Emory snapped his fingers. “I just thought of something else. Drones have to be registered with the FAA.”
“That’s right! Virginia, you could see if anyone on our suspect list has a registered drone?”
Emory glanced at his frazzled partner, and grabbed Jeff’s arm. “Perhaps it could wait for her to rest a bit.”
“Thank you, Emory.” Virginia shot Jeff a see-he’s-watching-out-for-me glare.
Jeff huffed. “That’s what I meant. Virginia, you still haven’t told us how you ended up trapped down there.”
“I was about halfway down when the rope snapped, and I must’ve passed out.”
Jeff bit his tongue but not enough to keep from sniping at her carelessness. “You could’ve been killed.”
“I was trying to help him. Look, I sit at a desk all day. You guys are always out in the field, getting your hands dirty. I thought this was one tiny bit of action I could do on my own. Anyway, when I came to, the first thing I saw was that skeleton.”
“Skeleton?” Emory’s ears perked up. “There’s a skeleton down there?”
Virginia nodded, and Jeff corroborated. “I saw it too. Someone must’ve fallen down there years ago.”
“I think I know who.”
Chapter 35
Walking from his car on a chillier-than-expected Saturday morning, Emory gripped a folded twenty dollar bill in his gloved hand. He stopped before reaching the office to check both sides of the street in each direction, but he didn’t see Phineas anywhere, so he pocketed the money and unlocked the door to Mourning Dove Investigations. He placed his satchel on the floor next to a leg of his tiny desk and was about to sit down when he heard noise coming from Jeff’s office.
Emory opened the bookshelf door and found his partner standing within an arc of stacked books.
“Emory? What are you doing here? It’s the weekend.”
“I don’t take a day off when I’m working on a case. What are you doing?”
Jeff heaved a great sigh. “I’m turning all my paintings and books upside down for a while.”
“Why on Earth are you doing that?”
“It gives you a fresh perspective. Helps unblock your mind and open it to more critical and creative thinking.” Jeff nodded toward Emory’s clothes. “You should try it in your closet. Your new clothes can’t possibly still be at the dry cleaners.”
“I haven’t had a chance to pick them up.” Emory waved his palms over the stacks of books. “I’m still not clear on the why here.”
Jeff returned to his work. “Trying to focus on the case. We have too many suspects, and we need to start weeding them down. Get this damn thing solved so we can both move on.”
Emory was in no mood to discuss his potential move to the TBI. He went to the bookshelf beside the one Jeff was working on and started helping him turn the books upside down. “All right then. Let’s talk this out and start narrowing down the list. The way I see it, we have two primary motives for Corey’s murder – money and—”
“Vengeance,” said Jeff, to which Emory nodded. “Under money, we have the grieving, soon-to-be-moderately-rich widow, Becky Melton. She doesn’t have the strength, but she could’ve hired someone with the life insurance money.”
“Hitmen don’t usually take IOUs. It would’ve had to be someone she knows well enough to trust they’d actually get paid.”
“Someone like pseudo-therapist Randy Graham.” Jeff grinned and clenched his fist. “God, I so want it to be him.”
Emory held up a cautious finger. “We have other suspects to go through. The museum curator and her husband also go in the money category. From what Virginia told us, Claire and Monty Beckett will have a sizeable supplement to their annual income now that Corey’s out of the picture. Monty could’ve easily thrown Corey from the building.”
Jeff nodded. “True. Last under money, we have Corey’s replacement at the TVA, Frank Belcher. He couldn’t have done the actual deed, but I don’t think his wife Lettie would’ve had a problem with it, the way she manhandled her husband.”
“Not to mention the mysterious $9,000 deposit.” Emory shook his head. “I still can’t believe what you told me about them.”
Jeff raised his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear I didn’t embellish a thing. I didn’t need to.”
“Okay. So that’s three potentials for the actual act in that category. Now for vengeance, we have everyone who lost their property to the windfarm.”
Jeff said, “But only two would’ve been angry enough to kill – our favorite department store clerk, Peter West, and your little old witch.”
“Well, she couldn’t have thrown him.”
Grinning, Jeff pinched his own nose and moved it side to side. “Maybe with a twitch of her nose. What about her nephew?”
Emory answered, “He’s physically able, but he wasn’t close enough to his aunt to murder for her, and she had no money to pay for it. Still, they are the only family they each have.”
“So we’re done! We have five people with varying degrees of motive who could’ve thrown Corey off the roof the needed distance. Six if you count witchcraft.” Jeff snickered before stoning his face. “Seriously though. Thank you for going through that with me.”
“All right, come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The auction’s today.”
Chapter 36
By the time Emory and Jeff arrived at the outdoor auction in Brume Wood, the auctioneer had already started going over the process for purchasing the properties. Even with the dryness of the information, the slight, elderly man with the big voice delivered the words with the rhythmic rat-a-tat of a rapper. The square speakers propped on the front corners of the makeshift wooden stage magnified his prose, ensuring it crackled through the crisp mountain air.
