Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (7 page)

On the other hand, the only reason Asel was sitting in Rose’s living room was because he’d identified several more bones as human. Rose, of course, had insisted he make time for a nosh while he explained their findings. She hadn’t had to twist his arm. On either front.

Asel’s enthusiasm had been evident as he’d described how he’d identified the first bone as human, and how the ones they’d found today seemed to match. Heck, Gordon was starting to like the man. He’d sounded excited when Gordon had called, and had shown up in record time. They’d excavated the area, carefully extracting the bones. A cursory search of the surrounding area hadn’t revealed anything, but short of digging up acres of woodland, there was no way of knowing whether there were more bones.

Gordon watched Asel spoon a generous dollop of whipped cream from a cut-crystal bowl into his coffee cup.
Kaffee mit Schlag,
Rose called it. Although he normally took his coffee black, Rose had convinced him to make the exception. It made her happy, and to tell the truth, he enjoyed the way the decadently rich, thick cream melted into Rose’s aromatic brew.

“So,” Rose said. “What you are telling me is someone buried bones in our yard? How could this be?” She stared at the empty spot on the couch beside her. “Sam should be here to hear this. But nothing stops his pinochle game on Sundays.”

Reluctantly, Gordon shifted his thoughts from whipped cream and pastries, and men playing cards, to the newly discovered bones. “We can’t say for certain they’re inside your property line. I’m going to have to get the official surveys. But we’re going to be investigating. For starters, how long have you and Sam lived in this house?”

“Since 1959,” Rose said. “Newlyweds, almost, when we came to Mapleton. We never knew about any bones.”

Asel wolfed down a finger sandwich and raised his hand. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “I don’t think the bones have been in the yard that long. Thirty, forty years, but that’s only a guess right now.”

Rose’s eyes popped open. “You mean someone buried them while we were living here?”

“They’re not close to the house, Rose. Easy enough for someone to sneak in at night—maybe while you weren’t home to notice. We’re not even positive they’re on your property.”

“Still, I don’t like it. Megan—she used to play in the woods with her friends. Like little pirates, even. Digging for treasure.
Mein Gott.
They might have stumbled across a graveyard.”

“Where is Megan?” Gordon asked. “I’d like to talk to her, too.”

“She and Justin went for a run around the lake,” Rose said. “They said they had some catching up to do.” Her eyes twinkled. “They do seem to be getting along now—much better than when they were children.”

“Who are Megan and Justin?” Asel asked.

“Justin is our grandson.” Rose beamed with pride. “He lives in Washington state and works at a school where he helps keep teens out of trouble. He got a big promotion and is in charge of new curriculum. And Megan is our ward. We raised her from the age of five, when her parents died. She lives in San Diego. She’s a big meeting planner. Travels all over the place. But if the bones have been there thirty years, that was before Megan came to live with us. You can’t possibly think either of them is involved.”

Gordon shook his head. “No, of course not. But I still need to talk to them.”

Asel stood. “Mrs. Kretzer, thank you for your hospitality, but I have to go. I need to get the bones we found to the lab.”

Rose popped up. “Let me fix you a plate.” She bustled into the kitchen.

“I’ve had plenty,” Asel said, but there was no protest in his tone.

Gordon smiled at Asel. “She’s happiest when she’s feeding people.”

“And I’m happy when people feed me.” He patted his belly. “No secret there.”

Rose returned with a foil-wrapped plate, extending it to Asel. “It was nice meeting you. You will tell us if you learn anything, yes?”

“I will,” Asel said.

Gordon walked Asel to his van. “Let me know as soon as you get any results. Even knowing the gender would narrow my search.”

“Kind of a Catch-22,” Asel said. “Unless we have a reason to suspect homicide, determining identity is low priority. But until we have an idea of who the deceased was, we have nothing to push it higher up the queue.”

“I’ll see if I can get a cadaver dog out here. How confident are you that the bones belong to the same body?”

“They’re clearly a radius and ulna. Lower arm bones. And the little ones we found are bones from the hand.”

“Yeah. So what we have is an arm. One arm. Odds are all the bones came from the same person.”

Asel opened the passenger door of the van and set the plate onto the seat. “Agreed.”

“You know what twists my gut?”

