Murder by Gravity

by Barbara Graham

  The moment the parade ended and the boys reclaimed their candy bags, Theo hurried into the communal workroom in her shop.

  Tony encountered Maybelle Ruth on the sidewalk in front of Theo’s shop. The knife gone from her back, she was fresh and clean, her hair had been combed, and she was dressed in worn, but clean, street clothes. There was color in her cheeks, and although she still looked much older than her fifty-five years, she didn’t look seventy anymore. A young man stood next to her.

  “I’m Bobby Ruth.” He offered his hand. “Her son. I understand I have you to thank for Mom’s rescue.”

  Tony shook his head. “Actually it was my wife.” He watched as Maybelle wandered away from the two of them and studied the window display of Theo’s shop. There was a spark of interest and longing in her face. Tony had seen that expression on any number of his wife’s customers.

  “Aren’t you Theodore?” Bobby’s eyebrows pulled together. “I was told a Theodore found her. And was the sheriff.”

  “Theodore is my wife,” Tony said. “She was named by her grandfather. The old man didn’t care that his hero’s name on a petite woman would cause numerous cases of confusion.”

  Bobby seemed distracted. “Mom’s been unsettled ever since my dad died. The two of them had next to nothing and we, my wife and I, asked her to leave Kentucky and move in with us. She gets a little social security but not enough to cover all her expenses.” He shrugged. “I thought it would be easier than it’s turned out to be.”

  Tony thought the young man’s sigh told the whole story. “She’s not happy?”

  “No.” He studied the sidewalk. “She wants to leave but has no place to go, and I don’t know what to do. She says she has no friends, and we keep the house too clean for her to have even housework to do.”

  “Hobbies? Church? Volunteer in the community?”

  “She quilts a bit. You know, cuts up our old clothes and sews the pieces together to make blankets.”

  “Quilting. Yeah, I know a little about that.” Tony resisted the impulse to laugh at his understatement. He guessed the distressed young man wouldn’t appreciate his sense of humor. “I think it would be good for her to meet my wife. This time without a knife.”

  “Mom’s standing just over there.” Bobby paled a bit at the word “knife.” “I’ll go get her.”

  Theo was halfway under a table in the workroom when an unfamiliar female voice said, “I was told I had to come talk to you.” Startled, Theo raised her head quickly and cracked it on the underside of the table. “Yow.” She backed out, hand on her head, and looked up. The voice came from the woman she’d found with a knife in her back at the grocery store. “Pardon me?”

  “My son says I have to talk to you.”

  Theo smiled. “Nobody has to talk to me, but I’m glad to see you up, out, and about.” She was about to say something about how she was hoping the woman felt better but didn’t have a chance because the woman interrupted her.

  “I’ll leave then.” The woman turned abruptly and took a step toward the front of the store.

  “No. Wait. Don’t leave. It would be nice if you could stay a bit, maybe have a cup of coffee and meet some of the regulars when they stop by.” Theo saw a look of such longing on the woman’s face, it made tears well in her own eyes. “Please stay. I’m Theo.”

  “I’m Maybelle.”

  Theo dived back under the table and this time emerged with the marking pen she’d dropped. “Do you quilt?”

  “Yes.” The voice was almost a whisper. “But I don’t intend to stay in this town.”

  “Why not?” Theo could guess. “Once you meet a few kindred spirits, it won’t seem so cold.”

  “I just don’t know what to do.” Maybelle twisted her fingers together. “My daughter-in-law is very sweet, but nothing I do is the way she’d do it. They’ve got no kids for me to watch. I don’t cook their kind of foods and the house is already spotless.” The last words were delivered with a sob. “But I haven’t got enough money to live on my own since my husband died.”

  Just as Theo poured a cup of coffee for the woman, she heard babbling through the baby monitor. “Here, have a seat for a moment. I have to get my little girls and bring them downstairs.”

  Before Maybelle could protest, Theo dashed up the stairs.

  Two minutes later, she returned with the twins.

  “What beautiful little girls.” Maybelle’s eyes sparkled. “May I hold one?”

