The Battered Body (25 page)

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Willow lately.” Milla’s eyes flashed defiantly. “I cannot see that girl hitting Chase with a shovel and pushing him off a cliff over a month’s salary.”

“Do you have alibis for the three ladies?” Lindy asked Lucy.

“Naturally,” Lucy’s tone was scornful. “They were all getting dressed for the ash scattering. Both the hotel maid and the front desk clerk saw Chloe and Wheezie heading out to Chloe’s rental car, but no one in Willow’s apartment complex noticed her or her car, which is a pretty nondescript compact.”

Milla reached over and grabbed Lucy’s hand. “Willow was in the bed-and-breakfast when Paulette died. She knew how much my sister liked eggnog. One of her jobs was to do errands for Paulette, including grocery shopping. And now you’re saying that she can’t prove where she was this morning?” Milla was clearly distraught. “Despite how things look, I just can’t believe she’s capable of violence …”

“There are many layers to a human being,” Gillian replied softly.

“So what’s her motive? Revenge?” Lindy asked. “Paulette dumped on her one time too many, so after murdering her, Willow gets a taste for it and bumps off Chase next?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Why would she risk her fresh start in Quincy’s Gap? She seemed to be really happy lately.” She turned to James. “You saw her at the firehouse the other night. I noticed she and Francis are getting pretty cozy, and the girl’s talked to everyone who’ll listen about Quincy’s Whimsies. Why would she kill Chase?”

“That’s a good point. She’s become very optimistic,” Milla agreed. “Why, just yesterday she found out that one of the lawyer’s offices downtown is coming up for lease. It’s the perfect size and location for our store, and Willow scheduled a meeting with the building owner for a week from now. She’s pretty sure that’s where we’ll open our doors in a month or two. Does that sound like a murderer?”

Bennett frowned. “It could be an example of that arrogant confidence Lucy talked about. She’s planning her future because she doesn’t think she’ll get caught.”

Lucy cradled her coffee cup between her palms as the rest of the group fell silent, each of them trying to imagine Willow as a murderer.

“Is Paulette’s case officially being reopened?” James inquired.

“Just by me,” Lucy answered tiredly. “There’s no new evidence regarding her case, and this one will keep us all busy. If Chase hadn’t been thrown from the car, we wouldn’t even know about the head wound, but the killer forgot to put his seatbelt on and that’s the only lucky break we’ve had.”

“Ain’t like that shovel’s gonna be easy to find,” Jackson spoke for the first time. “Every Tom, Dick, and Harry’s got at least one. Snow shovels, garden shovels, shovels to use for cleaning the crap out of animal stalls …”

Lucy nodded in agreement. “The park rangers will search the area surrounding the overlook, but the killer could have tossed it in a lake for all we know. No, finding the shovel won’t be how we crack this case. I think the answer lies in the motive. Chase became an extremely wealthy man because of Paulette’s death, but who stood to gain by his abrupt ending?”

“His wife?” Milla guessed.

“We won’t know until we see his will, but I’ve had the opportunity to view Paulette’s, and
hers
contained an interesting clause.” Lucy paused dramatically. “If anything were to happen to Chase, then the profits from Paulette’s estate would go to Chloe, not to Chase’s wife and children.”

“And Chloe’s in desperate need of money!” James exclaimed, and then grew thoughtful. “But she has a solid alibi for this morning, so unless she was working with someone all along …”

Lindy’s eyes widened. “Like Willow?”

“It’s possible,” Lucy conceded. “Still, there’s no evidence against either woman. These ideas we’re tossing out,” she gestured around the table, “are all circumstantial.”

James glanced at the grim faces of his friends. Noting the resigned slump of Milla’s shoulders, he sighed. “What can we do?”

“We can outsmart the killer!” Lucy shouted, startling everyone. “Look at us! We’ve brought wicked people to justice before, and we’re not going to back down now!” She lowered her voice. “I know this case is tough, but I will
not
have this person or persons get the better of us. I won’t stand for it.
This
is
our
town.”

Rephrasing his previous question so that it formed a statement, James said, “Tell us what to do.”

