“Otherwise, he wouldn’t have recognized the potential future value of the land that the house was on.”
“And the only way he could have known about any of this was if Sherri was using Roger as her real estate agent.”
“It fits. Good ol’ Roger would be just the one to know whether a farmer was toying with the idea of selling his land.”
Ash slapped the bathroom counter. “The part that infuriates me was that he kept quiet and decided to sell his friends and neighbors down the river to make a filthy buck.”
“Unfortunately, that seems to be the American way these days. And he may have done more than just betray the folks around here,” I said as I went into the bedroom to get dressed.
“You believe Roger might have killed Everett?” Ash followed me and sat down on the bed.
“If he was willing to burn down a building and put a bunch of firefighters’ lives at risk, we have to presuppose he’s capable of murder.”
“I see what you mean.”
“So let’s assume your theory is correct and Roger was acting as Sherri’s real estate agent. We know that Sherri and Jesse arrived on Tuesday. So, what could the new boundary markers you found on Everett’s property potentially mean?”
Ash nodded and understood. “That there had already been discussions as early as Tuesday and that Everett might have agreed to sell his land.”
I touched the tip of my nose. “But our amusement park pimps
don’t
leave, and instead you see Sherri’s car at Everett’s home on Thursday night. Why are they still here?”
“Because the deal wasn’t finalized?”
“That’s what I’m wondering, too. Maybe Everett got cold feet at the last second and decided he didn’t want to sell. Where does that leave Roger?”
Ash came over to adjust my shirt collar. “Obviously, he doesn’t get his commission. But I find it hard to believe he’d kill Everett over that.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve seen a man killed over a four-dollar taco combo plate. Roger was potentially out well over two hundred grand.” I sat down on the bed to put on my shoes.
“My Lord! That much?”
“Do the math. Everett would’ve been selling fifty-eight acres of land to a company that was probably offering top dollar to ensure they got the property quickly and quietly.”
Ash looked thoughtful. “A single acre can sell for as much as ten thousand dollars around here. That’s five point eight million dollars!”
“But Roger wouldn’t get a penny if Everett changed his mind about selling. Plus, you can bet he was going to use that money to scoop up as much of the adjoining property as possible.”
“So that he could make a fortune when the land rush began.” Ash glanced at the alarm clock. “And speaking of rushing, can we continue this discussion downstairs? We have to eat breakfast and get going, or we’ll be late for our own teddy bear show.”
As we headed back downstairs, the phone in the kitchen began to ring. Ash rushed ahead to get it while I continued to hobble down the steps. When I arrived in the kitchen, Ash handed me the phone and said it was Tina.
The sheriff said, “Roger definitely isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“What did you find?” I asked.
“He wasn’t there, but I did locate a plastic garbage bag on the ground outside his garage.”
“In plain sight, so you didn’t need a search warrant. Sweet.”
“Even better, the bag was full of singed clothes that just stink of gasoline.”
“Excellent work. That pretty much answers the burning question of our arsonist’s identity.”
“But not
where
he is.”
“I have every faith you’ll smoke him out.”
Before she could hang up on me, I filled Tina in on Ash’s theory about the potential real estate connection between the arson and the murder.
When I finished, Tina said, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I put out a BOL on him. I’ll call you if we hear anything.”
I disconnected from the call and joined Ash at the table. We quickly ate breakfast and then packed up the rest of the coffee and pumpkin-cranberry bread to snack on later at the show.
En route, we both expressed cautious hope that the absolutely glorious autumn weather would translate into strong attendance at the show. We arrived in town a couple of minutes later and saw that we had good cause for optimism. This was the closest thing to a traffic jam I’d ever seen in Remmelkemp Mill. There had to have been twenty cars idling on the road, all waiting their turn to enter the church parking lot, which already looked jammed to capacity.
Not only that, there was a queue of about thirty people waiting for the community center doors to open. The presence of that many early-bird collectors was a good sign. It meant that people were excited about the show and wanted first crack at the creations inside. More people joined the line, and I gave Ash a sidelong glance. She was beaming. If the early attendance was any indicator, the show was going to be a rousing success.
