There seemed to be no reason to interfere with their memorial so he went home and back to bed.
After an interrupted night’s sleep, the last person Tony wanted to see at the Law Enforcement Center was Orvan Lundy.
Tony hadn’t even sorted through the mail on his desk when Ruth Ann appeared in his doorway. “Mr. Lundy has something he wants to confess.”
“Really?” Tony felt acid drip into his stomach as he wondered what he had done to deserve having the old sinner enjoy confessing to him on a regular basis. He might feel differently about it if Orvan would tell him what he really wanted to know. Tony was sure the old guy had killed a number of people, maybe forty years ago, but there was no time limit on murder. “Did he give you any hints?” He wasn’t surprised when she shook her head.
“He looks terrible,” Ruth Ann whispered.
“Okay, let’s get this done.” Tony called Wade on his radio. “Orvan’s here.” He headed for the greenhouse, their interview room, nicknamed for the impressive humidity level achieved by more than two people speaking for any length of time. The tiles and drain in the center only augmented the title but they made it easy to clean.
While Tony waited with Orvan for Wade to arrive and for Ruth Ann to return with some water, Tony studied the old man. Ruth Ann was right. Orvan looked even older than his considerable age, whatever it was, and sort of gray and pasty. Normally he dressed “formally” for his interrogation and confession, clean overalls, the collar on his best long-sleeved flannel shirt buttoned, fresh shoe polish on the top of his snowy hair. Today Or-van was dressed in his work overalls and a ragged shirt with no discernible buttons. His white hair bore signs of staining from various polishes but nothing fresh.
“Everything all right, Orvan?” Tony might not really like the man but he certainly didn’t hate him.
Orvan leaned forward and held his head with both hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Not feelin’ so good.”
“Do you need a doctor?” Tony thought Dr. Grace, as she had become known, would make an office call. He glanced up at Wade who had just arrived.
Wade pulled out his cell phone, waiting for guidance. “Should I call Grace?”
Orvan just shook his head and moaned. “I saw them. You got to protect me.”
In spite of his best intentions, Tony leaned forward, already intrigued. “From whom?”
“They are a-coming for me.” Orvan tipped back his head and howled like a coyote. Then he quieted and whispered, “Tell ’em I confessed.”
“To what?” Tony thought a little detail would help.
“I seed the river of fire.” Tears splashed on his skinny chest. “It were filled with the cries from Hades. I’m doomed.”
Before any of them could respond, Orvan passed out, falling onto the floor. “Forget Grace.” Tony radioed dispatch. “Get an ambulance.”
Wade was doing CPR on the old guy when the paramedics arrived. They checked him over, started an IV, and lifted him onto the gurney. While the paramedics worked, they asked questions about his age and any physical complaints.
Tony answered as well as he could. “He’s always seemed strong and active. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“He have anything health related in particular he complained about? Palpitations? Nausea?”
“Nothing I’ve heard about. Only his fear of burning in hell.” Tony stayed out of the way. “I’m sure he saw the burning paper boats on the pond last night but I can’t imagine it was enough to inspire this.”
“He seems pretty dehydrated,” said one paramedic.
His assistant agreed. “His pulse is thready and the heartbeat’s not very strong.”
Orvan thrashed a bit on the gurney but didn’t open his eyes.
Tony held the doors open as the ambulance crew hustled back to their vehicle with their patient. “Are you taking him to Knoxville?”
“We’ll stop first at the clinic and see what Dr. Grace, er Clay-bough, has to say. It will be her decision. She might just want to keep him in one of the beds there.”
“I think the hammer and wrench guy just struck again,” Sheila reported. “I’m out on the highway.”
Tony thought Sheila’s voice held a note of excitement through the radio. He said, “I’d love for you to tell me he’s handcuffed in the back of your car and you’ve got the hammer and wrench neatly sealed in a couple of bags.”
