Yet she does. Sure, we’d discussed my murder cases, back when I still worked for SFPD, but that doesn’t explain her amazing natural abilities as an investigator. Since my retirement, we’d found ourselves involved in two different homicide inquiries, and Ash’s insights into human nature had played a pivotal role in solving those crimes. So, I didn’t object to her assistance; in fact, I welcomed it if she could overcome Tina’s objections. My only concern was that she’d never encountered this sort of gruesome death scene, and I wasn’t sure how she’d react to the sight.
I decided to wait outside on the porch. It was bloody hot outside, but inside hadn’t been much better. Besides, I couldn’t run the risk of visitors accidentally coming across the body and contaminating the crime scene by, say, being sick on the floor. I’ve witnessed that sort of thing happen; talk about tainting a crime scene. So I stood on the porch, leaning against one of the Doric columns and occasionally swatting uselessly at the flies.
Then I heard the crackle of vehicle tires on gravel and a dust-covered blue Isuzu Trooper rolled into the parking lot and parked next to the Toyota. The driver got out, slammed the car door shut, and began walking very quickly toward the house. I reflected on how sad it was that Mr. Merrit wasn’t alive to see two groups of tourists coming to his museum in a single day. I vaguely recognized the man as someone I’d seen around town, but I couldn’t remember his name.
He was about my height, tan and lean, with a sandy moustache and longish blond hair that hung wispily from beneath a rust-colored Virginia Tech ball cap. He was wearing denim shorts, tennis shoes with white socks, and a baggy canvas-colored sport shirt. Between the cap and the big Oakley sunglasses he wore, you couldn’t see much of his face, but I guessed his age as late twenties or early thirties. He also smelled like an ashtray.
As he mounted the steps, I said, “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go in.”
“But I work here.”
“Really? And you are?”
“Hey, how about you tell me who you are first.” The man put his hands on his hips.
“My name is Bradley Lyon and I’m here as an authorized representative of the Massanutten County Sheriff’s Office.”
“You don’t look like a deputy.”
“I’m not. I’m a civilian consultant for the department. Sheriff Barron will be here in a few minutes and then she’ll decide whether or not you can go in.”
His head dipped for a second and I could tell he was looking at my cane. “Now I know who you are. You’re that retired California cop that married Lolly’s daughter.”
Ash’s dad was Laurence Remmelkemp, but he was known universally as Lolly. Lolly and Ash’s mom, Irene, live just over the hill from us.
I nodded. “Correct. But I still don’t know who you are.”
“Neil Gage. I’m the museum’s curator, and these days, the janitor, and groundskeeper.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it. Gage glanced over at Merrit’s Toyota. “Frank’s car is here. Is he okay?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Gage yanked his sunglasses off. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Merrit appears to have suffered an accident. I found him.”
“Did you call the—oh, my God. Is he dead?”
“I’m sorry to say he is.”
“How did it happen?”
“It’s still a little early to tell.”
“What the hell does
that
mean?”
“That it could have been an accident, but Sheriff Barron has to make sure.”
“But I can’t even go in and see him?”
“Were you a friend?”
“Yeah. He was a good guy.”
“Then, believe me, you don’t want to see him the way he is now.”
Gage appeared pale beneath his tan. “I can’t believe this. He left a message on my answering machine a little while ago. That’s why I’m here.”
“He asked you to come here?”
“Yeah, he said there was some sort of problem at the museum and that I should get over here right away.” He looked down at the floor of the porch. “Nothing else. I was out mowing my yard when the call came in.”
“How long ago did he leave the message?”
“I don’t know. An hour ago…maybe forty-five minutes.”
Right about the time the Yakuza would have been here,
I thought. “And he wanted you to come right over. Did he sound stressed or upset?”
“Maybe a little annoyed. So I jumped in the truck and came here.”
I’d already fumbled the ball big time once this morning, so maybe that made me overly suspicious, but Gage didn’t look to me as if he’d just been mowing the lawn in the summer heat. He wasn’t sweaty and his socks were pristine white, when his shoes and shins should have been covered with fragments of grass. Then again, he might have gotten cleaned up before responding to Merrit’s summons.
