“Why wouldn't it be?” Distracted, Theo stared at her mother-in-law. She had not seen Jane today except to wave across the room to her. From this distance, Jane's hair seemed to be turning more blond than gray and her eyes were sparkling with mischief. It even looked like she had applied mascara and a touch of makeup. She opened her mouth to ask about it when Jane's statement cut her off.
“I won't be there tonight.” She fluffed her hair with her fingers. “I have a date.”
That statement caught Theo's full attention. “A date?” Theo didn't think that in the years since her husband had died Jane had come closer to dating than sitting next to a single man at a carryin supper at the church. She had been a widow for over ten years, in fact, just few months longer than Tony and Theo had been married. Growing up in the same small town, they had known each other, but it wasn't until Tony came home for his father's funeral that they had started dating. Only a few months later, they had married and she had joined him in Chicago. Theo raised her thumbs, showing her approval. “It's about time. Who's the lucky guy? Does Tony know?”
A tinge of pink colored Jane's cheeks. “Not that it is any of your business, or his, but Thomas Smith and I are driving over to Knoxville to see a play at the Clarence Brown Theatre, you know, at the University. We've been planning it for a couple of weeks.” Jane grinned.
“Since when could you keep a secret for a couple of weeks?” Theo thought that maybe it wasn't just the hair color that was making her mother-in-law look younger. Jane's choice for a date surprised her, though. Thomas Smith was the morning cook at Ruby's and everyone but Jane called him Red. A nice man in his late sixties, he and his wife had moved to Tennessee from Georgia the previous year. Theo had known the couple for several years starting when Red's wife Raeleene had taken Theo's beginning quilting class on one of their annual visits. The couple had moved permanently right after he retired. Soon after their move his wife became ill and had succumbed to cancer only a couple of months later.
“It hasn't been that long since poor Raeleene died,” said Theo.
“We are just friends and we both wanted to see the play.” Jane patted her hair into place even as her blush deepened. “At least that's all it is, for now.”
“Am I allowed to talk about this or is it a secret?” Theo was accustomed to keeping information to herself. While it was a challenge in Silersville, she was experienced. As the wife of the sheriff, she sometimes heard things that had to stay private.
“You can tell Tony, but I'd rather you not tell the group.” Jane lifted her eyebrows as if to remind Theo of her original reason for visiting.
“Say yes, of course, to the bowlers.” Theo snatched a rectangle of fabric away from the kitten. The kitten retaliated by meowing and going after the spool again. Both women grinned at its antics. “You know that they are going to want to know why you aren't there. You never miss a meeting and there are few secrets that last around that group.” They had named their group of quilting friends the Bowlers to appease the husband of one of the older members.
“I know, I know.” Jane gave her daughter-in-law a hug. “Just tell them that I went to the play. They don't need to know that I have an escort.”
“Deal. I'll do the best I can.” Theo pushed the older woman to the door. “Go. Work. Have fun. Stay away from me.” Theo latched the door firmly behind her. “Let's get back to work, Zoe.” Grabbing her rotary cutter and a length of crimson batik fabric, she started to work.
Zoe blinked a couple of times, her golden eyes flashing like caution lights, then turned and bounced onto the window seat and settled down for a bath and nap.
It didn't take Tony and Sheila very long to reach the location of John Mize's temporary church. The motel office sat on a dead end road just off the highway. Over the decade or so since the motel had stopped operating, it had been used for many things. At one time the twenty units, which were built like tiny cabins, had been offered as individual low cost housing. Poorly insulated and poorly constructed, they were only comfortable in the summer. No one stayed past the first frost.
Looking more like a bunker than a church, the office building was a flat-roofed cinderblock rectangle squatting under some old, large tulip trees. If an architect had been involved in the project, it was one with zero imagination. At one time the cinder blocks had been painted white. Now the paint was peeling but the basic structure remained sound. The trim was painted robin's-egg blue, complete with speckles.
A sign propped in the front window announced the building's new use. Written in crude block letters on a sheet of neon yellow poster board was an invitation. “Join our Church of Divine Revelation. Mon thru Fri 6:30 p.m., Sun 9:30 a.m. All Welcome.” There was no phone contact.
The windows gleamed. Using his hands to shield the glare, Tony could see through the spotless glass and into the room. Devoid of all furnishings but a double semi-circle of metal folding chairs, it looked absolutely uninviting but spotlessly clean. Even the battleship-gray linoleum floor had the shine of fresh wax.
Sheila walked around the building, checking the doors and windows. She reported to Tony that they were tightly locked and the area around the building had been cleared of trash. The bare dirt showed signs of being recently raked. “Who owns this place?”
Her question echoed his thoughts. “I'm not sure, but it won't take Ruth Ann more than thirty seconds to find out.” He grinned at his deputy. “That is, of course, if her nail polish is dry. If she still has to apply a top coat, it might take her five minutes.”
Sheila's exuberant laughter proved to Tony that she, like everyone in Park County law enforcement, knew that Tony's incredibly bright and efficient secretary virtually ran the sheriff's office. She had when Harvey Winston had been sheriff and it didn't change when Tony was elected.
