Josiah Reynolds Box Set 4

by Abigail Keam

  Exasperated, Bess let out a cry.

  “What’s all the commotion in here?” asked Charles, entering the breakfast room.

  Bess complained, “Daddy, Josiah won’t curb her critter.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, as Charles flashed his daughter a chastising look. “That’s no way to treat a guest, and Baby is our guest. He’s not a problem, if you know how to handle this breed of dog.” He took the roll of paper towels from me and mopped Baby’s face. “I wish you’d quit complaining about dogs in the house, Bess.”

  Charles clucked at Baby. “Come with me, Baby. I’ll feed you.” He moved toward the kitchen with Baby following, and Bess bringing up the rear, swatting at Baby’s wagging tail.

  I chuckled for I knew Bess was all bark and no bite. Bess would give Baby the best tidbits in the house to gobble down and brush his coat, which Baby loved. She just liked to complain. It was her thing.

  I glanced at June, who was nibbling on a scone while reading the morning paper.

  “Are you going to eat your bacon?” I asked.

  “There’s a whole tray of bacon on the table.”

  “I ate it.”

  June looked over her newspaper at the bacon tray. “I thought you wanted to become a vegetarian.”

  “I do, but when I’m nervous, I eat meat.”

  “Odd,” murmured June, going back to reading the paper.

  “Can I have your bacon?”

  “NO! Quit being a pest.”

  I slumped back in my chair, shoving some toast in my pie hole.

  “Are you pouting, Josiah?” asked June from behind her paper.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “What is it? Something juicy I hope.”

  June put down the paper. “There’s an article about Carol Elliott. She’s officially missing.” She handed the paper to me. “Read it, please.”

  Taking the paper, I looked for the article about Carol Elliott. Finding it, I read.

  WINCHESTER WOMAN MISSING.

  Venita Tuttle, mother of Carol Elliott, 38, went to the Winchester police on Thursday of last week to declare her daughter has been missing for almost two months. Mrs. Tuttle, when asked why it took so long to go to the authorities, answered, “I was told she had left the town.”

  Mrs. Tuttle would not identify who had told her this.

  The police searched the house of Carol and Lonny Elliott, 40, her husband, and also a plot of disturbed ground at the back of the property. Nothing was recovered which indicated foul play.

  Venita Tuttle has issued a $5000 reward for information regarding her daughter’s whereabouts.

  Carol Elliott is 5’6”, 146 lbs, with brown hair and brown eyes. Moon-shaped scar on left thumb. She was last seen wearing jeans and a long sleeved blue blouse with blue cloth buttons. Her hair was in a ponytail.

  Venita Tuttle is asking for volunteers to help search the woods behind her daughter’s home this Saturday starting at sunrise. The search will be coordinated by the Winchester police. Interested persons are to call 555-HELP. Donations will be gratefully accepted.

  I folded the paper. “This case keeps getting muddier by the day. Toby’s girlfriend has been missing for months.”

  June mused, “So Miss Carol couldn’t have killed Toby.”

  “June, I have a favor to ask. I wouldn’t be asking, but I don’t have the money. Would you be willing to pay for Hazel Mott?”

  “The woman with the Bloodhound?”

  “She also has a German Shepard who’s a trained cadaver dog.”

  “Josiah, I don’t mind the money, but why do you care about Carol Elliott?”

  “The sooner we find out who killed Toby Sloan, the sooner this whole mess will be cleared up, and Sandy can get on with her life.”

  “After the way she talked to you, I don’t see why you give a damn. I get angry when I think of all the favors you did for her over the years. She pays you back with dumping her dog on you, and then rebuking you for taking care of it.”

  “Hazel Mott,” I said, trying to get June back on track.

  “You don’t even know if the woman is dead, let alone missing. Carol Elliott could be sunning herself on a Florida beach with a new boyfriend.”

  “That story about a new lover is a red herring. Carol Elliott wouldn’t have run off with another man if she had her heart set on Toby.”

  “You don’t know that’s true.”

