Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (27 page)

“Sheriff, I have some video you might want to see.” Rex Satterfield's voice came through the radio.

Tony had asked everyone in the department to check any photographs or videos they or a family member had taken at the festival. Rex was the only one saw far who had seen anything of interest. He hurried to the dispatch desk to view the recording. The footage showed swarms of spectators moving toward the field, apparently focused on Harrison's body, but beyond them the Farquhars, including Angus, ran the other direction. Tony saw them knock over a few people before one of the younger Farquhars dumped the money from a tip jar into his bunched up shirttail and rejoined the pack.

“I want to talk to the Farquhar ‘darlin' boys.’ All of them.”

“Damn those Farquhar boys.” Tony's outrage propelled him from his chair. None of his deputies could find a single one of them. “When I want to talk to them they vanish, and when I don't, they turn up on every corner I turn. I'd like to ship every Farquhar out of this county, the state, and the country. One-way. Let's just pack them into a big, strong crate with a few air holes and a couple of bottles of water and nail it shut. Send it away.” Tony moved to pace in the hallway outside his office. “Forget the water.”

Watching from her desk, Ruth Ann's dark eyes showed no sign of shock. She very precisely placed the polish brush into the bottle and twisted the top closed. “What country are you hoping to provoke into a war? Receiving a gift like a box of Farquhars couldn't be excused.”

“You're starting to sound more like a lawyer every day.” Just saying the words gave him a chill, cooling some of his anger. “Did you pass your bar exam?”

“I don't know yet.” Ruth Ann blew gently on her brilliant blue fingernail polish. It matched the color of her blouse. “Word should come in soon though. I feel pretty good about it.”

Tony settled onto the chair next to her desk. “I'm sure you'll pass.” His stomach gnawed and he realized he felt close to panic, thinking about what would follow if Ruth Ann did pass the bar exam. “And then? What's your plan? Abandoning us?”

“Do you want me to leave?” Ruth Ann's dark eyes met his.

“Hell, no.” He studied her expression. “Are you planning to practice law and keep up with your manicures and run this office?” Tony ticked each item on the fingers of his left hand. “Plus there's Walter. Now that his mama's moved from your house and back to her own, you get to go home to your husband at night.”

“I do enjoy being at home much more now. When Walter was unable to be left home alone, she was a necessary and helpful visitor.” Ruth Ann did smile then, her teeth brilliant white in her cocoa-colored face. “I don't miss her.”

Tony felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe Ruth Ann wasn't going to jump ship, at least not any time soon.

“Our new trailer has arrived.” Tony led the deputies and Ruth Ann through the law enforcement building and into the small parking area in the back surrounded by a ten-foot fence topped with razor wire. It looked like part of the jail facility exercise yard. A shiny new trailer painted green and white and decorated with the Park County sheriff's logo sat in solitary splendor in the enclosure.

“Wow.” Several voices spoke in a ragged chorus.

“It looks bigger in the cage than it did on the parking lot.” Tony had some experience hauling a trailer, but not much. He was going to have to do some serious practicing before he would feel comfortable parking it in front of witnesses. He had no desire to become the laughingstock of the county or, even worse, to back the thing off the side of a mountain. Some of their narrow, twisting roads were difficult enough to navigate with the Blazer; he wasn't looking forward to dragging the trailer, however useful it might be.

“What's going inside?” Ruth Ann stared at the paint job.

“Emergency stuff.” Tony thought he'd leave it at that. Knowing he'd have to practice parking after midnight, he wasn't in the mood to discuss the projected contents.

The first night he decided to practice, he felt a little awkward backing the Blazer into just the right spot to hook the trailer onto the back of the vehicle. Actually driving and pulling it felt somewhat different, but not difficult. He learned fairly quickly about how much extra time he needed to make a smooth stop. He turned a few corners too wide and realized he needed to compensate more. Driving up and down the hills of the county after midnight gave him a different perspective of his world. When he was first elected sheriff, he had made lots of nighttime drives and soon realized the lack of sunlight was not the only difference. A completely different set of people traveled the dark roads.

