Murder by Artifact (Five Star Mystery Series) (17 page)

Nina strolled across the lawn, joining Theo and Jane. Her copper hair bounced in the midday sun, shooting off sparks of gold. “Have you ever seen anything like that?” Exuberant as ever, Nina’s laugh echoed between buildings. “I swear I thought Doreen was about to molest a corpse. Strip her bare in her own coffin and to hell with the witnesses.”

“No kidding. I think she would have if she hadn’t realized she’d probably never want to wear her favorite dress again. Can you imagine wearing the dress you were almost buried in?” Theo started to giggle and soon others were laughing as well. Half of the regular patrons of her quilt shop gravitated in their direction.

An impromptu survey of her customers confirmed that none of them knew who was in the coffin.

“Let’s go eat.” Nina led the way, and Theo was swept along in the crowd.

Once they had filled their plates with food, most of the Thursday night bowlers settled in at one of the long tables. The women ate for a while in satisfied silence, punctuated by moans of delight.

Martha still had her hands wrapped around a thick ham sandwich when she looked at Theo. “Tony hustled us out of there so fast it about made my head spin.”

Theo might have replied when Jane launched herself into the conversation. “Sonny sure was carrying on about ‘his baby.’ ” Jane emptied a pair of sugar packets into a short glass of iced tea. “Which one of Sonny’s girlfriends do you reckon is the mother of that poor girl?”

No one seemed to have an answer to the question. The majority knew Sonny sowed his wild oats liberally, although not in Silersville or the immediate vicinity. At least not so far.

“Do you suppose any of the items Doreen and Bathsheba donated to the museum were hers? You know, the body’s?” Jane looked up from her heavily laden plate and glanced around.

“No.” Martha jumped as if she’d been hit with a bolt of electricity. “When they brought those quilts in to me, they swore since there were no other Cochran women, no one would object to our displaying the quilts.” Martha waved her fork, making her nearest neighbor lean away. “They said it like only women are interested in family heirlooms. Do you know how many men are really into genealogy?”

“Did you know I was invited to Sonny’s farm one time?” As a topic switch, it was powerful enough to quiet the group. The speaker, elderly little Caro, waited until she had all their attention. Sliding forward until she perched on the edge of her chair, she arranged her silverware with arthritis-gnarled fingers. Her faded eyes twinkled. A born storyteller, she knew how to pull an audience to the edge of their seats.

“When was this?” Theo asked.

“Oh, it was years ago. My husband still loved to ride those Tennessee Walking Horses of his in shows across the country. Sonny invited us to a luncheon out there to celebrate a big prize he’d won. Sonny, that is. While my husband and Sonny had some discussion about the horses, I mostly looked around. Sonny’s mother, Bathsheba, was there and so was her husband. He was still alive at the time.” Caro giggled.

“And of course Sonny’s wife wore a dress that would cost a year’s wages.” Caro smiled a dreamy little smile. “The farm was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. All of the buildings were painted with fresh white paint and the trim was red. I remember it like it was yesterday. Miles of white board fences contrasted with the beautiful green grass. It made those black Walking Horses of Sonny’s look like they were part of a painting.”

“What was the Queen Mother like then?” Nina leaned closer.

Caro lifted her napkin close to her face, covering her nose and mouth.

Theo thought she heard the elderly woman make a snorting sound. She discounted it as a figment of an overactive imagination.

“She was very gracious, but cold. Isn’t it funny that no one ever uses her first name?”

“What is it?” One of the newer quilters leaned close.

Caro’s shoulders rose and fell. With a slight shake of her head, she returned to her story. “I did feel like I was in the presence of royalty. Even though we ate outside, the table was covered with a heavy linen cloth and lots of silver and crystal. It was the prettiest table I ever did see.” Her gnarled fingers smoothed the vinyl tablecloth next to her plate. “Nobody in my family ever had anything to speak of. In the summer we ate lots of greens, and corn in the winter. It seemed like there was never any meat except pork on the table.” She took a dainty bite of the slab of ham on her plate. “Sure tastes better when someone else does the slopping and curing and cooking.”

