Gone and Done It (11 page)

Wayne reached down for the paper sack he’d placed on the floor. “We have evidence that puts you at the scene.”

My gaze went to the bag, which held my trowel. My bloody trowel. How the hell had that happened? This was not going well. Wayne’s face was inscrutable, and Gail Bergeron’s pale features were frozen into a scowl. In her ice-blue slacks suit and frosted hair, she very much looked like an Ice Queen.

I couldn’t afford a lawyer, but I was starting to feel like a lawyer was a good idea.

I drew my hands back toward my body. “I never denied being there. I installed every foundation plant at Mallow. There’s probably
evidence
of me at each installation.”

“You have an unlimited supply of trowels, Mrs. Powell?” Gail asked.

“I own exactly two trowels, one of which has been missing for a couple of weeks. I don’t know when I lost it. I thought it would turn up somewhere.”

“It did turn up somewhere.” Wayne spoke through clenched teeth. “At a murder scene.”

Gail tapped her glossy fingernails against the tabletop. “Why didn’t you report it missing?”

“You’re kidding, right? The trowel cost less than five bucks. It’s nothing that would require a police incident report. I’ve lost two pairs of sunglasses this past year. Should I have reported them, too? Don’t you people have better things to do than harass hardworking citizens?”

“Your tool at the scene puts you there,” Wayne said. “That’s opportunity. Tell me about your guns. What kind of guns do you own?”

I didn’t like the way his voice roughened. I shivered and gripped my hands tightly together. I could barely breathe, let alone speak. “Two pistols and a shotgun.”

“Tell me about the pistols.”

I couldn’t contain my trembling. I shuddered outright in fear. I had to make them see I was innocent. I had to do more than cower in this chair. I could turn this interrogation around. It wasn’t too late. It couldn’t be.

“Wait. I’m confused. Are you telling me that this wasn’t death by trowel? Was the woman shot? With a gun?”

He leaned in close. “I’m asking the questions.”

Every sense I owned was screaming at me to run. My leg muscles twitched, my gut churned. So far no one had lied to me. I clung to that truth.

“You already know the answer.” I tried to sound confident, to keep him from knowing I was scared out of my gourd. “I’ve got Roland’s Glock and a little Beretta.”

“You sound very familiar with weapons. Who’s to say you don’t have another gun tucked away somewhere?” Gail turned to the sheriff. “Get a warrant to search her property.”

Her nastiness made my blood boil. I leaned forward in my chair. “My husband made sure that I was trained in self-defense. Plus, guns are a staple down here. Everyone owns guns.”

“She’s right about the guns,” Wayne said. “And if she had a murder weapon, she wouldn’t keep it at her house. Too obvious.”

“I want a list of every place she’s been in the last three weeks.”

Wayne straightened. “I’m running this investigation. Just because you managed to sideline Bo, don’t think you can walk all over me, too.”

Two powerful opponents, now at odds with each other, one loaded with testosterone and a badge, the other laden with feminine arrogance and political connections.

I glanced from Gail’s stony face to Wayne’s stormy one. “What happened to Bo?”

Gail looked down her nose at me. “Dr. Seavey has been relieved of duty pending an investigation into his unprofessional conduct.”

Dr. Sugar was a jerk. A letch, too. But he was our jerk. I didn’t like an outsider coming in here and making waves. “Bo can’t help how he is. You have to get past his personality. He gets the job done, and he’s the only coroner we’ve got.”

“Right now, you’ve got me. I’ve been temporarily reassigned here during this investigation.”

Great. A ball-busting, upwardly mobile do-gooder muscling in on poor old Dr. Sugar. Even though I didn’t care for the man, I respected that he was different. Hell, I understood different better than anyone.

Could I use my difference to buy extra time to snoop around? I stared at Gail. “What about the first remains I found? Did you find all three bodies?”

Gail exchanged a look with Wayne. He nodded. She cleared her throat. “We only found two skulls. However, there are a few bones intermingled with the adult female’s that might belong to another individual. At this point, I can’t tell definitively. Why do you think there are three bodies?”

I glanced at Wayne, hoping he’d jump in and explain. No such luck. I was on my own. My choices were few: clear the air or go to jail. “I have a strong sense of intuition. Oftentimes I know things about a person by touching an object. When I touched the skull, I got a strong sense of three people.”

