Murders on the Edge

by Andie Alexander

  Chapter 28

  On the third plot, when my hand began to bleed because of a sore from the shovel, Chris looked up at me. “Go inside.”

  I wiped the sweat off my forehead and the blood off my hand. “Why?”

  “You don’t look that great. Besides, someone needs to answer the phones.”

  “When we’re done. I’m not letting you alone with moodiness over there.”

  “You got that right. What’s up with him today?”

  “He seemed upset about the hooker who was killed. Did Archie ever find out who did it?”

  “No. I think they’re looking into that today.” Chris stuck his shovel in the ground. “I keep hitting those sprinklers. How many of them are around here, anyway?”

  “Tons. I know what you mean. I think we’re to move them then they’ll be reset later. I need to find out when these funerals are being held.” I checked my watch. “It’s nearly nine now. I want to stay out here with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to be alone, either.”

  While ignoring the pain in my hand, we kept digging, finishing the fourth hole when the door to the mortuary opened and an older man walked out to the cemetery. “Mr. Moody. I need to talk to you.”

  Mr. Moody was busy with the backhoe and ignored the old man. “I’ll go,” I said to Chris.

  “Good. You need to get out of the sun. Junior isn’t happy, I can tell.”

  Yeah. Right. I grinned at him.

  I waved to the guy. “I’ll be right there. Go inside and wait.”

  The man left, and I trudged back toward the mortuary. Along the way, Chris grabbed my shovel and joined me, walking back inside. “I can’t let you out of my sight.”

  “Fine, but I need a shower,” I said to him.

  “Yeah. I think that would be a good lunchtime activity for us.”

  “Not together,” I muttered to his laughter.

  “Party pooper,” he whispered.

  I entered the front room, where the old man stood beside a younger man of maybe twenty years of age.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, grabbing a bandage from the drawer.

  “We need to see Mr. Moody,” the older man said.

  “I’m his receptionist, grave digger, and toe tagger.” I hated this job. “I can help you.” I sat down at the front desk and looked up at him while sticking the bandage over the sore. It looked very nasty.

  The young man smiled at me. “I’m Tilvin Nilly and I’m here to report that someone died at the copper mines. This is the closest mortuary, so we came here when no one answered the phone.”

  So this was Tilvin. “Sorry about that. We were marking graves. We have four funerals today.”

  “Four? So it’s a slow day?” Tilvin said, almost laughing.

  Chris walked out of the back room. He handed me a bottle of water and sat beside me. “What’s going on?” Chris asked me.

  “There’s a dead body at the copper mines,” I said. “This is Tilvin Nilly.” I nodded toward the younger man.

  Chris’ eyes staying on mine. “I see.” He turned to Tilvin. “So who are you, Tilvin?”

  “You don’t know me?” Tilvin asked. “I’m the mayor’s son. Everyone knows me. I work over at the copper mines.”

  “Oh,” Chris said. “Sorry. I’m new to town.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” the old man said to Chris. “We never get newcomers to this town.”

  “Me? I lived up in Albuquerque and wanted to see the mountains down here. I figured I could live near the mountains and get the photographs to make me a mint.”

  “Oh, a gold digger,” the old man said.

  Chris smiled. “Yep. I also met a girl up in Hachita and she wants to relocate down here, so I’m looking for a house to buy. Do you know of any?”

  “There are new houses being built a few blocks north of here, but they’re not in the city limits,” Tilvin said. “There will be no more building in the city.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because we don’t have the water for any more houses,” he said. “Now, can you guys help us get this dead body from the copper mines?”

  “I think the coroner has to pronounce him dead first,” Chris said. “But we can take care of that. Just cover the body for now, and we’ll be out in a little bit to pick it up.”

  “Good,” the old man said, turning toward the door. “I own the place and never have I had someone just keel over from a heart attack before.”

  I hopped to my feet. “How do you know it’s a heart attack?”

