Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable (3 page)

Prosecutor Archie Campbell said, “I don't have a choice. Premeditation and use of a firearm.”

Carl Lee cleared his throat. Everyone looked at the public defender. “I'm advising my client to remain silent.”

Slow Jr. opened his mouth again, and his mother quickly placed her hand over it. “Hush, baby.” For the first time, he seemed to recognize he'd made a serious mistake. Tears flooded his eyes.

Tony thought if Slow Jr. had once thought it would be fun to rob a bank, he knew differently now.

Carl Lee Cashdollar stopped in Tony's office doorway. He stood there making an odd humming sound.

“What's up, Carl Lee? Is Archie having second thoughts about sending Slow Jr. home until his trial?” Tony smiled and leaned back in his chair. Carl Lee wasn't wearing his lawyer face. He looked unsettled, so Tony waved the defense attorney into his office “You all right?”

Carl Lee shook his head as he sat down facing Tony. “I'm not sure.”

Tony felt a jolt of curiosity mixed with concern.

Carl Lee said, “What do
you
do when you
know
someone has committed a crime and you don't have any proof?”

“I keep digging until the shovel breaks or until I have to work on something else. I don't mark the case closed.” Tony leaned forward. “What's happened?”

“Don't laugh.” Carl Lee's eyes flickered to the floor and up. “My wife's cat is missing, and I think Hairy Rags killed it and disposed of the body.”

Tony did not feel like laughing. He believed the lawyer's story and similar ones he'd heard over the past few months. The game warden, Harrison Ragsdale, had long had an unsavory reputation, but recently there had been an exceptionally high number of missing pets in Park County. “Tell me.” He reached for his notebook. In spite of more reports, they had not found more animal bodies than usual.

Carl Lee sighed heavily and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a photograph of a beautiful Siamese cat and handed it to Tony. “Two Bit.”

“Two Bit?” Tony did smile then. “Looks like a fifty-dollar cat to me.”

“When the previous owner gave it to my wife, he said the cat wasn't worth two bits. He was wrong.” Carl Lee paused. “My wife adores the cat, and I'm almost as fond of it as she is. A few weeks ago, Two Bit followed me outside as usual, while I was putting the trash can out for Claude. Anyway, it was dark and there's a lot of trees and shrubs blocking the view, and I saw Two Bit lunge into a shrub and knew she was after a bird, but the bird flew away and at the same time I heard a car engine rev up and the cat was gone, and I'd swear the car making the turn belonged to Ragsdale.”

“No cat body?”

“That's the only part I can't explain, but, we haven't seen her since.”

Tony was still thinking about the cat and the bank robbery and the oil truck when Sheila tapped on his door frame. He waved her in, hoping she wasn't bearing bad news. “What's up?”

“You know I'm involved in an after school homework program for kids with problems?” Sheila settled on the chair and relaxed.

Tony nodded, relieved that Sheila didn't look upset. His only female deputy was smart, efficient, and a pleasure to work with. She could also shoot the antennae off a June bug from some ridiculous distance, one where he'd be lucky to even see the insect.

“Alvin Tibbles is my student. He's trying to be a good kid but Alvin's mom is a frequent flyer in the jail.” Sheila paused. “Candy Tibbles is his mom.”

Tony saw Candy's name on arrest reports frequently. She had a long record—mostly for drunk and disorderly. “Is there a problem with Candy?” Tony thought the homework program was a good one. It connected kids on the brink with positive role models. “Or do you think Alvin would do better with a male mentor?”

“I don't think so. Alvin and I actually get along pretty well. I'd like to see him have emancipated status.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands together. “He's so old for his age he doesn't fit with any so-called normal family, but that's not why I'm here.”

Tony felt his eyebrows lift.

Sheila continued. “What I came to ask you is for your permission to take Alvin on a tour of the jail, let him see what it's really like, where his mom sleeps when she's here and that she's not abused. He's
her
caretaker and he worries.”

“Where does Alvin sleep when she overnights here?” Tony hoped it was some place safer than the backseat of an abandoned car.

“He's old enough to stay at home by himself, but I usually take him out to my folks' house.” Sheila smiled. “My mom dotes on him, and he likes Dad.”

