Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (6 page)

“Yes. Quentin and Roscoe invited me to drive up the mountain after work the other day. The cannon was quite impressive, but when it comes to the vegetable weapons I prefer Roscoe's trebuchet.” Gus shifted his ball cap and lowered his voice. “I think it actually belongs to Roscoe's lady friend.”

“A trebuchet? I heard the rumors.” Pausing in mid-step, Tony glanced over his shoulder. “And there's a real live lady friend? A woman? Not a bear or a vending machine?”

“You haven't met her?” Gus grinned like he'd won the lottery. “Wow! What are the odds of my meeting her before you?”

Too insanely curious to waste time in a verbal sparring session, Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Tell me.”

“She's a professor at the university. Something to do with European history, and she is wildly enthusiastic about medieval weaponry and armor and our Roscoe.” Gus leaned close. “Do you suppose he's told her about holding the county record for spending the most years in our middle school?”

The concept of their educational differences rendered Tony speechless. He couldn't wait to meet the woman. Even more thrilling was being able to scoop Theo with yet another bit of information she hadn't gleaned down at gossip central. When he could talk again, he said, “Mom tells me Berry and Callie are both coming.” It was the closest thing he had to a news bulletin.

“Tiberius is leaving his patients unattended?” Gus glanced at the sky as if expecting it to fall. “Who is saving the world from cavities and overbites?”

Tony considered Gus's surprise understandable. Their brother the dentist often used his work as an excuse to let his brothers deal with their mother. Their sister, Calpurnia, on the other hand, was frequently victimized. Callie didn't have enough sense or, more likely, wasn't mean enough to refuse to participate in one of Jane's plans. One woman's dream trip was the other's nightmare. Tony thought he, Gus, and Berry should scrape together enough money to send Callie to a spa, far from any body of water, all expenses paid. After the nightmare cruise several months earlier during which she'd suffered seven days of being seasick, Callie deserved a treat. The only thing they lacked was the money to do it.

Stepping away from Gus, Tony walked over to Quentin. Tall, twitchy, and skeletally thin, Quentin listened to Tony's concerns about the early morning cannon practice, his head bobbing in agreement.

Tony said, “I haven't seen it, but look forward to it and I am impressed by the sound it makes. Unfortunately, the loud booms have been disturbing a fair number of people.”

“I didn't know it were a bother as I live so far out.” Quentin was contrite. “I'll not shoot it before I come down to work.”

“Thank you, Quentin. Even though you live far from town, I'm sure the mountains make the sound travel oddly, creating the problem. It might be a good idea not to shoot it after eight at night either.” Tony had no authority to request it, but hoped Quentin would agree.

Quentin nodded vigorously and turned, motioning for Roscoe to join them. Roscoe's homely face paled and he dragged his feet as he came toward Quentin, his friend and the owner of the land where he lived in a battered camper trailer. When Roscoe got near, Tony heard Quentin say, “Don't worry. It ain't about Baby.”

“Sheriff?” Roscoe's voice was a mere whisper. “Do you know where Baby is?”

“No.” Tony hadn't heard anything about the bear in months. “Is she still hibernating?”

“She's gone away from her sleep spot.” Roscoe's eyes began to water and he wiped his dripping nose with the back of hand. “I ain't seen her since last week. She's never been gone like this. Maybe a day, but not more. I filled her bowl with fresh water and put an apple next to it. Baby ain't touched it, ‘n’ she loves apples.” He cleaned his hand on the seat of his jeans. “I thought maybe you heard somethin'.”

Tony had no information. “Since you can't legally keep the bear and she's not your property, I'm not sure I can send out a search party for her.” Tony couldn't help but sympathize with the man. After game warden Harrison Ragsdale had expressed plans to euthanize the cub, Roscoe had saved it from certain death and raised it mostly in the wild. Having weighed the issues, including the fact keeping the bear was illegal, Tony decided to turn a blind eye. Baby lived outside and came and went at will. She was not caged or tethered. Tony understood Roscoe's concern about the young bear. There were more dangerous things in the woods than bears and wild hogs. People.