Since Tony was basically lazy, it worked out well for both of them. Ruth Ann was anything but lazy. She worked full time for his office and studied law in the evening. Theo told him she thought Ruth Ann stayed so busy because of her mother-in-law. After an accident at work rendered Ruth Ann's husband Walter partially disabled, the older woman had come to help and stayed on.
The two women barely tolerated each other.
Everyone at the station also knew that Ruth Ann allowed nothing to interfere with her manicures. One drawer of her desk was dedicated to her fingernails. She owned innumerable bottles of polish in every imaginable shade, and a few that Tony thought should not have been imagined much less bottled.
“It's lunch time,” said Tony. “Let's go back and see if Wade has had any luck with his project. I can't say I envy him spending more time with that car.”
Sheila turned to follow him.
Tony thought that he saw movement in one of the windows and paused, looking back at the units.. It might have just been his imagination, or not. “Wait. Let's see if any of the cabins show signs of being lived in. Maybe this is where Mize stays when he doesn't go back up the mountain.”
They started with the unit nearest to the road. Nothing. No door. One glance inside showed that even the bathroom fixtures were gone. The next two looked about the same. In the fourth one they found signs of occupation. A family of raccoons had taken it over. When the door opened, their little black masked faces turned to check out the intruders, but they did not appear frightened.
Only the next to the last cabin showed signs of recent human habitation. It was still in fairly good physical condition. The door worked and the windows were intact. With the exception of a plastic grocery bag half-full of empty sardine tins, the floor was surprisingly free of debris. Three unopened sardine cans balanced on the narrow windowsill. Wadded into one corner of the room was an old down sleeping bag, leaking feathers. It looked like a pair of chickens had been fighting in that corner. The air in the room made their eyes water. The vile aroma suggested that some little creature, probably a skunk from the smell of it, must have died somewhere in the building and started to decay. That aroma, mixed with the sardine scents rising
from the bag, rendered the air in the space intolerable.
Wordlessly, Tony and Sheila quickly backed out of the cabin.
Tony wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. “Has it occurred to you, Sheila, that we have made our way from stench to stench this morning? Have you had enough yet?” He could see that against the pallor of her face, her freckles seemed darker than usual.
Sheila grinned at him, even as she wiped her own watery eyes. “I can take it if you can, Sheriff.” She breathed deeply through her mouth and the muscles of her throat moved under her creamy skin. “I'm one stench behind you because I didn't get to smell the car this morning, you know.” She managed a chuckle. “If you think that we need more, we could always go out to the dump and chat with Marmot-the-Varmint, you know, just for fun. I'll bet something out there stinks.”
“Yeah, it's usually Claude Marmot.” The corners of Tony's lips turned up. “Sounds like more fun than I can handle today. Let's go see what Wade has accomplished, maybe compare aromas, but first I think I'll snag an empty tin. I'm curious if there are fingerprints on it besides those of our furry friends. Maybe we can match them to our dead guy.”
“Do we need a warrant?”
“To pick trash off the ground? I sure hope not.” Reaching into the room, Tony used his pen to lift an empty tin that had fallen from the sack onto the floor. He slipped it into a small plastic evidence bag that he dragged from his pocket.
Tony managed to hang his jacket on the hook before Ruth Ann dropped the bomb. The gentle smile on Ruth Ann's coffee-colored face would normally have warned him. Any display of merriment on her part usually signaled a problem on his, and he knew that all too well. The compassionate expression in her deep brown eyes lulled him into a false sense of security. Without invitation, she settled onto one of the industrial strength chairs that faced his desk and sat blowing gently on her raspberry colored nails. Her smile widened.
Too late, warning bells clanged in his head. Ruth Ann was being way too pleasant. “What's wrong?” Tony settled onto his chair and gripped the edge of his desk with both hands. He knew that he was about to be shelled. He didn't know whether to duck or to run.
“I happen to know who owns that old motel. I don't even have to look it up.” Ruth Ann paused while she checked her nails.
As a dramatic pause, it was powerful and effective. Tony sucked in a deep breath and held it.
She did look at him then, but the hint of tears glistening in her eyes alarmed him even more. Her expression could only be called sympathetic. “It belongs to Martha Simms.”
“Martha Simms, as in my Aunt Martha?” Tony groaned and reached for an antacid tablet.
Ruth Ann coughed, giving him a discreet warning before she continued the bombardment. “Actually, it is owned jointly by Martha Simms and Jane Abernathy.”
Tony's hand stopped without touching the jar. “My aunt and my mother?” Tony searched Ruth Ann's face to see if by chance she was making it up. She wasn't. “When did they buy it?”
“They filed the deed maybe a month ago. I'm sure that it couldn't have been much longer than that because the sale hasn't shown up in the newspaper yet. I've been watching for it.” Ruth Ann sat up straighter. “I do know that they are forming some kind of partnership. They asked me to read through the contract, but since I haven't finished law school yet, much less passed the bar exam, I told them to check with a real lawyer. I suggested that they call Carl Lee Cashdollar.”
