So, that redheaded Elliot woman had dealt with the Scarborough situation. He stuck a yellowed nail up one nostril and scraped, inspecting the stiff residue before flicking it from his finger, wondering why in the world Hoffner allowed women on the force. It was bad enough with all the coloreds and spics, but women? Never would have happened under the old sheriff. Women were weak, unable to meet force with force. He conceded that some women were better peacemakers than men; that old nun from India, she was a good example. But women weren’t equipped to deal with the complexities of the modern world. They simply didn’t have the smarts or the grit. All this equal rights nonsense had been running the country into the ground for decades, and now it was impacting his little slice of the world.
He listened to his wife prattle to her sister about lunch and watched her hang up the phone with a satisfied smirk. Tutting, she tugged the unlit pipe from his mouth and deposited it in an ashtray before swooping down to gather his socks and shoes. She placed them in the laundry basket and closet, fussing gently about the pills he’d forgotten to take with his lunch. Now this is more like it, he thought, admiring her still firm bottom as she bent over to stuff cedar blocks into his shoes.
He pulled his tie over his head and handed it to her, and then reached for his phone as he lowered his glasses to examine the buttons. He needed to know how things were progressing out at the Scarborough’s.
CHAPTER 15
“ARE THE COWS HURT?” Angie Scarborough asked as they entered her room. She struggled to keep her eyes open as Dr. Ramasubramanian checked her pulse. The left side of her face bloomed red and raw in the fluorescent lights, the white of her eye now a slit of angry scarlet between her swollen eyelids.
A narrow hand snaked from a dim corner next to the bed, reaching to stroke her dark hair. “Now sweetheart, just calm down.”
The younger woman pulled away, eyes clearing. “Are they hurt?”
“Ma’am, were you driving the truck?” Mitch asked.
“The cows,” she demanded, straining to push higher on the pillows.
“They’re fine,” Cass answered, closing her eyes briefly against the hospital’s antiseptic scent and the memories it evoked. “None were injured.”
“Thank God.” She found the position she’d struggled for and settled with a tired sigh. “I guess you want a statement.”
Cass glanced at Dr. Ramasubramanian. The thin man nodded once, balding head gleaming in the overhead lights. “Yes, ma’am, if you’re strong enough to talk.”
“Now Angie, you should wait until we’ve got a lawyer down here.” A pinched woman leaned toward the bed, her face strained in the bright lights. “Think of the children.”
“For once Mother, I am,” she said, softening her words by reaching for the slender hand. Angie drew a shuddering breath and focused on Cass. “I killed Lenny. You found the pictures?”
Cass nodded.
Angie’s eyes filled with tears. She pointed to her face. “He did this when I confronted him. He’s hit me before, but never like this. He’s usually smarter, tries to hide the damage. Maybe he knew what was coming and didn’t care.” She fingered the smooth sheet. “He didn’t deny it. Any of it. Just laughed when I told him I’d found him out. He laughed, can you believe that?”
“What are you talking about?” her mother asked.
“Your perfect son-in-law is – was – a homosexual and abusing your granddaughter.” The older woman gasped as the sound of Angie’s choked laughter filled the small room.
“Lenny was no such thing,” her mother said, voice sharp. “He has always been a kind and gentle husband, and has given selflessly for the children. Detective,” she added, watery voice growing stronger as she pulled herself into the light, “I insist that this stop right now. She’s suffered a severe shock seeing her husband killed like that. And she’s confused from the sedative the doctor’s given her. I may need one myself if this goes on.”
“That’s enough, Mother! You have no idea who Lenny was. I will not bend to him any longer.” Her words were firm, eyes bright as she found Cass again. “I told him I’d take the pictures to the police. That’s when he started to laugh, and he hit me. It must’ve knocked me silly, because next thing I knew I was flat on the ground and Lenny had gone back to working on the cows.” She drew a deep breath.
Dr. Ramasubramanian shifted his slight weight and placed a hand on Angie’s shoulder. “The police can wait, Mrs. Scarborough. I would like for you to rest now.”
“Not yet, Dr. Rambo. I need to finish it.” She focused on Cass. “I don’t know if it is my daughter in those pictures. Maybe it doesn’t matter. All of Lenny’s preaching at me for all these years, and it was nothing but lies. I knew it wouldn’t stop. So, I climbed in the cab, punched the accelerator and speared him.” A ghastly slash split her face when she smiled. “He turned at the last minute and I watched his face in the rearview mirror. He didn’t think I had it in me.”
“Did he say where the photos came from?” Cass asked.
Angie shook her head. “He just laughed.”
“What photos are you talking about?” her mother asked.
Cass had looked to Mitch when Angie spoke, her tired voice flat. “Pictures of your son-in-law screwing other men and raping at least one child. Pictures don’t lie, Mother.”
“Oh my goodness,” the older woman whispered, skin growing sallow as she looked at Cass. “Lenny? Is this right?”
“There are photographs, but we haven’t confirmed identities yet.”
“Lenny’s in them,” Angie replied. “He has scars on one hip and on his chest. The right side. Match them to his body.”
