The driver eased to a stop, reached into the front basket, picked up a rifle, and fired. Six shots. All pinged loudly as they smacked into the metal stop sign and punched holes in the red octagon. With a satisfied grin, the driver placed the rifle back into the basket and grabbed the handlebar. He glanced over, still smiling, and waved to Tony, who sat on the passenger seat with the window down, before driving into the intersection.
Sid Lundy, Orvan's cousin, had been described as having a turnip for a brain. Tony thought it seemed wrong to malign an innocent and comparatively intelligent vegetable.
Wade made a sharp turn onto the dirt road. He flipped the light bar on and followed the cart, even as he talked to dispatch. “I'm not making this up, Rex. It's Sid Lundy. He actually waved at the sheriff right after he shot the sign.” Wade honked his horn and grinned. The driver flinched but didn't pull over.
Tony reached for the vehicle's microphone. “Sid Lundy, this is Sheriff Abernathy. Stop the cart.”
The cart stopped in the center of the road. Tony was gratified, if a little surprised, when the driver followed his instructions.
Wade swerved to avoid hitting the cart as he drove past it and stopped, his lights flashing a warning. “You think he'll shoot at us?”
“I doubt it, but I'm not dumb enough to risk it.” Sid was Orvan's equal in cantankerous nature, but not as bright. Tony used the microphone again. “Sid, lay the rifle on the ground and put your hands up.”
There was a long pause while the cart thief sat motionless as if considering his options.
Wade took the microphone. “Sid Lundy, this is Wade Claybough, I'm getting my rifle and I'll fire a round right up the barrel of that twenty-two of yours if you don't place it very gently on the ground. You know me and you know my rifle's not a twenty-two. Do it now.”
Glancing around, as if just noticing he was not alone, Sid hurried to follow Wade's instructions.
Tony grinned. “Your gun's bigger than his.”
Wade parked on the shoulder of the road and they both climbed out, walking toward man and machine.
“It's dead.” Tears welled in the old man's eyes. He patted the cart's handlebars.
“That's not your worst problem.” Tony felt more acid drip into his heartburn. “Stealing this cart is a felony, and using a rifle to destroy those road signs is going to create another very expensive problem for you. What are you using for brains?” Knowing the question was purely rhetorical didn't stop him from asking.
The man's lower lip quivered just like Jamie's had when he was two and anyone told him no. His head moved slowly from side to side. “It were fun.”
“Sheriff, I'm not sure how much help this is going to be for you.” The pathologist doing the autopsy on Harrison Ragsdale sounded sympathetic even through the tiny cell phone.
Tony hated any phone call beginning with such encouraging words. “Why don't you just lay it out for me anyway? Why is our Mr. Ragsdale deceased?”
“Walnuts.” One word followed by silence.
For a moment Tony thought his hearing wasn't what it used to be. “Walnuts?”
“Yep. Your Mr. Ragsdale had a serious allergic reaction to something he ate. In this case, he had a fierce, and most likely, escalating, allergy to walnuts. All tree nuts were bad for him, but walnuts were the worst. He should have been carrying injectable medicine to combat the allergic reaction until medical personnel could get to him.”
“I didn't see anything like that, Doctor. We shipped him to you with everything still on him.” Tony searched his notebook for the inventory list. “Let's see, there was the expected watch, billfold, badge, loose change, car keys, house keys, and one implement shaped a bit like a screwdriver or a special key, a pocket knife. A revolver.” Tony flipped through more pages. “I don't see anything resembling medicine.”
“Then he's a stupid corpse.” The doctor sounded disgusted. “I swear, if you're allergic to a common food ingredient and you stuff your face at a festival, I'm tempted to call it suicide.” He cleared his throat. “I'm not going to sign any papers until you have a chance to do a little legwork and find out if there's a reason besides poor brains that he was not prepared for an allergic reaction.”
Tony groaned. “So, if someone stole it from him?”
“Yep. I might have to call it deliberate homicide.”