I stopped to drop Ash off at the curb and told her I’d join her in a few minutes. She gave me a quick kiss and jumped from the car. Then I drove a half block, made a left turn, and headed back toward the county courthouse on a side street. Having parked the SUV, I grabbed my cane and began walking toward the church. As I was about to cross the main highway through town, my cell phone rang. I half expected it would be Tina or Linny calling, but when I glanced at the screen I didn’t recognize the number.
When I answered the phone, a groggy-sounding woman with a husky smoker’s voice said, “Is this Dandelion?”
“Dandelion? No, this is
Brad
Lyon. Who’s this?”
“Brianna Stearns. There’s a message on my answering machine from Doris to call Dandelion. She must have given me the wrong number, so—”
Realizing the hardware store clerk was still half blasted and that I’d just confuse her all the more by any further discussion over my name, I said, “Don’t hang up! I’m Dandelion. Thanks for calling me back.”
“How’d you get a funny name like that?”
“My parents liked gardening.”
“Huh. Well, Doris said you’re with the law and I want to give my side of the story before you file any charges.”
“Actually, I—”
“That skank was coming on to my boyfriend, acting all hornier than the preacher’s daughter. That was provocation.”
“I’m certain it was, but I don’t have the slightest idea of what you’re talking about. I need to ask you a few questions about something else entirely.”
“Oh. Well . . . never mind.”
“Don’t worry. It’ll be our little secret. Now, Brianna, do you remember working at Delbert’s on Thursday night?”
“That’s where
I
work.”
“Yeah, I know. You were at the cash register. Do you recall that?”
“Sure. You weren’t there, though.”
“You’re right, I wasn’t. But do you remember if a man came into the store maybe a little after seven-thirty and bought a screwdriver?”
There was a long pause, and I began to wonder whether Brianna had gone to sleep or, more likely, to seek out some hair of the dog. At last, she said, “That was the cute guy from Georgia.”
Bingo
, I thought.
Jesse Hauck.
However, keeping my voice calm, I asked, “And how do you know he was from Georgia?”
“He parked his car in the handicapped spot right in front of the doors. I could see the top of the plate.”
“Do you remember what kind of car it was?”
“Some sort of new VW. Nice car . . . cute guy.” Brianna was sounding drowsy now.
“And I just want to be certain about this: He bought a screwdriver, right?”
“Yeah. He said he liked to screw things.” Brianna chuckled at the witticism.
“He sounds like a classy guy. Do you remember how he paid for the screwdriver?”
“Cash.” She yawned and smacked her lips.
“Okay, one final question and then you can go back to sleep. Do you think you could identify that man if you saw him again?”
“Sure. I guess.”
I thanked her for the help and left Tina a voice-mail message recounting my conversation with Brianna. Crossing the road, I made my way to the community center and waved at the church ladies seated at the admission table as I went inside. Once inside, I paused to savor both the scene and the palpable atmosphere of goodwill. The hall was full of cheerful people, all chatting and laughing as they searched for the perfect stuffed animal to add to their collections. I don’t believe in magic, but I’ll allow that teddy bears seem to possess an almost unearthly power to bring out the best in most folks.
It was a good thing I arrived when I did. There was a knot of fur fanatics crowded around both our and Tina’s tables, and I noted with satisfaction that a woman was leaving with one of Ash’s realistic big cat figures. Meanwhile, my wife was writing up a sales receipt for one of Tina’s farmer bears while answering questions about other teddies. I suggested that she let me do the clerical work while she dealt with the collectors. Ash gratefully surrendered the receipt book and pen to me with a thank-you and a kiss on the cheek.
After about ten minutes, there was a lull. As Ash put fresh bears on both tables, I quietly shared with her what Brianna had told me.
Ash said, “Is that enough to arrest Jesse?”
“No. All we can maybe prove is that he bought a screwdriver, which isn’t illegal.” I took a chunk of pumpkin-cranberry bread from the bag and put it in my mouth.
“But what about lying to the police? Didn’t he tell you that he never left the hotel that night?”
“Yeah, but we can’t really prove that yet. Our witness from the hardware was sloshed—which makes her statement unreliable at best.”
