Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable Page 12

  “My wife's a diabetic and has to monitor her meals and eat on a schedule.” Carl Lee wrapped an arm around her slender waist.

  She nodded. “It's not usually such an issue, but yesterday I needed to leave. A little breeze would have helped a lot.”

  “What's this about?” Carl Lee's attorney radar must have signaled him again.

  “Harrison Ragsdale.”

  “That man!” Jill's eyes flashed with anger. “I'm sure he killed my cat. Carl Lee thinks he ran over her like he was trying to do it.” When her husband squeezed her gently, she went quiet but shook her head, her fury still evident.

  “Ragsdale's dead.” Tony watched for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

  Jill smiled.

  Wade looked up from his notebook. “What time was it when he ran into you?”

  “Close to one-fifteen. We were on the way out.”

  While Wade wrote the information in his notebook, Tony said, “I don't suppose you're his lawyer or know if he has a will?”

  Carl Lee laughed. “The man was never a client of mine. I'd be surprised if he buys anything local. What happened?” Carl Lee looked directly into Tony's eyes. “He was alive when we left. He bumped into us as we were trying to make our way to the parking area. Almost knocked me over and spilled Jill's diet drink all over her shirt.”

  Tony saw the cola stain on her T-shirt. “Are those the clothes you wore yesterday?”

  “Just the shirt. I decided that as long as it was dirty I'd wear it while I do some work in the flowerbeds before church. It's much too pretty a day to stay inside.”

  “Thank you.” Tony believed the couple and was relieved to finish their interview and cross them off one list. “I just have to verify who was where.”

  Tony and Wade drove to the university and tracked down Orlando Espinoza. The dapper little man sat at a library table, a newspaper spread before him. When Tony approached, Espinoza tipped his chin down and looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Sheriff?”

  The man's snotty attitude raised Tony's hackles. What did his aunt see in him? “You left the festival rather abruptly yesterday.”

  “Yes.”

  If possible, the man managed to convey even less personal warmth than before.

  “Would you care to tell me why?”

  “No.” Espinoza tightened his lips making his mustache quiver.

  “If you prefer I can take you back to Silersville with me. You can call an attorney, and then the two of you can decide what your next move might be.” Tony was just irritated enough to do it, and it must have shown.

  “There was someone there with whom I did not wish to speak.”

  Tony gripped his pen a little tighter, pretending it was Espinoza's throat. “Whom?”

  “Mr. Ragsdale.”

  “Ah,” Tony drawled the word, giving it several extra syllables. “And why not just avoid the man? Why leave?”

  “Because, he's a nasty worm, and Martha was busy, so I left.” Some of the fight went out of him. “It's all because of Martha. You know, some women were born to be the cause of duels. Can I be faulted for finding her worth dying for?”

  “And Ragsdale?”

  “The pig! He said he'd kill me if he ever found me within ten feet of your aunt. He not agree to my offer of duel.” Mr. Espinoza pressed both hands to his heart, his fingernails looked sharp but not clawlike. “That man carries a gun and a cane he swings like club. I no match for him if not in fair duel. Martha busy. I leave.”

  Tony wasn't sure if Espinoza knew of Ragsdale's demise. In his agitation though, his flawless English clearly had certainly developed a few cracks. “What time did you leave?”

  “Why these questions?” Espinoza's face flushed and a fine bead of sweat formed at his hairline. “I dislike you.”

  A glance around the area showed no one close enough to overhear the conversation. “I dislike you too. I wasn't fond of Mr. Ragsdale, but I will find out why he died even if I have to haul your sorry butt out of here in handcuffs and shackles.”

  “Died?” Espinoza withered, deflating like a leaky balloon. “I left at half past two.”

  Wade drove them back to Silersville. “Did you have any idea Harrison was duel level interested in your aunt?”

  “No.” Tony felt a bit dazed. “I wonder if she knew.”

  “I think your aunt is a wonderful woman,” Wade's voice trickled off.

