"Oh, come on, Elsie. Even you have to admit you are not the roll with it type. If you want my honest opinion, I think if you relaxed a little about Les's diet, let him have a few splurges now and then, both of you would be a lot happier. And I think the diet would be more successful." I forged bravely ahead, even beneath her scowl. "There, I've said my piece. You know I love you both, and I just want to help."
Her scowl melted into a sort of resolute frown. "I suppose you're right about that. He's such a stubborn man, but I'm worried about his health."
"I know you are, Elsie. You're a good sister. Just ease up a little. I think Les might get used to the idea of eating healthier."
Just then, over the loudspeaker, Terry announced that there were still free root beer floats.
I clapped Elsie on the shoulder. "And on that note, I'm going to step off my advice and healthy eating soapbox and go grab one of those root beer floats. That way I'll have energy to help you carry stuff back to the car."
Chapter 10
Terry was auctioning off the sunflower arrangements from the stage. I was pleased to see that people were anxious to win them. They were beautiful, and the summer sun had not caused too much wilt yet. On a side table near the stage, there were still about ten root beer floats to choose from. I took an embarrassing amount of time picking one. The most froth and ice cream was a priority. I grabbed my refreshment and stood under some shade to enjoy it. There was a flurry of activity in the park.
Competitors were packing up and portable dog kennels were being broken down into their easier to transport sizes. Avery still wore the stiff look of anger and disappointment as she handed Barrett a crate of grooming supplies to fit into the jigsaw puzzle in the backseat. Barrett, like most men, took his job of packing the space behind the passenger seat seriously, making sure everything fit properly. He also needed to leave room for himself, and he was not a small man. The Cramptons were folding up their portable kennel into flat pieces, while Hamilton and Caprese finished a bowl of food. Everyone looked anxious to leave.
I glanced around for Melody, wondering if she'd ever found Ellen or if she was still wandering the grounds with Pebbles. I didn't see her anywhere and made the assumption that she found Ellen and went back to her own trailer to pack up for the day.
It was a particularly good root beer float. The paper cup emptied quickly. (In my defense, it was a kid sized cup.) I left my nice spot of shade and headed to a nearby trashcan. As I dropped the cup inside, a scream shot out over the park. People's faces popped up and most stopped what they were doing. Another scream, this one coupled with a panicked cry for help, sent me at a run. Other people followed but with some reluctance at leaving behind their gear and precious pooches. I quickly discovered the source of the scream.
Melody, the groomer, was stumbling in a state of shock, rubbing her hands together and looking frantically around for someone to help her. I reached her first and took hold of her hand.
"What is it?" I asked. "What's wrong? Did you lose Pebbles?"
She was in such a muddle, it took her a second to comprehend my questions. "Pebbles?" she said on a weak breath. "No, it's Ellen." She took a firmer grip of my hand. "Come with me. It's Ellen. I found her in her trailer and—" a muffled sound followed. I couldn't understand what she was saying. She dragged me along the path to Ellen's trailer. Pebbles was sitting stoically inside her pen watching all the excitement around her but not barking or jumping.
"I ripped open the bag," Melody said as we reached the steps. "But I think it's too late."
"The bag? I don't understand."
A crowd gathered around the trailer. It seemed everyone had enough interest to find out what was going on, but no one was concerned enough to follow behind. I wondered briefly if they knew Melody was prone to drama.
We pushed inside the small trailer. It was one of those special custom fifth wheels designed for brief stays at various stops. There was a kitchenette and couch and special pillow with Pebbles' name embroidered on it. Apparently Trigger, with his rustic manners, wasn't allowed to attend elegant events like the dog show.
I stopped just inside the trailer and caught a sneeze before it erupted into a full blown sneeze fit. The lavender smell from Ellen's special shampoo permeated the entire interior. Melody reached for my hand. "She's here. Hurry. I think we need to call an ambulance or something."
