Murder by Gravity

by Barbara Graham

  Tony sat up straight, his hand already reaching for his pen. “Where?”

  “Right where we should have looked when it wasn’t found out at the airstrip. The phone was in a regular fishing spot, down by the river, like it fell from the car.” The caller sounded embarrassed.

  Tony was too excited to care. He looked at Dupont. “His wife kept saying the man was going fishing locally and took the Land Rover. Makes me really curious how long the flight had been planned.”

  “Makes me really curious who drove him to the airstrip.” Wade reached for his map of the area. “Could he have walked from car to airplane?”

  “Yessir,” said Dupont. “He could have walked, but I doubt he’d have had time between his son’s account of dropping him off at the car and the pilot’s account of takeoff.”

  Tony made a noncommittal sound. “We have only guesses on both sides—the son and/or the pilot could have been off on their timetables.”

  “True. But, I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have just driven over there and left his vehicle at the airstrip.” Dupont heaved a deep breath. “I sure wouldn’t go through all that, would you?”

  “Absolutely not. You win.” Tony laughed. “The simplest solution is often the best.”

  “There wasn’t a contest.”

  Through the radio, Tony heard the sound of papers being shuffled. “Is there anything else we should know?”

  “Oh, yeah, and the cell phone was found. It was still plugged into the charger. I find it rather refreshing to find someone who is not a slave to his phone, but to toss it out?” Their informant coughed. “We pulled the calls. The last one the previous night was from his son, Carl Lee. The only one after that came in the morning from the pilot who left a message confirming an eight thirty flight time.”

  “So, when he went out for breakfast, he knew he was going flying?” Tony was just talking. “Why not tell his son? Why have him bring him back to the car? That would leave him without a way to and from the airstrip without walking.”

  “That is curious. I’m also curious why his son was there that morning of all mornings.” Sergeant Dupont hesitated. “Coincidence is really hard to prove or disprove. What did his wife say his plans were?”

  Wade laughed. “Which wife?”

  “Exactly.” Tony said, “There’s too many of them. Mrs. Laura Cashdollar, the widow, says he’s been on several of these fly and fish outings. She never knows where he’s going and says he always tries to be back in time for dinner but sometimes he’s not. She couldn’t have been more vague about his schedule, and it seemed to me like she wasn’t welcoming to Carl Lee.”

  Wade said, “I find it interesting because everyone else says the man was the king of organization and appointments, but no one knows anything about his plans.”

  “Amazingly close to my lifestyle.” Dupont chuckled. “Well, at least the try to be home for dinner part.”

  “How’s that working for you?” Tony tried to be home for dinner with his family too, but it seemed like there were too often times when that didn’t work. Maybe he should vote for his opponent in the next election, no matter who it was.

  “Not too good. I did go out to the airport and talked to Gentry Frazier again. He swears he didn’t report the jump right away because he was so shaken by the man’s behavior.”

  Tony thought he could read their liaison deputy’s mind. “I’m guessing the pilot has nerves of steel. Having some yahoo jumping out of the plane would not rattle him that badly.”

  “On that we agree,” said Dupont. “But he’s a businessman, and losing the goose with golden eggs could be more traumatic than losing a poor person.”

  Tony rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension. “Over on the Tennessee side of the mountain, the M.E. is not through with all the tests, and the family over here is getting a bit testy. I get the feeling there’s something specific the pathologist is waiting for, but he’s a really good poker player.”

  “That’s always extra hard on the family,” Dupont murmured. “Are you saying they plan on burying him over there in Tennessee instead of bringing him back to North Carolina for the funeral?”

  “I hope it’s held in your area.” Tony couldn’t help but think it would be harder on Carl Lee and Calvin to bury the man in Park County. On the other hand, he’d heard a few nightmare stories about problems taking a body across state lines. “But, as far as the body goes—finders keepers. If our pathologist wants to keep him for a year, he can.”

  “I’m hoping Tennessee keeps him forever.” Dupont’s voice held a thread of humor.

  “Why?” Tony said.

  “Security for high-profile burials is one more thing we don’t have enough officers to handle,” Dupont explained. “It’s not that the gentleman was so important, but that wife of his often draws a crowd. Money has a big voice.”

  Tony knew that statement to be true. He’d dealt with some high-profile people and they’d created all kinds of headaches for his department. “Have we checked all the traffic cameras in the area of the airport and parking lot?”

  “One of them picked up the Cashdollars, father and son, presumably going to breakfast and returning. We have Carl Lee headed out of town and we picked up his vehicle again, off and on, all the way into Cherokee.”

  Tony wasn’t surprised. “But what about that Land Rover?”

  “Nope. It hasn’t turned up in any camera, which is hardly surprising. Thousands of vehicles pass through the intersection. It will take lots of man-hours to find it.”

  “I’d guess it wasn’t stolen and parked where it was found down by the river.”

  “No. And about cameras nearest the airstrip, none of them have that particular car stopping there the morning of the flight. Of course it’s not exactly in the city.” Dupont frowned. “We got lots of cars and trucks driving past, only a few pulling into the field. One’s a fuel truck. There isn’t much out there since it’s a private airstrip. There’s a large hangar, a runway, lots of trees around it, and a small parking area.”

