Murder by Artifact (Five Star Mystery Series) (16 page)

Weak and fertile
, thought Tony. He viewed them with the fascination of a tabloid journalist. “Do your children all know each other?”

“No.” Sonny pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the steady stream of tears. “Doreen and Patti knew of each other, mostly by sight.”

As Tony watched them, sitting there, angry and mournful, he noticed Doreen was a much smaller and definitely female version of Sonny. Patti, too, had been a carbon copy. There were few signs that Doreen’s mother had contributed many genes to her appearance, except maybe the shopping gene. The nose, eyes, chin and even the ears were Sonny’s.

“And do they all resemble you, too?” Tony could only imagine the complications that could arise if a third half sister with the same face strolled through the doorway. An icy chill went down his spine at the thought. If his suspect pool had just doubled, a third sister would send it into the stratosphere.

Sonny’s eyes opened wide as he turned to look at Doreen. “I never realized.” His head moved slowly from side to side. “No. Only the two girls look alike.”

The frown contorting Mrs. Sonny’s face suggested the conversation would be better held outside her spitting distance. Tony escorted Sonny to the back of the church. Wade joined them, standing in the aisle where he could keep an eye on the rest of the players in the melodrama. “Tell me about Patti.”

“She lives in Chattanooga and has all her life. If it matters.”

“Married?”

“Widowed.” Sonny smoothed his silver hair and then stuck his shaking hands into his pants pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Her husband died maybe six months ago in a car accident. They never had children.” The tears fell more rapidly. “She really wanted children.”

Interviewing grieving people always seemed cruel to him. It was necessary. Tony needed a bit more information. “Did you have any idea Patti would be in Silersville at this time?”

Sony just shook his head.

“Did she visit Doreen very often?”

“Hell, no.” Sonny snapped to attention. “Doreen knew Patti, slightly, and wouldn’t give her the time of day. Patti was a sweet girl. Maybe she wasn’t super bright but she was a good person, much nicer than Doreen. Her mother did a good job raising her.”

“Where is her mother?” Tony became aware of the spicy, sweet scent of carnations wafting toward them. Somewhere in the church, a door or window must have just been opened or closed. He watched Doreen’s expression. The way her face tightened, he knew the aroma had not gone unnoticed by her. Queen Doreen looked ready to kill.

“Vivian—that is, Patti’s mother—died several years back. Breast cancer.” Sonny resumed his slumped posture. “Poor Patti. I was a lousy father, she had no kids, and lost her mother and husband too soon. And now,” he mumbled and waved toward the casket. “And now, the poor girl didn’t even get her own damned funeral.”

“When was the last time you saw Patti?” Wade asked.

Sonny looked thoughtful for a moment. “She came to my birthday party in April. It was a big celebration I threw for myself over in Asheville. Doreen and her mother went shopping in London. Cost me a fortune. Still, I figured it would be the only way I could see most of my kids.”

Tony followed Sonny’s gaze and saw Mrs. Sonny tapping her well-manicured fingers on the end of the pew. If anything, her expression had become even more malevolent. Some unshared thought brought on a sudden tightening of the woman’s flawless lips.

Extracting a pair of antacid tablets from his pocket, Tony slipped them both into his mouth. He might not like Sonny, but he certainly didn’t envy the man. He had a wretched family life. Sitting down to a family dinner must be like dining with jackals. “Who inherits when you die?”

Sonny stumbled slightly. For the first time, he looked up, meeting Tony’s eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m a good man, however, I do love all of my children. I’m leaving half to my wife. The rest will be evenly divided among all the kids.”

Tony nodded and made a note to find out later just how many kids would be involved in the division of Sonny’s estate and if one wanted a bigger cut than the others. One of the oldest motives in the world was greed, and one of the greediest families he could think of offhand was the Cochran clan. “You can go sit down.”

Sonny shuffled down the aisle and collapsed onto the pew next to his mother.

Bathsheba handed him a pile of lemon drops she pulled from her purse. “I guess we don’t get fed.” Her sour expression didn’t seem to have any connection to the candy.

“Mom,” said Sonny, “how can you think of food at a time like this?”

