by Lia Farrell
“Did Detective Nichols give you any contact information for this Jacko?” Rob asked, poised to write down the information.
“Sure did. He lives in one of the old run-down apartment complexes on Charlotte Pike in Nashville. Dory has the address and phone number.”
“Could you pass those donuts, please, Sheriff?” George asked. Ben handed the box to Dory, who was seated between them.
Dory ostentatiously withdrew a small plastic baggie of celery and carrot sticks from her purse, helped herself to a few, and pushed the white donut box down the line to George. She eagle-eyed George as he pulled three donuts from the box. When Rob pulled out two of her former favorites, blueberry, Dory could stand it no longer.
“You keep eating like that, Rob, and your belly’s going to be bigger than George’s.” She gave him a disapproving stare.
“Jeez, Dory, do you have to start in on me so early in the morning?” Rob asked.
“If you keep eating donuts at that rate, your gut will get so big you won’t be able to find your own man business,” Dory said. Rob colored and everyone else cracked up.
“Okay, enough with the comedy. Let’s get back to work,” Ben said. There were a few more snickers, but Ben kept a straight face and the mood grew serious again. “Do you have the paperwork from Mr. Yancey yet, for his stolen building materials?” he asked Rob.
“His wife emailed the receipts to me this morning. She apologized for how ‘difficult’ he can be, nice lady.”
“Difficult is one way to put it. When I left the office yesterday, I drove through a new subdivision near Mr. Yancey’s project, and I think I might have spotted at least some of Yancey’s missing materials. Look at this,” the sheriff said, pulling out his phone. He enlarged one corner of the image on his camera. “See? There at the bottom of the hill. What does that look like to you, Detective?” Ben pointed to several bulky snow-topped cubes covered with tarps.
Rob Fuller looked down at the picture and back at his boss. The corner of his mouth quirked up on one side and he nodded.
“Someone hid those stolen materials in plain sight,” Rob said. “I’ll check out who owns that property.”
“It might not be all of Yancey’s missing materials, but it’s probably the pallets of marble flooring,” Ben said.
“Sheriff, where is Detective Nichols this morning?” Dory asked. “I thought he’d be here.”
“He’s working at home today,” Ben told her.
Having worked with the man now for several years, Ben knew that Detective Wayne Nichols often came in late to the office, unless there was a major crime to investigate. Since he often worked nights in bars and on the streets meeting with confidential informants, and was so good at nailing the perpetrators, everyone gave him the benefit of the doubt when he didn’t show for routine staff meetings.
The sheriff continued handing out assignments for other lower level thefts, checking on the drunk tank, DUIs, spouse abuse complaints, and an assortment of other matters. As the meeting was coming to a close, Ben said, “I wanted all of you to know that Dory got a tip on a puppy mill from an anonymous whistle blower. She called the ASPCA because there may be animal cruelty involved. The property belongs to a guy named Jerrod Clifton. Dory, did you find anything in the system on him?”
“Couple of speeding tickets. The guy has a heavy foot, but that was all.”
“Okay. I’ve appointed Dory as the investigator for this case.”
“Congratulations, Miss Dory,” Cam said in her soft voice. Dory beamed.
Ben had a lunch appointment at noon to meet Patrick West, Tammy’s boyfriend, at Nadine’s, a little dive on the outskirts of Rosedale. He was guessing that Patrick wanted to discuss the baby, or possibly Ben’s own experience being a single dad. Ben had a son named Matthew. He had learned of his son’s existence when he was four years old and Katie, Matthew’s mother and Ben’s former fiancé, moved back to Rosedale and informed him that he was a father. Although Ben’s initial reaction had been far from positive, less than a year later, he couldn’t imagine life without his little boy.
Wondering how Patrick had reacted to the news of his own impending fatherhood, Ben walked into the restaurant. The full-figured, redheaded proprietor gave him a big smile.
“Hello, Sheriff Bradley, how’re you doing today, hon?”
“Just fine, Miss Nadine. How ’bout yourself? What’s cooking?”
“Well, I just devilled up some eggs to go along with the sugar bacon we got in. Randy’s making some hot chicken back there right now, and we’ve got biscuits and gravy, of course.”
Ben spotted Patrick West, Noah’s younger brother, who waved at him from a booth near the window in the rear of the crowded dining room. “There’s my friend. Good to see you, ma’am. I’ll try not to order one of each.”
Nadine chuckled. “Go sit down, Sheriff. Shelby will be by with some coffee in a minute.”
Ben made his way past the counter and between the tables, exchanging greetings and complaints about the unusually cold weather with several of Nadine’s other customers. He sat down across from Patrick. “Been here long?” he asked.
“I got here five minutes ago,” Patrick said. Lean, tall, and dark-haired, he wore his familiar wide smile. He strongly resembled his big brother, Noah, who had been engaged to Mae before a traffic accident claimed his life. “Haven’t even seen a waitress yet. This place is packed.”
“Well, I’m glad you wanted to meet here.” Ben looked around the dingy, crowded space. “I love the food, but Mae won’t come here. Says she goes up a size just thinking about it.”
