Grasping the doorknob with his finger and thumb, he turned it. It was unlocked.
He shook his head.
Small towns. No one locked their front doors.
With his foot, he pushed the door gently open. Somewhere in the back of the house came the strains of a classical song. A grandfather clock in the front room clicked off the seconds.
Gage stepped inside. Two odors met his nose. Neither one comforting. Crime shows never told people how dead bodies, especially those that died suddenly, smelled.
“Oh God,” Bobby whispered behind him. “Is that what I think it is?”
“You going to be okay?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. She was holding her nose. He tried not to laugh.
“I think so. No one ever told me how bad the stench would be.”
“That’s something you never get used to.” He pulled his service revolver out of its holder and held it down at his side.
He ventured farther into the house, stopping them both in the living room’s doorway.
The furniture, Victorian-period, velvet-lined couches and chairs, lay in a meticulous rectangular grid. All accept the solid-oak coffee table—askew where Harley’s body lay next to it. The far wall was lined floor-to-ceiling with built-in oak bookshelves. Each shelf had the books lined in order, spine out. The wall opposite the window held precisely hung, framed maps. Antiques, if he had to guess.
“You stay here until I’m sure Harley’s the only one here. And don’t touch anything until I get back. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him and leaned against the doorjamb.
A quick tour of the house, both upstairs and down, showed nothing but the same well-cared-for antiques and vintage décor. Assured no one lurked in the shadows of the rooms, he holstered his weapon and headed back downstairs.
Bobby hadn’t moved from the living room door but had turned so she couldn’t see Harley’s lifeless body.
“The rest of the house is clear,” Gage said as he joined her. He grasped her by the shoulders, turning her to look in the room once more. “Don’t look at the body. Just tell me what you see.”
“Okay.” She paused, looking carefully around the room. “This was a very neat man. Everything has a place and everything is in its place.”
“Good. What else?”
“Our victim likes expensive things. Leather-bound books, antique furnishings. Probably expensive whiskey in those crystal decanters on that table beside the sofa.” She pointed to the maps. “He’s also a collector of rare maps I bet.”
Gage nodded at her. The woman had a good eye. “Very good. You’re a better observer than most rookie cops. Now work your way toward the body. What else do you see?”
“The corner of the Persian rug is flipped up by his feet. The coffee table is crooked. Papers are scattered on the floor and table.”
“Any conclusion?”
“It looks like he tripped and hit his head.”
“Very good. This could be nothing more than a tragic accident. That’s what the crime scene people will let us know. Or it could be something more, like a murder staged to look like an accident.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“To throw us off, make us not look any further into the case. They’d probably hope we’d give up quickly. This is a small town with limited funds and resources. In the past two days, since you literally fell into my arms, you’ve seen me call in the county fire department, the county arson investigator and now the county crime scene unit.” He held her gaze. “In fact, you might even say you brought all this crime with you.”
“I wouldn’t, but obviously you have no problem saying it.”
She gave him a scathing look. He felt her bristling beside him, the dead body completely forgotten. The woman might’ve been shaken by viewing her first dead body, but she certainly knew how to remain calm and focused.
“So what do we do now?”
Suddenly, something darted out of the kitchen and under the piano.
Bobby screamed, nearly jumping onto Gage’s back. “Oh my God!”
So much for calm and focused. Maybe she was more shaken than she let on.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pulled her against his side, his hand stroking her dark hair. “It’s just a cat. Look.” He pointed to where the long-haired gray Persian crouched beneath the baby grand piano.
She turned her head from his chest. “It scared me to death.”
“Your scream probably scared it, too.”
She smacked him lightly on the chest before pushing away. “I wasn’t expecting anything to move in here except us. How long do you think he…he’s been dead?”
Gage moved closer to the grandfather clock in the corner. “See this?”
“The clock?” she asked stepping up beside him.
“It’s a three-day clock.”
“What’s a three-day clock?”
He pointed to the chains with the weights attached. “You pull the weights down and that puts the pendulum in motion. It runs for three days. It’s still running now.”
“So, he’s been dead less than three days.”
“Probably less than forty-eight hours.”
“Why do you say forty-eight hours?”
“Here’s one of those bonuses of living in a small town. Harley’s a deacon over at the Baptist church. Never misses a Sunday or Wednesday. Since no one seemed concerned about him before you and I showed up, I have to assume he made both Sunday services, morning and evening and the Wednesday evening service. And today’s Friday, so I’d say he’s been dead less than two days.”
She nodded and turned to look at Harley once more. “Did he have any family?”
“I believe he had a sister who lives over in Youngstown.” Gage walked over and stooped near the body. “While I can only guess as to the time of death, there are other things that can give us a closer estimate.”
“Body temp and amount of stiffness?” She said from right behind him.
He nodded at her over his shoulder, her face inches from his as she stooped beside him. “Very good.”
“Thank you. Believe it or not, I have studied. I didn’t make this career change out of the blue.”
“Okay, what else do you see that could tell us the time of death?”
