The larger dog barked once, but neither of them made a move to obey. “Call your dogs,” I said to Louise, who stood at the edge of the pile. She obviously didn’t want to wade in manure and shavings.
She clapped and called. They both barked this time, but didn’t move.
I reached over to hook my hand in the collar of the nearest dog to start him moving. I was prepared to give way if he snapped at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he braced his full weight against me and yanked me off my feet. I landed on my stomach with my hand still hooked in his collar.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered, and scrambled back.
“He bit you?” Louise asked. “I can’t believe . . . ”
“Get their leashes and shut them in a stall,” I said as I stood up. “Call Amos Royden. Tell him the dogs just found Jacob Yoder.”
Chapter 30
Tuesday
Geoff
This time Geoff had a real crime scene to investigate, although the sheriff tried to take the case from him. “It’s not in Mossy Creek proper,” he said. “So it’s my jurisdiction and not Royden’s.” He stared down at Yoder’s body, still face down where Merry Abbott had discovered him. The back of his head was a pulpy mess. Flies were already landing in droves.
“We settled this already over Lackland. Same place, different body,” Geoff answered. “This isn’t the primary crime scene. He wasn’t killed where he fell. Not enough blood.”
“You don’t think the killer asked him politely to step into the center of the manure pile so he could beat his head in?”
Geoff ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll be grateful for your assistance, Sheriff. I don’t have any techies up here.”
“Techies? Who the hell has techies? I need to process evidence, I send it down to you folks.”
Geoff spread his hands. “See? Works out fine. I’m just cutting out the middle man. I’ll take pictures and collect evidence, then send it down to my office in Atlanta.”
“Had to be that Abbott woman did it,” the sheriff grumped. “Didn’t have none of this mess ‘til she showed up. Nice peaceful county. Don’t know what Governor Bigelow’s gonna say about this. Ought to arrest her right this minute.”
He should have known Sheriff Campbell would go for the easiest solution. “We don’t even know precisely how or when the man was killed. I’d hold off on arresting anyone.”
“Sure as shootin’ didn’t dig hisself into the manure pile and suffocate.”
Geoff had to keep his temper, but it wasn’t easy. Sheriff Campbell might be a good enough lawman to keep the governor’s county quiet, but this was beyond him. “Probably flattish and broad-surfaced with a sharp edge.”
“Like a manure shovel?” asked a young woman deputy. Both men turned to look at the object in her gloved hands. “I found it in the wash rack. Looks like it’s been scrubbed recently.”
“See? I told you that woman done it,” the sheriff said.
“Sheriff, the man weighed one-seventy or one-eighty. The killer had to move the body, dig a hole big enough to shove him into, and cover the whole thing up.”
“Woman’s big and strong.” He sounded sulky.
“Why would she kill him?”
“Easy. He saw her kill her father and tried to blackmail her.”
“Sheriff,” said another deputy. “Medical examiner’s office called. Can we bring them the body now?”
“Heck, why not? Dig it out and carry it to town.” The sheriff ran his hand over his bald head and turned to Geoff. “I’m leaving this in your hands. You better make an arrest soon or I’m calling the governor to personally to kick your butt off this case and tell Amos Royden to git the hell out of my territory.” He stomped to his squad car.
Geoff found the three women sitting in the stable on fresh bales of hay brought in from the storage shed behind the stable. The dogs lay asleep at Louise’s feet, but the moment Geoff walked arrived, they stared at him in silent reproach. He had taken their toy away from them. He loved dogs, but occasionally their priorities disturbed him.
“When can I leave?” Louise asked. “I have to take them to Blackshear’s to have them scrubbed and their teeth cleaned. Then I need the inside of my van detailed before I take them home.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about any of this.”
“Neither does anyone else, Ms Sawyer.” He scratched the ears of the nearest dog. “However, in a sense they’re heroes. We might not have found Mr. Yoder’s body for quite a while buried under that manure pile. The dogs could pick up the scent. I doubt humans could.”