“And if he lost it?”
“Maybe not homicide.” The doctor cleared his throat. “You also might want to take a little survey of your food vendors and see how many of them were serving walnuts.”
“I'm sure I ate some cookies with walnuts.” Tony closed his eyes; there had been quite a few food vendors when they were all listed together—ramp recipe contest samples, the hamburger and barbeque stands, popcorn, snacks, desserts, a whole booth of desserts. “There was food everywhere. People cooking it, eating it, walking with it, spilling it.”
“Don't overlook the smaller bits,” the pathologist said. “Food morsels, samples, crumbs on everything including hands and lips. Maybe some woman kissed him right after she ate walnuts.”
Tony thought maybe if he took all the files out of his bottom desk drawer, he might be able to slam his head in it and have it close and shut out the doctor's words. “It's hopeless.”
“Well, I'm sure you'll do your best.” The doctor disconnected the call.
Tony thought the doctor's pious voice sounded like his mom had when he was a boy and had produced a disappointing report card. It had spurred him to work harder back then. He wondered if the doctor's marked lack of enthusiasm would have the same effect. He pushed his intercom button. “Ruth Ann, I need your help.” Maybe she could come shoot him. He really didn't approve of suicide.
Ruth Ann was reasonably sympathetic. She waved her freshly painted fingernails under his nose. “The color is citron.”
Tony studied it. He might have renamed it something more like “bile.” The dog had eaten something once that had reappeared wrapped in stomach juices. It was the same color. However, he swallowed his impulse to tell her about it, because he was going to try and enlist Ruth Ann's assistance with their new research project.
“You don't look too good.” Ruth Ann's comment was masterful. “Something you ate?”
“Funny you should bring up food.” Tony tried a smile. It felt a little forced, awkward.
“Something wrong with your teeth?” Ruth Ann smirked. “Maybe you should go see Tiberius. Take your mom along and let her salivate over Doctor Looks-so-good.”
“Actually, I'd like you to do a little survey for me.” Tony quit smiling. “Please contact each food vendor from the Ramp Festival and find out every ingredient of every food served, I especially want to know who used walnuts in any foods served in their booths, and which foods they were in and in what quantity. Mom or Martha should at least know who was selling food.”
Obviously intrigued, Ruth Ann headed back to her desk.
“I meant to ask you about this before.” Theo's voice came through Tony's cell phone. “I overheard a conversation, and someone mentioned Ragsdale's wife, and I didn't know he was ever married.”
Shocked, he'd forgotten Ragsdale's lawyer's call because of the fire, Tony sat up straight. “That's right. She lives in Silersville.” He began searching the top stack of papers, looking for the note he'd written himself. He found it.
“I don't know her name,” Theo continued. “And it didn't seem like a good plan to say I was eavesdropping and would like to know who would marry Ragsdale and why it was such a secret.”
Theo sounded as confused as he felt. “I know her name, and I know who to ask for preliminary information. I'll fill you in later.” He kissed the telephone. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
He charged from his office and headed to the museum. Sure enough, his mother was in the office, sorting papers. She glanced up and gave him a dirty look when he walked in. Not exactly the welcome he might have predicted. “What's wrong, Mom?”
Jane stared at him, still not smiling. �
�I'm sure you don't mean to create a scene every time you come out here.”
“What do you mean by a scene?” Tony found his mother's snarky attitude absolutely unfair.
“I'm sure it's nothing intentional, which doesn't mean it's not your fault.” She sighed, a long melodramatic exhalation. “It seems as though trouble follows you out here. As I recall, Martha and I had barely bought the land when you started this unsavory habit.”
“Unsavory habit?” Tony scowled. “You make it sound like I'm the one killing off people who come onto your property. Maybe you're the one responsible.” His mother had always had the gift of pushing his buttons. He almost lost sight of his reason for the visit when she frowned and squinted her eyes at him. Forestalling her next comment, he decided to test her memory. “You claim to know everyone in the county, so who married Harrison Ragsdale?”
