“What if Cece and Hans are here. What if they came here looking for the soldiers’ graves? You have to admit it’s a whale of a human-interest story. What if they ran up on the killer?”
“Gertrude Strom?” Tinkie guessed.
“I’m not sure. Coleman said he had a sighting of Gertrude north of here. He’s on that lead right now.”
“Then who is the killer? We have to figure that out. Now.”
Tinkie was right about that. “I think Cosmo may know more than he’s let on. It’s possible that he fled the hospital because he felt threatened.”
“If he saw the person who attacked him, he could be in real danger.”
“And he could also be a really big help, if he saw his attacker. I thought he ran out of the hospital because he was dodging Sheriff Glory. Now, I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Why would the killer come back here?” Tinkie asked.
“The same reason he came here in the first place.”
“Which is?” Tinkie had her shoe back on and was impatiently tapping her foot.
“I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”
Before we went any deeper into the gardens, I decided to call Daniel Reynolds and alert him to the fact that we were traipsing about. With the things that had gone on in the last week, Reynolds might be inclined to shoot first and ask questions later if he caught a trespasser. I didn’t believe he’d object to us searching for Cosmo and Cece—and I hoped he might even come help us. Or at least send Brutus. I’d gotten so used to Sweetie Pie and Chablis, and even Pluto, helping with our cases, that I felt naked without an animal along.
The phone rang and rang and neither Daniel nor his wife answered.
“Maybe they went into town for a meal or something. He works hard all the time.” Tinkie nudged my arm. “Do you have any snacks in your purse?”
“I don’t carry snacks in my purse. If I had anything it would be cigarettes and I don’t have any of those either.”
“I could use some nabs or chips or even pork rinds.” Her face lit up. “Hot and spicy pork rinds. I want some.”
“I am never getting pregnant. Never. I will not become some kind of bottomless pit of hunger. And the things you want to eat! Good grief, Tinkie.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had a greater appreciation for the pleasures of food. The crunch, the poof of each little puff of rind, the smoky sweet. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh, yeah I do. About fifty pounds. Girl, I’m going to have to start wheeling you around in a cart if you keep this up.”
Tinkie only laughed. “I’m going to have the healthiest, finest baby ever. Who cares if I blow up like a Macy’s parade balloon?”
I had to laugh. “I sure don’t as long as you’re healthy and happy. Now let’s start looking for those soldiers’ graves. Any ideas?”
“We’ve been to the boundary of the property on the north and west. Let’s go south or east.”
“I’m not so great at navigating by the stars.” I didn’t know one constellation from the next.
“That’s why I have a compass app on my phone.” She held it up and pointed down the trail. “That’s south. This will take us into the area where the spotted water hemlock grows. I also have a topography map app and I checked it yesterday. We have to be careful. There are natural springs in the area, so there’ll be water. And maybe snakes. I don’t have a lot of love for moccasins.”
“Me either.”
“Watch where you step. If those soldiers are buried anywhere, I’d be willing to bet it’s in this area.”
As I was stepping from root to root in the boggy area that ultimately fed the River Jordan and the Dead Sea, I pondered how so many of the dead—or assaulted—people in our case were tied to dance competitions. But not Snaith or the original corpse, Slay.
“Do you still have the number to the hospital?” I asked Tinkie. She always had the number to everywhere.
“Sure.”
“Would you call Betsy Dell’s room? Ask her if Perry Slay was ever involved with Claudia Brooks.”
“Good question.” Tinkie dialed and put the phone on speaker. “Betsy, do you know if Claudia Brooks was ever involved with Perry Slay?”
“She wouldn’t have anything to do with that billboard lawyer!” Betsy was indignant.
“Not romantically, but legally. You said she was dropped on a cruise. Did she sue the cruise line?”
There was a long hesitation. “Yes, she did, but it was a huge secret. She never wanted Erik to know. After she was paralyzed, she wanted Erik totally out of her life.”
