TheCart Before the Corpse (30 page)

“Motive?”

“Maybe they argued about my visit. If Hiram had promised him a share in this place, then reneged . . . He hit Hiram when his back was turned, then tried to make it look like an accident. Case closed.” I turned away so they couldn’t see that I was on the verge of tears. More and more I believed my visit caused Hiram’s death. I just didn’t know how, but that didn’t make me feel any less guilty.

“Evidence?”

“That’s
your
problem. Now, I have a horse and driver to coach.”

The rest of the day was busy, but uneventful. Peggy drove Heinzie and the Meadowbrook down to the road and back three times with Don Qui tagging along.

“We’ll have to take him with us Sunday,” Peggy said as we rinsed Heinzie off.

“We will look like idiots.”

“Everyone will think it’s cute and that we planned it that way.”

“No, they will think
I
am an idiot who can’t separate a Friesian from a donkey. I do have a reputation to protect, you know.”

“We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

“By the time Dick Fitzgibbons arrives on Saturday, the decision had better be made.”

I had finally persuaded Peggy to let me stay in the stable with Don Qui on Thursday morning, while she drove Heinzie down to the road and back a couple of times. She still refused to try the vis-à-vis alone on those curves. I didn’t try to force her. Dick was an expert driver, and Heinzie was his horse. With him along, they’d do fine on Easter, with or without Don Qui.

On top of driving Heinzie, Peggy’s friend Louise Sawyer had asked to bring her pair of Bouviers out mid-morning, even though we didn’t have sheep or goats for them to herd.

“She likes to let them run free when she can,” Peggy said. “They’re lovely dogs now that they have a job to do.”

“Will they herd the horses? If they try, they may get kicked.”

“Not if Louise tells them not to. They’re very obedient.”

When they climbed out of the back seat, I could see they were actually larger than Don Qui. The giant, blue-gray pair romped off joyfully toward the back of the pasture the minute their mistress, Louise, let them off their leads. After five minutes or so, she blew a whistle. Both dogs stopped as though they’d hit the end of a leash, turned and galloped back to her as fast as they’d left and sat at her feet with their stubby little tails wiggling their entire bodies. She gave them a treat each and scratched behind their pointed little ears.

Louise released them again. This time they investigated the stable with their noses to the ground and their sterns in the air.

“I’d love to learn to drive,” Louise said. “Could the dogs be trained to ride with me?”

“Sure, although from the size of them, you’d need fair-sized carriage and probably at least a Morgan to pull it with. Or you might train them to run alongside. They’re too tall to trot under the carriage like Dalmatians, but they seem to have plenty of stamina.”

“More than I do, unfortunately,” Louise said. “Although I’ve dropped ten pounds since we started herding classes. A carriage would be the perfect compromise.”

The larger of the two dogs trotted out of the stable and headed for the back of the barn, then veered left around the corner.

“Uh-oh, he’s headed for the manure pile,” I said. His buddy trotted after him.

Louise whistled. The dogs ignored her. I have always requested that my clients leave their pet dogs at home when they come for lessons. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone say, “But he never does that at home,” I wouldn’t need to work again. Louise clapped, and called, “Come back here, you imps.”

The dogs had disappeared around the corner. “Oh, dear, they’ll be filthy. I am so sorry,” Louise said. “I can’t understand why . . . ”

We followed. They’d stink up the back of Louise’s van on the way home, but that was
her
problem.

As we rounded the barn, we could see both dogs digging madly into the manure and growling as they went.

“Digging out a rat,” I said. “They can smell him in there even if we can’t.” I walked over to them. “Drop it.”

The magic words. They sat back on their haunches and looked up at me expectantly, obviously proud of what they were doing. They’d dug a considerable hole in the pile, but it would be easy enough to fill in with the front loader. “Come on,” I said and turned away.

The larger dog barked once, but neither of them made a move to obey. “Call your dogs,” I said to Louise, who stood at the edge of the pile. She obviously didn’t want to wade in manure and shavings.

She clapped and called. They both barked this time, but didn’t move.

I reached over to hook my hand in the collar of the nearest dog to start him moving. I was prepared to give way if he snapped at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he braced his full weight against me and yanked me off my feet. I landed on my stomach with my hand still hooked in his collar.