Her mouth opened and closed without a sound. She blinked. “Why, Jessica Baxter, of course. Everyone knows it. She married him when she was still in school. High school. She was several years ahead of you.”
“Thank you.” Tony turned and left before his mom could get back onto the subject clearly gnawing on her nerves. Him.
Driving back to town, he called Wade. “Find out where Jessica Baxter is and let me know. I'll meet you there.”
Moments later, Wade contacted him with the address. As Tony drove, he considered the little information he knew about Ragsdale's will and estate. So far, he'd learned Jessica stood to inherit part of a house including the furnishings, a sizeable savings account, and two rental houses. What he didn't know was why she was still legally married to a man she no longer lived with and it was not a recent separation. A man whom Tony had considered single his whole life.
Jessica Baxter came out of the house and greeted Wade and Tony. Tony recognized her by sight, if not name. She attended their church and shopped in the same stores. It occurred to him from time to time that he knew lots of residents by name and reputation. The ones, like Jessica, he didn't know were the ones not spending time in his jail on a regular basis. Just as he was thinking he might want to meet more law-abiding citizens, she said, “I expected you to come by.”
Eyebrows high, Tony covered his ignorance with a mumbled series of words about not realizing she and Ragsdale were still married.
“Yes. Come inside.” Jessica turned and went back into the house.
He and Wade followed. Once inside her house, he and Wade both retrieved their notebooks and sat. At Jessica's offer of coffee, they nodded and relaxed. Tony thought the interior of the house was well kept, although he personally didn't much care for the blond wood against the pine paneling of walls. They didn't have long to wait before she returned carrying a tray.
“I'm sure you're here because of Harrison.” She handed Tony a heavy mug of coffee.
He nodded. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“I'm not sure.” Jessica settled onto the sofa opposite him. “As long as you mean spending any time with him, it's been years. Of course, in a town this size, I saw him often.”
“You really are still married?” Tony said.
“Oh, yes. For now.” Jessica immediately realized her statement sounded peculiar. “That's wrong. Let me explain. Thirty years ago, he was a good-looking guy. I was sixteen and thought he hung the moon, as they say. He was eighteen. I think you can connect the dots.” She stared at the floor. “I ended up pregnant, married, miscarried, and separated all within a year.”
“Why not have the marriage annulled or get a divorce?” Wade asked.
“It didn't matter to either of us. He wasn't planning to marry and I wasn't either. Until now.” Jessica blushed and extended her left hand. A miniscule diamond twinkled on her third finger.
“You don't use his name,” Tony stated. “Did you ever?”
“No. We never really thought of ourselves as husband and wife, and I'd guess only a few residents would remember our quickie wedding.” She studied Tony. “How did you find out?”
“A resident remembered.” He wrote himself a note. He didn't mention Ragsdale's attorney knew her name as well. “So you said you didn't spend time with him. Did you talk on the telephone, e-mail, snail mail?”
“I called to tell him I would like to divorce so I could remarry, and that I'd like a dowry, as it were. After all, if he's my husband, what's his is mine, right?”
“Who's the lucky man?” Tony didn't explore the terms of her probable inheritance.
“Vic Anderson.”
When she smiled, Jessica's face became radiant. If she looked this good at nearly fifty, Tony imagined she must have been stunning at sixteen. He knew she was about ten years older than he was. He recognized the name of her fiancé, a local exterminator, a man with access to and experience with certain types of poison. “And Ragsdale?”
“He said no way. Can you believe it? He said divorce was an abomination and a sin. The sanctimonious pain in the neck.” Jessica's voice rose and her face reddened. “Is divorce worse than knocking up a sixteen-year-old girl?”
Tony cut her off before she exploded or wandered too far from the subject. “When was this conversation?”
“Last week.” Jessica met his eyes. “I did not do whatever you're thinking. What's wrong with my wanting Vic and a bit of cash? I've seen Harrison's will. It all comes to me unless I remarry.”
