Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight (7 page)

“Oh, nasty. Something died under here.”

Mike relayed her message via the radio to Flavio, but omitted some of Sheila’s more colorful, extraneous words.

“Please, please, let it be something we don’t have to investigate,” Tony said. He could happily do without any additional work.

“Next house one of us has to climb under is your turn, Mike.” Sheila gasped. “I see what smells so bad. It’s okay, sort of. It looks like a possum.”

Relieved but sympathetic, Tony and Wade continued their own hunt. They found lots of dirt, some termites, a cranky chicken, and at the end of the road, an even crankier citizen who didn’t want them coming into his yard. “I’ll shoot you if you come on my property.”

“Fine.” Tony’s patience level dropped from thin to nonexistent. He’d had some dealings with the man before. Miller was his name. “Did you happen to threaten anyone else today, Mr. Miller?”

“Yep.” Clearly surprised to be addressed by his name, Miller let the barrel on the shotgun waver fractionally. “Just a bit ago. Feller in a white shirt.”

“Where’d he go?”

Finally satisfied this particular group came in peace, Miller moved his finger from the trigger and lowered the barrel, pointing it at the ground. “I watched him go between those trees.” He nodded at a couple of scraggly dogwoods outside his fence. “I watched him stomp all the way down to the highway. Looked like a plumber with a big old wrench he was swingin’ like a club.”

“A wrench?” Tony said. “What kind of wrench?”

“It was a pipe wrench. Kinda rusty looking.” He frowned, looking thoughtful, “I almost forgot, he had a hammer in his other hand. Looked kinda odd to me.”

“The man or the hammer looked odd?”

Mr. Miller chuckled and a gleam of amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Now that you ask, I’d say both of them, but the hammer had a real long claw.” He gestured, indicating about six or seven inches.

“You notice anything else?” Tony hoped the now relaxed Mr. Miller might remember seeing someone he recognized give their assailant a ride.

The man nodded. “I might not of seen him at all but for his loud talkin’. He was fussin’ at someone who wasn’t there and givin’ them a real earful. Oo-wee, he was so mad, he was frothin’ worse’n a mad dog.”

Hoping they hadn’t missed anything during their search, and after getting Mr. Miller’s contact information, they followed the path their shotgun-wielding witness indicated. It was a fairly decent path down to the edge of the highway, probably often used by the nearby residents. It was not a long walk down, so Mr. Miller might have been able to see any vehicle that stopped to pick their assailant up. If there had been one.

They saw nothing on the shoulder of the highway except an assortment of used fast-food wrappers, cups, beer cans, and a couple of diapers tossed out on the grass by people Tony didn’t want to know. Litterbugs and home invaders were not on a par with each other, but Tony didn’t like either of them.

“Sheriff?” Deputy Mike Ott and his bloodhound, Dammit, stood in the doorway. “Have you got a minute?”

Tony looked up from his paperwork. Even though it was the bane of his existence, he’d rather do it than have to deliver bad news to another family. “What’s up?”

“I need to take Ruby to Knoxville for some medical tests. Sheila and Holt said they wouldn’t mind covering my schedule, but I was wondering if Dammit can stay with you. I hate to leave him home alone for very long or maybe overnight.”

“Of course I’ll keep him.” Tony said. “Is there a problem? Do you need extra time off?”

“No. Ruby and the baby are fine.”

Tony thought Mike sounded more defiant than assured. “What’s going on?”

“They just want to make sure the baby’s heart is growing properly.” Mike gnawed on his lower lip. “The test is not supposed to take long, and everyone says it’s probably just fine. Just a precaution.”

“Leave the dog here and go home.” Tony leaned forward. “Now. Call me when you know something.”

Mike wasted no time following his instructions. Dammit flopped on the rug near the door and stared at Tony, giving him the baleful bloodhound stare, acting as if his life would be a misery if he had to stay with Tony overnight. His homely face with its loose skin was the picture of sorrowful abandonment.

