Tall shelves held full bolts and cut yardage of fabrics arranged more or less by color. White flannel covered one whole wall from floor to ceiling, providing her with a design wall. Because quilt blocks clung to it as if by magic, she used it to audition different designs without having to pin everything. Today there was an assortment of vibrant orange and green blocks scattered across the surface. It was eye-catching even if not his favorite colors.
A skylight installed in the high ceiling was augmented with enough electric lighting to illuminate an airstrip. At one end of the room was a large table with a recess for her sewing machine and next to it, a standard table, not quite as large. His brother Gus had built it to her specifications. Taller than a normal table, its surface was covered with a large, self-healing plastic cutting mat. A nearby rack held plastic rulers in all shapes and sizes. Razor-sharp rotary cutters hung from hooks on the wall next to it.
Theo sat at her laptop computer, playing with her design software. She looked up and smiled when he came in.
“We have a break in our case.”
Turning to face him, she ran her fingers through her hair, lifting the curls. “Let me guess.” Her grin widened. “The thief tried to steal the statue of Amoes Siler, our glorious founding father, from the park and it toppled over on him.”
“Different case.” Tony toyed with a little fishing pole leaning against her desk. Spying him, Zoë, the office kitten, dashed from her hiding spot and attacked the fabric fish at the end of the line. He teased the kitten, making the fish jump into the air and Theo laugh as she watched. “I came by to tell you that I have to go to Cincinnati. Now. I’ll stop by the house and pick up a few things on my way out of town.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Theo looked up from the kitten, the smile still lingered on her face.
Enlarged by the magnification of her glasses, her big green-gold hazel eyes appeared huge. Tony chose his words with care. “Our mysterious message-sender has provided me with a ticket to the baseball game tonight. I am to meet him or her before the game starts.”
“That’s awfully cloak-and-dagger, isn’t it?” Theo turned to watch the kitten, hiding her expression.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought, too.” Tony led the kitten up onto the window seat before putting the cat toy away. “I’ve been on the phone with the FBI and Cincinnati police for the last hour. If I leave now, I’ll have plenty of time to meet with them, check into my hotel, and put on my armor before the game.”
“You better call me. A lot.”
He nodded. Theo’s pretty face had gone pale, and her freckles appeared more pronounced than usual.
“What about Jamie’s game here?” Theo smiled. “Am I the coach tonight? I think Marjorie’s still out of town.”
Tony was proud of her smile. He knew it wasn’t always easy for her dealing with the hazards of his job. At least she stayed much calmer now.
He considered her question about Jamie’s game. In the flurry of preparations for the trip to Cincinnati, he had spaced out on his six-year-old’s baseball game that evening. He was glad she reminded him. She could coach it. She’d done it before when both Marjorie, the head coach, and he were unavailable. Still, he knew she preferred to sit on the bleachers. “I’ll stop and ask Gus if he’ll take my place. If he has to get back home to Townsend, I guess you’ll get to do it. Either way, I’ll put the bats and practice balls in your van.” He bent and gave her a kiss and ruffled her hair. “Keep your cell phone on. I’ll want updates on the game.”
On his way out of town, he stopped by the museum site to talk to his brother. The place looked like organized chaos. Tony grinned at the picture his brother made standing in the middle of the construction battlefield, his fists resting on his hips. All Gus needed was a breastplate, helmet, sword and short skirt to complete the picture. No Roman general ever had a more commanding attitude.
Their mom, a former Latin teacher, had classical ideas. Being named Jane probably encouraged her to steer clear of the ordinary names in the name-the-baby book. Even so, when she named her firstborn son, Caesar Augustus, she probably hadn't planned on people calling him Gus.
Tony glanced around the site. To him, it looked like a fair amount of progress had been made since his last visit, when he came out to talk to Doreen the previous week.
The hole vanished when the foundation was poured. Now Quentin and Mac, two of the day laborers, were framing a wall above it.
