Altered to Death

by Christina Freeburn

  Wyatt cringed. “If he needs me, and there’s no equipment sound, it means my repair on the excavator didn’t hold. Wait here. He’s not going to be in a good mood. If he spots you, it’ll tick him off even more.”

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from mentioning the fact that Wayne had probably already spotted a car in the parking lot. He hurried down the ladder.

  While Wyatt talked with his brother, I returned to the trunk to see if there was anything showing which daughter owned the hope chest.

  “Faith, we need you down here,” Wyatt called up to me. “It’s important.”

  My heart rate skittered around for a moment. I couldn’t tell from Wyatt’s voice if this was a good “we need you,” or Wyatt wanted to share the “come to Jesus” lecture Wayne was unleashing.

  Taking my time, I lowered the lid and locked the trunk so nothing fell out when Wyatt carried it down for me. I was anxious to get it back to Scrap This and go through everything. I knew we’d find a lot of answers about the Everton family, and hopefully why they left Eden, in the hope chest of one of their daughters. There was also a possibility it was Mrs. Everton’s hope chest.

  “Either come down, or we’ll lock you up there,” Wayne said. “We have to get back to the digging site, but I have to secure the house first.”

  “I was just closing the hope chest. It has important historical information in it,” I said. Wayne sure was testy.

  “What’s in it?” Wayne’s baseball cap appeared before his face poked up through the opening.

  “Pictures. Documents of some sort.”

  “I’ll have Wyatt bring it down for you. If there’s anything else you think will be good for the historical society to have put it here.” Wayne patted the floor near the entrance/exit of the attic. “I don’t think anyone will be allowed back in the house for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I just dug up a body.”

  Four

  Wayne headed for an excavator parked in front of a gaping hole. The driver remained in the vehicle, hands on the controls, while another worker stood near the hole, focusing his cell phone on what rested at the bottom.

  “Need you guys to wait out front for the police, and stop anyone else from coming down here,” Wayne said.

  I stood at the edge of the hole and stared down at the not quite white, but not quite beige, colored objects in the ten-foot-deep hole, avoiding the skull that hung from one of the excavator’s teeth. Yep, those were bones. And from the brief look I had at the skull, human. This wasn’t good. Had Wayne accidentally dug up an Everton family cemetery plot the city hadn’t been aware of...or was it something more sinister?

  I swallowed hard. “Did you find any more bodies?”

  “So far, only this one.” Wayne tilted his ball cap. “I have the rest of my crew waiting on the front porch of the house until the police get here. I cancelled the delivery of the new pipes. I figured we should hold off on that until we get word from the city and the police department.”

  I lifted my head like a dog searching for a treat, listening for the strains of sirens. Nothing. Was something else going on in Eden that was delaying the police? My stomach tightened. I hoped not. “You might have stumbled on a family plot. Did Bobbi-Annie say when the police would arrive?”

  Bobbi-Annie was Eden’s first shift dispatcher, and Wayne and Wyatt’s long-suffering cousin. The town believed Bobbi-Annie decided to be a dispatcher so she’d be the first to know what her cousins were up to and give their mom a warning. Sometimes Gussie would beat the police to the station before an officer arrived with her sons.

  Wayne turned scarlet, lowering his head until his chin touched his collar bone. “I need you to call her.”

  “Did you forget your phone?” It seemed unlikely for a business man, especially one whose businesses involved time-sensitive customer service occupations like bail bonding and plumbing.

  “No. Bobbi-Annie isn’t taking my call seriously,” Wayne said. “She thinks I’m messing with her.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Bobbi-Annie’s fortieth birthday was two days ago, and Wyatt and I read an idea about gifting someone with something that was the exact number of their birthday.”

  What had the brothers done to their cousin?

  “We wanted to make her day fun, so we thought forty calls of weird crimes would be fun,” Wayne said.

  “Bobbi-Annie isn’t finding it fun.” Wyatt looked into the hole.

