“Wh-What?” Darrell asked.
“Who was making deliveries two weeks ago?”
“Faith Fleur.”
I almost bit my tongue off. “We really need to speak with her.”
“Me too. She hasn’t been here in two weeks.”
“Can you describe her?”
“She’s about five foot, five. Blond hair and green eyes.”
“That sounds like someone we’re looking for. Do you happen to have her address or phone number?”
“Don’t bother trying to call her; it goes straight to voicemail.”
We left after Darrell handed us an address and phone number scrawled on a piece of paper.
“Faith must be renting a room on Newman Street,” I said after glancing at the address.
I knocked on the door and a cheerful woman answered the door.
“Hello there,” I said.
She cocked a brow. “I already have a church I attend.”
I laughed. “We’re investigators and we’re looking for a young woman named Faith Fleur.”
“We were told she rents a room here,” Eleanor added.
“I’m looking for her too. She stiffed me a month’s rent and I can’t even toss her stuff out unless I go through the courts.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Eleanor asked.
“About two weeks ago. She promised she’d pay me that Friday, but she never showed up.”
“She left her belongings behind?” I asked.
“They’re still in her room.”
“Can we look at them?” Eleanor asked.
I grabbed Eleanor’s arm and whispered, “We can’t.”
“It’s really important,” Eleanor said. “We believe she’s involved in a crime and there might be stolen merchandise in her room.”
“Who did you say you were again?”
“We’re investigators,” I said.
“We work closely with Sheriff Peterson,” Eleanor quickly added.
The woman frowned, her fingers grasping the yellow floral dress she wore.
“I suppose it won’t hurt. I probably won’t see her again anyway.”
She directed us up the stairs and to the first room on the right. The stale smell blasted me in the face. “We need to open a window.”
Eleanor shrugged as she opened the closet and looked through the clothing. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything that might tie her to Wilber’s house,” I said as I opened drawers and riffled through them.
Boxes tumbled to the floor from the top of the closet. I shook my head at Eleanor and helped her pick them up. I glanced inside the boxes, but they only contained winter clothing. “Faith must have planned to stay longer.”
I helped Eleanor replace the boxes and then checked the bedside table before collapsing on the bed. “So much for finding anything of use.”
Eleanor plopped on the bed next to me and yelled, “Ouch!” She pulled up the blankets and pulled out an address book and handed it to me.
I flipped through the book, which contained addresses and gas and food receipts until I ran across Wilber’s address circled in red. “This proves Faith was at Wilber’s house.”
“I can’t believe I found anything useful. See, sitting on a bed works sometimes. I’m a little tired,” Eleanor admitted.
“I think we should call Sheriff Peterson. He needs to see this.”
“Why don’t we just go to the sheriff’s department?”
“Because we can’t remove this address book and I’m afraid to hide it here now that I know what it means.”
“And our paws are all over the book.”
“I know, but this is worth having Peterson yell at us.”
“What is this supposed to be?” Peterson asked.
“It’s an address book, what does it look like?” Eleanor smirked.
Peterson’s face reddened. “Agnes, what is this?”
“It’s Faith Fleur’s address book.”
“Who?”
“Faith Fleur.”
“We found out Faith delivered groceries for Neiman’s in a black SUV that belongs to the market,” Eleanor added. “A vehicle matching that description was seen at Wilber’s house a few days a week.”
Peterson frowned. “Are we getting to a point soon?”
I stepped closer to Peterson. “The manager at Neiman’s told us Faith hasn’t been seen for a few weeks. Faith Fleur was the person murdered at Wilber’s house.”
“And this is her address book?” Eleanor shook the book. “Wilber’s name is the book … his address circled in red.”
“Where did you find the book?”
“Here. Faith was renting this room and her landlady told us we could come up here and take a look. She’s a little upset that Faith stiffed her on the rent.”
“She hasn’t been here for two weeks,” Eleanor added.
Peterson shook his head. “Where did you find the book?”
“Under the covers.”
“Why are you bringing this to my attention when you took it upon yourselves to go through the address book? You both know better than to handle potential evidence.”
“At the time I wasn’t sure it was evidence.”
“We haven’t found another body at Wilber’s,” Peterson said.
“Not yet you haven’t. I suggest searching his property,” I offered.
“We did. There isn’t a blood trail to follow. It ends in the living room.”
“Someone must have bagged the body and removed it,” Eleanor said. “I wonder why they didn’t remove Wilber’s body.”
“I have a feeling that we should be looking into Faith’s past,” I said. “Taking another look at Wilber’s property wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’s already been searched and anything found here can’t be used. I don’t have a warrant to search the premises. And if Faith delivered groceries to Wilber she very well could be a suspect, not a victim.”
“You already have DNA you could check against Faith’s toothbrush or hairbrush. You’ll find the items in the bathroom.”
“I’m leaving and you two need to do the same. You can’t go through the woman’s belongings and her landlady can’t give you permission. Until Faith is evicted, her personal items can’t be moved or thrown away.”
