Bones to Pick

by Linda Lovely

  Dad picked up the thread. “Brie, remember how Paint told us that Kaiser crook disappeared around the same time as Jed? Maybe it’s him.”

  “I can only hope,” Billy said. “That damn con man nearly broke my folks. Stole their life savings. They were lucky to hang on to our farm. Lot of my other kin got suckered, too. I might have been as foolish, listening to his promises, if I’d had an extra sawbuck back then.”

  Eva looked at Billy and nodded. “Maybe those bones do belong to that Kaiser fella, and the killers who shot Jed arranged the same end for him. But if that’s the case, why would they bury the bodies a mile apart? Seems like a lot of extra effort unless they shot ’em where they’re buried. Hard to imagine why Kaiser would have been on Udderly property.”

  Billy frowned as he studied his wool socks. He’d taken off his muddy boots and left them by the door. “Don’t know about what happened years back, but I have a thought or two about who shot Socks. Sure sounded like a diesel engine that fired up and took off.”

  He looked over at Andy and Dad for confirmation. Andy was the first to answer.

  “Hey, I can tell dog breeds by their bark, but truck engines, not a chance.”

  “I’m even more clueless about engine noises than Andy,” Dad added. “I don’t even own a truck.”

  “Does knowing it’s a diesel tell you what kind of vehicle we’re looking at?” Eva asked.

  Billy scratched his chin and looked at the ceiling. “Given the height and shape of those headlights, my best guess is a RAM pickup.” He paused a second. “Hey, you know who drives one of them RAM diesels in his off hours? Deputy West.”

  Stinky Blue Cheese. Might Deputy West also have samples of my little car’s paint on his big fat bumper? I felt certain that snaggle-toothed bologna brain was capable.

  “True, Deputy West drives a RAM, but so do a dozen of the farmers I visit,” Andy said. “Not exactly conclusive.”

  Andy was right, though I wanted it to be West, the pig. Of course, calling him a pig was an affront to my porcine friend Tammy. Unfortunately, it was all idle speculation.

  Dad stood. “Doubt we can solve this mystery tonight. And since my big sister refuses to let the local law know about our trespassers, we might as well get some sleep. Guess morning’s soon enough to ask Iris how we can call in the state troopers without alerting the sheriff.”

  Eva’s shoulders slumped. “Well, we’re agreed on one thing. I’m all for calling it a night.”

  “Want me to stay?” Andy asked. “I have a sleeping bag in the truck. I think Socks will be fine, but it might not be a bad idea to have reinforcements if the idiot or idiots who shot her come back.”

  Eva chuckled as she shook her head. “Hey, this is a one-holer cabin. We’re past capacity now with four occupants vying for dibs on one latrine. Go home. You have your own animals to care for. Thanks again for patching up Socks.”

  I stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

  As soon as we reached the porch, Andy put his arms around me. “Billy and your dad are good guys, and I love your aunt, but I sure wished we’d had a few minutes—better yet a few hours—alone.”

  His soft, warm lips found mine. I hadn’t bothered to put on a coat to walk him out and the cool air raised goosebumps on my arms. I felt his heat as contact with every part—yep, every part—of his body warmed me up. His fingers massaged my back as they edged downward. Who needed ice cream when apple crisp could come with snuggling a la mode?

  Andy’s breathing suggested he was excited about more than our gun-toting intruders. Good thing he wasn’t spending the night. Knowing his lean, warm body waited a few feet away might have defeated any attempt at meditative chastity.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  “I’d better leave before your dad borrows a shotgun and comes looking for me,” he said. “I’ll be by tomorrow. Must be some way I can help. Eva certainly didn’t kill anyone. She won’t even shoot a goat-stealing coyote like Mark. She talks big about putting lead in that bandit’s bony ass, but I’ve watched her. Even if she has a clear shot, she aims at the ground a couple feet away. Just wants to scare him.”

  “Thanks, Andy. Hope you know how much Eva appreciates your help. She thinks the world of you.”

  He grinned. “Now if I can just get her niece to share that opinion.”

  Before I could answer, he climbed in his truck.

  Well, Andy, you’re steadily climbing my opinion ladder. But then so is Paint.

