by CC Abbott
"Alkali metal. Sodium, to be exact."
"Sodium?" He said. "Really."
"A significant quantity was also found on the body of the victim."
“You won’t believe this,” Boone said and explained about the theft of the supply from the college lab supply, as well as the find of the empty bag in the custodian's closet.
"Good to know," Abner said, "We can get together later to compare notes. Listen, Boone, I've got a job for you. Some investigative work to see who might be setting these fires. You up to it?"
Perfect. Finally, he could stop waiting around for the experts and take an active role in finding the arsonist and maybe, Consuelo Vega's killer.
"You bet. You know, the sheriff is saying that Stumpy Meeks is a suspect in the arsons."
"The sheriff says lots of things that aren’t true. You'll find that out real quick."
"What do you need me to do? Collect more physical evidence?"
"I want you to interview a Troy Blevins that teaches at your old high school."
"The band director? Why him? I was hoping you’d want dirt on Eugene Loach."
"Never heard of him."
"He was the firefighter who let Mrs. Vega die. Lamar filed a formal complaint against him for dereliction of duty." Boone still couldn't believe he had done that. Maybe now, he will reinstate me, he thought. "He has to involved somehow."
"Maybe he is." The line was silent for a few seconds. "But I still need you to ask this band teacher some questions."
Boone sighed. "Email me the questions."
"Already did. Check your inbox."
Boone could hear the amusement in his voice and might have been annoyed if he hadn't noticed a patrol car roll by and then hit its lights. It swung into the parking place a few slots ahead of Lamar. As Boone peered around the delivery truck, Deputy Mercer climbed out. He wore the same pair of mirrored sunglasses and carried a ticket book tucked under his arm.
"Okay, Doc," he said. "Anything else? There's a situation here. I've got to go."
"Just one more thing."
"What's that?" Boone answered.
"I need you to lend me five hundred dollars and then come down to Stanford tomorrow morning."
"Why do you need five hundred dollars?"
"Bail money. I'm in jail."
"That jackass has more nerve than brains," Lamar told Boone as they rolled down Highway 12 toward Stanford. "He's giving tickets to god and everybody."
"What do you mean?" Boone asked.
He tried to sound nonchalant. But his brain was functioning on high alert. Before he had hung up, Abner admitted that he was in the county lock up for interfering with a police investigation. He wouldn't go into details, except that Hoyt had made the arrest himself. He also said that he was fine, and there was no need to hurry on his account because the arraignment wouldn't be until tomorrow morning.
Then when Boone got back to the truck, Mercer was finishing a parking ticket, as well as a noise ordinance violation.
"Wait just a cotton picking minute," Lamar had said. "You're a county deputy. You can't write me up for a city ordinance."
"Tell it to the judge."
"Come on now," Lamar said, his voice rising. "We're both in public service. How about a little professional courtesy?"
"Professional courtesy is for professionals." Mercer clicked his tongue. "Maybe you vollies should learn to be real firemen, instead of little boys playing with water hoses."
With that, Mercer had handed the tickets to Lamar, sauntered back to the prowler, and pulled slowly into traffic right in front of a logging truck, which had to lay on its brakes to keep from pancaking him.
"I almost wish that truck had kept going," Lamar said. "I have to talk with Hoyt about that boy. The power's gone to his head, that's for sure. The last thing we need is the police interfering with our duty."
"True," Boone said, remembering that Mercer had done just that the morning of the Tin City fire. He also thought of Abner sitting in a cell for interfering and reminded himself not to spill about the arrest. "Who else did he give tickets to?"
"Julia, for one. She was on the way to that brush fire, as a matter of fact. The Atamasco captain was telling me that one of his people got one last week, too."
“Mercer knows how to spread the love around,” Boone said.
Lamar clicked on the radio. It only had AM band, and Bragg County had a choice of two stations, local talk radio and classic rock. Lamar preferred the rock, but the signal was breaking up. He pushed the button for the talk station. A commercial was playing for a new development, Autumn Hills, the same one that Boone had seen in Landis’s office.