“No such luck,” Sheila said. “I’m near Ruby’s, maybe a half mile from where Not Bob was attacked and I’m waiting for the ambulance again.”
“Who was attacked this time?” Tony left his desk and headed for the door.
“A hitchhiker. He’s got ID and I ran it through the system. No wants, no warrants. The guy’s just a guy trying to catch a ride somewhere. It doesn’t look like robbery because he’s still got his wallet, some cash, and a duffel bag.”
Tony heard Sheila talking to the arriving ambulance crew for a moment. “This man was obviously standing by the highway, I’d guess either he was just dropped off or was hoping for a ride when bam, he’s hit from behind. Hard. He was knocked completely cold. I saw him stretched out there on the shoulder, face down in the dirt. Scared me, I thought he was dead.”
“Was he able to tell you anything?”
“Nope. I’ve never seen anyone that unconscious before. I checked his pulse and called for medical help. I’m afraid this one might have a broken skull or neck.” Sheila’s voice lowered. “Our attacker has a vicious swing so I’d guess a fair amount of muscle behind it.”
“Maybe the assailant lives in the area near Ruby’s. Walking distance.” Tony closed his eyes, trying to visualize the area. Next to Ruby’s was the garage run by the Thomas brothers. A zigzag walking path over a hill ended in downtown Silersville. The cluster of homes they had visited after finding Not Bob was one of several small groupings of houses and there were quite a few homes nearby with no neighbors visible at all. “Let’s find him.”
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
Tony arrived at Sheila’s location in minutes. The ambulance bearing the unconscious hitchhiker was just pulling onto the highway, headed for Knoxville. The driver, a man Tony wasn’t familiar with, lowered his window. Tony was surprised because he knew he’d get the story from Sheila and the driver was wasting valuable time.
“I forgot to tell Sheila,” the driver lifted his sunglasses. “There was nothing in his wallet showing any allergies. If she, or you, finds anything related to his medical history, call us.”
Tony cut in. “We know what to do.” If Tony weren’t so concerned about the second similar vicious crime, he might have given the man a piece of his mind.
With a jaunty wave, the driver drove away, using lights and siren to clear the road.
“I don’t like him.” Sheila was staring at the back of the ambulance as well. “He’s a vacation substitute. He acted like we’re all too dumb to read much less to think.”
Tony reached for the victim’s ID she held in her hand. “Find a relative, if possible. And I don’t want anyone giving out any information to anyone else. Not his name. Not where he’s from. Nothing.”
Sheila’s eyebrows rose at his unusual statement, almost like she’d been slapped.
Tony knew his people would maintain the man’s privacy. He decided he’d better explain his ill-advised statement. “I see his name is Robert. Maybe he goes by Bob.”
“I’m with you there,” Sheila said. “You don’t want whoever whacked Not Bob to think he’s succeeded this time? Why not?”
“I’m not sure.” Tony had made his decision without thinking it through and didn’t want to prove to everyone how rashly he’d behaved. Part of him thought they’d never catch the attacker if he felt like he’d succeeded. “Let’s just hold off until we know more.”
Hours later he decided it wouldn’t have mattered. They scoured the woods, checked with witnesses, and finally accepted they had nothing to go on. The attacker had, or so they concluded, come upo
n Robert and hit him hard enough to crack his skull and then abandoned the man, unconscious by the side of the road. Nothing made sense.
“Sheriff?” Wade popped his head into Tony’s office, not uncommon with his open-door policy. “Grace just called. She says she needs our professional assistance at the clinic.”
“That’s intriguing.” Tony followed his fast-moving deputy down the hall and out to Wade’s official vehicle. “We’re usually calling for hers.”
Wade nodded, flipped on the lights, and took off like his wheels were on fire. “She said something about a fight involving her patient and some relatives.”
Tony could envision the Lundy clan creating problems. “But not who?”
“Nope.” Wade made the last turn and parked, careful not to block either the ambulance or the helicopter landing site. “She said come fast.”
