Corpse in a Crate

by Winnie Reed

  “Please. Emma. I can’t spend all my time off following you around from state to state. Could you please make a promise and keep it? Could you please steer clear of that man?”

  I couldn’t help but bristle at being told what to do, but I wasn’t out of my mind. This was not the time to argue with him, not when he’d just saved my butt. “Okay. I’ll make a point to stay away from him. I’ll mind my own business.”

  “No reason to start exaggerating on me. I know you have no intention of minding your business. You could just at least fly under the radar. Can you do that much?”

  “Is that really why you came down here? Because my mom said I was here? You drove for three hours?”

  “Why can you never just answer a simple question?” Before I had the chance to reply, he sighed. “No, that’s not the only reason I came. But I did travel faster than I normally would have, now that you mention it. Call it a sixth sense when it comes to you. You have a way of finding trouble.”

  “Why did you come? What’s going on?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t get anywhere if I told you it isn’t any of your business, would I?” he asked.

  “No, probably not.”

  Rather than continue driving, Joe pulled over at the nearest empty spot and put the car in park before turning to me. “I had a theory. Something occurred to me overnight, one of those things that floats into your head just as you’re on the verge of falling asleep.”

  The last thing I needed to be thinking about was Joe, in the process of falling asleep. What did he wear when he was in bed? Sweats? Shorts? Nothing at all? Oh, my.

  He continued, unaware of what that simple little statement had done to my pulse. “I haven’t found out anything concrete from the police department, but it seems to me that the presence of all that heavy equipment around the farm can’t be a coincidence.”

  “I don’t follow,” I murmured with a frown.

  “What if whoever dug up that body—and yes, I’m assuming it was dug up, since there was no evidence of decomposition inside the chest—did it because of the activity at the farm? What if they knew that body had been buried there, and they knew it was only a matter of time before someone found it?”

  At first, my heart skipped a beat. This was by far the most logical theory I’d heard. Still… “But they put it in the attic. I mean, obviously, somebody was bound to find it at some point.”

  “Maybe not. Nate said it himself; whoever chose that chest chose well. There was no guarantee they were going to clear out the attic, not then or ever. And even then, they might easily have disposed of the trunk and everything else in the attic without ever opening it. You know those companies that are around now. They bring a big truck and you simply dump your things into it and that’s all. If the bottom hadn’t fallen out when the guys picked it up, there wouldn’t have been a discovery.”

  “Whoever did it must’ve been trying to cover up for their crime,” I murmured. “But who could it be? Who might’ve killed Matthew Patterson? Obviously, it would be somebody who’s still alive today.”

  “Boy, that’s a great bit of detective work,” he snorted.

  I gave him my most withering look. “Pardon me if I’m thinking out loud,” I sniffed. “Anyway, whoever did it must still be alive, which would make them pretty old, probably. Right? I mean, Matthew’s supposed drowning took place fifty years ago. That’s a long time.”

  He held up a finger. “Remember, he didn’t necessarily die fifty years ago. Kevin’s father could have been alive all along, could’ve gone into hiding. He might’ve lived another thirty years for all we know.”

  My heart sank at the sense he made. “So, what’s the idea? Why did you come here? I mean, that’s a great theory.”

  “I thought about looking around over there, at the farm.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Detective Sullivan, are you suggesting trespassing on private property?”

  “As if you haven’t already done the same thing. And might I remind you, I was the one who got you out of that tough situation, too. Now that’s twice I’ve helped you in less than a week. You’re going to owe me when this is all said and done.”

  I scoffed. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”

  Okay. Maybe I did a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit.

  I kissed the top of Lola’s head. “I would need to get her back to my room and put her in her crate. I’m supposed to have her in the crate if I plan on leaving her alone in the room.”

  “Wait. Who said I planned on taking you with me? Am I ever going to learn my lesson and stop cluing you in on my ideas?”

  “No, probably not. But that’s okay with me. Listen, I’m just gonna walk around with you. That’s all. What’s the harm in that?”

  His jaw worked, and I noted the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I never said I needed anyone to come with me.”

  “I swear. I won’t be any trouble. But I’m insanely curious.”

  “I can agree with one of those two words to describe you,” he muttered, then reached out and patted Lola’s fluffy head. “Tell me he didn’t hurt the dog.”

  “Not intentionally, and I think she’s okay.”

  “He’s lucky,” Joe grunted.

  I thought the tightness of his jaw might have gotten worse as he put the car in drive and pulled away again.

  How was I supposed to keep a guy who liked my dog at arm’s length? I wasn’t made of stone, for heaven’s sake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I thought we were going to the farm.” It came as a surprise when instead of continuing down the tree-lined road which led to Nate’s farm.

  Joe made a quick right into the parking lot of an old diner.

  “I know you’re in a hurry, but I always work better on a full stomach.” He glanced my way. “I guess I should’ve asked first whether you’re hungry or not.”

