“Ma’am, I asked you a question,” said the detective, his dark eyes staring intently at her.
“Yes, we knew the area was closed for the winter,” said Tess.
“Then why were you two out here?” he said.
Tess glanced at Char and then down at Goober. She wasn’t prepared to tell the detective that a poem in an old book had prompted them to drive to the preserve. To do so would give him cause to treat them as suspects or label them as “crazy old ladies.”
Not fond of either of those two options, she said, “I come out here every so often to walk my dog. He got away from me. So, we went looking for him inside the preserve, and that’s when I saw the body.”
He seemed to be looking through his notes. “According to the Whispering River dispatch, you told them that you entered the preserve through an opening in the fence?” He looked up at her.
“Yes, that’s correct,” said Tess. “It looked like someone had taken a pair of wire cutters to it.”
“Wire cutters?” he said, his brow creasing.
She shrugged. “I don’t know for certain, but I can tell you that it didn’t just rust apart. Someone deliberately cut it.”
“Can you show me where you found it?” he said, sticking the pad and pen back in his inside pocket.
“Sure. It’s not too far from here.” She glanced down at the detective’s leg. “But there’s a creek we’ll have to cross and no real trails to follow, so we’re probably going to need to take one of those.” She gestured with her head to several four wheelers parked next to the gully.
According to the police, when they got the 911 call from Tess, knowing that the preserve was closed for the winter they immediately contacted the park ranger to get the key for the main gate. And for maneuvering the narrow trails, they came prepared with a variety of ATVs.
“Wait here a moment,” said the detective. He walked over to a policeman sitting behind the steering wheel of a green and yellow, four-wheel drive, John Deere Gator, whipped out his credentials and seemed to have a quick conversation with the officer. He pointed over his shoulder to Tess and Char, and a moment later, the policeman nodded.
The Detective walked back over to the two women and said, “I’ve arranged to have one of the officers give Ms. Dougherty a ride back to your vehicle in one of the four wheelers with a truck bed on the back end for the dog . . .” he looked at Tess, “while Ms. Langley and I will take a ride to see if we can’t find that cut in the fence.”
Tess looked over at Char. “Are you okay with that?” When Char nodded, Tess dug her keys out of her pocket, handed them to her and said, “Make sure you hold onto Goober’s leash. I don’t want him jumping out.”
The two of them stood up and were escorted by Detective Curtis over to the Gator with the policeman sitting behind the steering wheel. The detective bent down, wrapped his arms around the dog and picked him up, carefully setting him down in the back. Char went around to the passenger’s side and slid into the bucket seat.
“Will you please take Ms. Dougherty to her vehicle parked out by the main gate?” said Detective Curtis to the officer.
“Sure, detective.” The policeman turned to Char and said, “Put your seatbelt on. The trail can get pretty bumpy.” While she buckled in, the officer took Goober’s leash, looped it round the roll bar and tied it in a knot so that the dog couldn’t jump out. He looked at Char again and smiled, “Ready?”
Char nodded then looked over her right shoulder at Tess who was standing by the passenger’s side, petting Goober. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
“I know he will,” said Tess, giving the dog’s ear one more scratch. She backed away from the vehicle, still staring at the dog. “We’ll see you in a bit, okay boy? You be good, and mind your Aunt Char.”
The dog let out a subtle whine.
The officer cranked the four-wheeler to life, and as they drove away, Detective Curtis turned to Tess and said, “Shall we?”
“Sure,” Tess said with a nod.
The two walked over to an ATV that reminded Tess of a motorcycle with four wheels. Detective Curtis swung a leg over the seat, grabbed the handlebars and then looked over his shoulder at Tess. “Hop on.”
Tess straddled the seat behind the detective with her arms down by her side.
“You better hang on,” he told her as he pushed the start button and put the vehicle in gear. “I don’t want you falling off.”
Reluctantly, Tess wrapped her arms around the detective’s waist. It felt unnatural but surprisingly good, and that made her feel guilty, like she was cheating on her deceased husband. She had not even looked at another man, let alone touched one, since she and Howard first met over thirty years ago in college.
As the detective maneuvered the vehicle across the creek and through the trees, Tess latched on a little tighter and thought, I’m just helping him find the cut in the fence, nothing more.
Then she leaned in a little closer to him and took in a subtle sniff of his aftershave.
Chapter Eleven
It was close to seven o’clock by the time Tess and Char were able to leave the nature preserve. She and Detective Curtis had found the cut in the fence, and while he took photographs with his phone and various measurements of the vandalism, she texted Char to make sure that Goober was all right.
When the detective was through documenting the area, he gave Tess a ride back to the Durango, and upon his request, she gave the man her address and phone number in case he needed more information from her.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said to her, and then he thanked both of the women for their efforts in the finding and recovery of the victim.
Now, as Tess pulled into her driveway, she looked at Goober in the rearview mirror and said, “Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” said Char from the passenger’s seat, “seeing how we never did get a chance to eat our sandwiches.”