Theo could tell something else had happened that day. She suspected the others felt the same, because no one interrupted or changed the subject. They all quietly watched Caro eat while they enjoyed their own piles of food.

Finally Caro picked up the threads of her story. “A young woman came while we were there. She was a pretty girl, small and blond and looked like the painting of Doreen that hangs over the fireplace. I thought she was Doreen at first until Mrs. Sonny—don’t you think it’s odd she doesn’t use any other name?—anyway she just stood up from the table without so much as a word and stalked off.”

Jane looked appalled. “What did the girl do?”

“She apologized very sweetly for interrupting our lunch. Then she whispered something to Sonny and he excused himself for a moment, and they talked down by the stable for a little while and then she left. I don’t know where she came from or where she went. Sonny came back after a bit and picked up his fork and we continued with lunch. He didn’t introduce her and he didn’t say a word about his wife’s departure.” Caro pulled a piece of sticky bun apart with her fingers. “I do remember noticing our luncheon was more fun after the Queen Mother left. What is her first name anyway?”

Tony stared at the unburied coffin. He’d sent the family away, mostly because he was at a loss for words.

Equally silent, Wade sat across the aisle, his eyes trained on the blanket of pink carnations now strewn in an untidy heap on the floor.

Tony’s eyes moved over upended floral displays and back to the deceased. What were they supposed to do with Patti’s body? He mentally ran through his vocabulary, looking for a word to describe his mental condition. Flummoxed. Although not a word he used daily, it about covered his thought process. He had no idea what happened. How had everything gotten so screwed up? He could understand how and why the misidentification had occurred, although the melodrama created in the church turned it into a topic that would be discussed and explored for the next forty years. He could even understand why Doreen’s return hadn’t exactly created the kind of happy excitement that might be expected after such a miracle.

Would the gossip hurt Doreen’s feelings?

Did she have feelings? She must, even if she wasn’t exactly Mrs. Warmth on a good day.

Tony’s thoughts circled again. Why was Patti Yager in the museum office trailer? Why did Patti come to Silersville at all? How did she get to the museum site? The easiest solution was sometimes the best. In this case, the simplest answer would have the killer drive her out there. But, who? Why? Was there a possibility Doreen herself did it? She could have killed her half sister and driven off in Patti’s vehicle.

He jotted down a series of notes to himself. He needed to find out if Patti had a car and, if so, what make it was. Where did she work and when was the last time she was seen there? How long had she been in town before she died? Tony didn’t want to make a trip to Chattanooga. He would anyway.

He flinched when he heard the front door of the church open again. What now?

A half turn of his head and a quick glance revealed the mayor’s lanky form. Blocking the afternoon sun, he clung to the knob on the door. Sweat rolled like tears down his lean face. His eyebrows rose in a silent question.

“Come in.” Tony leaned back on the pew.

Calvin tiptoed down the carpeted aisle and stopped in front of Tony. “Thank you, Sheriff. I swear I will never mention the word ‘impeach’ again, I’ll vote for you and endorse everything you stand for.”

“Did you get all of Doreen’s things put away?” Tony noticed the mayor’s complexion looked less healthy than the body in the box, his pallor tinged with green.

Tony guessed the man must have broken every speed limit in the county.

“No, but enough to save my life.” Tears welled in Calvin’s eyes. “She’s at home, fussing about the mess I made while picking out a dress.” He turned to look at Patti’s coffin and placed his right hand over his heart. “I had no idea. I swear that I didn’t know.”

Dignified and determined, the preacher walked in and stood, hands clasped, near the casket. He stared at the three men. As a hint, it was subtle as well as effective. Without speaking, he simply waited without moving until Tony spoke to him.

“I suppose you would like Calvin to take Patti’s body back to the mortuary,” said Tony.

“Thank you, yes,” said the preacher, releasing a heartfelt sigh. “We certainly can’t just leave her here.”

Calvin’s expression went beyond mournful. He looked like he was about to throw himself over the mahogany lid and sob like a broken man. In spite of the mayor’s heartfelt thanks, Tony could only imagine Doreen’s return to her home had been a disaster. Not for the first time did Tony wonder why the couple stayed together. It certainly wasn’t for the children. There weren’t any. He supposed the example set by Sonny and the Queen Mother had a great deal to do with it.