“Bring him in any time. I'll escort both of you and he can ask me anything he wants.” Tony thought in the long run it might save two lives, Alvin's, and his mother's.

Theo made it up the stairs to her office without dropping anything. Success. She was elated. Not only was she feeling stronger every day—her recovery from the twins' births was taking longer than she'd expected—but she was getting the hang of juggling. She knew her ability to carry both girls together wouldn't last long. The babies were growing like weeds, and she'd better rest while she could. Once they started scooting around on their own, she probably wouldn't get to sit down again until they went to school.

Gretchen, her only full-time employee at the shop, charged up the stairs behind them and stopped at the top, a pen and small notebook clutched in one fist and the mail in the other. “Jane's already called eighteen times.” As if conjured by her announcement, the telephone on Theo's desk rang, and Gretchen trotted over to answer it. She claimed Theo had not arrived yet and would definitely give her the message. She disconnected. “Why is Jane calling the shop instead of your cell?”

Theo pulled her cell phone out of the diaper bag. “I turned this off.” She did not turn it on. “Jane's afraid she'll wake the babies so she won't call the house phone. What does she need?”

Gretchen shook her head. “She won't tell me. She just wants you to call her.”

Theo was torn. The twins were asleep, so she considered waiting until she'd gotten some work done on the can-can skirts and maybe even her new quilt pattern before returning Jane's call, but guilt won out. She dialed Jane's number. Her mother-in-law was a sweetheart, but disaster followed her and her sister Martha around like their shadows. Any guardian angel assigned to either of them was probably exhausted after one day. The two ladies were never without a plan for doing something bizarre. At least they had given up the idea of traveling around the state singing in bars, a scenario that had created many conversations and sleepless nights for Tony and his siblings.

“Oh, Theo dear, it's you.” Jane didn't give Theo a chance to say a word. “I really hope you are planning to be a part of the quilting demonstration at the Ramp Festival on Saturday?” Theo shook her head at the voice. Jane, not seeing the gesture, of course, charged ahead. “I know you are busy these days, but really, it would be so sweet if you'd come and help for a little while and teach something simple. We'll find someone to cover for you at the ticket table.”

Theo shook her head harder. She could feel her curls bounce and couldn't imagine her mother-in-law couldn't hear them. Four-month-old twins, plus two boys in elementary school, a shop to run, and a house and a husband sucked up every last second of each twenty-four-hour period. Wasn't working at the entrance table enough? Especially since she was sure her duty there would include dealing with people who didn't want to pay the fee. All that whining and complaining would wear down a saint. When would she have time to set up a demonstration? Where did Jane get these ideas?

“I really can't.” Theo tried shoving the words out of her throat. They eventually came out, but sounded like “all right, if you need me” even to her own ears. She was sunk. Jane was ecstatic. How could she retract her words now?

Theo stared at the window, her thoughts immediately turned to what kind of quilting project she could demonstrate. She certainly didn't want to use any of her good fabric, especially since whatever she took would stink by the end of the day and need immediate washing or throwing away.

Ramps were intensely smelly wild members of the onion and garlic family. Whatever possessed Jane and her sister Martha to celebrate the coming of spring at their folk museum by having a Ramp Festival? They planned food booths involving the odoriferous vegetables. Soups, pies, snacks, everything would contain ramps. Everything would smell vile. Theo imagined even the food not containing ramps—the hamburgers, hot dogs and desserts—would end up with a vaguely garlicky onion aftertaste. Guilt by association.

Wasn't having the food enough? No. Not for those ladies. There was to be music all day, everything from bluegrass to rock and roll. Once they came up with the initial idea, they couldn't seem to stop. A quilt show, of course, and now a demonstration featuring Theo. Other demonstrations planned involved weaving, dyeing yarn with roadside plants, and making birdhouses out of gourds. Rumors Theo had heard suggested the ladies planned games, storytellers, a horseshoe toss, pony rides and, for something even more exciting, a display of vegetables as projectiles. Earlier in the morning she hadn't connected Quentin's practice blasting potatoes through a cannon with the full event schedule. Now she recalled others planned to celebrate with more ancient forms of weapons to attack the designated target with vegetables, even a catapult.

