Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight (25 page)

“Okay, so why’s he still spying on the house from a distance? He’s established his reason for being there and his reason for leaving. Why stay?” Wade shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“He wants the plants.” Tony glanced at the white board. “People are coming and going from the convenience store until after dark and on to midnight. If he trots up there with a flashlight, one of the neighbors will see.”

“True,” Tony agreed. “So what’s he going to do? He plays innocent, and when he sees that it’s safe, he can walk down from the road without anyone seeing him. Then maybe he slips and slides a bit on the ridge, but digging deep enough to grab the plants is quick work. Walk back the way he came until he’s out of sight of the neighbors, slip over to the highway, and walk the rest of the way to his car.”

“That works,” Wade said. “Mostly.”

Tony thought the scenario had possibilities, but it didn’t make him want to jump up and yell, “That’s it.”

“I’m not sure if this is good news or bad news, Tony.” The voice on the phone belonged to Vince of the TBI. “We’ve gotten the preliminary information back and so far, nothing links your wrench wielder and your female victim.”

Tony wasn’t sure if the news pleased him or not. “What
have
you learned?”

“There were any number of substances on your wrench, mostly around the adjusting screw, and they transferred to the injury sites. Oil, grease, soil, paint, and that’s just for starters. And, of course, some of the victim’s blood transferred onto the tools.” Vince growled like a bear. “We did find blood from the guy Sheila calls Not Bob on the shirt belonging to the hitchhiker someone clobbered later on. Definitely transfer.”

Tony considered the possible implications. “And the Tibbles woman’s injury?”

“Clean.” The sound of computer keys provided background sound for a moment. “She had soil in her hair, not imbedded in the wound. What you might expect if you fell onto a pile of dirt. There’s no connection between the tools, but it could be as simple as the attacker using whatever is available.”

“Back to square one.” Tony mumbled.

“Not necessarily. At least, if you find a dirty wrench and your attacker hasn’t developed a miracle cleaner, we should be able to match the substances. Right down to matching the blood. It would be a slam dunk, evidence-wise.”

“And the other weapon?” Tony thought he knew the answer.

“Probably not, but we could try.” Vince used his professional voice. “It does not appear, at this time, to possess any unique qualities. However, just because it didn’t transfer much onto your victim, that doesn’t mean she didn’t transfer conclusive evidence onto it.”

“In other words, we need to find the right weapon.”

Theo stood in the kitchen, staring at their backyard. The boys and Daisy were tearing through the grass but avoiding the new garden patch. That might have had something to do with the new wire mesh fence surrounding it. She felt concern and affection for their teenaged gardener. “Do you think Alvin is going to be okay? I heard he decided to come back from camp today, and I told Martha she should bring him along for dinner. I guess he didn’t feel up to dealing with all of us.”

“He’s a strong young man. Thankfully. Between Martha, Mom, and Sheila’s mother, he’ll crave the day he can get away from all the surrogate mothers in his world. I just hope they don’t drive him crazy.”

“Aren’t you including me in your wish list?” Theo teased. “You, of all people, should know I have a gift for nagging.”

Tony kept his mouth carefully closed.

Theo kept smiling. There was nothing else she could do. Winifred Thornby from the newspaper was taking pictures and asking questions at the same time. A few of the questions had nothing to do with her shop and it being featured in a national quilting magazine, and everything to do with her husband’s investigation.

Sometimes Theo felt like the referee. Tony and Winifred did not have a good relationship.

Thinking what an understatement this was made Theo’s smile widen. Tony and Winifred didn’t just have a strained relation-ship—they destested each other. Luckily, Winifred took a photograph that satisfied her before Theo dissolved into hysterics.

Winifred put her camera in the bag and stared at Theo. “That worthless husband of yours had better catch the attacker with the wrench, and what else, a hammer? If he’d spend more time doing police work and less time eating pie, our county would be a safer place to live. Two victims, no, three with Candy, and maybe more to come. How can you tolerate it, living with someone that lazy?”