“Good heavens,” her mother breathed, eyes rolling back in their sockets as she slid toward the floor. Mitch lurched for her as Angie started to giggle, developing a deep belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes.
Dr. Ramasubramanian shouted for a nurse and rushed to help Mitch move the older woman to a chair. He checked her pulse, his dark, solemn eyes watching Angie as she cackled.
“Fainting is a suitable Southern response to anything vulgar, Dr. Rambo. Wave smelling salts under her nose and give her some attention. She’ll be fine,” Angie assured him, blowing her nose. She sighed, cheeks glowing and good eye twinkling. “Lord, I feel better. Look, you might as well sit down. I need a Dr. Pepper and I’ll be fine. Who has change for the machine?”
CHAPTER 16
OFFICER SCOTT TRUMAN SCRAPED the cow muck off his boots and joined Kado and Munk near the Scarborough’s back door. Tall and slender, his fair hair and skin confirmed a Scandinavian ancestry. But instead of the traditional clear blue eyes, Truman’s were hazel and fringed with gold-tipped lashes. Their color almost matched the tawny shade of a lion’s eyes, and women found them irresistible. He watched Munk wipe mustard from the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks for the burgers,” Munk sighed. “I was starving. I can’t believe it’s almost five o’clock.”
“Speaking of being hungry, I put out more feed for the cows. The ones that Lenny finished with this morning ate everything and the cows stuck in the chute looked hungry. Is two bags enough for forty head?” Truman asked, leaning against a patrol car.
Kado raised his eyebrows, gray eyes thoughtful. “I’ve never even wondered how much a cow eats. Munk?”
“They’ll make it until morning,” he grunted, squinting toward the barn. “Looks like Lenny put fresh hay out. Must be why the dolly was still out there. Did you open the side gate?”
Truman grinned. “They headed straight for the pond.”
Munk stretched his pudgy arms over his head, yawning as Mitch’s truck turned into the drive and pulled to a stop. “How’d it go with Angie?” he called.
“Unbelievable,” Mitch said. “She confessed.”
“Did you arrest her?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“There might be mitigating circumstances.”
“What could mitigate spearing your husband? T
hat was pre-meditated.”
“According to Angie, Lenny was involved with a group of men that had some religious connection and they’d meet once a month, always at night. Lenny seemed to think he was special because there weren’t many men involved. He had a briefcase that he kept stuff relating to this group in, including some sort of purple choir robe and a religious text that he read instead of his Bible.”
“What’s wrong with a little fellowship? Maybe the text was inspirational. Sounds normal enough,” Munk said.
“Lenny wore some kind of choir robe when he was with these guys, and Angie said that sometimes it came home smelling like smoke and dirty with mud or blood.”
Munk raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little bizarre, but I still don’t see why you didn’t arrest her.”
“Two reasons,” Mitch answered. “First, she said that Lenny had hit her before today, so the abuse could be long term. Second, she thought that was her daughter in the photographs, and she suspects they were taken while Lenny was with this group of men. If so, there’s a whole group out there abusing kids.”
“But she killed him. She admitted it.”
“Angie’s not going anywhere, Munk. We need to deal with the murder, but abuse is the real issue.” Mitch hesitated, eyeing Munk and wondering how his personal history would impact the investigation. “There’s at least one girl being raped in those pictures.”
Color flushed up Munk’s cheeks and he rubbed clenched fists into his eyes. “You’re right. And given what I saw in the rest of the photos, the ones that were upside down, it could be gang rape.”
They were silent for several moments, the ticking of the engine and the rustling of the cows the only noise in the golden afternoon.
“How badly is Angie hurt?” Kado asked.
“She was pretty beat up,” Mitch answered. “Her face is bruised and Dr. Rambo said she probably has a concussion.”
“Could she be making this stuff up?”
“She was lucid, if that’s what you mean.”
Munk shook his head. “It just seems strange to think of Lenny Scarborough being messed up with something like the Klan and abusing kids.”
“I don’t think what she described is the Ku Klux Klan.”
“Why not?”
“The Klan tends to stir things up, not just meet at night and prance around in robes. They also recruit actively, not limit their membership. I’m sure they’re around, but things have been quiet for a while now.” Mitch stood and stretched. “Have you moved anything in the house?”
“No. Just took photos and prints, and inventoried the pictures in the kitchen.” Munk rolled his eyes toward Kado. “After I checked with the forensics guy.”
Mitch ignored him. “Good. I wasn’t sure we needed the prints, but I talked to Sheriff Hoffner, and he thought the men in the photographs might’ve been inside the house at some point. We may be able to ID them that way.” Mitch’s eyes wandered over the frame house. “Did you have any inkling that something like this might be going on around here?”
Munk shook his head and Kado just shrugged.
“Truman?”
He stared at the ground, young face pale. “I’ve never heard about the kind of things Angie told you.”
“But?”
“But, I have been asked to join a group of men.”
“And?” Mitch asked, frowning as he rested an elbow on the side of the pickup’s bed.
“It’s probably nothing. I haven’t even gone. Just haven’t had time.”
“Why is it bothering you?”