“The wound must be on the side of his head facing the floor. This side is undamaged.” She pointed to flies wiggling out from beneath Harley’s head. “Are those blue bottle flies?”
Wow, now he was impressed. “Looks like it to me.”
“Since they’re the first insects to feed off dead tissue, the stages of their egg development or larvae can narrow the time of death closer for us.”
“I’m not sure what you need me for, Gage. Looks like the young lady knows her stuff,” a thin, middle-aged, African-American man said from the doorway, a smile on his face and a large toolbox in his hand.
“Frank,” Gage went over and shook the other man’s hand. “Glad you could make it. This is Bobby Roberts, she’s…”
“His newest deputy. The Sheriff was just showing me how you can learn about a crime scene without touching anything.” She shook the other man’s hand. “The rest I have to confess I learned by watching too many crime shows.”
A meow sounded below them. All three glanced down to see the Persian rubbing up against Bobby’s legs. She knelt and picked it up. “Well, hello. Did you decide to come out of hiding?”
“Seems he likes you,” Gage said.
“Who will take care of him now that Mr. Evans is dead?”
“I’ll have to take him over to the county animal shelter for safe keeping.” Frank said, pulling a small brush out of his toolbox. “Hold him still a minute.”
Bobby held the cat close as Frank combed through the long hair. “What are you looking for?”
“Trace evidence. The cat may have brushed up against anyone who might’ve been in the room at the time of the victim’s death. Or he may have carried away evidence since then.�
� Frank put away the brush in a plastic bag and marked the outside “cat”. He picked up a sheet of paper and blotted it against each of the cat’s paws. “This is so that if he stepped in anything we’ll have it later, no matter how small.”
“Is that why he has to go to the shelter?” Bobby asked, curiosity and concern in her eyes.
“He’ll be fine, ma’am.” Frank handed Gage a set of keys. “Why don’t you get our friend caged in the back of the truck so I can get started in here.”
Bobby, with the cat in her arms, followed Gage to the truck. In the back were several cages and some bottles of water. She slipped the cat inside and scratched his head. Gage pulled out a bowl and poured the cat some water.
“What will happen to him?” she asked as they watched the cat lap up the water.
“Once we’re sure he won’t be needed as a source of evidence, he’ll be offered up for adoption. Why? You in need of a cat?”
“It’s not his fault his world changed so suddenly because the person who loved him died. He shouldn’t be punished by losing his home, too.”
“You sure we’re talking about the cat?”
The compassion in Gage’s voice almost brought tears to her eyes, but she hadn’t asked for pity nineteen years ago when she needed it. She wasn’t about to accept it now. She’d come to this town to do a job and today’s events had just made it harder.
“Of course I’m talking about the cat.” She pulled away from his grasp and stalked back to the house.
Behind her she heard his phone ring. She paused to watch him. He looked at the caller ID, his eyes narrowed and his jaw muscle seemed to twitch with agitation. He pushed a button, immediately hanging up on the caller before joining her on the sidewalk.
From the look on his face, he had no intention of ever talking to whoever had called. Why did she care? The man could drive anyone to drink.
Her nerves were just on edge from seeing her first dead body. Yeah, right. And nothing to do with the big man who keeps touching you every chance he gets.
On their way back to the house they were stopped by an audience of two elderly people, standing on the sidewalk.
“What’s goin’ on, Sheriff?” asked the little old man. “Somethin’ wrong with Harley?”
“We haven’t seen him outside last night or today,” the white-haired lady said. “And you know he prunes his roses in the backyard every day.”
Gage put his arms on both the elderly couple’s shoulders, his face softening. “Mr. and Mrs. Clarke, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Harley is dead.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Clarke put her hand to her mouth.
Mr. Clarke’s hand shook as he reached to hold his wife. “Do you know what happened?”
“We’re not sure just yet. It appears to be an accident, but the department has to be sure.” Gage squeezed both their arms. “Did you see anyone coming to visit him in the past few days?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” Mr. Clarke shook his head, glancing at his wife. “We’ve been neighbors of Harley’s for nigh onto fifty years. Ever since he was a little boy who came to our house for cookies after school. Edna always bakes her special chocolate cookies in the fall.”
“Do you need to sit down, ma’am?” Bobby stepped forward, gently grasping the elderly woman by the elbow and casting a questioning look at Gage. “Maybe I could come home with you and we could talk there while the Sheriff works here.”
“I think that’s a very good idea. This is Ms. Roberts,” Gage introduced her, steering the couple toward their house. “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell her anything that you saw the past few days.”
“We’d be happy to, Sheriff,” Mr. Clarke said.
“Our grandson Jason is one of his deputies,” Edna said as Bobby walked with them back to their house next door. “He talks to Joseph and me about the sheriff all the time.”
“Says he wants to be just like him when he finishes his courses over at the community college.” Joseph led them onto the porch and helped his wife sit on the quilt-covered metal porch glider. “You two ladies sit right here and I’ll go get Edna some water.”
“Are you the sheriff’s girlfriend?” Edna asked once Bobby was seated next to her.
