by Terry Odell
Gordon smiled at the boy. “A lot of times, police officers have to get information from citizens—people like you. I need some help. Will you answer a few questions?” He took his notebook from his pocket.
Another glance at his parents. Mrs. Webber nodded and her lips flattened even thinner. “Just tell the truth, Declan.”
“Okay,” Declan said. But he avoided his parents’ eyes.
“Great. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened when you were at the Kretzers’ party and the dogs ran away,” Gordon said.
Declan nodded solemnly. “We were throwing sticks. Artie was fetching. He took the stick and ran away.” He tucked his chin to his chest.
“What about Midnight?” Gordon asked. The dog, lying at Declan’s feet, pricked up his ears at the mention of his name. “Was he fetching, too?”
“Yes,” Declan mumbled. He cast a pleading look at his parents. “I know you said to leave him in the yard, but Joey brought Artie, and Midnight wanted to play, too.”
Two pairs of eyebrows lifted. “Declan,” both parents said simultaneously.
“So you and Joey were playing with the dogs.” Gordon cut off any parental disapproval. When he’d called, Gordon reassured the parents that all he wanted was information. He’d conveniently left out the real reason for his visit, and let them assume it was about the runaway dogs. No mention of the bone. Not a lie. Gordon wondered why he was so reluctant to divulge that the stick was really a bone.
Because if it turns out to be nothing, you’ll look like an overreacting idiot.
“Were you at the party yesterday?” Gordon asked Mr. and Mrs. Webber.
“I was, but only for a short time, early on,” Mrs. Webber said. “Nicholas coaches soccer, and he was at the game. There were quite a few children playing in the Kretzers’ yard, so I told Declan he could join them. If he behaved himself, of course. I came back to the house.” She twisted her lips in what Gordon assumed was an apologetic smile. “Saturday is my laundry day, and I hate to get behind.”
“You didn’t realize Midnight wasn’t home?” Gordon said.
Mrs. Webber shook her head. “No. We leave him in the yard during the day. I never thought to check.”
Between the mother and Declan, Gordon had an approximate timeline. Joey’s family had arrived with Artie after Mrs. Webber left. Declan had dashed home and surreptitiously brought Midnight back to the party. “He gets so bored stuck in the yard all day,” Declan had said. They’d been throwing sticks, although Midnight was more of an observer than a fetcher.
“Artie was gone for a while,” Declan said. “He came back with a stick in his mouth and then started running down the street. We went after him. That’s when you saw us.”
Gordon thanked Declan and turned to the parents. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like Declan to show me exactly where they were playing.”
“Over some game of fetch and a couple of runaway dogs?” Nicholas Webber said. He took another pull of his beer. “That wasn’t an ordinary stick, was it? Not if it’s bringing the Chief of Police to our house on a Sunday.”
Suddenly wishing he’d taken Mr. Webber up on that offer of a beer, Gordon avoided the question. Even though he’d solved Mapleton’s first homicide in as long as anyone could remember, Gordon felt he was constantly on review. The mayor wanted reports every time Gordon turned around, nit-picked the budget to death, and never seemed satisfied with Gordon’s approach to managing staff. The classic micro-manager, the mayor was always looking for ways to get his name in the paper. And his picture, usually with his trophy wife at his side, gazing at him with adoration, her quotes always starting with, “Martin Alexander, my husband, the mayor.” Said trophy wife worked hard to be visible, doing good work for the citizens of Mapleton. Of course, she was likely to disappear as soon as the press left.
Mrs. Webber’s whine interrupted Gordon’s pity party. “I don’t see why you’re bothering us. It was Joey Shore’s dog that started all the trouble. Why aren’t you questioning them?”
“It wasn’t really trouble. Just something I need to follow up on. I’m going to ask the Shores to meet us,” Gordon said. “Artie might lead us to the spot, and I’d like both boys to show me where they were playing. “
After calling the Shores, who agreed to help, Gordon alerted the Kretzers that they’d be scouting around in the woods near their home. And, of course, had to promise to stop by for a nosh when he was finished. Knowing Rose, it would be a full-blown meal.