  What were they thinking? Bobbi-Annie had a great sense of humor, but she wouldn’t find jokes that affected her job humorous. She got lot of crank, and inappropriate, calls from other residents and sure didn’t need any from her family. Once at a crop, Bobbi-Annie told us about some people calling and asking for phone numbers of other residents, requests for police to make a business accept a return, and driving children to school or picking up children if a parent couldn’t make it to the school on time. On occasion, they accommodated the school ones and explained to the parents it was much better to join a car pool if they didn’t want to send their kids on the bus.

  “No, except for the fact she gets to send Officer Mitchell out on some of our made-up disturbances. I don’t think he’s finding it amusing either,” Wayne said.

  No, I doubted he would. Officer Mitchell was a no nonsense, by-the-book, smiles reserved for babies and old ladies type of guy. And he took the law seriously. Very seriously. It wasn’t something to trifle with or use to annoy your cousin. I’m surprised Gussie hadn’t grounded her grown sons. If there was one thing Gussie didn’t tolerate, besides her sons being disrespectful to women, it was disrespecting your family, and Wayne and Wyatt were venturing into that territory with this prank.

  “Fine. But you owe me one.” I took my cell from my pocket and called 911.

  “What is your emergency?” Bobbi-Annie’s sweet and calming voice came over the line.

  “We found some human remains at the Everton mansion.”

  “Where?” There was a tightness in her voice.

  “In the back, past the parking lot, where the pipes are being replaced.”

  “I can’t believe you let Wayne and Wyatt talk you into making this call, Faith,” Bobbi-Annie ranted. “Tell them the next time I get a call about some far-fetched scenario that’s taking place in Eden, I’m filing harassment charges against them.”

  “It’s true,” I rushed out. “There are some bones here. The skull is hanging from one of their trucks. Wayne’s not making it up.”

  “Right. Just like he didn’t make it up yesterday or the day before when he called me about the same exact thing.”

  I narrowed eyed Wayne. “He left out that little tidbit about his gift of forty calls.”

  He smiled sheepishly and stepped away from me.

  “I promise you, it is true. There are bones,” I said.

  “Probably deer. Or some skeleton they bought at a flea market or costume shop. We don’t have time for this.”

  “This isn’t a prank.” The bones looked real to me. Dread crept over me. If Georgia was right about Edward’s death, had he been killed because he uncovered evidence about a long-ago murder? Or was this a family grave site and Wayne stopped before he dug up any more Evertons?

  “Why don’t you take some pictures and send them to Detective Roget? He doesn’t have anything better to do. He can play this game with my cousins.” She hung up on me.

  I briefly thought of her suggestion, not discarding it outright but tweaking it a bit. A phone call was nicer than a photo of a human skull hanging from the teeth of an excavator. I pressed number three. Fortunately, Ted totally understood his ranking on my phone. My grandmothers would always be number one and number two on my speed dial. I rotated them every month. This month, Cheryl was number one and Hope number two.

  If Ted didn’t answer, I’d have no choi
ce but to send a photo. I’d get his attention then. Right before I hung up, Ted finally answered.

  “Is this important? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “That’s not what Bobbi-Annie said. She said you had nothing to do.”

  Ted groaned. “Why were you calling the dispatcher?”

  “I’m at the Everton mansion. Wayne dug up some bones.”

  “He did what?” Ted’s voice rang with suspicion.

  “He accidentally dug up some human remains when he was preparing for the new pipes to go in.” I don’t know why I added in the word accidentally. That was apparent. Unless Wayne put the bones there and then dug them up as part of a plot to get away with murder.

  “Right,” Ted stretched out the word. “Have you seen these bones or did Wayne or Wyatt ask you to call 911?”

  “I’m looking at them right now. I don’t know about the bones in the hole, they could be non-human, but the skull stuck on the excavator looks like a human skull.” Doubt crept into my head. Maybe it was a fake skull. It was something Wayne and Wyatt would do. Maybe I should tell them I was calling their mom to come down here. If it was an elaborate hoax, they’d fess up.