“I know. Tammy won’t eat here either. Speaking of going up a size ….” He paused while Shelby poured a coffee for each of them and quickly took their orders. As soon as the waitress was gone he looked at Ben and said, “I just got some big news the other day. Tammy’s pregnant.”
“Whoa. Congratulations, right?” Patrick was smiling, so Ben figured this was good news.
“Yep. We’re getting married, so congratulations are definitely in order. And I’d like to ask you to be my best man.”
“I’d be honored. Listen, Patrick, I don’t mean to pry, but I don’t know what you do for a living. And you know kids are expensive, right?” Ben laughed. “At least mine is.”
Patrick looked down at the table for a second, then back up at Ben. “Mae never told you, I guess.” He gave a little sigh. “I’m in graduate school, getting my MFA in creative writing. But that doesn’t explain where my money comes from, does it?” His cheeks reddened and he frowned slightly.
Ben was intrigued. “No, it doesn’t, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“My grandparents set up a trust fund,” Patrick said in a quiet voice. “In the beginning, Noah and I both had one, but the money in Noah’s trust came to me after he died. My mother’s family has oil money—tobacco on my father’s side. That meant Noah could pursue his songwriting dreams while he was alive, and now I can stay in school as long as I want and then write. And I can support a wife and child.”
Ben could tell that Patrick was uncomfortable discussing finances and quickly changed the subject. “Well, are you going to want a blowout bachelor party, or something more low key?”
The two men discussed ideas for the bachelor party while eating their delicious, high-fat meals. They had both ordered deep-fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fluffy dinner rolls, and collard greens with iced tea and sweet potato pie. Finishing the last bite, Ben suddenly realized how long he’d been away from the office.
“I’ve got to get back to work, Patrick,” he told his young friend. “But thanks again for asking me to be your best man—and for raising my cholesterol levels.”
He drove back to the office, mulling over Patrick’s life-changing news. Maybe it’s time for me to start looking for a ring for Mae. His phone rang and he saw Mae’s face on the screen.
Chapter Six
January 7th
Mae December
Lulu was another story. The Louisiana leopard hound, also known as a Catahoula, had checked in yesterday. Her owner, a local sportsman, had trained her to be a retriever. Large and spotted with a short coat, she was typical of her breed in being very high energy—a field dog, not a house pet. She leaped to her feet when Mae came to her kennel, assuming an alert and intelligent expression. She seemed poised for action and not particularly interested in the food Mae put in her dish.
“Hello, Lulu.” Mae gave her a considering look. “I need some exercise today and I bet you wouldn’t mind a walk.”
At the word “walk,” the big dog jumped up and put her paws on the wire mesh of her kennel cage. She stared at Mae and gave a small growling whine that seemed to indicate her approval.
“Okay, let me go take care of a few things first and then we’ll head out.” Lulu’s long, spotted tail swooped from side to side.
Mae went back to her historic farmhouse, which was at last completely renovated after three-plus years of work. She returned some emails and cleaned up her kitchen, then took a quick shower. She dried her willful thick blonde hair and ponytailed it, then applied some lotion and lip balm and got dressed. Going downstairs, she got her cellphone and purse and put on warm hiking boots. She found her hat and gloves and put her barn jacket on over her sweatshirt and jeans. She grabbed a protein bar for her breakfast and went back to the barn to get Lulu.
Her friend and hair-stylist Kim was an avid hiker and had recently told Mae about a nature preserve with some challenging trails. The trail she had told her about ran along the north side of the Little Harpeth River. Mae thought this would be a good day to check it out. Lulu’s owner, Ray Crowell, had told her that Lulu was a “highly trained” field dog who didn’t need a leash, but Mae brought a stout one anyway. Since this would be a new trail for her, she didn’t want to worry about Lulu running off. Her recent experience with getting lost in a snowstorm was very fresh in her mind, so she buttoned her fully charged phone into the pocket of her jacket before she even started her car.
Mae looked in her rearview mirror as she was buckling her seatbelt and laughed at the look of excited impatience in Lulu’s eyes. The young hound was whining again, and moving back and forth in the cargo area of Mae’s SUV.
“Sit, Lulu.” Mae said in a loud, firm voice.
Lulu sat, and they were on their way. Kim had texted directions to Mae’s phone, and she knew it would be a drive of almost half an hour. The outside temperature display on her dashboard read twenty-nine degrees, but the sun was out and everything sparkled. Mae cranked up her radio and enjoyed the ride, alternating between a country station and a Motown and classic soul station she’d recently discovered, singing along at the top of her lungs.
She found the nature preserve parking area with no problem. The gravel lot was deserted. Good thing I’ve got a big dog with me. Lulu wouldn’t harm anyone, but she had a look of deceptive ferocity, due to her large size and wild markings. She clipped the heavy duty leash onto Lulu’s collar and found the marker for the blue trail, which Kim had said was her favorite. The big dog surged ahead, sniffing and pausing to pee every few yards. They stayed on the path, following the blue arrows every time there was a fork in the trail, and ended up down near the bank of the Little Harpeth River. The sun was beginning to warm the air, and Mae took off her gloves and paused to put them in her pocket with the cellphone. Lulu tugged hard on the leash suddenly and seemed to be headed right to the edge of the dark, fast-moving water.