“I’m a-grieving, just like you.” The old lady shrugged. “I still lost a granddaughter. I’m just hungry, that’s all. You know Blossom Flowers always brings pecan caramel coffee cake to the funerals here. I had my heart set on it.”

Once Sonny was resettled on his end of the pew, Tony glanced at Doreen. Her eyes were bright and clear, her makeup flawless, the shining cap of white-blond hair seemed identical to her sister’s. He found it odd they should share a hairstyle when they appeared not to share their lives.

With a gesture, he invited her to join him and Wade in the back of the church. She flounced up the aisle like a sullen teenager and stood before him, her fists on her hips as she stared at his badge.

Tony pulled himself to his full height and waited.

Finally she looked up into his face.

“How long have you worn your hair in this style, Doreen?”

She fluffed her bangs. Diamonds and rubies sparkled on the hand arranging her hair. Tony noticed even more diamonds sparkling on her ears. He didn’t recall seeing any jewelry on the deceased. Of course, the only time he saw Patti was at the autopsy and moments ago in the casket.

“I had it cut like this just over a week ago.”

Her response surprised him because his thoughts had moved elsewhere. He had better pay strict attention to this group. “I don’t suppose you had it done in Chattanooga?”

Her lip curled, giving the impression she’d prefer to have a slug dropped down her blouse than be associated in any way with her half sister.

“If you mean do I share a stylist with her?” Doreen tipped her head very slightly in the direction of Patti’s coffin. “No. Prudence Sligar cuts my hair. I shop local when I can, and when she’s not messing with her pack of kids or telling fortunes, she is very capable.” She managed to make the compliment without choking.

Kids. He remembered a notation in the autopsy report he hadn’t wanted to ask Calvin about. Clearly, he should have. According to the report, the deceased had recently had a miscarriage. Tony had believed it would go beyond the bounds of callousness to ask a grieving husband about another grief. Doreen had to be about forty-five. Tony assumed the woman waited to conceive, whether by design or not. It was none of his business. At least not until now.

“When was the last time you saw your sister, Doreen?” Tony wasn’t surprised when his question was met with silence. “I can stand here as long as you can, maybe longer, because my shoes are comfortable.”

She glared at him. If he hadn’t already lost his hair, Doreen’s expression would have singed it right off. “I saw her about a month ago. I was down at the farm visiting Daddy. She left almost immediately, but I saw her checking me out.” The jewels twinkled again.

“Did you have this haircut?”

Doreen looked surprised, then confused. “No. I haven’t seen her since my hair was cut.”

Tony ushered Doreen back to her seat and beckoned to Calvin.

The mayor lurched to his feet and seemed to stagger as he plodded up the aisle to the front. “As God is my witness, Sheriff, I had no idea it wasn’t Doreen.” His voice lowered. “When you’re through with us here, is there any chance you can give me a head start? It would only take me a few minutes to put her things away. I didn’t pack much.”

A moment of irritation vanished, and Tony released him. He just couldn’t believe Calvin would kill the wrong woman. Or if he had, he would have realized it as soon as he checked the body. No way would he have packed her belongings with such open glee. Tony thought it was probably saving a life to send the mayor home early. “I can’t promise you more than twenty minutes. Someone from my office will drive Doreen home.”

“You’re the finest sheriff this county ever had.” Calvin jerked forward. The mayor looked like he wanted to fling himself to the floor and kiss Tony’s feet. He managed to right himself and bolted through the front doors as fast as his size-sixteen feet would carry him.

Once the door closed behind the tortured man, Tony beckoned for Doreen’s mother to join him and Wade.

Talking to Mrs. Sonny was a treat. He learned she did have a first name, Louise, a name too lyrical for the woman she’d grown to be. She was quite a piece of work. Tony found himself pitying Doreen and understanding Sonny’s wandering eye. Living with this woman had to be hell on earth. Doreen had had two choices growing up, total rebellion or total conformity.

Doreen chose to conform.