I couldn't imagine what she meant by or something, but the word ambulance sent my adrenaline into overdrive. We stepped around the wall separating the sitting area from the kitchen. Ellen was curled on her side on the ground with a bag over her head. A sparkly dog collar was tightened around her neck holding it in place.
"Oh my gosh," I gasped. I dropped to my knees next to Ellen's very motionless body. "Call for an ambulance and police," I told Melody.
"She looks bad, doesn't she? I ripped open the plastic bag when I found her. Then I ran out to find some help." Melody narrated her harrowing moments as she stood a few feet away from the body on the floor. It seemed the whole thing had traumatized her and rightly so.
"Yes, please make the call."
Melody half stumbled back out of the trailer. I heard a collective gasp as they heard Melody call for an ambulance.
I unfastened the dog collar around Ellen's neck but left it loosely in place. The bag was no longer secured, but it hardly mattered. My few years in medical school had given me enough exposure to dead bodies to know when I was leaning over one. Ellen's eyes were slightly open and lifeless. Her lips were tinged with a faint blue, and there was no breath to move the plastic near her mouth.
Unless Ellen had become so despondent about being called a cheater, she decided to tie a bag over her head to kill herself, it seemed I was kneeling in the middle of a crime scene. It was the reason I'd decided only to unfasten the collar, an instinctual thing to do when I saw her with a collar tightened around her neck. But I needed to leave the evidence in place.
The poor woman couldn't have been more than forty. Who would have done something like this at a dog show? I studied the thick plastic bag that had been placed over her head. I'd seen it before. The paw prints on the plastic jarred my memory. Avery Hinkle was pulling her champion banner out of a bag just like it the day before. I wasn't certain it was the exact one she was holding, but it sure looked like it. The paw print bag might have been a common item for the competitors. It might have even been Ellen's.
The collar now hanging loosely around her neck looked familiar too. It took less time to jar my memory because I'd been standing right next to a rack of them all day. I was absolutely certain the purple collar with sparkly rhinestones was one of Vivian's creations. Vivian used a certain leather for the collar that had a distinctive leather tanning aroma. I could smell it without leaning closer to the body, even with the pervasive lavender fragrance in the trailer. I wanted to kick myself for not paying more attention to the customers buying up Vivian's sparkly collars. Of course, I never could have predicted that one of them would wind up as part of a gruesome murder plot.
Melody popped her head inside, but it was obvious she'd seen enough of poor Ellen. "The ambulance and police are on their way. And there's a lady out here, the bakery owner. She is wondering if you'll be long. She said something about driving back to Port Danby."
"Tell her I'll be a bit longer."
Melody braved a step into the trailer. She looked close to throwing up. "Is she? You know?"
I didn't want to be the one to start widespread panic and horror at the dog show, but there wasn't any way to sugarcoat a murder. So I took the coward's way out. "We'll wait for the medical professionals. Tell people outside the trailer that they should clear the area and make room for the emergency vehicles."
"Yes, right away. Poor Pebbles," she muttered as she ducked back out, anxious to carry out her instructions.
I pushed to my feet and peered out the small kitchen window. In the distance, I could see flashing red lights. I knew Briggs was busy on a case, a stake out of sorts, but I wondered if
they would call him to the scene of a murder.
I glanced around the trailer. Nothing seemed out of place to indicate any sort of scuffle. I stared down at Ellen, who had just hours before won the dog show. The trophy and ribbon were sitting on the corner of the kitchen counter, waiting to take their places on a display shelf. But now, Ellen would never get to enjoy her trophy or her win. That sad thought led to a logical question. Was Ellen Joyner dead because her dog Pebbles won the Chesterton Dog Show? A second even more obvious question popped into my head. Why on earth didn't she just unbuckle the collar to avoid suffocation? If it wasn't suicide, then it seemed Ellen was unconscious before the killer covered her head in a plastic bag.
