A Vintage To Die For (Violet Vineyard Murder Mysteries Book 2)
Page 36
“Do you know what they used?”
“Not yet,” Ben said, leaning back and loosening his tie. My kitchen chair creaked a warning. “Notice anyone hanging around that shouldn’t be? Not just strangers, maybe somebody coming to see Laurel when Kevin isn’t around, or vice versa?”
“No,” I answered. I put his cup under the spigot and opened the tap. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black’s fine.”
I set his cup on a coaster, filled mine and joined him at the table.
“How’s Jessica doing?” Ben asked, changing the subject.
“Jessica is fine. Her choice in men sucks.”
“She’s still seeing Stanley, I hear.”
I smiled bitterly. “I guess you read the report I filed last night.” Ben nodded. “He’s nothing but trouble,” I said.
“It’s a shame they won’t let us make their decisions for them,” Ben agreed with an ironic chuckle. “My youngest has decided he’s gay. Told me last week. I didn’t know what to say. He asked if I still loved him. Of course I do. But I don’t know how to deal with it, that’s for sure.”
“Love him, everything else he has to work out on his own.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, staring into his coffee. “I take a wait and see attitude about more and more things the older I get.”
Just then there was a tapping at the door. It opened before I had a chance to answer. It was the bristly haired young detective.
“I’m going to take a look around the cellar, Ben,” he said without looking at me.
“Okay. Find anything out there?”
“Murder weapon, maybe,” the detective replied tersely. “Rusted-up shovel under that willow tree. Blood on it. Looks fresh. Barnes is bagging it for the lab.” The willow he referred to was one with special memories for me. Winter Harlan had helped me plant it just weeks before her death. It sat twenty feet from the end of the row where Kevin had been found. It seemed both prophetic and depressing that the murder weapon should be found there.
“Keep me posted, Doug,” Ben said. The detective disappeared, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Doug Priest,” Ben said, nodding at the door. “Been on the force a couple of years. Got a degree in Criminal Science and everything. Barnes is his partner. You probably know him. He issued you a couple of speeding tickets when he was in uniform.” Ben grinned at me, and then continued straight-faced, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to go through the cellar, Claire. Can’t be helped.”
“You’re welcome to,” I replied without hesitation. I felt a shiver of fear. Tonight I would arm the burglar alarm, something I’d done only twice since I’d had it installed. But even with that, I knew I’d find it hard to go to sleep. I thought of the pistol I kept in the bedside drawer, but that didn’t drive the fear away. I was almost as appalled by the idea of shooting someone as I was by the idea of getting shot.
Ben stubbed out his cigarette, slurped another mouthful of coffee and stood.
“I better get back to the station,” He said, straightening his hopelessly wrinkled tie.
I walked with him to the door. He stopped on the patio and turned to me.
“It was nice seeing you, Claire. Despite the circumstances. We don’t see much of each other anymore.”
“You spend too much time working,” I answered, smiling. “You need to take a break now and again.”
“Look who’s talking,” he chuckled. “How often do you get off this hill?”
I shrugged. “Too much to do.”
“Ain’t that the truth? Well, see you, Claire.”
Ben walked away, shoulders slumped, head hanging, looking every bit his age. Before he made ten feet the female technician appeared at the head of the rows and trotted over yelling Ben’s name in a surprisingly deep voice. She was slightly built, but tall and wiry with brunette hair chopped off short and a serious face deeply lined, though she couldn’t have been too far out of her twenties. She was wearing a grungy white lab coat and cats-eye glasses with black frames.
Ben waited for her. I should have gone inside, but I couldn’t resist the urge to eavesdrop.
“What’s up, Midge?” he asked. “Taking up jogging?”
“Ha! I’d have to quit smoking and drinking, and that ain’t likely. Dougie wants me to vacuum the whole row. All we’ll get is dirt and leaves. I’d do it, if ten people hadn’t already walked through the scene, but we’d have hell trying to sort the mess out. I did a fifteen foot circle around the body.”
“Detective Priest doesn’t like to be called Dougie,” Ben said with a smirk.
“It’s better than what I call him behind his back. So, what should I do?” She glanced at me, gave me a wink, and looked back at her boss.
“You know better than me, Midge,” Ben said, “So do it. I’ll handle Doug.”
“Roger that,” Midge said, a wicked smile curling her lips. “See you at the station.”
“Get what you find sent to the labs today,” Ben yelled as she trotted away. He noticed me standing there.
“Midge Tidwell,” he said. “Our forensics specialist. A damn fine deputy too.”
“I thought forensic people were doctors?” I asked. “I’ve never heard of one that was a deputy. But that’s probably from watching too much TV.”
“We don’t have that kind of money. Wish we did. All deputies are given basic training in evidence gathering, but Midge has had more training than most. Got an eye for the details, and she doesn’t mind staying late.” He looked at his watch. “Well, gotta go.”
Ben climbed in his car and waved at me again. He backed out of the drive and I went back inside to finish my coffee, thinking about how much I had enjoyed seeing Ben, despite the circumstances. He was right, it was too bad that the old crowd didn’t get together unless we were burying someone.
End of Free Sample
Dead on the Vine is available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle format. Keep an eye out for the next installment of the Violet Vineyard Mysteries, ‘A Toast to Death,’ to be released in 2016.
Happy reading!
JM Harvey