Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music (2 page)

Driving along the fog shrouded streets of the little town he knew so well, he didn't see another moving vehicle and noticed very few lights. The traditional end of tourist season had arrived last weekend, and now the whole town seemed to be recovering, sleeping in. The place looked much like it had when he had first seen it. Not quite a native, his family relocated here when he was eight. While in high school, he had dreamed of escaping and living someplace exciting. First there had been the Navy, and then college and finally a job with the Chicago PD. The opportunity to run for sheriff had come while he was recovering from a near fatal shooting that had left him with a monster scar, permanent indigestion and a hope of raising his children in the more peaceful environment near family. Silersville was home. He loved it.

Unlike neighboring Blount and Sevier counties, which had towns large enough to support a local police department, Park County, Tennessee had only the sheriff's department. His office contracted with the town to supply local law enforcement. Park County itself was a tiny wedge-shape piece of land that had been the result of long ago blackmail by Amoes Siler, one of Theo's relatives.

As he drove down the silent street to the address given by Blossom Flowers, he radioed dispatch asking for his deputy, Wade's location and considered the reason he'd been called out. The Flowers family had only lived in the area for maybe five generations. Blossom was the youngest and the closest thing Tony had to a groupie. Her adoration did not make him feel like a rock star. This was not her house, but she was the person who'd called 911 to report a man had died.

Tony pulled to a stop next to the sidewalk. Wade Claybough, Tony's eager beaver deputy, arrived immediately afterwards and parked his vehicle behind Tony's. The impossibly handsome deputy wasn't smiling as he climbed out of his car. Tony joined him, and they stared at the small house sheltered by a pair of huge maple trees. Brilliant yellow and red leaves drifted onto the grass. A nod of Tony's head sent Wade toward the back door, clearly ajar, illuminated by the golden light coming from the kitchen.

The fog swirled as Tony made his way up the front sidewalk, allowing him to see first Blossom's orange hair glowing like a beacon, and then her bulky figure sitting on the front steps of the house. On closer inspection, he saw her chubby fingers clutching a large package of cream-filled chocolate cupcakes. A box of tissues sat next to her, the used ones lined up in a tidy row along the edge of the step. Her protruding blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery. A blob of cream filling stuck to her upper lip and he could see chocolate cake crumbs trapped in the crevice between her third and fourth chins. The navy blue, short sleeved plaid shirt was too tight and cut into the soft flesh of her upper arms. Her expression turned from woe to worship at the sight of Tony. For a second, he thought she was going to jump off the steps and into his arms and start licking his face.

“How are you doing, Blossom?” Unwilling to upset her more than necessary, he was careful to make his voice low and soothing.

Tears welled, magnifying her huge eyes. “Oh, it's just terrible. I came to work just like usual, and then I saw him there, and he was sitting in his favorite chair. And he's dead!” A choking sob rose in her throat. She set a half-eaten cupcake back in the package and dabbed at her eyes with another tissue.

“Did you see anyone on your way in?”

“Couldn't see nothin' for the fog.” A gentle belch rolled out from behind the tissue.

A moment later, Wade appeared at the corner of the house, shaking his head in response to Tony's inquiring glance. It meant there was no reason to call for medical assistance, just for the coroner.

After one more shuddering sob, Blossom recovered sufficiently from her shock and grief to polish off the rest of the cupcake. A faint aroma of chocolate hung in the damp air. Tony's stomach rumbled with a combination of his constant indigestion and lack of breakfast. He searched his pockets until he found an antacid tablet. There was only a little lint on it, which he dusted off before popping it into his mouth.

“Are you working for Mr. Beasley now?” Wade moved toward them and glanced at the front door and Blossom.

“Sort of.” Blossom sniffled. “I still work at Ruby's, but Mr. Beasley needed someone to cook for him and do laundry and such and I could use the money.”

“What time did you get here, Blossom?” Tony said.

“A little after seven. I was a few minutes late 'cause I stopped to pick up a little snack. And some eggs for Mr. Beasley.” She sniffled daintily. “Then I had to go slow 'cause of the fog. It ain't been this bad in months.”

She paused, as if waiting for Tony to nod in agreement. He did.