  Son of a Porterhouse. They could both make me hotter than a jalapeno without a teaspoon of water in sight. And I was finding meditation had hormonal limits.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Sunday doesn’t mean a day off.” Eva’s voice broke through my dream. She shook my shoulder again, a tad harder this time. The room was inky black. Were roosters even ruffling their feathers yet?

  “Shoulda warned you I don’t ask part-timers to help on Sunday mornings. Lilly and I figured folks ought to get a chance to take a pew at church if they had a mind to. Them off means you on.”

  I blinked, still half asleep. While I’d often spent weekends with my aunts, they apparently gave guests the same sleep-in reprieve as their part-time help. But I wasn’t a guest anymore.

  “Liverwurst and Limburger. All right, already. I’m getting up.” I yawned and threw back the quilt. “Are Dad and Billy up? Can I make a quick bathroom run or is it occupied?”

  “Seeing how you’re the only one sleeping in, you get a free bathroom pass, even though you’re still taking the names of heavenly cheeses in vain.”

  Sleeping in? What time would my aunt consider early to rise? Four a.m.?

  “Billy’s gone. Helping a friend patch a barn roof. Howard’s in the milking barn. Need you to gather eggs and feed the horses, dogs, and any other critters you find in the barnyard. Once Howard and I finish milking, we’ll divvy up chores and call SLED about those bones. You can work the retail counter when we open at one.” Eva chuckled. “And don’t you go talkin’ cholesterol counts to our customers or using none of your ‘cheeses’ swear words.”

  In the horse barn, I engaged in my usual do-si-do trying to feed Rita, Lilly’s mule. I’d yet to keep her obstinate fat head out of the feed bucket long enough to serve her breakfast like a lady. A chorus of barking dogs broke the morning quiet, followed by the sound of flying gravel. Why were cars fishtailing in our driveway at sunrise?

  I ran out of the barn as a second car door slammed. Sheriff Jones and his buddy Deputy West exited one car, and two more deputies climbed out of vehicle number two. What now?

  Eva and Dad stood side by side. As the deputies approached, Dad put an arm around Eva’s shoulder.

  Sheriff Jones strutted to within three feet of my aunt. A growl formed deep in Socks’ throat as the injured dog stood guard at her mistress’s side.

  Cheeses! Had Jones moved his hand to the butt of his gun? The backup lawmen spread and took a couple steps back. One even crouched in a quick draw stance. All of their squinty eyes focused on Socks.

  I ran toward my aunt to shift their attention my way and skidded to a stop beside Socks. The hair on the back of the dog’s neck formed a stiff warning as her protective growl deepened. Aunt Eva’s fists curled as she fought control.

  “Down girl,” she ordered Socks, her voice calm but stern. I hoped she’d pay heed to her own advice. It didn’t pay to mouth off to a bunch of trigger-happy idiots.

  She glared at Jones. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Eva Hooker, you are under arrest for the murder of Jed Watson,” he answered. “Brought reinforcements in case you want to do this the hard way. I know you got guns and guard dogs. Don’t want to kill no dogs, but I will if they give me cause.”

  “What in hell are you talking about?” Dad sputtered. “You can’t tell me you have enough evidence to arrest Eva.”

  “Oh, but I ca
n.” Jones smirked and held up his index finger. “First, the bullet discovered in Jed’s skull came from the rifle we found hidden in the attic of her barn.”

  He smiled and held up his middle finger, easing down his index finger to leave his middle digit proudly alone. “Second, we have motive. Got three sworn statements that Jed Watson learned Eva planned to file for divorce, and he told her she wouldn’t get a penny when he kicked her to the curb. Ample reason for the Mrs. to opt for a profitable shotgun divorce.”

  “You’re nuts,” Dad snarled.

  Eva put her hand on his arm, then reached down to stroke her dog’s head. “Socks, stay.”

  I shook with anger as my aunt held out her hands to be cuffed.

  “I’ll come peaceful like,” Eva said. “Just keep your voice down and don’t rile Socks or my brother.” She chuckled. “Don’t want either of them to come to harm or get rabies from biting the likes of you.”

