“I’ll bet it’s Richard, coming late,” Rose said as we waited for LaVonna to answer the door.
We all stood up and stretched, and most of the group clustered around Praxythea asking her questions about whether or not she was conscious when having a vision, and if there were no ghosts present, how did she know the murderer had the diamond?
She explained that when she concentrated on a subject, she went into a sort of trance, where she was still aware of her surroundings, but could also see other places and people.
“I think I communicated with a spirit,” she said. “A spirit is not the same thing as a ghost. A ghost is a part of the human soul, which is sometimes left on earth when a person dies, especially if the person died feeling he had left something undone. Spirits exist on a separate level. They are all around us and aren’t necessarily human. Ancient cultures knew the spirits of water, air, fire, trees, and so on. Then, when more people believed in them, they actively participated in our world. Now, they get to visit only through a few chosen people like myself.”
Bunch of bullshit in my opinion. Take away that beautiful face, fabulous body, and see-through blouse, and see how much attention she’d get.
LaVonna came into the room, accompanied by two filthy children, a boy and a girl. Their clothes were torn, and fresh blood had turned the dirt on their skin to mud.
“Someone call the police,” LaVonna said shakily. “These children say they found a dead body down by the road.”
Michael ran into the hall and used the phone there to make a quick call.
Mrs. Seligman sat the frightened children down on a small Victorian settee and murmured soothing words to them.
That’s when I noticed that the black box I’d seen in the corner earlier was gone.
“Where’s the box?” I blurted out.
“What box?” Michael asked as he came back into the room.
“The one that was right there, in the corner. Somebody took it.”
Sylvia shook her head. “You have a very active imagination, Victoria. That must be what makes you a successful writer.”
“There was something there. It looked like a tape recorder. Didn’t anybody else see it?”
No—from everyone else in that room.
CHAPTER 10
We didn’t talk while we waited for the police; each of us was alone with our own fears and unspoken questions. All the color had drained from Alice-Ann’s face, and her hands trembled on her lap. Dr. Jones, with some help from Mrs. Seligman, wiped some of the blood off the children’s arms and faces, exposing nasty cuts and scratches.
It was only about ten minutes before Garnet arrived with a younger policeman in tow, but it seemed as if hours had passed. He went directly to the children, knelt in front of them, and spoke to them gently. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
The boy choked back tears and shook his head, but the girl proved to be of stronger stuff and started to talk. “We was playing at the Martin farm and didn’t notice it was getting dark. So we was riding our bikes home on the highway when a big eighteen-wheeler came by doing about a hundred miles an hour. He made so much wind I went straight into those thorn bushes on the side of the road. My clothes got all caught in the thorns and I was bleeding. And when Tyler tried to get me loose, he got all cut up, too.
“We’d just about got my bike pulled out when we saw something shiny under some bushes. I thought maybe it was part of my bike got broken off, you know, but we pulled the branches apart and saw a big motorcycle. There was a man on the ground next to it. He was dead.”
Alice-Ann uttered a strangled cry and buried her face in her hands. I stood behind her and put my hands on her shaking shoulders to comfort her. From where I stood, I could see Twanya Tweedy sobbing quietly into a pink tissue.
Garnet continued questioning the child. “How did you know the man was dead?”
“Because I did what you’re supposed to. Like on the TV. I crawled through the bushes and took his pulse. There wasn’t any, you know, and his head …his head was all bashed in.” The little girl started to cry.
I really admired the gutsy little kid. Not many people, kids or adults, would have done what she did.
Garnet spoke to LaVonna. “Please call the Eby farm and tell them that Tyler and Tiffany are safe. They’re probably getting concerned about them being out so late.”
He asked Dr. Jones, “Do you think they need medical attention?”
Jones nodded. “Most definitely. Those firethorns can cause blood poisoning faster than a bee finds pollen. I’ll take them down to the clinic, give them tetanus shots and antibiotics, then come right back.”