“And Linny apparently hasn’t found anything on the security video yet, or he’d have called.”
I chewed and swallowed. “Besides, even if Jesse did lie to me, that isn’t a crime. I have no peace officer status in Virginia, or anywhere else for that matter. I’m just a civilian consultant. People can lie to me all day, if they want.”
Ash picked up McKenzie Macaroon, one of her bears from the “Confection Collection” dressed as a cookie. As she smoothed the fur on the teddy’s muzzle, she said, “But Jesse doesn’t know that. Couldn’t you reinterview him and let him think that he’ll be arrested if he doesn’t tell the truth?”
“You mean
lie
to him?” I feigned shock. “I’m shocked and saddened that you think your husband would be capable of such underhanded behavior.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And it’s also exactly what I’m going to suggest to Tina that we do.”
A trio of women approached the table, so all talk of murder ceased. Curiously, one of the ladies was instantly attracted to Bear-atio Caine. She picked the bear up and began to giggle. As we began to chat, she revealed that she was on vacation from her job in a crime lab in southern Florida. She also said that she and all her peers thought
CSI: Miami
was just about the funniest show on television. I was in the process of showing her all the different ways you could pose Bear-atio when my phone rang. The call was from Tina, so I excused myself as Ash took over for me.
I said, “Hi, Tina, you’re missing a great show. We’ve sold several of your bears.”
“I wish I were there. Please tell Ash thanks,” said Tina.
“I will. You got my message?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got other interesting news for you. Game Warden Randy Kent just called, and he’s got a lead on where we might find Chet Lincoln. We’re heading out to do a stakeout right now.”
“Here’s a Dick Tracy Crime Stopper tip: Don’t take Kitch with you.”
Tina chuckled. “I’d already figured that out. And I have some other info. I just got a fax from my friend at the crime lab.”
“Already?”
“It seems she stayed late last night to do the analysis. Anyway, we know what the stuff was that we found on the shaft of the arrow, although I don’t know how much it helps.”
“What is it?”
“The tiny bits of debris we found on the arrow’s shaft are dyed and processed cow leather.”
“Leather jacket? Boots? A belt?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of an archery glove. Randy told me that most of the bow hunters use them.”
“Did your friend have the chance to analyze the other trace evidence?” I asked.
“Yeah, and unfortunately the stuff on the blades of the broadhead isn’t so understandable. It’s a mixture of plywood and white plastic fragments.” In the background, I heard someone call Tina’s name. She said, “Sorry, Brad, we’ll talk more later. We’ve got to roll.”
“Be careful.”
I snapped the phone shut and saw that Ash had just sold Bear-atio to the criminalist from Florida. Ordinarily, I’d have been overjoyed that the bear was going to a good home, but all I could do was offer the woman a distracted “Thank you.” The information about the trace evidence on the arrowhead had given me the unpleasant feeling that I’d overlooked something vitally important at Rawlins’s farm.
Plywood and plastic on the blades suggested the arrow had possibly grazed or passed through a structure before skewering Rawlins, but that didn’t match what I remembered of the crime scene geography. I mentally replayed our examination of the homicide scene, keenly aware that I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy the fur fiesta until I figured out what I’d failed to notice at the crime scene.
Ash touched my shoulder, and I looked up to see that we were alone again. She said, “Honey, did Tina have bad news?”
“Sort of. The trace evidence on the arrow could mean we missed something at Rawlins’s place.” I went on to recount what Tina had told me.
When I finished, she said, “I see what you mean. You’d better go back out there and take a second look.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. Now that the initial rush is over, I can handle both tables.” Ash gestured toward the room, where the collectors were now making a more leisurely inspection of the exhibitors’ tables.
“Which I’m afraid you’d be doing anyway.” I stood up and gave her a kiss. “I’m going to be a basket case until I figure this out and I don’t want to
bruin
your day.”
However, my pace slowed as I made my way toward the door. There were hundreds of gorgeous teddy bears on display, and I reminded myself that Christmas was less than two months away. A boy bear and girl bear, posed as if holding hands, caught my eye and I had to stop at MaryAnn Wills’s table.