  The old man scoffed. “Everyone dies of a heart attack around here. Don’t you know that?” He and Tilvin walked out the door.

  I sat down in the chair beside Chris, drinking the water. I was certain Tilvin had something to do with the man’s death.

  Chris lifted the phone and dialed. “Jim, it’s Chris. Someone had a heart attack at the copper mines and they need a coroner.” He glanced over at me. “Yes, but we’re both tired. We’ve been digging graves.” He said a few other one-word affirmative answers then hung up the phone. “We’re to meet him at the copper mines with Mr. Moody and the hearse. Jim wants to see you.”

  “Me? What for?”

  “I think he wants to have a tête-à-tête on the rocks or something.” Chris laughed and stood up.

  “Very funny.”

  Mr. Moody came in the back door so I walked back to talk to him while he washed his hands. “Tilvin Nilly and the owner of the copper mines were here,” I said. “There’s a dead body at the mines, and they think he died of a heart attack.”

  “Call Dr. Henry,” he said. “We’ll go pick him up.”

  “Chris already called,” I said. “Dr. Henry’s on his way.”

  “I’ll need help from both of you. Those bodies aren’t light.” He lifted the keys from a hook on the wall and we all went out to the hearse. After loading a body bag into the back, I crawled into the back of the front cab, while Chris sat in the front passenger’s seat. Chris made small talk along the way, while I tried to listen.

  “So, is the land good for growing things out here?” Chris asked. “My girlfriend wants to have a garden if we get married.”

  Mr. Moody glanced toward Chris. “I wouldn’t advise it. I wouldn’t advise even eating the food here. There’s runoff from Grande Mesas here. I drive up to Hachita to get my groceries.”

  “But Grande Mesas is away from here, right?” Chris asked.

  “Only thirty miles, as the crow flies. Nope, it’s still in the soil. That’s bad stuff down there, and we’ve gotten some of the winds up here. I’m sure that’s why there are so many heart attacks in this area.”

  Not even close, I wanted to say.

  “Is that right?” Chris asked. “So do you think it’s a stupid move to buy a house down here?”

  “Yes, I do, and I’d get away as fast as possible.” Mr. Moody glanced toward Chris. “There’s shady things going on in this town and the townsfolk are paying the price.”

  “What sort of shady things?” Chris asked.

  “You know, the partying. That’s not planned by the town. It just happens, and I know why.”

  “Why?” Chris seemed so nonchalant, I almost believed him. “I mean, it’s just a party, right?”

  “If you stay here any length of time, you’ll see what I mean. That’s all I can say.” He shut his mouth and I saw Chris pull down his visor in front of him and flip open the mirror. He shot me a glance and I nodded. I knew what he was saying.

  I sat up a bit. “Mr. Moody, I was affected by that partying stuff. What happened to me?”

  “You were affected?” he asked. “But you haven’t been here long enough.”

  “It lasted a while, and even last night, I was feeling the effects of something.”

  “I heard some people talking this morning at the diner and they said they had low blood sugar.” He sighed as if angry. “That’s never happened before.”

  �
��What affected me?” I asked him.

  “I can’t say. I’ve been sworn to secrecy and if I say anything, I’ll be killed, too. That’s what happened to Alana.” He wiped a tear. “She was the prostitute who died over the weekend. She opened her mouth and threatened to go to the authorities.” He glanced into the rearview mirror. “But you heard nothing from me.”

  “Who killed her?” I asked.

  “Bad people. That’s all you need to know. They don’t like people talking, and if they know I’ve been talking, I’ll be next.” He reached down and turned on the music, playing funeral dirges. That man loved his work a little bit too much.

  Chapter 29

  We arrived at the Denning Copper and Silver mines, about fifteen miles west of Señora Bonita. It was nearly ten in the morning, and the day was heating up already. Chris and I were sweaty, but Mr. Moody never seemed to sweat. It was as if the walking dead didn’t have sweat glands.

