The Litter of the Law (5 page)

“Joshua Hill, graduated from Tech in 1998. Accounting major. Worked for a large firm in Richmond for four years, then hung out his own shingle in Farmville, where he quickly built up a large clientele. Unmarried. Hobbies: fly-fishing, country music concerts.”

“How did you get so much information so quickly?”

“Caitlin did,” said Coop, referring to one of the criminologists on the staff, a fantastic researcher. “She went online, got the 1998 yearbook, and started looking. Even though our victim was torn
up, we had a decent description of height, weight, approximate age, and hair color, and she narrowed it down to a few possibilities. Then she started calling places where the potential matchups worked. Josh didn’t come into his office on Friday, nor did he call, which his assistant found odd but she wasn’t overly concerned. I’m going down there Tuesday. Haven’t seen Farmville in a long time, and I hear Longwood University has grown. It’s a pretty school.”

“Yes, it is.” Harry paused. “Accountants don’t get themselves murdered too often, do they?”

“No. This is a curious case.”

“Who’s the date?” Harry just had to know.

“Barry Betz, new batting coach for UVA. First year here. This guy has the sweetest smile. He lights up a room.”

“Hope it’s fun. I’d go out with him just because of his name.” Harry smiled. “Thanks for calling me.”

Fair walked in, clean, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. When he sat down, she told him about Josh, the dead accountant.

“Maybe he was cooking the books,” said Fair, after devouring half of the Cornish hen Harry had cooked for dinner.

“If that’s a motive, wouldn’t there be so many more dead people in America, especially in certain professions and industries?” she remarked, gazing at him across the table.

“You’ve got a point there.” Fair was feeling better and so was Tucker, wedged between his slippered feet.

“Sometimes I think about why people commit crimes, not the impulsive ones but the premeditated kind,” Harry said. “I bet once you’re free from society’s rules or an ideology, anything is possible. The world is your oyster.”

“Never thought of it that way.” He stopped for a second. “This hen is wonderful.”

“Oh, thanks. Miranda’s recipe.” Harry knew any recipe from
Miranda would be delicious. “It’s kind of like offense and defense. The criminal is the offense, so that split-second advantage is his. He knows what he will do. The law has to react.”

She neglected to add that the law could only react if they knew what was going on.

“I
ought to arrest you, throw the book at you!” Cooper shouted at Harry two days later, on the street outside Joshua Hill’s office in Farmville.

“For what?”

“Stalking?”

“I came to shop. You have no grounds for suspicion.”

The attractive police officer shook her head. “Harry, how can you look in the mirror after a lie like that?”

“Farmville is famous for its furniture warehouses. I especially like Number 9, so named since all the warehouses had numbers on the outside, easy to see. And come on, Coop, you know I’ve been wanting to get down here for months. It’s been one thing after another.”

Calmed down a bit, Cooper replied, “You didn’t have to come today. You want to know what I found out at Hill’s office, and it was a big zero.”

“His assistant wouldn’t talk?”

“No.” The lean woman put her elbows on the hood of her unmarked car, called a slicktop. “She kind of just answers the phone. She has a million pictures of her grandchildren on her desk. It’s fair to say she isn’t overly involved in her work.”

“But she did note that her boss hadn’t called in?”

“Yes, but she also said a lot of times he worked at home, or he called on clients at their offices.”

“Did she give you a client list?”

“Harry!”

“Hey, you wouldn’t be on this case if I hadn’t found the body.” Though she knew this wasn’t one hundred percent true, Harry still pressed her point. “And murder is a lot more exciting than picking up drunk frat boys who then puke all over the back of your squad car.”

“No drunk has ever puked in my car.”

“Now who’s the liar?”

Cooper took out her service revolver. “I put this to their temple, and tell them if they throw up in my car, I will blow their brains out.”

“I can see how that might work.”

“One time,” the cop mused, “I had to pull over ’cause a guy pretended he was going to be sick, and then he ran into the woods.”

“What did you do?”

“Followed until he tripped and fell. It was pitch-black. Then he threw up. Drunks are truly disgusting.”

“Mmm. Anything of interest in Hill’s office?”

“You enter into a small waiting room. There are a few nature prints, both there and in his office. His desk didn’t have a single paper on it. I’ll get the Prince Edward County Sheriff’s Office to go over it all.” Cooper gave out just enough information to tease Harry.

“You’d think an accountant would have piles of papers on his desk,” said Harry.

“Or some, anyway,” Coop agreed. “Though clients send so much stuff through email.”

“Was his computer in the office?”

“Yes. Obviously, I can’t take it without jumping through all the proper legal hoops, but I’ve already set that in motion. A forensic accountant could find out if Hill was doing anything suspicious. Anything you put into a computer can be dug out. Best to not put it there in the first place. Of course, I don’t know that this murder has anything to do with numbers. Truth is, I don’t know what this murder is about at all. Usually, I get a hunch.”

“Don’t you want to know what I found in Number 9 warehouse?”

Cooper gave her a sharp look. “If you did find something, you’ll complain about the price.”

“Follow me.”

Harry climbed back in her Volvo station wagon. She’d parked outside Hill’s office once she’d cruised through her favorite warehouse so her excuse for being in Farmville wouldn’t be a total fib.

“Why should I follow you to see furniture?”

“Cooper, please follow me.”

Something in Harry’s voice made Cooper close the door to the slicktop, turn the key, and tag behind her neighbor.