“Go back to the days preceding Paulette’s death,” she commanded. “I want a timeline of everything she did, every place she went, every person she insulted.” Lucy gave Milla an imploring look. “Can you do that?”

“Of course, dear,” Milla answered without hesitation.

“The key to this riddle lies with Paulette’s death. I’m sure of it.” Lucy put her palm over her heart. “I
feel
it. Once James, Jackson, and Milla finish that timeline, the rest of you are going to be my foot soldiers. You’re going to get every ounce of gossip, hearsay, or eyewitness accounts regarding Paulette’s movements before she was poisoned. Are you willing to be relentless in pursuing the truth?”

“Oh, yes! Your passion is
absolutely
inspiring!” Gillian seized Lucy’s hand.

“This isn’t passion. This is anger,” Lucy answered heatedly. “I missed something the first time, and my mistake has cost Chase Martin his life. I didn’t like him. I doubt that many people did, but did he
deserve
to have his head bashed in, to be pushed off a cliff ?”

“No one deserves such an end,” Milla whispered.

“Exactly!” Lucy raised her voice again. “And we’re running out of time! We can only detain Chloe and Wheezie for so long. I believe Chase knew the person who killed him. I think he was mighty surprised to see a shovel in that person’s hands. But who did he meet on that overlook? Why did he get there early? I need to know what we missed in Paulette’s case that can answer those questions.”

James and Milla exchanged determined looks. “We’ll start right now,” he vowed.

“And we’ll clean up the kitchen!” Gillian offered and pulled on Bennett’s arm. “Let’s go, mister. You’re on wash detail.”

Spluttering, Bennett followed in her wake as Lindy collected dishes from the table.

James fetched a notebook from his work bag, poured himself a large mug of coffee, and prepared for a late night. “I’m ready,” he told Lucy. “Let’s find that piece of the puzzle and end this thing for good.”

In spite of
how late he, Milla, and Jackson had stayed up the night before, James was alert and animated at work the following day. His Realtor had called just as he was turning on the lights in his office, asking if the closing could be moved up to that evening. It seemed the sellers wanted to attend a friend’s birthday party on the afternoon it had originally been scheduled and would be eternally grateful if James were willing to take ownership of the house a few days early.

“I’ve already contacted the attorney and he’s available,” Joan pressed when James didn’t answer right away. “But if it’s a financial issue, then we can certainly wait until next week. It’s your call, Mr. Henry.”

The check he planned to write to cover the down payment and the first month’s mortgage would nearly wipe out his savings, yet James had never been so excited about spending such a large chunk of money at once. “It’s no problem. I’m just digesting the thought that I can move in sooner than I thought. I can be at your office by six.”

“Splendid. We can order Chinese takeout,” Joan suggested and then reluctantly added, “My treat.”

Throughout the morning, James dreamed about his little yellow house. Before the day was spent, he’d hold in his hand the keys to 27 Hickory Hill Lane. After all these years living in his boyhood room, the most charming home in all of the Shenandoah Valley would belong to him.

“You’ve got a sparkle in your eye this morning, Professor,” Scott commented as he passed by James’s office with the reshelving cart. “Francis and I figured that after what happened to Milla’s nephew, you might be feeling kind of gloomy.”

“I’m closing on my new house tonight,” James explained, and he picked up the day’s edition of the
Star
. He showed Scott the front-page photograph of the mangled rental car being hauled up the cliff edge by a mammoth crane. “It’s not that we aren’t all upset by the …
accident
,” he said, for lack of a better word. “But we’ve got a plan to help the Sheriff’s Department find out who did this.” James stared solemnly at the photograph. “You and Francis reminded me that we didn’t need to stand around and wait to see if any clue emerged. We’re on the hunt for whoever did this.”

“We knew you would be,” Scott answered faithfully, and he moved off to organize the disheveled children’s section.

Lucy phoned a few minutes before noon and asked James if he was free for lunch. “I’m not offering anything fancy,” she said. “Just sandwiches from KFC. We’ll be eating in the car.”

“That’s fine.” James was curious. “Does this outing have anything to do with the outline of events we made last night?”