  Tilvin met the hearse, ushering us inside the main building. “It’s air conditioned in here, so we moved the body.”

  “You can’t move the body,” Mr. Moody said. “That’s against the law. The coroner has to declare the guy dead first.”

  “We had to move him in order to keep working.”

  “Who’s the guy?” Chris asked.

  “My dad’s neighbor, Homer.” He pulled back the sheet, and there was the guy from Saturday night, who’d enjoyed a foursome with Willy Nilly and his wife, Billie.

  I stared up at Tilvin’s face, looking for any sign of grief. But there was none. He didn’t even seem to care there was a dead body lying in front of him. “Did you know the guy?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I didn’t like him.” He pulled the sheet back over Homer’s face, yanked on his hard hat, and walked away.

  Jim entered the building holding his doctor bag. He stopped to talk to the owner and then headed toward us with the owner right beside him. When he took one look at me, his smile disappeared. He shook his head, glanced down at my stomach, and back up at my face.

  “Yes, sir,” Jim said to the owner. “I’ll make this quick. I know you need to get your people back to work.”

  The old guy walked away.

  “I need a ruling,” Mr. Moody said.

  “Yep.” Jim opened the doctor bag and pulled out his stethoscope. Chris pulled me back from the body, so Jim could do his work.

  “You’re in trouble,” Chris whispered to me.

  “I saw that. Back me up, please?”

  “I’ll try, but you know Jim. He’s not happy. It’s probably because you look exhausted.”

  “I know that, too.” I looked around the room before approaching Mr. Moody. “Do you know if there’s a bathroom around here?”

  “Sure.” He pointed to a door on the far side. “I’ve had a lot of people die here. I think they were considering giving me an office of my own.”

  I shot Chris a glance then went into the bathroom. Once inside, I shut the door and glanced into the mirror. I looked horrible. My face was sunburned, I looked tired, and if I were Jim, I’d be pulling me out and putting me to sleep, permanently.

  I threw some water on my face and dried it, hoping I looked at least a little bit better. When I got to a real home, I was going to start exercising. Hiding out in a small room for six months had taken its toll.

  “Jane, are you in there?” It sounded like Jim, right outside the door. I couldn’t be so lucky.

  “Yep. I’ll be out in a minute.” I tried to keep as happy as possible, because it sounded like he definitely wasn’t.

  “Hurry up. I need to talk to you.”

  I opened the door and threw him a grin.

  “You’re tired,” he said.

  “Not really. I was digging up graves this morning.”

  “Digging graves…no woman of mine…” He looked around, seeing if anyone was listening, and pulled me to the side. “You’re coming back with me. I’m deeming you unfit for work today.”

  “But I have to be there,” I whispered.

  “Yeah. I forgot. Ride back with me and I’ll drop you off at the mortuary. You’ll work, inside for a while, and then I’ll pick you up for lunch. We’ll eat back at the house. Deal?”

  “I guess so. I don’t have a lot of choice, do I?”

  “Nope. I own you,” he whispered. “Remember that.”

  I lifted one eyebrow. “So I’m your slave?”

  “Except for cooking…hmmm…we’ll see.” He touched my cheek. “You’re overheated. Get in the car right now.”

  “Yes, sir.” I hung my head and trudged toward the door.

  “You know I care about you, right?” he whispered, keeping pace with me.

  “Yes, I know.”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “And I’m only doing this for your wellbeing.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So why are you upset?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Nope.” I went out to his car and got into the passenger’s seat while he talked to Mr. Moody. He came outside, watching me the whole time. After running the wand over the inside of the car to hunt for listening devices, he got into the driver’s seat, turned on the car, and flipped on the air conditioning, pointing all the vents at me.

  “That’s a little cold,” I said.

  “Better for me.” He glanced toward my chest.

  I crossed my arms. “Very funny. So is Mr. Moody going to fire me?”