  “Here, start with this one.” Theo offered Kara to the unhappy woman. “Kara is a love sponge.”

  “What a precious little girl.” Maybelle cooed and ran a hand over Kara’s fuzzy hair.

  Kara, always pleased by praise, grinned and unerringly reached up and stuck her finger in the woman’s nose. Maybelle laughed and pulled it out.

  Theo carefully checked the floor for stray pins and released Lizzie to explore the room, but not before the little girl managed to rip several strands of her mother’s hair from her scalp. Theo’s hairs dangled from two tiny fingers as Lizzie reached toward a chair. The tiny explorer couldn’t walk without hanging onto something, but there were lots of chairs and usually hands available to help her cross the space. Where Kara was a mellow little snuggle bunny, Lizzie had a fierce temper and an independent spirit. It was a volatile combination.

  Maybelle was instantly charmed by them both and Theo, being an adoring mother, was equally charmed by the way her children responded to Maybelle. A shadow of an idea came to her. Maybe this could be the beginning of something good for all of them. It was getting harder each day for her to keep tabs on the twins and get any work done. Even a half-day without the tiny tyrants would be wonderful. She couldn’t pay much, but Maybelle would have some extra income, a discount on fabrics, a sense of purpose, and, best of all from Theo’s point of view, she might not end up pulling her own hair out by the roots.

  The parade over, a few of the regular ladies wandered into the shop looking for coffee, quilts, and babies. They greeted Maybelle with gentle enthusiasm and settled in for a visit. Theo thought one of the nicest things about hanging out with other quilters was having a shared interest to discuss. New people were easily assimilated into the group. A simple question often received fifteen different answers and could keep the conversation going for days.

  “What’s the progress with the barn quilt project?” Theo’s favorite of the over-eighty crowd was Caro. “Is this snow going to cause much of a problem?” Caro looked concerned.

  “Of course.” An acerbic voice came from the doorway. Eileene Bass had arrived. The woman, until recently when her husband passed away, had been almost invisible and never spoke to anyone. Now they couldn’t shut her up. “No one can paint or hang anything in this weather. Our project will never be hung in time.” She made it sound like a prediction of the world ending.

  Caro stood her ground. “If it’s already painted on a wooden square, it can be hung in a blizzard.”

  Hoping to avoid the beginning of another running battle among the seniors, Theo offered cookies. “We’ve got two of them up already. If you drive out toward Old Nem’s chicken and egg farm, you can see one on the old barn out there. And, of course, we managed to get one up on the museum office.”

  Eileene looked ready to explode. “You’re not hanging one on that antique barn are you?” Disapproval dripped from each word.

  “No. We are not. These go on private barns with the owner’s permission.” Theo chased down Lizzie and moved her away from the coffee cup she had been reaching for. Disappointment made Lizzie squall. Kara joined in to support her twin.

  Maybelle leaned forward and whispered in Lizzie’s ear and the toddler went silent. And then she laughed.

  “That cinches it. You’re hired.” Theo hoped her plan for May-belle would work out for everyone. “We’ll sit down together and come up with a work schedule. That is, if you want to take the job of part-time babysitter for the dynamic duo.”

  “Really?” Maybelle looked like she�
��d just been told her lottery ticket was the big winner. “I would love to spend my days with your babies. I would feel useful and not in the way.”

  Theo laughed. “And I would really, really love a chance to get some of my paperwork done.” Theo felt a great weight lift from her, making her almost giddy. Doing paperwork was not her favorite task, but it was flat impossible with the girls helping.

  “Um, Sheriff, um . . .” The words came through Tony’s radio.

  Rex’s improbable hesitation completely grabbed Tony’s attention. His chief dispatcher hadn’t fumbled for words more than twice in Tony’s recollection. He automatically tensed, expecting disaster at hand.

  “You know the woman, Mrs. Fairfield, the one who keeps her embalmed husband in the parlor?” Rex sounded more in control of himself.

  Tony could still picture his introduction to the happy couple. “I’m still trying to erase tea time with the family from my brain. Why are you bringing it up now?” Tony could feel trouble brewing.

