“Enough. Kat, call Doc Billings, would you? We’ll need his professional opinion.” Bart’s firm tone was the pin needed to deflate Kat’s anger.
“What?” You gonna do an autopsy? I have at least five witnesses to the whole thing, man. We know what killed him—a two-ton boulder is sitting on his body. This isn’t rocket science, you know.”
Bart ignored the barb. “What was Gordy doing out here tonight?”
“Old Town opens tomorrow. Finishing touches.”
“Right.”
“Doc’s on his way.” Kat stuck her phone back in a pocket and glared at Orthell. Orthell held her gaze, then broke and focused on Bart.
“I’m sure Doc Billings will hurry the autopsy along. You’ll be back on track in no time.” He snapped the notebook closed and whipped around to face Kat. “Call Amos Thralling, will you? See if he or his brother has a piece of equipment that’ll get this thing off Gordy.”
Kat looked at her watch. Four o’clock. She let out a frustrated sigh, grabbed her phone and dialed. Her ability to memorize phone numbers made it unnecessary to use speed dial.
“It’s ringing. Hey Amos … no, no, this is Kat. Yes, I know it’s four in the morning. No, I’m not drunk. Listen. Please. We have a bad situation and need your help.” Kat rushed through a small summary and what they needed, and then went silent, phone to her ear.
“Thanks, Amos.” She turned to Bart. “He doesn’t have anything … but, he knows someone.”
“Great. The whole town’s gonna know before seven,” the mayor’s voice reminded Kat of a bleating sheep. “A death on the property is not the way I wanted to introduce Old Town! Call him back; tell him to keep his trap shut.”
Kat pushed her phone into the mayor’s hand. “Be my guest.”
The mayor’s eyes shot daggers in her direction. He hit redial. A begrudging, “thanks,” escaped his lips as he pushed the phone back at Kat.
“Welcome.” Artificial warmth laced her sing-song tone.
He turned to Bart. “Get this taken care of—by tomorrow afternoon. We have a ceremony to hold and it will go on. My investor is counting on it!” Orthell whirled and walked off into the darkness.
“You think Amos’ll keep his mouth closed?”
“Does water flow uphill?”
“Not last time I checked. The mayor is going to be one mad papa bear.”
Studded tires grabbing ice announced Doc Billings’ arrival. He eased out of his Audi, reached in and grabbed his old-fashioned doctor’s bag and made his way toward Old Town’s courtyard.
Billings walked to the boulder. “How am I going to do an initial review?”
“One of the Thralling brothers is rounding up some equipment.”
Billings circled the body, careful to avoid the blood. “Seems pretty cut and dried, Bart.”
“Yeah, I know, Doc. But, procedure is procedure. While you’re confirming a huge rock killed him, I’ll be looking to find out what caused the boom to let loose that way. Then we can close this as a tragic accident.”
Doc shook his head from side to side. “Sorry shame. Gordy was a decent sort. Always there with a helping hand. Sorry, sorry shame.”
“Where’s the hearse, Doc?”
“I’ll call the boys at the funeral home when we can move him. No need for them to be standing around in this cold.”
The unmistakable whine of a large diesel engine echoed off the buildings of Old Town. The sound grew deafening as a rusty loader crawled closer. Arnie Thralling maneuvered the machine to the right of two rough-cut birch columns. The birch arms reached upward and held an equally rough-hewn birch board. The words Welcome to Old Town—Where Time Stands Still were carved into the wood, then scorched to a deep brown.
The ground vibrated as the loader pulled within three feet of the boulder. Arnie jumped down and jogged to the small group.
Bart handed Doc his phone. “Call the boys. The cavalry has arrived.”
“Glad to see you, Arnie.” Kat peeked around Arnie’s right shoulder. “No Amos?”
“Nope. I’m the one with the heavy equipment and I don’t let him drive it.”
“Can you get the boulder off without taking part of Gordy with it?”
Arnie took a few reluctant steps forward. Bart noted the telltale sign of green that heralds the onset of losing all the contents in one’s stomach. He grabbed Arnie by the elbow and led him to the woods.