Mae pulled back on the leash, shouting “Lulu, no!” but she was no match for the strength and determination of the eighty pound dog. Mae stumbled and grabbed a tree to steady herself. The leash slipped out of her grip and Lulu jumped down onto a rock ledge, sniffing at something at the very edge of the water. The hound sat down, threw her head back and howled. Mae got a clear view of what Lulu had been sniffing, let out a scream and jumped down to grab Lulu’s leash.
A man lay face down, with one arm trailing in the water. His flannel shirt and brown corduroy pants were wet and covered with debris from the river. His face was turned away, but the skin on his neck and the hand on the side nearest her was a horrible shade of pale blue and dotted with mud. Mae pulled Lulu back and knotted the leash over a branch, then went back to kneel on the rocky ledge by the water. She tentatively touched the man’s hand. It was cold and stiff, like a partially defrosted steak. Mae gagged, tasting coffee and the protein bar she’d had earlier.
Standing back up, she swallowed convulsively and shook her head. Mae took several deep breaths. There was nothing she could do for this poor man. No ambulance could save him. I don’t need to call 911, I need Ben. She went over to Lulu, who had stopped howling and was emitting a low, steady moan.
“It’s all right, Lulu.” Mae retrieved the leash and patted her on the smooth dome of her head. She and the big dog clambered up the bank. They were almost back to the trail when Lulu took off, pulling hard on the leash. Mae slipped on the icy mud and put her left hand down to break her fall. She heard something snap and felt a sharp pang in her wrist. For a minute she lay there, smelling the wet leaves right under her nose. Lulu sat down beside her head and licked Mae’s cheek. She heard a low whimpering sound and realized it wasn’t the dog. Forcing herself to look at her wrist, she was horrified to see her hand bent at an unnatural angle. Oh, God, it’s broken.
Mae rolled to her right side and used her uninjured hand to push herself to her feet. She walked slowly and carefully the last few steps to the trail and dropped the handle of Lulu’s leash. Her owner claimed that Lulu didn’t need it anyway.
“Sit, Lulu. Stay.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and entered Ben’s number with her thumb, cradling her bent hand against her chest and standing where she could see the body. The sun was still bright, but she couldn’t feel any of its warmth. The water rippled past, and the man’s arm floated. Tugged by the current, it was the only part of him that still seemed alive.
“Hey, beautiful. I was just thinking about you,” Ben responded on the second ring.
“Ben, I found a man, by the river.” Her words rushed out in a voice that was pitched much higher than normal. “I think he must have drowned.”
“Hold on. Are you sure he’s dead? I can call an ambulance.”
She took a shaky breath. “Yes, he’s very cold. And his skin looks sort of … blue. But I might need an ambulance.” She fought back a wave of pain and nausea. “I think my wrist is broken.”
“What? Why didn’t you say so?” Ben’s voice got louder in her ear. “Where are you right now? Are you still beside the body?”
“I’m a little ways off. I can see him from here, but I pulled Lulu away and climbed back up to the trail after I made sure he was dead. That’s when I hurt my wrist.”
“Who’s Lulu?”
“She’s a new boarder that came to the kennel yesterday. I was walking her near the river at that nature preserve off North Branch Road.”
“Okay. You and Lulu stay right where you are. I’m on my way, and I’ll have an ambulance and Dr. Estes, our Medical Examiner, meet us there.”
“Why do you need Dr. Estes?�
� Mae asked.
“We need to be sure it was a natural death.”
“Oh,” Mae replied softly. She cleared her throat. “Will you be able to take Lulu back to my house and stay there tonight if they decide to admit me?”
“As soon as Dr. Estes is done, I’ll give Lulu a ride, and then I’ll meet you at the ER. Hang on, Mae. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Mae put the phone back in her pocket, then lowered herself to the ground and leaned against Lulu. She looked at her hand again. Hanging against her chest, it looked as limp and lifeless as the dead man. She quickly closed her eyes. Strangely enough, her injured wrist was the only place on her body that felt warm. Mae shivered and put her good arm around Lulu. Together, she and the big dog waited for Ben.
Chapter Seven
January 8th
Dory Clarkson
The sheriff’s office had swung into high gear after Ben informed the staff that Mae had found a dead body in the Little Harpeth River and then broken her wrist. After seeing Mae into the ambulance Ben said that it had taken him and Dr. Estes only minutes to determine that the man, as yet unidentified, had been stabbed to death. They now had a murder, and Sheriff Bradley wanted his team working 24/7. Their second major case, the copper theft ring, also required investigation.
Ben asked Dory to release the medical examiner’s photographs of the anonymous drowning victim they called John Doe to the Nashville police post. Sheriff Bradley told her he was reluctant to post photographs of a dead man in the media or online, feeling that it raised anxiety in the community. A competent police artist could draw the man as though he were alive, however, and the drawing could potentially be used to identify the victim.