Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music (6 page)

The citizens of Silersville were quietly watching the two men's courtship. A few bets were placed by the men who congregated at the Okay Bar and Bait Shop. In fact, a chalkboard tally detailed where Blossom went, with whom. Only Blossom seemed unaware of the intense interest in her love life.

“Much obliged for showing me the way, Sheriff.” DuWayne's face glowed with pleasure as he viewed his latest challenge. “This shouldn't take too long at all.”

Tony got back into his chair and was just reaching for the keyboard when the first question came down the hall.

“Oh, Sheriff, can you show me where the shutoff valve is for your water?”

Tony was sure the little man knew its location, but he led the way into the cellar. He left the plumber bemoaning the poor location of the valve and headed back to his study.

Minutes later, he heard DuWayne's voice again. “Oh, Sheriff, I think you better come take a look at this.” DuWayne didn't sound happy. His tone made the muscles in Tony's shoulders tighten. He forced an expression he hoped displayed both intelligence and curiosity onto his face and trudged back down the hall.

DuWayne was frowning at something in the waterless tank. “This is just in awful shape. I'm surprised it has lasted this long. I can't imagine why a part like this was used in the first place. Do you have any idea when it was installed?” His expression appeared baleful and accusatory.

Feeling a bit guilty for taking the smile from DuWayne's face, Tony looked where he was pointing. The thing was nondescript, looked a bit rusty, and was totally out of Tony's realm. “Since I don't even know what it is or what it does, I'm sure that I couldn't say, but you know this house has been overhauled a lot in the last hundred or so years. I'm sure it hasn't always had professionals working on it.”

“That's right. This is the oldest house in town, isn't it?” DuWayne looked somewhat mollified, evidently satisfied the Abernathy family had not set out to intentionally destroy the plumbing, thereby causing grief and hardship for the plumbing industry in general and misery for him specifically.

“The oldest brick house,” Tony corrected him. According to the town's historians, the original homes had been log homes. Over time, they had been replaced by more sophisticated wooden ones and finally brick.

DuWayne settled his skinny rear end on the edge of the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “Which one came next?”

Alarmed by the way DuWayne was settling in, Tony began backing away. “The house next door is the second oldest.” He checked his watch. “Oops, eleven-thirty. I better be getting on down to the station. You call Theo if you have any more questions and just lock up when you finish with whatever it is you are fixing.”

DuWayne looked crestfallen. It was the only way to describe the little man's expression. Tony felt like scum. He ran away, telling himself it was time to do some work. Maybe Wade was back.

Tony expected another call from Doc Nash which might include a definite decision about the cause of Mr. Beasley's death. Tony wasn't getting any younger and Beasley needed burying. But, according to a quick telephone message relayed by Nurse Foxx, it might be a long wait. The doctor was overrun with emergencies.

Tony set the receiver in its cradle when he heard the sound of a muffled sneeze behind him and turned to glance at his deputy. Wade's eyes had turned pink and watery. “You okay?”

“No.” Wade pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose with it. He didn't seem to notice it was decorated with lace and embroidered violets. “I'm allergic to cats.” The strangled voice did not resemble Wade's usual baritone. “I didn't realize she had so many.”

“Who?”

“Your favorite citizen, Portia Osgood.” Wade sneezed again. “Since you refuse to answer any calls from her house, I no more than got back here with Jake Lundy when I had to go over and listen to her litany of complaints about you, your aunt, your salary, which, by the way, she thinks should be no more than ten dollars a month, and all of her neighbors who are taking photographs of her to send to trashy magazines.” Wade waved the handkerchief in a parody of the old lady's favorite mannerism.

Letting the insults roll past him, Tony grinned at his hulking deputy. While not quite as tall as Tony, the former Marine was heavily muscled and had a face the angels must envy. Not pretty, but handsome enough to stop traffic. Tony did covet his hair—thick, dark and glossy as mink fur. The picture he presented with his pink rimmed eyes and the dainty hanky was just too much. “Go on back to the car or home or wherever you have to go to get rid of the sniffles.” Then he added in a laughter-tinged voice meant for only Wade to hear, “And get yourself a handkerchief with fewer frills. This one clashes with your uniform.”

