Chili Con Corpses (6 page)

“Ah, Lindy?” he whispered. “Where is Mr. Sneed?”

She gave him a perplexed look. “Who?”

“Adam’s grandfather!” James twisted his neck in order to gain a view of the hallway outside the conference room. “Where is he?”

A flush sprouted on Lindy’s latte-hued cheeks and neck. “Good Lord! I forgot all about him!” She leaned in and whispered something to Chavez, whose black eyes sprang open in alarm.

Before anyone could discuss the matter any further, a policeman entered the room, removed his cap, and began to shake hands with the other officers. James found himself staring at the fortysomething officer. The man James assumed was Sergeant McClellan was easily the tallest man he had ever seen. As he greeted his law enforcement fellows, McClellan peered breezily over their shorter heads with a pair of wide blue eyes tinged with green and observed the civilians seated around the table. After clapping the officer nearest to James on the back with an enormous hand bearing inhumanly long fingers, the sergeant settled himself down at the head of the table and accepted a cup of coffee.

As he sipped, the room fell silent.

“Sweet mercy on me!” McClellan exclaimed in a deep but surprisingly soft voice. “This stuff is even worse than what we’ve got at the station. I did
not
think that was possible.” He pushed the cup away. “We’ll make this quick so y’all can get on back home. No doubt we’ll be speaking to each other again tomorrow,” he added. “For now, I’d like to speak to you one at a time.” He looked at James. “I believe you were the first adult on the scene, sir?”

James hesitated. The truth was that Lindy was there before him. “Um …” he stammered.

“Sergeant?” Lindy jumped in, raising her hand eagerly as if she were a student.

McClellan’s mouth twitched in what might have been a grin. “You don’t have to put your hand up. Ms. Perez, is it?” When Lindy nodded, he gestured at her to continue. “Did you want to say something?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I … we … just realized that one of the chaperones is missing.”

McClellan’s eyebrows rose as he shot a curious glance at the closest officer.

The local cop shrugged. “First we’ve heard of it, Sergeant.”

“I see,” McClellan responded emotionlessly. “And who is the missing person?”

“A Mr. Sneed,” Chavez answered. “He was the grandfather of one of the students on our field trip.”

“My men have done a full sweep of the caves, Sergeant,” one of the cops added quickly. “There’s no one down there. Just the body, sir.”

“Thank you, Ray.” McClellan opened a notebook and exposed the point of a black pen with a firm click. He studied James, Lindy, and Chavez and inquired, “When was Mr. Sneed last seen?”

Again Chavez took the lead. “Ms. Perez gave us all different sections of the cave to monitor. Mr. Sneed was asked to remain near the main staircase. We all moved deeper into the caves to take up our assigned areas around six thirty.”

“So none of you saw him after six thirty?”

James, Lindy, and Chavez all shook their heads.

McClellan looked at the guides. “Any of you see the older gentleman down in the caves during the course of the field trip?”

“He walked past my post a couple of times,” one of the female guides answered. “I was stationed kind of near the stairway, too, but I don’t think I saw him after the first fifteen minutes. It was my job to turn the lights on and off at seven, though, and I didn’t see him after that.”

“That means that six thirty is the last time that any of those present here saw Mr. Sneed.” McClellan made a note. He then sat thinking and as he did so, he tapped his pen against the side of his high forehead, leaving a peppering of black dashes on his skin. Finally, the pen ceased and he said, “We’ll have to check with the students and other chaperones as well.”

“I have a list of emergency numbers for all of the students who were with us,” Lindy said, pulling a file folder covered with rainbow stickers from her tote bag. “The number for Adam’s parents is the third one down. Maybe we should call them.”

“May I?” McClellan indicated the folder. Lindy slid it across the table and McClellan took it in his hands, eyeing the rainbow stickers with apparent amusement. Flipping the folder open, he found Adam Sneed’s name and contact information and quickly dialed the Sneed residence.

“Is this Terrance Sneed?” He waited for an affirmative reply. “This is Sergeant McClellan from the Virginia State Police.” He paused. “No, sir. Your son’s fine. He’s on his way back from Luray as we speak. Didn’t mean to alarm you, sir.” McClellan hesitated, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “Point of fact, I understand that Adam’s grandfather volunteered to be a chaperone for this excursion,” he began, but then a questioning voice on the other end of the phone caused McClellan to stop before he ever had a chance to ask his question. “I see,” he responded in a sober tone after a few seconds. “I’m sure there’s some misunderstanding. I hope I didn’t give you a scare, sir … Will do. Good night.”