Quentin suffered from a long history of drug and alcohol problems. Recently returned from rehab, his health had noticeably improved. Still pencil-thin and a bit twitchy, he managed to hold a two-by-six in place while his coworker, Mac, used a nail gun to attach it to the cross board. A third workman, Kenny, carried a couple of five-gallon buckets down a wooden ladder propped in the space between the dirt and concrete. Kenny reminded Tony of an ant. Small, industrious and pound for pound stronger than anyone else he knew. Kenny was a foot shorter and nearly a hundred pounds lighter than Tony. He managed to haul pipe, boards and tools that probably outweighed him. Constant labor in the sun had eventually tanned his skin a reddish brown that matched his dark auburn hair and added to his antlike appearance.
Mac looked at Gus and pointed to the thing he and Quentin made. “How's this boss?” The well-muscled man wore his tool belt with the ease only years of practice could provide. He'd only recently moved here from Chattanooga and was already Gus's right-hand man.
“Okay, it looks good.” Gus called, “Mac, I want you and Quentin to make two more exactly like that one.”
Quentin looked bewildered. Tony wondered if he had a clue what he was supposed to do.
Mac saluted and grinned. Sweat darkened his sleeveless gray T-shirt. Removing his safety glasses for a moment, he dried them on his shirttail and nodded in Tony's direction. “You've got a visitor, boss.”
Gus turned. His smile made Tony think today was going pretty well. “Hey there, little brother.”
“Hey to you, too.” The sounds of the air gun mingled with those of several other power tools. Tony wouldn't even know how to turn them on. If he did get the things turned on, he'd probably put a nail through his hand or eye. “I've got a favor to ask.”
“You've got the gun. Shoot.” Gus proceeded to laugh at his own joke.
“Can you coach Jamie's game tonight? I have to run up to Ohio.” He watched as Gus studied him for a full minute. It looked as if he was trying to read Tony's mind and would like to ask a question. He forced himself not to, and Tony didn't volunteer anything.
“Yeah, I can do that. I'll call Catherine and have her come over. We'll do dinner and a baseball game.”
“Thanks, I owe you.”
“Damn straight.” With a sharp nod of his head, Gus turned. His eyes went wide and he dashed after Kenny. “Kenny, stop!”
After a blissfully uneventful drive, Tony received a warm welcome in Cincinnati. The Cincinnati Police had been working the case while he traveled. He was ushered to the desk of Detective Jones, the man assigned as his liaison with the local police.
Detective Jones, a rangy black man with a shaved head, leaned forward, shook hands and immediately handed Tony a computer printout. “It didn't take us long to find out your ticket is one of three purchased together. The buyer paid cash, two weeks ago, at one of the ballpark ticket windows.” His sharp expression displayed a quick wit and a fair amount of curiosity. “So how long do you think this plan has been in the works?”
“My guess, several months.” Tony flipped through the photocopies of the news clippings he carried with him and handed them to Jones. “We are assuming these four people are all dead. Maybe more.” He paused. “These deaths all occurred at the same general time so it's been someone's secret for twenty years.”
“What brought them up now?” Jones looked carefully at each page, frowning at the stories he read.
“My wife found a skeletonized hand three months ago in a local park. According to the state lab, the bones could not have been in that spot for very long. Clearly, someone took the hand from its hiding place and dumped it in an area of new houses.” Tony pushed aside the memory of Theo's distress when she found the bones behind her best friend Nina's house. Nina herself had not been able to shed any light on the grisly find. “Our mysterious contact might or might not have been involved in the killing. It could be a witness. Someone who has waited and watched for years to see if the bodies would turn up or the killer would confess.”
“All those new television shows about how cold cases are solved by DNA or new information might have stirred someone up. Either way, this is an ugly business.” Detective Jones studied the clippings. “You ready to do this?”
Tony nodded, gratified the Cincinnati police were taking this seriously. Although they, like Tony, did not believe anything violent was likely to occur, they had a team of plainclothes cops in the club room. An undercover cop was operating the elevator.
The ballpark front office people were not happy. They didn't want any negative publicity or any fans getting caught in a crossfire. Short of closing off the area, however, they didn't have a better plan.
Tony would be lying to himself and everyone else if he said he wasn't nervous. He drove back to the Kentucky side of the Ohio River and parked according to his instructions. Adrenaline surged through his system as he climbed out of the car and began walking across the Purple People Bridge, the pedestrian bridge spanning the Ohio River.
