Deep-Fried Homicide (The Laurel Falls Mysteries Book 1) (15 page)

The call was given a second time and then Dooley lost his patience. Red and blue lights played over the cemetery; several spotlights were aimed at the mausoleum. It improved Rachel’s view of the scene and now Rick had leaned forward to watch the goings-on.

“They’re cornered now,” Rachel growled and Rick waited for the Renfield-style laugh that should naturally have followed. It did not.

The doors were thrown open and men rushed inside. The still of late-night Laurel Falls took over.

Presently, the eight policemen exited the mausoleum, weapons holstered once more. Rachel collapsed against the back of the seat.

“What the….” She was crestfallen.

“I don’t know, baby. They went inside there. We saw them.”

“Yea, yea. We saw them. The police saw them. And now…nothing!” She sneered into the darkness and folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe we should go down there and see what’s going on.”

“I think we should…” Rick was saved from saying any more by the ring of his phone.

“Rick here.”

“Dooley…”

“I’m putting you on speaker. Rachel’s here.”

“What the heck happened, Sheriff?” Rachel wanted to know.

“I have no idea. We made the approach. They didn’t even see us until we were like fifty yards from their position. They ran into that mausoleum and when we busted in there, it was empty. Well, except for the three corpses, of course. It’s a family mausoleum.”

“They didn’t come out the back,” Rick added. “We would have seen them.”

“I know. Honestly, I’m baffled. We’ll run the plates on these trucks and dust ’em for prints. But I don’t know what else we can do.”

“Is it okay if I come down and take a look around, Sheriff?” Rachel’s face was unreadable now, stoic.

“No, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. I don’t want you civilians tromping all over my evidence. You keep your grubby little mitts off this place until we’re done processing it, ya hear?”

“Yes, Sheriff.” Dejected once more, Rachel sank deeper into the car seat. “Good luck with it all.”

Rick hung up the phone and turned to his wife. “Well, we tried.” He started the engine then, checked Rachel’s face.

“There has to be another way out of there. Or a second room. A secret room. Something.”

“Be that as it may, it’s late. This is police business now and there’s nothing left for us but to go home and get a good night’s sleep. I’m sure Sheriff Dooley will tell us about anything he finds as soon as he finds it.”

“Yea. Sure.”

Rick put the car in reverse and began backing toward the road.

Rachel stared pensively out the window. Her face was dour and already her mind was spinning with possibilities. It was certain she wouldn’t sleep that night. Her brain was filled with details and scenarios.

“Drive really slow past the cemetery, okay?”

“Sure, baby.”

And Rick did.

T
he next morning, Rick and Rachel drove to work rather than walked. Rachel hadn’t slept a wink and her constant tossing, turning, and leaving the bed kept Rick from ever achieving deep sleep. They walked into the diner late, feet dragging the floor, eyes dull and heavily lidded.

“Good heavens! Look what the cat dragged in,” Macy laughed.

“You look like death warmed over,” Logan added.

“Gee, thanks, guys.” Rick shuffled back to the kitchen and reached for his apron.

“So, what’s up?” Macy asked, leaning on the counter and targeting Rachel with her stare.

With a heavy sigh and a slump, Rachel eased onto the stool and propped herself up on the counter. “We were up on the hill last night, watching the cemetery.”

“All night long?”

“No, just until the bad guys showed up and the cops came. Then we went home.” Rachel yawned.

“And of course, Rachel couldn’t sleep after that,” Rick added. “Which means I didn’t sleep either.”

“Did they catch them? Find any clues?” Macy looked hopeful.

“Actually, no. When the cops showed up, the bad guys ran into the mausoleum. But when the cops busted through the door like two minutes later, there was nobody inside.” Rachel watched Macy’s reaction, checked Logan’s face as well.

“How can that be?”

The sudden intrusion of Diane’s voice startled Rachel and she turned to face her. “I have no idea. The cops have no idea. It’s like magic, just poof and they were gone.”

“Well, hopefully the trucks told them something.” Rick suddenly looked to the door. “Or maybe the sheriff is about to.”