  “I do too, but fighting a duel over her? In this day and time, that's a bit unusual.” Tony coughed. “Assuming what he says is the truth.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  Wade's eyes were covered by very dark sunglasses, but Tony would swear he saw them sparkle with merriment. “I think what you're saying is that you want to be there when I tell her.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wade bobbed his head. “I would enjoy seeing her reaction. A lot.”

  Minutes later they were ushered into her kitchen. In Tony's opinion, Martha's kitchen was one of the great places to visit. It was warm and full of light. It wasn't homey and worn like the kitchen in his and Theo's house, a combination kitchen and family room. Now that Gus had remodeled it, Martha's kitchen was also a very efficient place for her to cook and entertain guests. Her house had a living room, but he doubted he'd ever sat on one of her chairs or the plush sofa.

  Martha poured coffee into mugs for him and Wade and set them on the table along with some brownies and cookies Tony was sure she'd bought at the festival. “Eat first, then talk.”

  “Have you talked to Mr. Espinoza since he left the Ramp Festival?” Tony spoke around the chunk of walnut in his mouth.

  “No.” Martha sighed heavily and pulled the corner off of her cookie and nibbled it. “I don't understand why he left so early. I thought he was having fun.”

  Next to him, Wade choked on a crumb. Tony glared at his deputy. “Drink your coffee.”

  “What's going on?” Martha didn't believe in beating around the bush. “You two are acting like some of my freshman English students.”

  Tony sighed. “How would you describe your relationship with Harrison Ragsdale?”

  “Hairy Rags? We didn't have a ‘relationship.’ I detested the man. He was like some creepy movie villain who crawled out of caves and turned into a werewolf.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly, obviously trying to calm herself. “I did receive a few anonymous letters that I'm pretty sure he wrote. They were all, ‘I've worshipped you from afar for too long.’ Or ‘When I think of you, I'm transported to heaven.’ ”

  “Hmm, lovely.” Tony scribbled more notes. “So were you impressed?”

  “Do you still have the letters?” said Wade.

  “No, to both of you. I'm telling you, having an admirer like him did not make me happy. I can't count the number of times I would see his truck and take evasive action to get home or wherever I was going.”

  “And contacting your favorite nephew, the sheriff of this fair county, didn't fit into your plans?” Tony tried a stern look.

  Instead of acting contrite, Martha handed him a cookie. “Honestly, Tony? I did think of it but I had no proof that it was him sending the letters, and I certainly didn't think he was doing anything illegal.” She crumbled her own cookie into tiny bits. “At first, it was kind of fun to have a secret admirer. Only as time went along it didn't seem like so much fun, and then it felt creepy and I had no proof it was him, and then I just hoped it would stop and he would magically go ‘poof’ and vanish.”

  “I'd say having someone stab him with a wooden stake was something less than magical but certainly efficient.” Tony picked another cookie from the plate.

  “Is that what happened to him? He was stabbed?” Martha looked horrified. “What an awful way to die. I thought it was the potato.”

  Wade cleared his throat, looked at Tony for permission, and set his brownie on the napkin. “That's not exactly what happened.” He paused to gather his thoughts for a minute and started again. “The actual cause of his death has no
t been established.”

  “Maybe you'll find that there was a whole gang of people who wanted to do away with him.” Martha tried a smile but failed. “A potato and a wooden stake and what? Maybe a plastic spoon?”

  “Really not funny, Martha.” Tony leaned forward and patted her shoulder. “I know you're shocked by all this, but I believe at least two men were vying for your heart. What's to say there aren't more?”

  “Is that why I can't get a date to take me to the movies? Honestly, Tony, I'm not the hot ticket around here that Blossom is.”

  “On that subject,” said Wade, “who was the man Blossom was dancing with? Grace was drooling on my shoulder while she watched them. Don't you think a newlywed should have a bit more self-control?”

  Tony couldn't help himself. He started laughing. The idea of Wade's wife preferring to look at some other guy while dancing with the man once voted “Most Gorgeous” in the Park County charity election tickled his funny bone. It was in the same election where he himself received the most votes for “Best Bald Head.” The more Tony thought about it, the funnier it struck him. Martha evidently agreed, because she was in semi-hysterics. Then she developed the hiccups. Tony howled.