Each of the thirteen properties that had been taken by the TVA through eminent domain, including seven with homes, would be sold with their original boundaries intact. The auction for all thirteen properties (or lots, as the auctioneer referred to them) would be held at a single location, here at Lot One – which was one the PIs had not visited before. Poster-sized collages with a map and pictures of each lot were displayed on easels, all in a row and in sequential order, near the auctioneer’s stage. All sales would be final and require payment in full before leaving that day, and final deeds would be ready at the Knoxville TVA office on Monday. To avoid any misinterpretation of gestures or vocalizations, bidding would require a raised hand from the bidder. With the rules explained, the auctioneer began the bidding for Lot One.
Plodding through the muddy ground from the car to the center of the action, Jeff and Emory greeted the local sheriff, a fortyish man with a kind face but inquisitive eyes. Walking away, Emory whispered to Jeff, “That must be the sheriff who physically removed Ms. Mary Belle from her property.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t a pretty sight.” Jeff nodded toward a small table near the posters. “There’s Corey Melton’s old boss sitting at that table.”
Clutching his jacket closed at the chest, Emory’s eyes followed Jeff’s to Darren Gleeson. “He’s probably handling the paperwork for the TVA. Who’s that woman he’s talking to?”
“Maybe it’s his wife.”
“No, I saw her at the funeral. This woman’s younger.”
Jeff pointed to the posters on easels. “We should see how the lots are numbered.”
Emory and Jeff snaked through the robust crowd toward the posters so they could see which property corresponded to which lot number. Darren Gleeson came to greet them. “Gentlemen, are you here to bid on some land?”
“Thinking about it.” Jeff winked at Emory.
Darren laughed. “Good. We need the money. Actually, I’m thinking of bidding on one of them myself. Beautiful views up here. Good luck to you.” With a nod, he returned to the table and his female companion.
Jeff pointed to the first collage. “Lot One is a tiny piece of land.”
Emory stepped i
n front of the second one. “Lot Two is the one with the sinkhole.” He continued down the line. “And Ms. Mary Belle’s is Lot Twelve.”
Jeff passed his partner to the last collage, which included a photo of a double-wide trailer. “This must be Peter West’s property. Lot Thirteen. I wonder if his wife is here to bid on it.” He scanned the crowd.
“Do you know what she looks like?”
“I know what their kids look like.”
Emory turned his attention to the hands being raised for Lot One. He took a few steps back so that Jeff stood between him and the crowd, and he pulled out his phone, telling his partner, “Pose.”
Jeff arced his eyebrows. “I’m not going to take my shirt off here.”
“No, I mean just pose for a regular picture, tourist style.” He whispered, “I’m trying to nonchalantly take pictures of the people bidding.”
“Ah.” Jeff crossed his arms and posed for the camera.
After taking one picture of a nearby bidder, Emory spotted someone behind Jeff that made him say, “Oh my god.”
Jeff followed his gaze. “Peter? How did you get out?”
Peter West grinned at the PIs. “They dropped the charges. Said they didn’t have enough evidence.”
Emory shot a knowing glance in Jeff’s direction. “Wayne.”
“Wow. He actually listened to you. We’re happy for you, Peter.”
“Sold!”
Emory jumped when he heard the auctioneer’s announcement. “Crap, who bought it?”
Jeff looked too but didn’t see anyone moving toward the table where Darren was seated. “I don’t know.”
“Now on to Lot Two.” The auctioneer described the property up for sale.
As soon as the bidding started, Peter West raised his hand.
“Mr. West, you’re bidding on Lot Two? I thought Lot Thirteen was yours.”
“Have you seen where I lived? This property has an actual house. I know it’s run down, but I can fix it up.” He raised his hand again following someone’s else bid.
Jeff elbowed him. “Where’s your family?”
“I left them at the motel. I have enough to deal with today.” Peter threw his hand up again. “Who keeps bidding against me?”
Jeff and Emory both turned their attention toward the middle of the crowd, where a hairless arm dropped to the side of a longhaired man wearing a sleeveless, quilted vest. The PIs faced each other. “Randy Graham.”
Emory led Jeff through the crowd to the holistic counselor. “Mr. Graham.”
With a slight jump at the sound of his name, Randy frowned when he saw its caller. “Are you following me now? I’m all out of helpful information.”
“We’re surprised to see you here,” said Jeff.
Randy raised his hand after Peter upped the bid. “When I heard you talking on the phone about the auction, I asked Becky about the property, and I decided to check it out.”
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here. You told me Corey had become paranoid, that he was being watched. Did he mention when it all started?”
Randy thought for a moment before answering. “He had said something about someone threatening him at work, but he wouldn’t elaborate. I pushed him on it, but anything work-related, he treated it like it was confidential – even to me.”
Jeff gave a knowing look to Emory. “That’s okay. I think I know what the threat was.”
“By the way. If you’re here to bid on anything, you might as well leave now.” Randy smirked at them. “I’m going to buy them all.”
Emory asked, “Why?”
“I want to create a holistic retreat, a place where people can come and stay for a week or two and truly get in touch with their inner beings.” He raised his hand again. “I’m going to build cabins, sweat lodges, vegan restaurants—”
Jeff cut him off. “We get the picture. So I guess that noble stance against your parents’ money has taken a back seat to your ambition.”