“Too bad we don’t have a professional staff for this kind of stuff. Arnie’s gonna have nightmares for sure.”
Doc Billings’ concerned eyes met Kat’s emerald-green ones. “I’ll have him come by the office later today. See if he needs something to settle his nerves. Most likely, work will be the best treatment and he loves to work on those old boats.”
Bart and Arnie rejoined Kat and Doc. Green, with a blush of embarrassment, did nothing for Arnie’s long, thin face.
“Arnie’s agreed to let me work the loader. He’s going to wait in the truck.” Bart held out the keys and Arnie snatched them from Bart’s hand like a kid grabbing the all-coveted brass ring at the carousel. He nodded to Kat, turned and walked out the entrance to Old Town.
“You sure you remember how, Bartster? Your construction gig was years, well decades, ago.”
“Like riding a bike, cuz.” He sounded none too convincing. Bart looked at the loader, then the boulder and back to the loader.
“No time like the present, cuz?” Kat snapped back.
Bart nodded, marched to the loader and jumped in. As it lurched forward, Kat’s survival instinct kicked in and she took several steps away from the boulder. So did Doc Billings.
After a couple of rough beginnings, Bart bounced the cumbersome machine forward at a slow, steady pace. He stopped and inched the bucket lower until it was in line with the bottom of the massive stone. The hydraulics groaned as he wormed the bucket forward. After what felt like an eternity to Kat, the boulder was up and off Gordy Zimms and sat in the middle of a tarp that Arnie had had the foresight to lie out before his unexpected illness.
Bart sprang off the dozer and jogged over to Gordy’s body.
“That thing did a job,” Kat said.
Gordy’s stomach was too flat for a human being. The force of the rock had splintered a rib like a rotted stick. It poked through a rip in the shirt. His legs were untouched. If the rest of the body hadn’t been so disfigured, Kat would have expected Gordy to jump up and say, “Gotcha!” with a big grin. But, the blood trickling from his mouth shouted that this was no joke.
“Bart!”
“What?” Kat was pointing to Gordy’s face. It was a deep purple, almost bruised.
“Yeah, he’s black and blue. I’d expect that.”
Kat shook her index finger in the direction of the eyes.
Bart walked to the head and bent down for a closer look. His body blocked any light from the giant floods. Bart released the flashlight for his belt and clicked it on. There were no eyes. A dark and light liquid ran from the empty orbs. He turned a stricken and sick-looking face to Kat.
Doc had joined them, holding Bart’s phone in midair to return it, then dropped it to his side. He studied Gordy’s face in the blue light. “I don’t like the looks of that one bit.” He walked around Gordy to get a better look.
“Only saw this during the siege.” Doc turned to Bart. “I won’t know for sure until I have him in better light. I’ll call you as soon as I can get a good look in the sockets.” Doc bit his lip and contemplated Gordy’s fluid filled orbs. “Maybe there’s a scientific explanation. The force of the crush may have caused his eyes to dislodge and allow brain matter through.”
“You don’t sound too convincing.”
“I’m not convinced. I’m hoping. I’ll let you know if I find those pinpricks.”
“I pray you don’t, Doc.”
Kat’s anxiety reached boiling and she couldn’t stand silent and listen anymore. “How could he be back? He was locked in the ravine. His curse was broken because he
didn’t get a fifth victim. How?” Kat’s nightmares came crushing in on her until she felt she couldn’t breathe. Tears sprang into her emerald eyes and she turned toward the darkness of the woods to hide the emotions from Bart and Doc.
“Don’t know, but if this is what it looks like, we’re in for the fight of our lives–again.”
“Iconoclast.”
“As I said, it could be a result of the accident. Don’t want to jump to that conclusion, at least not yet.”
Bart shook his head and sighed. “I have to locate Gordy’s next of kin. I hate this part of the job.”
Kat hastily brushed the tears from her eyes. She turned, placed a hand on Bart’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Bart smiled down at his favorite cousin. “And I need you to get to the office.”
“Now?” Kat released his arm.
“Yes, now. Not like you have anything else to do. You got a hot date with your feline?”