“How long has he been there?” Merry asked. He didn’t think she’d been this shaken over her father’s death, but then she hadn’t been working around a corpse for a couple of days without realizing it. “I can’t believe I actually dumped fresh manure on top . . . I may be sick.” She clapped one hand over her mouth and the other across her stomach.
“Put your head between your knees,” he said. “As to how long he’s been dead, we won’t know for certain until the medical examiner tells us. My guess is Sunday evening after you and Peggy left, although it could have happened early Monday morning before you arrived.”
“So he didn’t run away,” Peggy said. “In a weird way, that’s a comfort.”
“Not to him,” Merry whispered. “Sheriff wanted to arrest me, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“No evidence and a good alibi. You’d hardly have let those dogs roam loose if you knew you had a dead body around.”
“I might not have thought they could smell it.” She gave a convulsive shudder.
“You ever fox hunt?” he asked.
She frowned up at him. “Of course.”
“Then you know how well dogs can smell.” He said to Louise, “Mrs. Sawyer, you and your dogs can go. Call Sandi and make an appointment to come by the station tomorrow to give Mutt your statement.”
“Shouldn’t I stay with them?” she asked and gestured toward Peggy and Merry.
“We’ll be fine,” Peggy said. “Go on, Louise.”
“I’m so sorry,” Merry said.
“It’s not your fault. I still want to drive after this is over with.”
The dogs fell in behind her as she left the stable for her van. Geoff called, “Please don’t talk to anyone about this, Mrs. Sawyer.”
“I intend to tell my husband, but no one else. I promise.”
He watched her out of sight down the driveway. She drove very slowly as though still shaky.
“I may have to buy you a couple of cheap chairs from Wal-Mart in self defense,” Geoff said. He moved a bale of hay into the aisle and sat down across from the two women.
Before he spoke, the pretty young deputy stuck her head in the stable door. “Agent Wheeler, I think you maybe need to see this.”
“Stay,” he said to the two women, and followed her outside and around to the parking area at the front door of the barn.
“This gravel doesn’t take tire tracks,” she said, “but sometime since it rained on Friday a vehicle drove over the edge and onto the grass for a couple of feet.”
He squatted to look at the tracks. “Tires look worn,” he said. “Mrs. Sawyer’s tires are nearly new.”
“Tread doesn’t match either Mrs. Abbott’s or Mrs. Caldwell’s vehicle, or the big diesel truck.”
“Check Yoder’s truck over by his trailer. He may have driven up here.”
“Already did, sir,” she said and flashed him a broad smile. His treads are worn, but they’re a different pattern.”
If she was looking to make points, she was doing an excellent job.
“Take a cast, then get on the net and see if you can identify make, model and year.”
“Yes sir. Right away, sir.”
“Mrs. Abbott has taught some lessons since Friday afternoon. I’ll get a list of her students. We’ll have to check their cars as well.”
“Of course, sir.” She looked crestfallen. She was undoubte
dly hoping he’d tell her that she’d identified the killer’s vehicle and caught him red-handed. Police work was not that easy. She’d learn soon enough that it was generally a matter of checking and rechecking and half the time finding nothing usable.
He found the two women sitting where he’d left them. They had leaned their heads against the stall behind them with their eyes closed. For the first time, Peggy looked her age, and there were dark circles under Merry’s eyes.
He sat. “Either of you kill him? You could have done it together and alibied each other.”
Both women sat up. “Why would you ask a dumb question like that?” Merry snapped. “No, we did not kill him. I needed him.”
“Even if you found out he killed your father?”
“If I’d found that out, I’d have called you and told you to haul his sorry butt out of here. If he did, it was voluntary manslaughter, not first-degree murder. He got mad and snapped. There can’t have been any long range planning involved.”
“At his age and with his record, that wouldn’t have made much difference. Any sentence would have been a life sentence.”
