There was laughter then and the sound of metal striking something not metal. Rachel slowed her steps and let her eyes sweep over the grounds as she went, trying to conceal herself behind trees and headstones whenever possible.
She came to a stop when finally she spotted the owners of the laughter and curse words. From behind a wide tree she could see them, four men and two trucks. One truck was dark and one was light, though she couldn’t tell what color they might be. The darkness was too pervasive to allow that. The men were mixed: two white, one black, one of Hispanic descent. The two trucks had been parked back bumper to back bumper, so she couldn’t read the license plates, if indeed they had plates.
She listened for a while, to the random and chaotic ramblings of the four men. She couldn’t hear everything they said, just a word here and there. She also couldn’t see behind the two trucks, couldn’t tell what they were doing or why.
She had already silenced her cell phone, but she pulled it out of her pocket now and turned on the video camera. The odds that she could catch even a blurry image of any of those men were slim. It was too dark and the most she could hope for was a few scant shadow-men. What she really wanted was to record what they were saying so she could play with it later. She turned on the video camera and let it record, playing with the zoom just in case she could come up with a workable image.
A quick breeze rustled the leaves above and ran an icy breath down the back of her shirt and over her spine. She shook it off and hunkered down, moving slowly and carefully forward. She wanted their faces in her camera.
She advanced to the next tree and then the next but she dared go no farther. If she was caught, she might never see the outside of the cemetery again.
“…tap a kidney, man,” were the first words she heard clearly and a quick glance up from the camera told her that she had heard them only because one of the men was headed straight for her.
She stopped the camera and ran…on her toes, just the way Rick had taught her. She was fast and quiet, though not completely silent.
“…the hell?” was the last thing she heard as she bolted through the graveyard, dodging trees and hurdling over headstones.
She didn’t stop even when she hit the place in the wall where she had come over. In her panic, she had failed to realize that she couldn’t rely on the tree to get her over the wall from inside the cemetery. Clearly, she would have to find another way.
Against the swell of fear in her chest, she held her breath and listened for the sound of pursuing footsteps. Hearing none, she calmed a bit, tried to force logic into her head in place of panic.
If there was a tree of the right proportions on the outside of the wall, it followed that there might well be one on the inside. She followed the wall to the front gates and then followed that section of wall to the next. Finding no tree, she went back to the gate and tested the chains to see if they would open at least wide enough that she might pass through.
They did not.
Her heart skipped a beat and she bit into her thumbnail, studying the problem. What she needed was a leg up. She needed something to step on. Hurriedly, she let her gaze travel around the graveyard, looking for a mausoleum, crypt, or tall headstone close enough to the fence to do her some good. Finding none, she chose the closest one she could find and ran at it.
No toes this time, her feet pounded the ground as she ran as fast as she could toward that tall headstone. Her timing had to be perfect or she would crash into it – or the wall – and probably break an ankle at the very least.
The headstone loomed, four feet off the ground and broader than the others. She leaped at the last second, landing a foot on the headstone and using her momentum to carry her into the air. She reached out desperately for the wall, wanting to grab onto it no matter how or where her body struck it.
As luck would have it, she arced toward the wall, reaching the apex about two feet shy of the wall. Her desperate scrabbling couldn’t put her fingertips on the top bricks, however, and she lost control, spinning her body at the last second so that her shoulder struck the wall with an echoing crunch. After that, she sort of slid down the wall until she hit the ground.
She sat there, rocking a bit and holding her shoulder. She bit back the cry that wanted so badly to break free and clamped her eyes shut. The resulting bruise would no doubt be impressive. She would need a good cover story for Rick when he saw it.
What she needed most right then was a way to get out of that cemetery. She just didn’t have the guts or the strength to try that leap again and she sure wasn’t going to make it through the narrow gap between the gates. Unless she wanted to call Macy and have her come down with a pair of bolt cutters and a whole lot of humiliation, there was only one thing to do.
Rachel watched from behind a headstone as the temporary caretaker unlocked the front gates. The sun had come almost an hour before and already the chill was leaving the air. Her clothes were damp from the humidity and dew and her shoulder hurt bad enough to make her wonder if it was dislocated.
Once he had unlocked the gates, the caretaker moved deeper into the cemetery, moving at a leisurely pace, his feet scuffing up leaves and slapping on the wet ground. Rachel changed her position so that the headstone would be between them as he moved, eyes ever watchful.
When finally the man had gone far enough that he wouldn’t see or hear her, she stepped out from behind the headstone and made for the gate. Thirty feet and she would be out, on her way to sweet freedom and hopefully a hot bath.
She had made good time getting home. Several hours spent in a cold, dark cemetery had made her grateful for quite a few things, not the least of which was indoor plumbing.
Once inside, she threw the lock on the front door and tossed her keys on the table next to it. From there, it was twenty feet to the sanctuary of her bathroom and she crossed that distance as fast as possible.