  Wade simply sat and stared at the two of them while he drank his coffee and finished a thick, chewy brownie. A gleam of apparent satisfaction lit his dark blue eyes. The eyes once rated, “Best of Show.”

  “As for the handsome one, Jane calls him Doctor Looks-so-good. He's a dentist friend of Berry's. You might suggest Grace have her teeth cleaned if she wants a close-up view.” Martha managed to blurt out the whole sentence before succumbing to the giggles again.

  Waiting on his desk when Tony returned to his office was a photograph of the crumpled cars and a note from Sheila: “Although Mr. Brown continues to claim that he was on the property and no accident occurred, I have learned from sources who wish to remain anonymous (and I don't blame them) they saw Angus Farquhar ram into the damaged vehicles with his truck. According to these sources, he appeared to rev the engine up and charge toward the vehicle in front of him and make a slight steering adjustment before doing the same in reverse.”

  Tony could have happily lived the rest of his life without seeing, talking to, or smelling Angus again. He could order Sheila to confront the man, but wouldn't. Sheila could handle Angus if she needed to, but why force the issue. At the very least, he'd send two male deputies with her. In truth, Angus was mean, ugly, and potentially very dangerous. Tony himself preferred having a partner when they visited.

  Wade came into his office while he was considering the Angus problem, and Tony showed him Sheila's note. Wade's eyes narrowed and the muscles in his cheeks grew noticeably tighter. “I've seen her handle big and angry men, drunk or sober, with ease—but Angus is different—whether from hate or fear, she gives him a wide berth.”

  Tony silently agreed. “Can you imagine growing up in the Farquhar family?”

  “I'd rather not.” Wade leaned against the door frame. “You'd have to either become just like them or turn your back on them like his sister did. By the time she died, I'd guess there were few people who knew of their family relationship.”

  “Is his brother still at the penitentiary in Nashville?” Tony dreaded the day the vicious man was released.

  “Yes, thank the Lord.” Wade straightened. “He made Angus seem quite polite and refined.”

  Tony didn't disagree. “Those nephews ought to be sent to join their father. I know of many people, including my aunt, who tried and failed, to change the path they followed. They are going to kill someone eventually.” Tony hoped he was wrong. “I want to pay Angus a visit, and you get to come too. Get your heavy vest; he's always surrounded with an arsenal.”

  Mumbling under his breath as he left Tony's office, Wade looked and sounded less than enthusiastic about the planned trip up the mountain to Angus's home. Tony thought he heard the deputy threaten to resign, but shrugged it off as an echo of his own desires.

  A half hour later Tony and Wade arrived in Tony's Blazer, careful to park it where Angus would have trouble hitting it with either his truck or a bullet. Wade stuck the bullhorn out the window. “Angus Farquhar. This is Deputy Wade Claybough. Sheriff Abernathy and I are here to talk.” He glanced at Tony. “I feel dumb.”

  Tony couldn't disagree. He also knew it was a bad idea to sneak up on Angus. Angus definitely preferred to shoot first and check to see who his visitor might have been later. Tony took the bullhorn and stepped out, staying behind the vehicle. “Angus?”

  “Come on up, Sheriff.” The voice was slurred. “I hope you brought the pretty deputy.”

  Tony didn't answer but trudged up the path with Wade on his heels. In the clearing in front of Angus's cabin sat the most miserable looking pickup in the history of vehicles. After the ceremonial greeting with Angus, they walked about the truck, giving it a cursory examination. The peeling paint was accentuated by a series of bullet holes. There didn't appear to be any extra damage to the front end, but it was protected by a dented steel grid, like the surface of an old barbeque grill. The rear bumper didn't have a square inch of undented surface.

  As seemed to be his habit, Angus sat on the porch steps in his undershorts. An arsenal of guns rested on the warped wood next to a bottle of whiskey. He scratched his big pink belly and watched them, his piggy eyes not blinking. He lifted the bottle. “Drink?”

  Wade shook his head.

  Tony said, “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Angus took a deep swig from the bottle.