“Three Native Americans?” Gail’s voice shrilled.

“Definitely not. Three settlers of Caucasian descent. A woman, a young boy, and an infant. Possibly two hundred years old. And quite possibly the family of colonist Robert Munro.”

Gail’s jaw dropped. She glanced over at the sheriff. “You didn’t tell me this.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know.”

“We can’t operate as a team if you withhold information,” Gail said.

Wayne’s dark eyes glittered with menace. I had the feeling he didn’t want to be on Gail’s team. Me neither. I wanted my life back. I wanted Gail to go away. I wanted to pretend none of this had ever happened.

I stood. “Unless you’re charging me, I’m going home.”

“Don’t leave town,” Wayne said.

I reached for the doorknob, thought about it, and turned back around. “Why do you think I killed anyone? Any of the workers out there could have taken my trowel and planted it with the woman.”

Gail arched an eyebrow. “Is this another of your intuitive perceptions?”

“No. It’s common sense. The realtor, the builder, the owner, and the subcontractors have been alone at Mallow recently. I’m not the only one with opportunity and means. But why would I kill a stranger? I don’t know the first thing about the victim, except for you telling me she was shot.”

“Your intuition didn’t kick in when you touched her?” Gail asked.

“It doesn’t work like that. And I wasn’t trying to read her. Once I dug up the hand, I stopped digging and moved away. I can’t tell you the first thing about her. Well, she wasn’t African American. Her skin tone was too light for that. Don’t you know who she is?”

“Our investigation is ongoing,” Wayne said.

Great. Standard double-speak. “I guess if I’m a suspect I won’t be a consultant on this case.”

“You are a person of interest in this case,” Gail said. “You will not be allowed access to any information we uncover.”

Her words didn’t ring the same as her previous statements.

She was lying.

Why?

What reason would the state archaeologist have to lie to me?

Charlotte scrambled to her feet in a flurry of green and yellow as I entered the jailhouse lobby. Without thinking, I hugged her. Miracle of miracles, she let me.

“I thought you were home with Larissa.”

My friend stiffened and backed away. Ever since we were accused of being dykes in high school, she was sensitive to any touching in public. “I called your parents. They insisted on staying with Larissa and sent me here. I’d’ve come back there too, except Hitler”—she stopped to point at Tamika behind the bulletproof glass—“Hitler wouldn’t let me in.”

Noise from the protest outside filtered through the front door. I nodded toward the thronged parking lot. “Let’s get out of here. This place is a zoo.”

“Your wish is my command.” Charlotte opened the door, and we started down the sidewalk. The television crews were gone. Stark overhead lights illuminated the area between the courthouse and the jail. Two uniformed deputies stood at the ready on the jail side of the demonstration. Four Native Americans chanted on the street side. A crowd of onlookers watched.

“We demand justice,” Running Wolf shouted hoarsely. “We are oppressed. Our people have been dishonored. The land is angry. The Great Spirit is deeply troubled.”

I had half a mind to tell him the bodies weren’t Native American, but I had enough problems with the sheriff right now. Gentle Dove looked like she was ready to drop. She flashed me a sad smile and trudged on with her placard.

Off to one side of the demonstration, realtor Buster Glass-man stood beside my well-intentioned brother-in-law, Bubba Powell. They moved forward to intercept us. Great. Just great.

“You okay?” Bubba Powell strained at his shirt buttons. I hoped he wouldn’t ask to borrow money again.

“Fine.” I kept moving toward Charlotte’s trusty Jetta. Getting drawn into an extended conversation with Buster wouldn’t be good. I would never help him with online betting. “I’m overwhelmed by all the commotion though. I’m ready for peace and quiet.”

Bubba shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I hate that you’re tangled up in another murder case.”

“Me, too.” He matched me stride for stride. Buster Glassman trailed behind with Charlotte. Tall and thin next to short and round. Reminded me of the fairy-tale characters Jack Sprat and his wife. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlotte and Buster exchange business cards. What was that about?

