1 A Small Case of Murder (17 page)

BOOK: 1 A Small Case of Murder
9.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Admiral sat at attention. His eyes were focused on the banana his master was slicing into a bowl filled with ice cream.

“We need to take advantage of this, boy,” Joshua told his canine companion. “It isn’t every day we get the house to ourselves.”

After ladling the hot fudge sauce onto the ice cream, he licked the remnants left on the spoon. As a bribe to not beg for the delicacy, he offered Admiral a dog biscuit, which the dog seemed to swallow whole before following him into the living room.

One moment after Joshua sat back in his recliner to devour his sundae the doorbell rang. Muttering a curse, he put the ice cream on the coffee table with an order to Admiral not to touch it and trotted to the foyer.

Amber was leaning in the doorway. “I heard you were looking for me.”

She was dressed in black, as she had been on television. Even her fingernails, which were as long as daggers, were painted jet black. Her buzz cut hair was magenta. The tattoo of a black widow spider was visible on her right shoulder.

Her presence sent a chill down his spine like the one he had experienced when he had stepped into Vicki’s bedroom.

Before seeing her face-to-face, Joshua had thought she was little more than a teenager. Up close and personal, even with the heavy make-up, he saw that Amber wasn’t a teenager.

“Come in.” He opened the door to let her in.

“Tess said you wanted me.” She sauntered into the family home. When she draped her body across the end of the sofa, she dropped the shoulder adorned by the spider to let the strap of her top fall down her arm to reveal the top of a breast. “Is that true, Mr. Thornton? Do you want me?”

“From what I hear, I’m not your type.” Joshua picked up the sundae and excused himself to put his dessert into the freezer. “Have you lived in Chester your whole life, Amber?”

She followed him to the kitchen. “I’m not from Chester.”

“Where are you from then?” When he turned around after closing the freezer door, he was startled to find her body pressed against his. He eased her back.

She purred up into his face. “To answer your question, I’m from nowhere and everywhere.”

“I wanted to ask you about the murders.” He extracted her hands from his arms and forced her down into a chair at the kitchen table.

“About what?” She licked her black lips like a predator at the sight of a tasty prey.

Joshua fought to remember the subject at hand. “About Vicki’s murder. I heard that you two were very close.”

“I loved Vicki.”

“If that’s so, you would want to do everything you can to have her killer caught.” Placing the table between them, he sat across from her.

“Vicki’s dead.” The corner of her mouth curled.

“You don’t seem unhappy about that.”

“When you’re dead, you’re dead. There’s nothing you can do about it. She’s having a hell of a good time now.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Do you believe in evil, Joshua?”

Joshua directed her, “Let’s go back to the night of the murder. You said you were hiding in the closet.”

“Yes, I was.”

“In the master bedroom?”

She nodded.

“Was there a trench coat in the closet?”

“Should there have been?”

“You tell me,” he replied. “Was there a trench coat in the closet?”

Her expression was thoughtful. “Yes.”

“What color was it?” he asked her.

The corner of her mouth curled again. “Joshua, when was the last time you were with a real woman?”

“I’m asking the questions.”

“Tess told me your wife died. What’s it like to go all this time without having sex? Doesn’t it make you about burst wanting to thrust yourself into the soft folds of a woman who is wet for you?”

Joshua was aware of pressure on his crotch. “No!” He shot out of the chair and away from her foot that she had pressed against him under the table.

“I wanted to remind you how to have some fun.” She pounced on him. Her lips were on his.

He shoved her away and grabbed her hands, which were tearing at the zipper of his pants.

“You need me now, Josh.” She groped for him. “I’ll give it to you like you never had it before.”

Joshua shoved her to the back door. “This interview is over.”

“You can’t turn me away.” She dropped to the floor, so that he had to drag her to the door. “You said you’d protect me.”

“Get out!” He pushed her through the doorway and slammed the screen door.

Amber hurled herself at the screen like a bloodthirsty creature. “How dare you turn me away? No one turns me away! No one!”

Joshua slammed the door in her face and locked it.

Amber wailed like an animal. “I’ll get you for this, Joshua Thornton! Oh, yes, you’ll come for me! You’ll need me, and when you do, you’ll pay!”

“I can feel us getting into trouble.” Outnumbered twenty-five to one, Tracy’s objections weren’t noted.