The bell sang out and the door opened, exhaling a gust of air conditioning onto the sidewalk. Dooley breezed through the door, looking nearly as disheveled and exhausted as Rick and Rachel.

“Good morning, diner denizens,” Dooley sighed, easing onto the nearest stool and slouching toward the counter.

“Been working on that one for a while, Sheriff?” Logan chuckled.

“Most of the morning. Yea. Say, could I trouble you for a cup of coffee?”

“I’ve got this,” Diane offered with a pat on Rachel’s back. She stepped behind the counter and poured a generous mug of coffee, then slid it in front of Dooley.

“Much obliged, ma’am.” Dooley took a long draw on the coffee, his eyes nearly closing with the relief of it. “Nice and fresh.”

“So, Sheriff, what have you learned? About the men in the cemetery, I mean.” Rachel eased down two stools, coming to rest right next to Dooley and turning to face him. “Did you get any prints? What about the tags?” She had come to life again.

“Actually, the tags on those trucks were stolen. They came up as registered to the phone company out in Elizabeth City. And those trucks were reported stolen about five years back, from a farm down south of here. They were finally listed as demolished so that the owner didn’t have to keep paying taxes and insurance on them.”

“Well, that’s not helpful,” Rachel growled. “What about prints?”

“No prints. There was a stray half-print here and there, but for the most part, I think they were wearing gloves.”

“Your men checked that mausoleum inside and out, right? Looking for hidden rooms and escape hatches and such?”

“They did.”

“And what did they find?”

“Nada. Zip. Zilch. There ain’t a thing in the world weird about that mausoleum.”

Rachel scowled at him. “There has to be something, you just haven’t found it yet.”

Dooley cocked one eyebrow at Rachel and leaned in until his nose almost touched hers. “Are you saying my men don’t know how to do their jobs, little lady? Cuz if you are…”

“I’m not saying that at all. All I’m saying is that all those men didn’t just walk into that mausoleum and disappear into thin air.”

“Maybe it’s an interdimensional portal,” Logan offered. All heads turned at once to look askance at Logan. He stared at each of them in turn, then continued. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot we don’t know about physics. Could be that such places exist. You never know.”

They continued to stare for many more long seconds, then collectively shook their heads.

“You have any problem with me poking around the mausoleum a bit, Sheriff?” Rachel asked.

“Over here!” Rick whistled through his teeth. “Your husband? He has a problem with it.”

“Only for a few minutes. Only in broad daylight.” Rachel looked hopefully at Dooley.

“All right. But only during the daytime. Never after dark. And I ain’t getting between you and your husband. You two work that out between you.”

“Did you ever find anything about the photo we identified?” Rachel asked, hoping to delay Rick’s input.

“Matter of fact, one of my men is bringing him back from Raleigh right now. We’ll question him and see what’s what. Should I call you if we learn anything? Or would you like to be there for the interrogation?” Dooley smirked at her, his eyes full of good humor and a touch of derision.

Rachel pulled a sour face and chuffed. “Just let me know if you find anything.”

“Yup. I will do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lie down under my desk and take a nap.” He tipped his hat to Rachel and smiled. “You have a good one now, y’hear.”

She watched him go, her mind spinning all over again. His men had inspected the mausoleum at night, in the dark. But she would have a chance to go over it in the light of day. She tracked the Sheriff’s slow progress with her eyes, watching through the windows until he rounded the corner, headed back to the station. Then she slid off the stool and dashed for the coat rack.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Rick wanted to know.

“I’m going to go check out that mausoleum.” Her face was alight with joy.

“Oh no you’re not!” Rick growled, shaking a spatula at her and frowning. “You stay away from that place. Besides, we’ve got breakfast rush going here.”

“The girls can handle it. Can’t you, girls?”

Diane and Macy looked at each other, then at Rick. They nodded silently.

“See? It’s all good. Be back in a flash.”

“No! Rachel don’t you walk out that door!” Rick was rounding the doorway then, bound for the half-open door and Rachel’s arm. “I do not want you going down there all alone, be it day or night.”

“Then come with me, darling.” She put on her sweetest face and watched as her charms failed her.

“I can’t go. What part of breakfast rush don’t you understand?”