Charlotte clicked her key fob, and the electronic door locks released. Bubba held the passenger door for me. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

I nodded, thinking how our situations had reversed. I usually rescued Bubba, not the other way around. Charlotte hefted herself into the driver’s seat as Bubba closed my door. I looked over his shoulder, and Buster caught my eye. He put his hand up to his ear as if it were a phone. “Call me,” he mouthed.

I groaned. “Let’s go home.”

“Roger that.” The engine roared to life, and Charlotte zipped us out of the lot.

My head pounded with unasked questions. I couldn’t keep them in. “What was that with you and Buster?”

“Saw that, did ya?” Charlotte’s freckles danced on her nose. “I want to interview him about the Mallow property. He’s gonna meet me for lunch tomorrow.” She giggled. “Imagine that. Me having lunch with a real-live stud muffin.”

My hands clenched reflexively. Air whistled in through my teeth. I’d hate myself if I didn’t warn Charlotte. “Be careful. He’s not what you think.”

She arched a plucked eyebrow. “You know something about him?”

“He’s a heavy gambler. But if that fact gets back to him or in the paper, I’ll deny I said it. This is strictly off the record.”

Charlotte banged her hand on the steering wheel. “I hate off the record. It’s like knowing the answer in school and the teacher never calling on you. Wait. How do you know that? Did you peep inside his head?”

I shuddered. “Gross. No. Yuck. I can’t think of anything more disgusting. I’m no mind reader. And even if I could read minds, why would I want to? People think ugly thoughts. I don’t want to know what people think.” I sighed. “Buster asked me to partner with him in some online gambling scheme. Naturally, I said no.”

“Is he in financial trouble?”

“Who the hell cares? He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

Hobo and I went for a run first thing the next morning. It felt good to feel the wind on my face, to outdistance my thoughts. My arms swung with each stride. We ran until my chest burned, then we strolled back to the dog’s house.

Last night, I’d quieted Larissa’s concerns about my near arrest. Today, I owed my parents an explanation, so I headed there when I finished with the dog. I parked my truck in the side yard and stared at the multicolored cottage.

My aging hippy parents loved everyone and welcomed everyone and everything into their home. I’d grown up here in this concrete block cottage deep in the woods. There were no signs marking our front and back entrances, no mailbox, no house number. There was no need. Everyone knew where the Nesbitts lived.

Mama appeared in the open doorway in a faded denim jumper and waved me in. I managed a smile and obeyed. My pulse raced oddly. This conversation would change things. I knew it as well as I knew my name.

“I’ve got a pot of tea steeping,” Mama said. “Soup pot’s on for lunch, too.”

“Thanks.” From long habit, I sat in my chair at the kitchen table. “Where’s Daddy?”

Mama joined me, her white braid slipping over her shoulder. “Fooling around with his herbs. Once he knew you were headed this way, he ducked out for a bit to give us a few minutes alone.”

“How’d he know I was coming?”

Mama looked like the early bird who’d swallowed the worm. “He said you told him.”

“I came over right after I finished with my pet-sitting client.”

“That’s what he said. You must have been broadcasting your thoughts.”

“Guess I’ll have to watch that. I’m not used to communicating this way.”

“Relax. Let it happen. Your father used to know his mother’s schedule, too. You’ll be much happier if you don’t fight your nature.”

“Well, I’m not completely freaked out about it. That’s a start.”

“More than that, dear.” She reached into her jumper pocket. When she opened her palm on the table, a fistful of gems were in her hand. She scattered them on the table between us. “Since you only have the one crystal, I thought you might like to have backups.”

My eyes were drawn to the stones, in particular a stone that was somewhere between pink and purple. It called to me.

“Go ahead. Touch them. Pick them up. You can have as many of them as you like.”

I touched the various stones, picking them up, looking through them, but the only stone that felt right was the pinkish one. I stroked the polished surface. It felt sweet, made me feel as if I was encased in a bubble of light.

“You like the amethyst?” Mama beamed as if I’d just aced an exam.

“I’ve never thought much about stones before, but I really like this one. May I have it?”

“Absolutely. With my blessing. You’ve made an excellent choice.”

“It chose me.”

“Even better.”

“Hey, hey, hey, look who’s here.” Daddy carried a basket full of fresh herbs, their pungent fragrances dueling with Mama’s soup for precedence. In the other room, the weather-station meteorologist forecast a snowstorm in the northeast.