  “Well, sir . . .” Rex’s dramatic pause lasted only a split second. “Mrs. Fairfield says her husband has been stolen.”

  Tony pulled his cell phone away from his ear and moved it to the other one. Maybe he needed to have his hearing checked. “Sorry, I’m not hearing well. Say again. Stolen?”

  “Yessir, her words exactly.” Rex cleared his throat. “No. That’s not completely true. She said that her husband’s casket, with him in it, has been stolen and she wants him, with the casket, returned. Forthwith.”

  “Forthwith?” Tony repeated the word. He guessed it was the first time any of his citizens had used that one. Not for the first time, Tony wondered if there was something inside the former Prigmore home that induced crazy behavior in its occupants. Nellie Pearl Prigmore had gone from eccentric to completely demented. Alzheimer’s was the eventual diagnosis, but she’d always been odd. Now they had Mrs. Fairfield living there, with her embalmed husband—was it the house that attracted her? Some woo-woo force in the woodwork? Or was it just plain old coincidence?

  “Sir, are you still there?” Rex’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What should I tell her?”

  “Tell her I’m on the way, and send Wade; he’d probably quit the department if I left him behind.”

  “Roger that, sir.” Rex disconnected.

  Tony wasn’t sorry to get away from the paperwork and other public service issues involving his office. In between emergencies, he was working on a speech for the senior citizens group, explaining a new proposed “buddy system,” but his brain was drifting off the subject. He really wanted to explore the new idea he’d had for a book. He’d begun rewrites of his Western, but he didn’t like it. It lacked something. Still, he was proud of himself for finishing. Maybe he should turn it into a mystery. He’d decided his years in law enforcement made him want a crime to have a satisfactory arrest. He definitely would not set the novel here. He wanted zero crime in his own county. Hiding from people wasn’t going to help.

  He headed to Mrs. Fairfield’s house. Wade was already there, waiting for him in his official vehicle. His expression was serious as he climbed out, but Tony saw a sparkle of curiosity in his deep blue eyes as Wade approached the Blazer.

  “Did Rex tell you why we’re here?” Tony reached for his jumbo jar of antacids and put two in his mouth and six in his shirt pocket. He hoped that would be enough to get him through this interview.

  “No, sir, but I’m guessing from the number of antacids you’re palming that it looks like you’re expecting more heartburn than usual.” Wade’s expression grew more serious. “Trouble?”

  Thinking his deputy was both perceptive and correct, Tony nodded. “It has been reported that Mr. Fairfield, casket and all, has gone missing.” He kept watch for Wade’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “Sir?” Wade’s often praised and incredibly handsome face went completely blank. Then the dark blue eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Did you say missing? On Halloween?”

  Tony nodded as he reached for the door handle. “I like to write fiction, but I can’t begin to make up something like this.”

  Wade glanced to the home’s perfectly normal front door. Three perfectly normal steps led up to the door. He looked back at Tony. “Sir, you have to be making this up. No one steals a coffin and a body. Out of a house?”

  Shaking his head, Tony climbed from the Blazer, his notebook already in hand. He wondered if he should take an extra one. “I just know this is going to take a lot of paper.”

  Wade fell in step next to him and they marched up the sidewalk, climbed the steps, and rang the bell.

  Much more subdued than usual, Mrs. Fairfield opened the door and ushered them into what might have been called a parlor in earlier years. A space along one wall was empty except for a long wheeled platform. In another home, the space was large enough to be occupied by a sofa or a large flat-screen television or even a couple of easy chairs and a lamp table.

  After insisting she sit with them, and refusing all offers of tea, coffee, and water, Tony cleared his throat. “When did you discover the theft?”

  Mrs. Fairfield waved a lace-edged handkerchief in a somewhat theatrical manner before using it to dab very real tears from her cheeks. “I came home from luncheon at the senior center, and was all excited to tell him about something I heard there, and he was gone!” The handkerchief flapped aimlessly and she stood up and began pacing in an agitated manner. “I don’t know what to do!”