  “No. I told him you needed to drive back with me, so I could keep an eye on you. I didn’t like the way your pasty skin hung off your face, and if you weren’t well and he was overworking you, I’d call the sheriff on him.”

  “Threatening my boss? Do you think that’ll work?”

  “Yep. He doesn’t want me on his bad side. He knows I can take him apart in a heartbeat. Now spill it. What’s going on?”

  “Mr. Moody knows what’s happening in town, but he’s scared to talk. Whoever killed the hooker is wrapped up in the answer. The hooker knew something and was killed because of it.”

  “I bet Chris can pry more out of the man when you’re not there.”

  I shook my head. “No. Chris is playing someone who wants to buy a house down here, but not invested like I am. I was affected by the drugs and could ask more direct questions. I need to be with Mr. Moody. He said the hooker, Alana, was killed because she threatened to go to the authorities. Bad people killed her and Moody’s worried for his life.”

  “I wonder who Mr. Moody is hanging out with. Hey, did you see him on Saturday night at all?”

  “No, and if you remember, you had to call him at home.”

  “Yeah. That’s very odd. He was with you most of the day on Saturday, yet he wasn’t at the party.”

  “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t affected. Maybe he had a date with someone.”

  “Is the guy married?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, turning the vents toward Jim. “But I’m really cold.”

  He moved the vents toward the middle of the car and away from both of us. “Better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I crossed my arms, happy to be a little bit warmer. “Are you busy today?”

  “Yeah. Six people showed up with some sort of rash on their arms. Do you have a rash?”

  I turned my arms and examined them in every way possible. “Nope.”

  “The dead guy didn’t, either,” Jim said.

  “I have a question. If Alana was killed by a bad guy, and Archie’s bringing Vlad in as a suspect, could he really charge him instead of just making something up?”

  “That’s a great question. I wonder about that.”

  “Where did they find Alana?”

  “In her car, right near the mortuary. She was dead, sitting in her front seat. Damon was going to see if there are any fingerprints or anything that might indicate who did it.”

  “If Vlad’s an illegal, they won’t match any known fingerprints.” I looked out the side window. �
�However, if he’s speeding, for example, or doing something illegal, you can get his fingerprints and compare them, and act like he has a record. It would be a lie, and eventually a mistake, but at least you’d be able to detain him.”

  “Or if we have an eyewitness that he did it. Do you think Mr. Moody would be an eyewitness for us?”

  “Nope. He’s scared.”

  “But we do have an eyewitness for a crime,” Jim said. “Didn’t you say the dark-eyed man saw you after dropping off that dog?”

  I snapped my fingers. “You’re right. He was committing a dognapping. Good job. Tell Archie.”

  Jim pulled up to the back of the mortuary. “I will.” He leaned over to me and gave me a kiss. “That’s for you and Junior.”

  “Right. Little Junior’s hungry and there aren’t any cookies there today.”

  “I’m glad they’re gone, but just hang in there. It’s almost lunchtime and I’ll send crackers back with you for the afternoon after we eat.”

  “We drank bottled water at the mortuary.”

  “Who gave you that?” Jim asked, seeming annoyed.

  “Chris. It was tough work, and the water was bottled somewhere else.”

  He sighed, blowing out the huge breath. “Great. Two of you crazy tonight.”

  “If the drugs are in the bottled water.” I got out of the car. “See you later.” I entered the mortuary and waited for Chris and Mr. Moody to return.

  It was quiet for about two minutes when Willy Nilly ran into the building. “I want to know what happened.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “What happened to Homer? I can’t have him die on me.”

  “I’m not sure, but I think he had a heart attack in the mines. Your son was in here—”

  “My son? Tilvin was here?”

  “Yes, he was,” I said. “He and the owner were here to tell Mr. Moody to come get the body after the doctor declared him dead.”

  Willy didn’t look very happy. “I needed Homer. Can we still use his body—” He seemed to think twice. “Never mind.” His gaze went toward the stairs. “Is Shirley in?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been digging graves and went to the mines.”