Salvaged to Death (8 page)

Sadie wondered what Hal thought as he watched the men. He was a curious person, always thirsty for knowledge. He probably appreciated the glimpse into the inner workings of law enforcement. As for her, she compiled a mental list of everything they did wrong. After a while, the list grew too long to remember so she sorted out the most egregious sins with which to condemn Fergus and his team. For instance, they didn’t wait for the state investigators to arrive before they trampled the scene and moved the body. Of course, she and Hal had already trampled the scene and touched the body, but they didn’t know that.

They took no pictures of the scene, before or after they moved the body. They took statements from her and Hal but didn’t ask for identification. To her knowledge, they had yet to run their names to check for outstanding wants or warrants. They hadn’t questioned them over what they were doing there or if they had permission, which was handy for them but bad for the case. As the first person to see, touch, and report the body, Hal was now in the chain of evidence, but no one had informed him of that fact. For all they knew, he might live in a different country. He could leave and blow their case, if they ever made a case, which was looking more and more doubtful as the moments ticked.

“This reminds me of a Keystone Cop movie Abby showed me once,” Sadie said.

“Are they doing something wrong?” Hal asked.

“A better question would be are they doing something right,” Sadie said.

“A few months as an investigator and you’re already smug and condescending. I like that.”

“It’s not my job that made me this way; it’s Gideon. I watched him work and listened to him talk too many times not to be affected. Say what you will about his parenting skills, but he was a great cop. These guys could take a lesson. Or fifty.”

“I’m about to fall asleep,” Hal said.

“Me, too, but it’s like watching a train wreck; I can’t look away. We can go, though. I’ve about reached my limit of ineptitude endurance.”

They took a step toward the exit, but Hal put out a hand. “Wait, it’s about to get interesting.”

Tom Tomkins blew through the back door and stalked toward the gathered group, a Bantam rooster in full plume. Behind him, Bo stalked silently—a menacing panther-like figure in black pants and t-shirt. “What is going on here?” Tom demanded. For a few beats, everyone was quiet. Then Fergus stepped forward and assumed his role as the official spokesman.

“Seems a body has been found in one of your cars, Tom.”

Tom stopped short, eyes bulging, mouth working soundlessly up and down. He made the transition from rooster to fish with alarming speed. Sadie hoped he didn’t have heart issues. “What?” he squawked after finding his voice again. “What are you saying? That’s nonsense. I didn’t buy a car with a body in it. Don’t you think I would have checked that?”

“I do,” Fergus said. “Suppose you tell me how it got there.”

Tom began flapping his arms as if hoping for takeoff. “I have no idea. You think I know? I don’t know. Who is it?”

“I think we both know who it is,” Fergus said.

Hal leaned forward, breathlessly trying not to miss a word. Sadie silently pled with Fergus not to say what he was about to say. Logic told them the man in the trunk was the missing Johnny, but logic wasn’t enough to make a case. He needed facts—cold, hard, facts.
Don’t do it, Fergus; you’re going to regret it.

“It’s Johnny,” Fergus continued. “I guess you finally got your revenge, and I can’t fault you for that, but you shoulda hid the body better. Turn around and show me your hands. Boys, I need some cuffs.” He reached to one of his uniformed men for a pair of cuffs and clapped them on a stunned and protesting Tom Tomkins. He read no rights or Miranda warning before hauling the tiny Mr. Tomkins into a cruiser with the command to wrap it up and take Tom away.

Beside the cruiser, Bo stood silently watching, his arms crossed over his chest. Sadie watched him watch the cruiser as it drove away. When it was out of sight, he turned and locked eyes with her. What she read in his eyes was a surprising amount of frustration. Why was he frustrated? Did he understand how inept the investigation was? If he was the one who had killed Johnny, wouldn’t he be relieved that his boss had been blamed? Or was there a grander plan she didn’t understand? Was he frustrated because the plan had been foiled? The man irked her for his complexity and vague sense of familiarity. And, though she would tell no one, he scared her. She couldn’t put her finger on why, and that added to her frustration.