“You live far from here?” I asked casually.
“A couple of miles. I live up by Port Republic,” Gage replied.
Port Republic was a small community south of the museum, so Gage’s use of the word
up
told me he was a Shenandoah Valley native. The valley runs downhill from the southwest to the northeast, so locals refer to any trip southward as going
up
.
“So, did Mr. Merrit have a family?”
“A wife and a son. The kid might miss him, but the only thing she’ll be crying about is that there won’t be any more paychecks.”
“That sounds kind of cold.”
“You’ve obviously never met his wife. Frank was a fulltime history professor up at the community college in Waynesboro, but that didn’t pay enough as far as she was concerned. That’s why he took a second job as the museum director.”
“Considering the way the county slashed the museum’s funding, it can’t have paid much either.”
“No, but I guess every penny counted. And it
did
get him away from Marie.”
“He told you about all this?”
Gage gave me a sad smile and waved at the almost empty parking lot. “We had plenty of time to talk.” There was a long pause and then he shook his head angrily. “Damn. If only I’d gotten that message sooner. Maybe…”
“Trust me, it wouldn’t have changed anything. But there is a way you might be able to help. You said you’re also the groundskeeper here?”
“Yep, which goes to show how valuable a history degree is on the job market these days.”
I nodded sympathetically. “So, would you have been responsible for making sure the lawn and flowerbeds were clear of rubbish?”
“Yeah.”
“When did you last do that?”
“Last night. Call it five-thirty. It was after I finished my other job.”
“Which is?”
“I work part-time at Wal-Mart. It helps pay the bills.”
“Working two jobs can be tough. Was there much trash?”
“No. Hardly anyone ever comes here. Still, Frank had a thing about keeping the yard tidy.”
“Which means you wouldn’t have left any candy wrappers or cigarette butts on the ground, right?”
“Absolutely not.” Gage furrowed his brows. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a routine question. I’m just trying to get some background information on how things operated here.”
I heard the low hiss of a car speeding down Wheale Road, coming from town. Seconds later, a Sheriff’s patrol car rolled to a stop in the museum parking lot and the vehicle’s trunk popped open. They’d made excellent time considering that Tina had stopped at home to change into her brown and tan uniform and put on her gun belt. Ash went to the trunk and retrieved a metal camera case. Then the two women started up the sidewalk to the house. I was relieved to note that Tina didn’t look angry, so I assumed Ash had temporarily rescued my reputation by talking to her on the way over. Ash gave me a quick smile, but was obviously trying to remain in the background.
Ordinarily, I call Tina by her first name, but since this was a formal setting, I said, “Sheriff, it’s good to see you.”
“Has anything else happened since you called?”
“Just the arrival of Mr. Gage here. He said that Mr. Merrit called and left a message on his answering machine about forty-five minutes ago asking him to come to the museum.”
Tina looked at Gage. “Did he say why?”
“No, ma’am. I came right over, but he wouldn’t let me into the museum.” Gage nodded in my direction.
“Which was exactly what I wanted Mr. Lyon to do. I realize that you’re concerned, but we need to follow our policies and procedures.”
“I just want to know what happened.”
“So do we, Mr. Gage. With that in mind, can you please wait outside here for a few minutes until we take a look?”
“I’ll be right here.” Gage sat down on the steps.
I followed Tina and Ash up the stairs. Once we were inside and the door was shut, Tina said, “The Medical Examiner is en route, ETA maybe thirty minutes. Where’s the victim?”
“In there.” I hooked a thumb in the direction of the dining room. “But before we go and say howdy, we should do a quick search of the rest of the building.”
“For suspects?” Tina cocked an ear toward the ceiling.
“More likely, other victims. I didn’t hear anything to make me think that someone else was here. If you want, I can check the kitchen while you clear the second floor.”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in a second,” said Tina, heading for the staircase.
I gave Ash’s hand a squeeze. “Honey, on the off-chance there’s a homicidal maniac hiding in the kitchen, why don’t you wait here?”