So much for the good mood. Theo couldn’t address Tony’s investigation. “You might want to talk to some of the quilters working on the charity quilts.” Theo tried to move Winifred closer to the frame surrounded by women working on the current quilt. “It would make an interesting story.”

Tenacious and single-minded, Winifred didn’t budge. “I’ll assume your refusal to discuss the matter as agreement with my assessment.”

“No.” Theo shook her head for emphasis and felt her curls bounce. “I do not agree with you. He’s working hard, but I do not have specific information to give you.”

Winifred’s eyebrows flew up in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Are you implying he is withholding information?”

Theo couldn’t respond. Or, at least, she managed not to.

“Haven’t you heard of freedom of the press?” Winifred moved closer, stalking her.

Theo pretended to hear a baby cry and trotted up the stairs. She locked her office door behind her.

“Where did Candy get her drugs?” Tony stood in front of the day shift. Roll call was over, and they were going over a list of situations needing attention in the county.

“We’ve got several possible dealers on our radar.” Wade stood. “I suggest we talk to Quentin Mize. He’s clean now, but he and Candy hung out together when he was deeply into drugs.”

Sheila agreed. “I imagine he still knows how to find them if he wants them.”

“Oh, good, Quentin as a confidential informant.” Tony thought it would be like asking a feral dog to guide them to a meat market. The last thing he wanted was for Quentin to fall back into drugs.

“If not to tend Alvin’s garden, why would Candy have been in the garden or greenhouse area? The way everyone has described her to me, I doubt she developed a sudden determination to raise prize-winning roses.” Tony studied their chart. “What’s there for her in the daylight?”

“Sir.” Sheila leaned forward. “Do we know it was daylight when she went out there? Maybe she went out in the dark.”

Tony lifted the extensive report from the pathologist. “According to the experts, she became overheated while she was unconscious. They seem to consider it unlikely she would have regained enough consciousness to at least squirm around in the cooler night air. All indications suggest she lay motionless where she landed. No heel marks in the dirt.”

“So she and her companion did not pull back the tarps to watch the moon rise?”

“Well, maybe.” Tony considered it. “I guess they could have pulled the tarps away and spent time in the greenhouse. Maybe she came back later, when it was hot, and they got into an argument. She died where she landed.” He discarded the jumbled idea. “I’m just connecting people and places. Her being hit in the dark doesn’t work.”

“What about J.B.? He knows everything that happens in Park County after dark,” Sheila suggested. “Did he see anything unusual the night before? You know, like a car where it shouldn’t be or a person sneaking through a yard?”

“Nothing in his report. I’ll talk to him. There’s always a possibility that there’s a regular visitor to the house after midnight who wouldn’t be classified as unusual.” Tony said, “Sheila, I want you to check with your contacts in the schools. Who’s dealing what?”

“I know a couple of kids who might be able to supply a few names, if I can promise to keep them anonymous.” Sheila jotted herself a note, then met his eyes. Waiting.

“Forgive a past deed, but not a future one.” Tony hated drugs. “I don’t want you handing out any get-out-of-jail-free cards.”

It didn’t take Tony long to locate Quentin. A quick call to his brother Gus produced the address where he had sent Quentin and Roscoe to build a mower shed. It was a simple enough job that even the two friends could complete it without much supervision from Gus.

Tall, thin, and a bit twitchy, Quentin ambled toward Tony’s vehicle with a wide grin on his face. “Howdy, Sheriff.”

“You’re just who I was looking for,” Tony said. “Have you got a few minutes to talk?”

Quentin glanced at Roscoe.

The smaller of the two men was the brains of the operation. “Sure.” Roscoe flipped his hammer into the air and nimbly caught it. “Take your time. I’ll call Veronica.”

“He’s crazy about the professor.” Quentin lowered his voice as though he were telling a secret he was supposed to keep. “Once they find a place to live, I’m thinkin’ they’ll get hitched.”

“More surprising things have happened.” Tony herded Quentin away from his friend. “I need your help.”