“For some reason, I’m not,” said Tess, pulling the keys from the ignition. She glanced over at the old book cradled in her friend’s lap. “Maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about Rachael Warren.” She shook her head. “Even though the detective wouldn’t say for sure, I know it was her. I could tell by the white streaks in her hair. I think she had what’s called ‘poliosis.’”
“I’ve heard of that,” said Char. “It’s the absence of melanin in the hair.” She shuddered. “I’m sorry for not being more helpful. I just couldn’t make myself look at the . . .” Her words trailed off.
“It’s okay.” Tess shook her head. “I just keep wondering why she was out there in the first place. Was she hiking?” She looked over at her friend. “If so, was she the one who cut the fence?”
Char shrugged. “I don’t think so, otherwise Detective Curtis wouldn’t have been so surprised when you told him that the fence had been cut.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” said Tess. “Plus, they would have found the wire cutters on her.”
Char let out a breath. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think she was there of her own volition.”
Tess had come to the same conclusion, but didn’t want to say it. Thoughts of that poor woman being either forced out there while she was still alive or killed and then dragged out there caused her to swallow hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a little shake, forcing those images out of her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and glanced once more at the book still in Char’s lap. “C’mon. Let’s go in and see if we can salvage those sandwiches.”
Once inside, Char shivered, wrapped her arms around herself and said, “Brrrr! It’s colder in here than it is outside.”
“I’ll start a fire. You go get the sandwiches.”
Tess walked over to the fireplace and loaded it up with paper, kindling and some split logs. She struck one of the long matches and shoved it in at the bottom of the pile, instantly igniting it.
Looking down into the hopeful eyes of her dog, she said, “C’mon, Goobs. Let’s get you some
dinner.”
A few moments later and with a full dog bowl in her hands, Tess entered the living room and found Char sitting on the couch with the book on the coffee table along with the two club sandwiches.
“I put some water on for tea,” Tess said and glanced at the sandwiches. “Are they still okay to eat?”
“They’re fine,” said Char. “The house kept them cold enough, like they’d been in the refrigerator all day.”
Tess was pretty sure that was an attempt at a subtle dig, but she chose to ignore it. She set the dog bowl on the floor close to the fire—which Goober promptly gobbled up—then sat on the couch next to Char. She stared at the book but with different eyes this time. Clearly, the book had led them to Rachael Warren’s body. There was no denying that now.
Before she’d been excited about the possibility of the book, somehow, being magical. But now, staring at its fine gold filigree edges and its pristine leather covering, she wasn’t sure she even wanted it in her house anymore. There was something unnatural about it.
“I thought we could take a look at the next pop-up,” said Char, “you know, maybe see what else it’s trying to tell us.”
Without responding, Tess grabbed one of the sandwiches, unwrapped it and took a bite. She didn’t think she was ready to start searching for another missing person, if that truly was the purpose of the mysterious book. She had never seen a dead body before—other than Howard’s—and after what they went through this afternoon, she didn’t think she would ever have the fortitude to be confronted with another one.
Her eyes gravitated to the book again and a thought suddenly hit her. What if there’s more to it than just finding her?
If Rachael Warren had not gone out there on her own accord, then that meant someone else was involved.
The kettle’s shrill whistle pulled Tess from her thoughts. She got up, and a few moments later returned carrying a tray with two mugs, a teapot, a small pitcher of cream, and a couple of spoons.
She poured the tea into a mug with Christmas trees on it and handed it to Char. Then she poured some tea into her candy cane mug and said, “Okay, let’s see what else the book has to say.”
Char carefully opened the book and flipped through the pop-ups, pausing briefly to look at each. When she landed on the fifth one, she stopped.
A pair of opened hands popped up holding five connecting gold rings, creating the shape of a flower. Perched upright in the middle of the palms, the rings seemed to be attached to a piece of stiff wire, as if it were a stem, allowing them to twirl freely, like a top, when touched.
Printed on the page beneath it was another poem:
On the fifth day of Christmas,
Five rings all made of gold.
Not for the hand, but a place to stand.
A treat for the young and old.
Char gave the flower shaped rings a little flick with her fingers, sending them spinning round and round, and then said, “Well, we know that Max had intended on asking Rachael to marry him. So, it looks like this still has to do with them.”
Tess stared at the spinning rings. “Yes, but the poem says the rings are not for the hand.” She looked over at Char. “What other gold rings are there?”
Char shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know . . . What about an ice-skating ring?”
“It’s rink, not ring,” said Tess.
“Well, they’re round like a ring, and remember, the book doesn’t appear to be literal, you know, like the field of wheat or Blackbird Lane.”
“I don’t know of any gold ice skating rinks around here.” Tess took another bite of her sandwich and chewed. “It’s got to mean something else.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea,” said Tess.
The two sat there silently eating their sandwiches, each lost in their own thoughts, when Tess’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from her coat pocket, and not recognizing the number, she pushed the green button and said, “Hello?”