Lamar shook his head at the stupidity. "Building in the flood plain. Hope they know how to swim."
"Isn't that illegal?" Boone asked. "How did they get the permits?"
"Autumn Hills Development Company has Trey Landis on the board. That's the only permit they needed."
"I didn't think you were so cynical."
"When you're born and bred in Bragg County, it ain't cynicism. It's called the Way Things Work."
Boone leaned forward to turn the volume lower when bumper music came on. The host, who like Lamar had been born and bred in Bragg County and had the accent to prove it, started off the segment with breaking news.
"Sheriff P.D. Hoyt has issued an APB for Henry James Meeks, wanted for questioning in the recent fires in western Bragg County, as well the death of Consuelo Maria Lopez Vega. Anyone knowing his whereabouts please contact the Bragg County Sheriff's Office."
Lamar shook his head in disbelief. "There's a stretch if I ever heard one."
"Oh?" Boone said nonchalantly, but he was dying to hear Lamar's theory.
"A man reports one fire, so they assume he planned the second one. As if Stumpy could stay sober long enough to plan his next meal."
"I thought Stumpy gave up drinking. That's what he told me."
"I'm sure he did."
They were interrupted by the sound of Mom's voice. "It is an outrage that the removal of human remains was done without permission and without regard to simple human dignity."
"What?"
"Shh," Lamar said.
The announcer followed the sound bite. "Local veterinarian Mary Harriett Rivenbark has called for a protest at tonight's planning commission meeting. At the heart of the dispute is the relocation of a family cemetery in the Tin City community." Then he invited callers to phone in questions.
Boone clicked off the radio. He had heard enough.
Lamar went silent for a few seconds. You up for a burger at Barefoot Bennie’s?"
“Mind if invite a couple of friends along?” Boone asked.
“Not at all,” he said and shifted gears. “The more the merrier.”
The air in Barefoot Bennie’s smelled of cooking bacon and hamburgers frying on the grill, and Bennie herself was nowhere to be seen, which both relieved and disappointed Boone.
Their party was served by Gretchen. She wore her close cut black hair pinned underneath the purple colored ball cap embroidered with the Barefoot Bennie’s logo.
"I'll take orange juice instead of Coke," Luigi told her.
"One OJ." Gretchen held the table close to her face as she scribbled.
"Gretchen," Cedar asked her, "when're you going to get your eyes checked?"
"I'm training my eyes to see molecules," Gretchen said and winked at Luigi.
"Luigi!" Boone said. "That's my line."
Gretchen smacked her gum. "Imitation is the highest form of flattery."
"That is very wise," Luigi said.
Boone coughed and made a kissy face.
Cedar swatted him. "I think they make a cute couple."
As soon as they had gotten their food and found an empty booth, Lamar spotted Julia on the other side of the restaurant eating alone. "I'm going to go keep Julia company. Oh, yeah, Boone, I almost forgot. Your mama wants you at the planning meeting for support. You kids behave yourselves."
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sp; Boone watched as Lamar crossed to where Julia was sitting. His eyes met hers for a second, then she pointed at Cedar and back to him. She mouthed the words, You two?
Boone responded with a nod, and she gave him the thumbs up. Just to make sure he got the message, she winked and made the okay sign. Maybe things weren’t going to be awkward between them. Well, maybe not so awkward.
He breathed a sigh of relief, though he couldn't help wondering if Lamar wasn't just as relieved to be rid of teenagers for a while. He wasn't happy about the prospect of sitting in front of a frumpy table of bureaucrats all evening, though. He assuaged his frustration by retelling the day's events to his friends.
"So to summarize," Cedar said after Boone finished his info dump of clues. "Your stepfather filed a complaint against Eugene Loach. Your grandfather's in jail, but you're not planning to bail him out until tomorrow. Sodium was found at both crime scenes, and the sheriff thinks Stumpy Meeks is a suspect. Oh, and I forgot. Mr. Blevins is in the middle of all this?"
