As we came around the corner I noticed four different vehicles parked before the crypt: two patrol cars and two civilian. I also saw a man in bib overalls with a tin shield pinned to one strap about the same time he saw us. He spread his legs in the firing stance he’d doubtless seen on TV, and aimed a heavy caliber pistol at us. “You two! Stop right there!”
We stopped, feigning surprise.
“Hands up!”
We raised our hands, exchanged no-clue expressions.
The man held the gun rigidly before him, tried to look calm and professional behind his straw hat, tapped hard at the badge on his overalls. “Police officer!” It sounded about as official as it looked. Perhaps realizing we realized this, he turned his head and called loudly to the open door of the crypt: “Pete! I got ‘em!”
Then he whipped back to us. “Just stay frosty, and nobody gets hurt!” also like they say it on TV.
“What’s up?” I asked innocently.
“Like you don’t know!” But the heavy gun trembled a little before him, until he remembered to hold it up with both hands.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows of the ruined crypt door. Cormac.
He didn’t even look particularly surprised to see us. “That’ll do, Lem. These people are friends of mine.”
Straw Hat lowered his gun with controlled professionalism but clear relief.
“You go join the others now, Lem.”
The man shuffled his feet, heavy gun dangling. “Sheriff, Darlene’s got supper waiting at home. If you don’t need me no more…”
“That’s fine, Lem, you go on home to Darlene, this was obviously a prank call.” Cormac came toward us with a friendly grin. He was chewing something. He paused to call to the crypt door. “Pete?”
A slim, boyish figure with a mop of blonde hair appeared in the crypt’s scarred doorway. A kid, lugging a heavy deer rifle and a heavier-looking tin badge. “Hey! You caught ‘em, Sheriff!” grinning freckles.
Cormac winked our way without turning to the youth. “No, Pete, there’s no one to catch out here tonight. You go on back home now like Lem. Thanks for your help, I’ll send you a county-signed paycheck in the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that, Sheriff, happy to volunteer my time to community serv—“
“G’night now, Pete.”
Pete tramped toward his battered Prius, reluctantly dragging his deer rifle, his big night of playing cop over before it had begun.
Cormac stood before us, lifted his cap, wiped his brow, stuck the cap back in place. “Well, did y’all find any?”
Katie and I resisted looking at each other, retained our clueless poise. Find any what? Money?
“Find any?” Katie said smoothly, smiling one of her naturally fetching smiles, never lost on Cormac.
“Any evidence about little Amy. Ain’t that why you’re here?”
Katie didn’t skip a beat. “Actually we were here to see Dean Robichou. Dropped by his house earlier but found him not at home. Decided he might have come out here to visit Roger, say good-bye again properly.”
“Well. That’s mighty nice of you.”
“He’s a nice man,” Katie said.
‘Is a nice man.’ Present tense. Right on her toes.
“Not anymore, I’m afraid.”
“What is it?” I asked, sounding completely disingenuous in my own ears.
“Hoping maybe you could tell me that,” from Cormac, smile gone, bill of his cap hiding his eyes in shadow.
“I don’t understand,” Katie said worriedly.
Cormac turned to look at her. A moment longer that he needed to. Then he nodded back toward the mausoleum. “Dean Robichou’s inside the crypt there on his face. Dead.”
Katie’s hand flew to her mouth. A handy gesture only a woman can pull off. All I could do was let my jaw drop a little and restate the obvious. “Dead?”
“As a mackerel.”
Katie blinked shock. “W-What happened?”
Cormac watched her another moment. It almost became awkward—or suspicious--before he finally turned his head to spit at the weeds--a thin brown stream--then turned back at her. “Still trying to determine that. Heart attack, by all appearances.”
“Oh, that’s awful!” from Katie.
Cormac watched her.
To take his eyes away from hers, I spoke up: “Especially now, with his wife in custody. Poor woman.”