Wade looked at the piece of cloth he had pressed against his face. “What
is
this?” He held it at arm's length and frowned.

“Been near Miss Flossie today?” Tony guessed. Miss Flossie Lewis was as gentle and genteel a soul as ever lived, but she did have her ways. She liked to take things, but she would always replace what she took with another item. If the person realized what had happened before Flossie traded it with another person's belongings, she was always amenable to a direct exchange. If she traded it away, she wouldn't have any idea what had happened or even whom she had been near. Sunday dinner at the River View Motel Coffee Shop was the unofficial place and time to make the appropriate trades.

“I carried her groceries into her kitchen this morning.” Wade lightly touched the embroidered violets with his fingertip as if making sure they wouldn't break. “I'll wash this before Sunday.” Cautiously he lowered his hand and patted his holstered gun before exhaling a sigh of relief. “I'll just wait in the car for you.” His own handkerchief was in his pocket. As he walked away, sneezing and checking his handcuffs, his pockets, and the tools of his trade, he was mumbling, “I wonder what she took from me?”

By the time Tony got home, Theo had been there for a couple of hours. The boys had walked to the shop, and Gretchen drove them all to the house on her way home. Theo watched, from her spot in the kitchen, as her husband stopped just inside the front door and stood as if he was absorbing being there. Tony looked beat.

The house was filled with pleasant sounds. Behind her, Chris was giving his brother advice as Jamie played some computer game. Theo enjoyed the sounds of the game itself. It had a bright little tune. Daisy dashed up to greet him, and he rubbed the golden retriever's ears between his fingers and dodged her doggy kisses.

He looked up. “She smells like she's been playing in the creek.”

“She has.” Theo adjusted the frilly pink apron his mom had given her. It contrasted with the worn sweatpants and the oversized red and gray flannel shirt she'd stolen from his closet, still saving her new clothes for work. She sat at the kitchen table working on her lists. The main list, along with the master calendar, was in the full-sized notebook recycled from college. Other lists of varying sizes were written on an assortment of colored sticky notes.

“What's all this?” Tony leaned over her shoulder and picked up a sticky note designed to look like a miniature yellow legal pad. “I doubt the Allies preparing for the Normandy invasion required this much paperwork.”

“That's because all they had to contend with was the weather and the Nazis, whereas I will have some strong personalities under the same roof all weekend long.”

“Nobody says whereas.” Tony kissed the back of her neck. “You could always stay here with me.”

“No, I'm an adult. I can do this.” She reached around him and tugged at the snap holding the handcuffs on his belt. “But just in case, do you have a couple of extra pairs that I could borrow?”

“Just use the old whip and chair trick. If it works on lions and tigers, it should work on a couple of middle-aged women.”

“Hah! Wild animals are wimps compared to these women.” She stood up and gave him a kiss. “Why don't you go and change and I'll get dinner finished. Then you can give me all of the details.”

Tony nodded and left the room.

A minute later she heard the sound of him locking his gun in the safe. She put her lists away and set the table.

Tony barely sat down to eat when his cell phone rang. A glance at the screen sent him into the hall, away from the dinner commotion. A call from Doc Nash at this hour could not be a good thing.

“Tony, we've got a real problem.” The doctor cleared his throat. “Weevil Beasley died from an overdose of medications.”

“Tell me it was an accident.”

“Nope. I'm afraid Mr. Beasley was in complete control of his mental faculties. In short, he knew how and when to take his medications.”

“So we're left with . . .” Tony's words slowed to a stop.

“Yep, homicide or suicide.” The doctor cleared his throat. “I don't suppose you found a note of any kind?”

“No. There was an unpleasant phone message from someone hoping he'd die.”

“Weevil was never interested in being popular.” The doctor sighed. “I'm afraid I need more information before I can finish the death certificate.”

Tony headed for his antacid stash. It wasn't what he wanted for dinner. “Was Weevil his real name?”

“Yep. I'd guess it was part of the reason he was such a cranky old soul. How'd you like to be named for a bad bug?”

As he disconnected the call, Tony thought his being named Marc Antony for an ancient Roman sounded just dandy. As he climbed the stairs to put his uniform back on, he called dispatch and asked for Wade, Mike, and Sheila to meet him at Mr. Beasley's house. Maybe the four of them could find the truth.