“Can I ride with you?” Declan asked. “In your police car?”
His mother frowned, but his father nodded approval. “If it’s okay with Chief Hepler. I’ll follow.”
When Gordon agreed, Declan beamed. “Can we use the sirens?”
Gordon chuckled. “Sorry, those are for emergencies only. But you can listen to the radio.”
“Cool.” Declan raced out the door and waited by Gordon’s SUV.
After stressing the importance of not touching anything, Gordon drove Declan the short distance to the Kretzers’ house. Mr. Webber pulled in behind him. A moment later, a light-colored Subaru stopped at the curb. Joey jumped out and dashed up the driveway.
“Guess what?” Declan said. “I got to ride in the police car.”
“Really?” Joey said. He gazed longingly toward the vehicle, and Gordon figured he’d be giving Joey a ride before long.
A stocky man, dressed in jeans and a Broncos sweatshirt, approached with Artie on a leash. He nodded to Mr. Webber. “Nick. Heard the Marvels won yesterday. Good job.” Then he smiled and extended a hand to Gordon. “Jake Shore. My son, Joey.” He pointed to the dog. “And this is Artie. How can we help, Chief Hepler?”
“I’m counting on Artie to do the work.” Gordon crouched and addressed the boys. “Joey’s dad is going to keep Artie on his leash. I want you to show me where you were playing when Artie ran into the woods. I hope Artie will try to go back to where he found the… stick.”
Gordon rose and the men exchanged a surreptitious There’s more, but not in front of the kids look. He knew they expected—and deserved—an explanation.
The boys exchanged the equivalent in eye rolls. Gordon clearly got the implied Grownups. Always treating us like kids.
He had no clue how to explain what they were doing and figured he’d wait until they asked questions. And hoped their fathers would answer.
“Okay, let’s go,” Joey said.
“One minute while I get my second-best tool,” Gordon said. He reached into his vehicle and retrieved his flashlight.
“A flashlight?” Joey frowned. “It’s daytime.”
“Ah, but it will be darker in the woods. Lots of shadows. A flashlight can show us things in a new way, especially when we shine it at an angle. It lets us see things we might miss.”
The boys nodded. A light shone in Declan’s eyes. “You said that was your second-best tool. What’s your first? Your gun?”
Gordon shook his head. “No. Police officers carry guns, but they hope they never have to use them.”
“So what is it?” Joey asked.
Gordon tapped his temple. “My brain. Most of my job is thinking about things, and trying to figure them out.”
Gordon wasn’t sure the boys were suitably impressed. But they seemed to ponder it for a moment, then looked at each other and nodded, as if they’d agreed he might possibly be right.
“Shall we get going?” Gordon said.
Joey and Declan led the way. “We were playing over there.” Joey pointed toward the edge of the Kretzers’ lawn, where the landscaping gave way to natural growth. “I had an old tennis ball, but Artie didn’t bring it back. We looked, but couldn’t find it, so we started throwing a stick.”
“Artie’s not very good at fetch,” Declan said. “Half the time he didn’t bring back anything, or it was a different stick.”
Joey fisted his hands. “Hey, at least he played. Midnight just sat there.”
“Boys, let’s do what Chief Hepler a
sked,” Jake Shore said. “Show him exactly where you were playing.”
“Over there, I guess,” Declan said, pointing into the trees.
They’d gone about twenty yards into the woods when Jake spoke. “He wants to go that way.” Jake pointed to his left. The dog strained at his leash.
“That’s what we’re here for,” Gordon said. “Let’s go.”
By now, they were at the far perimeter of the Kretzers’ property. Leaves and twigs crunched under their feet as they worked their way deeper into the woods. Gordon shone his flashlight back and forth along the path where Artie tugged his owner along. The boys pointed, elbowed each other, and whispered, sharing their new secret. At least that’s what Gordon hoped they were talking about, and not about how stupid it was to use a flashlight at midday.