“Mr. Beasley, he don't like much besides eggs for lunch. Said they made his hair shine, you know.” Another shuddering sob worked its way out. “It must a worked, 'cause did you ever see prettier hair than his?” She was staring openly at Tony's bald scalp.

“Can you tell me anything else that happened recently? Anything unusual, that is.”

She puckered her little lips. Then she furrowed her brow. Finally shrugging, she answered, “No. He was his regular self when I stopped by yesterday afternoon about four. I was on my way to get my hair done, since I work every morning but Sunday and you just try to get a beauty operator to work on Saturday afternoon.”

Tony forced himself not to smile. One thing he liked about Blossom was her hair. She was one of the few people in town who had almost as little as he did. Where his remaining hairs were shaved away, hers grew in little tufts, which she dyed a remarkable shade of orange. The whole mess was then glued into an artful arrangement bearing a curious resemblance to rusted steel wool. “He didn't say anything about feeling unwell?”

She pursed her lips again and furrowed her brow, pressing her index finger against her chin. It was obviously the “thinking” look she preferred. He wondered if she practiced it in front of the mirror. Finally she made her decision. “No.”

“Did you ever hear him arguing with anyone?”

“No.” She wadded up her tissue and put it in the cupcake package. “Well, yes, lots of times. But not yesterday. I don't remember who it was either.” Gathering the rest of the tissues and putting them in the package, she shifted back and forth on the step, avoiding eye contact. “I don't feel too good, Tony.”

“Go on home, Blossom, and get some rest. I'll be in touch later on, but do me a favor?”

She nodded.

Tony doubted it would do any good, but he asked, “Don't talk much about this yet? Okay? If something's happened to him, I'd like to notify the family first.”

Bobbing her head in agreement, Blossom heaved herself to her feet and started down the sidewalk.

“Oh, Blossom, could I have the key so I can lock up here?”

“Don't need one.” She didn't even pause. “Just push the little button thing before you shut the door.”

Tony smiled. “Never mind then. I can handle that okay.”

Still hiccupping, Blossom waddled toward her car until even the orange hair vanished into the milky fog.

Wade waited until Blossom was out of hearing. “He's dead, all right. Sitting in his recliner. The television is on, and he's still holding the remote control. It looks like he just fell asleep.”

“That's the second senior citizen this week.” Tony said.

“Weird how these things seem to happen in a series of three, isn't it?” As if hit by a delayed reaction, Wade dashed away and threw up into a bush.

Even as Tony wondered who might be number three, he nodded and called Doc Nash's number. Silersville's doctor and also Park County's coroner, Doc answered on the second ring. He promised to be right over and was as good as his word.

When the doctor arrived, he virtually ignored Tony and greeted Wade like a long lost friend, slapping him on the back and not giving the deputy any grief about his usual reaction to a dead body. Instead, he appeared in good spirits, humming a little tune under his breath as he walked up the sidewalk. Not Doc Nash's usual style at all. Tony was instantly suspicious. What was the man planning?

“Where's our body?” Doc's attitude teetered on the edge of jovial.

Tony led the way into Weevil Beasley's house, going through the side door into the kitchen. A glance at the pile of empty egg cartons stacked inside proved Blossom's assessment of the man's eating habits. The kitchen was clean and orderly.

Doc Nash's attitude underwent an immediate change. He went to the body and briefly examined it.

Tony noticed the message light blinking on the man's telephone answering machine. When he pressed play, a raspy male voice said, “I hope you're dead.”

The doctor's eyebrows flew up. “I'm guessing I'll need to check a few more things, given the tone of his recent message, but I think everything is natural. The old guy probably just expired in his sleep.”

“Until we know for sure, I'm treating this like a crime scene.” Tony sent Wade for his camera and studied the dead man and his living room. Mr. Beasley looked like the tidiest corpse he'd even seen. His thick gray hair was neatly combed. His slacks and button down shirt looked freshly ironed. No cups or papers littered the room. Most importantly, no suicide note sat on the desk in the corner.

Tony put on latex gloves but used the little bottle opener hanging on his key chain to pull the desk drawer open. In case there were fingerprints on the drawer handles he didn't want to smudge them, but he wasn't wasting the time and man hours needed to fingerprint everything unless there was cause.