“But Slay represented her in the suit?” I pressed.
“He sold himself as being able to handle that kind of suit, but he really couldn’t. He said he could pick the jury that would give her the biggest award. It was all just total bullshit. He couldn’t lawyer his way out of a paper sack.”
“Why didn’t he win the suit?” Tinkie asked.
“The jury said it wasn’t the cruise line’s fault. They said Claudia was up and walking when she left this area. They claimed it was the treatment she took, against the cruise ship doctor’s advice, that left her paralyzed. And she also signed a release for the cruise line.”
“What was the treatment?” I knew it in my bones. This was the final twist of the knife, but I had to hear it from Betsy. “Did Erik provide her with painkillers or some kind of drugs?”
“Heavens no. Erik is by the book on that prescription stuff. It was Snaith. He told Claudia to do rigorous exercise and take some of his pills and tinctures.”
“What happened?”
“The combination of the aggravated muscles, swelling, and then the exercise, along with whatever he gave her that caused more swelling, well, her spinal cord was pinched between two vertebrae and it was severed.”
Tinkie and I found a fallen tree to sit on. It was like all the air had been let out of us. “Why would she go to Snaith for medical care and not a licensed doctor or physical therapist?” I asked.
“She wanted to dance in another competition. She didn’t want to take the time the orthopedic said she needed to heal from the fall.”
“Then it wasn’t Erik’s fault at all.”
“You can’t say that. She wouldn’t have been seeking Snaith’s help if Erik hadn’t dropped her.” Her words rang hollow, and I knew reality was dawning, even on her.
Tinkie chimed in. “Claudia’s accident is the link,” she said. “That’s what ties Slay, Erik, and Snaith all together. And Patrice Pepperdine, too. She replaced Claudia as Erik’s dance partner.”
“And Ana Arguello, too.” I added. This wasn’t information we needed to be giving Betsy Dell, but I had a few more questions for her.
“You were Claudia’s friend and you’ve tried to make Erik pay for what happened to her. Why would a killer, if he or she is seeking retribution for what happened to Claudia, attack you?”
“I’m the person who suggested Claudia go to Snaith.” Her voice was thick, and I knew she was crying.
“You were trying to help her.”
“I have to quit blaming Erik and accept the part I played in what happened. After she was paralyzed, she moved away. I tried to stay in touch, but I felt so guilty. I just let the weeks pass. I was a terrible friend.”
“Who would want to avenge Claudia’s death? Do you know?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you think of anyone, please call us.”
“I have to go.” The line went dead.
In the pale starlight, Tinkie and I sat on our log in silence. We’d linked the attacks and the murders, all except for Cosmo, who I believed I could eventually prove was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we were no closer to finding the actual killer. Nor our friend.
33
When Tinkie finally stood up, she squared her shoulders. “I have to pee again.”
I snorted a laugh. It was such an unexpected comment. “Here Cece is missing—again—and your bladder takes cen
ter stage.”
“We’re going to have a talk with Cece. She can’t keep this up. It wasn’t a month ago we were worried sick about her, and now, here we are again.”
Her little bit of humor gave me the courage to stand up and start to work. “Let’s find that grave site.”
“Should we call Snaith and warn him? He’s been attacked once. If our theory that the attacks go back to Claudia Brooks and her injury are correct, Snaith might consider leaving town until the killer is found,” Tinkie said.
It was a consideration. I didn’t care for the snake-oil salesman, but I also didn’t want his death on my head. “Call him, but hurry.”
She was about to press call when the sound of an animal either in pain or in anger stopped us in our tracks. “What was that?” Tinkie asked.
“I don’t know.” The woods around us had turned very quiet, as if even the animals were reluctant to move or make a noise. The cry came again. “I think it’s something small, like a rabbit,” I said. “Predators are out at night. Owls and foxes and things.”
Tinkie shuddered. “I hate the cruelty of nature sometimes.”
