Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music (17 page)

“What then?” Martha stepped to the forefront. “I know all about being suspected of wrongdoing, and it is most unpleasant. Maybe there is some way we can help.”

The small bit of sympathy sent Beth into more spasms of grief. “Y-you don't understand.” She blew her nose several times on the same worn tissue. “He is guilty.” Beth looked into Theo's face. “But not of murder.”

Shocked, Theo barely heard Beth's last words which were all but drowned out by the swell of discussions around them. The increased volume of chatter was deafening. It was turning into chaos.

Theo slipped her fingers into her mouth and blew. The shriek of the whistle brought all eyes around to her and stopped all conversation. Jamie and Chris would have been impressed. Theo spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “I understood you to say that Art is not guilty of murder, didn't you?” Beth nodded and Theo continued, “So, Beth, do you want us to stay or go?”

“St-stay.” She was rubbing the ear nearest Theo. It had taken the full force of Theo's whistle. “In spite of what you might think, Art would never hurt anyone. He is totally nonviolent.”

Still insanely curious herself, Theo turned on her little group. “Stay or go? If you say stay, then we will respect Beth's privacy, okay?” The flock nodded. “We will have a show of hands then. Who wants to stay?”

All hands reached for the ceiling. Beth wiped her face.“Thank you, ladies.” She attempted a smile. “I think we need some nachos. My treat.” With that she headed for the kitchen.

Dottie, the oldest of the quilters, called to her retreating back. “You know, a beer or some wine would go well with nachos.” Almost all of the women looked like they were in agreement. Even the staunchest of the Baptists seemed interested.

Theo worked on her quilting for a few minutes before slipping off to her room to call Tony again. Most days she thoroughly despised the cell phone phenomenon, but today she loved it. Within seconds Tony was talking to her. “Whatever is going on, Tony? Mike Ott came for Art, and now Beth is weeping buckets and swears his arrest has nothing to do with Scarlet but won't tell us anything more.”

“Search me.” Tony's voice was muffled. “I've got an attorney from Knoxville and three suspects who look like they are getting ready to confess. The only problem is I have no idea what they've done.”

Theo recognized the familiar sound of his chewing antacids.

“I have an officer who needs to be disciplined, but I'm already shorthanded. There's an unsolved homicide, and Edith is cooking dinner because I don't have time. The boys are threatening mutiny.”

Theo smiled at the phone. It sounded like his plate was full to overflowing, but he hadn't lost his sense of humor. “You did make the scouts happy, though, on Friday night.” She gasped. “Was it only last night?”

“That, my dear, was the highlight of my career. I was fabulous. All the boys even said so.”

“I'm so glad. You seemed a bit reluctant. If you order pizza before Edith gets too creative, our boys will give you a medal.” Without warning, Theo remembered the idea she'd forgotten earlier. “I had a flash about Scarlet. Could she have been robbed? Like violently? I thought of it because nobody else I know ever wore cashmere and jewels to a quilt retreat before.”

“Jewels? Wait a minute.” Tony broke in. Theo heard papers being shuffled. “The only jewelry she was wearing when we arrived was a large gold ring set with a red stone, possibly a ruby, and a watch. Expensive. Are you saying she was wearing more jewelry last night?” His voice sharpened. His interest was definitely aroused.

“Oh, yes. Scarlet was positively festooned.” Theo closed her eyes and tried to visualize the scene. Color was always what she could remember best. “She had on a creamy cashmere sweater. Maybe it was oatmeal. No, there was a definite tinge of yellow in it.”

Her husband let her ramble through her thoughts without interrupting. Theo knew he'd wait patiently letting her work through her memory.

“Hanging over the neckline of the sweater was a woven gold necklace. It was longer than a choker, but it didn't come much below her collarbone. It was flat and maybe a half-inch wide. Hanging down from the center was a single large ruby. I mean a really big ruby. I remember thinking it was a lot of necklace to wear around a group that tends toward sweatpants and loose threads.”

A choking sound that might have been laughter came from Tony. Theo smiled and went on. “I'm pretty sure she was wearing matching earrings but her hair covered her ears. I'm sure she had on a bracelet matching the necklace. At first she wore it on her right wrist but it kept catching on her thread as she did her embroidery, so she made a big production of putting it onto her left wrist. She acted like it was new, but no one would dream of asking her about it.”