Truman took a deep breath and ran a hand over his short blonde hair, trying to smooth his cowlick. “I guess it sounded weird to me. It’s this elite group, membership by invitation only. They try and make a difference in the community.”
“Sounds like the Lion’s Club or the Masons.”
“Yeah, but they meet in the woods. And,” he said, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it, not even my family.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“When were you approached?”
“Six months ago. After I joined the force. That’s why I haven’t done anything with it, I just haven’t had time.”
“Who approached you?”
Truman hesitated again.
“Scott,” Mitch continued, “if you think there’s a link between this group and the men that Angie believes are molesting children, you’re obliged to report it.”
“Mitch,” Munk interrupted quietly. “I think we should go in the house. Give Truman, Kado and yourself a chance to see these photos and look for more. If Truman’s got any doubts, that’ll clear them up.”
____________
TRUMAN SAT WITH HIS head between his knees, Mitch’s hand on his back. “You all right?”
“Yes, sir,” he answered, voice muffled as he spoke to the floor in Lenny Scarborough’s study. “I’ve never seen anything like this, that’s all.” He gulped a breath of air and slowly raised himself upright to look at the computer monitor. “I mean, pornography’s one thing, but this…”
“Girly magazines are in a different league, huh?”
The young man blushed and glanced at Cass, who burst out laughing from her position next to the bookcases. The room had grown murky in the early evening gloom and she flipped on the overhead light as she regained her composure. “Truman, my six brothers must’ve collected a copy of every Playboy and Penthouse magazine ever printed. I’ve probably seen more of them than you have.”
A shaky grin crossed his face.
“You all right?” Mitch asked again.
Truman nodded and pointed a trembling finger at the computer’s screen. “This is definitely Lenny. The scar matches the photo Grey sent to you.” He flipped the phone shut and handed it to Mitch. “There are no bookmarks or cookies linking to pornographic websites, nothing to indicate that he’s used the computer for pornography other than the photos.”
“You think they were all taken in the same place?”
Truman flipped between several shots. “The background never changes. There’s no natural light. Looks like wooden walls, maybe paneling. I can do more with them at the station.” He paused and scanned the other directories. “What do you want me to do with this? There’s homework and stuff on it.”
“That was risky, wasn’t it? Keeping the photos on the same computer? I mean, kids are pretty smart these days. Why didn’t they find the pictures?”
“The file with the photos in it is password protected. Lenny taped the password to the bottom of his desk drawer. It’s a combination of Lenny’s and Angie’s initials and birth dates. A kid wouldn’t have figured that out,” Truman answered. “Kado, do you want the whole computer? There are 49 shots in this folder.”
“Yes.” He held up a digital camera. “There are no shots in memory but we can try and pull images from the chip.”
Munk returned to the room, placing the damp wastebasket next to the desk. “Kado, I took a sample and washed the rest of the stuff out.”
“Thanks, Munk. That was a nasty job.”
He grunted, color returning to his pockmarked face. He turned his back to Kado and faced Cass at the bookshelves. “You want help with those books?”
“Finish checking those two bottom shelves for pictures. I’m almost done with the rest,” she answered, flipping the pages of a slim volume by C.S. Lewis. “This,” she hefted a heavy tome and looked at its spine, “is the book Angie found the photos in. The Church of the True Believer.”
“How did she know to look there?” Munk asked.
“She said she’d seen Lenny sliding it into the bookcase and thought he was hiding a birthday card in it. She found the photos when she came to look. Did you find the briefcase?”
“I checked the house after you called,” Munk answered, awkwardly settling into a cross-legged sitting position on the floor, “but didn’t see it. Searched through the closets looking for that robe, but there
was nothing in any of them. You sure nobody’s been here?”
“I don’t see how,” Cass replied. “We’ve had an officer here since Edith Lovil called it in and nobody else has been out here. Anything from the prints?”
“Angie keeps a clean house. At first glance, it looks like two or three sets of adult prints and several kids. Who’s the officer on duty?”
“Chad Garrett,” Mitch said. “I’ll speak to him before we leave. You check the attic?”
“And the root cellar,” Munk answered. “Nothing down there but cobwebs and mason jars.”
Mitch knuckled his eyes, stifling a yawn. “Seems strange that we found the book but not the other stuff. Angie said she didn’t know what was in the briefcase, that Lenny kept it locked. But, she knew about the purple robe because she’d washed it for him. Said she hung it in the closet but it would disappear and she figured he put it in that briefcase. Truman, are you done with the computer?”
“Yes, sir,” the young officer answered, folding the last of the cables and placing them in a box for transportation to the courthouse.
“Go have a look out in the barn for this briefcase and robe. While you’re at it, check the car out front. I think the keys are by the door.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mitch waited until he saw Truman take the keys from their hook and leave the kitchen before speaking again. “If what Angie told us links up with this group that approached Truman, I don’t think he fits the profile.”
Kado’s head popped up from behind the desk, where he was flipping through the files in a bottom drawer. His gray eyes were clouded. “Mitch, are you thinking cult?”
The Devil of Light (Cass Elliot Crime Series - Book 1) Page 7