Before she could gather her courage to confront him, he broke eye contact and eased away, slipping into the shadows without ever having said a word. Sadie wanted to scream and point, to tell Fergus that Bo was a much more likely candidate for murder than the tiny Tom Tomkins. How would he have stuffed a body in a trunk? He could barely reach it to unlatch. But speaking up would mean drawing attention to herself and getting involved. Fergus wouldn’t appreciate that, both because he didn’t like women and because he had a grudge against Gideon. The more time she had before he realized who she was, the better.

When the ambulance drove off with the body, Sadie decided to make their escape. With their body and suspect gone, the officers would be looking to tie up loose ends. Sadie had no desire to be one of those ends, especially not with Fergus still stomping around like a bull in a China shop, wrecking the scene with his oafishness.

The walk back to Fiona’s was long and silent. “I see six of you now,” Hal said when they arrived back at the cottage. He let himself in, went directly to his room, and presumably fell into a coma. Dawn was on the horizon. Sadie was exhausted, but she didn’t want to go to bed without letting Fiona know what happened. Either Fiona was an early riser or she hadn’t gone to bed because she sat in the living room, embroidery hoop in hand. She glanced up at Sadie and set down the hoop.

“We found a dead body in the trunk of a car,” Sadie blurted. Fiona wasn’t the type who needed minced words. “It’s probably Johnny. They arrested Tom.” She sat and watched Fiona’s reaction.

“Oh,” Fiona said. She picked up the embroidery hoop and clutched it, her knuckles going white.

“Do you think he did it?” Sadie asked.

“Hard to say,” Fiona said. “He was angry about the stolen converters, and that rage had a long time to simmer. I’ve never known him to physically hurt anyone or anything. But how much do you ever really know a person?” She stared hard at her needlework, frowning a minute before turning her gaze on Sadie. “Do you think he did it?”

“My brain is too muddled to think. I’m going to sleep on it and see how I feel when I wake up.”

“I guess my pumpkins are safe,” Fiona said.

“Unless he had nothing to do with that,” Sadie said.

“How do you suppose?”

“Bo. There’s a question mark over his head, and I can’t find peace about the situation until I erase it.” She stood, easing the kinks out of her tired neck. “Goodnight, Fiona. We’ll talk more when I wake up and see where you want to go next.”

“All right,” Fiona said. She was still clutching the hoop, though she wasn’t working now. Instead she stared at the center of the ring, as if it might provide her answers if she looked hard enough.

Sometime later, Sadie sensed someone in her room. She jolted awake but forced her eyes to remain closed. Instead she squinted through the slats of her lids, trying to make out a form. A tall body hovered over her bed, a strong sense of concern and disapproval wafted through the room.

She let her eyes go slack and tried to think of a plan. How best to handle the situation? Tears were no good; he saw through those. Instead she reached for the phone under her pillow and pushed his number. When it rang beside her, she jumped and sat up.

“Luke! What are you doing here? I was just going to call and tell you there’s been a murder.”

“I’m going to skip over the obvious lie and go straight to the part where I turned on the noon news and saw that a body was discovered in Bateman.”

“What time is it?” she asked. She plopped back down and peered up at him.

“One.”

“You made good time,” she observed.

“Terror puts lead in my foot,” he said.

“So you got up to what, thirty? Forty?”

“Now is not the time for jokes, Sadie. I was really worried about you. They didn’t give any details on the news, just that a body had been found.”

“Did Abby come?”

“No. She wasn’t worried. She said you were probably the one who found it, plus you know she vowed never to set foot in Bateman. Not even the possibility of your demise would draw her here. She tried to get me to wear a talisman.”

“Garlic?”

“Atwood High class ring,” he said.

“You have a class ring? Can I see it? Do you still wear it? And, if so, do you ever put it on your pinky and pretend to be in the mafia? Are you going to give it to Vaslilssa? If so, you’d better have it sized up and make sure she knows it’s not food so she doesn’t try to eat it.”