“LaVonna,” Garnet said, “tell the Ebys to pick the children up at the clinic. Kids, I’m sorry, but Til have to ask you to do one more thing. I need you to go with me in the squad car and show me exactly where the body is.”
“We can walk. It’s not far,” Tiffany told him.
Garnet explained gently that there was police equipment in the car that he might need to use.
I was surprised when he asked me to ride along. “I think it would be better for them if they had a woman along,” he explained.
Mrs. Seligman uttered an irritated “humph.”
“I don’t know about leaving Alice-Ann,” I protested.
Praxythea sat down beside her. “She’ll be all right. I’ll stay with her until you get back.”
Garnet appeared to notice Praxythea for the first time and was staring at her with obvious pleasure. “I didn’t know you were in town, Praxythea. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Garnet. Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you again.”
“I just might take you up on that.”
I was afraid I’d have to wipe the drool off his chin, so I broke the spell by grabbing both children by the hands and leading them toward the door. Garnet followed, reluctantly I thought, trailed by his young assistant and the doctor.
Once we were in the police car, I was introduced to the sergeant, whose name, believe it or not, was Luscious Miller. Not Lucius. Luscious. Only in his twenties, he already had a receding hairline; a greasy strand of blond hair combed from one ear to the other only emphasized it. He was so tall that his knees touched his chin as he sat in the backseat of the car next to Tyler, and I doubted that he weighed as much as I did.
“Stop,” Tiffany yelled after a few minutes. “Right there.” She pointed across Garnet’s chest into the bushes on our left. “He’s in there. Not too far from the driveway.”
Garnet braked, and we all climbed out. Dr. Jones, who had followed in his Mercedes, took the children away immediately.
Garnet opened the trunk of his cruiser, handed a flashlight to me and a machete to Luscious, and then carefully examined the driveway. There was still enough light so we could easily see the motorcycle tracks that headed directly into the thorny hedge. Garnet got a camera out of the trunk and took a series of flash pictures of the tracks.
It turned out that Luscious didn’t need his machete after all. Where the motorcycle tracks disappeared into the hedge, the branches simply fell away when he touched them. Almost as though the opening in the bushes had been deliberately filled in with broken branches after the motorcycle went through.
“Wait here,” Garnet ordered, taking the flashlight from me. He and Luscious cautiously entered the firethorn hedge.
“Do you see anything?” I called out.
“I’m afraid so,” Garnet answered.
“Who …?” But I knew. Time passed slowly while I waited. Ten minutes? Twenty? Thirty? A car
pulled up beside me and Dr. Jones got out. I was glad to see his professionally solemn face.
“How are the children?” I asked.
“They’ll be okay. My nurse is cleaning them up and their parents are already there.”
“Poor kids. It must have been a terrible shock for them.”
“I’m sure it was, but they’ll get over it quickly. City folk don
’t realize how much danger and death there is on a farm. The kids learn early to accept it as part of living. Where’s Garnet?”
“In there.” I pointed at the gap in the hedge.
“I’ll just get my bag,” Dr. Jones said, opening the trunk of his car. He pulled out a large brown suitcase.
“Why do you need that if the man’s dead?” I asked.
“Besides being Lickin Creek’s only full-time doctor, I’m also the Caven County coroner.” He flicked the switch on his flashlight. “Damn battery’s dead. Would you lead the way, please?”
“Garnet,” I shouted into the bushes. “The doctor and I are coming through. Could you please shine some light for us?”
A small circle of light showed through the blackness.
I pushed my way through, getting a few small scratches. It was pretty damn apparent why Meredith Jones had asked me to lead the way. When we reached a small clearing, I recognized Richard’s motorcycle immediately. It didn’t even have a dent on its shiny body. Richard was less fortunate. He lay sprawled in the knee-high grass, the right side of his face looking like a squashed tomato. It was covered with flies. His left eye stared at eternal blackness. On his chest lay a long-stemmed American-beauty rose. Garnet’s camera flashed several times.