Asel’s chin bobbed. “I think so. That there might be other body parts scattered all over the place. That we have a killer who dismembered his victim.”

“There have to be other more… innocent… possibilities.”

“There are
always
possibilities. But that’s your job.”

“See how fast you can do yours, so I can start doing more with mine,” Gordon said.

Asel walked around the van and hoisted himself inside. Gordon watched him drive away. Chills rippled down his spine as he thought about someone burying body parts all over the Kretzers’ woods—or all over Mapleton.

As Gordon pondered the repercussions of doing a full-blown search for buried bones, he noticed two figures walking toward the house. Hand in hand. They’d look at each other, laugh, then look away. Then look again, laugh again. Soon, they were close enough to recognize. Megan and Justin. Rose had them pegged.

He went inside to wait, even though they certainly didn’t seem concerned about anyone noticing their obvious affection. Maybe he was the one who’d rather not deal with it. Could he see himself walking down a public street holding hands with Angie? When he couldn’t, he tried to decide if it was because he had this image of himself as Chief of Police, an official who had to remain above human emotions? Or was it because he’d never been comfortable showing any affection in public, long before he’d become a cop? His parents certainly hadn’t. Or was it because he wasn’t sure if he felt that deeply about Angie?

He shoved all those questions aside. Right now, he had more important ones to deal with.

Rose had cleared Asel’s dishes, but left the food on the coffee table. Gordon eyed a plate of cookies, but his appetite had disappeared, due only in part to Rose’s insistence that he
ess, ess.
He did, however, accept a refill on his coffee.
Mit Schlag.
When the garage door ground open, Rose jumped up and scurried toward the kitchen. “That will be Sam. He has to hear about these bones. I still cannot believe it. Bones, buried in the woods. And a coroner, sitting in my living room.”

Not a typical Sunday for Rose, Gordon thought. He vowed to clear this up as quickly as possible. No reason to bring the shadows of crime into their sunny household.

Sam entered the room, Rose at his heels. Sam settled onto the couch and accepted a cup of coffee. “Rose tells me you found human remains. But you don’t know whose they might be.”

Gordon nodded. “Do either of you remember any stories, rumors, anything about someone gone missing years ago?”

Rose and Sam exchanged a look. Sam shook his head. “You mean under unusual circumstances? People leave town all the time. Or they die. Perfectly normal.”

“
Ach
, but we wouldn’t know if someone said they were leaving and then they were gone—if they ever got to where they were going,” Rose said. “Like Benny and Zannah. They were going to retire to Miami Beach. They go, but poof! Not a phone call, not a post card. Like they dropped off the face of the earth.”

Sam snorted. “You never said two words to either of them while they lived here. Why would they start communicating with you after they left?”

Gordon pulled out his notebook. “Give me their names, I’ll look into it.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? You think someone killed Benny and Zannah?”

Gordon stifled a laugh. “I doubt it. Right now, I’m in the information-collecting phase of the investigation. Even the most far-fetched ideas have to be checked out.”

“If you find them, tell them hello,” Rose said.

“Rose,” Sam said.

“What?” Rose huffed. “Because they leave and never say a word, I can’t be the bigger person?”

The front door opened, and Megan and Justin walked in. Not holding hands, Gordon noted. Megan’s hair was damp, and Justin’s shirt had triangles of wetness at the neck and armpits, which fit with Rose’s claim they’d gone for a run. As they passed, Gordon noticed twigs and leaves clinging to the back of Justin’s shirt, and Megan’s curls sported a few more. Maybe they’d been getting their exercise in another manner. He forced back the grin threatening to erupt.

None of your business.

“Have a nice run?” Sam asked.

Did Gordon detect a hint of a flush on Megan’s cheeks? Not unexpected after a run around the lake, but—.

“Justin took it easy on me,” Megan’s eyes met Gordon’s. “Hi, Gordon. What brings you over here on a Sunday?”

He heard the unspoken question.
Why aren’t you with Angie? She’s off after the breakfast rush on Sundays.

He would be. Later. She’d said she’d wait. But he didn’t need to share that with Megan.

“Gordon wants to talk to you both,” Rose said. “Come down after you clean up.”