“No. But we’ve been here since midnight and I was hoping for something that might pass as sleep before the grand opening.” Kat shot Bart a guarded look.
“I don’t know how that opening’s gonna happen today. But to even have a chance to appease my boss,” the distaste was evident at the title, “I need you get the incident report typed up and call the troopers as soon as they open to get them out here to look at that excavator. Seems real odd that the boom just broke that way.”
“Okay, I give. The office it is.”
The hearse pulled up the curb outside the Old Town sign. Two attendants headed for the back of the vehicle, grabbed a long, white board and hurried to Doctor Billings.
“Thanks for making it fast.”
“Anything for you, doc,” Eric Smotherly said. His brother Jonas nodded in agreement. Doc Billings had gotten their dad through a bout of pneumonia that, they felt, would have killed him if Doc hadn’t been there.
“How old are these guys?” Kat whispered to Bart.
“Early twenties.”
“You sure? They look like they’re fifteen if a day. And, they’re skinny as rails. How are they gonna lift Gordy? He must outweigh them both put together by at least 100 pounds.”
The zip of the body bag echoed against the buildings of Old Town, amplifying the finality of the sound. Kat watched in amazement as the thin young men lifted the late Gordy Zimms with the ease of a twenty-pound bag of flour. Eric and Jonas Smotherly shuffled in a united step to the back of the hearse, managing to avoid falling on the ice that covered most of Old Town’s courtyard.
“I’ll call you when I’ve got the report.” Doc Billings waved over his shoulder as he, too, shuffled into the night.
An uneasy quiet replaced the hubbub of the hours before. Kat looked at the Old Town buildings, black shadows outlined by the silver light of the wintry moon and stars. The ghostly contours gave the buildings an unwelcoming feel. Kat shivered and turned to watch her cousin return from a last investigation of the scene.
“What’s in your hand?”
Bart stood in front of Kat and kept his hand closed tight.
“Bart?”
“Probably nothing.”
Kat planted her feet in front of Bart. “Then why don’t you let me see?”
Bart hesitated then opened his hand. A small arrowhead came into view.
“There’s hundreds of those around here,” Kat said.
The dismay in Bart’s eyes made her lean in and take a good look at the stone. Something was etched into its surface.
You belong to my Master, Katrina Tovslosky. Pet
Kat’s eyes shot to Bart’s, the terror forcing tears to brim over her eyes and fall down her cheeks.
Bart grabbed Kat and pulled her to him. “It’s a sick, sick joke, Kat. I’ll find the crazy son of a dog that did this. You can take that to the bank.” Kat’s sobs became uncontrollable and Bart stood helpless, waiting for them to subside. After what felt like an eternity, Kat calmed.
“I’ve had dreams,” she whispered into Bart’s chest.
“I have, too. Who wouldn’t after the ordeal we went through?” He pushed Kat back and looked deep into her eyes. “We watched them go back into the ravine and it closed. Pet, Iconoclast, and his demon commanders are back in hell.”
Kat searched Bart’s eyes and saw the conviction that matched his words. She drew her shoulders up and back, letting out a deep sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go find that creep.”
Bart gave her one last squeeze and they trudged into the darkness toward the truck. Neither of them saw the small, hooved creature that had been watching their every move. It galloped off into the woods, taking the news of the battle’s beginning to Pet.
Kat unlocked the door to the storefront on Main Street that housed the police station. She flicked the switch. The hum of the fluorescents broke the silence. The musty smell of old paper and baseboard heat greeted her nose. Bart came in behind her, stomped his feet, and closed the door to the cold February morning.
“I’ll find the number for Gordy’s next-of-kin. You get to the report.” Bart handed her his notebook and continued toward his office.
The clock on the wall read six-thirty. Still too early to get a cup of coffee from Jo’s. Kat headed toward the break room–which doubled as the interrogation room in the rare instances that it was needed–and filled the old percolator with Folger’s. The phone started ringing before she made it back to the desk.
“Good morning. This is Kat, can I help you?”
“Is it true?”
Kat dropped into her chair. “Is what true, Wendy?”
“Is Gordy dead?”