I turned away, hand over my mouth, and took several deep breaths—don’t let me cry, don’t let me cry. But I did. Tears for a man I didn’t even like. Tears for the rotten finality of death.
Garnet handed me a clean, white cotton handkerchief. “Are you going to be all right?” he asked, gently touching my shoulder.
I nodded.
Luscious reached into his hip pocket and produced a flask of brandy. Noticing Garnet’s disapproving stare, he said, “Purely medicinal, boss. You never know when you might need to revive someone.”
I took a deep swallow. It burned all the way down, and I felt better almost at once. Luscious took a quick sip from it himself before shoving it back in his pocket.
Garnet was down on his hands and knees, crawling around the body. Then he took more pictures. He nodded to the doctor, who rolled Richard over. When I saw him take a thermometer out of his bag, I turned my back. This was not something I wanted to watch.
I turned around when I heard them stand up. Thankfully they had covered Richard with a plastic tarp. Garnet brushed the dirt off his trousers and absentmindedly reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. When he saw it hanging damply from my fingers, he wiped his hands on his shirt.
“One thing is obvious,” the doctor said. “He didn’t die here.”
“You mean it wasn’t an accident?” I was totally confused.
“No way. There’s no blood here.”
Garnet added, “There’s not a mark on the motorcycle, either, and there’s nothing around here that could have caused that kind of head injury. Even if he’d been thrown off his bike, he’d have had to hit a rock or a tree to get smashed up that badly. My guess is he died somewhere else, and someone brought him here on the motorcycle and hid him here in the bushes.”
“But if that’s what happened, wouldn’t that mean he was murdered?” I asked.
Dr. Jones nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m putting in my report. I estimate he was killed by one or more right lateral blows to the head sometime around midnight. I’ll know better after the lab work is done.”
I remembered something. “He was wearing a helmet when he left home. Where is it?”
“How do you know that?” Garnet asked.
I explained about the fight, and how I had watched Richard leave the house, strap his suitcase on the back of his cycle, and roar down the driveway.
“What time was that?”
“Around eleven, give or take ten or fifteen minutes. My watch—”
“Do you know where he was going?”
“No. I just saw him go down the hill. I did wake up once, later on. I heard a cycle and thought it was Richard coming home. I don’t know what time it was.”
“Could you tell what direction the motorcycle was coming from?”
“I don’t know. It sounded close. That’s why I assumed it was Richard. Hey! His suitcase—it’s not here either.”
To make sure, we searched the area again. I described it as best I could. It had looked just like a big, black, old-fashioned suitcase, probably leather.
“So, wherever he went, he left his suitcase there,” Garnet commented. “That could be a big help, Tori.”
Behind us, a volunteer fire-department ambulance crew entered the clearing, carrying a stretcher. A few minutes later, Richard MacKinstrie was in a body bag being carted off to the local morgue. So much for a man’s dreams!
Garnet held up the rose. “Looks like death paid the Rose Rent this year,” he said as he dropped it into an evidence bag.
“How did it get here?” I asked, realizing as I did just how stupid I sounded.
“When we find that out, we’ll know who killed him.”
“Ouch—watch it—stop shoving—damn thorns …” The group from the castle was pushing through the bushes to find out what had happened.
Garnet yelled at them to stay away, but no one paid the slightest bit of attention to him.
“Luscious, didn’t you cordon off the area?”
“Sorry!”
“Damn it, man, do something. Keep them out of here,” Garnet ordered.
“Yes, sir, chief,” Luscious said. “I’ll take care of them.”
In a few seconds the clearing was full of people, and poor Luscious was trying to ignore Garnet’s furious glare. Except for Praxythea, Sylvia, and Alice-Ann, everyone from the castle was there.
They all started asking questions at once. “Was it Mr. MacKinstrie?” LaVonna asked.
“ ‘Fraid so,” Garnet replied. He spoke to the whole group. “You might as well hear it from me instead of through the grapevine: we’ve found Richard MacKinstrie. He’s dead, from a severe head wound. I have good reason to believe he was murdered.”