As Artie’s barking grew more frantic, Gordon paused. Were they trampling over what might be evidence? He weighed the options. If there was anything to be found, might it be something best not seen by young eyes? Artie’s barking quieted to a soft whimper. From about twenty yards ahead, Jake called out. “He’s digging.”
“Hold him back.” Gordon figured from this point, he’d make a quick survey of the area and let the Webbers and Shores go home. “Wait up.”
Joey and Declan halted, gazing up at him with wide eyes. Nicholas Webber’s held more questions than admiration.
Gordon met his gaze. “Sir, I’m going to check out what Artie found. Will you wait with the boys, please?” The man’s expression said he didn’t particularly like taking orders—probably got enough of that from his wife—but he grunted an affirmative.
Gordon turned to the boys. “You’ve been a big help. Now, I need you to wait here with Mr. Webber while I go check with Mr. Shore.”
The boys’ faces fell, but they begrudgingly shuffled to a fallen log and sat.
Gordon dodged low-hanging branches and hopped over deadfall as he closed the distance to Jake. Artie sat at Jake’s side, quivering.
“Don’t know what’s got him so excited,” Jake said. “He’s normally an easy-going fella.”
“I can handle it from here,” Gordon said. “You can take Joey and the dog home, and let Mr. Webber know he’s free to go as well.”
Jake frowned, but he pulled Artie around and tapped his thigh. “Let’s go, boy. Let’s find Joey.” He paused a moment, and gave Gordon an even stare. “You are going to tell me what this is all about, aren’t you?”
“I hope it’s about nothing. And please don’t mention it to anyone but Mr. Webber at this time.” Gordon waited.
“The wives are going to want to know,” Jake said. “And so are the kids.”
Gordon knew that was coming. And he also knew that the boys would be sharing the fact that they’d helped the police with anyone who would listen. He searched his brain for a logical explanation.
“The stick Artie found, as you surmised, wasn’t a stick at all. It was a bone. We haven’t identified it yet”—not a complete lie—“but I’m trying to find the exact spot Artie found it.”
“In case there are more,” Jake said. “And it must be human, or you wouldn’t be bothering.”
“That’s it. But until I find something—or don’t find something—it’s better that it’s kept quiet.” He tried for a laugh. “Can’t have all the citizens of Mapleton digging in the Kretzers’ woods. I hope to know something in a day or two.”
Jake looked thoughtful for a moment. “The kids had a time capsule project at school this month. What if you told them the Kretzers had buried their own capsule out here and marked it with a stick. It’s full of personal mementos, and they’re afraid they’ll never find it without the marker. So when they thought Artie had stolen their marker, they called you.”
Gordon nodded appreciatively. “That could work. At least for the kids.”
“I can spin it,” Jake said.
Gordon shook Jake’s hand. “Thanks.”
Once Jake and the dog were out of sight, Gordon perused the area. Even in the deep shadows he could see spots of freshly turned dirt, all of it confined to one small area. Artie’s doing, Gordon figured. After documenting the overall scene with his pocket camera, he crept closer, crouching near the pile of dirt. Given nothing nearby looked disturbed, he figured contamination wasn’t a problem. But he pulled a pair of gloves on anyway.
Then he used his flashlight. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told the boys what an effective tool it was. The oblique light revealed what looked like a stripped branch protruding from the ground. Had he not been looking for it, he’d never have recognized it for what it was.
Another bone.
Chapter 7
In the Kretzers’ living room, Gordon set his coffee cup on the cherry end table. He sensed the conflicting emotions in Rose. Pierce Asel was her dream guest, enjoying several helpings of everything Rose offered him. And since there were plenty of leftovers from yesterday’s party, she had a lot to offer.
On the other hand, the only reason Asel was sitting in Rose’s living room was because he’d identified several more bones as human. Rose, of course, had insisted he make time for a nosh while he explained their findings. She hadn’t had to twist his arm. On either front.