The Law Enforcement Center and the clinic were almost neighbors. Tony had walked it frequently. “And, here we are.” He had only one leg out of the car when Nurse Foxx, usually known as Foxxy, opened the clinic door and waved the two men inside. Tony was sure he heard her say “you’ll love this” as she led them down the hallway.
In the largest room, there were a couple of curtained alcoves for the occasional overnight patients. The curtains to a couple of alcoves were open. This was not quite a hospital; the truly serious cases were transferred to Knoxville.
Orvan lay quietly in a bed, his head raised, watching the show on the other side of the room. His rheumy eyes sparkled and his mouth was slightly ajar. An IV into his scrawny arm delivered a clear liquid.
Tony and Wade didn’t need a guide. The screeching sounds coming from the far alcove were impossible to miss. Above the din, a woman shouted, “Tell her you love me more.” Followed by a different strident female voice, “No! It’s me she loves best.”
Sitting in a semicircle of plastic chairs were six Flowers women of various ages. Blossom, the youngest, sat in the chair facing the foot of the bed. Her orange hair glowed like a beacon. She and her sisters and cousins chatted among themselves while Blossom’s father, Autumn, stood nearby wringing his hands, the only man in the scene. Almost hidden from view, the patient was Hydrangea Flowers Jackson, the oldest member of the Flowers clan. The two screamers were Hydrangea’s only slightly younger sisters, Gladiola and Tulip. Tony guessed the three women had to all be in their nineties. The sisters were taking turns moving Hydrangea’s head to face themselves. The poor old woman had to be getting whiplash.
“Stop!” Tony didn’t yell but used his command voice.
The women on chairs looked at him and fell silent. Frozen in place.
Hydrangea blinked a couple of times and closed her eyes. Dr. Grace Claybough checked the woman’s pulse, then shook her head. “She’s gone.”
A howling of banshees could not have created a greater din than the six remaining Flowers women. They weren’t crying, they were accusing all and sundry of having done in the old woman.
“Out.” Grace pointed to the door. “Take your squabble outside. I have patients.”
Realizing their role was shepherding the women to the parking lot, Tony and Wade went to work, encouraging them to keep moving forward. As they passed Orvan’s cubicle, the old man looked disappointed. He had clearly been enjoying the melodrama.
Gladiola and Tulip, the two oldest women, the argumentative sisters, each had walkers. Neither was ready to yield an inch, although passing through the doorway in single file was their only option. Neither wanted to be first or last. Determined to fight it out for themselves, the pair were jammed into the open doorway, locking their supporting devices together. Whining and moaning, the ninety-year-olds banged into each other’s walkers, slapped one another with purses, and pulled hair. One woman finally managed to squeeze into position and got ahead of her sister by dislodging the sibling’s wig, tossing it onto the floor behind her, and sneaking past during the retrieval. The screeching did not stop until they were all outside.
Ears ringing, Tony and Wade did finally manage to herd the cluster of Flowers into the fresh air and stood guard, making sure none of them attempted to get back inside the clinic. They waited until every Flower disappeared.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
Finally there was some good news. Mike and Ruby returned from Knoxville with a favorable report from the doctor. Dammit was so pathetically happy to see the couple, he lumbered from his nap on Tony’s office rug, swinging his tail so hard he almost slapped himself in the face. Tony felt bad for the poor beast, separated from his family, and at the same time wanted to deny the dog’s obvious claims of abuse and neglect during his stay in the Abernathy household.
The joy didn’t last long.
“Sir, someone’s been shot.” Rex Satterfield’s voice was calm as it came through the radio with the address. “The ambulance is on the way but, well you know, whoever was doing the shooting is still in the area.”
Tony did know. Paramedics and ambulance crews didn’t like being shot at. He didn’t blame them. He’d been shot while he was still a Chicago cop and hadn’t enjoyed any part of it. “What’s the address?”