With a sigh of relief, she finished her ablutions and began peeling her clothes off and tossing them toward the laundry hamper. She missed with several pieces and didn’t even care, as she stood before the large mirror, turning this way and that so she could see the purple blossom on her shoulder.
She had landed against that wall with quite a bit of force but the size and depth of the mark left by that impact astounded her. Already, it had turned black over the bone and was spreading purple and yellow across part of her back and down her chest. Just to be on the safe side, she raised her arm to the side, then up to her head. She tested it again by raising it to the front and then the back. All seemed to be in order but then she was no doctor. She knew only that she would not be able to raise her arm or rotate it if she had broken or dislocated it.
Satisfied, she reached into the tub and put the stopper in, then turned on the hot water full force. For good measure, she dumped in some Epsom salts, hoping it might take some of the color out of the bruise and perhaps a bit of tomorrow’s discomfort away as well.
She had no plans aside from sinking into that delicious water and letting it soak her problems away. Then she would slide into her bed and try for some sleep, though she imagined that she would not have an easy time of that. Her head was spinning and she was keyed up, so much so that she let her mind wander over every possible outcome of her current discovery.
Halfway through the bath, she realized that she couldn’t safely predict which outcome would be the true one. She needed help on this one, more help than Rick could even offer. There was nothing to do but visit Sheriff Dooley and come clean about the whole thing. He had parts of the puzzle that she did not and now, thanks to her ill-spent night, she had pieces that he did not. They would have to share.
That decided, she stood up at once and wrapped a towel around herself. Rubbing gently to dry herself, she pulled the stopper with the toes of her right foot and then stepped onto the shaggy bath mat. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were puffy. Her only hope was to wear something presentable and hope for the best.
She hurried to the closet and
dragged out a pair of jeans and a nice cashmere sweater, slipping both on with some degree of trouble. A brush was run through her hair and a spot of perfume applied, then she was on the hunt for her purse and shoes. The barefoot running shoes she had worn last night were still damp to the touch and so she put on some regular sneakers; mom shoes, she called them. White with slightly dirtied toes and bought for three bucks down at the superstore, they were serviceable and almost comfortable.
Then she was out the door, on a mission, focused. She would have to find a way to share her information – and, yes, her video – with the sheriff without admitting that she had broken into the cemetery. It would be a neat trick if she could pull it off.
The drive was quick. It was still early and even the working crowd had just begun to leave for work. By the time she wheeled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s station, she had just about figured out what she wanted to say.
Her feet pounded the pavement as she marched on the door, barely registering as the electric eye door opened whisper-quiet in order to let her pass. The desk was to her left and she wheeled toward it on one heel, smiling as she looked across the desk at the sergeant in charge.
“I need to speak to Sheriff Dooley,” she said smartly. “I have some information he might need on Horace’s murder.
“Your name?”
Irritated for a moment that he didn’t recognize her, then realizing that not everyone in town ate out, she answered, “Rachel Armstrong.”
The man picked up the phone and turned his back on her, as if that act alone would keep her from hearing what he was about to say. With a shake of her head, Rachel leaned on the counter and waited, listening as the sergeant explained the situation to the sheriff.
Then the door opposite her flew open, braced by the ham-hock hand of Sheriff Dooley himself. “Rachel! Why don’t you come on back?”
She smiled and started for the door, turning at the last second to grace the sergeant with her smile. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant.” Then she was through the door and trailing Dooley down the hall, he of the long legs and even longer stride.
He ushered her into his office and shut the door, then took up his appointed position behind the desk. He began rocking in his squeaky chair, fingers laced behind his head, his face dour and drooping. “Now, why don’t you tell me what it is you know, Miss…Rachel.”
“Well, I was very upset to hear of Horace’s murder and I figured there must be something going on out at that cemetery. I mean, Horace wasn’t murdered over nothing, you know. He must have seen something or known something…. So, I decided to go out and have a little look around. You know, just sort of watch the place for a while and see what turned up.”
“And you didn’t think I would have the place under surveillance?” His tone hadn’t changed but his eyes narrowed slightly and his jaw was set.
For a moment, Rachel thought the jig was up. Maybe his officers had been watching the place and maybe they saw her go over the wall and maybe he was just waiting for her to admit it so he could laugh at her. “Did you?” she asked, her own eyes narrowing, the corners of her mouth hinting at a grin.
“No.” Dooley sat forward and leaned his elbows on the desk, studying his fingers as he toyed with a pen. “So, you were out at the cemetery and…what did you see?”
“I was at the old section, back by that big mausoleum. There were two pickup trucks parked back there, but they were parked back bumper to back bumper, so I couldn’t make the licenses.”
“I see. And to be clear, these trucks were what color?”
“It was too dark to tell for sure, but one of them was light and one was dark. And there were four men milling around. They were kind of loud, so I would have to think that anybody passing by would hear them and stop to see what was what.”
“Uh huh.” He squinted at her once again.
“There was equipment and tools in one truck and a big pile of dirt in the other. I couldn’t see beyond the trucks to see what was going on, but I took a video just in case I could enhance it and find something that way.”