  “You don’t know that it isn’t.”

  “If she is dead, she’s probably buried in the plot of disturbed ground at the back of the house.”

  I frowned. “The police checked, and nothing was found.”

  “Oh, I remember now.”

  “Here’s what I think, June. I think the dug-up ground was supposed to be a burial plot for Carol, but for some reason it wasn’t used. Probably due to the neighbor next door. She has a new baby, so she’s up at all hours of the night. I think Carol Elliott is buried in the woods behind her house.”

  “You think the husband killed her.”

  “Start with those closest to the victim and work your way out.”

  “Given that supposition, Sandy is the logical person to have killed Toby.”

  “I’d hate to think it.”

  June thought for a moment. “Jo, I think we might be getting too old to play detective. Maybe we are delving into mysteries better left untouched by us.”

  “You feel this way because you’re depressed about Liam being gone. You’re giving up, June. Don’t do that to me, old friend. I need you.”

  “You need my money.”

  “I need you.”

  June, genuinely touched, fussed with her napkin trying to hide her emotions. Regaining her composure, she asked, “If I give in to your request, will it get you and Mr. Slobber Puss out of my house sooner?”

  “It might.” I gave June my usual imploring look, which included thrusting out my lower lip and batting my eyelashes. Oh, the hoops I must jump through to get what I want, but it usually worked on the old girl.

  June laughed. “Such a stupid face. It amuses me to no end to watch your feeble attempts at manipulation.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Call your friend, Hazel Mott.”

  “Yippee! Thank you, June.”

  “I want you to do something for me, Jo.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful. You have a tendency to do too much for your friends. Many of them don’t deserve your love. Just be careful. Will you–for me?”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. This was a second warning from a friend.

  What had they sensed which I hadn’t?

  40

  A cop stopped us, instructing Charles to park in the church parking lot two blocks away.

  Lady Elsmere lowered her window. “Young man. Has Helen Mott arrived with a cadaver dog?”

  “A woman with a German Shepard came through here ten minutes ago. My sergeant told me to let her through.”

  “I paid for the dog’s services, and I wish to personally witness if the dog discovers anything. As you can see, walking two blocks is out of the question for me.”

  The policeman tipped back his hat and scratched his head. “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “Please call whoever is in charge, and tell her Lady Elsmere wants access close to Carol Elliott’s house.”

  The policeman reluctantly called in the request. He turned his back to us while talking. Finishing the call, the young man walked to the back of the Bentley, taking down the license plate number before waving us through.

  Charles turned down Carol Elliott’s street which was lined with parked cars. People, wearing boots and holding walking sticks, stood in little knots near her home.

  Unable to find a parking space, Charles turned the car around and parked in the middle of the street. He got out and talked to a policeman who seemed to be guarding the Elliotts’ house.

  The policeman took Charles over to a plump woma
n standing in the driveway. The three of them talked for several minutes before the woman accompanied Charles back to the Bentley.

  He opened the back door and stuck his head in. “Ma’am, this is Venita Tuttle, mother of Carol Elliott. She wishes to thank you.”

  Charles pulled back, and a woman with red-rimmed eyes, wearing a purple paisley headscarf and holding a handkerchief, bent over.

  Lady Elsmere greeted, “Mrs. Tuttle.”

  “Lady Elsmere.”

  “Call me June, please. I’m just a Kentucky gal like yourself.” She motioned to Mrs. Tuttle. “Please sit. You must be tired of standing and having folks stare at you. There’s plenty of room.” Lady Elsmere held her black-gloved hand out in welcome.

  Venita Tuttle climbed in the Bentley while I scooted over to make room for her.

  Settled, Mrs. Tuttle reached over and grasped Lady Elsmere’s hand. “I want to thank you for providing the cadaver dog. I didn’t have the money to pay for one.”

  Lady Elsmere reminded her, “You’re offering a five-thousand-dollar reward.”

  Mrs. Tuttle dabbed her eyes with a soggy handkerchief. “I thought if anyone claimed the reward, I could sell my car.”

