Murder by Serpents (Five Star First Edition Mystery) (9 page)

“Well, how would you expect me to know? It's not like I keep track of my neighbors.” The crotchety old lady cast a venomous glare at a young woman, who let a snort of dissension escape. “It's always going too fast.”

“So who's the dead man?”

“Don't know his name but I can tell you that he's a foreigner.”

Theo knew that only meant that he hadn't been born in the county. It didn't mean that he came from any place more exotic than the next closest town.

She stepped behind the cutting table. Maybe they would sell enough fabric today to make up for the orders that the computer lost.

The backup wizard had worked late into the previous night. He managed to get the system up and running, but so far hadn't been able to restore all of the files.

Jamie and Chris called to tell her that they would be at a friend's house. That was fine with Theo. They had their own area in the studio, but playing with a friend was better.

After a long afternoon, she closed the shop at the regular time and walked to the house.

Tony dragged his body over the threshold. It had been a long day, and he felt more like he expected to feel at eighty—and he wasn't even forty. He paused in the narrow foyer of their old house. To his left, he could see Daisy, the family golden retriever, sleeping upside down on the living room couch, her front paws folded against her chest. Gravity pulled her lips away from a formidable set of teeth. She snored softly.

Following the sound of voices, he took two steps down a short hallway toward the kitchen. The large room doubled as the family room. A pair of recliners faced the dark red brick wall that held both a raised fireplace hearth and the television. A sturdy rectangular table separated the family area from the cooking area. An old wood-burning stove shared another brick wall with the electric range.

Theo believed that comfort and history should win all decorating decisions. Small quilts hung on the walls, side by side with family photographs.

When he approached the room, he saw that near the television, Theo was trying to separate six-year-old Jamie and almost eight-year-old Chris. From his vantage point, it looked like Jamie might be winning the battle but if Tony read his wife's expression correctly, the little boy was about to lose the war. Rather than get involved in the dispute, Tony backed away and went upstairs.

Their house had the distinction of being the oldest brick house in Park County. It actually belonged to his wife. Theo had inherited it upon the death of her grandfather who had been a direct descendant of Amoes Siler, the town's founding father.

It had undergone frequent remodeling and additions over the last two hundred years or so. One enterprising family member had decided that the large sash window in the master bedroom was big enough to climb through. He constructed a narrow, private veranda just under the window. The base of it rested on the roof of the true veranda. Barely large enough for a pair of chairs and a tiny table, Tony loved it. It was almost as much fun as a tree house. Tonight it felt like an escape, like running away, as he climbed through the window and settled onto a sagging wicker rocking chair. Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes.

On any normal evening, he would lock his gun in the downstairs safe and change clothes as soon as he returned home. Tonight he believed that would take more energy than he possessed. He hadn't decided whether or not to wear his uniform when he left to attend the evening service at the Church of the Divine Revelation. Knowing the way news traveled through Silersville, all of the members of the congregation should already know about Mize's death. There might not even be anyone in attendance tonight at the motel office. Those thoughts brought up the question of what his mother and aunt wanted with the old motel.

Using his cell phone, he dialed his mother's number. Her voice on the machine chirped, telling him to leave a message. He didn't bother, but sat back gazing out at the community that he'd promised to protect.

Relaxing in the soft darkness of evening, he thought that everything in his little town looked so peaceful. In the park across the road, the trees were preparing for spring, coming back to life. Tony could almost smell the changes in the air. Soon the magnolias, redbuds and the remaining ancient oaks would provide welcome shade. A stand of dogwoods grew directly across the street from their house. In only a couple of weeks, the small trees would be covered with clouds of pale pink blossoms. So far these trees had not succumbed to the deadly anthracnose that had started decimating dogwoods several years ago, moving like the plague through the area.

In the cultivated flowerbeds, the tulip bulbs were sprouting. The Park County Garden Club, in a joint project with the Chamber of Commerce, had purchased and planted the bulbs. He knew where they grew even though it was too dark to see the long green leaves and fat buds.