Bobby felt her cheeks heat. “Me? Oh, no. I’m just helping out over at the office.”
“Gage’s father was such a good man. We need another man like him to watch over things here. We’re all hoping Gage will stay and run for sheriff again, but so far no one’s been able to talk him into it. Jason says he wants to go back to Columbus.”
“Jason says the sheriff misses the action of the big city.” Joseph handed his wife a glass of water. “Seems like he’d want to take his father’s place here, but I guess young people need lights and action more than the peacefulness of a small town.”
“People really seem to care about each other here,” Bobby said, trying to turn the conversation away from Gage’s personal life.
“Oh we do.” Edna laughed a little twitter of a laugh. “Sometimes too much. Harley used to say that gossip is the biggest activity in town.”
“So you’ve known Mr. Evans a long time?” Bobby pulled off her big black bag from her shoulder and took out a pen and the spiral notebook.
“Oh, dear, yes. Like Joseph said, he was such a dear boy. He’d come by after school and have cookies and milk. His mother was a schoolteacher and often had to stay late, so he’d just stop in and visit with us.”
“We always knew he was a little different, if you know what I mean.” Joseph said as he sat in the rocker opposite them.
“You mean he didn’t have any girlfriends.”
Joseph winked and nodded, as if that was all he had to say.
“But he was always such a sweet man.” Edna patted Bobby’s hand as if to reassure her. “He’d come and check on us once a week, make sure we didn’t need anything. When it was winter, he’d drive us to the church services, so Joseph wouldn’t have to drive on the ice or snow.”
“Did he go to church this past Sunday?”
Edna looked at Joseph. “I believe he was at both services, wasn’t he?”
“Yep. Took up the collection like always. Saw him Wednesday night, too.” Joseph nodded again.
“And did you see him yesterday?”
“Can’t say as I did.”
“How about visitors? Did you see anyone coming to visit Mr. Evans in the past two days?”
The elderly couple exchanged looks then shook their heads.
“No, can’t say as we saw anyone visiting in the past two days. But don’t rightly know about the nighttime. We’re usually asleep by eight,” Joseph explained, tapping his hearing aid. “We both take ours out at night. If there’d been someone coming to see Harley we’d have slept right through it.”
Bobby jotted the notes down. Some of this conversation might prove important if Harley’s death wasn’t an accident. She thanked the couple, promising to stop by again.
On the short walk back to Harley’s house, she worked her way through the crowd that had assembled on the sidewalk outside. Whispered words of “who is she” and “wonder what happened to Harley” filtered past her.
“Ms. Roberts.” Tobias Rawlins stepped directly in her path, stopping her progress. The newspaperman was at his side along with two men she’d never met before. “I didn’t know you knew Harley.”
“Mayor Rawlins.” Jeez, news certainly brought out the big guns in this town. “Actually, I’ve never met the man.”
“Really? Then may I ask why you’re here?”
Not that it was any of his business, but she didn’t want to make more waves, especially since Gage already gave her a cover story as his fill-in employee. “I was with the sheriff when he came to check in on Harley.”
“So someone reported Mr. Evans’ death to the sheriff?” Mr. Davis asked, taking out a notepad and pen to make notes.
No way was she giving an interview for the paper.
“No. I believe the sheriff had ano
ther reason for speaking with Mr. Evans, now if you’ll excuse me I need to get back inside.”
As she stepped onto the porch, an older man dressed in the same deputy’s uniform she’d seen Cleetus and Jason wear stopped her.
“No one can enter, ma’am.”
She gave him a smile. “You must be Daniel.”
“Daniel Fischer, meet Bobby Roberts,” Gage said as he stepped up behind the deputy. He searched the crowd on the sidewalk, his eyes narrowing. “Bobby’s helping out at the station and is a new deputy, Daniel. You can let her in and no one else. Especially the local politicians and press.” The last part he added loud enough to be heard all the way to the street.
“Yes, sir.” Daniel opened the door and stepped back to let her inside. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know.”
“That’s okay, deputy. I’m sorry we have to meet under such circumstances.”
Daniel’s face grew somber. “Me too, ma’am. Harley was a harmless fella.”
“You knew him?”
“He was a few years ahead of me in school.”
Gage clapped him on the shoulder, his mouth drawn in a line of concern. “You going to be okay watching the crime scene for the night, Daniel? Or should I have Mike come over and you can man the station?”
“I’ll be okay, Gage. Just seems a damn shame someone would do this to Harley.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t an accident?” A chill ran over Bobby. Seeing someone dead was one thing, finding out his life had been cut short by someone else gave the situation a whole new sinister feel.
“I’ll show you what we found if you think it won’t upset you.” Gage stepped back so she could get into the living room.
“It will probably upset me, but I’ll try not to get sick.”
Frank was taking pictures of Harley’s body. They’d turned him over to get a look at the wound. The right front and top of his head were a bloody mass. Bobby swallowed hard several times to keep from gagging at the sight.
“You okay?” Gage put his hand on her back.
She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.
“Okay. Frank, show her what we found.”
Close To The Edge (Westen #2) Page 11
