Hidden Fire, Kobo (5 page)

"I'm going to grab a shower before
the morning shift gets here," Randy said. "Doc's cutting at eight and
I can see if the county CSI team has any results."

Kovak rubbed his eyes and took another
sip of coffee. He grimaced and shoved the mug across the desk. "Eventually,
even the good stuff turns on you. But thanks for getting me through the night."

"If you're smart, you'll hide the
rest of the bag, or it'll disappear."

"I'd put it in my locker, but it
would probably end up tasting like old socks. I think this is one treat that's
going home with me." He crossed to the printer and picked up a stack of
paper. "I'm hoping ViCAP has something with the knife pattern. Meanwhile,
I'll finish these reports."

"Can you handle the incoming calls?
Half the town's likely to think our John Doe is their missing Uncle Edgar or
swear they saw the killer skulking around in the bushes."

Kovak nodded. "No lead too small. No
citizen too nuts." He scratched his fingers over his scalp. "And I'll
follow up on last night's door-knocking with county."

"Good luck," Randy said. "I'll
see what the county lab's got as long as I'm going to be over there for the
autopsy."

"Sometimes that's what it takes. You
want to grab a bite at Sadie's before you head for the morgue?"

Randy realized Kovak hadn't been working
with the reserves of a substantial dinner from Rob's the way he had. His
partner hadn't complained about the vending machine fare, which was unusual.
Then again, this case was a heck of a lot more than their normal Pine Hills
petty theft, traffic violations and the occasional breaking and entering.

He hesitated. Sarah often stopped at
Sadie's for a morning cup of coffee, but not this early. Besides, he didn't
need the distraction. "I'm fine. But you go on. Maybe we'll meet for
lunch, assuming I have any appetite after an autopsy."

Given the early hour, traffic on the
interstate was light and Randy arrived at the morgue by seven-thirty. He wound
his way down the stairs and through the dimly lit corridors to Charlotte's
office where he tapped on the wired glass pane in the door and let himself in.
She sat back in her chair, her legs crossed at the ankle on her desk, reading
the newspaper.

He stood half a step inside the doorway. "Morning,
Doc."

A tiny nod acknowledged his presence, but
her eyes remained on the paper. He waited until she finished, folded it neatly,
placed it in the wastebasket and smiled at him over black half-rimmed reading
glasses. "Don't know why I bother, but I can't break the habit. Nothing
but half-truths and lies."

"Comics are usually entertaining,"
he said.

One corner of her mouth turned up. "Park
it, Detweiler." She inched her head toward a wooden chair. "I've got
a report to finish. Coffee?"

The thought of more caffeine in his
system and acid in his belly turned his stomach. The aroma would mask the odor
in the lab, but Charlotte would never let him bring anything inside. "No,
thanks. Shall I gown up?" She was persnickety about any possible
contamination of samples, but her findings were gospel in court.

Another nearly imperceptible nod.

"Meet you in the lab, then."
She grunted and he left her to her computer.

At precisely seven fifty-seven, Charlotte
approached the lab where Randy, wearing yellow disposable coverings, leaned
against the wall by the door.

"How much sleep did you get last
night, Detweiler?"

He straightened and shook the cobwebs
from his brain. "I remember going to bed Tuesday night in 'Frisco. What
day is it now?"

Her glare was almost motherly. "Thursday."

He shrugged. "Then let's get going
so I can go home." She unlocked the door and he followed her inside, his
nostrils flaring at the odor. He dragged a tall stool to a point well away from
the table where last night's body lay.

"You small-town boys don't see much
of this, do you?" Charlotte asked, apparently noting his discomfiture.

Although he'd cooperated with the county
sheriffs countless times, and in the course of joint investigations had been to
a number of autopsies, being lead on a homicide put things in a different
perspective. He lowered himself from his perch and stepped closer. "Once
is too often."

She cocked her head at him, then gave him
an understanding smile. "You're right. It would be nice if we never had to
deal with death like this." She adjusted the microphone hanging above the
table. "But as long as we have to, it's our job to listen to the victims."

"Nobody hears them like you, Doc."
He swore a faint pink tinged her cheeks.

"Well, our man's being too quiet. I
had my guys run the films last night. According to their reports, no broken
bones, no steel plates, screws or anything helpful for identification. Time for
a closer look."

"Let me get a shot of this, and get
a copy to you." Charlotte took a picture of the victim's abdominal wounds
before she brought her scalpel to the body's torso, making a standard Y
incision. Randy concentrated on her matter-of-fact voice recording her
findings. Like a good news anchor, he thought, keeping his report impartial.
Even though he knew he'd get a full account, he busied himself taking notes,
trying not to look at the body.

Charlotte's voice lifted, no longer
expressionless. "I think you might want to look at this," she said.

* * * * *

Sarah yawned as she toasted a bagel for
breakfast. She wondered if Randy was still working. The morning news on
television offered nothing other than what she'd seen with Maggie the night
before. A dead body, male, as yet unidentified, had been found in the vacant
acreage on the outskirts of town. Teenaged boys had found the body and seemed
to be enjoying their celebrity status but had nothing helpful to say.

She yawned again. Her recent nights hadn't
been as peaceful as she'd led Maggie to believe. Nightmares rarely plagued her
when she was with Randy. She hated to admit they'd returned while he'd been
away, a sign of weakness she refused to accept. She would
not
be
dependent on anyone. She finished dressing for work and took the back stairs to
the parking area behind the building. As she approached her gray Honda Element,
her turmoil continued. Randy had been the one responsible for proving David had
been murdered, releasing life insurance money so she could afford a car again.

