When everyone had absorbed that, he continued. “The heater was set on warmest heat setting and the fan on maximum. That's why Doc is having so much trouble with the time of death and why it felt like an oven in there. No telling how much gas it started with or how long it had been stopped. I'm guessing that it ran for several hours.”
“For heaven's sake.” Tony couldn't believe his ears. “Were the headlights on or off?”
“Off.” Mike answered.
“Fingerprints on the key?”
“No, sir.” Wade swallowed more ginger ale and stifled a burp. “I found a few smudges but no real prints.”
Tony thought that his color was improving.
Wade continued his report. “It was the only key on the ring with one of those little remotes. There are a couple of smudged and partial prints on the remote. Again, it is going to take a while to see if we have a match.”
Ruth Ann knocked on the doorframe before strolling into the office with a couple of papers that she handed to Tony. “I ran the vehicle identification number. You'll love what came back on that VIN.”
Tony reached for the paper and scanned it, surprised. It didn't take long to read. He could feel his frown deepening. “Thanks, Ruth Ann.” He glanced at the curious faces that watched him. “Ruth Ann ran the VIN on the Focus. It seems that the vehicle is part of an inventory of cars that belonged to a dealer in Atlanta. The cars were impounded or something because of a pending bankruptcy hearing. According to the report, that car should still be locked up in Georgia. They were surprised to learn that it had been stolen.”
He looked back up at his secretary. “Will you contact Atlanta and see if they know any thing about John Mize? A man who drives a stolen car probably knows it. Quentin did say that his cousin came here from Atlanta and he must have moved there from Maryville.”
She nodded. “Can you believe how many people have moved here from Atlanta? I'd say that most of our new residents come from there. It's almost turned into our population base.”
Tony started to nod when he was distracted by Ruth Ann's fingernails. They now sported tiny white polka dots on the raspberry background. “Did you check with the mayor's wife?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ruth Ann's tone remained light, but the tension lines carved into her face said a lot about the other woman's attitude. “Queen Doreen told me that she was not aware of the license plate being off her car, and then she went on to say that she leaves all the car stuff to her husband and who was I to be interrupting her bridge game anyway?” Her dark eyes blazed and her lifted chin promised retribution. She stalked back to her desk just as her phone began to ring.
Tony turned and faced his deputies. He didn't try to hide his grin when he noticed that each of their expressions suggested that the mayor's wife had better come to a complete stop at every single stop sign and that her annoying little apricot-colored frou-frou dog had better be on a leash in the park. Ruth Ann might be a pain in the backside, but she was theirs. He cleared his throat and waved the papers.
Ruth Ann reappeared in the doorway almost immediately. She looked directly at Wade. “Doc Nash says that the newest resident of Park County has been born and if you don't want to miss the fun of an autopsy, you should get to the morgue right away.” Her eyes twinkled. “He sounded even crankier than usual.”
Wade swallowed the last of the ginger ale in a single giant swallow. A deep rumbling belch followed. The sound echoed in the quiet room. A self-deprecating grin blossomed on his face. “I really hate upchucking without something in my stomach to begin with. I'm ready to go.”
Tony felt a surge of almost fatherly pride. It was a measure of the respect and friendship that existed within this group that no one made a comment. Everyone knew that Wade was tough enough to eat his cereal with battery acid, but the sight of a dead body was guaranteed to produce his last meal. The morning's combination of a hideously messy body and widespread blood spatters had tempted each of them to join him.
Tony considered asking Wade to stay behind to do his computer work on the fingerprints pulled from the car and snake boxes, but he knew that it would not be what the younger man wanted or needed. Wade wanted to be a detective. A good one. One way or another, he would get through the autopsy, even if he had to hold a bucket the entire time.
Tony rose to his feet. “Okay, let's go. I want to be there too.”
He reached for his jacket. “Mike, stay on that car. I'll bet that we can learn something else from it. I'm really curious about how it came to be in our little town when it is supposed to be in Atlanta and why it has that license plate.
“Sheila, find out what Quentin's been up to lately. I doubt that he would know the truth if he sat on it, but make sure you have backup if you go out there. I wouldn't be surprised if he won't be so welcoming on your next visit.” He remembered Quentin's attitude and grinned. “I would like to talk to that female in the house with him. She might have all kinds of information.”
As autopsies go, Tony thought, it was uneventful. No bullets or knife wounds turned up in the body. The worst part was watching Wade try to obtain a set of fingerprints from the corpse. The fingers simply weren't cooperating.
After a single bout with the bucket, Wade observed the rest with apparent interest. Tony wondered if Wade's system could be getting stronger.
According to Doc Nash, nothing obvious indicated that any cause other than the snakebites was responsible for the death. He seemed to think that because of the severity of the reaction that the man would have died even if he had gone directly to the hospital.
Doc Nash wouldn't be through for a while.
