Murder by Artifact (Five Star Mystery Series) (25 page)

“Ruby’s not interested in a pretty boy like that.” Mike shifted his grip on the kudzu vine he held out of Sheila’s way. “Can’t we just cut this damned thing? It’ll grow back before morning.”

“Just a few more photographs, okay?” said Sheila.

Tony wasn’t sure if that was a question to him or a statement addressed to Mike. He spoke into his radio. “Rex, if Wade’s done with his delivery mission, tell him I need him out here pronto to do his fingerprint thing. You can also tell him he’ll enjoy this one. No blood.”

Rex’s reply began with a shout of laughter loud enough for all to hear, then he moved on to his report. “The suspect is locked up where I can keep an eye on him.”

“Hey, Rex?” Tony said. “Have Wade bring us some bottles of cold water. Big bottles.”

“You got it.”

Watching from their comparatively pleasant occupation of holding the vegetation away from the car, Tony and Mike and Sheila offered countless words of encouragement to their comrade. Wade bent over the car, twirling fingerprint powder on the car door. If anything, it was getting hotter with the afternoon sun pouring through gaps in the canopy. Wade’s suggestion they tow the car out first and then he’d lift prints fell on sympathetic ears.

“No can do.” Tony shook his head. “Frank and Joe Thomas can’t hook up a tow cable without running their greasy hands over every last inch of a car and you know it. It’s nothing conscious; they just like to touch cars.”

What Wade said in response was muffled, which was probably just as well. Tony doubted it was something he’d want to hear. He grinned at his other deputies. “At least we didn’t have to glove up. It makes my hands sweat just thinking about it.”

Wiping her dripping face against her already sweat-soaked shirt sleeve, Sheila started to giggle. “By the time he finishes, he’s going to have prune fingers.” She lifted a bottle of cold water to her lips.

Tony heard the sound of the garage’s truck arrive with a heavy-duty winch and a flatbed trailer. He went out to explain what he needed. Stepping into the sunlight was a shock. Even as hot as it was, it felt at least twenty degrees cooler than it did in the shade.

Theo left the ladies and Gus lingering over their pie at Ruby’s Café. Her mind churned, moving from questions about Tony’s actions at the museum site to her own need to get the boys from day camp and the ever-present question of what to have for dinner. She drove to her quilt shop and parked in the front, knowing she wouldn’t be there for more than a few minutes.

Theo inhaled deeply, needing to relax just a bit, and noticed a sour smell coming from the back of the minivan. Wondering which boy left something to mold or die under the seat, she frowned and added an item to her mental shopping list. Time to get a new air freshener. Extra strength.

She climbed from the van and paused on the sidewalk, glancing at her watch. The boys would be done at day camp in half an hour. Luckily, she didn’t plan to stay long at the shop, just check to make sure no one needed her.

Between the boys’ baseball practices and games, Tony’s work schedule and hers, it felt like weeks since the whole family had sat down to eat at the same time. Although she knew it hadn’t been very long, Theo liked having dinner with her family. She loved the commotion. The boys would wiggle and spill and Daisy would lurk under the table waiting for fallen snacks. Tony would tell them silly stories and corny jokes.

When Theo was a little girl, she had dreamed of such chaos. Her grandmother placed the food on the table. Her grandfather would read a long Bible passage, say grace and then the three of them ate in silence. If it hadn’t been for the books she smuggled into the house from the library, she would never have dreamed life was different in other families. Although she had often been invited to Nina’s home for dinner, she was never allowed to go.

“Miz Theo?”

A man’s voice boomed into her head. Theo gasped and spun around. Claude Marmot grinned and sidled closer until his face stopped only inches from hers. It suddenly struck her that under the swagger and layers of dirt was an attractive man. His terrible teeth gave him the rodent appearance. Claude could stand to lose a few pounds but he wasn’t grossly overweight. A larger shirt would cover the hairy belly and if he shaved off the constant stubble, his face would be better than average. His hair was thick and dark with golden highlights. A little shampoo and elbow grease should make it gleam. She considered it patently unfair he was blessed with long, thick eyelashes that every woman of her acquaintance would kill for. Those lashes shaded clear, dark eyes that glimmered with intelligence and a hint of mischief.

“Can I help you, Claude?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do hope so.” He shifted from side to side and his eyes flickered to the ground and up.

Theo stared at him, waiting for his next comment. In all her years, Theo had never seen Marmot-the-Varmint without his customary self-confidence. She prompted him. “What do you need?”

Hesitant, Claude idly scratched the portion of his bare stomach left exposed by the short, rattyatty orange T-shirt. “I was wondering, that is, if I paid you, that is, if it’s not too much, that is, would you make a quilt for my fiancée? You know, as a kind of welcome present?”

“Fiancée?” So, a rumor she’d heard in the shop was true. Claude had sent for a mail-order bride. “When’s the wedding? How much time would I have?”

“Maybe two weeks, maybe three months.” A rumble like thunder shook the air as Claude laughed.

Another first, Theo thought. Claude wasn’t prone to outbursts of merriment, usually spending more time complaining than working.

“She don’t get here till Wednesday next.”

For one insane moment, Theo ignored the work involved and actually considered the idea. “I’m sorry. I would like to, I’m afraid I just don’t have that kind of time.”

His crestfallen expression compelled her to suggest an alternate plan. “If you like, I’ll ask my quilting group.” She thought surely each of the “bowlers” would pitch in and make a few quilt blocks and the group quilting on the frame in the shop made quilts for charity. A monetary donation from Claude would get the thing finished in next to no time. “I think something can be arranged.”

A burst of honking horns brought her into the present. At least ten cars were blocked by Claude’s converted car/truck. He ignored the noise. “That would be great, Miz Theo.”

