Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight (12 page)

“First, let’s check the house and make sure no one’s in there. We kind of bypassed it,” Tony said. “And now I think I’d like to hear how and why you found her body?”

“Kirk, over at the convenience store, complained about her radio playing day and night, loud, heavy metal stuff.” Wade paused, as if just noticing the silence. Only a few birds chattering overhead and the sound of cars moving on the highway disturbed the peace.

Tony felt his eyebrows rise.

Wade stood still, looking at the ground, obviously deep in thought. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “Wow, I forgot. When I got here I followed the screeching music and found an orange extension cord plugged into the exterior outlet on the side of the house.” He gestured to the spot. “I pulled the plug and the music stopped. I followed the cord to the greenhouse because I wanted to tell Candy to hold it down. I never saw the radio.”

Relieved that his deputy recalled the incident, Tony studied the outlet. “The radio might be inside the greenhouse. I didn’t notice it. We can solve one mystery anyway.” Tony and Wade followed the cord and quickly located the radio, on a stump, hidden by a shrub. “I’d like you to check for fingerprints on this too.”

Wade nodded and wrote himself a note.

They walked to the front of the house and found the door was locked. Everything looked normal. Tony had hoped the killer, if Candy’s death wasn’t an accident, had left the weapon on the porch with a note of confession. A man could dream. The porch needed sweeping. Months, if not years, of mud tracked onto the porch had dried. There was a mixture of red clay and brown garden soil. Signs of frequent use, but no obviously new footprints stood out from the others. There could be some nevertheless. “Let’s look in the windows.”

So they went from window to window, looking inside. Nothing moved. No footprints were pressed into the ground under the windows. When they reached the back porch, they immediately saw the screen door was ajar and so was the interior door.

“What do you think?” Wade released his sidearm from its holster.

Tony did the same. “I don’t think anyone’s in there, but I’m not taking any chances either. Getting shot for being stupid is not a good plan.”

As carefully as they could, trying not to smudge any possible fingerprints, they eased into Candy’s kitchen. The smell of rotting meat hit them. A glance at the countertop showed them an open package of ground meat. And maggots. Another sign this was not a crime committed in the past few minutes.

“Gross,” Wade whispered. “I hate maggots.”

Tony nodded. “It looks like she was preparing to cook something and then died. Why did she go outside?” He was murmuring to himself as they studied their options. The pantry door hung open, exposing bags of potato chips, corn chips, all kinds of chips; if they could be sliced and fried, Candy had owned a bag of it. Chips seemed to be the only food stored in the pantry besides toaster pastries. Next to the pantry was a wide opening into the dining room. There was no door. It was go ahead or back out. They eased forward. No one. Clearing room after room, they checked them all. They climbed the stairs. The rooms were messy and dirty, but void of people.

On up to the attic. Unlike the chaos and clutter in the rest of the house, Tony guessed no one had been up here since Candy’s parents died. There were a few items—a stack of things from Alvin’s childhood, an old bassinet, a few boxes, a pitiful artificial Christmas tree, and a stereo system from another era. No people. No signs there had been anyone up here recently. The only footprints in the dust belonged to a mouse, and they were not fresh. Tony checked the temperature and said, “Let’s go outside.”

Wade did not argue.

Grace arrived minutes later, looking cool and well groomed. Her glossy brown hair with its gleaming red and gold highlights was pulled up into a knot, and her khaki slacks and white blouse were neatly ironed. Her crisp appearance lasted about thirteen seconds. Once she was inside the greenhouse, her clothes became sweat soaked, and her latex gloves filled with enough saltwater to make a barnacle happy.

Tony thought he should have used a stopwatch to see how fast she wilted, although he probably wouldn’t have been able to push the buttons fast enough. He held the thermometer near the upper reaches of the greenhouse. One hundred and forty-eight. “Damn.” He was soaked from the skin out himself.

Grace was a trooper though. While Wade’s camera clicked incessantly, she measured the liver temperature and made a cursory examination of the body. “The back of her skull feels soft, like it’s cracked.”

“From the fall?”