  “Ah, I see,” replied Lady Elsmere, softly. “I can tell you, I’m torn. I hope the dog helps, but if the dog should discover anything.”

  “I know,” interjected Mrs. Tuttle. “Not knowing about Carol is terrible. You can’t imagine. But if the dog finds something, that will be terrible too. Either way it’s going to be a horrific day.”

  “Is anyone with you, Mrs. Tuttle?” I asked. “A friend or relative?”

  “My husband is at home. He has a weak heart.”

  “There is no one here with you?” asked Lady Elsmere.

  Venita Tuttle shook her head.

  Lady Elsmere shot me a compassionate look before stating, “Please stay with us in the car. I insist.”

  “I’m much obliged. I could wait in Carol’s house, but Lonny’s there.” Mrs. Tuttle’s voice hardened as she said Lonny’s name.

  “This is my friend, Josiah Reynolds. It was her idea to hire Hazel Mott.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  Mrs. Tuttle nodded before looking out the window. People were starting to gather outside the Elliott’s house.

  “Mrs. Tuttle, may I ask why the search hasn’t started?” I inquired.

  “The Captain thought it best to give the dog a head start. He’s in the woods with Mrs. Mott right now.”

  “Why hadn’t the police made any progress investigating Carol’s disappearance before this?”

  Lady Elsmere warned, “Josiah.”

  “I don’t mind answering,” said Mrs. Tuttle. “They believed Lonny’s story about her running off with a man.”

  “Why are they here then?” I asked.

  “After I made a public plea to have a search in the woods, they decided it would make them look bad if they didn’t help.”

  “Surely not,” objected Lady Elsmere.

  “I’m sorry to say my Carol gave them reason to believe she had run away. I’m afraid her marriage was not a happy one. To a large extent it was her fault, due to her carousing behavior. Pour Carol’s foolishness, other men, and an unhappy husband into a pot, stir constantly, and sooner or later there will be an explosion. I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen.

  “I don’t mean to speak ill of my daughter. She’s a sweet person, but when it comes to men, Carol doesn’t have a lick of sense. I love her, though, and she loves me. She deserves better than this.” Mrs. Tuttle drifted off talking, watching several policemen disperse the crowd.

  I looked out my window to see people walking slowly to their cars on the street, casting glances at the Elliott’s house.

  Police began directing cars out of the cul-de-sac.

  Lady Elsmere put her arm around Venita Tuttle.

  “It may be nothing at all,” she murmured to an anxious Venita Tuttle, who was watching people leave.

  Mrs. Tuttle’s eyes widened with fear. “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

  “Stay here, Mrs. Tuttle. I’ll see,” offered Charles, who climbed out of the Bentley and headed over to several policemen huddled by the house.

  I looked away. I couldn’t witness Mrs. Tuttle’s distress any longer. It was simply too painful to watch. I felt deeply for her, because I knew why the police were sending the volunteers away.

  If Mrs. Tuttle didn’t realize the significance of volunteers leaving, she made the connection when the coroner’s van pulled into Carol’s driveway. “Oh, God! Oh, God,” she wailed, clawing at the door handle.

  Lady Elsmere pulled her close. “I’m so sorry. So sorry, my dear. You must stay here. You don’t want to see what they’ve found. You want to remember Carol as she was.”

  Wanting to give Mrs. Tuttle some privacy, I left the car and went into the backyard, thinking what an awful day this was for Venita Tuttle. Having closure was small consolation to a woman who had lost her child. I understood her pain, being a mother myself.

  I clutched my chest as I waited for Hazel Mott to appear. I didn’t have to wait long.

  Hazel emerged from the thick woods with a huge German Shepard on a leash. Seeing me, she waved and strode over to me. “Howdy,” she said.

  “And?”

  Hazel ordered her dog to sit before answering. He was panting heavily. “We found a skull with hair still attached. She had been placed in a grave, but animals must have smelled her and dug her up. She’s scattered for miles, I bet.”