It was the perfect night for breaking into a grave. The full moon caused eerie shadows to dance in the graveyard. Spooking each other, the teenagers shrieked with joy while car-rying out their caper.

The Thornton children hadn’t been as interested in seeing the valley as they were in seeing the former Bosley farm. After Tracy told Ken about the dead body her grandparents had discovered on their prom night, he and his friends were equally interested in showing the Thornton children where the Bosley barn used to be. They were in luck. One of Oak Glen’s foot-ball players lived there.

It didn’t take long after word got around amongst Chester’s younger generation that Ken Howard put together what looked like a tour group to check out the site of Chester’s most infamous disappearing body. By nightfall, the party had ended up at Locust Hill Cemetery. Upon finding an above ground crypt dated approximately the same timeframe that the body had disappeared, they decided to break in to answer their question: Had the killer hidden the body inside?

Tracy concluded the group was much too large and noisy to get away with a crime, even if it was under the cover of darkness. The guests at the impromptu party had been having too good a time to listen to her. She wished she had a way home to escape the trouble certain to come their way.

The teenagers, armed with tire irons, under J.J. and Murphy’s direction, went to work at breaking the seal around the lid of the crypt.

“Okay, I think we’ve got it,” the most muscular of the boys declared when the lid gave way.

“Great, Bull!” Sarah was armed with a high-powered flash-light. “Now, everyone lift up at once, and then I’ll look inside for the body.”

All the boys gathered around the heavy granite cover and pressed their fingers underneath. There were so many, they had to squeeze together to make room for all of them to fit around it.

J.J. counted off from one to three, and the team grunted when they hoisted the lid inches from its resting-place and shifted it off to the side.

Sarah pushed her way between J.J. and Bull to shine the flashlight into the crevice.

“Do you see anything?” J.J. grunted.

“I can’t—” Sarah started to say before she screamed. It wasn’t a small scream. It was an abrupt, high-pitched utterance that sounded like a small animal nabbed by a predator in the still of the night.

Sarah dropped the flashlight into the crypt. When she leapt away from the sight, she bumped into Bull, who fell against the fullback next to him. As a unit, the boys stumbled and dropped the lid to the ground.

The slab shattered into three chunks and a cloud of dust.

“Is now a good time to renew my protest?” Tracy called out to the group.

“Tracy,—” Murphy whirled around from where he had landed in a prickly bush to chastise his sister, but a flashlight beam blinded him.

“Everyone stay right where you are. Police.”

Joshua checked the time on his watch, and then looked up at his grandmother’s old anniversary clock on the mantle. They both read the same time. It was midnight, and he didn’t know where his children were.

“Time’s up,” Joshua said to Admiral, who was stretched out on the cool slate in front of the fireplace. The dog was snoring so loud that he couldn’t hear the announcement.

Joshua had picked up the phone when the doorbell interrupted his call to the police. When he saw Tad’s wicked grin, he knew that his cousin knew the whereabouts of his offspring.

“What have my kids done now?”

Chapter Fourteen

The cemetery was lit up like a carnival.

On the back of Tad’s motorcycle, Joshua rode up the twisting country road that led to the top of Locust Hill. When they pulled through the cemetery’s wrought iron gates, they found a mob of teenagers waiting for their parents behind the yellow police tape marking off the crime scene.

The medical examiner parked his motorcycle behind the morgue’s van at the end of the string of official vehicles woven throughout the graveyard. After whipping off his helmet and retrieving his medical examiner’s bag out of the travel compartment of his bike, Tad scurried under the tape to examine the main attraction of the show, the open crypt.

The first voice Joshua heard when he took off his helmet was Donny’s call from the mob. “There’s Dad! Dad!”

“Dad, we can explain,” Murphy’s voice rang out from amongst the group.

Joshua searched the sea of faces for those of his kids.

“Dad, wait until you hear what happened,” Sarah yelled over the others.

“Quiet!” Joshua screamed at the top of his lungs.

Everyone stopped speaking.

“I want everyone with the last name of Thornton to step forward. Now!”

After his children waded through the bodies to carry out his command, Joshua asked in a low voice, “What have you done?”

Spokesman J.J. took a deep breath. “Dad, you won’t believe it.”

“Try me.”

“We found the body.”

“You what?” Joshua gasped.

“The body Grandma and Grandpa found.” Murphy rushed on. “We decided to take a chance and check the above-ground crypt, because it was sealed about the same time they saw the body, and no one would ever look inside there. So we looked and—Guess what! We found a body.”