“No way.” Grace wiped the sweat pouring off her face with the side of her arm. “I can feel an indentation with my finger. It had to be something like a pipe or a tire iron. Wielded with a great deal of force.” She leaned closer, shining her flashlight on the dirt under Candy’s head. “It looks like blood might have seeped into the dirt. I’d say a lot of blood. You know how head wounds bleed. It’s so much darker than the dirt farther away from her body. I don’t think she died immediately.”

Tony leaned over to look at what Grace was seeing. “I’ll be interested to learn if she could have been saved with prompt medical attention.”

Grace agreed. “Do you see anything she might have been hit with?”

The three of them studied the ground in the greenhouse, the garden area, and looked for something obvious they could see without trampling the evidence more than they already had. Nothing. Not even a trowel.

“Whoever hit her took the weapon, whatever it was, away.” Wade stated the obvious and Tony and Grace nodded.

“Premeditated?” Tony wondered aloud. “Or calm enough to think afterwards? I wonder where Alvin keeps his garden tools. Did anyone see a shed or a box?”

None one had.

The recent assaults on others bore a striking similarity to this scene. Tony grimaced at his mental pun. He looked at Wade. “This remind you of anything?”

“You mean our citizen wounded by an unknown attacker and then the hitchhiker knocked out on the highway and left there? Absolutely.” Wade made a pounding gesture. “If Not Bob had been as small as Candy, he’d probably be dead too.”

“I don’t think we should assume Not Bob’s attacker killed Candy. There’re too many obvious differences.”

“Besides her being a female, and therefore unlikely to be named Bob?” Grace threw in her comment.

“Yes.” Tony flashed Grace a smile, even as he looked carefully about, searching for anything that might catch his eye. “Plus, it’s probably five miles to Ruby’s from here. What are the odds our tool guy would drastically change his hunting ground?”

“Probably not good. It could be a copycat though,” Wade said. “Are we calling in the TBI?”

Tony considered the question. There would be evidence on the body. Maybe the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation could find some footprints in the area, if he and Wade hadn’t already destroyed them. He had a small department. He hated to call for help if he didn’t really need it.

“No offense, Grace, but I think I’ll have someone else do the autopsy.” Tony called for the ambulance to come fetch Candy and deliver her to a pathologist in Knoxville.

Grace exhaled sharply. “I was about to insist the same thing. Just like with the surfer, you need someone trained to measure the skull depression and do a toxicology screen. I’m a physician, so I can declare someone deceased, but Doc Nash can’t make me the coroner. Plus, even if I could, I’d hate to screw it up and let someone get away with murder.”

“Wade?” Hearing the “M” word spoken out loud gave Tony a jolt.

“I agree,” Wade said. “I can certainly do the camera work and fingerprints. I’ve had the training for those, but you might want someone else to do tire tracks and footprints.”

“Okay, it’s nice we’re all in agreement. Let’s get some help.” Tony punched a single number into his cell phone. After a brief conversation, Tony disconnected. “The TBI will be here in about three hours. Grace, you can leave now instead of waiting until Candy’s been collected. The less we disturb the scene, the better our associates will like it.”

“Well, I’m guess I’m off now.” Scarlet-faced and perspiring, Grace managed a smile. “Y’all have fun. I’ll think of you while I’m taking a nice cool shower and having a nice glass of sweet tea before returning to my patients.”

Wade gave his wife an almost-amused smile. “You are a cruel, cruel woman.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “The truth is closer to a quick shower and endless apologies to my patients for making them wait for an extended time.”

Following Grace into the sweltering, but unpolluted, air, Tony and Wade paused, sucking deep breaths of fresh air into their lungs. Tony heard Wade continuing to give a running commentary into his radio. It sounded like he was trying to convince Rex to come out and smell it for himself. Tony handed his deputy the roll of crime scene tape, and they headed away from the house and back to work.

At first Tony thought the little building encased in a honeysuckle vine might be an old privy. It was so well covered, draped with the tenacious and heavily scented flowers, that he and Wade had walked past it without seeing there was a door. At least twice. The wood might be antique, but the padlock was modern. It dangled through the hasp. The key was in the lock. Tony eased the door open. It was cool inside and smelled like good clean dirt. A wheelbarrow leaned against one wall. Clean and neatly arranged garden tools, small and large, hung on hooks. Three of the larger hooks were empty. Tony really wanted to know what kinds of tools were supposed to be there.

