Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (5 page)

She laughed. “I guess I’m immune.” She took a container from under the counter and sprinkled the contents over the butter. Pecans, he knew, and cinnamon sugar. But as for whatever else it was that made Angie’s rolls special—that was a secret she’d never divulge. His palate wasn’t sophisticated enough to discern the other subtle flavors, but he didn’t care. Bottom line—they were fantastic.

“So,” she said. “How much
can
you tell me about yesterday’s case? Off the record, of course.”

Since they’d started seeing each other, Angie had managed to draw a line between her love for gossip and keeping her mouth shut when it pertained to Gordon’s work. They’d come to an understanding that if he said something was off the record, then it was.

“It’s not a case,
per se
. Dog found a bone, and it turned out to be human. But it’s old. The deputy coroner said it’s from an adult. He estimated it’s been in the ground at least thirty years. I was digging through databases last night and came up empty, more or less.”

“More or less? That would mean not totally empty, right?”

He frowned. “Getting a list of cold cases with names of persons gone missing thirty years ago without any details doesn’t help. I didn’t find anything from around here. Until the forensics lab gives me more to go on, it’s a wild goose chase.”

“Yet you’re going to investigate. Because you’re—I was going to say like a terrier with a bone, but that might not be appropriate here. Because you’re… you.”

He exhaled. “It’s nagging at me. How did a human bone end up buried somewhere in Mapleton? I’m going to meet with the people who own the dogs that found the bone later this morning. Maybe they’ll be able to lead me to where the bone was found, so there’s a slim chance we’ll find others. If we have more to go on, we might be able to identify the person.”

“You don’t think you’ll find more bones?” Angie asked. “You don’t think someone buried a body out in the woods?”

“I don’t think anything.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got to be thinking about it. Wondering who the bone belonged to. If there are more.”

“Of course I’m thinking about it. But without facts, the possibilities are endless. And it’s usually better to go into any investigation with no preconceived hypotheses. Otherwise, you end up making the facts fit your theory instead of going where they lead you.”

“Makes sense when you put it that way.” Angie deftly rolled the dough into a fat log and sliced it into sections, which she laid out in a large pan.

They were smaller than the ones he was used to seeing. “Mini-rolls?”

Another smile. “No, they have to rise.” She covered them with a cloth and moved them to a rack. Her hips swayed as she walked. Damn if he wasn’t rising, too.

“More coffee.” He refilled his mug from the urn out front. When he came back, Angie was standing by a mixer that looked like a super-size version of one his mother had. She appeared lost in thought. He set the mug on the counter and nuzzled her neck. “Quarter for your thoughts?”

She flipped a switch and the machine whirred. “Nothing like that. Thinking about the bone. Trying to keep my senses open.”

Gordon rolled his eyes.

Angie hadn’t turned from the mixer. “And don’t think I don’t know you’re rolling your eyes, Chief. I can’t help it if I get these feelings.”

Angie’s
feelings
. She claimed to know that things were going to happen. It didn’t seem to bother her that she was wrong most of the time. Knowing Gordon’s skepticism, she rarely mentioned them in front of him.

“Not sure your—talents—are needed, since this is something that already happened.” Gordon kept his tone level.

Angie tapped a spatula against the counter. “Either way, I’m allowed to ponder the possibilities. Wondering if I might have heard something about it.”

“Thirty years ago, you were what, two? You wouldn’t remember stories of someone gone missing. And for all we know, it might have been fifty years ago. And even if we find more bones, that doesn’t mean the person died around here.”

“You mean, someone might have brought the body here from somewhere else? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Does if they wanted to get rid of it as far away from home as possible.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “That’s why there’s no point in thinking too much. Once an idea gets in your head, it’s hard to get rid of it.”

She shut off the motor, scraped down the sides of the bowl, and turned it on again. “My grandparents. They were here then. Maybe they’d know something.”

“Yeah. Interviewing the old-timers is on my list.” Thinking of that reminded him of Solomon and Crazy Freddy. He should add Fred to the list, although he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get anything coherent out of the man. And even if he did, would it be reliable?

A tap on the back door startled Gordon out of his thoughts. Angie looked at him, head tilted.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asked.

She glanced toward a clock mounted on the wall. “Not at this hour. Staff’s due to start showing up in about half an hour. Ozzie comes in early sometimes, but he has a key.” She wiped her hands on a towel tucked into the strings of her apron and started toward the door.