  “Can identification be made?”

  “Naw. They’ll have to do a DNA profile.”

  “What about her teeth?”

  “Possibly. Possibly. Several of her teeth are missing. We couldn’t find them. From the quick look I had of the skull, it looked like they had been pulled. I would also venture her hands will never be found either–cut off so no fingerprints. ’Tis a shame for sure. So young.” Hazel slapped me on the back. “Well, gotta go. My dog needs to simmer down. Our job is done.”

  “See you later, Hazel. Thanks.”

  “Glad to help. Come on, boy,” Hazel said to her dog.”

  I walked slowly to the Bentley.

  We waited with Mrs. Tuttle until the Captain came over to talk to the grieving mother. He encouraged her to go home, explaining that the processing of the body would take hours, even days.

  With his help, we arranged to take Mrs. Tuttle home while I followed with her car. We had a police escort for the ten-minute ride.

  Venita’s husband met her at the door with their pastor.

  Relieved to know someone was with them in their time of grief, I gave the pastor the car keys.

  He thanked me before closing the door.

  I sadly went back to the Bentley.

  We had to drive by Carol’s street again to leave Winchester. A group of ghoulish onlookers had gathered at the entrance to the street, still blocked off with a barricade.

  As we slowly passed, I saw Sandy Sloan standing in the crowd.

  She turned and watched us pass.

  It gave me the heebie-jeebies to see her there.

  Immediately my mind began working.

  Did Sandy Sloan have the strength to drag a 146-pound woman into the woods and bury her?

  Perhaps the body was cut up first.

  Could she have pulled out the woman’s teeth?

  Pulling out healthy teeth takes a lot of muscle.

  I leaned forward and took another peek at Sandy before we were out of sight.

  She was still watching at us, her hair blowing about her face.

  “What is it?” asked June.

  “Sandy Sloan is in the crowd.”

  June didn’t say anything, but reached over and held my hand. Her fingers felt clammy.

  I guess she was creeped out, too.

  I couldn’t wait for this day to end.

  41

  Believing the crisis was over with Sandy, I was sleeping at home again, and was having my br
eakfast when Shaneika stomped out on the back terrace. It had been a perfect morning until she showed up.

  I looked up surprised. “Shaneika. What gives?”

  She slammed her purse down on a lounge chair. “We’re in big trouble, that’s what.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you told anyone about sneaking into Carol Elliott’s house?”

  “Hunter.”

  “Why did you do that? It’s another person to manage.”

  “Why are you so upset? Sit down. Have some orange juice.” I handed a glass to Shaneika.

  She plopped in a chair and drank it before speaking. “The police found Carol’s diary. It confirms the story Sandy told about Toby messing with her medication. Carol wrote Toby had told her he was substituting Sandy’s medication with cornstarch. He wanted her to go off the deep end.”

  “So Sandy was telling the truth.”

  “Carol also wrote she was starting to feel afraid of Toby, and wanted to end the relationship, but he threatened her.”

  “If Carol wanted to end her affair with Toby, why would she call Sandy and brag about how she was going to marry him?” I asked.

  “You know what I think?”

  “Tell me, oh swami,” I said.

  “I think Toby killed Carol to keep her quiet.”

  “That’s putting a different slant on things.”

  “Have you seen Sandy?”

  “Not since she came to collect her dog.”

  “The police want to question her again, but we can’t find her. She checked out of the motel.”

  “Wait a minute. I did see her. It was the day the police found Carol Elliott’s body. She was standing in the crowd, gawking.”

  “That’s another thing. The police interviewed the neighbors. The lady next door told them about a woman who went into the house, claiming she owed Carol money. They’re looking for Sandy to see if she is the one, but the neighbor will undoubtedly say she is not the woman. The police will continue the search.”

  “Oops,” I squeaked.

  “Precisely. We’re talking about a capital murder case here. If they find out I knew you were going to the house to snoop and you removed evidence, we both could go to jail. I certainly would lose my license. It would be considered tampering with evidence.”