Chapter 11
It occurred to me, rather suddenly, that if Detective Briggs didn't arrive with the emergency team, then I wouldn't be involved at the crime scene. After all, I'd had Melody call it in as an emergency, knowing it was not my place to call it a murder. There was a good chance they wouldn't even contact Briggs, especially if he was deep in another case. Briggs usually asked me to sniff out clues with my nose, an effort that was often rewarded when my highly trained nose detected an odor or fragrance that was out of place. The Chesterton Police force might not know that I assisted Detective Briggs on the occasional case. I would certainly be asked to step away from the scene. As the sirens neared, I knew those last few moments might be my only chance to sniff the area.
I dropped back down to my knees, making sure not to come in contact with anything except the vinyl covered floor beneath me. The process of picking out aromatic clues was complicated by the overwhelming scent of lavender and whatever other perfume-laden grooming products permeated the small space. My medical training and general interest in everything science had made me fairly comfortable around dead bodies, but I always found that if I had just seen the person alive and well hours before, the task was more gruesome.
I paused and collected myself before leaning down to Ellen's head, more specifically the hole that Melody had ripped in the bag in a futile attempt to save her life. The bag itself had a strong plastic odor. One I would expect to smell. The pungent smell of sun block mingled with the industrial odor of plastic. The entire dog show had taken place under the hot August sun, so it was easy to conclude that Ellen had slathered on sun block.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I pushed my nose past the hole for a closer sniff. (Ex-med student or not, I was, after all, human.) I hardly needed my hypersensitive nose to detect the all too common at crime scenes metallic odor of blood. I'd been relying on my sense of smell, but it seemed I was going to have to gain enough courage to open my eyes. I was just an inch away from Ellen's dead face as I pried them open.
I scanned her face, her slightly open eyes and limp mouth. As my gaze dropped to the side of her head that was pressed against the floor, I saw the lightest smear of blood. It started near her eyebrow and disappeared beneath her head. It seemed I'd found the answer to my question. Ellen had been knocked unconscious before the killer secured the bag over her head. It was a horrible and macabre plan to kill someone, cause them to suffocate while they were knocked out cold.
The sirens had reached the park. I had just minutes before the crew was led through the crowd to Ellen's trailer at the back of the lot. I moved my nose along Ellen's shirt and found a great deal more lavender. I paused to sneeze. "Excuse me," I said, out of habit. There was no 'bless you' in response. (Thank goodness because that would have been creepy.)
I decided to whisk my nose away and move onto Ellen's hands, a location that often held clues into the last things the victim did before they died. And, if the victim had put up a fight, it occasionally led to the murderer. Although, the scenario in my head of how Ellen died did not show any kind of fight or struggle. Neither did the mostly undisturbed surroundings.
I leaned forward. Before I could lower my nose to the hand resting on the floor nearest me, I caught a distinct scent. "Peanut butter," I muttered to myself. I moved my nose closer to a greasy stain on Ellen's dark blue shirt. It was definitely peanut butter.
I sat back and thought about the entire dog show scandal. It seemed that Avery's accusations were right. Ellen might just have sabotaged Belvedere's showing by feeding him peanut butter. There weren't too many other explanations for someone having peanut butter on their shirt, other than the obvious, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
Voices outside the trailer and footsteps on the stairs let me know help had arrived. Not that there was much help needed. I rose to my feet. The door swung open and a police officer, youngish and slightly nervous looking, entered first. He glanced around to make sure there were no hazards or people waiting in shadows, (not that there were many shadows in the trailer) then waved to someone just outside the door.
The officer stepped aside and let the paramedics pass with their cases of equipment. The first paramedic, a woman with very short hair and glasses was the first to get a glimpse of Ellen.
"Jeez," she gasped and took a step back. Her partner, a man who looked no more than twenty, stepped up next to her. It was a lot of adults and equipment in one cramped space.
"Is she dead?" the young paramedic asked.
"I believe so," I said before the woman could respond.
The medic regained her composure and stepped up next to Ellen. She crouched down next to the body and gently took hold of her wrist. "No pulse."