  “Oh, I could eat. I didn’t know how hungry I was until we pulled in.” The aroma of fresh burgers which I would’ve sworn on a stack of bibles they must’ve been pumping through the diner’s ventilation system made my mouth water and my stomach growl.

  There I was, about to share a meal with Detective Joe. One might’ve even called it a date if one didn’t mind me telling them to mind their business.

  Raina would never let me live this one down.

  “Besides,” he added as we walked across the gravel lot, “I don’t want to be seen walking around the farm. The closer we are to darkness, the better.”

  “It’s mid-May. It’s not dark until after eight o’clock.” And it was just past six.

  He shrugged. “We’ll have to take our time, then.”

  Oh, goodness gracious. Nothing good could come of this. I didn’t know half the time whether I wanted to tell him off or kiss him until it hurt. Hours spent together wouldn’t make things any better.

  The diner did a good business, it seemed, with scads of happy, sunburnt customers order burgers, fries and hot dogs. I passed one table where a mom shared a banana split with two eager, freckled kids. Lucky them.

  I wondered if Joe would be willing to share one.

  We slid into a booth facing out over the lot and I looked over the menu. It seemed they took their business seriously, offering only a handful of dishes. “I like that,” I murmured, nodding.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know about you, but it irks me when a diner’s menu has, like, ten pages. How many things can you possibly have in your walk-in, and how fresh is it? How much of what I’m about to eat was frozen before you popped it into a microwave to thaw it out?”

  I thought for a second that he would give me grief for being a snob. Instead, he chuckled with a wry grin. “The perils of working in food service. You know too much about what goes on behind the scenes.”

  “Too much,” I groaned. “Which reminds me. I hope my mother didn’t keep you on the phone for ages when you called.”

  “She didn’t.”

  �
�I hope she didn’t hint around at there being a hidden reason behind your call.”

  “She did.” He burst out laughing at my stricken expression, and I decided I liked him a lot better when he laughed. “Don’t worry about it. She’s a nice lady. She loves you to death.”

  “Sometimes I think that’s what it’ll end up being. Death.”

  “If anything, I give her a lot of credit. Not just because she runs a business that’s beloved by the entire town, but because she still has hope.”

  “Hope? What you mean?”

  He looked like he wished he hadn’t said it. I found him looking around in near desperation like he hoped our server would come over and interrupt us. No one did.

  I waited, hands folded on top of my closed menu, blinking. “Well? I’m not trying to interrogate you. I’m just curious.”

  He shrugged. “Hope in, you know. Personal relationships. I understand she and your father are divorced.”

  I searched my memory, wondering when I could possibly have had a reason to tell him that. We hadn’t exactly gotten into personal details.

  As if he read my mind, he continued, “It’s something I overheard at the café the other day. You never told me that.”

  I covered my face with my hands and groaned in despair. “Jeez! Is that the sort of thing people talk about? The divorce was years ago.”

  “Actually, they were talking about your father’s girlfriend.” When my mouth fell open, he held up his hands. “Nicely. They were saying nice things about her. But they didn’t like her first, because it would’ve been like being disloyal to your mom, but Holly seems like a nice person.”

  Well, that was good. “She is. She doesn’t deserve to be hated just because of my father. Still, it’s unnerving that you know so much about my family just from sitting in the café for a little while.” I chewed my lip, looking out the window while drumming my fingers on the Formica tabletop.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s more than that. I mean, these last several days, I’ve heard so much about a family who I’m completely unrelated to. They have nothing to do with me, and I have nothing to do with them. But I practically know their entire life history, and it makes me wonder how stressful that has to be for them. You walk down the street and everybody already knows your business. It’s not like back in Cape Hope, where everybody means well. It’s nice to feel like there’s a community around me. Here, it sounds more like petty gossip. A bunch of people with nothing better to do than dissect the lives of the wealthy. It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “That’s how people will always be. They would rather worry about the lives of other people than take a good, long look at themselves. I guess it’s easier that way. It’s a diversion. Entertainment.”

  “Somebody else’s life should never be entertainment.”

  “Look around. The lives of the wealthy and the famous are always used as entertainment. You hear about them on TV, on the news. While listening to the radio. We can mind our own business and never actively look for gossip, but it lands in our lives anyway simply because it’s so readily available.”

  I snickered. “Well, this got dark pretty fast.”

  He snickered along with me. “You’re right, and that is so unusual given our history.”

  When the server dropped by to take our order, I was laughing. She looked upon us favorably, winking at me. “That’s what I like to see. A happy couple enjoying each other’s company.”

  I didn’t have the time to flush from head to toe with embarrassment before Joe burst out laughing again. Maybe I didn’t like his laugh so much, on second thought. “Oh, no! We’re not a couple.”

  I stared holes into the side of his head. “Don’t hurt yourself, tripping over your tongue to make sure everybody knows we’re not together that way.” Like it was such an insult, the thought that we were a couple.

  The well-meaning server put a hand over her mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so nice together.” I wanted to ask her if she enjoyed rubbing salt in open wounds. Maybe it was a hobby, something she did on her days off.