“When he disappeared, I felt certain he’d done it,” Peggy said. “But now . . . ”
He waited.
“He was sneaky and not too smart. He knew something or found out something, tried to make a buck out of it, and whoever he tried killed him.”
“You agree?” he asked Merry.
“What could he have known? If he didn’t kill my father, he wasn’t here when it happened.”
“You didn’t go into his trailer at all?”
“I stood in the door and watched you and Amos. That’s the closest I ever came to going inside.”
“We already have your prints. Yours too, Mrs. Caldwell. We’ll have to check against the ones we find in the trailer.”
“Check away,” Peggy said. “You think somebody killed him in his trailer and dragged him all the way over here to bury him?”
He hesitated. He wasn’t in the habit of offering information, but this time he thought he might be justified. “We’re pretty certain his trailer was searched.”
“His door was locked when I tried it.”
“So was your apartment. The killer borrows keys. We found Jacob’s wiped clean in the ignition of his truck.”
“What were they looking for?” Peggy asked.
“If it was the same person who turned over our stuff, they were looking for information.” Merry leaned back and closed her eyes. “I feel like that guy in Lil’ Abner that has a black cloud over his head. Everything I touch turns to crap.”
“Go home,” Geoff said. “Take a hot bath, have a drink, eat something, go to bed.”
She laughed. “Thank you for the advice, Mother Wheeler, but I still have horses to feed this evening.”
“Then do it now and leave. We’ll be here a good bit longer.”
“Come on, Merry, I’ll help,” Peggy said and pulled herself to her feet.
Geoff offered Merry a hand. She took it and let him pull her up. He felt for a moment as though she’d lean against his chest and let him wrap his arms around her. At the last second, however, she stepped back, squared her shoulders and walked out of the stable.
Peggy glared at him. “You two need to get your act together.”
He gave her a ‘whatever do you mean’ raised eyebrow.
She sniffed and went after Merry.
Was it that obvious that he was attracted to Merry? He was fairly certain she was attracted to him as well. Having to arrest her for murder wouldn’t be the best next step in building a relationship. He’d better clear her and find the real killer before he was forced to do just that.
He wound up calling the inn from his car and ordering a couple of steak sandwiches, then eating them in his room in front of the television set with the sound off. The local eleven o’clock news carried a short story on the discovery of a body in Bigelow County, but that was all. Tomorrow’s stories would be more extensive. Merry would probably be met with half a dozen news vans when she went out to feed the horses in the morning. Hiram’s death had been put down to accident and hadn’t roused the newshounds. This one would. He decided to be there first.
She would find soon enough that the big wheelbarrow she used to carry fresh manure from stable to manure pile was missing. It was on its way to the crime lab in Atlanta. When she found it had been used to transport Jacob’s body from the murder site in front of the barn around back to the dump site, he didn’t think she’d want it back. It had been hosed out, but there were still traces of blood in the crevices around the edge. DNA would confirm what he knew in his gut. The blood belonged to Jacob.
Once the medical examiner confirmed what he suspected, that Yoder had been killed and buried Sunday evening, he’d have to start checking alibis all over again. He didn’t much care whether Tom Darnell or Ken Whitehead was guilty. Had to be one or the other.
So long as Merry was safe. Peggy too, of course. They alibied one another from two in the afternoon Sunday until Monday morning. Merry might have had barely enough time to kill Jacob when she went out to the barn Monday morning, but not enough to bury him and clean up her mess before Peggy arrived. He could think of no way they could be in this together. They’d known one another a week. Hardly time to make an alliance to commit murder.
Sheriff Campbell might believe Merry was Superwoman. Geoff didn’t. He hoped she’d turned off the ringer on her cell and landline phones tonight. Reporters were capable of calling at two in the morning. He’d already told the front desk at the Hamilton Inn not to put calls through to him. Merry and Amos both had his cell phone number. Anyone else could wait until morning.