  As the sheriff snapped handcuffs on Eva, I crouched to hold Socks’ collar. The last thing my aunt needed was some burger brain putting more lead in her dog. Sheriff Jones extracted a wrinkled slip of paper from his breast pocket and began reading Eva her rights. Who knew he could read?

  Jones marched her toward his car. One of his ham hands smashed the curls atop her head as he shoved her into the car’s backseat.

  Eva called to Dad before the door closed. “Call Iris, she’ll know what to do. Then finish the damn chores and open the retail cabin at one. We’re gonna need all the cash we can get. Bail bonds don’t come cheap.”

  My shell-shocked dad stayed mute until both cars disappeared in a cloud of dust. Socks was the only one talking, her whines plain pitiful.

  “Let’s go inside.” Dad let out an anguished sigh. “Hope to hell Iris knows who to call on a Sunday to arrange bail.”

  My stomach flip-flopped. “Do they even grant bail to someone charged with murder?”

  “Good heavens. Hadn’t even considered the alternative. Surely they will. It’s not like Eva’s been a menace to society the past forty years.”

  I looked at my watch—8:05. While the sheriff had waited for sunup to make his arrest, he hadn’t dillydallied. Thank heavens all the goats were milked. I made a mental list of chores we had to do before we left. Brewing a pot of coffee topped my list. Had the feeling Dad and I needed all the caffeine we could get to keep our wits about us.

  By the time Dad received a legal to-do list from Mom, we had less than an hour to get to Boughton Bail Bonds for our nine-thirty meeting with the owner. Mom had already spoken with Bessie, and the widowed owner of the bail bond business was expecting us. We made one small detour to pick up a deed to my parents’ house. They were pledging it as collateral until Eva could sign the papers for Udderly. Even with that stop, we pulled up in front of the bail bond office five minutes ahead of schedule.

  The drab gray building looked as if some mad dentist had outfitted it with oversized braces. The door and windows bristled with bars and iron checkerboard grills. All that was missing was a guard dog and a rooftop sniper. Understandable given it was a largely cash business in an iffy neighborhood.

  Dad hit the buzzer. We heard a series of ka-chunks as someone threw what had to be an impressive array of bolts. A minute later, a large, imposing black woman flung open the door.

  “You must be Howard and Brie.” She greeted us with a pearly smile and a voice designed to call children from a block away. She seemed to fill the space around her with joy. Despite the reason for our visit, I couldn’t help smiling in return. Even her clothes were joyful. All the way up to her oversized purple hat with a spray of lilies on the brim.

  “Hello,” Dad fumbled.

  “Sorry ’bout your predicament,” Bessie said. “I was on my way to church when Iris called.” She shook her head. “Don’t know what Sheriff Jones is thinkin’. Usually I’m meetin’ folks whose kids have gone stupid drinkin’ and raisin’ cane. If’n I decide to bond ’em out, they get a lecture ’bout not causin’ good folks more heartache. But I know Eva. She is good folk. Always generous when I need help for Haven House. That safe house for abused wives and kids is close to my heart. Eva’s too.”

  “Thanks for meeting us on such short notice,” Dad said.

  “Not a problem for a friend,” Bessie said. “You’re good to post bail for up to a million—though I can’t imagine the court’ll ask that much given the circumstances. Iris said you can write me a check for $10,000, and you said you brought the deed to your house?”

  Dad signed papers and our business with Bessie concluded before ten a.m. The deadline she’d set to be off to church so she wouldn’t miss too much preaching.

  Our next stop—county jail. I’d driven by the facility plenty of times and hardly noticed it. The new plain-Jane institutional building featured no exterior bars, and the surrounding open space was all green lawn, not a single fence topped with barbed wire.

  Once inside, an officer ushered Dad and me into what looked like a television viewing room. Three chairs half circled a TV monitor. Huh? A thousand movies had prepped me to expect Aunt Eva to appear on the other side of a pane of bulletproof glass. We’d pick up a phone on our end. She’d look at us until we pointed and pantomimed for her to pick up the phone on her end. Not happening.