“And did you enhance it?”
“Not yet. But I will. And I will share anything I find with you. I want you to know that I do not want to keep anything from you. I’m here in the full spirit of cooperation.”
“You’ve been listening to your husband for a lot of years, hm?” He nearly smiled at that.
“Yes, he’s taught me a lot.”
“So, can I see this video at least?”
“Sure.” She stood up abruptly and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. It had a five-inch screen and full stereo speakers, so she supposed that it would give him about the best that that particular video had to offer. “It’s right here on my phone and I’ll be happy to email it to you as soon as you’ve looked at it.”
“I’d be much obliged, ma’am.” She knew the hick tone he took was no more than an affectation. He liked it when people underestimated him and Rachel couldn’t exactly blame him. Heck, she used the same tactic herself quite a bit.
“Here.” She started the video and thrust the phone out in front of his face. She watched his face as he took it in one beefy hand and squinted at the screen. She returned to her chair, continuing to watch him for signs of faulty deception. He seemed not to recognize anything in the video, nor make out a single word.
“Well, that wasn’t very helpful, was it?” he asked as he handed back the phone. “But to be clear, exactly how did you get into the cemetery at that hour? It would have been locked.”
Rachel’s face fell and the single thread that would unravel her entire deception was picked at. “What do you mean, Sheriff?”
“What I mean is, that video was shot from a vantage point somewhere in the woods, in front of the mausoleum and facing the fence. Therefore, you were inside the cemetery, at a time when the gates would be locked. So, I ask…quite logically…how you got inside.”
Rachel swallowed and felt the color flood her face. “All right. You got me. I climbed a tree and dropped down to the wall and then to the ground. But I didn’t touch a thing, never disturbed anything.”
“Breaking and entering.” He made that tsk sound with his tongue and grinned. “And a cemetery at that!” He allowed himself the luxury of a laugh then. The expression on her face silenced him and he took up his normal, dour countenance once more. “Don’t worry, Rachel. I’m not gonna arrest you or anything. But think for a moment what might have happened if those guys had seen you…you being all alone inside those walls and all.”
She nodded solemnly. “Exactly what Rick will say to me when he finds out. And you’re right. I didn’t think things through.”
“Why can’t you just stick to running your restaurant and leave the policing to me and my boys? You’re a wonderful waitress but you’re a lousy investigator. And one day, you mark my words, you’re gonna get hurt.”
Rachel felt her face grow hot, her hands clench into fists. She set her jaw hard and glared at him. “I’m going to enhance that video, Sheriff, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m going to bring you back something that solves this whole case. You can make book on it.”
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, fought the threat of a smile. “Okay, Rachel. Well, now, it would be real nice if you did just that. But in the meantime, I want you to promise me you won’t go sticking your nose into this case anymore.”
Her shoulders slumped and her head drooped. “I promise I will not go sticking my nose into this case anymore. Satisfied?” Besides, she could always investigate the bank robbery and hope that the two were connected.
“Good enough. Now, shoot me that email and run on back to your computer. I’m kinda anxious to see what you can do with it.”
She stood up, her shoulders squaring and her jaw relaxing. “I’ll do just that, Sheriff. Give me until morning to get it all cleaned up and enhanced. Then I’ll send you the new version.”
“And thanks for coming by, Rachel.” Dooley stood and offered his h
and. “I know you didn’t have to.”
“It was my pleasure, Sheriff.”
As she left the office, she was struck by the completely arbitrary notion that she would be the main topic of conversation among the officers for quite some time to come. She could see them all, sitting around mugs of coffee and a box of donuts, laughing over the silly woman and her surveillance attempts.
As she whooshed out the door on a gust of air, she realized that the only way to quell their laughing was to find something in that video that would point her (and the police) in the direction of the midnight marauders. She was already too wound up, despite not having slept in over twenty-four hours, and she knew that she wouldn’t sleep much that night either. It got like that sometimes, when the details swirled around in her head with no answer in sight. It aggravated Rick to no end.
She decided that she needed to clear her head, distract herself with something completely vacuous for a while. To that end, she turned left toward the small mall which inhabited the outskirts of town. It was a fairly recent installment in their economy and she had only been there twice: once for Christmas shopping and once when it first opened. Perhaps if she wandered through its moneyed halls, she could set her mind straight for once.
She turned left onto Lincoln, her eye caught by the white two-door which turned out of the parking space across from the Sheriff’s Department and fell in behind her. It stayed a good four car-lengths behind her, so perhaps she was merely being paranoid. Still, better safe than sorry.
She made a sudden turn onto Third Street, where all the really old houses were. What was it Rick said? If a car stays with you for three turns in a row, you can be pretty sure you’re being followed. Yes, that was it.
As she came to the light, she slowed, watching to see if the car came close enough that she could see the occupant. Indeed, the driver applied his brakes and since the light was green, Rachel was forced to drive through the intersection. He never came closer than four car lengths.
Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) Page 8