  I settled for ordering a burger, fries, and a shake. Joe did the same, and barely waited a second once we were alone to lean in. “Sorry. I have a bad habit of getting flustered at times like that. I say the wrong thing.”

  I shrugged like it couldn’t possibly have meant less. “No big deal. I understand.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Oh, sure. It sounds like you understand perfectly. You aren’t peeved with me at all.”

  “And what else is new?” I asked with a sweet smile.

  He pursed his lips, looking down at his hands. They were folded on top of the table, his thumbs twirling one over the other. “So what does your friend the photographer think about all this?”

  For a second there, I was sure I must’ve misheard him. “The photographer? You mean Deke?”

  “If that’s the name of the guy who was working with you at the Riviera opening, then yes.”

  “You know his name,” I sighed. “I know you do. Remember, you spoke with him, too.”

  “Fine. Deke. Deke, Deke, Deke. Is that better?”

  “Oh, much,” I snickered. “But I don’t see what he has to do with anything. I haven’t talked to him in almost a month.”

  “Oh, really? Interesting.”

  “What’s so interesting about it?”

  “I just think it’s interesting. What’s so wrong with finding something interesting?”

  “It’s your tone of voice. It’s the way your eyebrows practically lifted off your head. That’s the expression of a man who has something on his mind.”

  “Right, I forgot. You’re a criminal justice minor.”

  “Darn skippy,” I replied. “I’m also a grown woman who doesn’t appreciate your attitude. What did you major in, smart guy?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. “I find it interesting that you haven’t talked to Deke in so long, is all. The way he was acting that night on the beach, it looked for sure like there was something more between you two.”

  So it wasn’t just my imagination, thinking there was something more between us. Somehow, that didn’t make me feel much better. “Well, it doesn’t matter. He dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “What if something happened to him? I mean, jeez. You’re always the one who assumes the worst right away. Not that I’m trying to upset you or make you paranoid, but it’s reasonable.”

  “Let me ease your mind. There was never anything between us. We weren’t together in that way. He doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t owe him anything. What’s done is done.” I made a big deal of rubbing my hands together like I was washing them.

  He kept his thoughts to himself, whatever they were. And he was smart to do it. Deke was not exactly a topic I felt like getting into. I didn’t even want to talk about him with Raina, much less Joe.

  In fact, maybe it was time for Detective Joe to get a taste of his own medicine. “What about you? You never really talk about yourself. But you made a comment earlier about my mom still believing in relationships after she’s been hurt. You sounded like you knew what you were talking about.”

  “There’s that journalism major, to boot.” He snickered, his brows lowered. “I should know better than to try to interrogate you.”

  “I didn’t know this was interrogation, Detective.”

  His mouth quirked up in a smirk. “I’ve been single for a long time. I would like to leave it at that.” Our eyes met, and there was something in his that stole my breath. “I would appreciate it if you would respect my wishes on that.”

  All I could do was nod. There were times when even I knew it was better to keep my mouth shut.

  Our food arrived, and we settled on bland topics of discussion after that. Lola, mostly. How we both felt about living in shore towns. “I grew up in Paradise City,” he said, dunking a bunch of fries into ketchup which h
e’d salted then shoving them into his mouth. “In a family of cops, in fact.”

  “Well, so we do have things in common after all.”

  “Yes, except in my case, there was never a question of what I would do for a living. I would be a cop, end of story.”

  “Are you unhappy about that?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He shook his head. “Of course not. I love what I do. It’s what I grew up around. I used to beg to go on ride-alongs with my dad, my uncle, my older brother. It’s just what my family did, and I wanted to be part of it so I could be part of them.” He nodded to me. “Kind of like you. Sure, you didn’t become a cop, but you worked a long time at your mom’s café and you write about food. It’s what you know.”

  “That’s true,” I admitted. “I wonder how much of our lives is choice and how much is chance.”

  His green eyes twinkled. “The only chance I’m wondering about is whether there’s a chance of getting a sip of that milkshake of yours. I should’ve ordered one myself.”

  I pulled my glass away, protecting it like I’d protected Lola earlier. “Get your own.” I laughed.

  Chapter Twenty

  The presence of clouds in the sky help darken things up considerably by the time we reached the farm. Joe’s instincts had been right on the money: the equipment was quiet now, there were no lights on in the house. The chances of our being seen were slim to none.

  “I wish I had a good feeling about this,” he muttered just the same as he brought the car to a stop behind the house.

  I guessed he must’ve parked there on Saturday, before saving me from the trench. No wonder I hadn’t seen him. From this angle, the orchard was completely hidden.

  “What’s there to have a bad feeling about? There won’t be any trouble. We’re only looking around.”

  “I am looking around,” he corrected me. “Not you. Remember? That was one of the prerequisites for you coming along with me. You will not do anything but trail behind me. If I ask you to hold a flashlight, you can do that.”

  “Oh, gee, can I?” I smirked, rolling my eyes.