“Let me,” Gordon said, moving ahead of her.

“What, like you think someone’s going to knock on the door if they wanted to rob the place? Not to mention whoever it is will wonder what the heck you’re doing in my kitchen at five-thirty in the morning.”

He ignored her protests. “Let them think what they want. Maybe you heard a prowler, called the cops, and I showed up. I’m the Police Chief. I’m allowed to be anywhere any time I want.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a change of pace. What about you having to adhere to a higher moral standard because of your position?”

“My car’s been outside all night.” He’d thought about it when he’d come over. Which would be worse? Having someone recognize his car parked near Angie’s place, or in the parking lot behind Finnegan’s? Townspeople thinking he was having a liaison, or hanging in a bar? His estimate at the time had been that it would be an even split. Then again, maybe nobody gave a damn.

He put his eye to the peephole and stared at the distorted image of Ed Solomon.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Solomon said when Gordon opened the door. “Saw your unit and the lights on.”

“Nothing to interrupt,” Gordon muttered, hoping Solomon would keep his mouth shut.

Solomon nodded to Angie. “Morning.”

“Morning, Ed,” Angie said. “You want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. Not yet. Mind if I borrow the chief for a minute?”

Gordon set his coffee on the counter and trailed Solomon to the parking lot. The harsh lighting accentuated the weariness in the officer’s face. And the mud on his uniform. Gordon tried to shake off the
This can’t be good
feeling if Solomon had come directly to him. “What’s up?”

Solomon swiped his hand across his face. “I don’t know, Chief. It could be nothing. I didn’t want to write up my report until I talked to you.” Solomon leaned against his cruiser, as if he needed it for support.

Knots formed in Gordon’s stomach. “Talk.”

“It’s Crazy Freddy. I’m no shrink, so I can’t tell for sure.” He paused. Took off his hat. Swiped his sleeve across his forehead.

Gordon waited.

After a prolonged exhale, Solomon continued. “I mean, he hasn’t broken the law, so I couldn’t bring him in. But he seems crazier than usual.”

“Drunk?”

Solomon’s lips twitched. “As a skunk, but that’s always been the norm.”

“So what triggered the call in the first place?”

“Noise complaint. Gunfire. Chain saws. Mrs. Blanchard was afraid he was going to go at it into the wee hours. He’s done it before, she said. She’s got the hearing of a bat. I swear, she could hear a squirrel fart from a hundred yards.”

Crazy Freddy and a chain saw? Gordon had a fleeting image of a cross between Freddy Krueger from
Nightmare on Elm Street
and Leatherface from
Texas Chain Saw Massacre
. He shuddered and shook them off.

Solomon must have seen his reaction. “Relax, Chief. Nothing gory. Freddy was clearing land. Since he owns the property, there’s nothing illegal about it.”

“So why the problem? I trust you reminded him of the noise laws. And that you appeased Mrs. Blanchard.” Roberta Blanchard, Fred’s closest neighbor whined about everything. Although they both owned thirty-five acres, his house was situated relatively close to the property line between his place and hers. As was Mrs. Blanchard’s, so aside from stands of trees, their houses were within eyeshot—and earshot—of each other.

“I did. She said she was being proactive about exercising her rights to peace and quiet, and he said he’d make sure to keep an eye on the clock. I asked him what he was doing, cutting down so many trees. And that’s when it started going sideways.”

Chapter 6

“I need more coffee,” Gordon said. “Let’s take this inside. We can sit in a booth in the back. Angie’s the only one here, and she’ll leave us alone.”
Except maybe to bring us some food.

“You’re the Chief.”

Gordon rapped on the door. When Angie answered, he explained that he and Solomon would be having a quick conference.

She gave a solemn nod. “No problem. Coffee? And a cinnamon roll?”

“You need to ask?” Gordon said.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Solomon added.

Seated at the last booth in the corner of the diner, both men took a moment to savor the fresh-from-the oven cinnamon rolls Angie had set in front of them. Solomon licked the still-warm icing from his fingers. “Damn, these are good. Perfect way to end a shift. Although my wife will still expect me to make Sunday morning bacon and pancakes for her and the kids before church.”

