Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (15 page)

“You heard Harrison Ragsdale died?”

“Good news travels pretty fast.” Brown's face showed satisfaction. “I do hate him—did hate him, you hear. I know he killed my boy and claimed it was an accident. I hope he suffered a lot.” He pulled out a faded blue bandana handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “I don't suppose you'll tell me what happened?”

Tony shook his head. But the old man's question made him curious.

Tony still remembered the accident that had occurred when he was young and new to Silersville. The Brown boy had been riding his bicycle after dark out on the highway when he was struck by a car. Tony's own mom had been so upset by the incident she'd locked all the family bicycles in a shed and made all four kids walk everywhere for a month.

As a parent, Tony fully understood how the unthinkable event would never fade in the old man's memory. What Tony wanted now was to know if Mr. Brown came to the festival and if so, had he been carrying a sharp stick? Had Ragsdale even been the one driving the deadly car? How many years had passed? More than twenty for sure, maybe closer to thirty.

Early the next morning, after a semi-sleepless night disturbed even more by heartburn and nightmares of zombies driving cars and catapults tossing vegetables, Tony retrieved the Sunday edition of the Knoxville newspaper. A real newspaper. Their local
Silersville Gazette
provided gossip, school lunch menus, and event listings twice a week. For news and, more particularly, sports news, it held nothing national. Baseball season was his favorite time to read the paper. This morning's headline stopped him.

“Killer Spud in Silersville.” The byline, his nemesis, newspaperwoman Winifred Thornby. The accompanying photograph showed people charging toward a prone figure on the ground. A second photograph was of him, can-can skirt and all, standing near the body. The article began, “Sheriff Tony Abernathy is investigating the suspicious death of long-time Silersville resident, game warden Harrison Ragsdale. To this reporter's questions, he merely claimed to have no comment. Only time will tell if the sheriff's department will be able to clarify the events to the satisfaction of this reporter and the citizens of Park County.”

Tony wondered who would write the follow-up article, “Sheriff Strangles Reporter.” He envisioned a photograph of Winifred's body, wrapped in a blue tarp, lashed to the roof of his vehicle. He started to slam the door behind him, but remembered his family sleeping upstairs. To release some of his tension, he threw the newspaper at the wall. Predictably, it just became disordered. Not satisfying at all. He picked it up, shuffled it into some semblance of order, and went upstairs to shower and change. This Sunday was going to be just another work day. He'd read the paper when he got home.

Tony wanted to talk to the mayor's nephew. Carl Lee Cashdollar was as honest a man as Tony knew, but everyone had a breaking point. Maybe his wife had encouraged him to give the game warden a taste of his own medicine. Tony had seen the younger Cashdollars dancing before the cannon episode, but not after. A series of radio calls established the couple had to have left during the confusing moments immediately after the body fell. They had not given a statement at the museum.

Wade joined Tony at the Cashdollar house.

Carl Lee opened his front door when Tony knocked. He smiled a greeting. “Come in, Tony. Wade.”

Tony handed the attorney the Knoxville paper they'd picked up from the sidewalk. Tony and Wade went inside and stood just inside the door. “This isn't a social call. Is your wife here?”

“Yes.” Carl Lee's expression was suddenly wary. “Is there a problem?”

“I hope not.” Tony didn't move. “Can you ask her to join us?”

Carl Lee loped toward the kitchen and returned with his wife. Jill was wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. While not a beauty, she had a sweet face and had always given the impression of being quite shy. “Sheriff?”

“You two were at the Ramp Festival.” Tony began. It wasn't a question.

“Yes, we left early,” said Carl Lee.

“Any particular reason why?”

“It was the smell.” Jill waved a hand in front of her nose. “At first it was just awful, and then it got even worse. I couldn't eat my hamburger because the air around us smelled so bad. We had to leave.”

“My wife's a diabetic and has to monitor her meals and eat on a schedule.” Carl Lee wrapped an arm around her slender waist.

She nodded. “It's not usually such an issue, but yesterday I needed to leave. A little breeze would have helped a lot.”

“What's this about?” Carl Lee's attorney radar must have signaled him again.

“Harrison Ragsdale.”

