The Cracked Pot (8 page)

Leaves had collected in the pit area where I moved the pieces after their firings; I'd need to clean up the area if I was going to fire again.

As I walked closer to the pit, I noticed the leaf pile had a peculiar shape to it. It was as if—no, it couldn't be. I brushed a few leaves from the pile, and my worst fears were confirmed.

It was a body, and the instant I saw the man's long hair, I knew it was David.

* * *

"Bill, wake up. Call the sheriff."

"What?" he asked groggily as he sat up. "What hap pened?"

"Where's the phone?" Why wasn't he listening to me?

"Take it easy, Carolyn. It's right there in your sweater pocket."

I'd forgotten I had it. My fingers were shaking too much to dial the numbers, and I shoved it into his hand. "Call Hodges. I found David. By the kiln. He's dead." The sobs were coming now, stealing my breath, and to my husband's eternal credit, he ignored the phone and wrapped me up in his arms. After a few minutes, I managed to catch my breath and I pulled away from him. "Sorry. I lost it for a second there."

"You're entitled. Are you going to be all right?"

"I think so," I muttered.

"Good. Stay right here. I'll be back in a second."

The last thing in the world I wanted was to be left alone. "Where are you going?"

"I have to check myself."

"You don't believe me?" My voice had a hysterical pitch, but I couldn't seem to suppress it.

"Of course I do. It won't take a second."

"I'm going with you," I said.

"You don't need to."

"You're wrong. I do."

He studied me a second, then said, "Come on."

Why on earth had I volunteered to see David again? I couldn't decide which was worse, the prospect of seeing Bill turn him over and staring into David's lifeless eyes, or being in that house alone, waiting for my husband to return.

"Let me grab my flashlight," he said. A minute later, we were outside by my kiln. I wondered if I'd ever be able to bring myself to fire there again. I doubted it, with the image of David constantly hovering in my mind.

I stayed back a few paces, but Bill walked up to the body and knelt beside it. "What are you doing?" Why was I screaming?

"I've got to make sure he's really dead."

Oh no. I hadn't even considered that possibility. What if my reaction had robbed David of his last chance to be saved? Hannah would hate me for eternity, and I wouldn't blame her.

My husband reached down and tried to find a pulse. I stood there watching, afraid to utter a word.

He shook his head, then stood. "He's dead all right, but it's not David."

"Are you sure? The hair looks just like his."

Bill said, "That's because you looked at it in the twilight. It's too gray to be David's, but unless I'm missing my guess, it's his father."

I felt a momentary flood of relief wash through me, but it was soon gone.

"What's wrong?" Bill asked me. "I thought you'd be happier about the news."

"I'm glad it's not David, but you know who the sheriff is going to suspect. Hannah had every reason in the world to kill him, didn't she?"

"From what I've heard around town, she'd have to get in line." He started dialing the phone, but I put a hand on his. "Do we have to call him right now?"

"You know we do," Bill said. "It's the proper thing to do."

"I guess," I said, "but I'd like to see if I can get Hannah first and warn her about what's about to break loose."

"It'll have to wait until I call Hodges," my husband said firmly.

Thirty seconds later, after listening to Hodges's warning not to touch anything, Bill handed me the phone. "I'd call her as fast as you can. You're right; she deserves a heads up about what's about to happen."

At least my hand wasn't shaking anymore. I dialed Han nah's number, and instead of saying hello, she answered with a question. "David, is that you?"

"It's Carolyn," I said. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you."

"It's David, isn't it? He's dead." There was an utter lack of emotion in her voice as she said it, as if she already be lieved it in her heart.

"I found a body, but it wasn't your son's. It's Richard. Somebody killed him and his body is in my backyard."

"Oh, no," she said, and then hung up the telephone be fore I could warn her that the sheriff would likely be coming after her and her son.

Bill asked, "What did she say?"

"As soon as I told her about Richard, she hung up on me."

He shook his head. "I hope she doesn't run away from this. Panicking is the worst thing she could do right now."

"She didn't kill her ex-husband," I snapped at Bill.

"Take it easy. I didn't say she did. But you know how she can be."

I was saved from answering by the sound of sirens near ing. A minute later, Sheriff Hodges came into the backyard, followed by half a dozen other officers.

"You can go inside," he said to us after he heard how I'd stumbled across the body. "I'll be in later to get an official statement from you."

"I just told you all I know," I said.

"Bill, will you take her inside? We've got work to do."

He nodded and put an arm around me. "Come on, Caro lyn. Neither one of us can do anything out here."

"You're taking orders from the sheriff now?"

He whispered, "I'm doing this for you. Do you really want to see them examining the body? I thought I'd save both of us from that nightmare."

"Okay, I understand that."

I walked inside with my husband, who said, "You might want to put a pot of coffee on. It's getting chilly out there."

"They can go to the convenience store and get their own coffee," I said.

"They can, or we can do the right thing and offer them something ourselves. Carolyn, I know you don't like the man, but it wouldn't hurt to be civil. He's just doing his job."

"I'm not sure I agree with that."

"Blast it all, I'll make it myself then." As Bill started to ward the coffeepot, I waved him off. "I'll do it. After all, I don't want them to arrest you."

"Why would they do that?"

"Some folks might think having to drink your coffee was a crime."

At least it gave me something to do. After the coffee had brewed, Bill grabbed a tray and filled it with mugs, and I got the pot.

To my relief, the body was gone by the time we got out there. The sheriff said, "I thought I told you to stay inside."

"We brought you and your staff some fresh coffee," I said as I took in the scene: crime tape surrounded my kiln, portable lamps lit up the yard, and an officer was filming the whole thing.