“A body inside a crypt? What a novel idea,” Joshua said with sarcasm. “That’s what crypts are made for. Of course, there’s a body in there.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Murphy said, “but since when do they bury bodies on top of coffins?”

Joshua peered through the darkness at the crypt. Now caught in the middle of police spotlights, it looked like the center stage of a horror show.

Squatting on the top edge of the crypt, Tad shone a high-powered flashlight into the crevice.

“Wait here.” Joshua took a couple of steps towards the crime scene, and then stopped to remind them that they were still in trouble. “Don’t any of you move.”

“Cool!” Tad rose to his feet to straddle the find while he focused his camera to photograph the body. Spotlights lit up the inside of the crypt.

“What have you got?” Joshua asked the medical examiner while stretching up to look over the edge.

“A dead body.” Tad continued snapping away with the camera.

Sprawled across the top of the casket, it resembled a rag doll tossed aside by its owner. Still attached to his scalp, its hair was short and black. He stared up at Joshua with eyes that’s eyeballs had decomposed decades ago.

When his flesh hardened into reddish brown leather in the mummification process it had pulled his jawbone down to open his mouth into a silent scream. His expression resembled one of horror that seemed to reflect his final moments when he saw whatever it was that put the gaping hole in his chest.

It was such an unbelievable sight that Joshua found it impossible to tear his eyes away from the lifeless form. He had to remind himself that it had once been a living breathing man like himself.

“Ever seen a real live mummy before?” Tad asked between shots of the body with his camera. He admired the corpse with the enthusiasm of a child. “He’s perfect. The conditions must have been perfect for mummification. If he was killed about the time Aunt Claire and Uncle Johnny found him, it was spring and probably warm for the whole season. This crypt was airtight. No humidity got in to cause decomposition. No bugs got in to eat away at his flesh. It was like the pyramids in Egypt.”

After he squeezed his frame into the crypt, Tad patted the granite walls with evidence gloved hands. “This was built when they did things right. Yep, I’m going to have to get me one of these here babies for when I bite the big one.”

Joshua found his voice. “Is there any way you’re going to be able to tell when he was killed?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that question?”

Joshua started at the sound of Sheriff Curtis Sawyer’s voice. He had come up to lean against the crypt next to him.

“Is this going to be a common occurrence with your kids?” the sheriff asked.

“No, sir,” he answered with certainty.

“What interest do you have in when this body expired?” the sheriff looked from Joshua to Tad while the two cousins exchanged glances.

Tad proceeded to search the man’s suit pockets for identification.

“Common curiosity, sheriff,” Joshua said.

“No wallet or identification,” Tad told them, “but I do have something.” He removed a folded up magazine clipping from the inside breast pocket of the man’s suit and held it up to the flashlight beam. He slipped the article into an evidence envelope and wrote on the label before handing it to the sheriff.

Joshua read the headline over the sheriff’s shoulder. “How interesting,” he breathed.

It was an article, dated February 16, 1963, about the dedication of Reverend Orville Rawlings’ new church in New Cumberland, West Virginia.

Joshua Thornton’s children were lined up in the hallway outside the sheriff’s office in New Cumberland. Their friends had been sent home with their parents. Tad had escorted the body to the state police forensics lab in Weirton to be examined by the medical examiner, who was more adept at handling mummified bodies.

Meanwhile, the Thornton kids waited in straight back chairs against the wall outside Sheriff Sawyer’s office on the ground floor of the courthouse. Their father was inside talking to the sheriff about what they couldn’t be sure. They guessed it was about them.

Inside the sheriff’s office, which rivaled Wallace Rawlings’ office in dinginess, Curtis Sawyer read the article found in the body’s pocket and a copy of Lulu Jefferson’s letter. The clip-ping included a picture of Reverend Rawlings posing in front of his new church building

Sitting across from the sheriff’s desk, Joshua explained, “The reason I didn’t come to you with this sooner was because one, I knew Sheriff Delaney would have made no record of this body being found in April of ’63. Two, there was no way to prove they did find a body because it disappeared before anyone else saw it. At the time, Delaney accused them of a false alarm.”

“How can you prove that this is the same body your parents and Lulu Jefferson found? They’re dead now.”

“But Rick Pendleton is still alive,” Joshua reminded him.