Theo glanced up to see two of her favorite younger quilters, Melissa and Susan, coming through the front door. They were both married to executives at the fertilizer plant and had taken her beginning quilting class soon after moving to town. They were now true quilting and fabric addicts. Good people and good for her business.

Melissa, a pleasant looking brunette and the older of the two friends, had a couple of boys in middle school. They kept her busy with sports events, class projects and, she claimed, industrial level grocery shopping and cooking. She often laughed about how much food boys that age could eat and encouraged Theo to start making regular deposits into a special account, saving for the day Chris and Jamie turned into eating machines. Theo always joined in the merriment, even though she knew it was not a joke.

The other one, Susan, was not quite thirty. Exceptionally tall for a woman, she stood over six feet. The California native had gone to college in Virginia on a basketball scholarship and never returned to her home state except for occasional visits. Her features were slightly sharp and marred somewhat by the unevenness of her nose, which had obviously been broken in several places. Her hair was a drab light brown and usually held back from her face with a big clip. Susan was a lot of fun and had a wicked sense of humor, which probably kept her sane because she had three children. The youngest, a little girl, was just over a year old and a very determined child. She wanted to walk wherever her brothers did. The younger of the brothers was four and a half. It was the oldest child who had the most interesting history.

Theo remembered the night at the Bowling League meeting when Susan told the quilters that her husband had a son before they married he hadn't told her about. To be fair to the man, he was unaware the boy named Zach existed until one day when the boy was about three years old. Susan was pregnant at the time and stunned when her husband brought home Zach, whom he had received, delivered like a package, at his old office. An envelope and a note from his birth mother were pinned to his jacket. Essentially it handed all rights and responsibility to Susan's husband, John. No exchanges, no returns.

The family had struggled for a while to incorporate Zach into their lives about the same time they dealt with the birth of Nicholas. They succeeded. Now Susan was Zach's “mom” and Zach was a handsome, sweet boy who was in Jamie's class at school and played on his baseball team.

At the end of the day, and on his way to do his workout, Tony stopped by the jail. This half of the law enforcement center was comprised of several types of cells. Men and women were separate, of course, but there were also accommodations for youthful offenders and exceptionally violent or suicidal prisoners. A large portion of the population was addicted to illegal drugs or medication, which added another dimension to the job.

If he had to house Slow Jr. in his jail, Tony wondered where the man would fit. He was not a juvenile. He wasn't a hard case. Tony wasn't a doctor, but he guessed insanity wasn't the issue. As the man's name indicated, he was just slow.

Running on the treadmill, Tony tried to push away his depressing thoughts. He heard the door open and smiled when he saw Wade trudge inside. If anything, his deputy looked worse than he felt himself, which, given Wade's good looks, took some effort. “What happened to you?”

Wade shook his head, remaining silent. He stepped onto the other treadmill and started his warm up. Tony left him alone. Sometimes he'd felt the same way after dealing with the things people did to themselves and others.

After about fifteen minutes, Wade broke his silence. “I thought about shooting someone today.”

Tony nodded. He'd guessed it was something like this. Similar temptations had come to him over the years. “Anyone I know?”

Instead of answering the question, Wade said, “You mean you've actually thought about handing out punishment without going through the legal system? I always think of you as being better than me.” Wade's troubled expression darkened his blue eyes to black. The skin over his cheekbones stretched tighter than normal, emphasizing their contours.

“I'm not better than anyone.” Tony remembered wanting to dispose of Possum Calhoun and a few others, specifically people who abused the innocent. Right now the Farquhar clan was on top of the list of residents he'd like to be rid of. “There have been several times both here and back in Chicago when I've been tempted to show someone what it's like to be on the receiving end of abuse. Don't act on it. That would only lower you to their level.”

Wade nodded. “I wanted him to throw a punch at me.” As if unaware of his actions, his hands flexed wide before balling into tight fists. “So help me, Sheriff, if he so much as touched me with his little finger I'd have decked him first and then cuffed him.”

“For assaulting a police officer?” Tony sympathized. Every time he thought he'd seen or heard the worst people could find to do to their “loved ones,” someone managed to surprise him. Where did such depravity come from? he wondered. “I'm guessing someone is tormenting a child or a spouse.” Wade didn't disagree, and Tony felt the all-too-familiar frustration and anger surge through him. “You have the authority to place children in protective custody.”