His parking and backing-up practice was not immediately successful. After almost tipping the whole business on its side, he quit sightseeing and studied the various problems he encountered, hoping to solve them. A family of possums sat by the side of the road staring at him. The mom and her little ones wore the same avid expression his boys displayed when watching cartoons and video games. He suspected he looked much the same when watching baseball on television. At least the possums were quiet and well mannered. Lined up in the weeds, they simply watched, offering no advice. When Tony managed to make the turn, backing up a little, forward a little, until he could head in the other direction, he was sure he heard them cheer a bit. It felt good.

He passed J.B.'s cruiser several times. The deputy had preferred to work the night shift for as long as Tony had been sheriff. On this lovely evening, driving around in the moonlight, Tony could almost understand why. Illuminated by the full moon, the landscape was darker than the sky. Occasional yard lights or headlights on other vehicles on the road were blindingly bright after the shadows. His headlights reflected from the wide eyes of critters out for an evening stroll. A huge owl swept from the sky, picked up an unwary mouse and soared silently past his windshield. He passed so close Tony could see individual feathers. A few miles closer to town, he saw Sheila parked by the side of the road. She was supposed to be off-duty, and it looked like she was trying to break up a fight between a short, squat woman and a much larger man. Tony pulled over to help.

In the light from the headlights, the woman appeared to be winning the fight. Her waist was wider than her chest. Her stringy, dishwater blond hair flew about her face, accentuating her missing teeth, almost all of the ones on the left. She shrieked. “He's the one you ought to arrest. He's cheating on me.”

The man pressed both hands over his bleeding nose. “Come on, Candy, that's not fair. She's my wife.”

“Well, you ought to treat me better than her.” Candy hauled back and threw a punch. The boyfriend ducked, and Candy's fist slammed upwards into Tony's left cheekbone.

“That's enough.” Tony held Candy's wrists together and Sheila handed him a pair of handcuffs.

Tony thanked her. “What are you doing out here?”

Sheila tipped her head to her car where a teenage boy sat in the passenger seat. “Alvin called. He was afraid his mom was headed for trouble.”

“I'd say he had good instincts.” Tony led Candy to his Blazer and put her in the backseat. The cage had a shield to prevent her spitting on him. He turned to watch Sheila load the boyfriend into her car. When she drove away, Tony followed. He left the Blazer and the trailer in the back lot and led Candy through the double set of doors into the jail intake area. Candy squawked and continually whined about her no good SOB boyfriend cheating on her. With his wife, of all the women in the world.

Sheila put the boyfriend in a chair and took Candy off his hands. “She'll sober up and stay through breakfast, then we'll cut her loose. Unless the boyfriend presses charges.”

“And Alvin?” Tony headed outside to retrieve the boy. “Should I leave him in the kitchen?”

“Could you make him a couple of sandwiches?” said Sheila. “This won't take me very long and then I'll take him to my folks.”

Tony thought he could use a snack too. He led Alvin to the kitchen and pulled an assortment of sandwich makings and cookies from the jail kitchen's well stocked refrigerator and cupboards. The jail cook, Daffodil Flowers Smith, kept a jar on the counter for either cash payments or vouchers to cover anything eaten by staff or guests. Staying away from the subject of his mother, Tony and Alvin made small talk about Alvin's desire to study botany, his makeshift greenhouse and the possibility of doing yard work for the Abernathy family. Tony dutifully obeyed Daffodil's rules.

Once Alvin was fed and drove away with Sheila, Tony took the trailer back to its spot. Parking it in the lot was trickier than he expected. After several attempts, he managed to get it lined up right and locked it up and went home. He passed Theo at the top of the stairs as he headed to bed and she went to soothe an unhappy infant.

Theo sat in the workroom with Susan. Together they continued trying to fill out the Smiths' insurance forms. It had to feel like a hopeless task. Poor Susan kept crying and saying, “I don't know. What do you think?”

Theo couldn't really offer more than sympathy. She knew she had sold a fair amount of fabric, thread, and quilt batting to the woman, but had no idea how much. Or how much Susan had used on various projects, or how much she might have purchased from other shops. Quilters—and Theo was certainly no better than her friends and customers—loved to visit every shop they come across. One of the popular books she sold in her shop was a listing of other shops. Driving down the interstate, she'd seen signs pointing to the exits and instructions on how to reach the quilt shop. A motel might not be listed, but the quilt shop was. Theo didn't think of herself as a fabulous businesswoman, but she was no dummy. She had ads in the book and her own little shop paid for a couple of signs.