  “No food service or radar?”

  “Nope, a windsock is about as high tech as it appears to be.”

  “Who paid for the plane?” Tony couldn’t believe the company didn’t have a record of the payment.

  “And how’d he get there?” Dupont laughed. “I’m on it, but nobody seems either informed or interested.”

  “Is the hangar large enough for there to be parking inside? Lots of people with money might expect not to have to walk from their car to the chartered plane.”

  Dupont said, “Let me make a call.”

  Tony waited, musing about the business with the Land Rover. There were many traffic cameras scattered about the area; could someone know enough about their locations to avoid them all? And if so, why?

  Dupont interrupted Tony’s thoughts. “The answer is both yes and no. They do have parking space inside the building and some passengers have parked there, but never Franklin Cash-dollar.”

  Tony checked his watch. “We’d better get back over the mountains to do some work, Wade. We could play hide-and-seek over here all day and never accomplish anything but waste Dupont’s time.”

  Wade looked surprised when he checked his own watch. He rose to his feet. “Thanks for the help.”

  They made it home in record time. The highway over the mountain was clear and although busy, not clogged. Another storm system was working its way through but the highway department was keeping up with the snow.

  Tony stopped by the office and concentrated on his paperwork. He was determined to spend an evening with his family. Thinking too hard about work was creating a logjam in his brain.

  After dinner, he was treated to a frenzy of Halloween costume improvements. Chris had decided to add more hardware to his cardboard television, and Jamie was switching from football to ninja. Happy chaos reigned.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tony bent close to his wife’s ear and whispered, “How would you like to play detec
tive?”

  Theo turned to face him. “Are you saying you want me to stick my nose into your business? You’re always telling me to stay out of it.”

  “Just a little bit.” Tony tried for a stern expression. It must not have worked because Theo burst out laughing, causing the children’s heads to turn their way.

  “Okay, okay,” she whispered. “What information do you need from gossip central?”

  “I need to know if someone might have expected to be the next Mrs. Kenny Baines before Blossom won his heart.” Tony felt guilty he’d been so focused on the Cashdollar situation he had forgotten about Blossom’s concern. “She just called. Another threatening note arrived today.”

  Theo’s green/gold hazel eyes went wide and the lenses of her glasses intensified her shocked expression. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I don’t know enough to tell you more.” Tony hated getting her involved in his business but the information flowing through her quilt shop always had a different slant from the things reported to his office. “Jealousy is not illegal. But threatening to harm someone often leads to the action.”

  “That’s terrible.” Theo shook her head. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me answer that question. I meant to ask you earlier, but with all these trips to North Carolina and the chaos in the rest of the county, I forgot,” Tony said. “There’s no excuse.”

  Theo busied herself doing a little light housekeeping in the quilt shop’s all-purpose classroom/workroom. The early morning appliqué group was done.

  All Theo needed to do to make the room clean was to pick up some loose threads and tiny bits of fabric. The afternoon quilt-club meeting was about to begin. Today there was going to be a special visitor, Mrs. Miyoko Nakamura, a woman whose quilting had won several of the biggest shows in the world. Theo was excited to see the Japanese woman’s work up close.

  Minutes later, the back room at Theo’s shop, the quilting community’s unofficial gathering place, was packed with people, almost like a tour bus had disgorged a group. As usual, there was a group of quilters seated around the charity quilt being hand-quilted by a series of volunteers. At the far end of the room, the long-arm quilting machine—an oversized sewing machine on rails that was guided by hand while the quilt remained stationary, and that was rented by the hour—was humming as someone worked on a project.

  Theo lost track of the number of times she’d brewed another pot of coffee. The combination of the continuing snowy weather, her regular people, and the Wednesday afternoon quilting club meant no spare room. Word of their distinguished guest had traveled well beyond the county line. Theo only recognized maybe half of the quilters crammed together on folding chairs, waiting for their guest, Miyoko Nakamura.

  While they were gathering, Theo’s attempt to learn anything about Kenny’s love life, before Blossom, was a bust. No one could come up with a single bit of gossip. The overwhelming consensus was that Kenny was well rid of wife number one and had not seemed to even glance at anyone but Blossom in the years since.

  The quilting group had show-and-tell, the star of which was a show-stopping, exquisite, priceless quilt made by Mrs. Nakamura, who was new to the area. Theo knew she did beautiful work herself, but nothing like this woman’s. Theo couldn’t come up with enough words to describe the flawlessness of any of the pieces being shown. Miyoko’s large quilt had won several large international shows and deservedly so. It had even been the cover quilt on a couple of international quilting magazines. The photographs had not done it justice.

  In contrast to Miyoko’s prize-winning, labor-intensive work of art, the quilters were being shown, as their regular club program, a series of small simple projects to make for the upcoming holiday season. Theo’s mother-in-law, Jane, was patiently explaining the steps to create festive placemats and a matching table runner.