Randy sneered and raised his hand again. “I have my own money.”
Seeing the confusion on Emory’s face, Jeff clarified. “His parents are loaded. Tobacco money.”
Emory led Jeff out of Randy’s hearing range. “But he said it’s his own money.”
“He’s lying again.”
“Or maybe Becky is giving him some of Corey’s life insurance money as payment for killing him.”
“They are sleeping together.”
“Sold!” declared the auctioneer.
While Randy clenched his fist in victory, Peter could be heard shouting a profanity. Over scattered laughter, the auctioneer continued. “Moving on. Lot Three.”
As Randy raised his hand, Emory said, “Okay, this is bad. If he’s planning on buying everything and has the money to back it up, Ms. Mary Belle will never get her property back.”
“What can we do about it?”
Emory rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
“Well, we have nine lots to figure it out.”
Chapter 37
Emory stood on his toes to look over the heads of the auction attendees. “We need to find Luke.”
Jeff followed Emory as he searched for Ms. Mary Belle’s nephew. “What does he look like?”
“Tall. Blond. About our age…” Emory stopped with the descriptors as soon as he spotted the subject. “There he is.” The PI approached him and shook his hand. “Luke, it’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
Emory nodded toward Jeff. “This is my partner, Jeff Woodard.”
When Jeff faced him for the first time, he couldn’t hide his surprise. “You’re Luke?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“After meeting your aunt, you’re just not what I expected.”
Luke laughed. “She definitely has her own way about her. Thank god, it’s not hereditary.”
Jeff told him, “It’s nice of you to try getting her property back for her.”
Luke shrugged. “That’s assuming she’s well enough to leave the hospital.”
“She’s in the hospital?” Emory asked.
“They called me as I was leaving to come here. Said she had another attack.”
Emory gasped. “Oh no!”
“I’m going to stop by after I’m done here. Hopefully, I’ll have some good news for her.”
Emory frowned at him. “I’m afraid we have more bad news.”
“What is it?”
“Someone’s here to bid on all the properties, and apparently he’s got the money to outbid everyone.”
“Shit!” snarled Luke. “Dude, I only have a little bit more money than the TVA paid her to begin with. Who is it? Do you know him?”
Emory said that he did. “His name is Randy Graham. He owns a holistic center, and he wants to build a retreat area here.”
Luke’s face reddened, and he clenched his fists. “This sucks!”
Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get him out of the running before it gets to her property.”
“How?”
“We don’t know yet, but we’ll figure something out.” Jeff grabbed Emory’s arm to lead him away, telling Luke, “As a matter of fact, I just came up with an idea. Hang in there. We’ll be back.”
Emory waited until they were out of Luke’s earshot before inquiring about his plan. “What’s your idea?”
“I don’t know. I just said that to make him feel better.”
“That’s just going to make matters worse when he finds out we have nothing.”
“Maybe we can get Randy disqualified.”
“It’s not a pageant. As long as he has the money, he can bid.”
“Let’s verify that.” Jeff led his partner through the crowd until they reached the TVA’s director of generation resources.
“Sold!” the auctioneer once again declared.
Darren had lost his companion and was now focused on the auction. Jeff caught his attention, saying, “There’s someone here intent on buying all the properties.”
/> “So I’ve noticed,” grumbled Darren through grim lips.
“Well, is there a limit to how many one person can purchase?”
“No. If he can afford it, he can buy as many as he wants.”
Emory followed Jeff’s lead. “Aren’t you taking a big chance letting one person scoop them all up? How can you know that he actually has the finances to afford it?”
Darren shook his head. “If he doesn’t have the money, he’s still liable for the cost. One way or another, we’ll get paid.”
Jeff stepped away with his partner. “We have to think of something else.”
Emory sighed. “I have an idea, but Wayne might throw me in jail if I do it.”
“What is it?”
“I could finger Randy as the killer.”
“Oh, that’s evil. Let’s do it!”
“It would just be temporary. After the auction, I’ll tell him I was mistaken, and he’ll let him go.”
“Sold!”
Jeff glanced at the auctioneer. “We have to hurry.”
Emory walked away from the noise so he could call Wayne. When he returned, he found Jeff lurking behind Randy Graham. Realizing they didn’t have a shot, many of the potential bidders had left, so the crowd had dwindled to more of a small gathering. Luke lingered, but his expression had morphed from one of hope to one of dejection. Peter West stomped the ground in a pace as he realized his chances for reclaiming his home were drifting into fantasy.
Jeff spotted his partner returning. “That didn’t take long. What did he say?”
“He didn’t buy it. What number are we on?”
“Lot Seven.”
Emory let a rare expletive slip out. “Shit!”
“Hardly anyone is bidding now.” Jeff spotted a black object in Randy’s vest pocket. “I have an idea!” He stepped in front of Randy to snap a quick photo with his phone. “Smile.”
Randy covered his face too late. “What are you doing?”
Jeff pointed over his shoulder. “I think someone’s outbidding you.”
“Going once…” The auctioneer eyed Randy to see if he would increase the bid.
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