  “Maybe you should lower the bucket,” Wyatt said, approaching us. “Probably not a good idea having it hanging up in there in case others stop by to see the progress of the renovation.”

  “I don’t want it to fall off,” Wayne said. “It might break.”

  I shuddered. “Wyatt wants to disturb your crime scene by lowering the bucket.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, tell the dimwits not to move anything.”

  I tsked. “I can’t believe the unflattering language you’re using, Detective Roget.”

  “Trust me, it’s more complimentary than what I want to call them. Bobbi-Annie has been in a foul mood because of them, and we get the brunt of it.”

  “They’re not making this up. Want me to send you a picture? That’s what Bobbi-Annie advised.”

  Ted paused for a moment. I was shocked. He was contemplating the suggestion. “I’m hanging up to send—”

  He interrupted me. “No, that’s not necessary. Just tell Wayne to move another piece of equipment in front of the excavator to block the view of the skull. I’m sure there’s something on site that will work. I’m on my way.”

  I relayed Ted’s message to Wayne.

  He looked relieved someone was taking him seriously. “I’ll drive the front loader over and lift up that bucket. It’ll rise high enough so no one driving by will see it.”

  In a few minutes, the machine roared to life. I covered my ears. No wonder construction crews wore hearing protection. The machines were loud. The ground vibrated with the movement. I glanced up, the skull wobbled, still firmly hooked onto the teeth of the excavator. I hurried over to the edge of the parking lot while Wyatt directed his brother. It was best to be out of their way. Far, far out of their way.

  A hand fell on my shoulder. I made a sound between a startled squeak and a yelp and whirled around, colliding into the person behind me. Steve. My eyes widened. Why was the assistant prosecutor—and my ex-boyfriend—at the Everton mansion?

  Steve and I hadn’t said much to each other over the last year since I returned from a vacation engaged to Ted. I knew Steve had felt betrayed even though we’d been broken up for months. Ted and I had a tumultuous friendship which developed into a deep friendship and then love. Steve was hurt—and I gathered a little angry—that it was Ted and not him I grew to love.

  “What are you doing here?” Steve drilled his gaze into mine. A piece of paper was in his other hand.

  I slipped away from his touch, breaking the unnerving eye contact. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “Why must you always be so evasive?” Steve asked. “It was a simple question.”

  “I don’t have to answer to you.” I turned and walked away from Steve, drifting my gaze to the front loader. Good. Wayne had blocked the skull.

  “You’re trespassing on private property.”

  I rolled my eyes even though Steve didn’t benefit from seeing my opinion on his words as he was standing a few feet behind me.

  “You should not be here,” he said.

  I spun back to face him again, giving him the full effect of my glare. “The Eden Historical Society hired me to scrapbook the town’s history. I’m here, with Wyatt’s permission, to collect documents from the house for the project.”

  “They don’t have the right to grant you that. Anything you’ve taken from the house must be put back,” Steve said.

  “The Bufords were hired to renovate the mansion, so they have permission to be here and have items removed from the house.”

  “On the contrary, they can’t. They’re trespassers also.”

  “Says who?”

  “And if you don’t clear out, I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”

  “I—”

  “What’s going on?” Wyatt strolled over to us, cutting me off before I triple-dog-dared Steve. “Faith, I heard you squawking all the way from where Wayne’s at.”

  “Assistant Prosecutor Davis says we’re trespassing and have to leave.”

  “You’re wrong,” Steve said.

  I zeroed in on him. Heat licked my cheeks as my temper boiled. “I am not. That is what you said. We’re not allowed here.”

  “That’s true, just not the assistant prosecutor part. I quit.”

  I gaped at him. When? Why? Steve loved his job.

