Murder by Serpents (Five Star First Edition Mystery) (14 page)

Tony could hear Darren and Quentin in the hallway. “What I really need you to do is to get back to your fingerprint project. We need to get those prints out for identification. We know our body is in the system.” Tony's eyes returned to the photograph of the tattoos. “For the county to get its money's worth from all that expensive fingerprint training that you got from the FBI in Quantico, you need to get on it.”

Nodding, Wade left the office and Tony buzzed Ruth Ann. “Tell Darren to put Quentin in the greenhouse. He can either wait inside with him or stand outside and guard the door, but he is not to leave. I want him to stay for the interview.”

The crisp response from Ruth Ann informed him that Darren and Quentin had stopped into the interrogation room for a moment and then moved on to the drunk tank. Furthermore, she thought they should have gone there as soon as they entered the building and not bothered to pass near her desk. Quentin was obviously so high on whatever drug that he had been taking that it would be a long time before his orbit would bring him near the earth again.

Tony's stomach rumbled. Popping three more antacids into his mouth, he dialed the number for the drug task force. He had no idea how long this conversation might last. He would probably have to talk to the DEA as well. He had to let them know about the OxyContin, but more urgently, at least in his mind, he had to find out if Quentin was cooking methamphetamine up at his place. If so, someone trained by the DEA would have to come and deal with that. Dismantling a meth lab was extremely dangerous and specialized work that his tiny county couldn't begin to handle.

He doubted that Angelina would help with the process. He needed her out of Quentin's house. Maybe he could still catch Sheila and have her bring the woman back into town.

He reached for the telephone.

No one had to tell Tony that Blossom Flowers had a crush on him.

Theo once suggested that Blossom would love anyone who treated her like a real person and not like a slave. The beleaguered woman had lived at home for her entire thirty years, with all of the other Flowers issuing directives to her. Theo also said that Blossom worked as much for the freedom of being out of the house as she did for the money.

Tony agreed. Being nice to her paid off on this day when Blossom arrived at the Law Enforcement Center carrying a whole pie, freshly baked, just for him.

“What's the occasion, Blossom?” Tony had to step back so the large woman could squeeze through the doorway. Her scalp showed under the little flame-orange tufts of hair. He sympathized with her because, like him, she had almost no hair.

His mouth started watering the instant that he spied the crumb-coated pie. The scents of warm apples and cinnamon teased his nose and his stomach growled in response.

“I wanted to thank you.” Blossom started to set the pie on his desk but paused when she couldn't find a clear space on the whole surface.

“For what?” Why was she thanking him? Relieved that it didn't appear to be a bribe, Tony set a stack of folders on the floor, making room for the pie. He really wanted a piece of that fabulous pie. A big piece of it. After she left, he would take it to the lunchroom and share the rest. Maybe.

“For talking to Ruby.” Her protruding eyes filled with tears. “I really like that job and would hate to lose it.”

“There was never any problem with your job, Blossom. Ruby's only concern was for your safety. You should give yourself more credit.” Tony almost groaned when he saw her lower herself into one of the steel and vinyl chairs that faced his desk. She seemed to be settling in for a visit. “Do you get along with the others down there?”

“Oh, yeah, Miss Ruby is real nice to work for and Red always has a funny story to tell me. Even the waitresses are always saying that they get extra good tips from anyone who eats a bite of my pies or cakes.” A happy smile lifted the corners of her mouth, giving her plain face a pleasant glow.

Tony had talked to Red on several occasions and he had seemed like a nice enough man. Now that he knew his mother had gone on a date with him, Tony's curiosity grew. What separated Red from the other eligible men in town? “Tell me about Red.”

“Well, I guess his hair used to be red and that's how he got his name, but it looks all white to me.” At Tony's encouraging nod, she continued. “He's a foreigner, of course, and always sad, even when he's telling me a joke.”

Tony knew that Blossom's family considered anyone whose grandparents hadn't been born in Park County to be a foreigner. Tony knew about being a foreigner. His family hadn't moved to Tennessee until he was eight and his classmates had treated him, for a time, like he had arrived from another planet. Theo, a direct descendant of Amoes Siler, was not a foreigner. “Why do you think that Red is always sad?”