I’d stepped off the path and as I turned to face Tinkie, I saw something glint in the moonlight. “What’s that?”
We worked our way across the little spring and found ourselves on a road. Not exactly a road, but a woodland trail. Someone had driven down it recently. The tire impressions in the soft earth were still visible. I looked down the trail and saw the glint of light again. We hurried forward and stopped when we realized what we’d been seeing was moonlight reflecting off of Hans O’Shea’s car. It was pulled to the side of the road, sitting like some abandoned ship.
“What the hell?” Tinkie started forward and I was hot on her heels. “Where is Hans? And where is Cece?”
Good questions without answers. “Look in the car.”
She tugged on the door handle, and the ding, ding, ding from the open door sounded loudly. I reached in and removed the key from the ignition, careful not to touch anything else. The car quieted. That’s when I realized the interior was blotted in blood. It was mostly contained in the passenger seat. There had been no evidence of foul play in Cece’s Prius when I’d examined it at the sheriff’s office. Someone had been injured, though. This car was a definite crime scene. Blood had collected around the console.
I didn’t have to tell Tinkie to call Sheriff Glory. She was already on it. “Glory, please hurry. Someone’s been hurt and we don’t know where they are. And call an ambulance. We’re going to need it.”
* * *
I searched the car as thoroughly as I could in the pale overhead light. The most important thing was not to mess up any evidence. Tinkie was shifting from foot to foot. She really had to go to the bathroom.
“I’ll walk you back to the office area,” I said.
“No, I’m good. While I’m gone, search around here for Cece. I’ll be right back. And I do have the gun.”
I hesitated. This sounded like a bad idea. “Can’t you just squat in the woods?”
Tinkie put her hands on her hips. “I may be pregnant and getting fat, but I am not going to cop a squat in the woods.”
Tinkie was the Queen Bee of the Daddy’s Girls, and I was the tomboy who’d gone on camping trips and horseback rides where toilets didn’t exist. “Okay. Hurry. Maybe Reynolds is home by now and he can help us look.”
I watched her disappear in the shadows along the path. It was a direct shot down the trail where Hans’s car was parked and back to the office, if my calculations were correct. We weren’t far, and this way Tinkie wouldn’t have to cross the marshy wetlands.
I left the car and moved to the edge of the woods, searching for evidence that Cece had gone that way, or that a body had been dragged. Hans was a tall, solid man. Whoever had moved him had to be pretty strong. Cece was slender, but she was also tall and well-muscled. I thought I could rule out a woman as the prime suspect, which narrowed the field of suspects, but not in any way that really helped me. Who would want to frame Erik and kill people involved in his dance past?
The logical answer would be a jilted lover or another dance partner—or a competitor. That was an angle we hadn’t explored. When I got back to my laptop, I’d look up the most recent winners in the cruise line competition and share the list with Sheriff Glory. Right now, though, Cece was on my mind.
I started a methodical grid search of the woods, moving away from the car. The terrain was filled with hardwoods and pines, shrubs and brambles, and deadfall that could be a real ankle breaker. I found an area of disturbed vegetation and pine straw raked into a lump, as if someone had pulled something through the area. Like maybe the heels of an unconscious woman.
I tried not to use the flashlight, but I had to. The woods had grown deeper and the thick trees blocked out even the minimal moonlight. It was as if I’d entered a room without windows or doors. I kept slowly working my grid, but my hopes were drying up. The land had begun to slope downhill, and I worried that soon I’d be in another situation with natural springs, boggy ground, and snakes. My foot hung in a tangle of limbs and I almost went sprawling. When my cell phone rang, I answered it with a degree of relief.
“You have to get up here, Sarah Booth.”
It was Tinkie. “What’s up?”
“I found Brutus. I think he’s been drugged.”
“Is there any sign of Daniel and his wife?”
“The house is locked—I’ve already tried the doors. Their car is in the garage. I’m worried.”
“I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Just stay put.” The crackle of a branch about twenty yards away made the hair on my neck stand on end.