Tony had to laugh. The dog was a fraud. Dammit loved to visit the Abernathy house because Daisy lived there. The bloodhound and golden retriever were great friends and playmates. Together the dogs weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds, and running up and down the stairs made the old house shake.

“The man we think might have been driving the car surfer has turned up.” Wade’s voice came through the radio. “Should I wait for you, or do you just want me to bring him in?”

“Where are you? I’ll come there.” Tony wasn’t sure he was prepared to learn what happened, and he was sure he wasn’t going to like it.

“I’m at Santhe Flowers’s home. She called in to let us know our suspect, David Logan, is back,” Wade said. He lowered his voice. “She’s trying to make up for Blossom’s mistake.”

A very different Santhe Flowers, having repented her former bad attitude, shepherded them into her rooming house, smiling and chatting with Tony. The large two-story house was at least a hundred years old and in need of some paint. The old white house had a wide front porch that wrapped around to one side, where the door leading into the kitchen was located. They went in through the front door. A staircase was directly in front of them, dividing the lower floor of the house in half. She waved one hand upwards. “There’s four bedrooms up there, one bathroom, and four men. No women. Not even visiting. I have my rules and standards.”

Tony thought the glare she focused on him would intimidate anyone. “Do you spend any time with the guys, or do they come in and immediately go upstairs?”

“Oh, I see what you want to know.” Santhe led them to the left, through the kitchen, and into an alcove. “This refrigerator is theirs to share. They can keep small amounts of food and beverages in it. Same thing with this cupboard. No food is allowed anywhere except in here, in the kitchen, out on the porch, and in the TV room. Make a mess, clean it up.” She pointed to a half-closed door. “Television’s in there. First man in gets the remote. No fighting. They can bring dates here if they want.”

Wade pushed the door open a bit wider. “Looks very pleasant.”

Glancing past his deputy, Tony saw a large-screen television, a row of older style but comfortable looking recliners, a video-game system, and a stack of oversized floor pillows. He’d expected a caveman atmosphere, but the room was well lighted and had nice curtains and didn’t reek of sweat and tobacco. “Very nice.”

At his compliment, Santhe seemed to relax a bit. “My roomers are nice or they leave.”

“Tell me about David Logan.” Tony shepherded Santhe out onto the shady porch. “How long has he lived here?”

“Hmm.” Santhe mimicked her sister Blossom’s habit of pressing an index finger to the indentation between chin and lower lip when she was thinking. “I’d say six months, give or take a bit.”

“Did he tell you what happened the other night?”

“Not really. When I told him you wanted to talk to him, he said that he was afraid he’d screwed up something and it couldn’t be fixed.” Santhe’s curiosity became visible. “He didn’t say what he did.”

Tony thought “screwed up” pretty well summed up the drinking and surfing episode culminating with a corpse in a tree. “I need to talk with him.”

Santhe stepped aside. “He’s upstairs. First room on the left.”

Tony and Wade trudged up the stairs. Tony felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. He was certain Logan had done a wrong thing. He was not certain what all the man was legally guilty of doing. At minimum, it was probably reckless endangerment and having an improper rider or some other well-hidden violation. What were the chances he’d intentionally driven down one of the few roads with low branches overhead? There were yellow warning signs clearly indicating the unusually low vertical clearance, but maybe he forgot the height of the man. Or maybe he knew exactly. Accidental or intentional? Dumb or criminal?

Tony knocked on the door and waited. He heard the sounds of someone coming to the door. When the door opened, a tired-looking man in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, stood quietly staring at the space between himself and Wade.

“Sheriff?”

“Can we talk?”

“Sure, sure.” Logan backed into the room and waved them inside.

Tony gave the room a quick glance. Messy but not too bad. The bed wasn’t made, and there was a stack of clean laundry on a straight-backed chair. “You want to tell us what happened the other night?”