Cormac turned my way, sized me up with shadowed eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“Wasn’t Dean trying to scrape up some money for her bail or something?”
Cormac turned to spit the other way this time, dangerously close to my shoe. There was the tiniest smudge of rat blood on the toe, I notice. “Well, now that’s the way I heard it myself, yes.”
“That’s just awful,” Katie said, looking toward my car.
Cormac looked at the ground, right hand resting on the checkered butt of his revolver, shuffled one boot at the sandy soil. “You folks walk all the way out here from town?”
“No, we drove.” I gestured. “Car’s over there.”
Cormac turned to look at it. “Uh-huh. Nice model.”
“Thanks.”
“Expensive?”
“Expensive enough.”
Another awkward silence during which Cormac made no move to dismiss us.
I decided to end it. “So, how did you think we might be able to help you, Sheriff?”
Cormac toed the earth. “Oh, you know…thought maybe you saw someone hightailing it out of here earlier.” He looked up at me. “Some suspicious? Hanging around the crypt?”
“No,” but it came from both Katie and me at the same time and a second too quickly.
Cormac watched us, poker-faced.
“But we haven’t been here long,” I added. Had we? ‘Long’ was a relative term.
“So, far as you know you’re the only ones been around Roger’s crypt tonight.”
“As far as we know.”
Cormac nodded. “Just the two of you.”
“Yes.”
“Uh-huh. See, we got this anonymous call a few minutes ago, sayin’ there was a prowler lurking about the area.”
“Maybe the caller saw us,” Katie said to my surprise.
Cormac shrugged. “Doubt that. Though I suppose it’s possible. How long you all been lurking about did you say?”
I stuck my hands on my hips, tired of it. “Just long enough for Katie here to watch the door while I broke into the crypt, knocked out Dean and stole his money.”
For a second I thought Cormac wasn’t going to smile…then it came slow but ear-to-ear. “This where Mr. Robichou keeps his money, is it?”
I hitched my shoulders absently. “Well, according to the New Orleans police he couldn’t pay Angel’s bail with a check, and he doesn’t have a regular bank account. So I guess it has to be somewhere.”
Cormac held the grin, nodded. “Heard that myself. So, where’d you find his money in a twelve-by-twenty mausoleum?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, Sheriff, can’t tell you that. Secret gets out, everyone might want some.”
Cormac chuckled, hands on his belt now. “That’s a good one. You’re a card, Professor. Your students ever tell you that?”
“Sometimes. Maybe it’s why I didn’t get tenure.”
I doubted Cormac knew what tenure was. But he was a man of surprises. The bill of his shiny cap swept the cemetery grounds once. “You know, I been comin’ up here off and on now since I was just a kid. And the place hasn’t changed an inch.”
“Oh?”
Shook his head. “Still just as creepy and spooky-lookin.’ Scared the bejesus outta me when I was a kid…”
“So why’d you keep coming?” from Katie.
He turned to her, not smiling. “Curiosity.”
“Killed the cat,” Katie said.
“Uh-huh. But I got over my fear of the thing. Of anything, actually.”
He was thoughtfully silent again as he accessed the cem
etery one more time, then his shadowed, unreadable eyes swung back to us. “Well, I won’t keep you good folks any longer.”
“Sorry about Dean, Sheriff,” I said, “I know you were friends.”
Cormac half-arched a brow. “As good a friend as Dean would let anyone be. Kept to hisself a lot, you probably noticed. Not outgoing and talkative. Like you folks.”
Katie cleared her throat. “We’ve got to do something to help his poor wife.”
Cormac nodded. “Yeah, this is going to be a bruiser for her. ‘Specially after—you know, the two kids.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I best get ahold of the ME, see after poor Dean’s body. You folks drive safe now in that fancy classic vehicle.”
“We will.” I stuck out my hand. “Sheriff…”
Cormac looked at it a hesitant second, finally shook it.
We were about twenty feet away, still trying to walk casually, headed for my car when he called out behind us. “Ain’t an easy job bein’ sheriff!”