McClellan snapped his cell phone closed and gazed, unseeing, at Lindy’s folder. He traced the arc of one of the rainbow stickers with an index finger that resembled a flesh-colored stick—long, skinny, and a bit gangly—and then cast his eyes around the room.

“Men, we’ve got a challenge set before us.” He pointed at Adam’s name on the list of students. “The man who claimed to be this boy’s grandfather is an imposter.”

Lindy gasped. McClellan swiveled his blue-green gaze in her direction. “Did he ever show you any ID, Ms. Perez?”

Flustered, Lindy bit down on her lip. “No. He met us at the restaurant, and I’d
never
think anyone would …”

“No, of course not,” McClellan reassured her hastily. “But did the man ever speak to Adam or did the boy acknowledge this older man as being his grandfather at all?”

Lindy hesitated. Avoiding the penetrating stare of Principal
Chavez, she sighed and said, “Mr. Sneed, or at least the man I
thought
was Mr. Sneed, told me that Adam wanted to keep space between them, as he didn’t think having his grandpa on a school outing was too hip.” She looked helplessly at McClellan. “It sounded just like Adam to say something so insensitive.” She shrugged. “So I let it go. And we needed an extra adult, so to be totally honest with you, Sergeant, I was glad to have him along, even if it meant letting his grandson get away with being rude.”

“Understood,” McClellan replied kindly. He then jabbed at Lindy’s folder with his finger and his brow drew together. His face clouded over with a combination of anger and determination. “Folks, the problem now is this: Adam Sneed’s grandparents are all dead, so none of them were here today. Somehow, someone found out this young man’s name and used it to be invited into these caverns with a group of young men and women. I don’t like that.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t like that at all.”

Without any warning, he suddenly slammed the flat of his palm against the table. James jumped in his chair and Lindy let loose a surprised whimper. McClellan stood, slowly, purposefully, and put his hands on his hips. He locked eyes with the other officers, and they straightened their shoulders and lifted their chins as they waited for him to give a command. “What I also don’t like is the notion that the man
pretending
to be Mr. Sneed—while he may not be anyone’s grandparent—may damned well be a murderer. Let’s get going, men. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Lindy darted a quick glance and then whispered to McClellan. “There’s something else you should know.”

“Yes?” The sergeant seemed impatient to get on with his investigation.

Throwing an anxious look at Chavez, Lindy was barely audible when she asked, “Can I confess something to you in private?”

McClellan nodded and indicated that his men should clear the room, along with the remaining citizens.

James was the last to leave and as the door closed behind him, he heard Lindy sigh. “I just wanted you to know that I threatened Parker’s sister the other night. I … I actually said that I’d kill her.”

The door shut on the rest of Lindy’s confession.

Once McClellan had
dismissed James, Lindy, and Principal Chavez, the weary threesome piled into James’s Bronco and rode back to Quincy’s Gap in a dazed silence. The mountains that swelled above them on both sides of the highway were a dark battleship gray beneath an opal moon. As the road wound over their shoulders, they seemed to emanate a sense of strength and endurance, causing James to think about how quickly a person’s life could suddenly end.

After mumbling a good-night to the others, James did not turn his truck toward home. Though he was tired, his unsettled mind replayed the discovery of Parker’s body over and over again like a film reel set on a loop.

James longed for some friendly but anonymous faces. He wanted the comforting din of background noise like outdated jukebox music or billiard balls being slapped together as they rolled across an expanse of green felt. Turning the truck south, James headed for the Woodrow Wilson Tavern, one of the county’s few drinking establishments.

Sammy, the proprietor, was at his usual place behind the oak bar, wiping a pint glass to a high shine with a dishtowel. When he saw James sit down at the far end of the bar, he tipped his
Made in the U.S.A.
baseball cap and raised his eyebrows in expectation.

“What’s on tap tonight?” James inquired in a low voice that belied his mood.

Sammy examined his patron’s face and then began stroking his gray mustache as he tried to decide which brew would serve his customer best.