This woman couldn’t see any world beyond her own mirror. She, like her daughter, had bamboozled a man whom she could manipulate and who could afford to support her in the manner, or manor, she desired. Tony entertained himself with his pun for a moment before he realized the woman’s bright blue eyes focused on him. Her gaze could cut like a laser. He thought she could do surgery with a mere glance. Killing her husband’s extra children might be her entertainment.

“I don’t know why you people are making us stay here.” Mrs. Sonny’s words carried the whip of authority.

Tony didn’t respond to the challenge. “When was the last time you saw Doreen?”

“Sometime last week. I came up when she donated those family quilts to that silly little upstart museum.” She sniffed. “After all, they were only Cochran quilts. If they were quilts from my side of the family, I know she would have insisted on donating them to a finer museum.”

Like mud on her shoe, she dismissed his aunt and mother and their “upstart” museum. It took a lot of his reserves to keep from yelling and reminding her just who those women were. Just before he did anything rash, he decided she wasn’t worth his breath and tamped down his soaring temper. “And Patti?”

The Queen Mother’s spine straightened even more. She managed to look down her nose at him as if she’d stepped in something unpleasant. “I don’t socialize with her.”

“I don’t care if you socialize with her. I want to know when you last saw her.” Tony jabbed the air in front of her with his index finger. “I understand she comes out to the farm.”

“When she comes, I stay in my suite.” She spat her answer and didn’t wait to see if he had more questions before she spun away from him and stalked down the aisle. Barely slowing, she snatched her purse off the pew and sailed past Tony and Wade, slamming the door as she left the church.

Tony had to admire the quality of the doors and hinges the Baptists used. In spite of their ill treatment, the doors hadn’t cracked or fallen off. They were taking a boatload of abuse. He frowned at the paneled door. Mrs. Sonny hadn’t exactly answered his question. He wrote himself a note, detailing her evasiveness and lack of cooperation. She would have to talk to him.

So who did he have for suspects? Calvin, the husband who thought his marital problems were at an end. Mrs. Sonny, a proud woman whose husband continued to humiliate her and who was also a mother who hated what her daughter’s half sister stood for. Embarrassment. Doreen, the half sister who despised the victim. Bathsheba, a grandmother who was strong and feisty and who preferred the deceased granddaughter. Sonny, the father who preferred the illegitimate daughter.

Shakespeare could probably make something out of this group. As far as Tony was concerned, the sheriff of a county too small to have a town big enough to maintain a separate police force needed more to work with.

Wade stared at Mrs. Sonny’s departing back. “You want me to bring her back?”

Tony just shook his head.

Still half sick from the heat inside the church, Theo stood on the church lawn next to her mother-in-law and Martha. She watched Mike write the names of the attendees in his notebook. Like Theo, Mike would know everyone by name, if not better.

Theo struggled to suppress a giggle. Doreen might not be well liked but she couldn’t complain about attendance at her funeral.

It looked to her like the congregation had divided into two camps. One group talked about going home. The other half talked about going into the fellowship hall for the food. No sense letting a good ham and multiple side dishes go to waste.

From her post near the front doors, Theo watched Calvin fly from the church, dash to the street and jump into the gleaming white hearse. Half a second later, he made the first turn on two wheels. The hearse was almost airborne.

Not long after Calvin left, the Queen Mother stalked out, looking neither left nor right, and drove away in her Mercedes. She drove only slightly more slowly than Calvin.

Theo wished she could be a fly on the wall inside the church. Simple curiosity was eating her alive.

“You want anything to eat, Sugar?” Drawing her attention, Martha shifted the handle on her purse up higher on her shoulder. “I could use a tall sweet tea and a ham sandwich myself.”

“I’m not hungry right now. Go ahead. I’ll join you in a bit.” Theo took a deep breath, pushing away the last vestiges of faintness.

Theo watched Martha stride toward the door into the church hall. At least half of the congregation fell in behind her, following her like a flock of sparrows, too hungry to leave and too nervous to approach a new bird feeder without a leader. The sight of Parker Nelson dressed in his grubby overalls, holding the door for the equally casually garbed Nellie Pearl made Theo realize the food was the big draw at this funeral.

Not having to sit through the service obviously pleased the attendees.