The pencil drawer was empty except for three pens and a roll of tape. The larger drawer held a hanging file system but no file folders. There were no bills or bank statements; nor was there a checkbook, will or any correspondence. If, as rumor held, he indulged in off-the-record loans, there was no evidence of it.

Wade led the way through the house, his camera shutter clicking.

On the nightstand next to the bed was a wallet. Tony opened it and found forty-eight dollars in cash, a few credit cards and the business card for attorney Carl Lee Cashdollar. “I trust he has a copy of the man's will.”

In the bathroom, Tony opened the medicine chest. A toothbrush and toothpaste, a hairbrush and eye drops but no pill bottles.

Tony went back to the doctor. “He's eighty-something and didn't need to take any pills?”

“Of course he did.” The doctor frowned. “He needed several just for his heart.”

“Where do you suppose the trash is?” Tony backtracked to the kitchen. Sure enough, several empty pill bottles were on the top layer. Tony fished each one out with a table knife from a drawer, dropping each onto the counter.

The doctor studied them. “He just refilled these yesterday.”

“And did he take enough to die from it?”

Doc Nash shook his head. “I don't know. I'll run a test during the autopsy. He's been depressed since his wife died.”

“So, why have Blossom bring him eggs if he wasn't planning to eat them?” Tony didn't expect an answer. “Does he have relatives in the area?”

“His wife does, did I guess, since she's passed on now, it's did.” Wade looked over the top of his camera. “Her brothers are Angus and Davy Farquhar.”

“Now there's a stellar family tree. No wonder she never wanted them to visit her in the hospital.” Doc Nash pulled himself upright. “She told me her brother Davy's in the penitentiary and his three sons, the ‘darlin’ boys' are headed that way and Angus isn't any better.”

Tony was shocked. “Sweet Aileen Beasley was a Farquhar?” Tony remembered her as a genuine lady librarian. Her nephews were definitely working their way up the ladder of crimes.

“Yep.” Doc Nash bobbed his head. “And was ashamed of them all.”

The ambulance crew arrived, and Tony stepped back to let them take Mr. Beasley's body. “Too many questions, not enough answers.” He looked at Wade. “Let's place seals on the doors until we know more about the cause and manner of his death.”

Tony stopped by his house to pick up Theo and take her to her quilt shop. Not only was she no longer able to reach both the steering wheel and the pedals in her minivan, but it rarely started on command. The post office truck was just pulling away from the curb, so he collected the mail and walked up the walk.

The fog had lifted and now it was a perfect autumn day, sunny and cool. Sunlight reflected off the surface of the creek beyond the house. The skateboard was nowhere to be seen.

When he got into the house, he found Theo in the kitchen, humming and wiping the counter. She gave him a brilliant smile and took the mail from him.

Theo lifted a bright pink envelope from the top of the stack and tore open the flap. “It looks like we've been invited to another wedding. We've got a solid two weeks of weddings and birthdays.”

“Whose now?” Tony filled a mug with coffee, emptying the morning's carafe. “We've already got Mike marrying Ruby, and Celeste marrying Patrick, both next week. I half expect Wade to disappear some day and return with a wife.”

“Wait.” Theo sat down, her fingers inside the envelope. “Go back to the part about Wade. He's getting married? To whom?”

“I don't know anything for sure, but he's acting very odd: long phone calls, trips out of town on his days off.”

“And you know this because?” Theo pulled a stiff card out of the pink envelope.

“Because we have so few deputies, I have to know when someone is not going to be available for emergency call out.”

“Okay, so what else is Wade doing?”

“He and Doc Nash talk a lot, and our overworked doctor has turned almost jovial, and I don't know how or why but I think it's all connected to a female.” Tony reached for the abandoned envelope. “I can't read the return address.”

“It's from Katti.” Theo stared at the card inscribed with bright pink ink. “Claude Marmot and Katti are announcing they got married last week. This is an invitation for a party. A reception.” She continued to stare at the card. “At the dump.”

“No way.” Only a month had passed since the Russian girl arrived to meet her American fiancé for the first time. Tony had seen her only from a distance and thought she was cute. He'd wondered what she thought of a trash hauler whose yard and house were filled with salvaged items. If she married Claude, Tony assumed all was fine.