Quentin’s jaw dropped. “No kidding? That’s great.”

“I know you’ve been doing well, working hard, staying away from drugs.” Tony watched Quentin’s head bob with every word.

“I’m proud of you.”

The gangly man blushed. “Thank you.”

“What I need to ask is if you know who might have been dealing drugs to Candy Tibbles?”

Eyes wide, Quentin’s head moved from side to side. “No. I’ve got no idea. It’s been a while since I bought any, you know. Sorry.”

Tony was surprised at how relieved he was to hear Quentin’s words. “I’m not. I’m glad you’ve gotten this far away from all those poisons.”

Quentin glanced in Roscoe’s direction. “Couldn’t do it without friends.”

When Tony and Wade went looking for the night patrol, they discovered that as was his custom, Deputy J.B. Lewis had left the building as soon as he turned in his reports. The deputy loved the night shift, wrote decent notes, and didn’t gossip about anything or anyone he witnessed.

Tony and Wade caught up with him in the grocery store parking lot. Tony said, “I read your reports. Is there anything you saw you thought was maybe wrong but nothing you’d put on paper?”

“Clandestine or suspicious activity?” The creases around J.B.’s eyes deepened as he grinned. “Sure, Sheriff. I’m pretty up to date on who is cheating and with whom. Who are you interested in?”

“Candy Tibbles,” Tony said. “Maybe in the past few weeks.”

“Pitiful woman.” J.B. shook his head in obvious sorrow. “Such a lost soul. I’ve seen her with so many men.” He paused, studied the sky. “Well, there is a guy, Sinclair, who drives a mid-aged dark blue Toyota. I’ve seen it parked pretty often in Candy’s driveway late at night.” J.B. shook his head again. “They might have been friends or he might have been selling her something. I don’t know. I’ve seen the same car over at Kwik Kirk’s. It’s right across the highway, so why not walk over from Candy’s house?”

“Anything else? Not necessarily related to Candy.”

J.B. rubbed his forehead. “I’ve seen several guys coming out of The Spa with women who were not their wives, and women with men who were not their husbands. Bad behavior on both sides. You want the names?”

“Yes. Make me a list. Sounds like it will be a long one.” Tony didn’t really want to know as much about the county residents as he sometimes learned. There were times his knowledge made it difficult to deal with them on unofficial business. Chatting over coffee at church with a cheating husband or wife stretched his meager diplomatic abilities.

“Sheriff, I have a report of a fight.” Flavio paused for a moment, then continued. “Mayor Cashdollar requests—his words not mine—you come to the funeral home. As soon as possible. Or faster.”

“The fight’s at the funeral home?” Tony hoped he’d misunderstood.

Flavio’s voice was muffled, sounding like he was stifling a laugh. “Yes, sir. I gather it has something to do with the viewing for Hydrangea Jackson.”

“I’m on my way.” Tony walked toward the Blazer. “Notify Wade to meet me there. He’ll never forgive me if he doesn’t get to come along.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself. From what I could hear in the background, it must be quite a show,” Flavio murmured as he disconnected.

As soon as Tony and Wade walked through the front doors of the Cashdollar Mortuary, they were hit with the sounds of piano music and hymns being sung with enthusiasm, if not talent. Over all of the musical sounds, Tony could hear agitated, high-pitched voices and one distinctive male voice. It belonged to Mayor Calvin Cashdollar.

“Ladies, please.” Tony thought Calvin was begging. “Please, don’t do that.”

When he and Wade entered the visitation room, Tony was grateful he was considerably taller than most of the mourners. The room was packed, and no one was moving to let him pass. Over the heads of a cluster of weeping women, Tony was able to see the two most elderly Flowers sisters leaning over their sister’s coffin. One was scrubbing on the corpse’s eyelids with a tissue, spitting on it, and returning to the task. “Sister never wore lavender eye shadow a day in her life. What was Calvin thinking?” Her strident voice cut through the chatter.