“It hasn't been too long since his wife died of the cancer, you know, and before that his daughter died. That's one of the reasons they moved up here, you know, getting away from the sadness.” She pawed around in her tote bag and finally located a box of Junior Mints. Pouring a mound onto her palm, she shoved the whole pile into her mouth. “He was retired, but now he's the morning cook. I don't quite know how you can be retired and still have to be at work, do you?”

Tony didn't want to discuss the philosophy of retirement. “Do you know what business he was in before he retired?” Tony had to fight to keep his eyes away from the pie. The aroma pulled him like a magnet.

Blossom shook her head, then stopped. “Wait.” A chocolate-flecked smile creased her face. “Yeah, he did say once that he was a bookkeeper or banker, something with letters.”

“CPA?” In Tony's eyes, the worn little man with the droopy, bloodshot eyes looked like an accountant. Whenever Tony saw him, everything about him seemed very tidy and precise. Only the grease smears on his old-fashioned bifocal glasses eluded his penchant for cleanliness.

“That's it.” Blossom cheered, half-rising from her seat.

The way she lifted up made Tony think of a game show contestant with the winning answer. Maybe she practiced cheering with the television. If Wade hadn't poked his head into the office, Blossom might have stayed the rest of the afternoon.

Until Tony saw Wade and Blossom side by side, in such close quarters, he hadn't really noticed before but the young deputy had the thickest black hair Tony had ever seen. He kept it cut close to the scalp, but instead of showing skin, it looked like a fur cap. It wasn't fair. Viewed next to Blossom's, her hair looked even sparser. As for himself, Tony could feel the movement of air on his scalp.

“Hey there, Blossom.” Wade gave her a big smile. “I hate to interrupt but I need to talk to you, Sheriff.” He waved a sheet of paper.

Blossom heaved herself to her feet and headed for the door. “When you finish the pie, just drop the pie plate at Ruby's. She knows I brought it over here.”

“Thanks again, Blossom, for the pie. In the future though, I want you to remember that I was just doing my job. Ruby never intended to fire you.” Lifting the pie from the desk, Tony followed her through the doorway and waited until she reached the end of the hall. Beckoning with his head, he signaled his deputy. “Come with me, Wade. You can tell me what you've got and have a slice of pie at the same time. Your expression tells me that I am going to enjoy both things.”

Wade passed him and walked backwards toward the lunchroom. “We've got a positive ID for the prints that were on that sardine can from the motel cabin.” Wade's dark blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “That same guy left a few of his fingerprints on the car, and they are similar to some partials on the drug containers.”

“Wonderful.” Tony pulled a couple of dinner plates from the cabinet and loaded them up with enormous slices of pie.

Wade didn't waste any time. The moment that he settled on a chair, he shoveled a huge bite of pie into his mouth. A moan of pleasure accompanied the aroma of apples. “That's so good.”

For a moment, work was forgotten as they both enjoyed the first pleasures of the dessert. “Okay, I can think now.” Tony grinned. “I thought I'd never get to taste it. Let's see who that fancy fingerprint education has turned up.”

Tony pulled the paper from underneath Wade's elbow and began to read it out loud. “Peter ‘Sammy’ Samson.” He studied the photographs. Sammy did not look like a handsome man. “My, my, looking at the length of this, I'm can see that Sammy has not been a good boy. Let's see what he has been doing in other states.” As he read, he ate slowly, savoring each delicious morsel.

Wade cleared his throat. “Care to share?”

“Didn't you read all this?” Tony watched Wade wielding his fork.

“Not all of it, just enough to see that it wasn't Quentin.” The skin at the corners of Wade's eyes creased with his smile. “I was so excited that I got a positive hit, I had to come and brag on myself.”

“Good job. I see that he has enjoyed room and board in both Texas and Georgia. Most of the charges seem to be related to burglary and drug possession.” As he chewed, Tony examined the photographs, full front and profile. Sammy's left eye looked normal but the right one appeared to be slightly crossed as it peered through a mop of tangled dark hair. A scruffy mustache covered his lips. “Not exactly a beauty, is he? Do you remember seeing him around town?”