Wade finally spoke. “Thankfully, it was not a child. I never wanted to learn about the darker side of some of our, so-called, fine, upstanding citizens. Until today, seeing it for myself, I wouldn't have believed someone else if they told me whose secret life is so vicious.” He increased the speed on the treadmill. And ran. His silence broken only by his feet pounding on the belt and his labored breathing.

Tony finished his workout. As he turned to leave he said, “Go home. Kiss your wife. Don't watch the news. It will only depress you more.” He hoped he could follow his own advice. He was in no hurry to find out who'd done what. He'd read Wade's report in the morning. “I'd hate to have to arrest one of my deputies.”

After dinner, Theo dug through the overflowing basket of recently washed laundry sitting on the kitchen table. “All these tiny socks and none of them match.” She stacked about ten mateless socks in a pile. “Is the washing machine flushing them into the sewer?”

Not being particularly helpful, Tony inserted his thumb into a sock. It fit perfectly. “I suppose it could. I know it's chugged out chunks of mud bigger than this.” He put a sock on each finger and waggled them in Theo's face. He grinned. “Puppets.”

Theo rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. She pointed to the mass of clean infant clothes. “Fold.”

Fingers still covered, he did. Little socks decorated with elephants, daisies, even camouflage, danced as he folded shirts and onesies and stacked them in neat piles. “Blossom's love life is getting noticed. She's receiving anonymous letters of disapproval.”

“Poor Blossom.” Theo smoothed wrinkles from a yellow towel decorated with pink bunnies. “She's not hurting anyone. I wish people would let her have some time to work out her personal life.”

“If it were up to you, would you prefer Kenny or DuWayne?”

“Neither.” Theo winked at him. “And she can't have you.”

Tony studied the reports on his desk. Burglary wasn't an unusual crime in Park County. Money was tight and a fair number of the older generation had never gotten into the habit of locking their doors. If they didn't lock them at night, they sure weren't going to do it when they ran to the store. His department received calls about stolen televisions, stolen computers, radios, some jewelry whose owner wasn't sure if it was stolen or just lost, and, not too long ago, a stolen sheep. The sheep was the easiest case to solve. The bright mind behind the theft put a collar on it and staked it out in his own yard, never thinking the owner could identify it. “They all look the same to me,” was not a defense, at least not an effective one.

Claude Marmot filed a complaint about someone littering at the dump. A sticky note attached to the front of the report was written in Sheila's clearly legible handwriting. “Can you litter at a dump?”

This list of recent burglaries was disturbing. Several newer homes, ones with good locks and garage doors with coded entries had been victimized. A couple of them had alarm systems that had gone off and alerted his office. Unfortunately, even with the best of intentions, it took them long enough to reach the residences that the burglar or burglars had a chance to take a few expensive items and vanish. So far, Tony and his deputies had discovered nothing but a few small clues about these puzzling crimes.

Tony wasn't even certain if the stolen items were being sold, pawned out of town, or if they simply became part of the thieves' property. A stolen chain saw would take down a tree branch as easily as one that had been purchased. Jewelry, unless it was an extraordinary piece, could be worn in front of the former owner and might go unrecognized. No one could probably use six televisions but maybe the thief wanted to be able to watch six channels at the same time, or several thieves each got two.

He suspected either the Farquhar “darlin' boys” or one of the Lundys. Both families produced litters of dishonest children, male and female. They filled jail cells in most of the counties on the eastern end of the state and several had graduated to the state penitentiary in Nashville. Suspicion wasn't the same as proof. Still, his staff was doing the best they could to solve the problem.

Wade's report told an ugly story of an abusive husband who took great care to not strike his wife in the face. The photographs attached to the report showed massive bruises and contusions on every other part of her body. A footnote on the report listed her address as in care of the women's shelter. Tony suspected she had been moved out of the county by the volunteers led by Mike and Ruby Ott. There was not much hope of hiding someone anywhere in the county. He could only hope she'd participate in the group discussions and learn her husband did not have the right to use her for his punching bag. It usually took more than one rescue before a woman fought through the brainwashing and learned to live free.