"That would be nice," he admitted as he took a mug from me.

"So, do you know what killed him yet?" I asked as casu ally as I could manage while Bill handed out mugs to the rest of the force.

"Is that why you're suddenly being so nice?" he asked. "Are you out here trying to mine me for information?"

"Forget I said anything," I said.

After a few sips of coffee, Sheriff Hodges said, "Sorry. Murder always puts me on edge. I'd tell you if I could, but it's not time to release that information yet." He gestured with the cup. "Thanks for the brew."

"You're welcome," I said.

After he was finished, he handed me the mug. "That was mighty hospitable of you, Carolyn."

"It was Bill's idea," I admitted.

"Tell him I said thanks, then." He paused and said, "He was beaten up pretty bad." Then asked, "Did David ever turn up?"

"You honestly can't suspect him of killing his own fa ther, can you?"

He paused a second before answering. "There's no telling what a shock like that might do to his system. Now, don't get in an uproar. I need to talk to him, that's all. Surely you can see that yourself. How about Hannah? Why isn't she here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Carolyn Emerson, I'll give you ten to one that you called her right after your husband called me. Don't make me pull the phone records to prove it."

"What makes you think I didn't call her before I called you?"

"I doubt Bill would let you. So let me ask you this. Why isn't she here? She's got a stake in it—even you have to ad mit that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said as I turned and walked away.

As Bill and I collected the rest of the mugs, I did my best to avert my gaze from the raku pit. It was as dead to me now as Richard Atkins.

My thoughts returned to David. His disappearance would look bad for him, but why would David kill Richard? The man was his father, albeit an absentee one. Then I real ized that Richard, in the guise of Charles Potter, had also been his hero. There was no telling what he might do given that combination. Could Hannah have killed him? She had reason enough. At least she had twenty years ago. But that was a long time to hold a grudge. Or was it? There had to be other suspects, including the ones Shelly had mentioned earlier that day. I wondered if the mayor, Harvey Jenkins, or that gossip Kendra Williams had alibis for this evening, or if Sheriff Hodges would even get around to asking them. No, most likely he'd focus on David and Hannah, two of my fa vorite people in the world. I was not going to let him pin this murder on either one of them. Whether Bill liked it or not, that meant that I was going to have to do a little digging on my own.

Chapter
5

"I'll see you this evening," I told my husband the next morning after I kissed his cheek.

"Where are you going at this hour?" he asked as he sat up in bed. "It's the middle of the night."

"It's 6 a.m.," I corrected him. "I have some errands to run before I open Fire at Will."

"Hang on a second. Let me get dressed and I'll go with you." He started to get up, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Go back to sleep. I'm perfectly capable of being on my own."

He rubbed his eyes. "Have you talked to Hannah al ready?"

"No, but I'm hoping she meets me for coffee this morn ing. She usually calls to cancel if she can't make it, and I never heard from her last night." I was painfully aware of the extenuating circumstances that might have kept her from calling, but that didn't mean I was going to give up on my friend. I was hoping the regularity of our morning cof fee breaks together would bring her to In the Grounds out of habit, if nothing else.

"Who are you going to talk to this early?"

"No time to chat. I'll call you later." I knew if I told my husband I was going to Shelly's Café, he'd refuse to stay home in bed. He loved her pancakes more than he loved mine, a point of contention between my dear husband and me since he'd first disclosed it.

Shelly looked surprised to see me as she worked at feed ing what was currently a light breakfast crowd. "I didn't know your alarm clock worked," she said as she slid three eggs, bacon, and a short stack of pancakes on a platter.

"I'll have one of those," I said.

"I don't care what you get, but you can't have that one," a burly man said from the other end of the counter. "That one's mine."

"Or is it?" Shelly asked. "How do you know Carolyn didn't phone ahead?"

"You don't take telephone orders," he said smugly.

"I do for my friends," she replied.

He looked as though he might cry.

"Let him have it," I said. "I'll wait my turn."

For a moment, I thought the man was actually going to kiss me. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," I said.

Shelly leaned forward. "Is that really what you want?"

"Make it two eggs, one piece of bacon, and some dry toast," I said, vowing to stick to my diet.

"Not even one pancake?" she asked.

"Well, just one," I said, promising myself I'd try walking home sometime myself.

She had my breakfast ready in no time, and since no other customers had come in, Shelly pulled up a stool and sat across from me at the counter. "Mind some company?"

"Actually, I was hoping to talk to you."

She nodded. "The sheriff came by. I figured the murder last night brought you in this morning. It must have been awful finding the body like that."

"It wasn't the most pleasant thing I've ever experi enced," I admitted, "but at least it wasn't David." I ex plained the similarities between David's and his father's hair colors and styles, and my confusion when I'd stumbled into the pit the night before.

"I never even thought of that," she said. "Have you seen him? How's he taking it? It's got to be tough losing a father you didn't even know."

"I haven't talked to him, or his mother. It wouldn't sur prise me if the sheriff has them both locked up by now."

Shelly frowned. "I know you're not a big fan of the man, but he's not as bad as you think."

"I don't know how he could be," I said. "The real reason I'm here is that I'm looking for more information."

"About Richard Atkins? Carolyn, I don't know anything I could swear to. All I hear are rumors and idle speculation around this place. You'd be amazed by what folks say here. It's almost like they forget I'm working back at the grill."

"I need to know what you've heard," I said. "I'm not about to accuse anybody of murder without facts, but I do need to know where to look. You mentioned the mayor and Kendra Williams. Do you have any other suspects in mind?"