“So she had her watch and her bracelet on the left wrist?”

“Yes, for a while anyway.”

“Did she change clothes during the evening? Maybe she took it off.”

“No. She didn't change clothes. I'm sure she still had it on when I last saw her before she went upstairs. You searched her room, didn't you?” Almost against her will, Theo was drawn to the window, and she looked down to where the body had been. Maybe the gold would be visible if it had fallen to the ground. Only the dark green of the rhododendrons and the browns of the season met her eyes. There was no flash of gold.

“Of course we did. And you are right. No one found any extra jewelry. Not in her room or anywhere around the scene.” After a silence, Tony's voice was quiet. “Was she killed to steal them, or were they taken after the fact? Uh-oh, it looks like Mason is ready for me. I'll talk to you later.”

Tony saw Mr. Mason standing in front of his office doorway talking to Sheila. Tony was shocked to see the attorney looked like he had aged ten years since his arrival at the Park County Law Enforcement Center. There were lines of strain creasing his face. His auburn hair was no longer neatly combed. Now it was standing in tufts as if he had been repeatedly running his hands through it. His tie was askew. Even his suit had developed a wrinkle. Just one, but it was a real wrinkle.

Lined up in chairs behind him sat his clients, Prudence and Art. His third client, Claude, was still propped up against the wall where he had more or less collapsed.

Tony finally comprehended everyone was waiting for him. He stood and tucked in the loose end of his shirttail. Smoothing his scalp as if it were still covered with hair, he left his office. Tony attempted a glare at the culprits. “I hope this is not going to take long. I am running out of patience, but we can wait for the county attorney if you like.” He addressed Mason. “Archie Campbell is probably at the football game in Knoxville. What would you like to do?”

Tony observed as Mason looked at his clients. Claude looked like roadkill. Prudence sat with one leg crossed over the over. Except for the constant swinging of her foot, she looked composed. Art's hands were being crushed between his knees, and his color had deteriorated. In spite of the pleasant temperature in the room, he was perspiring heavily. Under his armpits, his shirt was soaked to the waist.

As one, they shook their heads.

“I'm afraid this may not fall into Archie's jurisdiction. We will let you decide who to call.” Mason didn't look like he agreed with his clients' decision but sank onto the chair someone had found for him and attempted to smooth the wrinkle out of his suit pants with his fingers. “I would prefer to limit this information to as few people as necessary.”

Fascinated, Tony and Wade and Mike and Sheila dragged chairs out for themselves and waited for the confession. There was more than enough confusion to go around. Tony was delighted he wasn't the only one in the dark.

Unable to stay seated, Mason lunged to his feet and addressed them like they were members of the jury. Maybe even the Supreme Court. “I'd like to preface this by saying my clients had the best interest of the community in mind. Truly, like other heroes, they didn't enter into this lightly, and neither did they ever expect to be absolved. They—” Interrupted by the tones of the “William Tell Overture” blasting from Tony's pocket, he stopped and smiled in spite of the serious nature of their meeting. Mason waved for Tony to answer his phone.

Under ordinary circumstances, Tony might have been embarrassed he had not switched off the sound, but the medical examiner in Knoxville was on the line. “I have some very preliminary results that might help you, Tony. Grab a pencil.”

Tony went into his office and closed the door. “What's up, Doc?” He wasn't smiling when he said it.

Doctor Blake, the pathologist, coughed a couple of times before he started speaking. “Sorry about that. I got some coffee down the wrong pipe. Your victim was attacked from behind. Her neck had a thin wire wrapped around it. Twice. I'd say she died quickly, but not immediately. Someone wearing knit navy blue nylon gloves had a hand over her nose and mouth at the time she died. We were able to find some of the fibers. We passed them on to the wizards. They will do their best with them, but they don't expect they can be traced. Too generic. If you find a pair of blue nylon gloves in your investigation, they might be able to make a match.” There was a pause for more coughing and then the sounds of a cigarette being lit. “The metal wire, the murder weapon, is a string for a musical instrument—a dulcimer, to be precise.”