“You look a bit drained, Professor, so I reckon you could use some Presidential Ale to perk you up some. It’s as full of flavors as some of them fancy wines.” Sammy scratched at his unruly sideburns, which he wore as a mark of admiration for the Confederate Civil War hero, General Joseph Johnston. Sammy had been copying Johnston’s image for as long as anyone could remember. It only required a Confederate uniform to complete the full transformation, and Sammy had at least two at home. In fact, he often closed his tavern to participate in reenactments and his clients were accustomed to arriving at the front door in hopes of a drink and finding a sheet of paper announcing the bar’s closure instead.

But Sammy’s eccentricities only enhanced the Wilson’s charm. It was the only place within fifty miles that served up special beers from local breweries, some of which were made especially for Sammy. Black and white photographs depicting the heroes and landmarks of the Old Dominion covered the walls, with the four Virginia-born presidents holding the place of honor above the bar.

“Which President is the beer named after this time?” James wondered. “Still serving up the Jefferson Amber Ale?”

Sammy began to fill a frosted pint glass. “No sir, we went through the Jefferson like a bear bingin’ before winter. This here is Woodrow Wilson Pale Ale, and it’ll set you straight.” Sammy placed the foaming cup on a coaster bearing the state flag of Virginia and slid the beverage under James’s chin. “You look like you’re carryin’ some weight this evenin’, so I’ll let you be. Just enjoy the Woodrow and give me a holler if you need somethin’.”

James nodded thankfully but knew he would never need to call upon Sammy. The man was the perfect bartender. No one’s cup ever ran dry without Sammy having a replacement prepared, and he didn’t stand and chat unless it was clear that his presence was wanted.

Sighing, James picked up the coaster and examined the state seal. Within the white circle set on a deep cobalt field, a helmeted woman dressed in a blue toga placed a conquering leg squarely in the middle of the chest of her defeated victim. He read the Latin motto,
Sic semper tyrannis
, but couldn’t remember what it meant. Holding the coaster aloft, he caught Sammy’s eye.

“What’s the English translation, Sammy?” he asked.

Along with his unique appearance, the barkeep was also famous for his knowledge of Virginia history. “It means ‘Thus always to tyrants.’” He pointed at the woman. “That there is Virtue and about the purtiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, too.” Sammy raised his eyebrows suggestively. “I wouldn’t mind seein’ her in a wet T-shirt contest, if you know what I mean.”

James realized that Sammy was referring to the fact that Virtue’s toga didn’t quite cover her breasts, leaving one entirely exposed. She gripped a tall spear in her right hand and held a sword in the other, looking like a triumphant Amazon warrior. “She’d kick your ass if she heard you say that,” James admonished Sammy, taking a deep pull of the pale ale.

The bartender grinned lasciviously. “Don’t I know it? And that makes me like her all the more.”

Ignoring Sammy, James drank more of his beer, savoring the taste of clean, crisp hops combined with a hint of banana and orange. “This is just what the doctor ordered,” James said gratefully.

“And you don’t need health insurance to be able to pay for it. Best medicine in the world, if you ask me.” Sammy retrieved James’s glass, even though it was only partially empty. “Lemme top you off, Professor.”

Something in Virtue’s determined countenance reminded James of Lucy. Feeling the need to unburden his troubled mind, he dialed her number at home and asked her to join him at the Wilson. Sounding groggy, she did not agree immediately. James then gave Lucy a brief account of what happened at the Caverns and hung up. Morosely, he sat wondering if she would have come if he hadn’t been directly involved in a murder case. He brooded and consumed three beers before Lucy arrived.

Lucy burst in the door and put her arms around James. She gave him a quick hug, a sisterly pat on the middle of his back, and then asked Sammy for a glass of water. Thanking him, she drank half of it within seconds. “I’m trying to drink a minimum of sixty-four ounces a day,” she explained. “Now,” her cornflower eyes glittered in a manner James hadn’t seen for months. “Tell me
everything
.”

As no one was seated anywhere nearby, James told her all he could remember, down to the smallest detail. He knew that Lucy would be interested in every facet of the evening’s events.

“Oh, I can’t believe I wasn’t there!” she exclaimed regretfully when he was finished. “I’m
so
bummed!”

“Why?” James asked with an edge to his voice. “Because now you’re not involved in the investigation?”

Lucy shrugged. “I might have been able to help the police if I had been there.”

“You
were
supposed to be there, Lucy. If you hadn’t felt such a pressing need to get to your exercise class …” he began angrily.

Lucy shot James an irritated look. “Then what? Lindy wouldn’t have needed to ask Kinsley for help and Parker would still be alive? Is that what you’re implying?”