“Oh, my God,” I whispered, and scrambled back.

“He bit you?” Louise asked. “I can’t believe . . . ”

“Get their leashes and shut them in a stall,” I said as I stood up. “Call Amos Royden. Tell him the dogs just found Jacob Yoder.”

Chapter 30

Tuesday

Geoff

This time Geoff had a real crime scene to investigate, although the sheriff tried to take the case from him. “It’s not in Mossy Creek proper,” he said. “So it’s my jurisdiction and not Royden’s.” He stared down at Yoder’s body, still face down where Merry Abbott had discovered him. The back of his head was a pulpy mess. Flies were already landing in droves.

“We settled this already over Lackland. Same place, different body,” Geoff answered. “This isn’t the primary crime scene. He wasn’t killed where he fell. Not enough blood.”

“You don’t think the killer asked him politely to step into the center of the manure pile so he could beat his head in?”

Geoff ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll be grateful for your assistance, Sheriff. I don’t have any techies up here.”

“Techies? Who the hell has techies? I need to process evidence, I send it down to you folks.”

Geoff spread his hands. “See? Works out fine. I’m just cutting out the middle man. I’ll take pictures and collect evidence, then send it down to my office in Atlanta.”

“Had to be that Abbott woman did it,” the sheriff grumped. “Didn’t have none of this mess ‘til she showed up. Nice peaceful county. Don’t know what Governor Bigelow’s gonna say about this. Ought to arrest her right this minute.”

He should have known Sheriff Campbell would go for the easiest solution. “We don’t even know precisely how or when the man was killed. I’d hold off on arresting anyone.”

“Sure as shootin’ didn’t dig hisself into the manure pile and suffocate.”

Geoff had to keep his temper, but it wasn’t easy. Sheriff Campbell might be a good enough lawman to keep the governor’s county quiet, but this was beyond him. “Probably flattish and broad-surfaced with a sharp edge.”

“Like a manure shovel?” asked a young woman deputy. Both men turned to look at the object in her gloved hands. “I found it in the wash rack. Looks like it’s been scrubbed recently.”

“See? I told you that woman done it,” the sheriff said.

“Sheriff, the man weighed one-seventy or one-eighty. The killer had to move the body, dig a hole big enough to shove him into, and cover the whole thing up.”

“Woman’s big and strong.” He sounded sulky.

“Why would she kill him?”

“Easy. He saw her kill her father and tried to blackmail her.”

“Sheriff,” said another deputy. “Medical examiner’s office called. Can we bring them the body now?”

“Heck, why not? Dig it out and carry it to town.” The sheriff ran his hand over his bald head and turned to Geoff. “I’m leaving this in your hands. You better make an arrest soon or I’m calling the governor to personally to kick your butt off this case and tell Amos Royden to git the hell out of my territory.” He stomped to his squad car.

Geoff found the three women sitting in the stable on fresh bales of hay brought in from the storage shed behind the stable. The dogs lay asleep at Louise’s feet, but the moment Geoff walked arrived, they stared at him in silent reproach. He had taken their toy away from them. He loved dogs, but occasionally their priorities disturbed him.

“When can I leave?” Louise asked. “I have to take them to Blackshear’s to have them scrubbed and their teeth cleaned. Then I need the inside of my van detailed before I take them home.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about any of this.”

“Neither does anyone else, Ms Sawyer.” He scratched the ears of the nearest dog. “However, in a sense they’re heroes. We might not have found Mr. Yoder’s body for quite a while buried under that manure pile. The dogs could pick up the scent. I doubt humans could.”

“How long has he been there?” Merry asked. He didn’t think she’d been this shaken over her father’s death, but then she hadn’t been working around a corpse for a couple of days without realizing it. “I can’t believe I actually dumped fresh manure on top . . . I may be sick.” She clapped one hand over her mouth and the other across her stomach.

“Put your head between your knees,” he said. “As to how long he’s been dead, we won’t know for certain until the medical examiner tells us. My guess is Sunday evening after you and Peggy left, although it could have happened early Monday morning before you arrived.”