“Nope, and I've already made copies of this for everyone. I said to be on the lookout for him.” Wade swallowed his last bite of pie and eyed the slices left in the pie pan. “Read on down to where it describes his tattoos. I did study that. Those ‘Hate' and ‘Kill' tattoos on his knuckles have to be prison tattoos. I'll bet you a dollar he and our mysterious Mr. Mize were in the same prison.”

“Could be,” Tony shrugged. “But those are not uncommon prison sentiments. The drug possession charges interest me a lot though. I am very curious about the current whereabouts of our new boy. When I talked to Kenneth with the drug task force, he said that those serial numbers on the Oxy match up with some bottles missing from a shipment in Kentucky.”

“So do you think this is a case of a falling out between business partners?”

“I have no clue. He's on parole, so contact Georgia and see what they know about his last knowns. They are not going to like hearing where we found his fingerprints.” Tony wanted to lick the plate but settled for scraping the last tiny bits with the side of his fork. “I don't suppose you have any more on Mize, Hub or whatever?”

“Not yet, but it takes longer if they are partials.”

The lunchroom shared dishes and appliances with the jail kitchen. Daffodil Flowers Smith, Blossom's oldest sister, cooked for the jail and ran a tight ship. She considered this her domain, her kitchen. Anyone who left a mess would hear about it and then be barred from the area. Respecting her rules both men put their plates and forks in the dishwasher. Then they checked that they hadn't made a mess on the table before they headed back to Tony's office.

“If I could have gotten a clear set from all five fingers on one hand, we would be done.” Obviously thinking about the process, Wade shivered and his face lost some of its color. Working with the distorted fingers was a singularly unpleasant duty.

The expression on his face made Tony grin. “Really enjoyed that, did you?” Wade's expression promised retribution, but before he could say a word, Tony's desk phone started ringing. His intercom and the cellular phone in his pocket joined in almost simultaneously. “What in the . . . ?” Tony pushed the intercom button as he reached for the tiny phone.

Wade lifted the receiver.

Ruth Ann's voice came through the intercom. “Theo's found a body.”

Theo's voice came through the cell phone. “I found a body.”

The receiver pressed to his head, Wade said, “We just heard. Theo's found a body.”

When Theo left Nina's house, she felt better. Her friend's spirits had revived in spite of the problems she suffered. Daniel's defection hurt, but Theo suspected that Nina didn't really miss him.

From Theo's standpoint, having Nina's help with the new patterns lifted a weight from her shoulders. She knew the quilt tops would be sewn soon and that they would be constructed perfectly. Nina's workmanship was superb. If Theo's pattern had an error in it, Nina would find the flaw and tell her all about it.

Theo inhaled, enjoying the hint of wood smoke coming from one of the other houses. Nina lived in one of the new homes built along the stream that flowed from the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. Only a few years earlier, the land had been part of the McMahan family farm, a farm that produced more brambles than it did anything else but children.

Seeing the vision of prosperity and determining that it exceeded the merits of tradition, Nina's father subdivided the farm into two-and three-acre lots. Individuals built large single-family homes within the first year. Old man McMahan kept the best lot for himself and gave the second best to his only daughter, Nina. In point of fact, the land and house still belonged to him.

What had chafed Daniel Crisp turned out to be a blessing for his wife. Nina's husband could not sell the house, nor could he make any kind of claim on the property. Even if she had no money, she would have a home.

Old man McMahan wanted to preserve as much of the natural beauty of the area as he could and still make a killing in the real estate market. To that end, he made plans for wilderness areas. He protected the plots by deeding them to the county. One of those formed a small, forested park in the very center of the little subdivision.

The redbud trees were just getting ready to start blooming. Drawn by their beauty, Theo wandered in and smiled to see the first magenta blossom unfurling. Everything pointed to this being an early spring. Checking for further signs, she looked under the trees for any early blooming flowers. Delighted when she spied a few early yellow violets, the blossoms just peeping through a layer of dead leaves, she knelt down. Brushing away a few of the damp leaves that clung to the petals so that she could admire the dainty yellow faces, it took her a few seconds to identify the human hand only inches away from her own. In contrast to her small, pale hand, the skin on the other looked like it had been freeze-dried.