Was it a trick of the light from the flashlight she carried, or did I really see a tiny smile appear on LaVonna’s lips?
“Hey, people,” Garnet yelled. “Watch where you’re stepping. There’s not going to be a damn clue left by the time you’uns finish tramping around.”
“Ouch! Oooh! Damn!” bellowed Sylvia Thorne. “My hand just got cut to shreds by these damn thorns.” She entered the clearing and held her hands out like a small child for the doctor to examine.
“Nasty scratches,” he commented. “You’d better go to the clinic for treatment. Hopefully you won’t get an infection. Anybody else get scratched?”
Rose and LaVonna both nodded, looking a little embarrassed. One by one, everyone but Michael and me stepped forward and displayed their wounds.
Garnet threw his hands up in the air. “Of all the dumb things—okay, everyone with scratches, go on down to the clinic. Judge, Hy—can you drive them?”
It was quickly settled who would ride with whom.
I did have a few scratches myself, but I didn’t want to admit it. I figured a good scrubbing with soap and water and some peroxide would take care of them.
“What about Alice-Ann?” I asked. “Did anybody think she might need some medical attention? Some sleeping pills or something.”
Meredith Jones looked irritated. “I’ve already thought of that. I’ll stop by the castle and drive her home. I can give her a shot that’ll put her to sleep for eight hours or so. And I’ll leave some tranquilizers for you to give her tomorrow if she needs them.”
Garnet said, “You can’t put her to sleep until I’ve talked to her. I’ve got to ask her some questions about what happened last night.”
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow, Garnet,” Jones said. “She’s just lost her husband. Show a little compassion, please.”
Garnet’s jawline turned white with anger, but he said nothing more to Meredith, choosing instead to yell at the others to get out of the clearing. “Maybe, miraculously, there’ll be a
clue you clowns haven’t destroyed. I’ll need to talk to each of you tomorrow, so don’t go anywhere.”
It was quite dark by then, and Michael asked if I wanted him to walk me back to Alice-Ann’s. “That is, if you’re not afraid I’m the murderer.”
“I would feel better having someone walk me
home. Besides, what possible motive could you have for murdering Richard?”
“A pretty good one, actually. About a year ago, he persuaded my mother to back him financially in a “double-your-money-quick” Mexican oil-discovery company. Mother mortgaged the castle to give him the money. The whole thing turned out to be a scam. The money disappeared, and now the castle and property are scheduled to be sold at auction by the Old Lickin Creek National Bank.”
“Oh, Michael, that’s awful! It’s a crime to think of your beautiful home going out of the family!”
“I’d say that by this time next year, you’ll be able to buy your very own split-level, two-thousand-square-foot castle, right here in Silverthorne Meadows. So, you see, if someone hadn’t already done it, I might have bashed his head in myself.”
At the cottage, he waited until I’d opened the door and turned on the lights. That’s when I noticed the scratches: “Your hands …You’ve got some nasty scratches there.”
“I know. I wasn’t about to line up with the other idiots. I’ll put some stuff on them when I get home. You’d better take care of yours, too.
“Damn shame about Richard,” he added. “Sad part is I don’t think many people will miss him. I’ll wager that Rose Rent Day won’t even be canceled. I’d better get home—busy day tomorrow. We’re going to be building some special scenery to use at the Mystery Dinner.”
“I’ll be over in the morning myself. LaVonna wanted to talk to me about something.”
“Good. Look for me. I’d like you to meet my wife. See you tomorrow,” he said, and disappeared into the dark purple shadows of the night.
Before I had time to close the door, Dr. Jones’s Mercedes pulled up, and we concentrated on getting a wobbly Alice-Ann up the stairs to her bedroom. I helped her undress, put her nightgown on her, and watched Meredith give her an injection. We both sat with her until she fell asleep. He certainly seemed more solicitous about her than was necessary. I wondered if the good doctor was planning to make a move on the Widow MacKinstrie.
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