Kat’s last bit of hope that news of this tragedy would not spread like wildfire throughout the town evaporated like smoke. “Yes.”
“How awful. How did it happen?”
“If you know he’s dead, Wendy, you know how.” Wendy loved a good drama and loved even more being the first one to spread fresh gossip.
“I want to make sure Arnie got it right.”
“Arnie was there. He got it right. Why were you talking to him anyway?”
“A certain large piece of equipment lumbered past my house this morning and scared me out of a dead sleep. When a loader rumbles down the streets of Ravens Cove in the early hours of a winter morning, it raises some questions. So, I jumped out of bed and peeked through the curtain and saw Arnie driving it. I gave him a call and he just called me back.”
Kat hoped to divert Wendy’s need to be in the middle of a drama. “Do me a favor, would you? I haven’t slept and need food. Would you go by Jo’s and bring me something? Bart wants this report done.”
“But what about the murder?”
“No one said it was murder. We’ll talk when you get here.” Kat hung up before Wendy could ask anymore questions.
“Things are heating up.”
Bart sighed in defeat. “Why would I even hope that this could have been kept quiet? This is going to make my life miserable.”
Bart punched the phone pad. “Tommy, we have a problem …”
The insistent ring of Kat’s desk phone drowned out the rest of Bart’s sentence.
“Good morning, Mrs. Tellamoot. Yes, Gordy has passed. No one said it was murder …” The old chime clanged over the door. Pastor Lucas came in followed by Grandma Bricken.
“I just heard the news. Has Gordy’s family been notified?”
“Bart’s working on that, Paul. He could use your help, though. Very hard for him to share such bad news. Go on in, you’ll make a bad day better.”
Grandma Bricken came around behind Kat’s chair. “You okay, dear one?”
Kat leaned back against her grandma. Alese Bricken wrapped her arms around Kat’s upper chest and squeezed. Kat relaxed.
“Better now. It’s horrible, Grandma.”
“Death always is, my sweet. For us. But, he’s in heaven now. For him, the battle is over and all is wonderful.”
“I wish I had your faith.”
“You do. Just don’t know i
t.” Grandma gave her another squeeze.
The door clanged again. Wendy whooshed in, bag in one hand, large cup of coffee in the other. “Danish and mocha.” She gave Grandma a quick kiss, then shot a large pixie grin to her best friend. “Got anything else you’d like me to do so I’ll quit asking questions?”
Kat’s face broke into a wide smile, the first it felt like in an eternity. “I’ll think of something, Winsome.” Kat grabbed for the bag. Wendy pulled it just out of reach.
“First, some news.”
“Blackmailer. There is no news–except that the Old Town ceremony is probably going to be postponed.”
“It sure is.” Bart had walked up unnoticed. He grabbed the bag from Wendy and dropped it beside Kat.
“Just got off the phone with Tommy. He’s as mad as a cornered porcupine. But the grand opening is officially postponed until next week.” Bart’s tone was victorious.
“So, Winsome, I bet Mayor Orthell could use some help getting the word out. Town Hall is always asking for volunteers and they are really going to need it. That ceremony,” Kat looked at the clock that now read seven-thirty, “is supposed to start in less than five hours.”
Wendy’s eyes lit up like small flares. “On my way.”
“I’ll call Jenny and let her know you’re coming over.” The mayor’s assistant would be very grateful for any help—Orthell was probably on the warpath by now and she always got the brunt of it.
A closing door finished the conversation with Wendy.
“I’ll leave you to your work. Come over later, child, and I will feed you a decent meal. You need to keep your strength up.”
Phone at her ear, Kat smiled up at Alese Bricken. “Will do, Gram.” Kat dialed.
“Morning, Jenny. Just a heads-up. Wendy’s on her way to help with the cancellation of Old Town’s ceremony.”
Silence greeted Kat. “Jenny?”
“Sorry. I’m here. Wendy you say?” A rhythmic ticky-tap sounded in the background as Jenny continued to type furiously.
“You okay?”
“No. The mayor’s in a rage and the town council has called an emergency meeting to reschedule the ceremony. Ouch!”
“What’s going on?”
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