Tony decided to go home. He left Wade there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
Theo couldn't believe her ears. The sounds coming up the stairs and through her door sounded like the mob storming the Bastille. “For heaven's sake, Zoe. Maybe I better go help Jane. I'm afraid they'll be calling for the guillotine.”
She hadn't seen this many women in the shop at one time since Super Bowl Sunday. On that day, it had been the promise of great sale prices, door prizes and food that had created the excitement.
“Theo!” Several women shouted her name at the same time. “Do you know who died?”
Theo could only shake her head. Even if she had known, she wouldn't tell anyone until the news was announced. The relatives deserved to know before it hit the gossip lines.
“I know.”
All eyes turned to the speaker. Nellie Pearl Prigmore stood near the front door. The old woman was an avid gossip but not a quilter. “I saw that little car speeding past my house all the time. A lot of the time there was another car following it.”
“Whose car?” Theo wasn't surprised that she saw speeding vehicles pass her house. After all, she did live next to one of the busiest roads in the county.
“Well, how would you expect me to know? It's not like I keep track of my neighbors.” The crotchety old lady cast a venomous glare at a young woman, who let a snort of dissension escape. “It's always going too fast.”
“So who's the dead man?”
“Don't know his name but I can tell you that he's a foreigner.”
Theo knew that only meant that he hadn't been born in the county. It didn't mean that he came from any place more exotic than the next closest town.
She stepped behind the cutting table. Maybe they would sell enough fabric today to make up for the orders that the computer lost.
The backup wizard had worked late into the previous night. He managed to get the system up and running, but so far hadn't been able to restore all of the files.
Jamie and Chris called to tell her that they would be at a friend's house. That was fine with Theo. They had their own area in the studio, but playing with a friend was better.
After a long afternoon, she closed the shop at the regular time and walked to the house.
Tony dragged his body over the threshold. It had been a long day, and he felt more like he expected to fee
l at eighty—and he wasn't even forty. He paused in the narrow foyer of their old house. To his left, he could see Daisy, the family golden retriever, sleeping upside down on the living room couch, her front paws folded against her chest. Gravity pulled her lips away from a formidable set of teeth. She snored softly.
Following the sound of voices, he took two steps down a short hallway toward the kitchen. The large room doubled as the family room. A pair of recliners faced the dark red brick wall that held both a raised fireplace hearth and the television. A sturdy rectangular table separated the family area from the cooking area. An old wood-burning stove shared another brick wall with the electric range.
Theo believed that comfort and history should win all decorating decisions. Small quilts hung on the walls, side by side with family photographs.
When he approached the room, he saw that near the television, Theo was trying to separate six-year-old Jamie and almost eight-year-old Chris. From his vantage point, it looked like Jamie might be winning the battle but if Tony read his wife's expression correctly, the little boy was about to lose the war. Rather than get involved in the dispute, Tony backed away and went upstairs.
Their house had the distinction of being the oldest brick house in Park County. It actually belonged to his wife. Theo had inherited it upon the death of her grandfather who had been a direct descendant of Amoes Siler, the town's founding father.
It had undergone frequent remodeling and additions over the last two hundred years or so. One enterprising family member had decided that the large sash window in the master bedroom was big enough to climb through. He constructed a narrow, private veranda just under the window. The base of it rested on the roof of the true veranda. Barely large enough for a pair of chairs and a tiny table, Tony loved it. It was almost as much fun as a tree house. Tonight it felt like an escape, like running away, as he climbed through the window and settled onto a sagging wicker rocking chair. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes.
On any normal evening, he would lock his gun in the downstairs safe and change clothes as soon as he returned home. Tonight he believed that would take more energy than he possessed. He hadn't decided whether or not to wear his uniform when he left to attend the evening service at the Church of the Divine Revelation. Knowing the way news traveled through Silersville, all of the members of the congregation should already know about Mize's death. There might not even be anyone in attendance tonight at the motel office. Those thoughts brought up the question of what his mother and aunt wanted with the old motel.
Using his cell phone, he dialed his mother's number. Her voice on the machine chirped, telling him to leave a message. He didn't bother, but sat back gazing out at the community that he'd promised to protect.
Relaxing in the soft darkness of evening, he thought that everything in his little town looked so peaceful. In the park across the road, the trees were preparing for spring, coming back to life. Tony could almost smell the changes in the air. Soon the magnolias, redbuds and the remaining ancient oaks would provide welcome shade. A stand of dogwoods grew directly across the street from their house. In only a couple of weeks, the small trees would be covered with clouds of pale pink blossoms. So far these trees had not succumbed to the deadly anthracnose that had started decimating dogwoods several years ago, moving like the plague through the area.
In the cultivated flowerbeds, the tulip bulbs were sprouting. The Park County Garden Club, in a joint project with the Chamber of Commerce, had purchased and planted the bulbs. He knew where they grew even though it was too dark to see the long green leaves and fat buds.