Gordon pictured his officer wielding a spatula, flipping golden pancakes while his family gathered around the table. He thought of Angie, baking cinnamon rolls. A hollowness opened in his chest. He sipped his coffee. “So, tell me what the problem is.”

“I’m not sure it’s a problem. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before I put anything in writing.” Solomon pushed his plate aside and centered his coffee mug in front of him. “Freddy was his usual incoherent self, rambling on and on. This time, he kept talking about people wanting to steal his treasure. Or they’d already stolen it. He said that the trees were in the way, but I couldn’t get him to say of what. And how he needed sunlight.” Solomon lowered his voice. “There were a bunch of places where he’d been digging. And it looked like he’d used explosives on some of the tree trunks, which would match what Mrs. Blanchard thought were gunshots.”

“So, you think he’s putting in a garden?”

Solomon grimaced. “I can’t see Freddy raising tomatoes.”

“Ah. You think he’s going to start growing weed.”

Solomon almost choked on his coffee. “Freddy? Too much work. I can see him building a still if he’s looking to feed his habit.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…” Solomon rearranged the silverware. “I mean, what if those holes he’s been digging are related to the bone we found? Fred’s a hunter. If he can butcher a deer or an elk, why not a human?”

“
Crazy Freddy?
You think he’s got skeletons buried on his property? That he’s murdered people?” Gordon rubbed his eyes. “I can’t buy him as a killer. I don’t think he’s got enough unpickled brain cells to manage something like that.”

“Hey, it was a thought. You know. Consider all the possibilities.”

Gordon thought about the logistics. Although Freddy’s property wasn’t near the Shores’, Kretzers’, or Webbers’, he lived
up
the mountain. Over time, erosion moved things
down
. “I’d need to look at a topo map. I’m too used to thinking in terms of roads, not crows.”

Solomon wiped his mouth and leaned back. “Thanks, Chief. I suppose I was seeing zebras, not horses. You need me for anything else?”

“Nope. File your report and go home.”

“Will do, Chief. I’m off until Tuesday, but if you get any leads or information on the bone, I wouldn’t mind a call.”

“Agreed. Good work, Solomon. Now, get some sleep. I’ll follow up,” Gordon said. “Enjoy your time with your family.”

Solomon’s lips curved upward. He tapped the brim of his cap. “Yes, Sir.” He strode out the door.

When the door shut behind Solomon, that hollow feeling in Gordon’s chest returned. He went into the kitchen and snaked his arms around Angie’s waist. She turned and smiled up at him. The feeling in his chest wasn’t hollow anymore.

“You and Solomon have a nice visit?” she asked. He heard the underlying question.
Anything you can share?

“He wanted to run a few things by me before he filed his report.”

“Something about the bone?”

“No, a call out from earlier.” He tapped his chest, where his badge sat if he was in uniform. “You know me—I’m the all-powerful Chief. Nobody makes a move without checking with me first.”

“Yeah, right.” She turned into him, pulled him against her, wriggling her hips. “Do I need to check in before I make my next move?”

Gordon cradled her head. He brushed his lips across hers. “What move did you have in mind?”

She showed him in elaborate detail with lips and hips. Slowly, she pulled away. “Ozzie will be here any minute. And my cinnamon rolls need to be iced.”

Gordon thought he might need to be iced, too, but not with Angie’s sugar topping. “And I have work to do.”

“On Sunday?”

“Sometimes it’s not all that great being the Chief.” He captured her lips for one more kiss before heading for the door. “I should be done by three.”

* * * * *

In his office, Gordon settled into the relative quiet of a Sunday morning in Mapleton. Sipping coffee, he studied the topographical map of the area he’d laid out on his desk. With the terrain reduced to concentric loops of various shapes and sizes, he had a new perspective.

After comparing the topo to the regular map of the area, he located and marked Fred’s property. Next, he found the Kretzers’ place. Lastly, he noted the Shores’ home and the spot where Sandy had found Artie burying the bone. With a forefinger, Gordon traced the lines around Fred’s land, the ones between it and the others. He shook his head. Fred didn’t live at the highest point, although his property was higher than the Kretzers’. Could something from Freddy’s place have ended up in either of the other spots without being picked up and carried, either by human or critters? Not likely, although nothing was impossible. Water and mud went downhill, but not in a straight line. And after a major fire fifteen years ago, mudslides had been a problem.