The officer blanched as he stepped around the kitchenette counter for the first time. "Jeezus," he said with even more shock than the paramedic. "Looks like someone suffocated her with a bag." It was such an obvious conclusion, I had to turn my head to hide a grin.
The officer grabbed the radio on his shoulder. "This is Officer Burke, we've got an apparent 187. We're going to need a coroner and an evidence team in here stat. Over." He released his radio. "Tuttle and Yates, you two might as well head out. This place is going to get pretty crowded, and there isn't much for you to do," he told the paramedics. "Don't answer any questions from the onlookers. We don't need word about the murder to get out yet," he cautioned them as they left. He turned back and took a more scrutinizing look at me. "Are you a friend, or did you discover the body?"
"Neither actually. A woman named Melody discovered the body. She is a dog groomer. She had been walking the victim's dog around the park. She went looking for the owner to return the dog and found her on the floor. Melody said she ripped open the bag, hoping to help. But you'll want to talk to her to get all the details," I added. "In her distress, Melody came running out of the trailer, looking for someone to help. I followed her in and found the woman on the ground with the bag ripped open. I confess, I instinctively loosened the dog collar that had been fastened around her neck." He started to scowl, so I quickly continued. "In my defense, I didn't know she was dead. It seemed like the first logical thing to do."
Officer Burke took out his notebook. "And your name?" he asked.
"I guess I forgot to mention it. I'm Lacey Pinkerton."
"Pinkerton," he repeated quietly to himself as he wrote it down, then his face popped up. "You're Lacey Pinkerton, the lady with the big nose." He pointed to his own and immediately blushed about his statement. "I don't mean big nose, obviously because yours is not big. But I've heard that you can smell the tiniest scent, even if it's mixed in with big scents." He crinkled his nose and sniffed the air. "What is that I'm smelling? Reminds me of my grandmother."
"It's lavender." I could hardly hold back a smile. I'd met many of the Mayfield police officers in various investigations, but this was my first real encounter with Chesterton Police. Port Danby was flanked by two towns, Mayfield, a much bigger, more urban town and Chesterton a sleepy small town that was bordered by farms on one side and expensive beachfront houses on the other. Most of the Mayfield police knew me, especially since I'd started dating Briggs, but it seemed news of my stellar nose had reached west to Chesterton.
Officer Burke seemed a little star struck, which made it even harder for me to
refrain from smiling. "Was there anything else you noticed?" he asked. "Anything I might point out to the evidence team?"
I had to admit I was feeling a little full of myself. My expertise was being called upon. I was a long way from that nosy, nosy woman who happened upon a dead woman in a pumpkin patch. Back then, Detective Briggs considered me a nuisance (without actually using the word but it showed in his expression). But I'd proved myself and my talent for whiffing out evidence. Now I was an unofficial part of the team.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to sound more important and give weight to my findings. "Yes, I noticed the odor of blood near the victim's head. I believe she has a small wound on the side that is pressed against the floor. I think she might have been struck in the head, knocked unconscious and then suffocated to death with the bag. The victim also has peanut butter on her shirt."
Burke looked less impressed by that finding but then he didn't know anything about the significance of peanut butter during the day's events. But mentioning the shirt reminded me that I hadn't gotten to Ellen's hands.
"If you don't mind, while we're waiting for the coroner, I could run my nose past the victim's hands. Sometimes hands give the most clues. At the very least, they give a picture of what the victim might have been up to before she was killed." My main goal was to check for the incriminating smell of peanut butter. It would help secure the theory that Ellen had indeed sabotaged Avery's chance at winning the trophy.
"Sure but please don't move or touch anything," he said and then looked contrite. "I suppose you already know that."
"Yes, but it's always good to be reminded," I said with a smile.
I knelt back down on the trailer floor and leaned down to run my nose past Ellen's pale, limp hand. It rested on the floor in front of her body.
Officer Burke crouched down nearby and watched with interest. I decided it couldn't hurt to show off a little. After all, I was the famous Lacey Pinkerton with the big nose.
Sunflowers and Sabotage Page 5