“Yes. It might not lead anywhere, but I’m going to investigate every angle. See you in ten minutes.”

James spent the small chunk of time trying to avoid a book club that met between eleven and twelve once a month. Its members were comprised of middle-aged women who took over the magazine section for the meeting and always held passionate discussions about every book pick.

For the month of January, they had chosen to read
The Body in the Bakery
, and every one of them had pre-ordered the novel from Amazon.com. Because he had no desire to hear more unpleasant details about himself or the rest of the supper club members as they were depicted in Murphy’s book, James hid in his office, pretending to answer e-mails.

At 11:58, as he put his coat on and headed for the lobby, James found himself bombarded by questions from the book club members, who literally chased him out the front door in their quest to have their curiosity sated. James couldn’t remember ever being so relieved by the sight of the dirty, cluttered passenger seat inside Lucy’s blue Jeep.

“Is it true, Ms. Hanover?” One of the women shouted as James climbed into the car. “Did you and Professor Henry talk over the Brinkley Myers murder case
in bed
?”

Lucy gave the woman her fiercest scowl. “That
book
is
fiction
, Mrs. Wright.
Fiction
means that it’s a made-up story, kind of like ‘Cinderella’ or
Pretty Woman
. If you have questions about what Ms. Alistair wrote, why don’t you send
her
an e-mail? In fact, why don’t you all send her a note? Maybe
you
can be in her next book!”

“What a great idea!” Mrs. Wright trilled, and she rushed back to the library steps to share Lucy’s recommendation with her group.

James looked over at Lucy and smiled, visualizing the women stampeding to the group of computers in the Tech Corner. “Nicely done. I’ll have to remember that one. After all, Murphy created this mess, so why shouldn’t
she
be the one to deal with the readers?”

“Exactly. Now eat your honey barbecue chicken sandwich. It won’t take us long to get to the goat farm.”

After unwrapping his sandwich from its cocoon of aluminum foil and inspecting it with happy anticipation, James spread a napkin across his lap and took a hungry bite. “Hmm,” he murmured appreciatively. “Is this the farm where Milla was going to buy her wedding favors?”

Lucy nodded and began to eat her sandwich, holding it in her right hand as she drove with her left. James was impressed that she didn’t allow any pieces of barbecued chicken to dribble out of the sandwich. His napkin was already littered with a dozen bits of red-tinged meat.

By the time they drove out of town, she had finished her lunch. It was a good thing too, because Lucy needed both hands to maneuver the Jeep over the winding, mountainous roads. Consulting a few lines of directions she had written on a piece of scrap paper, Lucy turned off the two-lane highway onto a dirt road. The Jeep made its way up an unpaved, rambling drive until James felt as though they were either lost or had driven right into West Virginia. Finally, the ground leveled off and a rusty tin sign that hung from an equally rusty mailbox indicated that they had reached the Cornflower Goat Farm.

“Cornflower. Like your eyes,” James remarked as he gestured at the sign.

Lucy blushed and seemed on the verge of speaking when they saw a man appear around the corner of the main house, which was a two-story log cabin with a picturesque front porch. A pair of dogs trailed after him, barking defensively at the sight of the Jeep. The canines had cream-colored coats and tan markings as well as dark muzzles and flashes of white teeth. The man put a reassuring hand on the back of the closest dog and waved at James and Lucy.

“What beautiful dogs!” Lucy exclaimed as she slammed her door shut. “Are they shepherds?”

The man nodded. “Anatolian shepherds. Best livestock guard dogs in the world. This here’s Knight and the smaller gal is Lady. My daughter named ’em.” He held out a weathered, calloused hand. “I’m Kyle Mills. How can I help you folks?”

Lucy began by praising the goat’s milk soap and lotion Milla had purchased in December and then casually asked Kyle if he remembered Milla and Paulette’s visit to the farm.