In his head, he could hear the complaints already. The deer loved the tulips as much as the gardeners hated the deer. Every year, one crabby garden enthusiast would come to him and order him to shoot the deer when he saw them in the flowerbeds. Ridiculous. Tony always said that they should plant daffodils because the deer did not like to eat them.

Although the small creek that ran along the side of the house and then cut diagonally through the park was normally lazy, it increased in size and strength with each day of melting snow in the higher elevations. This winter brought more snow than usual. If spring continued the trend of increased moisture, they would have to keep an eye on the creek and make sure it didn't overflow its banks. A couple of years ago, it had flooded about twenty homes in the lowest area of town.

Theo joined him on the veranda. “Are you okay? You looked a bit pale when you got home.” She carried a tray and set it on the small table at his elbow. “I thought you might need a snack to hold you until dinner. I ordered from that new pizza place, and I'm not sure when dinner is going to arrive.”

Surprised that she had seen him, he smiled at her. It felt like the first time that he had smiled all day. “Thanks, sweetheart. It's been a long day and it's not over yet. If I had lunch today, I don't remember it, and I have to go back out in a little while.” He examined the mini-feast of crackers, cheddar cheese, sliced summer sausage and two mugs of hot cider. Using more force than necessary, he speared a slice of sausage with a toothpick and dipped it in a puddle of mustard before slapping it on a cracker. He popped the whole thing into his mouth and chewed as he reached for the cider.

Theo nodded. “I guessed that. You always lock your gun away as soon as you get home.” Picking a slice of cheese from the plate, Theo settled on her chair and nibbled the edge, holding it with both hands like a mouse. She adjusted her glasses with the back of her hand and inspected him. “At least it's a nice evening.”

“I'm afraid that it's lost on me tonight.” He had another loaded cracker in his mouth when he started to talk, and little crumbs flew out, landing on her pale blue fleece shirt.

Theo glared at him and swiped a hand across the front of her shirt, sending the crumbs to the wood planks at her feet.

“Sorry about that.” He finished his cracker. “With the fine mood I'm in, I have been sitting here thinking about diseased dogwoods, flooding creeks and old man Ferguson calling and wanting me to shoot the deer.” He heard Theo snort. The inelegant sound was like music to his ears, forcing him to smile.

“If that stubborn old coot wouldn't insist on planting those little lavender tulips every year there would be more flowers and less controversy.” Theo warmed to the topic, stabbing the air with her toothpick. “He absolutely refuses to admit that those bulbs are more expensive than the others are even when it is written out in black and white. I think that they must make sweeter flowers, too, because the deer always eat those first and then often leave the less expensive red and yellow ones alone.”

Tony sighed and began to relax. He didn't want to ask what the boys had been doing, but he did anyway.

Theo stopped in the process of reaching for another piece of cheese and peered at him over the top of the lenses. “Not much, just the regular stuff.” She giggled. “You know that Jamie can't stand it if Chris ignores him and will just pick and pick at him until he gets a reaction.”

Tony laughed. That behavior was definitely the regular one. All of the family knew how it worked. Only Jamie didn't realize that Chris ignored him on purpose to stir up trouble. Thinking about the boys, he said, “Are the quilters bowling tonight?”

“Yes.” Her curls bounced as she nodded several times for emphasis. “Since you're going out, do I need to get a babysitter or will you be back soon?”

“I shouldn't be very long. If they go to the shop with you, I'll pick them up after I talk with a few people.” He could tell that she wanted to ask him for details but his expression kept her silent. “Your little group is always full of information. Maybe you can find out what they know about the Mize family and about the Church of Divine Revelation.”

That caught Theo's attention and she lifted her eyebrows, silently inviting him to tell her more.