God, what was wrong with her? Last night,
she'd ached to be with Randy. If his boss hadn't called, they'd probably be
having a second cup of coffee—or a morning quickie.

She climbed into the boxy vehicle and
twisted the key in the ignition. "Come on, Heffalump. Let's get to work."
Being at her boutique smoothed all the rough edges. She'd be alone until one o'clock
today and she looked forward to arriving early, rearranging some displays,
being in charge.

Her mood lifted as she drove through the
business district, rising higher when she turned down the side street where
That Special Something sat in the middle of the block, nestled among other
small shops. With about an hour before she opened, she could pimp her window
and make room for the pottery she expected today.

She decided to go all the way with the
fall theme, mixing and matching merchandise, using color as the underlying
motif to tie everything together. Everything from delicate crystal to rugged
stoneware. She propped the sign she had made announcing the Saturday debut of
her new pottery into the arms of a stuffed scarecrow sitting on a low wooden
chair. An eclectic mix, but overall, she thought it worked. She unlocked the
front door and checked the composition of the window display from the street.
Perfect. On her way back inside, she flipped the door sign to "Open."

Customers buzzed in and out all morning,
primarily to see what Sarah knew about the body, but most were too embarrassed
to admit it, so they bought. Sarah took their money with a smile. When the UPS
man showed up without Hugh's pottery, Sarah did a quick fume. As soon as
Jennifer came in, Sarah went to the back room to call him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Garrigue is away. I'm
Gloria, his associate. May I help you?" the woman who answered said.

Sarah asked where her shipment was and
irritation that had built over the morning bled through in her tone.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tucker. I'm only in
the studio part-time, and I hadn't checked my email until moments ago. Mr.
Garrigue was called away on a family emergency. I don't see your shipment here,
but Mr. Garrigue normally handles shipping for these promotions personally. I'll
be happy to check into it."

Chagrined, Sarah apologized for being
short. "I understand. Do you know how long he'll be gone? Is there
anything I can do? I've already advertised it for a Saturday opening."

"No. It's not like him to leave in a
rush, but family is family, you know."

Sarah thanked her again and hung up. Out
front, things were relatively quiet and she motioned to her assistant. "Jennifer.
Hugh's pottery will be delayed. Any ideas to fill in the gaps?"

Jennifer turned in a tight circle,
surveying the store. "I like the fall theme," she said. "What
about miniature hay bales, plenty of harvest stuff, maybe some little
scarecrows to play up the one in the window?"

"Sounds like a plan. I think most of
the customers today are more interested in grilling me about the dead guy than
admiring the displays. I'll work on it after we close."

"You want me to stay? I don't have
any classes tomorrow and this will be fun. After all those art history
textbooks, I could use a creative outlet." She dashed over to a table of
carved wooden vegetables, her dark curls bobbing as she moved. "Less is
more, don't you think? If it looks like there are only a few of these things,
customers will think they're getting something extra special."

Sarah cocked her eyebrows and grinned at
her assistant. "Well, the shop
is
called That Special Something,
after all."

"You know I didn't mean it like
that," Jennifer said. "But instead of all the carved vegetables on
one table, maybe split them up into smaller bowls? Set out on different tables?"
She darted over to the spiral staircase Sarah used as a display rack and lifted
a carved teak tray. "Like in this? And that way, you don't have to set
aside a big area for Hugh's pottery. You can put them here and there whenever
they arrive."

Sarah agreed. Nothing wrong with keeping
the customers moving through the store.

"So, should I stay?" Jennifer
paused, her eyes widening. "Off the clock, of course."

"Twist my arm a little harder,
Jennifer." Sarah laughed. "I'm happy for your help. I've got some
things in the storeroom that should work."

The door chimes jingled. "Go,"
Jennifer said. "You can dig through the back room and I'll tell everyone
you're busy consulting with the police."

"Stop that." Sarah poked
Jennifer's arm. "I've got my 'How should I know?' speech down pat."
She looked more closely at the woman entering the shop. "Wait. That's
Janie Kovak. Her husband works with Randy. Heck,
she
might actually know
something."

Janie smiled at Sarah and strolled across
the shop, pausing at a display of dinnerware. "I love these placemats,"
she said. "I don't remember seeing them before."

"They came in about a month ago, but
you know me. Always moving things around."

"Don't be so sweet, Sarah. I haven't
been in here in far too long. A lot longer than a month."

Sarah waited. Janie fingered the matching
napkins, then discreetly peeked under a corner.

"They're twelve dollars each,"
Sarah said. "The placemats are thirty. They're hand-dyed batik, hand-quilted
and no two are exactly alike." When a flush crept over Janie's cheeks and
she ran her fingers wistfully over the placemat, Sarah lowered her voice. "If
you want the placemats and the napkins, I can give you a better price for the
set."

Sarah wondered if money was the issue or
if there were other problems. She tried to read Janie's face, but she didn't
know her that well, and aside from the blush, her facial nuances were
indecipherable.

Janie took a slow breath in, then
released it with a sigh. "We'd hoped to sneak away for our anniversary,
but plans have a way of changing."

"Yeah. This murder must have thrown
a monkey wrench into your life."

"Oh, no—I mean, of course there's
always the possibility schedules will change, but the cops usually cover for
each other if someone has plans. This glitch was something entirely different."
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's going to have to be
dinner at home and when I saw this setting, I thought maybe something new for
the table might make it an occasion."

The door chimed again and Sarah caught
Jennifer's quick nod that she had everything covered with the new customers.

"When's the big day?" Sarah
asked, trying to turn the subject into something Janie might find more
pleasant.