"That's why Abner wants me to interview him."
Luigi agreed. "He has been acting very strangely."
"So has Dr. K," Boone said. He relayed what had happened after the campus cop investigated the theft.
"And you're going to do this interview?" Cedar asked, biting into a burger with chili and slaw.
"Sure."
Cedar wiped chili off her mouth. "Want help?"
“From you? Anytime.” He offered a hand, and she took it, then gave him a quick but spicy kiss. “Any time at all.”
They parted company with Lamar in the parking lot of Barefoot Bennie’s. He and Julia were planning to put in new fencing around the pastures tomorrow, and they wanted to unload the posts and barbed wire in preparation. When Cedar heard about Mom's protest at the planning commission meeting, she just had to go, a result that Boone had been hoping for. Luigi joined in so that he could see American democracy in action.
"Probably, you won't see much democracy," Boone warned him as they reached downtown and Cedar searched for a parking spot on the square. "Not much action, either."
They followed a group of protestors with homemade signs into the courthouse. The planning commission met on the second floor in one of the rooms adjacent to the courtroom, and when they entered, the room was standing room only. Boone counted fourteen rows of seats, twenty chairs per row. Every one of them was filled with a person holding a placard. Behind the chairs and alongside the rows, dozens more people stood. They had placards, too. They were stapled to yardsticks to make signs.
In front of the room, separated from the gallery by velvet rope were two tables. The one facing the audience seated the seven members of the Bragg County Planning Commission, all of whom shared the same deer-in-the-headlights look. Boone's Mom sat at the table facing the Commissioners, with her back to the crowd. A man in a navy suit sat at her right elbow. Boone recognized him as Mom's attorney. A third person sat the other end at Mom's table. He had slicked backed hair, and he wore a pinstriped dark suit with a crimson square tucked into the breast pocket of the jacket. Even from the back, Boone knew it was Trey Landis.
He leaned over to speak a silver-haired man sleeping in a wheelchair. The man raised his head, and Boone realized it was Trey's father, G.D. Landis. He nodded his head twice and fell back asleep.
"Who's that?" Cedar whispered to Boone as they found a place for all three of them on the back wall. He could see his mother's face from that angle. She looked nervous under the bright lights and in front of a microphone.
"George Deems Landis himself," Boone said. "I'm surprised they brought him out tonight. His health is fragile."
Cedar’s eyes narrowed. "That's pretty inconsiderate, if you ask me."
Before Boone could ask what she meant, the gavel came down and the meeting came to order. After the prayer and pledge, the first and only item on the agenda was the discussion of a planned community in the western area of town, a mixed-use neighborhood that would feature homes, shopping, nature trails, and a championship golf course called Autumn Hills.
Mom's attorney leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Down the table, Landis turned to the crowd and waved at several people he knew. Their placards vanished behind the backs of the chairs in front of them. Boone plucked his lower lip. One look from the man, and the signs went down. It wasn’t even a threatening look. It was a smile, wide, with gleaming teeth that can be only gotten from a dentist’s chair. On the surface, it was a friendly gesture, but Boone got the same message that the crowd got. That smile was a threat. Boone didn’t like threats, especially when the bully pretended to be a friend.
The chair of the commission, a portly blonde man in a pink dress shirt and no jacket said, "I believe this proposal is pro forma. We discussed this in closed session, as you know. The county engineer's read over the plans and—"
"Point of order," Mom interrupted. "I believe you skipped a step on the agenda. You're required to begin the meeting with public input."
"Sorry, didn't see you." The portly man covered his eyes to shield the bright lights. "Is there anybody, ah, here who'd like to comment?”
The crowd burst out in laughter.
"I take that as a yes,” the man said.
More laughter. Even Trey Landis smiled.
"I'll go first," Mom said, "since I'm already sitting at the table."
The chair pulled at his collar. "State your name for the record, then."
"You know my name, Charlie. I treated your dog for mange last week."