Once at the warehouse, Harry opened the showroom door for Cooper. “Ready?”

Cooper stepped inside and stood a moment. “This place is huge.”

“Four big floors, I think. But what I want you to see is right here on the first floor, the flashy showroom floor.”

Briskly walking, Harry reached the middle of the cavernous building. Pumpkins, mums, and Halloween witches overhead all drew attention to a stunning country kitchen with a solid oak table, easily seating twelve.

“Look.”

Cooper followed Harry’s forefinger to a figure in the corner of
the display room, among ghosts, more pumpkins, and little goblins popping out of the pumpkins.

“Jesus.” The officer whistled.

In the middle of this lively display was a scarecrow with a drab undershirt, old pants with a rope belt, worn-out work boots, the sole separating from the left one. A straw hat topped it off. An exact replica of Joshua Hill.

S
quares of fabric and seed catalogues littered Cooper’s desk at police headquarters. Peering at her computer screen, she scanned a list of clothing manufacturers.

Eyes watering, she clicked off her computer, got up, stretched, and went outside. She tapped out a long coffin nail, lit it, watched the sky shift colors.

Sometimes taking a smoke break cleared her mind. Along with an increased chance of lung cancer, she’d get better ideas. After a few thoughtful minutes, she ground out the stub, walked back in, tidied up her desk, and left for the day. She’d worked overtime this Tuesday but didn’t mind.

Driving home, she noticed the last of the day birds returning to their nests. A few bats were already out and about. She liked bats; they kept the bug population down.

Thinking about bugs and pests snapped Coop back to this strange scarecrow case. After Harry had pointed out the unsettling look-alike dummy, Coop had sent her on her way, then had gone to the store’s office and asked to see their display person. In Coop’s mother’s day, that individual would have been called a window dresser regardless of what part of the store they decorated.

The display person was named Melinda and the young lady worked in the store full-time. Well groomed, well spoken, she was well dressed, good-looking.

Cooper was good at relaxing people. She sat the light-blonde-haired woman down in the middle of one of her own displays. After a bit of chitchat, she asked Melinda about the scarecrow.

“Don’t you love the boots?” she gushed. “They aren’t as easy to find as you might think and …” She trailed off. “Sorry. I get enthusiastic about these things.”

“No, no, that’s fine. But did you work with anyone else on that particular display?”

“No. I do all the work here in Number 9. The guys help me move the furniture but that’s it. Actually, I like that I can let my imagination go.”

“Would you have any way of knowing if someone asked specifically about that scarecrow?”

“No. No one asked me, but, Officer Cooper, there’s a great volume of foot traffic through these warehouses, especially on the weekends. People come from all over Virginia, even from out of state. Lots of volume.”

“Did you have any particular inspiration for the clothing?”

The young lady thought for a moment. “No. I mean, just the scarecrows I saw as a child.” She grinned. “Can’t be a scarecrow without a big straw hat.”

“Would you mind giving me a list of where you bought the pants, the shirt, the boots, and the hat?”

“Not at all. If you wait a minute, I can print it out for you.” Melinda hurried to her office, returning to Cooper in ten minutes, just enough time for the deputy to see an end table she wanted.

“Thank you,” Cooper said as she quickly perused the list Melinda had given her. “I guess anyone could buy this clothing.”

“That’s the idea.” Melinda smiled.

Cooper smiled back. “I won’t take up much more of your time. Did you know Joshua Hill?”

“No.”

“Do you live in Farmville?”

“No. I live on the eastern edge of Buckingham County and drive in. I’d like to move down here when I can afford it. May I ask you a question? What’s this about?”

“Friday, October 11, Josh Hill, who had an accounting business near here, was murdered in Albemarle County. His dead body was found on Saturday. It was a big football weekend. Didn’t make the front page of the papers until Monday.”

“That’s horrible.”

“He was dressed just like your scarecrow here.”

Melinda’s eyes popped. “How awful.”

“Well, yes, but it must have been a lot of work to dress him up, I would think.”

Melinda paused. “The straw man took me about an hour to get all the clothes on, then make a head, paint on features. He’s not exactly scary or gruesome. I mean, a scarecrow isn’t, but I think a human one would be awful. I wish I could help you, but anyone could have come in and seen my scarecrow, and the clothing isn’t unique or anything.”

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Cooper handed her her card. “If you should think of something or if someone as to come in here and seem really focused on your display, let me know.”

“I will.”

Later, Cooper replayed that conversation. She felt the young woman was telling the truth. It had been a shot in the dark, but that’s what she did. Lots of shots in the dark, lots of scraps of paper, old receipts, chewing gum wrappers, computer records, if
she could get them. The endless gathering of data, most of it useless. But it only takes one perfect clue to point you in the right direction.

After being sent home, Harry drove leisurely through Dillwyn, then west through Scottsville on Route 6. At Route 151 she turned right, right again on Route 250 to head home to Crozet. The late afternoon sun’s magical light enhanced every field and stone wall, even those raggedy few gas stations on the way.

Tuesday, October 15, was just a gorgeous day, the kind that makes one forget the suffocating heat of summer or the soon-to-come frigid winter days.

Hester Martin’s stand stood up ahead, decorated even more lavishly than usual. Two farm trucks were unloading produce and there stood Hester, in witch’s costume, directing the men. Next to Hester a well-groomed black mini schnauzer kept an eye on the men.