Sitting on the edge of the river, the new ballpark beckoned to the baseball lover in him. The decorative smokestacks were ready to shoot off fireworks if one of the home team hit a homerun. The new ballpark was a sight he'd wanted to see but this wasn't quite the occasion he had in mind. He had thought the whole family would come up together. It would be a hot dog and pretzel kind of night. This game of cat and mouse could go south in a heartbeat. He didn't like being the mouse.
The cop in the elevator was a young woman with a bouncy ponytail. Industriously chewing a piece of gum, she looked about eighteen and bored to death. She checked his ticket and shuttled him and a young couple up to the club level. The instant the couple stepped out and moved away, her manner changed abruptly and she spoke softly.
“Sheriff, I've tried to check for anything that looked off, you know, but . . .” She kept her finger on the door-open button. “For what it's worth, there isn't a big crowd in there yet.”
“Thanks.” He pasted on his I'm-a-hick-and-I'm-happy-to-be-here expression. “None of us knows what to watch for tonight. Thanks just the same.”
Three laughing men in their sixties approached the elevator. The overall effect of the trio dressed in red shirts and hats made them look like one overweight, three-headed tomato. Tony released his breath and stepped out of the elevator and headed for the club room.
The room was long and fairly empty at this hour. To his left, a glass wall separated the room from the ballpark seats. He could see a row of concession stations in the middle and to the right, rows of tables and chairs. Televisions suspended from the ceiling showed the pregame program. Ahead of him, he could see a full bar. Although not generally a big drinker, a shot of whiskey sounded pretty good right now. It would have to wait.
The tables to the right overlooked the street below and had no view of the ball field. Few people sat there. One, a thin old man wearing a red baseball cap struggled to his feet and beckoned to Tony.
He was more than thin; he was gaunt, Tony thought as he stepped in that direction. In his bright red T-shirt and worn jeans, the man looked harmless and very ill. His knees gave way and he sat down abruptly, collapsing onto his chair. Spreading his hands on the red tabletop, he smiled.
“I'll bet you don't remember me, Tony. I remember you.” Surprisingly deep, his voice was steady. “We went to school together.”
Tempted to shake his head, Tony studied the face carefully. This man looked to be closer to sixty than thirty-eight. Sunken cheeks made the deep-set brown eyes seem too large for his face. The nose was slightly crooked. His steady gaze didn't waver. Tony could see nothing familiar in it.
“My name is Harrison Duff,” he said. “You can tell your police friends I'm harmless.” He lifted skeletal hands from the table in mock surrender.
The name rang a bell in Tony's mind and he nodded. “You lived in Silersville for only a few months. Yes, I do remember you. You arrived my senior year and created quite a stir with your city ways.” Tony stared. That boy had been strong and handsome and had worn his thick hair in a ponytail.
“Yeah, I thought Silersville was the deep end of the dump. My folks were splitting up and I got sent to live there with my aunt.” Harrison lifted one thin shoulder. “She was nice, I was not.”
“Why the newspaper clippings and the mysterious stuff with the ticket?” Tony sat down across from Harrison but didn't suggest his police backup go home. His gut said it was safe. He also knew guts aren't very smart and sometimes dangerously inaccurate.
“I'm dying.” A sickly grin holding only a hint of amusement crossed the sallow face. “I wanted to have a little fun and then clear my conscience. When I made my grand plan, I honestly had no idea it would cause so many people so much trouble. My priest seems to think a full confession is necessary for my soul.”
“Cancer?” Tony would guess liver maybe. In truth, the man looked nearly dead already.
“AIDs.”
“Sorry.” Tony tilted his head slightly. “Do you want to confess here? At the police station? In Silersville?”
“Here's fine. I typed it all out and signed it and my priest witnessed it. I will happily answer any questions you have.” As soon as he pushed the paper across the table, an expression of deep peace crossed his face. “Here he is now.”
Tony took the offered paper. Harrison watched a portly priest with a florid complexion approach the table, carrying a tray of snacks and drinks. He circled around behind Harrison and sat down next to him. The priest didn't say a word to either of the men but simply stared at Harrison.