“Okay, but be careful.”
“Count on it.”
I went down the hallway, slowly pushed the door open, and went into the restored nineteenth-century kitchen, which smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. There was a cast-iron stove; a large pinewood table covered with antique cooking utensils; an authentic butter-churn, and thankfully, no dead body sprawled on the floor. Upstairs, I could hear the squeak of wooden floorboards as Tina moved from room to room. By the time I returned to the foyer, Tina was coming downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
“Nothing suspicious upstairs.”
“The kitchen was clear too,” I said.
“That’s a relief. Oh, and before we get too busy and I forget to mention it, did you know that your wife is the most stubborn person in North America?”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Uh-
huh
. I explained that this was potentially an official homicide investigation and that she couldn’t come with me.”
Ash smiled serenely. “And I told her that I’m your investigative assistant and that we do everything together.”
“True, and I
am
glad you’re here, but our partnership might not be much fun this time, honey. This is a messy one.”
The smile faded a little and Ash shot a nervous glance down the main hallway. “Not that I don’t think I can’t handle it, but just how messy are we talking here?”
“The guy’s been smashed like a bug and there’s quite a bit of blood.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know, but if you do start feeling…queasy…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll leave.”
I said to Tina: “Before I show you the body, there’s something else I think I should mention. Maybe I’m overly-suspicious, but Mr. Gage told me that he was mowing his lawn just before rushing over here and there’s not so much as a blade of grass on him.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so, but it might not mean anything.”
“And he says Merrit called him—what, almost an hour ago now?”
“Yeah, which would have been right about the time the Yakuza were here.”
“If this turns out to be a murder, we’ll need to get a copy of that message and check the time it was received on his answering machine.” Tina grimaced. “In the meantime, I guess we’d better get started.”
I led Ash and Tina to the dining room doorway and heard both women inhale sharply. There was a new song playing on the museum’s audio system: “The Camptown Races,” which added a surreal touch to the scene. Ash looked a little green around the gills, but she didn’t turn away, which meant that she was well on her way to handling her first gruesome homicide scene better than I did, twenty-six years ago. I’d lost my breakfast.
Pointing with my cane, I said, “We can’t see his face, but it’s safe to assume he’s sustained major blunt force trauma. I suspect that’s where most of the blood came from, although there’s the possibility he also got cut by the broken glass.”
“Probably abdominal injuries too,” said Tina.
“Yeah, that cupboard’s made from real wood, so it’s damn heavy.”
I heard Ash swallowing and saw that her face had grown paler. Touching her hand, I said, “Honey, why don’t you move back a little bit and get the camera out.”
I could tell she was prepared to rebuff the offer, but she surprised me. “All right. Thanks. It’s a little much.”
“No, it’s freaking awful and you’re reacting like any normal person would.”
Ash backed away and I heard her put the camera case down on the floor.
Tina shook her head in puzzlement. “I don’t understand how this could have happened. What was he doing?”
“And I’ve got another question,” said Ash.
I turned from the body and saw that Ash was near the fireplace mantle. “What’s that?”
“Why are these antique teddy bears in the wrong spots?”
Seven
“Haven’t they always been up there on the mantle?” I asked.
“Yes, but the placards show that the Michtom teddy is where the Bruin bear should be and vice versa.” Ash stood on her tiptoes and squinted at the bears. “And it looks as if they were switched recently. You can still see the marks in the dust.”
“I hate to admit it, but I stopped for a second to look at them on the way in and never noticed that.”
“So, is the fact the bears have been moved important?” asked Tina.
“Too soon to say. Probably not, even though they are worth thousands.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Oh yeah, together they’re probably worth eight—”
“Nine thousand dollars,” Ash cut in. “They’re both over a hundred years old and extremely rare.”
“And they’re just sitting on a museum shelf without so much as a
DO NOT TOUCH
sign to keep people away? That’s crazy.” Tina shook her head in disbelief.
“Maybe, but from what I’ve heard, the museum’s turned into a money pit and security systems are expensive,” I said.