Tony thought she'd be disappointed by the recent changes in the will. “Only part will come to you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Only that he had a new will.” Tony didn't want to discuss it further. “Tell me about his allergies.”
“Allergies?” Jessica looked at the ceiling. “Well, he wasn't allergic to dogs, but he acted like it just so people would keep them away. I think he was afraid of them, not allergic.”
“Anything else?” Tony hoped he looked like these were his standard questions.
Jessica's big brown eyes stared into his. “You don't mean the nut thing, do you?” The corners of her lips turned down. “He acted like he was being murdered if you sprinkled nuts on his ice cream sundae.”
“You didn't believe him when he said he had allergies?”
Before Jessica could answer, the front door swung open and a stocky man with bright orange hair stepped inside. “Everything all right?”
“Come in, Vic.” Tony recognized the exterminator as a semiregular patron of the Okay Bar and Bait Shop. “Why don't you have a seat? I've got a few questions for you too.”
Orange hair sat. His gaze bounced back and forth between Tony and Jessica.
Tony said, “Did you tell anyone how Ragsdale behaved when nuts were involved?”
“Yes.” Jessica smiled and extended a hand to the orangehaired man, and he rose to kiss it. “I told my fiancé, Vic, only a few days ago.”
Tony studied the couple. Given the minimum net worth of Ragsdale's estate in property and cash, there were now two people in the room with motive, especially if they didn't know about the new will. Gaining the freedom to marry, plus cash and property, tipped the scale toward Jessica. But, if her boyfriend knew about the relationship, he might dream of a wedding and money as a package deal. Who wanted it more, and did Vic know about the money prior to their courtship?
Tony watched Vic. He did remember seeing the orange hair at the festival. It was about the same improbable shade as Blossom's dye job. He also remembered how his attention had been caught by the man's furtive expression. Maybe he just had a sneaky face. But for what cause? Cheating on his girlfriend? Stealing cookies from the bake sale? Or poisoning Harrison Ragsdale?
If there was one thing he'd learned in law enforcement—first in Chicago and now as sheriff of the smallest county in Tennessee—it was to trust your gut. If Vic wasn't involved in Ragsdale's death, he was thrilled to profit from it. What Tony didn't want to do was ask more questions without knowing a few more of the answers first. And he positively did not want these two copying the answers from each other.
“I
think this is all we need for now.” Standing abruptly, he signaled for Wade to follow him. His deputy managed to remain silent until they reached the street and Tony asked, “What do you think?”
“I've encountered Vic a few times.” Wade pushed his sunglasses down from his head to cover his eyes. “He has motive and it makes a great suspect, but dirt's smarter. I'm not sure he's got the brains to pull it off.”
Tony couldn't dispute it. “Jessica's got brains. I'd love to know when and how their relationship began.”
“If we can find a video of either of them giving food to Ragsdale,” said Wade, “it might not matter how they met. Love, money, and murder create a classic triangle.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“What do you mean, Tony?” His aunt narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course people were using video cameras, scads of them. There's no way to give you all their names.”
Tony narrowed his eyes right back at her. Why was his aunt being so difficult? “Don't pretend you don't know what I'm asking. Did you have someone make an official video or not? It's not a crime you know.”
She cleared her throat and looked away. “It might be.”
“Why?”
“Well, one of the groups did say they didn't want anyone recording them. Something about not wanting the new song broadcast on the Internet.”
“Have you done that?” Tony knew the answer. Neither his aunt nor his mother was really computer savvy enough to upload a video.
“Well, no, of course not. And we don't intend to.” Martha did meet his eyes then. “It's just for us to enjoy.”
“Excellent. Then you can give your unofficial video to me.” Tony thought examining the videos might take weeks. All those hours of recording would need minute examining to discover someone slipping a little something extra into Ragsdale's food.
It wasn't just this video he thought they might have to study. Lots of people were using cameras and fancy telephones to record portions of the afternoon.
Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable Page 18