As he pulled into the parking lot, Tony noticed that the worn, drab, motel office/church took on a welcoming glow after dark. A string of multicolored Christmas lights connected the building to an illuminated rollout sign. On a brilliant yellow background, bold black letters pronounced “Be Saved—Me ting Now.” There were about ten or twelve vehicles parked in the lot. Most of them were older model sedans and full-size pickup trucks. A single motorcycle stood next to a small, black, four-wheel-drive truck. Like Quentin's, the truck had flames painted on the sides. Unlike Quentin's, it sported a rack of roof lights that Tony thought rivaled those on his official vehicle. He parked next to it.

After much deliberation, Tony had changed from his chocolate brown and khaki uniform into a pair of jeans, a lightweight gray sweater and a thigh-length black leather coat. With the coat unbuttoned, the shoulder holster with the big Glock didn't make too much of a bulge.

There didn't seem to be any sense in arriving at this little gathering in full uniform. He didn't want to run them off. He needed information and knew that sometimes his badge and uniform shut as many doors as it opened. The congregation might fear legal action because, as far as he knew, there might still be one state that didn't have laws against using snakes in religious meetings. That state was not Tennessee.

For a full minute, he stood outside, watching the little congregation through the glass. It seemed like business as usual, making him think that either news of the snake preacher's death had not spread, or he was not the only draw. At one side of the room, a pair of musicians arranged three chairs in an open space. Tony recognized both of the men and knew that they were both excellent guitar players. As least he would enjoy the music at this service.

The average age of the members of the congregation looked to be about fifty-five or sixty. The youngest were a pair of little girls. They might have been eight. On the opposite side of the room, an overweight teenaged boy slouched on a folding chair, gripping his elbows. He paid no attention to the activity around him but stared at the floor. No one spoke to him.

The men looked like they had stepped out of a time capsule. Almost like a uniform, they wore polyester pants and short-sleeved dress shirts. Tony thought that he could see enough hair cream holding back the men's hair to lubricate every vehicle in the county. Not having any hair himself, he had not realized that the greasy stuff was still available.

The women looked as if they had stepped from an even older capsule. Most of them had long gray hair that they pulled back into tight buns. On their tired faces, the style did not give them the finely honed appearance of ballerinas but cruelly exposed the lines of time. The vicious pins holding their hair up looked as if they stabbed into the scalps. Their uniform seemed to be dark cotton print dresses that his grandmother would have called “wash dresses.” Tony had to wonder what store still carried that style. None of them wore a trace of makeup. Nothing seemed to soften their lives, but they were smiling and chatting with each other.

The notable exception to the dress code was Pinkie Millsaps. She stood in the center of the room, still dressed in her motorcycle leathers, but she had added a long-sleeved white shirt under the leather vest. The shirt covered all of her tattoos but one pink rose on the back of her left hand.

Wondering why she hadn't seemed to recognize the Mize vehicle that morning, Tony was about to go inside when a familiar voice spoke to his left shoulder blade. “Hey there, Sheriff.”

Tony's smile widened as he turned and saw the short but thick-waisted man who stood behind him. “Hey there, Pops.”

Owan “Pops” Ogle worked as the county clerk. He was also a world-class mandolin player whose musical talents had been showcased on several bluegrass albums. Music was his first love. Being county clerk merely paid the bills. “Are you a member of this congregation?” said Tony.

“Helped start it up.” Pops proudly lifted his narrow chest and adjusted the belt around his lumpy midsection before opening the door for both of them.

As he waited for Pops to enter first, it occurred to Tony that Pops wasn't really fat. At a second glance, his chest appeared to have melted like wax and formed a puddle around his belt buckle. For such a small man, he had amazingly long fingers, which seemed to be constantly in motion. The knuckles were swollen and they looked painful but they didn't slow him down when it came to making music.

“I've been to every church and gathering in the area and just about all of them stray too far afield from the Good Book for me.”

Once inside, Tony steered the man to the far side of the room, hoping for more privacy. “How did you come to be using this place? I understand that it belongs to my mom and my aunt.” He did not mention how he came by the information.