  “There was an accident in the parking lot near the museum.” Tony watched. No reaction. “Someone thought they saw your truck involved in it.”

  “Do tell.” Angus spat into the dirt, barely missing Tony's feet. “Boys?” He pounded on the warped wooden frame surrounding the door behind him. “Get out here.”

  It took a few minutes, but finally the Farquhars' three “darlin” boys joined their uncle. Jocko, Geordie, and Shawn were Angus's brother's boys. Each was dumber and meaner than the other. Lined up behind Angus, they created a truly menacing appearance.

  Tony didn't take his eyes off them, but he heard Wade quietly giving a running commentary through his radio to the dispatch desk. If they were gunned down, someone would know what had happened.

  Angus said, “Any of you boys know about an accident with my truck? At the mus-ee-um?”

  With the precision of long practice, the three spoke in almost perfect unison. “No accident.”

  Tony realized they were not denying the actions, just the intent. Without an impartial witness, his knowledge was useless. He could arrest them, but they'd get away with it. A glance in Wade's direction verified his thoughts.

  “I haven't seen you boys around town lately.” Tony knew he was fishing without bait, but he guessed they were behind the recent outbreak of burglaries. “Been off visiting the city?”

  “What's it to you?” said the one in the middle of the line. Tony studied a little patch of whiskers on his chin, or rather on his neck about where his chin would be if it merged with his Adam's apple.

  Tony tried a shrug and hoped he could maintain a casual attitude. What he really wanted to do was grab the little snot and put him in a dark hole. “Just curious.” He didn't expect an answer but asked anyway. “Which one are you? Jocko, Shawn, or Geordie?”

  “Geordie.”

  Surprised he'd answered, Tony asked the one on the left the same question.

  “I'm Shawn.”

  Tony nodded and started to turn away.

  “Don't you want to know my name?” The third brother's eyes flashed with anger.

  “Nope,” Tony said. “You're Jocko.”

  “How'd you know?” Jocko's nasal voice came through the trees.

  Tony kept walking, climbed into the Blazer and sat staring at the Farquhar estate. He let out a big sigh and turned the ignition key. Next to him, Wade couldn't seem to stop laughing.

  As they drove back down to Silersvil
le, Wade finally managed to control himself. “Do you think Jocko's figured out yet how you knew his name?”

  “Sheriff?” Doc Nash's voice poured into his ear. “I'm calling about the scratch marks on your victim's neck.”

  Tony leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess, you think he was clawed by a bear? Everyone is still looking for Baby.”

  “I hope you find Baby for Roscoe's sake. The man has become quite enamored with her and frankly, I'd like to examine her claws just for fun, but you're wrong.” The doctor sounded positively genial. “I love being the one bearing—no pun intended—the news.”

  “So what are they from?” Tony reached for the pen and notepad on his desk.

  “If I'm right they're definitely human. This is just a guess, but the idea came to me over lunch. You'll need confirmation from the pathologist doing the autopsy.”

  Tony remembered the narrow furrows dug deeply into the flesh of Ragsdale's neck. Tony studied his own fingernails, pretending to scratch himself. If he dug hard enough to draw blood, they would leave wider and shallower marks. Maybe Ragsdale had encountered a woman with smaller hands and longer nails. “Are you thinking they'll find nail polish?”

  “Nope. Not a woman.” The doctor's attitude had gone past “genial” and he suddenly began laughing out loud. A real gut buster. “Give up?”

  “Yes.” Tony's imagination failed him, and it made him a little surly. “If you can quit laughing long enough to tell me, I'd love to know.”

  “A male musician who files the fingernails on his pickin' hand to a point. It's not everyone's manicure of choice, but I've seen some like it.” Doc Nash cleared his throat. “Nor is it the most savory looking manicure.”

  Now that the doctor described it, Tony remembered seeing someone at the festival with fingernails matching his description. A male musician whose partner was a woman. Tony would be able to get the name from his aunt or mother. His initial elation over having a clue shattered with the reality of talking to those two women. “Thanks, Doc, I'll follow up on your clue as soon as possible.”