Jane and Martha breezed into the shop chattering away. Theo couldn't imagine the two women could have anything left to talk about. The sisters spent about ten hours a day in each other's company and witnessed the same events.

“Oh, Susan, we're so sorry to hear about your house.” Martha settled onto a chair. “How can we help?”

Overcome, Susan just shook her head, chin quivering, and patted the little girl sleeping in her arms.

Jane whispered into the silence, “We could throw a fund-raiser out at the museum.”

Theo wasn't sure if she should be horrified or enthusiastic. Hairy Rags hadn't even been buried yet. “After your last big celebration?”

Martha clapped her hands. “It will be so much better this time. We won't have to invite those Elves or eat smelly vegetables.”

“Everyone should bring a covered dish, and Susan will get to keep the dish,” Jane babbled now, bouncing on her chair like a toddler. “And all the quilters can wrap theirs in fabric, and can't you just see it?”

Theo hated to throw cold water on their plans. The threat of another huge event strengthened her resolve. “Why don't you wait until the family is not living in a motel room? They really don't have any place to store anything.”

Tears welled in Jane's eyes. “I forgot.”

Tony decided he could give himself a couple of hours at the house. He might even get some writing done, but more likely he'd spend his time cleaning up the yard. Once inside, he still had his hand on the doorknob when Daisy trotted past him, plumed tail high. Something pink hung from the side of her mouth. Her tongue, was his first thought, but immediately realized it was fuzzy. He followed Daisy into the small parlor. That was normal, since she practically lived on the love seat. Instead of jumping onto it, she wriggled behind it until all he could see was haunch and tail.

“Daisy?” The tail thumped in response. “Come.” He patted his leg. The tail thumped faster. “Now.” She scooted backwards enough to turn her face to look at him. Sorrowful brown eyes in a big face met his.

He went to her and bent forward, looking into the corner behind the love seat. Wedged between the furniture and the wall was a sizeable pile of tiny socks, hats, T-shirts, and a soft toy. Not one of her toys. Daisy's nest. “Good dog.” He rubbed the dog's ears. “You've kept them all safe.” He reached in and gathered the missing items into his hand and pulled them toward him.

Daisy watched anxiously. A soft whine came from her chest.

“It's okay, girl.” He spoke softly, hoping to mitigate her distress. “Maybe you can keep this one.” He pushed the toy, a fuzzy yellow duck, back into the corner and carried the tiny clothes to the laundry. At least one mystery was solved. Theo would be relieved the socks had returned and he was thrilled the washing machine didn't need repairs, or replacement.

He glanced out the window and saw Gus amble back and forth across the yard. Tony thought his expression was more intense than usual. Genial and affable were the adjectives more likely to describe this brother. He went outside, joining Gus, wondering what the problem was.

Theo headed to the dump. She was off to visit Katti. Since learning of Katti's pregnancy, Theo was determined to help as much as she could. Katti had done so much for her family when she was pregnant, more than she was paid to do. Theo felt almost guilty.

Claude came out of the house when Theo turned into the driveway. He must have seen her pull off the road. With the flashy yellow paint job on her new SUV, a blind man could see her coming.

“That's some vehicle. Would you like to trade for my truck?” He gave her a big wink. “Either one, the dump truck or the Crown Vic.”

“Maybe the pink Cadillac?”

“I'm not the owner of the caddy.” Claude ambled toward the aromatic dump truck. “And since Katti loves the car and I'm sure she'd go wherever it went, I'll have to say no.” His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for Theo. “She's not been feeling too good, mostly in the mornings. Maybe you can help.”

Theo nodded, understanding. “It's different for everyone, but morning sickness usually passes in a few weeks.” She carried the girls into the house and looked into the living room for Katti. The mail-order bride was stretched out under a pink blanket. Not surprisingly, a long array of crocheted, antebellum girls sitting over rolls of toilet paper, rescued from the post-festival garbage, had found homes on a bookcase in the cramped space next to her.