“Sure don’t, ma’am.” Kyle scratched Knight between the ears until the dog’s pink tongue unrolled sideways out of his smiling mouth. “I’ve owed the missus a vacation for nigh on ten years now, and she said if I didn’t get her someplace warm for Christmas, I could go huntin’ for a new wife.” He gestured behind him at the rustic barn, the rectangular cement building James assumed was used to create and package the goat’s milk products, and the vast stretch of pastureland. “Farmers don’t get much time off. I got one kid, but she’s at college and has got her sights set on bein’ a nurse,” he added with pride. “I hire some local boys to lend a hand now and then, but I couldn’t leave for a month without some real help ’round here.”

“Sounds like you found someone suitable,” Lucy prodded.

Kyle grinned. “Seems like the answer to my prayers dropped right out of the sky. That boy we got
could take care of animals and customers. He even showed me how to get my wares on the computer. Made back every dollar I spent takin’ the missus ’round the state of Texas. Anyhow, Russ’d be the one who helped your lady friends.”

“Could we speak to him about maybe ordering more favors?” Lucy inquired. “We’ll only need a few minutes of his time.”

Lady walked over to James and sniffed his shoes. Obviously deciding that he was not a threat to her or to Kyle, she stuck her wet nose against the palm of his hand and gazed up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. James rewarded her friendliness by stroking the soft fur on the back of her neck.

“I wouldn’t mind, ma’am, but Russ ain’t here.” Kyle looked sorry to disappoint them. “He needed to run on back home for a week or so.”

“He’s not from these parts, I take it,” James stated.

“No sir. He’s got one heck of a long ride back to Natchez.”

James did his best not to lean over and nudge Lucy. Natchez! This couldn’t be a coincidence. Wheezie, Paulette, and Milla had grown up in Natchez. Now this young man, Russ, who possessed both the physical hardiness to run a goat farm and the mental acuity to create an online business for his employer, had suddenly disappeared.

Lucy shot James the briefest glance, but in her eyes he saw a familiar, predatory glimmer. “Milla was so thrilled with the goat’s milk products she bought from your farm that I believe she’d like to stock your products in her new gift store, Quincy’s Whimsies.”

“That’d be just swell.” Kyle beamed, his weathered face crinkling in pleasure.

“She may also want to carry local food products, like homegrown eggs. Do you have chickens here too?”

Kyle seemed surprised by the question. “Funny you should mention that, ma’am. Russ wanted to experiment with raising some layin’ hens, so he built a coop and bought the birds and feed outta his own pocket.” The farmer ruffled the fur on Knight’s back as he spoke. “Guess it didn’t work so well, though. Them chickens all got sick and Russ scrapped the whole notion. Whole pen was gone ’fore I even got home. I don’t mind though,” he confessed. “Young man’s got a right to flex his muscles, but I’m relieved he’s back to focusin’ on the goats. He’s real good with them, and I’m not overly fond of chickens myself. Damn birds stink in the summertime.”

Acting as natural as possible, Lucy checked her watch. “Well, our lunch break is nearly done. We’d best be getting back to work. James, why don’t you take down contact information for Mr. Mills and his assistant, Russ … ?” She turned to Kyle. “What is the young man’s last name?”

“DuPont,” the farmer answered. “Russ DuPont.”

James pulled out Dr. Ruth’s business card from his wallet, flipped it over, and wrote down the phone number for the Cornflower Goat Farm
.
Handing the farmer one of his own cards, he shook the calloused hand once again. “Please call as soon as Russ has returned, and we’ll talk about placing regular orders for the shop.”

“Will do.” Kyle whistled softly out of the side of his mouth and Lady sprang from James’s side and crashed against Knight in excitement. “Walk up!” he commanded, and the shepherds bounded away toward a fenced pasture behind the barn.

As James and Lucy headed back to the Jeep, Lucy paused to gaze around the farm. James followed her lead, assuming she was looking for where Russ lived. There was a sprawling pasture behind the barn, but the area surrounding the main house was embraced by trees.

“Maybe he stayed in their guest room,” James suggested. Squinting, he thought he saw a break in the trees. “Is that a path?” He pointed to the right of the house.

Shielding her eyes from the winter sunlight, Lucy nodded. “Come on. We’ve got to check this out while we’re here.”