“I don’t need any trouble here,” the landlady said. “I just want my money.”
“Put the address book back where you found it,” Peterson said. “I’ll walk you out.”
I lifted the covers to put the address book back. While Peterson looked the other way, I slipped it into Eleanor’s purse.
“The sheriff is right. We’d better leave, Eleanor.”
“I have to use the bathroom first.”
Sheriff Peterson gave me a hard look, as if he knew we were up to something. Eleanor surfaced from the bathroom and I handed her her purse.
We parted ways with Peterson and I started the engine and drove off. “That was a waste,” Eleanor said. “We should have never had Peterson come out there. And now we don’t even have the address book.”
“It’s in your purse.” I smiled.
“And her toothbrush is in my pocket.”
“We are a good team, although I doubt we can get the DNA from Wilber’s house checked against the toothbrush.”
“What if we asked your granddaughter’s husband.”
I frowned and shook my head. “We won’t get anywhere that way. Unless we find Faith’s body.”
“Well, we won’t find it in the address book.”
“No, but we might be able to track her movements with it.”
“And check her past appointments and contacts. We might be able to find where she’s from, so start making calls,”
“I’m driving to Wilber’s house so we can take a look around.”
“It’s still a crime scene.”
“I doubt the crime scene tape is still up, Eleanor.”
“And what will you do if it is?”
; I shrugged. “Help it blow away with wind?”
Eleanor made the calls and sighed in frustration when she exhausted the list. “So much for that. All the names in this book are customers she delivered groceries to.”
“We’ll find something else to go on. We always do.”
I gritted my teeth at the sight of the crime scene tape when I drove into Wilber’s driveway. Eleanor and I tried to wad it up without entangling ourselves in it.
We wandered into the overgrown backyard and searched for a trashcan on the back porch, but of course there wasn’t one there. The cops had most likely taken it.
“Now where are we going to put this?” I asked.
“Maybe there’s a trashcan in the house on the second floor.”
“Peterson boarded the house up tight.”
“We could check in the shed over there,” Eleanor pointed out.
We walked to the shed that had a lean-to. It was locked. “We won’t be able to get in,” I said.
My eyes widened as Eleanor pulled on the door of the shed and tried to pry it open. I shook my head as I looked through the junk under the lean-to. “Can you help me?” I asked as I pulled out pieces of lumber.
“That’s too big of a job for us.”
“It’s only a few boards. And look, there’s a tarp and a roll of plastic.”
Eleanor plugged her nose. “Yuck I’m not touching that smelly tarp!”
“Quit whining. You’ve picked up nastier things and brought them home.” I grinned.
“Not funny, Mrs. Perfect.”
My shoulders slumped. “I’m nowhere near perfect. My comment was out of line, sorry.”
“Who are you and what have you done to my friend Agnes Barton? She doesn’t apologize for her jokes.”
“Don’t you want to know what’s under that tarp?”
“Spiders and creepy crawly bugs don’t interest me.”
“What if a body was wrapped inside it? Peterson mentioned there wasn’t a blood trail, remember?”
“Fine, I’ll help you clear this junk out. But we’ll need to find a way inside the house so I can wash my hands.”
Eleanor and I huffed and puffed and removed boards and a roll of plastic until we were finally able to reach the tarp. Sweat dripped down my face as we worked for the next ten minutes to remove the tarp.
“It’s stuck,” I said.
“It’s too heavy to move by ourselves.”
“It’s probably full of rainwater.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Among other things.”
“I don’t smell anything.”
“What if it’s wrapped in plastic?”
“It would still smell like rotting meat, I think.”
“Then why are we moving the tarp?”
“To see if there is anything behind it,” I said.
“Well, we can’t budge it. We need help.”
“It’s too bad Jimmy was busy today. He’s perfect in a pinch.”
“I’ll call him,” Eleanor said. “The worst he can do say is no.”
There was something behind the tarp that I couldn’t quite see.
“He’s not answering,” Eleanor said as she held the phone against her cheek.
“Never mind. I’ll call Andrew.”
“Do you actually think he’ll come out here and help us?”
“We won’t know unless I call and ask.”
I called Andrew, who promised to be right over.
“I wish there was somewhere we could sit,” Eleanor said.
“How about the back porch?” I suggested.
Eleanor and I sat down on the porch and I wiped the remaining sweat from my brow.
“Wilber has a nice-sized backyard,” Eleanor said. “I wonder if he has a burn barrel.”
“A burn what?”
“You know, a big metal barrel you burn stuff in, branches and sticks that fall on the ground.”
I twitched my nose. “I don’t smell smoke.”
“They probably didn’t burn Faith’s body here,” Eleanor said.
“One of the neighbors would have called the fire department.”
“Not for a burn barrel. Those aren’t big enough to burn a body in.”
“Unless the victim was small.”
“Or in pieces.”
I pressed a hand against my stomach. “Let’s not go there.”
I heard a car pull into the driveway and my heart hammered in my chest until Andrew rounded the corner.