The crowd hooted.
"Let's stick to the subject, Dr. Rivenbark,” the chair said. “We don't need an unruly puppet show here."
Ouch, Boone thought. Charlie had obviously read Mom's comments in the newspaper.
"Have it your way. Dr. Mary Harriett Rivenbark, DVM. For the record, I represent the mob behind me. We are here to protest the illegal removal of bodies from graves in Tin City."
The chair covered the microphone with a meaty paw. He and the other six commissioners whispered among themselves for almost a minute. Boone noticed that the crowd followed suit. Their louder voices drowned out anything the commissioners said.
"After conferring with my colleagues," the chair said, "we think you should take this up with the sheriff. It's out of our purview."
The crowd booed. They raised their placards and chanted. The commissioners looked decidedly more nervous, but Boone noticed that Landis never stopped smiling.
"That's not true," Mom said. "The sheriff referred the case to you, since you approved of the development plan for the Autumn Hills development without first asking the Bragg County Historical Society to research the property, which if you had been anything other than a rubber stamp for greedy developers, you would have done. Then you would have found out that there is a cemetery on the property."
"I expected better from a doctor," Charlie the portly man said. "Where do you get off calling us a rubber stamp?"
Mom leaned over the microphone. "Like my granny always said, if you lie with dogs, you're going to get fleas."
The crowd broke out into applause. Half of them stood and waved their placards, looking like a football crowd cheering a touchdown.
"Order! Order!" the chair pounded the gavel on the table. "Get hold of yourselves before I have a deputy throw you all out. And Mary Harriett—"
"Dr. Rivenbark to you."
"—I think you've wasted enough time here tonight."
Mom covered the mic and asked her attorney a question.
"May I have a word, please?" Landis unhooked his microphone from the stand so that he could walk closer to the crowd. "This is all a misunderstanding, and I think I can clear it up to everybody's satisfaction. I can see why you good people are upset. What Dr. Rivenbark describes is indeed a disturbing scenario. Let me assure that the truth is a different matter. The development of the so-called Tin City property is one hundred percent legal. We have complied with every federal regulation, every state law, every local statute. Yo
u see, state law requires that when human remains are moved, the next of kin must be located. If the next of kin cannot be relocated, then the County Commission must approve of a move. However, that is unnecessary, because we purchased the property from the next of kin. Before we acquired it, we agreed to the interment of a small, family cemetery with the owner, Mr. Troy Blevins, whom I believe is a local music teacher. Mr. Blevins is in attendance tonight, along with his lovely sister, Athena."
The crowd murmured, and Blevins stood up. His hands shook. Mr. Blevins had conducted the band through dozens of concerts, marching shows, and festivals, but this was the first time anyone had ever seen him nervous.
"It's, um, true what, um, Mr. Landis said. The graveyard is, um, our family cemetery. Our grandparents are buried there, along with our aunts and uncles. Athena and I, we're the last of the family left and so, well, y'all know how it is these days with the government taxing everything."
The sister stood up. Boone got his first clear look at her face.
It was Dr. K.
"They're brother and sister?" he whispered to Cedar.
"Looks like it.”
So the heated conversation Dr. K had with Blevins after the sodium theft hadn't been a love triangle. Dr. K had called Troy when she heard that Stumpy was a suspect. How did that fit in?
"Ladies and gentlemen," Dr. K began, "what my brother is trying to say is, as embarrassing as this is, we had no choice but to sell the property. The inheritance taxes on our parents' home were more than we could afford on our teachers' salaries. We were facing a tax auction until Mr. Landis heard about our problem. He gave us a fair price. More than a fair price."
"What's that got to do with moving your kin?" one of the protesters called out.
"The cemetery would have been moved no matter what," Mr. Blevins called back. "Except it would've been the government doing it."
That doesn’t sound right, Boone thought. There were at least a hundred graves on the property, so it had to be more than the small family cemetery. North Carolina law was funky sometimes, but he didn't think that even the government could move graves without the family's permission.