Rachel stepped aside to let a customer walk through the door, then sidestepped Rick. “Logan can come with me. I might need muscle anyway.”

Rick stammered for a second, wondering if he should be insulted. In the end, he decided that Rachel never chose her words carefully enough and so had not meant to insult his manhood. “All right. You and Logan. But I want both of you back here in time for the lunch rush or I’ll fire you both.”

Something in the kitchen hit the floor and Rachel looked past Rick to see Logan’s shocked face. “Come on, pal. We’re off on an adventure.” There were several giddy schoolgirl toe-bounces thrown in for good measure, then she grabbed Logan’s coat and held it out for him.

“It’s a good thing you two are my best friends. Otherwise, I’d go find some sane people to work for.” Logan snatched his coat from Rachel and struggled into it.

“I love you, darling,” Rachel offered sweetly, standing on her tip-toes to kiss him.

Rick glared down at her from his nine-inch height advantage, refusing to yield. “I love you, too, nut job. Logan, do
not
let her get hurt.”

Logan saluted and edged toward the door. “You can count on me.”

And then they were out the door and away.

Chapter 8

L
ogan drove the truck, Rachel riding side saddle. Halfway there, she looked at Logan out of the corner of her eye, smirking as she said it. “Do you really believe in portals to other dimensions?”

Logan glanced at her quickly, then returned his eyes to the business at hand. “Not really. I mean, it’s an interesting theory, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“And remember that once upon a time, having the collected knowledge of the world on a computer was a theory.”

She nodded briefly, smiled, and said no more.

Logan guided the truck into the cemetery and drove at a respectful speed toward the back. He kept the truck well back from the mausoleum, so as not to disturb anything that might remain of the evidence. He climbed out and stretched, took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air.

“So, what’s your theory here?”

Rachel jumped down from the truck, letting out a soft puff of breath as her feet hit the ground. “No theory, really. They went in. They disappeared. I want to know how.” She made for the mausoleum at a brisk pace, side-stepping the truck tracks left behind from last night.

“Hey there, Rach. You let me go in first. Just in case…you know.”

“Okay, okay.” She threw up her hands in surrender and stopped walking.

Logan puffed up his chest and steeled himself against whatever he might find inside. One hand on the door, the other at the ready, he jerked open the door and leaped in. When he stepped back out, he was deflated, a shadow of his former warrior self.

“All clear, m’lady.”

Rachel was jazzed. Electricity raced across her skin and her mouth went suddenly dry. Finally, she was going to get a look at what was inside that mausoleum, good or bad. “Here goes nothing,” she said, checking Logan’s face one last time before stepping inside.

Tentatively, Rachel stepped inside the tomb. The air was stale and every inch of the crypt was covered in dust, but it was nothing like she expected. In the center of the tomb stood a large platform of granite upon which rested a gray coffin. Rachel assumed this was the first member of the family to die, the original patriarch. On each side wall was a series of racks upon which rested bodies in various stages of decay. The most recent had been there for a long while, since there was nothing left of the clothing or flesh, only a set of bones waiting to become dust. The back wall contained niches for urns, the burned remains of those who were not so fond of going into the ground or rotting in the open air.

Her eyes took it all in quickly, secretly searching for something that might give away the mausoleum’s secrets. She stood in the doorway and studied the floor. There was a scurry of footprints in the floor’s thick dust. They went this way and that, completely without rhyme or reason.

“None of these footprints points to any single destination. I can’t tell if they ran to the back wall or just circled the coffin. And I don’t see any scrape marks where anything was moved recently. No disturbed dust, no shapes to indicate items taken.”

She stepped to the back wall and examined the urns, picking up each one in turn and then putting it straight back where it was. She ran her hands over the wall, slapped at it, looking for uneven mortar or signs of movement. Then she paced off the interior dimensions, stepping quickly outside to pace off the exterior dimensions. Once she measured the thickness of the stone and did the math, she realized that all the numbers added up perfectly.

“I don’t get it,” she sighed, hands on her hips as she stared at the ceiling of the old crypt. “Everything adds up. There are no levers. No doors. No hatches or ladders.”