“So he didn’t run away,” Peggy said. “In a weird way, that’s a comfort.”

“Not to him,” Merry whispered. “Sheriff wanted to arrest me, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“No evidence and a good alibi. You’d hardly have let those dogs roam loose if you knew you had a dead body around.”

“I might not have thought they could smell it.” She gave a convulsive shudder.

“You ever fox hunt?” he asked.

She frowned up at him. “Of course.”

“Then you know how well dogs can smell.” He said to Louise, “Mrs. Sawyer, you and your dogs can go. Call Sandi and make an appointment to come by the station tomorrow to give Mutt your statement.”

“Shouldn’t I stay with them?” she asked and gestured toward Peggy and Merry.

“We’ll be fine,” Peggy said. “Go on, Louise.”

“I’m so sorry,” Merry said.

“It’s not
your
fault. I still want to drive after this is over with.”

The dogs fell in behind her as she left the stable for her van. Geoff called, “Please don’t talk to anyone about this, Mrs. Sawyer.”

“I intend to tell my husband, but no one else. I promise.”

He watched her out of sight down the driveway. She drove very slowly as though still shaky.

“I may have to buy you a couple of cheap chairs from Wal-Mart in self defense,” Geoff said. He moved a bale of hay into the aisle and sat down across from the two women.

Before he spoke, the pretty young deputy stuck her head in the stable door. “Agent Wheeler, I think you maybe need to see this.”

“Stay,” he said to the two women, and followed her outside and around to the parking area at the front door of the barn.

“This gravel doesn’t take tire tracks,” she said, “but sometime since it rained on Friday a vehicle drove over the edge and onto the grass for a couple of feet.”

He squatted to look at the tracks. “Tires look worn,” he said. “Mrs. Sawyer’s tires are nearly new.”

“Tread doesn’t match either Mrs. Abbott’s or Mrs. Caldwell’s vehicle, or the big diesel truck.”

“Check Yoder’s truck over by his trailer. He may have driven up here.”

“Already did, sir,” she said and flashed him a broad smile. His treads are worn, but they’re a different pattern.”

If she was looking to make points, she was doing an excellent job.

“Take a cast, then get on the net and see if you can identify make, model and year.”

“Yes
sir
. Right away, sir.”

“Mrs. Abbott has taught some lessons since Friday afternoon. I’ll get a list of her students. We’ll have to check their cars as well.”

“Of course, sir.” She looked crestfallen. She was undoubtedly hoping he’d tell her that she’d identified the killer’s vehicle and caught him red-handed. Police work was not that easy. She’d learn soon enough that it was generally a matter of checking and rechecking and half the time finding nothing usable.

He found the two women sitting where he’d left them. They had leaned their heads against the stall behind them with their eyes closed. For the first time, Peggy looked her age, and there were dark circles under Merry’s eyes.

He sat. “Either of you kill him? You could have done it together and alibied each other.”

Both women sat up. “Why would you ask a dumb question like that?” Merry snapped. “No, we did not kill him. I
needed
him.”

“Even if you found out he killed your father?”

“If I’d found that out, I’d have called you and told you to haul his sorry butt out of here. If he did, it was voluntary manslaughter, not first-degree murder. He got mad and snapped. There can’t have been any long range planning involved.”

“At his age and with his record, that wouldn’t have made much difference. Any sentence would have been a life sentence.”

“When he disappeared, I felt certain he’d done it,” Peggy said. “But now . . . ”

He waited.

“He was sneaky and not too smart. He knew something or found out something, tried to make a buck out of it, and whoever he tried killed him.”

“You agree?” he asked Merry.

“What could he have known? If he didn’t kill my father, he wasn’t here when it happened.”

“You didn’t go into his trailer at all?”

“I stood in the door and watched you and Amos. That’s the closest I ever came to going inside.”

“We already have your prints. Yours too, Mrs. Caldwell. We’ll have to check against the ones we find in the trailer.”

“Check away,” Peggy said. “You think somebody killed him in his trailer and dragged him all the way over here to bury him?”

He hesitated. He wasn’t in the habit of offering information, but this time he thought he might be justified. “We’re pretty certain his trailer was searched.”

“His door was locked when I tried it.”