  Before I questioned Steve, Wyatt butted in. “We’re replacing the old pipes. We have a permit from the city. Everything’s legal. You even looked it over, Davis.”

  “Things have changed.”

  “Like what?” Wyatt glowered at Steve.

  I remained silent as I was still puzzling out the changes in Steve’s employment. How had I not heard about that development in Eden?

  “At the time, I was under the impression the city had the authority to authorize the renovations and now know otherwise,” Steve said.

  “You told me they did,” Wyatt said. “Wayne and I brought you all the documents the city had.”

  “A strong case was made for the city not owning the property,” Steve said.

  “Who does?” I worked on keeping my expression neutral. Had Edward called Steve before he died and told him about Georgia? Was that why Steve quit? He wasn’t the type of guy to bury the information, but he was the type of man who’d quit if he knew the town planned on ignoring it.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, attorney-client privilege.”

  “Since when does a county attorney have privilege clients?” Wyatt tipped back the brim of his baseball cap. His expression was a toss-up between confusion and anger.

  I wanted to scold Wyatt for not keeping up with the conversation, but it wasn’t him I was feeling snippy toward. It was Steve. I knew we weren’t dating anymore. I was engaged to Ted, but I thought we could be friends. I liked Steve. He was a good guy. He just wasn’t the man for me to spend my life with. Friends talked to each other about the major changes in their life. Steve had totally shut me out. “He said he no longer works for the county.”

  “You’re a defense attorney now? What kind of cases do you take?” Wyatt’s hopeful gaze led me to think he was adding Steve’s name to a Rolodex of lawyers he had in his brain for the next time he was in trouble with the law, which would be soon if he didn’t stop prank calling his cousin.

  “Whatever interests me.”

  That was vague. I wanted details. Steve had to know that about me. “Are you on your own? Or with a firm?” There was one firm in Eden and a couple of attorneys who had their own private practices.

  “I’m operating a satellite office of my father’s law firm here in Eden,” Steve said.

  I wasn’t sure if I was more shocked about the
fact Steve was working for his dad or that the Eden gossip train hadn’t heard about this development. Steve and his dad were barely on speaking terms, or at least that was true when we were dating. When Steve’s mom was dying, he found out his father had been having an affair during their entire marriage, and Steve had a half-brother. Suffice it to say, it didn’t go over well with Steve, especially when his father married his mistress while Steve was still grieving for his mother.

  My voice returned. “When did this happen?”

  “A while ago.”

  “Days? Weeks?”

  The expression on Steve’s face told me he would refuse to entertain any questions on the change of his employment.

  Fine, keep it a secret. Word would get out sooner or later about this development, and I’d hear the why from someone. Besides, it was information Ted would learn soon. A homicide detective worked closely with the prosecutor’s office and would hear the scuttlebutt. I just hoped he passed it on to me after a bit of wheedling and prying. Ted wasn’t one to give up information he believed I had no reason to know.

  “My client has a court order saying the house and all the contents belong to them,” Steve said. “I have a copy here to show you.”

  “I don’t care what it says,” Wyatt said. “We’re not leaving.”

  “Everyone needs to clear the area.” Wayne jumped out of the front loader. “I mean everyone. Wyatt, tell the crew to leave and take all of our supplies out of the house.”

  “Nothing leaves the house,” Steve said. “The rightful owner wants every item to remain there.”

  “Everything?” Wyatt asked.

  Wayne stood chest to chest with Steve. “Who’s saying it’s theirs?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. My client wants it kept confidential.”

  “And I’m not at liberty to leave our tools in the Everton mansion,” Wayne said. “The town will fight you, and I’m not going to have my business stalled because our work equipment is stuck in the house. Some of our tools are expensive. We can’t just up and replace them.”

  “There’s no reason for you to hurt the Bufords’ livelihood,” I said, hoping my sticking up for them was more helpful than not. Judging by the look Steve settled on me, I’d go with not. I pressed my lips together, trying to stop any other “helpful” words from blurting out.