“That man!” Jill's eyes flashed with anger. “I'm sure he killed my cat. Carl Lee thinks he ran over her like he was trying to do it.” When her husband squeezed her gently, she went quiet but shook her head, her fury still evident.

“Ragsdale's dead.” Tony watched for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

Jill smiled.

Wade looked up from his notebook. “What time was it when he ran into you?”

“Close to one-fifteen. We were on the way out.”

While Wade wrote the information in his notebook, Tony said, “I don't suppose you're his lawyer or know if he has a will?”

Carl Lee laughed. “The man was never a client of mine. I'd be surprised if he buys anything local. What happened?” Carl Lee looked directly into Tony's eyes. “He was alive when we left. He bumped into us as we were trying to make our way to the parking area. Almost knocked me over and spilled Jill's diet drink all over her shirt.”

Tony saw the cola stain on her T-shirt. “Are those the clothes you wore yesterday?”

“Just the shirt. I decided that as long as it was dirty I'd wear it while I do some work in the flowerbeds before church. It's much too pretty a day to stay inside.”

“Thank you.” Tony believed the couple and was relieved to finish their interview and cross them off one list. “I just have to verify who was where.”

Tony and Wade drove to the university and tracked down Orlando Espinoza. The dapper little man sat at a library table, a newspaper spread before him. When Tony approached, Espinoza tipped his chin down and looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Sheriff?”

The man's snotty attitude raised Tony's hackles. What did his aunt see in him? “You left the festival rather abruptly yesterday.”

“Yes.”

If possible, the man managed to convey even less personal warmth than before.

“Would you care to tell me why?”

“No.” Espinoza tightened his lips making his mustache quiver.

“If you prefer I can take you back to Silersville with me. You can call an attorney, and then the two of you can decide what your next move might be.” Tony was just irritated enough to do it, and it must have shown.

“There was someone there with whom I did not wish to speak.”

Tony gripped his pen a little tighter, pretending it was Espinoza's throat. “Whom?”

“Mr. Ragsdale.”

“Ah,” Tony drawled the word, giving it several extra syllables. “And why not just avoid the man? Why leave?”

“Because, he's a nasty worm, and Martha was busy, so I left.” Some of the fight went out of him. “It's all because of Martha. You know, some women were born to be the cause of duels. Can I be faulted for finding her worth dying for?”

“And Ragsdale?”

“The pig! He said he'd kill me if he ever found me within ten feet of your aunt. He not agree to my offer of duel.” Mr. Espinoza pressed both hands to his heart, his fingernails looked sharp but not clawlike. “That man carries a gun and a cane he swings like club. I no match for him if not in fair duel. Martha busy. I leave.”

Tony wasn't sure if Espinoza knew of Ragsdale's demise. In his agitation though, his flawless English clearly had certainly developed a few cracks. “What time did you leave?”

“Why these questions?” Espinoza's face flushed and a fine bead of sweat formed at his hairline. “I dislike you.”

A glance around the area showed no one close enough to overhear the conversation. “I dislike you too. I wasn't fond of Mr. Ragsdale, but I will find out why he died even if I have to haul your sorry butt out of here in handcuffs and shackles.”

“Died?” Espinoza withered, deflating like a leaky balloon. “I left at half past two.”

Wade drove them back to Silersville. “Did you have any idea Harrison was duel level interested in your aunt?”

“No.” Tony felt a bit dazed. “I wonder if she knew.”

“I think your aunt is a wonderful woman,” Wade's voice trickled off.

“I do too, but fighting a duel over her? In this day and time, that's a bit unusual.” Tony coughed. “Assuming what he says is the truth.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

Wade's eyes were covered by very dark sunglasses, but Tony would swear he saw them sparkle with merriment. “I think what you're saying is that
you
want to be there when I tell her.”

“Yes, sir.” Wade bobbed his head. “I would enjoy seeing her reaction. A lot.”

Minutes later they were ushered into her kitchen. In Tony's opinion, Martha's kitchen was one of the great places to visit. It was warm and full of light. It wasn't homey and worn like the kitchen in his and Theo's house, a combination kitchen and family room. Now that Gus had remodeled it, Martha's kitchen was also a very efficient place for her to cook and entertain guests. Her house had a living room, but he doubted he'd ever sat on one of her chairs or the plush sofa.