“What will happen to her now?” Wade finally found his tongue.

Calvin said, “I spoke briefly to her father and understand she’ll be buried next to her husband in Chattanooga. Sonny said that he’ll make the arrangements and then we’ll transport her.” He gently latched the coffin lid and lifted the broken blanket of pink carnations from the floor and spread it over the top. A fair number of crushed blossoms fell off, sending a wave of scent through the room. “Sonny’s in shock right now, so I doubt it will be very soon. He said something about contacting the rest of his children. He was whispering so softly I couldn’t catch everything he said.”

Tony found himself fascinated by the tabloid-style family and had to rein in his impulse to ask for unrelated details. His own family had been the dullest imaginable. His father, a Methodist minister, had married a Latin teacher and they had raised four exceptionally dull children. The most interesting thing about any of them was their mother’s penchant for christening them with names harkening back to the world of ancient Rome. As children, it had been embarrassing when the teachers seemed to delight in using their full names. They had lived through it.

Tony watched Calvin. “You never met Patti? You knew about her, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. Doreen and her mother were adamant about keeping Sonny’s indiscretions away from me and everyone possible. I knew he had other children, but with such a cold reception, why would anyone want to visit?” He pushed the shock of wheat-colored hair out of his eyes and looked directly into Tony’s. “I swear I had no idea that it wasn’t Doreen, and furthermore, I swear I had nothing to do with this woman’s death.”

Tony believed him. Why would someone make up such a ridiculous story?

Only minutes later, the mayor and preacher wheeled the coffin down the aisle. Their softly spoken words held only respect for the dead. As soon as they passed through the doorway, leaving the sanctuary to the two lawmen, Tony turned to Wade. “Did you see anyone at the service who seemed out of place? Anyone who surprised you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wade’s dark blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Queen Doreen.” The moment the name passed his lips, he started to laugh and the more he laughed, the funnier he seemed to find his joke.

A long-suppressed rumble of laughter finally escaped Tony’s own chest and soon he and his deputy were howling with merriment. “Did you ever see an expression like D-Doreen’s when she l-l-looked into the c-coffin?”

“Calvin’s when he saw her coming toward him.” Wade’s nose began to drip and his whole body shook with mirth as he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes and nose. “I never felt so sorry for anyone in my whole life. I thought he was going to pee in his pants.” Unable to control himself, he surrendered to another bout of hysteria.

If Tony could have stopped laughing himself, he would have agreed with his deputy. As it was, all he could do was double up, overcome by the situation, until he was almost ill. At last, he stood bent over with his hands braced on his thighs and gasped for breath.

Another few minutes passed while they purged their inappropriate responses and regained their equilibrium.

Side by side, the two men strode up the aisle. Other than a telltale gleam of amusement, he was sure they had been unable to remove, Tony felt certain that the pair of them looked like men on a mission. He turned to face Wade as he pushed the door open. “We need to find out why Patti was in town and how she got out to the museum.”

“Why do you think she was out there?” Wade’s expression reflected his own curiosity. “I could understand why Doreen might go, since she donated a bunch of stuff, but her half sister?”

“I haven’t had much time to think about it, either, although it does seem odd. I guess not really much odder than the idea it was Doreen out there. It never made any sense that Doreen would go there after hours.” Tony stared across the yard and saw a few well-fed, would-be funeral attendees leaving the fellowship hall.

A couple of teenage girls strolled toward them. Putting an extra swing in their hips, they smiled at Wade.

Wade kept his eyes forward.

Tony laughed. “At least I know that my mom and aunt didn’t kill her.”

“How’s that?”

“Because they would never risk getting blood on an antique quilt,” said Tony.

“That probably eliminates your wife as well.” Wade adjusted the bill of his cap. “I’d have to say it also eliminates a fair number of the quilt shop customers.”

“At least we get to eliminate someone. It’s a start.” Tony grinned as he slipped an antacid tablet into his mouth. “I’m going to the office.”