In his head, he could hear the complaints already. The deer loved the tulips as much as the gardeners hated the deer. Every year, one crabby garden enthusiast would come to him and order him to shoot the deer when he saw them in the flowerbeds. Ridiculous. Tony always said that they should plant daffodils because the deer did not like to eat them.
Although the small creek that ran along the side of the house and then cut diagonally through the park was normally lazy, it increased in size and strength with each day of melting snow in the higher elevations. This winter brought more snow than usual. If spring continued the trend of increased moisture, they would have to keep an eye on the creek and make sure it didn't overflow its banks. A couple of years ago, it had flooded about twenty homes in the lowest area of town.
Theo joined him on the veranda. “Are you okay? You looked a bit pale when you got home.” She carried a tray and set it on the small table at his elbow. “I thought you might need a snack to hold you until dinner. I ordered from that new pizza place, and I'm not sure when dinner is going to arrive.”
Surprised that she had seen him, he smiled at her. It felt like the first time that he had smiled all day. “Thanks, sweetheart. It's been a long day and it's not over yet. If I had lunch today, I don't remember it, and I have to go back out in a little while.” He examined the mini-feast of crackers, cheddar cheese, sliced summer sausage and two mugs of hot cider. Using more force than necessary, he speared a slice of sausage with a toothpick and dipped it in a puddle of mustard before slapping it on a cracker. He popped the whole thing into his mouth and chewed as he reached for the cider.
Theo nodded. “I guessed that. You always lock your gun away as soon as you get home.” Picking a slice of cheese from the plate, Theo settled on her chair and nibbled the edge, holding it with both hands like a mouse. She adjusted her glasses with the back of her hand and inspected him. “At least it's a nice evening.”
“I'm afraid that it's lost on me tonight.” He had another loaded cracker in his mouth when he started to talk, and little crumbs flew out, landing on her pale blue fleece shirt.
Theo glared at him and swiped a hand across the front of her shirt, sending the crumbs to the wood planks at her feet.
“Sorry about that.” He finished his cracker. “With the fine mood I'm in, I have been sitting here thinking about diseased dogwoods, flooding creeks and old man Ferguson calling and wanting me to shoot the deer.” He heard Theo snort. The inelegant sound was like music to his ears, forcing him to smile.
“If that stubborn old coot wouldn't insist on planting those little lavender tulips every year there would be more flowers and less controversy.” Theo warmed to the topic, stabbing the air with her toothpick. “He absolutely refuses to admit that those bulbs are more expensive than the others are even when it is written out in black and white. I think that they must make sweeter flowers, too, because the deer always eat those first and then often leave the less expensive red and yellow ones alone.”
Tony sighed and began to relax. He didn't want to ask what the boys had been doing, but he did anyway.
Theo stopped in the process of reaching for another piece of cheese and peered at him over the top of the lenses. “Not much, just the regular stuff.” She giggled. “You know that Jamie can't stand it if Chris ignores him and will just pick and pick at him until he gets a reaction.”
Tony laughed. That behavior was definitely the regular one. All of the family knew how it worked. Only Jamie didn't realize that Chris ignored him on purpose to stir up trouble. Thinking about the boys, he said, “Are the quilters bowling tonight?”
“Yes.” Her curls bounced as she nodded several times for emphasis. “Since you're going out, do I need to get a babysitter or will you be back soon?”
“I shouldn't be very long. If they go to the shop with you, I'll pick them up after I talk with a few people.” He could tell that she wanted to ask him for details but his expression kept her silent. “Your little group is always full of information. Maybe you can find out what they know about the Mize family and about the Church of Divine Revelation.”
That caught Theo's attention and she lifted her eyebrows, silently inviting him to tell her more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
* * *
As he pulled into the parking lot, Tony noticed that the worn, drab, motel office/church took on a welcoming glow after dark. A string of multicolore
d Christmas lights connected the building to an illuminated rollout sign. On a brilliant yellow background, bold black letters pronounced “Be Saved—Me ting Now.” There were about ten or twelve vehicles parked in the lot. Most of them were older model sedans and full-size pickup trucks. A single motorcycle stood next to a small, black, four-wheel-drive truck. Like Quentin's, the truck had flames painted on the sides. Unlike Quentin's, it sported a rack of roof lights that Tony thought rivaled those on his official vehicle. He parked next to it.
After much deliberation, Tony had changed from his chocolate brown and khaki uniform into a pair of jeans, a lightweight gray sweater and a thigh-length black leather coat. With the coat unbuttoned, the shoulder holster with the big Glock didn't make too much of a bulge.
There didn't seem to be any sense in arriving at this little gathering in full uniform. He didn't want to run them off. He needed information and knew that sometimes his badge and uniform shut as many doors as it opened. The congregation might fear legal action because, as far as he knew, there might still be one state that didn't have laws against using snakes in religious meetings. That state was not Tennessee.
Murder by Serpents (Five Star First Edition Mystery) Page 7