“Hello, Ms. Langley?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Detective Curtis. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No, detective, not at all. What can I do for you?” She put the phone on speaker so Char could listen in on the conversation.
He let out a subtle sigh. “I wanted to let you know that I got a call from the coroner. It was confirmed by the parents the body was that of Rachael Warren.”
“Oh, dear . . .” said Tess in a hushed voice. “Do they know how she died?”
He seemed to hesitate before answering her. “Based on the preliminary findings, it appears that the victim was strangled to death.”
Char sucked in a breath and put a hand over her mouth.
“Oh no . . .” whispered Tess. “Someone killed her inside the preserve?”
“Not necessarily,” said the detective. “Based on the evidence found on her clothing, under her fingernails, and around the cut in the fence we think she was, most likely, killed outside the preserve. The killer probably cut the fence, dragged or carried her into the preserve and dumped her body there where you found her.”
“Have you contacted her boyfriend, Max Dovelin, to let him know?” said Tess.
“No, not yet,” he said. “Now that this is a murder investigation, we’re going to have to bring him in for questioning.”
Tess glanced at the book. “Can you tell how long she’s been dead?” said Tess.
The detective let out an audible breath. “Based on rigor, the coroner puts her time of death at sometime between Saturday afternoon and Saturday evening.”
“You mentioned you found something under her fingernails?” said Tess.
“Yes, a red substance. We sent it to the lab for analysis.”
“Thank you for letting me know, detective,” said Tess. “If there is anything we can do to help, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you,” said the detective. “I’ll keep you apprised of any new information. Oh, and Ms. Langley?”
“Yes?”
“It was very fortunate that your dog just happened to get lost in the preserve and that the two for you went looking for him. Otherwise, Rachael’s body might not have been found until spring.”
“As terrible as the whole situation is,” said Tess, “I’m just glad we were able to find her.”
After Tess hung up, the two women sat in silence staring at the opened book, the spinning gold rings glinting off of the flickering fire.
Tess set her half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table, picked up the book and said to Char, “Clear your schedule, honey, because tomorrow you and I are going to go find us some golden rings!”
Chapter Twelve
It was decided that Tess would pick Char up at nine o’clock, and then the two would spend the day trying to interpret the clues from the book. To anyone who asked, however, today was going to be a day of Christmas shopping.
At nine o’clock sharp—after dropping Goober off at Hannah’s house—Tess knocked on Char’s door, and a moment later, a husky man with a lumberjack’s beard and bright blues eyes opened the door.
Dressed in a red and black plaid flannel shirt with a pipe sticking out of the breast pocket and holding a cup of coffee, the man smiled broadly and said, “Hey, Tessla . . .” That was his nickname for her—a combination of her first name and part of her last. “C’mon in. She’s waiting for you in the kitchen.” He closed the door behind her and followed her. “So, you girls are going shopping today?”
“Yes,” said Tess.
“You heading to Rome, maybe hitting the mall?” He took a sip from his mug.
Tess shrugged. “We haven’t decided yet.”
“So, what are you ladies going to be shopping for? Holiday outfits? Maybe some shoes?”
“Don’t know,” said Tess without looking back at him.
“Well, you have to have some kind of idea of what you’re looking for, otherwise you’ll be wasting a lot of time just driving around. You gals need a plan of at
tack, an inkling of what you’re wantin’ to buy so you’ll know what direction to drive.”
Charlie Dougherty was a talker, always asking questions to keep people engaged. Most of the time, Tess welcomed the mild interrogation, but not today. Today she needed her friend’s husband to quit asking questions.
“Charlie,” said Tess, stopping abruptly, causing him to nearly run into her. She turned around and looked at him. “It’s Christmas. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask so many questions during Christmas?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Charlie stared at her for a moment as if interpreting what she was insinuating. Finally, he arched his eyebrows and a smile bloomed on his face. “Ohhh, I see. Well, then in that case, maybe you should drive to Utica instead of Rome.”
Tess creased her brow. “Utica? Why Utica?”
“Because they have a couple of nice Bass Pro Shops in Utica,” he said with a wink as he brought the mug up to his lips and took a sip.
“Oh good, you’re here,” said Char, coming from out of the kitchen. She gave her husband a peck on the cheek. “See you in a few hours.”
“Take all the time you need,” he said and flashed her a knowing smile.
As soon as the two of them walked out the front door and headed toward Tess’s Durango, Char said, “What was that all about?”
“Charlie thinks we’re going Christmas shopping for him,” said Tess, unlocking the vehicle. “A place called Bass Pro Shops.”
“Been there, done that,” said Char with a laugh.
Ten minutes later, Tess parked in front of Wheaton’s Deli behind a bright red, late model, Lexus LC500 sports car. They had decided to go there first for a skinny caramel latte and a place to strategize.
“Shall we bring the book with us?” said Char, cradling it in her arms.
Tess glanced at it and then at the deli. She could tell by the amount of people seated at the outdoor tables that the place was probably pretty crowded inside. “No, I don’t think so,” she said. “The less people that see it, the better.”
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 59