Tony remembered Theo's description of Scarlet's jewelry. “Any signs that a necklace or other jewelry might have been involved?” He passed along Theo's description.

“A necklace? You mean like scratches or bruising? No. If she was wearing something, it wasn't caught between the killer and the victim or there would be clear marks on the skin. It must have been removed with some care because there weren't any scratches anywhere on her neck. Maybe she took it off herself. It certainly wasn't caught under the wire.” There was a pause. “I know there was something else I wanted to tell you, though.”

Tony lifted his pen from the notepad. He waited while the doctor searched for something in his file, coughing and wheezing the whole time.

“Here it is. I presume you'll hear it from them, too, but Forensics told me that the smudges of grease your deputy found on her back are definitely dirty motor oil stains. Either she was rolling around under a car or her killer had been. He didn't have to be extremely large, but he was probably quite strong. And yes, before you ask, it could have been a strong woman.”

Tony was mentally reassessing the possibility that Art had conspired with Prudence. He had a passkey, and she was certainly strong enough to do the deed, but how would Claude be involved? Claude would be more likely than Prudence to have motor oil on his clothes. But if it was Claude, what would be Prudence's role?

“Can you estimate the time of death?”

“I would say she died between eleven and midnight. Here's what's really weird though. She wasn't moved outside until much later.” He was interrupted by the sound of another phone ringing in the background. “Damn, it's busy here today. Anyway, she was outside probably only for ten to fifteen minutes before your wife found her. I make it half an hour, max. Until then, she was in a relatively warm, dry place. Do you want to hear all of the technical stuff?” It sounded like he was lighting another cigarette.

“Put it in your report.” Tony had heard enough for the time being. “Where are the clothes now?”

“Forensics is keeping them. They aren't doing anything else with them today, but you know eventually the lab rat squad will be able to tell you the brand of motor oil and probably what kind of vehicle it came from. You know, just between you and me, I think those guys are kind of spooky. Bye.”

Left holding the silent receiver, Tony personally thought that the medical examiner was a bit spooky himself, but he didn't say so. He looked at his notes. The death had occurred at eleven-thirty or so in the evening and then at about three in the morning, the killer, he presumed, dropped the victim over the rail. Why the delay? Why not leave her in her room where she wouldn't be found until morning or even afternoon? Or was the killer not the one who dropped the body? Should they be looking for a co-conspirator? Tony felt a monster headache working its way up from his spine, but he left his notes on his desk and headed for the group confession. Maybe this would answer all of his questions, and he could take a handful of aspirin and just go home and eat pizza with his kids. In the meantime, he munched on yet another handful of antacid tablets. He wasn't sure if he preferred the fruity ones to the minty ones, but he guessed he was going to have plenty of occasions for a full taste test study this weekend.

Prudence, Art and Claude didn't look any better than they had when he'd left the room. Mason looked even worse than he had. Mike, Wade and Sheila looked as if they were torn between committing a little police brutality and taking a long nap. Tony ignored the conspirators and addressed Mason. “This had better be good. My mood is not improving as the afternoon wears on.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood as tall as he could and stared at the lawyer.

“Well . . .” Mr. Mason looked uneasy but began, speaking to everyone in a well modulated, professional voice.

Tony thought the attorney could have a career on the radio.

Mr. Mason said, “We belong to a small group of concerned citizens. As you know, the recent highway construction has been the source of hot debates all over the area. It has fueled arguments about everything from disturbing ancient burial grounds to the ozone.” Passion took over, and he strode back and forth as he expounded on the subject. “The environmental concerns have extended not only across the state, but also nationally. Certainly, the proximity of the national park has given rise to a large number of persons and groups concerned by pollution.”

From his position against the wall, Claude interrupted. “It's killing the fish.” The expression on his attorney's face stopped him cold. His lips slammed together as he blanched and returned his head to its place.

“As Mr. Marmot so aptly remarked, it is killing the fish as well as affecting the native plants and the entire ecology of the area. It is also interfering with the normal business activities in the area, particularly those connected with tourism.” Art nodded in agreement as Mr. Mason adjusted his tie. The attorney's tongue was obviously warmed up now, and he appeared to be preparing for a good long speech.