We turned.
“Even in a small town! Tougher in some ways!”
I could tell Katie wanted to keep going, hurry on, but I could feel something coming and hesitated. “Yes, I imagine so.”
Cormac had his cap off again, wiping at his brow. “Yeah. ‘Specially in the area of protocol and procedure. Sometimes you got to ask people you like questions they might not like, might find rude.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Worst part of the job, I’d say.”
“What can we do for you, Sheriff?”
He came to us with that amiable swagger. “Start calling me Cormac, for one!”
“Cormac.”
He stopped before us, put his hand back on the butt of his gun. “Main reason I hoped maybe you saw someone out here tonight, was so…well…”
“We could identify them,” from Katie.
“Or,” I said measuredly, “so they could identify us. Right. Build us an alibi? You know, in case we really did break into that mausoleum? Right? Sheriff?”
He grinned wide again. “Now, Elliot…we both know you need a key to get into that ole crypt.”
“And once inside, there’s no keyhole did let you out again…if you should allow that big door to swing shut. I was one of the pallbearers at Roger’s funeral.”
Cormac chuckled. “So you were, so you were…”
One more instance of protracted silence.
“So what can we do for you, Sheriff?”
“Just leave off the ‘sheriff’ part, for one thing, I truly do detest formalities. As you’ve already seen by the sloppy condition of my office!”
“Sloppy but organized. Like my own office at school.”
He chuckled. “Mighty kind of you. Problem is, there’s just a few police formalities, especially after a death, a law enforcement man can’t afford to legally let slip by.”
“Yes?”
“Elliot, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to turn out your pockets for me.”
I couldn’t entirely suppress my expression but tried to cover it with a smile.
“Why?”
Cormac held up both hands defensively, took a step back. “I ain’t going to embarrass y’all by slamming you up against a wall, pattin’ you down. I know you’re good, law-abidin’ folks, hell, anyone can see that just by looking.”
“But--?”
“It’s strictly procedure, folks. A formality. Or call it a favor, if you like.”
I studied him a moment. “Sure, Sheriff.”
I turned out my front pockets, holding out the handful of change from one, set of car and house keys from the other.
Cormac nodded. “Always wanted me one of them fancy Thunderbird’s. Thank you. Elliot.”
I turned around, gave him my backside pockets. “Help yourself.”
“No, no…hell, I can see the back ones are flat.”
“Cavity search?”
He laughed.
I turned back, raised by arms high. “Shirt pocket?”
“That’s all right,” from Cormac.
“No, I insist!”
He patted my shirt quickly. “Fine, fine. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Not a problem.” I gestured at Katie. “Would you care to strip search Miss Bracken?”
Cormac shook his head, eyes lowered. “You’re embarrassin’ me now, Elliot!”
Yeah, I thought, I’ll bet.
“Not on duty anyway,” Katie added.
And the sheriff laughed louder at that one. And that started Katie laughing. And then we were all laughing.
And Cormack, still chuckling lightly, turned to her smiling and said, “Would like a look at that shoulder bag though, Miss Katie.”
Katie’s expression fell. Along with my heart.
I stepped in front of her, raised both palms. “Okay, Cormac, that’s about enough, huh? We’ve been cooperative tonight, but we have a life to lead, as I’m sure you do.”
“Indeed, and it includes complete canvassing of the crime scene.”
“It’s a crime now?” Katie said flatly.
“Possible crime,” from Cormac. “So if you’d open that purse for me, please.”
Katie reached up slowly for the bag strap.
I caught her hand. “She doesn’t have to do this!”
Cormac nodded. “She certainly does not. Not here. We can go back to the station, fine with me. You’re call, Miss Bracken.”
“It was just plain ‘Katie’ a moment ago, Cormac,” Katie said. “Is a tube of lipstick, a compact, some Kleenex and chewing gum worth a friendship?”