Asel’s enthusiasm had been evident as he’d described how he’d identified the first bone as human, and how the ones they’d found today seemed to match. Heck, Gordon was starting to like the man. He’d sounded excited when Gordon had called, and had shown up in record time. They’d excavated the area, carefully extracting the bones. A cursory search of the surrounding area hadn’t revealed anything, but short of digging up acres of woodland, there was no way of knowing whether there were more bones.
Gordon watched Asel spoon a generous dollop of whipped cream from a cut-crystal bowl into his coffee cup. Kaffee mit Schlag, Rose called it. Although he normally took his coffee black, Rose had convinced him to make the exception. It made her happy, and to tell the truth, he enjoyed the way the decadently rich, thick cream melted into Rose’s aromatic brew.
“So,” Rose said. “What you are telling me is someone buried bones in our yard? How could this be?” She stared at the empty spot on the couch beside her. “Sam should be here to hear this. But nothing stops his pinochle game on Sundays.”
Reluctantly, Gordon shifted his thoughts from whipped cream and pastries, and men playing cards, to the newly discovered bones. “We can’t say for certain they’re inside your property line. I’m going to have to get the official surveys. But we’re going to be investigating. For starters, how long have you and Sam lived in this house?”
“Since 1959,” Rose said. “Newlyweds, almost, when we came to Mapleton. We never knew about any bones.”
Asel wolfed down a finger sandwich and raised his hand. He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “I don’t think the bones have been in the yard that long. Thirty, forty years, but that’s only a guess right now.”
Rose’s eyes popped open. “You mean someone buried them while we were living here?”
“They’re not close to the house, Rose. Easy enough for someone to sneak in at night—maybe while you weren’t home to notice. We’re not even positive they’re on your property.”
“Still, I don’t like it. Megan—she used to play in the woods with her friends. Like little pirates, even. Digging for treasure. Mein Gott. They might have stumbled across a graveyard.”
“Where is Megan?” Gordon asked. “I’d like to talk to her, too.”
“She and Justin went for a run around the lake,” Rose said. “They said they had some catching up to do.” Her eyes twinkled. “They do seem to be getting along now—much better than when they were children.”
“Who are Megan and Justin?” Asel asked.
“Justin is our grandson.” Rose beamed with pride. “He lives in Washington state and works at a school where he helps keep teens out of trouble. He got a big promotion and is in charge of new curriculum. And Megan is our ward. We raised her from the age of five, when her parents
died. She lives in San Diego. She’s a big meeting planner. Travels all over the place. But if the bones have been there thirty years, that was before Megan came to live with us. You can’t possibly think either of them is involved.”
Gordon shook his head. “No, of course not. But I still need to talk to them.”
Asel stood. “Mrs. Kretzer, thank you for your hospitality, but I have to go. I need to get the bones we found to the lab.”
Rose popped up. “Let me fix you a plate.” She bustled into the kitchen.
“I’ve had plenty,” Asel said, but there was no protest in his tone.
Gordon smiled at Asel. “She’s happiest when she’s feeding people.”
“And I’m happy when people feed me.” He patted his belly. “No secret there.”
Rose returned with a foil-wrapped plate, extending it to Asel. “It was nice meeting you. You will tell us if you learn anything, yes?”
“I will,” Asel said.
Gordon walked Asel to his van. “Let me know as soon as you get any results. Even knowing the gender would narrow my search.”
“Kind of a Catch-22,” Asel said. “Unless we have a reason to suspect homicide, determining identity is low priority. But until we have an idea of who the deceased was, we have nothing to push it higher up the queue.”
“I’ll see if I can get a cadaver dog out here. How confident are you that the bones belong to the same body?”
“They’re clearly a radius and ulna. Lower arm bones. And the little ones we found are bones from the hand.”
“Yeah. So what we have is an arm. One arm. Odds are all the bones came from the same person.”
Asel opened the passenger door of the van and set the plate onto the seat. “Agreed.”
“You know what twists my gut?”
Asel’s chin bobbed. “I think so. That there might be other body parts scattered all over the place. That we have a killer who dismembered his victim.”
“There have to be other more… innocent… possibilities.”