“I, uh . . .” The words stopped. He might have decided confession would be good for the soul but really bad for the rest of him. “No.”

Tony traced a line on the floor with his toe. “No?” He shook his head. “Why not?”

“I, uh . . .” A shoulder twitched once and went still. “Dunno.”

“Dunno what happened or why you don’t want to tell me?” The man had the lost, stunned appearance of an accident victim himself. “Are you all right?”

“I, uh . . . Dunno.” Logan blinked rapidly, then stopped. “I don’t feel too good.”

Thinking their suspect looked like he was about to lose his lunch, Tony stepped back and glanced down the stairs. He really didn’t want another person throwing up on him or his shirt. “Why don’t we go outside and sit in the fresh air.”

Logan led the way downstairs, practically running until he burst outside onto the porch. Santhe barely stepped out of his way in time. When Logan threw up in one of her flower pots, her expression lost its pleasantness. “You
will
clean that up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Logan bobbed his head. “I’ll do that in just a minute.”

Santhe glared at Tony. “See that he does.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tony’s own head was bobbing as she stepped back into her house and slammed the screen door behind her. Evidently their truce did not extend to allowing someone to be ill on her premises.

Logan whispered. “She’s nice. But. She don’t care much for a mess.” He struggled to his feet, ambled over to the spigot, and turned the knob. He let it run until it cooled a bit, and ran it over his face, hands, and hair before he filled a watering can and carefully washed the geraniums. When he finished, he sat on the step, his hands clasped together, and started talking to Tony.

“Curry said he’d seen something on the television about car surfing and asked if I’d ever thought about trying it.” Logan couldn’t seem to stop his head from moving ever so slightly from side to side. “I never heard of such a thing.”

“Did you try it or just do the driving?” Wade leaned against the column supporting the porch overhang.

“Oh, I tried it. Curry drove just a little way down the road before I fell off.” He lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt exposing a large area covered with myriad small scabs. “I lost a fair amount of skin pretty fast.”

“And then?” Tony wanted to ease him into the remainder of the story.

“Some great big dude in a shirt with the sleeves ripped out jumped on the top of my truck and I thought the roof was caving in. He said he wanted to ride next.” Anger was filling in some of the places where guilt and fear had been. “He broke it. See? Look at my truck.”

Sure enough. The roof on a not new, not old, dark green extended cab pickup showed definite signs of having experienced too much weight.

“Then what happened?” Tony studied the man’s face as he stared at his damaged truck. Anger seemed to be pumping some energy into his system.

“I made him get off. There was a bit of a skirmish and then it was over. The big dude had a monster of a pickup and it was all jacked up high, you know, with way oversized tires. Practically need a ladder to get into it.”

“Go on,” Tony suggested. He was appalled and fascinated by the scenario being described by Logan.

“Well, we’re zooming around the streets, Curry is standing on the top of the monster truck laughing like crazy, and the big dude is driving. And then, all the sudden”—he paused, breathing heavily—“everything went quiet. Curry was gone. Man, he was just gone. He wasn’t on the truck. Wasn’t in the bed. We drove up and down looking on the roads, the shoulders, and the ditches. It was like he’d been abducted by aliens.”

“Okay.” Tony rose, dusting off the seat of his pants. “As they say on television—don’t leave town.”

Logan’s bloodshot eyes watered in the bright sunlight. “What happened to Curry?”

Wade was already on the radio, looking for information about the monster truck when Tony explained the result of the evening’s entertainment.

“In a tree? I had no idea. Now I’m sorry I was complaining about a little road rash.”

In a community the size of Silersville, it didn’t take long before Tony and Wade located their new surfer dude, or at least his probable vehicle. Logan had not exaggerated the height and size of the dazzling orange truck’s tires. Theo would need a full-size ladder just to reach the door handle. He and Wade studied the vehicle from several angles. There were a couple of scratches that looked a bit fresh, but Tony had no way of knowing what caused them. Their dead surfer had been wearing tennis shoes.