Theo handed him a sandwich as he left the house.

By the time he reached the Beasley house, he'd eaten half of the sandwich. He finished the rest, standing in the tidy front yard, staring at the house. It was a red brick rectangle. The narrow end faced the street. Three steps led up to a white front door. A row of small windows ran across the top of the door. Larger windows, covered with mini-blinds, flanked the door.

The door they'd used before was actually a side door opening into a utility area. He knew that next came the kitchen, dining room and living room. The other side of the house contained two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a closet-sized library. Upstairs a single room ran the length of the house.

A detached garage sat back from the street. Ruts worn into the grass made up the driveway.

When his deputies arrived, he sighed heavily. “Sheila and

Mike, I want you to talk to the neighbors. Wade, grab your fingerprint case. I'll get the camera.”

He didn't expect to find much, and they didn't. When they gathered around Mr. Beasley's table, Tony flipped through his notes. “Anyone find anything?”

“I did learn,” Sheila began, “that he argued publicly with some of his relatives after his wife died last year. Nothing specific.”

“What did the neighbors think of him?” Tony thought of Orvan's complaints.

Mike said, “He was crusty and cranky but not too bad. He didn't mind if kids used his yard for football games. Not Mr. Sunshine, but an okay guy.”

“Wade?” Tony knew it would take fair amount of time and energy for Wade to identify the fingerprints.

“Oddly, not much to do.” He twirled his best brush. “I found some smudges on the pill bottles. None on the glasses. The dishwasher was filled with clean dishes. There were smudges on the television remote and nothing else but a few partials. I'd say Blossom is a good housekeeper.”

“Where's Dad?” said Jamie at breakfast. He sat at the opposite end of the table from Chris. Theo poured milk on Chris's cereal and headed for Jamie's bowl.

“You remember he got called out last night? He got home late, so try to hold down the noise when you go back upstairs, okay?”

“Okay.” Daisy sat next to Chris staring at him as he shoved a spoonful of cereal in on top of the one already in his mouth. The big dog didn't blink. “You leave today?” Milk seeped between his lips and dripped back into the bowl.

“Don't talk with food in your mouth. And the answer is yes.” Theo sipped her coffee. “I'll leave about noon, so after school just walk to the shop. Miss Edith will pick you up, and she'll come over in case your Dad gets called out in the night.”

“Dad's cooking, isn't he?” Jamie blew bubbles in his orange juice.

Theo took the glass from him and set it on the table. “You know he is. We talked about it the other day.”

“Well, you know, Mom,” Chris started, then swallowed before continuing, “it's good Dad can cook 'cause Miss Edith is the worst cook in town.”

Jamie joined in. “Maybe in the whole world.”

Theo smiled. “Then I suggest you encourage your dad's efforts. Edith might have to cook if you hurt his feelings.” She stood and checked a newspaper clipping attached to the refrigerator with a magnet cleverly disguised as a butterfly made from a magazine page. “Hot lunch today is tuna salad with crackers, broccoli casserole, black eyed peas and a cake square.”

“What kind of cake?” Jamie looked interested.

“It doesn't matter,” said Chris. “It's not worth eating if you have to look at their broccoli casserole. It's totally gross.” He made a melodramatic gagging sound until Theo glared at him. “I'm taking my lunch.”

“Me too. Can I fix my own, Mom?”

“Sure.” Theo handed Jamie a brown paper lunch bag. “Just remember to put in something more nutritious than chips and crackers. I'll be checking.”

Chris jumped to his feet. “I'm first in the shower.” As soon as he was out of the chair, Daisy began mopping up the milk and cereal with her tongue.

“He'll hog all the hot water, Mom.” Jamie starting moaning as he dried the apple Theo washed and handed to him.

“Go ahead, Chris, and leave some hot water.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Tony still wasn't up by the time both boys were showered, dressed and ready for school. The boys groaned out of habit when Theo posted their lists of chores to take care of until she got home Sunday afternoon. “Both of you check Daisy's water bowl several times a day and make sure she isn't running low. Last time when I got home from a trip, her bowl was almost dry.” She gave them her best stern mother look and then gave them big hugs and kisses. “I'll see you Sunday.”