He and Mike were already headed to their vehicles even before they knew where they needed to go. They left Ruby and Dammit standing in the office talking to Ruth Ann.
Wade drove from another direction and beat them to the address, which turned out to be a lovely two-story home a few miles out of town. His voice came clearly through the radio letting everyone know there was no danger to anyone else.
Tony heard the wail of the ambulance through his radio as it approached the destination, a row of newer houses all built facing the same direction, giving them a lovely mountain view. Tony was a bit surprised to see that Sam Austin, a man Tony knew to be the homeowner of the house next door, had been handcuffed to a doorknob and was waving his free arm frantically, signaling his distress.
Ignoring everyone, Wade directed the paramedics to come to the house next to it, a single-story beauty. The home’s exterior was marred by shattered glass where there should have been a sliding door.
“What happened?”
Tony and Mike joined Wade and listened to his description of events while watching, through the remnants of glass, the paramedics working on a middle-aged woman lying on a tile floor. She was bleeding copiously. “As far as I’ve been told,” said Wade, “Mr. Austin shot Mrs. Marsh from his second-floor window. As you can see she was standing in her own kitchen.”
“Who handcuffed the neighbor?”
“I did.” Wade’s eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw tightened. “I took away his rifle and I wanted to make sure he stayed put.”
“How’s Mrs. Marsh doing?” Tony kept his voice low.
“I don’t know. The bullet hit about here.” Wade tapped his upper arm. “But, her arms are a lot smaller than mine and there’s a lot of blood. I’m guessing there’s all kinds of possible damage.”
“You wait here, Wade.” Tony turned toward the other house. “Mike, let’s go have a little chat with our shooter.”
Mr. Austin seemed strangely calm when they reached him. Tony unlocked the handcuffs and led him out of view of the wounded woman. “Talk to me. What happened?”
Mike took a few photographs of the only open window on the second floor.
“I want a lawyer.” Austin said. His jaw jutted forward. “I’ve got nothing else to say.”
“Interesting.” Tony put the handcuffs back on, this time placing Austin’s hands behind his back, palms facing away from each other. “Let’s get you to town and you can make your call.”
“Is this necessary?” Austin waggled his fingers. “I’m not dangerous.”
“Oh yes you are.” Tony led him to the Blazer and opened the back door. “Anyone who will shoot their next-door neighbor, their unarmed neighbor, is very dangerous in my book.” Tony placed a hand on Austin’s head and pushed him down onto the seat. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
Mike said, “I’ll stay a
nd take more pictures and help Wade.”
Tony thought it sounded like a great idea. He hated giving bad or frightening news to people. “See if there’s a husband or family in the area. You know the drill.”
It suddenly struck him they hadn’t checked the shooter’s home for other family or friends. “What about you, Austin, anyone else at your home?” Given the sulky behavior of the man, he was a bit surprised when he replied.
“No. Emily, my wife, is out of town.”
For an instant, the idea of shooting his own neighbor lady while Theo was gone flashed through his head. Implausible. There was more to this story, he could feel it.
Theo was being entertained by Katti Marmot. The pregnant Russian bride was taking Theo’s beginning quilting class. Her class project was, predictably, a small quilt for her unborn baby and, equally predictably, pink. Considering her refusal to learn the gender of the baby, Theo was a bit curious what her response might be if she produced a tiny little Claude, Jr. Theo pressed her lips together to stop herself from suggesting Katti sew a second quilt top, one using a novelty fabric of miniature trash trucks, just in case.
The other three members of the class appeared to be enjoying the convivial atmosphere as much as the actual sewing. Theo had seen them around town, at church, the store, or the doctor’s office, but hadn’t really gotten to know them until now.
“Make sure you all make plans to come to the quilt show. It starts on the Fourth and is taken down on Sunday.” Theo gestured to their practice quilt blocks, in various stages of completion, hanging on the design walls. “If you examine the quilts in the show, I think you’ll be surprised at how good these first quilts of yours are going to be.”
Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight Page 7