“It’s about time,” I said.
“I’m going against my better judgment, but I’d rather be here in case something happens.”
“What could happen?”
“I don’t want to think about it.”
Eleanor and I led Andrew to the lean-to, and between us three we pulled the tarp free. Andrew pulled up one side and water rushed out, along with spiders and bugs, as Eleanor had mentioned.
“There’s a barrel back there,” I pointed out.
“I’ll roll it out,” Andrew said.
Eleanor and I moved out of the way as Andrew strained to tip it over and roll it toward us. Once it was out of the lean-to, Andrew left us to retrieve tools from his car. He came back with a pry bar.
“We should set the barrel back up. It might be easier to remove the cover that way,” I suggested.
Eleanor and I strained every muscle in our body and groaned as we helped Andrew right the barrel. He pulled and yanked on the tool until the seal of the barrel popped free. We fell to the ground at the stench that flooded the air and pressed our hands and shirts against our nostrils.
“I sure hope that’s not what I think it is,” I said.
Chapter 9
Andrew was the only one brave enough to glance inside the barrel. He escorted us to the back porch and called 911 with the discovery.
“I can’t imagine someone stuffing a body in that barrel,” Andrew said.
“I can’t believe someone didn’t get rid of the body,” I said. “Seems to me that if you murdered someone you’d move the body to a different location.”
“Sheriff Peterson didn’t find the body and he searched the property,” Eleanor said. “For some reason I expected to find a freshly-dug grave.”
“Do you think Wilber might have murdered someone?” I asked.
“Wilber was too nice for that,” Eleanor said.
“So people keep saying, but just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he didn’t murder someone. Look how he treated Bernice when they divorced.”
“But he didn’t murder her.”
“But he took her children.”
“Who killed Wilber? Do you think it was common knowledge he was a murderer and was taken out by a vigilante?” Eleanor asked.
“If it was common knowledge someone would have turned him into the cops,” Andrew said.
“Unless the person he murdered is related to the vigilante,” I said.
“That’s too far-fetched, and I’m sure Peterson will tell you the same,” Andrew huffed.
“The crime happened inside, not outside,” I told him.
“I doubt Peterson will think about it that way.”
We met Peterson out front and he hiked up his pants as he approached.
“Why are you on an active crime scene, ladies?” His eyes then moved to Andrew. “Surprised to see you here, Hart.”
“I am too, but believe me, I didn’t think Agnes and Eleanor would really find anything out here.”
“We called him to help us move a tarp,” I said. “That’s when we spotted the barrel.”
“I can smell that you opened it before I even got here,” Peterson said. “The state police crime lab boys will be here soon.”
“I wonder if the blood on the carpet will match the remains,” I said.
“I’d be shocked if it was the same person. Why put one body in the barrel and hide it here under our noses when Wilber’s body was left out in the open?” Eleanor's lit up and she asked, “What if Wilber was a murderer?”
“Hard to have a victim you just killed kill you,” Peterson countered. He frowned. “It looks like you might be right about one thing: We didn’t search the property as well as we could have.”
“I imagine you’d look for the same thing we thought of -- a recently-dug hole in the yard -- although with the grass this long it would be hard to see.”
Peterson glanced across the unkempt lawn. “We should have the grass cut so we can take a closer look. What is really going on here?”
“Faith might be in the barrel,” I suggested.
“I don’t know if the remains are male or female. Believe me, I didn’t need to take that good of a look inside.” Andrew frowned. “Who is Faith?”
I quickly gave Andrew the rundown and he sighed. “So you believe Faith was the victim?”
“I don’t know, but she hasn’t been seen by anyone for a few weeks.”
“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Peterson said. “It could be anyone in that barrel.”
“Are there any current missing persons reports?”
“None that I’m aware of. The victim might not even have ties to the area.”
“So a missing person from another area?” Andrew asked.
“Or lured to the area,” I added.
Peterson pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped his face. “Someone else must be involved. I hope the body hasn’t been in here too long. It will be harder to identify if there’s been too much decomposition.”
The sound of more cars pulling up stopped the conversation. Trooper Sales led the forensics team to join them. His brow furrowed as Bill locked eyes with me, but he remained silent as Sheriff Peterson led them to the barrel. “Go on home, Agnes. I’ll speak with you later,” Peterson said.
Andrew followed us to our car and we left separately. I wasn’t certain who was more shocked about today’s developments, Andrew or us. He was a corporate attorney and the job didn’t involve finding dead bodies.
I adjusted the rearview mirror. “To be honest, I need to get the body and smell off my mind.”
“Speaking of which, we both stink,” Eleanor said. “We should freshen up before we go anywhere.”
I dropped Eleanor off and went home to take a shower. Andrew wasn’t home yet, which was fine by me. Duchess yawned when I brushed past the couch. She jumped down and padded to her litter box. I hurriedly scooped up the blanket with the kittens on it and placed it on a pet cushion on the floor. Ever since Duchess gave birth I was afraid that the kittens would kill themselves falling off the couch.
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