“I, uh, you’d better unclog the road before there’s a riot, and I need to go pick up my boys. We can talk about this later. You know, discuss colors and sizes.” As she spoke a tourist, a middle-aged man in hideous plaid shorts, climbed down from his pickup and strode toward them. His face was purple and steam seemed to rise from his whole body.

“Somebody better move that piece of crap.” The tourist pointed at the car/truck. “It’s probably not legal to even have it on the street.”

Claude nodded and ambled toward his vehicle. The tourist’s attitude produced the effect Theo expected. Claude made a production of inspecting each tire and every inch of the car/truck before he yawned widely and climbed behind the wheel. He took his time starting the vehicle.

Theo was surprised the mollified tourist managed to drive away—without having a stroke.

Theo abandoned her plan to go into the shop. Her mind filled with the news of Marmot-the-Varmint’s upcoming nuptials, she stepped off the sidewalk, headed for the minivan. She always liked to give herself a few extra moments of leeway when it was time to pick up the boys. Surprised at the speed of passing time, she realized day camp would be over in fifteen minutes. It should only take two minutes to drive there, unfortunately, just because the minivan ran minutes ago, there was no guarantee it would start now. If it didn’t, she would use the extra time to walk over and meet the boys.

She stared at the silver-blue menace. It was unlocked, as usual, because the lock on the driver’s door broke over a year ago. To lock it required pushing the button on the door and climbing over the console and out the passenger door. Getting in again required the process in reverse. There was never anything of value inside the van. Not even a moron would steal it, but she could dream. In her rosiest thoughts, it would simply disappear, removed from her life by providence. If it was stolen or wrecked, their insurance company wouldn’t pay. It wasn’t worth carrying anything more than liability coverage.

Theo felt as if she’d reached the breaking point. If it failed to start one more time, she might just borrow one of Tony’s guns and put it out of her misery. She could be a news item, “Sheriff’s wife kills car.”

With a honk and jaunty wave, Claude and his car/truck vanished around the corner.

She returned the wave, then squeezed past a shiny red motorcycle as big as a car, and climbed into her minivan. It was hot inside, as only a closed car in a heat wave could be, so Theo left her door open for air. Gasping for breath, she turned the key, and the engine shuddered and started. The moment she was sure it wouldn’t die, Theo hit the button to lower the window. It stopped halfway down. That, too, had become normal.

Knowing the Abernathys’ budget limitation, the Thomas brothers had checked out several used vans for them. So far they fell into three groups, “too expensive,” “needs work” and Theo’s favorite: “Why buy someone else’s problem?”

The air conditioner rumbled into action, spewing tepid air. It was definitely cooler than the outside air, now it smelled like rotting garbage. Not only was her nemesis unreliable, it was starting to stink more and more by the second. Instead of its usual dog and boy smells with an overtone of dead skunk, it smelled like rotting food mixed with heavy perfume.

Maybe some critter had climbed into the undercarriage and died and the sweltering heat had rotted it. The swirling air coming from the vents circulated the vile results.

She backed out of her parking spot and put the van into “drive.”

“Let’s go to your house, shall we?” A whispery voice came from behind her, sending a wave of warmer fetid air over her.

Something poked into Theo’s neck. It was cold and metal and smelled of gunpowder. About its use, there was not a shadow of a doubt in her mind. It could only be the barrel of a gun. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see anything from the corner of her eye. Theo didn’t move.

“Now.” The voice from behind her vibrated with anger.

“Home?” Theo’s brain couldn’t seem to process the word. “Where’s home?”

“Stupid woman.” The muffled voice grew louder. “Your home.”

Adrenaline surged through Theo. Although her pulse raced, she turned her head a fraction of an inch toward her shoulder. It was enough. Now, she could identify the object poking her. She knew enough about handguns to recognize the barrel of a revolver pressed to the tender flesh under her chin. It was big, at least a .38 caliber, maybe even larger. Inside the cylinder, dark gray lead caught the light, proving to her the revolver was loaded. Tiny spots danced before her eyes.

“If you want your family to live, drive.” The person in the back seat pressed the barrel deeper. “Carefully. Don’t try to attract any attention.”

Theo drove steadily toward her house, her mind racing as fast as her heartbeat, to no avail. Not a single halfway decent idea came to her. She turned left onto their short street. On the right side were three houses before a dead end at the creek. Theirs was the last house. The neighbors probably weren’t home.

To the left was the park. This side of the park was deserted; picnic tables and the playground were at the other end. Theo slowed, waiting for instructions.

“Park in the street, next to the curb.”

Theo complied. What else could she do? At least the boys were safe. No one would be home.

“We’re going inside. Bring your keys and purse.”

More fetid air. Whoever was behind her needed breath mints. Bile rose in her throat. Theo swallowed it and opened her door. The person with the gun climbed between the front seats and followed her closely, never moving the gun barrel away from her. Theo turned her head a fraction. Her mouth fell open.

Icky Vicky Parker held the revolver.

“Vicky? Why are you doing this?” Theo could barely form the words. Nothing made any sense.

“Inside.” Vicky walked close to her, prodding her with the gun. If anyone spotted them, their demeanor would not seem abnormal.

Together the women went into the silent house. Daisy met them at the front door. The golden retriever’s plumed tail wagged softly. After a quick doggy kiss on Theo’s hand, she stared at Vicky and backed away. Her eyes never left Vicky as she emitted a low rumble, not quite a growl. Theo was surprised. The golden retriever loved everyone.

“Get away from me.” Vicky kicked at Daisy.

The big dog snarled, displaying a formidable set of teeth. Theo feared Vicky would shoot the family pet, so she made soothing sounds and pushed her away. “Daisy, sit.”