“Even if it was well preserved, I’m sure that body doesn’t look anything like it did when Rick Pendleton saw it.”

“Circumstantial evidence is strong enough to suggest that it’s the same body,” Joshua argued. “That article is dated only two months before my parents and Lulu Jefferson and Rick Pendleton saw it. Pendleton said that the body had a chest wound. So does this body. This body was found only five hundred yards from where the old Bosley barn used to be, which is where the body in ‘63 was found. That crypt was sealed in April 1963. How much do you want to bet it was the day after my parents found the body? The high school should have a record of when their prom was in 1963, and the funeral home should have a record of when that funeral was held. The killer probably hid the body in the barn with the intention of dumping him inside the crypt after the funeral, before it was sealed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to go on?”

“No.” Sheriff Sawyer placed both pieces of paper in a manila folder.

“Do you have any leads on the mail bomb sent to Tad?”

“No, but I will,” the sheriff answered. “The feds are saying that it wasn’t complicated. Whoever built it very well could have put the thing together by information gathered on the Internet. We’re looking at anyone and everyone.”

“Wally Rawlings is anyone and everyone,” Joshua said. “He has no experience in the military or with explosives, but he’s smart enough that he could build a bomb if he got good enough instructions.”

“Why would he want to kill Doc MacMillan?”

Joshua refrained from mentioning Tad’s affair with Wally’s missing mistress. Instead, he said, “Because Wally’s late wife was in love with Tad. She told Tad the very day she died that she believed Wally was poisoning her.”

Sheriff Sawyer said, “But Doc Wilson ruled her death as natural causes, and that was a decade ago. Why would Rawlings care now?”

Joshua lost his train of thought at the mention of Dr. Wilson and Wally Rawlings in the same breath. It occurred to him what had happened four years earlier. Now, it made sense.

“Thornton? Are you still on this planet?”

Joshua started. “Can you get me a copy of the police report on the post office break-in and the break-in here at the courthouse? Both occurred in the same week four years ago.”

“I probably will have trouble with the post office break-in,” the sheriff said. “We’re talking federal territory there. They like to keep things close to the vest. I can get you our file. Can I ask why?”

“I’m working on a theory.” Energized to see the pieces coming together in his head, Joshua added, “I also need for you to get me any information you can from missing persons in Steubenville about two women and a girl, last name Hitchcock, who disappeared four years ago. The detective assigned to the case closed it as presumed dead.”

“Who the hell are the Hitchcocks and what are you looking for?” Sheriff Sawyer’s tone held an annoyed note.

“A source told me that Monica Hitchcock was Wally’s mistress and that she had his baby. Then, suddenly, out of the blue, she disappears. A witness stated that they were on that plane to Chicago that crashed in Pittsburgh. I want to know if the Steubenville police have any proof that they were on that flight.”

“I don’t recall Wally Rawlings ever being a suspect in any murder or missing person’s investigation.”

“That isn’t the only reason I want to know what the police have on this case.” Joshua reminded him, “Did you hear me say that Monica Hitchcock had Wally’s baby? Translation, that baby is Vicki’s half sister.”

The sheriff added, “And DNA says that the strand of red hair on the murder weapon came from Vicki’s half sister.”

“That’s why I want proof that Alexis Hitchcock is dead. If that’s not available, I want to know where she is and what she’s doing now.”

“You’re good, Thornton.” Sheriff Sawyer stood up and stuck out his chest. “You continue working on your theories, but I hope you don’t mind if I continue working on my own agenda.”

“You keep right on doing that.” Joshua shook his hand. “I promise my children won’t get in the way again.”

The sheriff warned him, “I hope not. I’d hate for them to get hurt. I consider curiosity a virtue. At least, it is in my business. But if it’s not harnessed, it can get you into trouble.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Maybe you might want to find something else to take their minds off these bodies that seem to keep turning up.” Sheriff Sawyer stated in a stern tone. “I understand that you recently lost your wife. I’d hate for you to lose one or more of your kids, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Joshua assured him. “I’ll make sure no harm comes to them.”

“I’m not the one who needs to worry.”

Other books

Gun Street Girl by Adrian McKinty
Deadly Nightshade by Daly, Elizabeth
Birds of a Feather by Jacqueline Winspear
The Blackmail Baby by Natalie Rivers
Predator (Copper Mesa Eagles Book 1) by Roxie Noir, Amelie Hunt