“Well, you did ditch Lindy at the last second, Lucy.” He took a drink of beer. “Lately, it seems like you only have room for your classes and your strict diet and your job. What’s happened to the rest of us?”

Lucy traced tiny circles on the outside of her water glass. “I’m so close to making it as a deputy, James. Can’t you just support me? Lay off on the guilt a bit?”

“Support is a two-way street,” he replied, irked. “Every time we have a date, things are all about you. Where you can eat, what time you have to get to bed, how I’d better not come inside.” He finished his beer in two great gulps and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Exhaling, he asked Lucy the question he had wanted to ask her for months, finding that four beers had finally given him the courage to speak. “What’s the real reason, Lucy?”

She turned her blue-eyed gaze on him, clearly perplexed. “For what?”

“For why we’ve never taken our relationship to the next level. It kind of feels like you’re afraid your parents might come home and catch us or something.” He spoke the words rapidly, before he could chicken out. “I feel more and more like your buddy than a romantic partner. If you want to go down the
just friends
road, then tell me so, but I’ve had enough of this limbo. I don’t know what to think about us anymore!” All of the stresses of the past few hours boiled up inside of him, and he practically shouted the last phrase.

Lucy grabbed her purse and jumped out of her chair. James couldn’t help but notice how agile the movement was and how her clothes seemed too big on her ever-shrinking body. Above all, he was aware of the haggardness of her face. Was Lucy pushing herself beyond her limit?

“Fine, James!” she spat. “If getting me into bed is all you want, then we’re better off as friends.” She tugged on her shirt, setting it to rest over her hips. It was a motion she habitually repeated when she was upset.

Anger flared inside of James’s chest. “It’s
not
all I think about, but it’s a natural progression! It’s what people do when they’re a couple!
Why
don’t you want us to move forward?” he demanded, throwing a twenty on the bar for Sammy.

“Not all people have to have sex to enjoy a fulfilling romantic relationship, James. There are still couples who wait until they’re married.”

The term “married” hovered over their heads like a cloud of noisy bees. Lucy seemed to regret having uttered it and James tried to pretend that she hadn’t. One failed marriage was enough. If he were to ever stand in front of the altar again, he would have no doubts about the future of him and his bride. Right now, when it came to Lucy, all James had were doubts. Had he missed some clue over the past months regarding Lucy’s feelings on their physical interactions? He didn’t think her chastity was based on religious reasons—she didn’t even go to church. Was he still too fat to be viewed as attractive? James turned away from his reflection in the bar’s horizontal mirror.

He had never been so confused about a woman before.

James dug his index fingers into his temple, where a headache had sprouted and was boring deeper and deeper into his skull. He groaned as the pain increased. Unbidden, a vision of the ugly red and purple welts around Parker’s throat entered his mind and he shoved his arms into his coat. It was time to retreat to the silence of his bedroom and escape in the fantastical realms of one of his books.

“That word scared you good, didn’t it?” Lucy laughed harshly with no trace of humor. “Such a typical man. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned any kind of a long-term commitment.”

“I don’t have anything against long-term commitments, Lucy.” James sighed. “But we haven’t exactly been happy together lately, so how can I be thinking about the future? The only thing we’ve done well as a couple recently is argue.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Now it’s clear how you feel about me!” Lucy shrugged on her own coat and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Fine then! We’re done with dating. And since I won’t be going to the next Fix ’n Freeze class, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” Lucy turned and marched out the door.

Sammy came over to collect the empty glasses. He lifted a coaster and showed James the image of Virtue. “I can see a resemblance between those two women.” He chuckled. “And I think you’re lookin’ an awful lot like this guy here with a woman’s foot stompin’ on his chest.”

“Thanks a lot, Sammy.” James ripped the coaster from the barkeep’s hand and stormed out of the Wilson, muttering to himself as the realization of what had just happened sank in. He was unexpectedly, unhappily single again.

“TGIF, Professor,” Scott said the next morning at work. “And no offense, but you look like you could use the upcoming weekend to rest.”

“Look, the next
Dune
book is out—it’s part of the prequel trilogy by Frank Herbert’s son, Brian,” Francis chimed in, gazing at the hardcover in his hand with a kind of rapture. “I’ll let you check it out instead of me, if you think it might keep your mind off …” He seemed at a loss for words.