  An officer quickly disabused us of all our preconceived notions. It appeared we’d subscribed to the jail’s very own cable channel. Ardon County had gone high-tech. We’d basically get the same view of my aunt we’d get if we were Skyping with her from some prison in Iran. The officer mashed a button and Eva appeared. When my aunt saw us, she blinked and tried to smile. The effort was fleeting. More sad than reassuring.

  “Are you okay?” Dad asked.

  “Well, except for the orange jumpsuit. I may wear an orange visor on occasion for Clemson, but orange head to foot has never flattered anyone. ’Course I have a bigger, itchier wardrobe complaint. They took all my clothes. Let me repeat ALL my clothes, including undies, and they don’t issue replacements. Can you believe it? I had to buy underwear. From them.”

  She snorted. “Must have some under-the-counter deal with Dollar General or K-mart. But I’m in no position to protest. You need to put about fifty dollars in an account for me. That’ll let me purchase unmentionables, a candy bar or two, and a set of earphones. We can watch as much TV as we like, but only the images are free. Have to buy earphones to listen. Sorta like to hear what the news is sayin’ about me.”

  “My God, this is medieval,” Dad sputtered. “I never dreamed. Of course we’ll set up an account, and we’ll have you out on bail in no time. Already talked with Bessie Boughton. She’s more than happy to provide bail. Said you’re always mighty generous when it comes to Haven House.”

  Eva chuckled. “Might not be quite so generous this year if I’m still in the pokey. When will bail be set?”

  Dad frowned. “Not till morning. Iris is driving home now. Says she’ll handle the bail hearing, but we need to hire a criminal attorney to handle your case after that.”

  The on-screen Eva’s gaze shifted slightly. I could tell she was looking at me. “Niece, you need to hightail it back to Udderly and open the retail shop. Need you to be selling cheese, fudge, and goat soap with more fervor than a televangelist. We need to bring in some cash. If Sheriff Jones and the Watsons succeed in bankrupting Udderly, they’ll win even if I spend only one night in jail.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re heading right back to the farm.”

  My aunt chewed on her lip and ducked her head sideways. A pantomime to let us know anything she said would be heard by unseen ears.

  “You know that big bone Socks wanted to chew last night? I’m afraid it might break and stick in her throat. Better make sure it’s safely put away.”

  Cheeses. Eva’s arrest had pushed everything else out of my mind. Apparently Dad’s, too. We totally forgot about the new bones an
d Eva’s agreement to call SLED.

  “Will do,” I agreed even though I wasn’t sure what she meant by “safely put away.” Did Eva want us to hide the presumed gravesite we’d discovered? Mom was en route. Maybe she’d know what was best. We’d hoped to call in state troopers as soon as we completed our early morning chores, but the sheriff derailed our good intentions. Would failing to report our discovery in a timely manner make us guilty of a crime and eligible to join Eva in jail? If so, I wanted a huge spending account for underwear.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  We’d just made it back to Udderly when Andy and Paint arrived.

  “How’s Eva?” Paint asked.

  “Still feisty, but she’s clearly worried,” I answered.

  Andy frowned. “The sheriff’s off his rocker. Eva’s no killer. As soon as we heard about her arrest, we met and talked over how we might help.”

  “We’ve both cleared the decks as far as our immediate responsibilities go,” Paint added. “If it’s okay with you, we’ll bed down here for the next few days.”

  “We hope there won’t be any more nighttime trespassers,” Andy said. “But just in case, we didn’t want Brie here alone.”

  Mom and Dad seemed to be nodding their approval. Good.

  “Oh, wiener warts.” I gasped, and then laughed when I saw the startled looks on my would-be heroes’ faces. “I can’t get distracted again. At the jail Aunt Eva’s final marching orders were to keep that bone we found last night safe. Paint, did Andy tell you about our nocturnal adventures?”

  “Yep, sorry I missed out on the fun,” Paint said. “What do you suppose Eva meant by ‘safe’—away from the sheriff’s grubby mitts?”

  Mom shook her head. “I’m an officer of the court. Not sure I should be listening to this conversation. I understand that Eva agreed last night to bypass the local law and report the find directly to SLED this morning. But now Howard thinks he should hold off contacting SLED until Eva gets home on bail. I’m uneasy about the delay.”