Martha poured coffee into mugs for him and Wade and set them on the table along with some brownies and cookies Tony was sure she'd bought at the festival. “Eat first, then talk.”

“Have you talked to Mr. Espinoza since he left the Ramp Festival?” Tony spoke around the chunk of walnut in his mouth.

“No.” Martha sighed heavily and pulled the corner off of her cookie and nibbled it. “I don't understand why he left so early. I thought he was having fun.”

Next to him, Wade choked on a crumb. Tony glared at his deputy. “Drink your coffee.”

“What's going on?” Martha didn't believe in beating around the bush. “You two are acting like some of my freshman English students.”

Tony sighed. “How would you describe your relationship with Harrison Ragsdale?”

“Hairy Rags? We didn't have a ‘relationship.’ I detested the man. He was like some creepy movie villain who crawled out of caves and turned into a werewolf.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, obviously trying to calm herself. “I did receive a few anonymous letters that I'm pretty sure he wrote. They were all, ‘I've worshipped you from afar for too long.’ Or ‘When I think of you, I'm transported to heaven.’ ”

“Hmm, lovely.” Tony scribbled more notes. “So were you impressed?”

“Do you still have the letters?” said Wade.

“No, to both of you. I'm telling you, having an admirer like him did not make me happy. I can't count the number of times I would see his truck and take evasive action to get home or wherever I was going.”

“And contacting your favorite nephew, the sheriff of this fair county, didn't fit into your plans?” Tony tried a stern look.

Instead of acting contrite, Martha handed him a cookie. “Honestly, Tony? I did think of it but I had no proof that it was him sending the letters, and I certainly didn't think he was doing anything illegal.” She crumbled her own cookie into tiny bits. “At first, it was kind of fun to have a secret admirer. Only as time went along it didn't seem like so much fun, and then it felt creepy and I had no proof it was him, and then I just hoped it would stop and he would magically go ‘poof’ and vanish.”

“I'd say having someone stab him with a wooden stake was something less than magical but certainly efficient.” Tony picked another cookie from the plate.

“Is that what happened to him? He was stabbed?” Martha looked horrified. “What an awful way to die. I thought it was the potato.”

Wade cleared his throat, looked at Tony for permission, and set his brownie on the napkin. “That's not exactly what happened.” He paused to gather his thoughts for a minute and started again. “The actual cause of his death has not been established.”

“Maybe you'll find that there was a whole gang of people who wanted to do away with him.” Martha tried a smile but failed. “A potato and a wooden stake and what? Maybe a plastic spoon?”

“Really not funny, Martha.” Tony leaned forward and patted her shoulder. “I know you're shocked by all this, but I believe at least two men were vying for your heart. What's to say there aren't more?”

“Is that why I can't get a date to take me to the movies? Honestly, Tony, I'm not the hot ticket around here that Blossom is.”

“On that subject,” said Wade, “who was the man Blossom was dancing with? Grace was drooling on my shoulder while she watched them. Don't you think a newlywed should have a bit more self-control?”

Tony couldn't help himself. He started laughing. The idea of Wade's wife preferring to look at some other guy while dancing with the man once voted “Most Gorgeous” in the Park County charity election tickled his funny bone. It was in the same election where he himself received the most votes for “Best Bald Head.” The more Tony thought about it, the funnier it struck him. Martha evidently agreed, because she was in semi-hysterics. Then she developed the hiccups. Tony howled.

Wade simply sat and stared at the two of them while he drank his coffee and finished a thick, chewy brownie. A gleam of apparent satisfaction lit his dark blue eyes. The eyes once rated, “Best of Show.”

“As for the handsome one, Jane calls him Doctor Looks-so-good. He's a dentist friend of Berry's. You might suggest Grace have her teeth cleaned if she wants a close-up view.” Martha managed to blurt out the whole sentence before succumbing to the giggles again.

Waiting on his desk when Tony returned to his office was a photograph of the crumpled cars and a note from Sheila: “Although Mr. Brown continues to claim that he was on the property and no accident occurred, I have learned from sources who wish to remain anonymous (and I don't blame them) they saw Angus Farquhar ram into the damaged vehicles with his truck. According to these sources, he appeared to rev the engine up and charge toward the vehicle in front of him and make a slight steering adjustment before doing the same in reverse.”