“Hurry, Sarah Booth. I think I heard someone in the woods behind their house.”
“You have a gun. Use it.”
“What if it’s just Cosmo poking around?”
“Try not to kill him, but don’t take a risk, Tinkie. Shoot him in the leg or something. We don’t know his involvement in this.”
The rustling in the darkness seemed to have moved closer. “I’m on the way.” I began to back out of the woods. If I could get to the trail without breaking my neck, I had the keys to Hans’s car in my pocket. I could drive back to the office where Tinkie waited. And I would run over anyone who tried to get between me and my friend.
The sound of movement in the underbrush came from the darkness.
I froze in place. I wanted to call out to see if Cece would answer, but hesitated. I listened for a long moment. “Cece?” I called into the night.
The woods were completely silent. Not even the sawing cry of a cicada or the hoot of a barn owl. Only silence.
I edged back toward the trail, moving slowly and deliberately. I had to find Cece, but I couldn’t risk falling for a trick. Cece, Tinkie, and I would all be lost if I jumped into the middle of a trap.
Feeling the ground with my foot before I put weight down, I was almost to the road when something crashed through the woods toward me. Pulling the car keys from my pocket, I ran to Hans’s car, jumped in, hit the lock, and turned the ignition. I did my best to avoid disturbing the blood that was mostly centered on the passenger side and console. To my ultimate relief, the car started. I had visions of chain saws in the woods, a stalled car, and old leather face coming after me. Slamming the Lexus in reverse, I hit the gas and backed down the trail.
In the glare of the headlights, I saw something run across the road. It was hunched over. I couldn’t be certain if it was man or beast, but it moved with preternatural quickness. What if our killer wasn’t even human?
That thought, as ridiculous as it was, put my heart into overdrive. I’d already made a fool of myself once for thinking a robotic machine fitted up to resemble a dead woman was a zombie. I’d actually shot it in the head. Now I had to “man up” and not allow fear to rule me. As I made my way, driving in reverse along the trail, I calmed. Supernatural killers didn’t use poison. They used fangs and nails or hollow teeth. Whatever I’d
seen, it was human or animal. And it possibly had been Cece and Hans in the woods with it.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered under my breath as I found a place to turn around. I didn’t hesitate to floor the gas pedal. Careening down the trail, I drove to the main office of the gardens where Tinkie and a wobbling Brutus stood waiting for me under a “booger light” that had drawn a swarm of moths and insects.
* * *
I gave Brutus a quick check over. He seemed fine, just a bit lethargic. The pup didn’t object when I tried to force the door to the Reynoldses’ house. I didn’t like the idea of breaking in, but I did it anyway. Tinkie was right on my heels, gun out and ready to blow a hole in anyone who threatened us.
“Glory is on her way,” Tinkie whispered as we searched the house, room by room. At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. A slight thumping came from there. I signaled to Tinkie that I would push the door open and if anyone came at us, she should shoot them. She nodded.
The thudding came again. Soft and muted.
“What the hell?” Tinkie asked.
I shook my head and put a finger to my lips as I turned the knob slowly and then threw the door wide with a quick motion. Tinkie stepped in front of me, gun at the ready. In the beam of my flashlight I saw Daniel Reynolds and his wife tied back to back, sitting on the floor. They were gagged with what looked like socks. Daniel was thudding the floor with his heels.
“Damn.” Tinkie and I rushed to help them, removing the gags and their bonds. “Who did this?” I asked.
“Cosmo.” Daniel was hopping mad. “He came over and I told him the sheriff and everyone else was looking for him. He agreed to turn himself in, after a cup of tea. Paulette made the tea and, while we weren’t looking, he must have put something in it. We both got woozy and passed out and woke up like this.”
“Are you okay?” The knots weren’t that thoroughly tied and I had them both free in a matter of minutes. I helped Paulette to her feet. She was steaming mad.
The Devil's Bones Page 24