“If I give you my gun, will you promise to shoot me with it? Please?” His head spun. “How did that pair of women decide to buy that old motel, not to mention why? Are they nuts? Neither one of them has any business experience. They could lose everything they own and end up without a pot to . . . to . . .” He couldn't finish that thought.
Flinging himself out of his chair, he began pacing but the size of the room didn't allow a man his size to go very far. He came to an abrupt stop in front of his secretary. Ruth Ann didn't flinch but sat calmly, watching him. “Do you have any idea why they decided to buy that dilapidated piece of weed and skunk infested property or how they ended up having a makeshift congregation of snake handlers meeting in the office?”
Shaking her head, Ruth Ann's eyes widened. “All they told me was that they had big plans for it and asked me to keep it quiet. They said that they wanted it to be a surprise when it was ready but I don't know any more than that.” Her shoulders moved in an eloquent shrug. “It is a matter of public record, so I guess the cat's out of the bag now.”
“I'd say so.” He heaved a great sigh. “I'd better go have a chat with them.”
With those brave words, he plopped down behind his desk and picked up a folder. He couldn't focus on its contents, though; his brain spun. No way would he go over to the high school and pull his aunt out of her English class to ask her about this. The prospect of tackling the subject with his mother sounded like a good reason to consider moving.
Maybe he could find a job herding sheep in Montana or Wyoming. He could call it research for the novel he worked on in his spare time.
“Any word yet on what killed the snake guy?” Ruth Ann rose to her feet and headed toward the door then paused, turning to face him. Genuine sympathy radiated from her. “I heard about the inside of the car. It sounded like a mess.”
“That's an understatement. I'm still waiting to hear from Doc Nash and Wade.” He shot her a pained glance. “That is, unless they find my mother's fingerprints on the handcuffs. If that happens, I think I'll join the French Foreign Legion.”
“Do they still exist?”
“I don't know. Maybe when you finish painting your nails you could find that out for me. You know, just in case I need to leave town in a hurry.” Tony could have sworn that he heard her laughing as she left the room. He spoke to the open doorway. “It's hard to get good help.”
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
Moments after Ruth Ann departed, Wade arrived.
Strolling into Tony’s office, he said, “Doc had to leave and deliver a baby. He told me to go away and that he would call when he is ready to get back to dealing with the dead.” He carried with him a notebook and a two-liter bottle of ginger ale.
As he watched his deputy lower himself into the chair Ruth Ann had recently vacated, Tony thought that Wade's complexion had not quite returned to normal.
“Why don't you just sit there for a moment and get rehydrated. I'll get Sheila and Mike to come here for a confab.”
With a grateful smile and a nod, Wade broke the seal on the large bottle and lifted it to his lips.
Within minutes, Sheila and Mike joined them. Mike dragged a chair in from the hall and Tony sat on the edge of his desk. Sheila sat in the chair next to Wade. Except for Darren, this little group was Park County's day shift. The night shift was smaller.
Tony looked at Wade. “Tell us about the car. Did you find any usable fingerprints?”
“Not on the outside, I didn't, at least not good ones. I only found some partials on the driver's side door handle and a fairly good smudge on the roof. All that rain sure didn't help any.” He finished the first third of the two-liter bottle. “I'm guessing the owner of the smudges had oil or grease on his fingers or there wouldn't be that much left.”
Tony moved behind his desk and made a note in the file. “What about on the inside?”
Wade shuddered and took another swig. “The handcuffs were totally clean. I mean I couldn't even find a hint of a fingerprint.” He looked at his notes. “There were lots of clear prints on the dash and the inside surfaces of the doors. We found magazines, pop cans, a Bible, and one of those soft leather briefcases.” He looked at Tony. “It was empty, by the way. I haven't had a chance to check those things for fingerprints.” Clearing his throat, he looked disillusioned and a tinge of red rose on his face. “I can tell you that for a preacher, he had pretty raunchy taste in reading material. Real rough stuff.”
“How about our dead guy?” said Tony. “We're you able to
get his prints?” The picture that formed in his mind of a preacher with a stolen license plate and violent pornographic literature made him uneasy. It had to be bad to make the former Marine blush.
“I did my best. The left hand was too swollen and messed up to get any good ones but I got a couple of partials from his right.” He paused to take another long drink. “With those, I'll be able to make a match if he's in the system somewhere. I'll send them out as soon as I can. You just never know.”
Mike took the floor. “You wanted to know who came by that parking lot this morning. That's easy. Every single resident. I swear that the entire population of Park County was there. No strangers. We did find something odd, though.” Apparently thinking about it amused him and he chuckled. “Like nothing else is odd about this case. The key was in the ignition, right?” He waited until everyone nodded. “The key was still turned and the car was in ‘park.’ The only reason that it was not running when we arrived was that the car ran out of gas. I mean it was bone dry.”
Murder by Serpents (Five Star First Edition Mystery) Page 6