“Got nothing to do with friendship, Miss Katie. You know how I feel about you…the both of you.”
“What about trust?”
“The law don’t recognize trust I’m afraid, ma’am. Sometimes wish it did.”
“Uh-huh. Fine.” Katie pulled the bag from her shoulder, thrust it at him. “You do it then. And expect to hear from my attorney in the morning. Who will invite you to the courthouse next week where you can attempt to show cause. I’m not a fool, sheriff, and you don’t have a warrant for this.”
Cormac’s face went hard. “I asked you nice…”
“The law recognizes ‘nice’, does it?” She shoved the purse into his chest.
Cormack took it from her…gave her a meaningful look, turned the purse upside down and poured the entire contents on the ground. I felt my fists double reflexively.
The sheriff pushed the toe of his boot through the spilled contents.
There was no key.
Katie held out her hand stiffly for her bag.
Cormac held onto it, pulled the zippered mouth wide, tilted it toward him, felt around inside. Nothing.
He turned the bag around in his hands, found the nearly invisible slit. “And what’s this?”
Katie held her expression. “That’s the secret compartment where I hid the key.”
Cormac grunted, felt around until he located the hidden zipper, pulled it back and stuck his fingers inside. No key.
In a moment he handed her back the purse. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Pick it up,” I said evenly.
Cormac turned to me.
“The stuff you spilled on the ground. Pick it up!”
“Sheriff--?”
It was Jimmy Olson calling from the open mausoleum door. “Sheriff, you got a second?”
We all turned to Jimmy, who was waving at the air, something clenched in his hand.
“Found this in Mr. Robichou’s pocket!”
He held it out as we all approached.
The brass key.
THIRTY
“Okay,” I said behind the T-Bird’s wheel again, “so how come Cormac didn’t find the key in your handbag?”
Katie gave a little snort in the seat beside me. “Because I never put it in there. I slipped it back in Dean’s pocket while you were checking the noises at the crypt door.”
I was stunned. “What on earth made you do t
hat?”
She tapped her temple like before. “Intuition, sweetie, intuition. You pragmatic types wouldn’t understand.”
I thought about it. “So—assuming Jimmy did a really thorough job of searching through the body’s clothing—Dean really didn’t have a spare key with him.”
“Lucky for us.”
“But not so lucky for Dean. That means he knew about the trap door, it was the only way he could have gotten into the mausoleum tonight.”
“And someone else knows about it too. That’s what got Dean killed.”
“For the money. Which we never found. Meaning whoever killed Dean did. Assuming he was really killed and didn’t just drop dead when he saw his money was stolen…”
“Maybe not.” Katie glanced out at the rushing green scenery. “Amy’s vault had a false bottom. Could be that Dean’s killer found it empty just like we did.”
I shook my head slowly. “Or it could mean there was no money there in the first place and Dean only came by to say good-bye to Roger as we first thought, and died of a heart attack. No wound on the body, remember?”
“His forehead.”
“He could have done that to himself when he hit the floor. The truth is, Katie—“
“No! Don’t say it! We are not back to square one! I don’t want to hear it! And if you keep on saying it, Elliot, you’re going to put a jinx on the whole thing!”
I felt mild irritation. “I don’t jinx. That’s Mamma Grace’s department.”
And then I fell silent for some time.
Katie finally turned to me. “So where are we going, anyway?”
“To bed. It’ll be morning again before you know it and we’ve got to catch some sleep. Tomorrow morning we’ll go check.”
“On what?”
I just looked at her.
“—oh. Right. Rita.”
* * *
Next morning we had a quick breakfast, drove to the little clinic and parked in the gravel drive.
We marched past the girl at the desk and straight to Rita’s room. Which was empty.
“What the hell--!”
“Don’t,” Katie urged, “just don’t panic again. You’re never going to get good at this profession if you panic about everything you don’t understand.”
FEVER DREAMS: A Bracken and Bledsoe Paranormal Mystery Page 30