  Gretchen, Theo’s only full-time employee, was virtually chained to the cutting table while Theo happily manned the cash register. Theo’s business could use a good day. Tourists still trickled through the area but less so now that the brilliant fall colors were all but gone from the mountains. Winter was coming. Or, with the continuing snowfall, had already arrived.

  Glancing around the crowded room, Theo recognized about half of the women in the room and neither of the two men. She smiled, relieved to have a good business day.

  “My quilt?” The shrill words cut through the general chatter and happy chaos, stopping all conversation. “Where my quilt?”

  Theo reached the speaker’s side in seconds. Miyoko was a fairly new arrival in their midst. Theo had never been to Japan, but she guessed the two cultures were not interchangeable. She was positive they both shared one trait, something very important: neither condoned stealing works of art. Theo had examined and admired the quilt in question. It was priceless. A glance around the crowded room spotted lots of people but fewer than moments earlier. No sign of the quilt. She pressed a button on her cell phone, one she used only in dire emergencies.

  Flavio answered the 911 call. He listened to Theo’s explanation and transferred her call to Tony’s office line.

  He husband answered almost immediately. “Theo?”

  “There’s been a theft, Tony. A very valuable quilt was stolen.” She felt tears rise in her eyes. “In my shop. Please come and bring the cavalry. This is serious.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “My husband is the sheriff.” Theo helped Miyoko to a chair and sat in the one next to it.

  “He find quilt?” The woman pleaded with her.

  “I certainly hope so.” Theo wasn’t sure how she could handle the guilt and grief of such a loss, from her shop.

  Tony and Wade strode into the workroom, only a few minutes later.

  Tony said, “I don’t want anyone leaving until you’ve talked to us.” He indicated his deputy. “Even if you don’t think you have anything to add, you might know some little detail that will be very useful. If you will please return to where you were before the theft was discovered.”

  Theo watched the ladies grow calmer. The presence of someone who took the theft seriously and who had the confidence of the experienced investigator settled the group. They made their way back to the chairs and tables. The group working on the charity quilt threaded their needles and began stitching.

  “Is this about where you think everyone was?” Tony looked at Theo.

  “Yes.” Theo glanced around. There was more space in the room than before. “We’re not all here now. Several people have already left.”

  “And where was the quilt last seen?”

  Theo led him over to a pristine table on the far side of the room. “It was right here on this table, only we had a clean bed sheet spread out under it to keep it spotless. The quilt was unfolded so we could all study it, and there were white gloves to protect it from our hands.” Theo’s own hands shook as she gestured.

  “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have put it here.” Theo had to wipe the tears from her face. She hadn’t really thought about the table being so near the back door and having no chairs on the far side. The theft was so simple. “Anyone could have just folded it up and walked out the back door with it.”

  Tony didn’t dispute Theo’s comment, but addressed the group. “Who’s not here now that you saw earlier?” He quickly held up a hand for silence. “Just think about it, maybe write yourself a note. I don’t want anyone jumping to conclusions or putting a name in someone else’s head.”

  Wade held up his own camera. “Did anyone take pictures of the quilt?”

  “Sure, during show-and-tell, a couple of people grabbed their cell phones and snapped a shot. There were no formal pictures.” Theo clutched her cell phone. “I have a picture too.”

  “I want to see those pictures.” Tony spoke softly. “There’s a chance, not much, that a person’s face was captured where it shouldn’t have been.”

  Theo studied the room and the activity, and so
mething struck her as wrong, different. “The men.”

  “What men?” Tony said.

  “There were two of them, neither familiar. While we were at our busiest, right after show-and-tell, one of the men started coughing and then he passed out.” Theo frowned. “Several people rushed to help him but he came to almost immediately and said he was fine and that some fresh air would help so Gretchen and I helped him out the front door.”

  “Was he alone?” Tony studied the route. It would be hard for more than two people to walk side by side.

  “I don’t know. It was busy and he could have been with one woman or another, but he was definitely not a local.” Theo felt rage replace her guilt. “It was a ruse, wasn’t it? His partner took the quilt while we were distracted.”

  Tony couldn’t deny it. “He or she probably just folded the quilt up and slipped out the back door with it. Do you remember hearing the bell on the door ding?”

  Theo had had him install a bell so they would know when someone entered the building from the alley. “No, but it could have. We wouldn’t have heard it with so many people talking.”

  Tony moved to talk to the quilt’s owner, the middle-aged Japanese woman, and Theo came and stood next to her, holding Miyoko’s arm, offering support. The two women were about the same height. As tiny as Theo was, it was a rarity to see her next to a similar-sized adult. Tony pushed aside any impulse to comment about their size.

  “Mrs. Nakamura is new in town. My husband, Sheriff Abernathy,” Theo said in way of introduction. She blinked, pushing tears over the lower lid.

  “Welcome to Silersville, Mrs. Nakamura.” Tony doubted the woman was happy to be here at all. He’d talked to enough people suffering loss and tragedy that he’d learned patience. Some. “Tell me what you remember.”

  “Quilt taken.” Miyoko gripped the edges of her lightweight silk jacket.

  “Miyoko’s quilt is a masterpiece.” Theo held her cell phone out for him to see the picture.