He woke at one a.m., still dressed with a crick in his neck and the television flickering. He brushed his teeth, stripped, slid under the covers and slept again instantly.
His last thought before sleep took hold was that tomorrow would be a bitch anyway you looked at it.
Chapter 31
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
Merry
I’m used to handling local reporters who cover the horse shows I manage, but they generally want human-interest stuff, not crime interviews from one of the suspects. I had to shoo two TV trucks and three reporters’ cars out of my way so I could drive up the hill to the farm. They had enough sense not to follow me onto my property. It would be up to the cops to move them out of the public road. Geoff could speak to them if he wanted to, but Peggy and I wouldn’t even give them a ‘no comment.’ With luck they’d give up by lunchtime and move over to bug the sheriff and Amos Royden.
When I talked to her at Hiram’s viewing, I hadn’t given Katie Bell from the Mossy Creek Gazette anything but salient facts about Hiram’s life that she could have gotten off Google, and I wasn’t about to add anything now.
Peggy had cancelled the two driving lessons scheduled for the afternoon. Ida called to ask if we were still planning to drive in Mossy Creek on Sunday afternoon.
“Up to you,” I told Peggy.
She nodded and said into the phone, “We’ll be there.” After she hung up, she asked, “This Fitzgibbons guy is definitely coming to help me drive, right?”
“To the best of my knowledge. It’s obvious we can’t drive Heinzie to the road again until the reporters leave, so we’ll work him to the vis-à-vis in the arena. I’ll shut Don Qui in his stall and let him yell his head off.”
Over his objections, I fastened his door securely. No way he could open it. He brayed and kicked while we harnessed Heinzie, but when I followed Peggy out to the arena, he was still confined to his stall.
Heinzie didn’t seem to miss him much, which was good. That meant we could load up Heinzie and the vis-à-vis, leave Don Qui locked securely in his stall, and do our Easter duty in Mossy Creek.
Don Qui kept up a bray that would have gone an ocean lighthouse one better. After twenty minutes, however, he went silent.
“Finally,” I said. “He must be worn out.”
&
nbsp; She stopped Heinzie in the middle of the arena beside me and pointed toward the in-gate with her whip. “I don’t think so.” And in he trotted.
“No way!” I ran into the stable and stopped at his stall. The latch was in the upright position instead of pointing down, and the sliding door was open enough for his fat little body to squeeze through. I had closed and latched it tight, but he was out, and I still had no idea how he’d done it.
He was furious, of course. He tried to stomp my other foot. This time I narrowly avoided having a matching semi-circular bruise on the instep of my right foot to match my left.
When I led Heinzie back to the pasture, Don Qui trotted beside him, then wheeled and kicked the gate again.
I prayed we wouldn’t have reporters and TV trucks rolling down the streets of Mossy Creek on Sunday if we were forced to take Don Qui along. He’d probably bite or kick or generally misbehave and be caught on camera and flashed over the news.
We ate sandwiches sitting on the hay bales. “Geoff has a point,” I said as I tried to find a position that didn’t poke me with hay. “We need chairs even if we have to make do with canvas jobs until the estate’s settled.”
We had decided to lacquer the vis-à-vis and put the newly upholstered seats back in while the weather stayed warm and dry, so we hauled it out to the far corner of the parking area onto a big tarpaulin and sprayed it black. We finished tacking and stapling the new seat covers and screwed them back in as well.
“The old girl doesn’t look bad at all,” Peggy said, as we cleaned up our mess and rolled the carriage back into the barn. “The red upholstery and the black lacquer look spiffy.”
“Still got a lot of work to do before it goes to its new owner, whoever that might be,” I said. “You know, if we’re going to have a black and red carriage and a black horse, we need to fancy Heinzie up some. I could braid his mane in a French braid with red yarn, and we could put red rosettes on his hames.”
Hiram had taught Peggy about harness, so she didn’t ask me to define hames. Farmers know what they are, but most non-driving people don’t.
TheCart Before the Corpse Page 24