  “Please have a seat, Mrs. Fairfield.” Tony was concerned the distraught woman was about to faint. Her color had gone from pink to gray. “You look quite unwell. Should we call for medical assistance?”

  “No.” Mrs. Fairfield clutched Tony’s forearm, using it to help lower herself onto the sofa. “I’ll be fine, as soon as you find and return Mr. Fairfield to me. I’m sure I can’t sleep in this house unless he’s here. In sixty-three years, we’ve never been apart.”

  “My congratulations. That is a very impressive number.” Wade wrote something in his notebook. He hesitated slightly. “Was he a large man?”

  “Oh my, yes, he was a fine figure of a man.” Mrs. Fairfield sat up straighter, clearly heartened by their attempt to help. “Not as tall as either of you. He’s about five feet ten inches and sadly, a bit overweight.”

  “You only moved here a short time ago? Maybe a year at the most?” Tony was thinking out loud. He couldn’t imagine any motive for the theft. How many people even knew about the casket? “Why Silersville?”

  “It was our dream.” Mrs. Fairfield smiled dreamily, staring at an old photograph of her husband hanging on the far wall. “We came through this area on our honeymoon and loved it so.”

  “Did you tell many people about your husband?” Tony asked. “That is, about his continuing to be above ground?” Part of him couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

  “Why, don’t you read the Silersville Gazette?” Mrs. Fairfield looked shocked. “There was a big article in the paper just last week. I thought that delightful Ms. Thornby did a perfectly lovely job of capturing our relationship.”

  Tony didn’t want to explain his own perfectly awful, or at least dreadfully poor, relationship with the Gazette’s owner/editor. He had avoided reading the newspaper the previous week because he wasn’t in the mood for another wacko diatribe by the editor. Winifred Thornby and he had not gotten along well since high school. She now took delight in pointing out every flaw and mistake made by him, his department, and his family, and the election year had brought out the worst in her. Even though months had passed since the voting, she was still on an editorial rampage.

  “In this article, were there pictures?” Tony could almost bet there were several photographs. News was sometimes hard to come by and feature articles were padded with numerous photographs and quotes.

  Mrs. Fairfield clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh yes, and we discussed the problems created by decorating a living space around a coffin. You may not have considered the
problems. It’s not easy to find the right arrangement. I need to be near my beloved, but I do like to be able to see the television.”

  Tony glanced up at the large-screen television mounted on the wall. “I’ll admit I’m not much of a decorator myself.” He very carefully looked over at Wade.

  To his credit, Wade’s expression remained polite. “I read the newspaper article and found it was very interesting. Is it true that the coffin itself weighs over four hundred pounds?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Fairfield looked thrilled that Wade had remembered such a detail. Her enjoyment of the discussion temporarily superseded her grief. “It does have a very special copper lining, which adds a fair amount to the weight.”

  Their words washed over Tony. He was busy considering the mechanics of lifting and hauling away a full-sized man in a heavy coffin. Six hundred pounds. Several thieves had to work together. “Excuse me a moment.” He left Wade and the widow chatting softly and went to the door. He opened it and carefully examined the door frame. Sure enough there were a couple of spots where it looked like careless movers had bumped it, or the thieves had struggled with the weight. “How long would you say you were away today?”

  “A couple of hours,” Mrs. Fairfield said. “Three at the most.”

  “Maybe they stole it for the copper,” Tony mumbled.

  Wade’s head popped up and his mouth opened, but then he glanced at the bereaved and closed it again, making Tony guess his deputy wondered why the thieves bothered to take the body with them. It was an interesting question. In fact, Tony was coming up with lots of questions but none he planned to bother Mrs. Fairfield with, at least not at the moment. “Would you feel better if I got someone to come here and stay overnight with you?”

  Tears flooded the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, could you? I’m just so upset, and I don’t think I can stay here alone. And where would I go?” She sobbed. “Miss Kitty hates being in a carrier.” She waved her handkerchief in the direction of a large calico cat perched on a chair near the window.