Jane and Martha's minimally paid assistant and newlywed, Celeste, looked like she'd aged twenty years the last time Theo had seen her. As Celeste had hurried past, she'd murmured, “You did warn me. Help.”

The two women planned to import volunteer workers from all parts of their tiny county. The ladies fully intended to have as close to the total county population in attendance as they could. The senior citizens weren't immune to their recruiting plan either. Unable to outrun the sisters, seniors had been drafted as food server assistants; even the frail elderly like the Bainbridge sisters, Portia Osgood, and Caro, had been given jobs. Maybe they couldn't hoist a plate filled with a slab of pie, but they could hand out napkins and plastic cutlery. Poor blind Betty would probably be sitting in a corner telling stories to children or being the designated toothpick holder.

Theo moaned again. Trapped.

In the portable crib set up in the family corner of her office, Kara and Lizzie chortled and waved their hands and feet in the air. Pretty sad; it looked like even the infants thought their mother screwed up this time and were laughing about it.

It wasn't much past ten o'clock in the morning, and Tony felt ready to go home for the day. He hated the senselessness of traffic accidents. Slowing down by five miles an hour around Dead Man's Curve would not make a huge impact on anyone's timetable, certainly not near the delay being in an accident added.

He served his county's residents to the best of his ability. Today, he felt torn between the laws concerned with crimes involving guns and the sheer misfortune of Slow Jr. The man had committed a felony. He was competent to stand trial according to the rules. He knew right from wrong, the prosecution from the defense. He knew what the judge's role would be in a trial. Earlier, his office had been filled with a sense of impending doom. Nobody wanted to prosecute, yet they couldn't ignore the crime.

At least he'd finally managed to shower and change into a clean uniform. Maybe he could go to Ruby's Café and have a piece of Blossom's pie. Not only would it make him feel better because it would taste divine, but it would guarantee he put in his hour in the workout room in the basement of the law enforcement center. Sometimes he needed a little extra incentive to make sure he did his time on the treadmill and weights.

Just checking up, Tony drove the length of the county. The tanker was gone, towed away on its own wheels. The leakage had been less than feared but more than there should have been. Once all the measuring and discussion ended, it was clear the truck driver had been traveling too fast. He received a ticket and a lecture. Tony suspected he was going to get an earful from his boss as well. Wade told him how little the driver cared about the harm he'd done, and a string of curses and excuses had poured from the driver's belligerent face. Maybe his attitude stemmed from the shock of the accident itself, or maybe from the need to dramatize his life, but Tony didn't like him and would be pleased if he stayed out of Park County, Tennessee, for the rest of his life.

Tony drove carefully around the curve and headed for town. He noticed a small red pickup approaching, traveling slightly above the speed limit and swerving a bit. It was staying in the right lane. As it neared him, Tony realized the driver held a cell phone and was apparently sending a text message. Both hands flew over the device as the driver stared down at the screen.

A third hand, one belonging to a small passenger, gripped the steering wheel. Tony's daydream of continued peace and sane behavior shattered. He made a U-turn and fell in behind the pickup, flashing his lights and hitting the siren. The man behind the wheel—Tony wasn't sure he'd still qualify as the driver—leaned sideways like he'd dropped something and the pickup swerved hard, luckily not into oncoming traffic. The pickup finally stopped, half on the road, half in a ditch. The driver's side door opened and four hundred pounds of belligerent man shoved his way through the space. He clutched his cell phone in his left hand and dragged an ax handle from the open bed as he headed for Tony.

He didn't get far. Stopped by a scream coming from the pickup and the sight of Tony's semi-automatic aimed at his huge gut, he dropped the handle and raised his hands over his head.

Tony drove to Ruby's Café, went around to the back and sat outside. From his table he had a nice view of the ridge separating this area from downtown Silersville. The sight of spring foliage and the chirping of happy birds eased some of his frustration. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, forcing himself to relax. Wrecks, robbery, texting, and attempted assault: what was next? He was sure it would be something stupid and spring fever would be blamed.