While Megan and Justin went upstairs, Gordon continued his questions. Rose was more than willing to talk, giving him name after name of people she’d known who were no longer living in Mapleton. Or whose children—or grandchildren, nephews or nieces—were no longer living in Mapleton. Dutifully, he wrote them in his notebook.

Megan trotted downstairs and joined them, snagging a cookie before lowering herself to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, she tilted her head at Gordon. “So, what’s up?”

“There are bones in the woods,” Rose said before Gordon could speak. “From a human being.”

Megan stopped, cookie halfway to her mouth. “What?” She looked at Gordon, as if to say
tell me Rose is kidding.

“It’s true,” Gordon said. “Only a few bones, and all we know is that they’re human.”

“You have no idea whose they are?” Megan looked at Rose and Sam. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We only found out this minute,” Sam said. “Gordon is hoping you might know something.”

“About buried bones?” She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. “No way.”

“Rose said you used to play pirates out there,” Gordon said. “Searching for buried treasure.”

“Sure, but I never saw any bones.” She gave a quiet laugh. “Best we ever found were old bottles. And they weren’t buried, really. Just covered with leaves and stuff. We pretended they were bottles of rum, like in the song.” Her smile widened. “But we never found the treasure chest that was supposed to go with them.”

“What about the ghost?” Justin’s voice preceded him down the staircase.

Gordon almost choked on his coffee. “Ghost?”

Justin strode into the room and sat in the vacant easy chair. “Sure. When we were kids, everyone said the woods were haunted.”

“Everyone, as in who?” Gordon asked. “Other kids, or someone else?” To his knowledge, the only person who believed in ghosts was Betty Bedford, but she was dead. Murdered, in fact, but not by a ghost.

“Good grief, Justin,” Megan said. “You didn’t really believe all that nonsense, did you? That was us kids trying to scare you.” An apologetic expression, aimed at Justin, flashed across her face. She turned to Gordon. “We gave Justin a hard time. He was the outsider, visiting during vacations. Kids can be cruel.”

“Like the time you dragged me up to what’s-his-name’s place? Crazy Frank?”

“Freddy?” Gordon asked. “Fred Easterbrook?”

“Yeah, that was it.” Justin said, with a pointed glance at Megan. “As I recall, I wasn’t the only one scared spitless that night. The full moon, all the shadows. And that howling.”

“What is all this?” Rose said. “You were out at night? Alone? When? How old were you?”

Both Justin and Megan blushed. “Busted,” Megan whispered.

“Twelve, I think,” Justin said. Another pointed glance at Megan. “
Someone
convinced me that my existence in Mapleton depended on proving I wasn’t a coward. And I also recall that I wasn’t the only one to high-tail it out of there. Or even the first to run.”

“I
said
I was sorry.” Megan lifted her hands.

Rose glared at Megan and Justin, as if she was going to punish the two of them now for a transgression carried out years before. Sam put his hand on her arm and shook his head. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and leaned back on the sofa, arms folded across her chest.

“All the kids did it,” Megan said. “It was a rite of passage. Sneaking out to Crazy Freddy’s place and carving your initials into an old oak tree.”

Rose interrupted. “Megan. Such talk. Calling poor Mr. Easterbrook crazy. In this house, we show respect for others. And we don’t go traipsing onto other people’s property.”

Megan blushed beet red. Gordon busied himself stirring more whipped cream into his coffee. Should anyone look, his initials would be on that oak tree, too.

The tree in question was close enough to the house to make it scary, far enough away so you wouldn’t likely be caught. But knowing Fred had a Mossberg 500 added to the fright factor. Rumor had it Crazy Freddy shot a kid’s hat off, but the kid had never been able to show the hat to prove it. Not to mention a shotgun blast that did any damage to someone’s hat would have done considerable damage to said person’s head at the same time.

“So, did you do it?” Sam asked.

Rose slapped Sam’s arm. “You are condoning this behavior?”

Sam smiled. “Fred was aware of the rite. I think he enjoyed knowing he had such a reputation. He may have tried to frighten them a little, perhaps by making strange sounds, maybe sneaking up to where they would know he was nearby, or having his dogs bark. But he would have never hurt these children.”

Rose tsked. “Fifty-three years I’ve lived here and I’ve never known this.”