And where they had gone.

Tony thought he could predict what the TBI unit would have to say when they arrived. He was right on every count.

“Hey, Wade,” Vince, supervisor and lead investigator, called out as he climbed from the specially configured vehicle, a combination storage locker and laboratory. Two more men and a woman joined him. “Why do you stay in the crime capital of the state? Can’t you get a job in a safer county?”

Wade just shook his head. “I’m never bored.”

Tipping his chin down, Vince glanced over the top of his glasses in Tony’s direction. “Job security, Tony. You’re my job security. As long as you keep your job, mine is safe.” Even as he started pulling out bags and boxes for evidence collection, he kept up a running commentary on Tony’s personal crime wave. “However, I would appreciate having some better working conditions though. What is it? Like a hundred degrees and ninety-nine percent humidity out here today?”

Tony grinned. “You’re going to love the kitchen and the greenhouse. At least the attic, where I estimated the temperature at two hundred degrees, is clear. Only something small with wings could have moved around in there.” As miserable as he was in his uniform and vest, he imagined the crime scene costume would be like being sealed in a portable steam room. “Come right this way.”

All merriment stopped abruptly as the unit began working their way through the house and greenhouse and yard, collecting samples. Everyone was aware of the serious nature of their job. Doing their work properly could mean the difference between catching a killer and letting one run free.

Tony entertained himself by making notes of his own. What he saw, what he smelled. Who he saw drive by. Who parked at the store and watched from there. Who looked grim and who looked pleased. Although there had been no official news released, there were three houses with neighbors who undoubtedly reported to at least one other person, and so on. He’d be shocked if there were three adults in the county who had not already received word of Candy’s death.

“Sheriff?” one of the TBI’s younger investigators waved from the back of the house. “You asked specifically about garden tools?”

“Did you find some?” Tony walked closer but saw nothing.

“Stashed under here.” The investigator lifted a chunk of prefab lattice away from one side of the raised porch.

Sure enough, an untidy pile of tools—a hoe, rake, and spade—all jumbled together, looked like they had been shoved under there to hide them. Tony had spent enough time with Alvin to know the boy was not responsible for this mess. “Alvin.” He spoke the name aloud.

“You think someone named Alvin put these here?”

“No. I don’t. I just remembered that I need to notify him. Our victim is his mother. You might want to examine those tools first.” Tony frowned, even as he pulled out his cell phone. If anyone would know how to contact Alvin, it would be his own aunt. Martha was Alvin’s landlady and friend. Tony punched in the number. Thankfully, Martha answered right away. Tony started to explain when she interrupted.

“I was wondering when you’d call.” Martha lowered her voice. “We heard about it hours ago.”

“How?” But he knew. Within seconds of the call for the ambulance, not to mention Dr. Grace leaving her office, the rumors would have begun. “I need to tell Alvin about his mom. He sure doesn’t need to hear it on the news. Did he leave you his contact information?”

“Yes, yes.”

Tony heard the sounds of rummaging and finally, “Here’s the number.” Martha rattled off a series of numbers. “He told me he probably won’t have his phone turned on. You can call the front desk. That’s the second number I gave you.”

“Thanks, Martha.” Tony said. “I think I should drive up there and tell him in person. It’s not the kind of thing a boy should learn on the phone, much less from a message left with a stranger.”

“You call me when you get back, and let me know how he’s doing and if he needs anything.” Martha sniffled. “That poor boy.”

Tony agreed and disconnected the call.

The ambulance arrived and parked on the crowded driveway. Tony told the ambulance crew that it could be hours before the body would be ready to transport. He signed his name on every form to insure the proper chain of custody.

And so, having signed over the body, and leaving Wade to help or answer questions for the TBI, Tony drove to plant camp.

The classroom at Theo’s shop was abuzz with excitement. Candy Tibbles murdered! The announcement had come from a quilter who had heard about it when she stopped to get gas at Kwik Kirk’s. Someone else said the woman was killed in her own bed, sending a chill of fear through the room. The woman possessed even less information than Theo herself, but if the facts were wrong, who knew? If Candy could be murdered, couldn’t any of them be murdered too? No wonder Tony called her shop “gossip central.”