“Nice attempt at distraction, Kreskin, but I won’t be diverted.”

“Who’s Kreskin?”

“He was a mentalist who used to…” He stopped short, grabbed his head, and shook it. “Stop that. You know who Kreskin is. Tell me about the body.” He sat, effectively shoving her over until she was smashed against the wall.

“It was putrid and beginning to liquefy,” she began, but he mashed his palm over her lips.

“Not that part. Disgusting. Who was it?”

“What makes you think I know?”

“Because Abby’s right. If you’re not the one who’s dead, then you’re the one who found it.”

“Actually, Hal found it.”

“Same difference,” he said. “You two are matching beacons for trouble. I knew I should have come with you. Letting the two of you go off together was asking for woe.”

“Woe? Nice vocabulary, King James.”

“
Sadie,
”

“
Luke.
”

“Why can’t you ever just answer the question?”

“What was the question?”

He paused. “I don’t remember. How do you do that? Start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”

“We were in the pumpkin patch and saw someone. We gave chase, lost him, ended up in the salvage yard, and Hal smelled decay. We followed his nose to a car and found the body. The end.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t know how much you edited that story,” Luke said. “Who’s the dead guy?”

“The missing person I told you about.”

He shook his head.

“Do you know something I don’t?” she asked.

“I know that you’re getting sucked deeper into this case, and you shouldn’t. This isn’t your mess, Sadie. Leave it alone.”

“Do you know who is sheriff of this county?” she asked, then answered without giving him a chance to reply. “Fergus McGee.”

“So? He’s been sheriff for years, and I haven’t heard anything bad about him.”

“Probably because nothing bad ever happens here and he’s had no chance to screw it up. Luke, you should have seen the way he handled things. It was horrible. He jumped to conclusions like a poodle through hoops. He made an arrest without doing an investigation or even confirming the dead guy’s identity.”

“So you don’t think the guy they arrested is guilty, and you’re going to prove it. Saint Sadie, the righter of wrongs, is that your thing now? Is this another way to delay the inevitable moment you run away and never come back?”

“Not everything is about me and you,” Sadie said. “And not every case has to be either mercenary or selfless. Fergus is an idiot and he’s railroading a conclusion. Maybe Tom is guilty, but doesn’t the law give him the benefit of the doubt? Who’s actually looking at the facts here? No one.”

“And this newly discovered passion for justice has nothing to do with the fact that you’re avoiding me,” he said.

“My, my, aren’t we full of ourselves today,” Sadie said.

“At least I know I’m not the only one who’s full of something,” he said.

“You got up on the wrong side of the bed,” she accused.

“I woke up really cheerful, but the forty minute drive up the mountain to make sure you weren’t dead put a definite damper on my day.”

“You woke up cheerful?” she asked dubiously.

His eyes slid to the left of hers and focused on her pillow. “I woke up.”

She grinned. “You missed me, and you’ve been as grumpy as a beaver in a trap without me.”

“You’ve adapted well to the homey mountain jargon,” he groused.

She poked his side. “You missed me. Admit it.”

“I missed my routine. You know I’m a creature of habit.”

“And seeing my face over your morning coffee has become a habit,” she surmised.

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting how dreary the morning had been without her. “Abby made Cream of Wheat,” he blurted, his tone accusing. “With no sugar.”

“Poor Luke,” Sadie said. She put her hand on his and he clutched it without really meaning to.

“Are you coming home today?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“
Sadie.
”

“
Luke.
If you could bottle that exasperation and find a buyer, you’d be rich, rich, rich.”

“Come home.”

“I need to find closure here. My employer’s ex-husband was just arrested, and I still haven’t figured out who has been tampering with her pumpkins.”

“This is no longer about pumpkin tampering; this is about murder, and that’s too much. I want you home.”

She smiled up at him. “Finally, an admission.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, too. “I swear, Sadie.”

“You do that a lot.”

“Only since you came back.” He reached out to push the curls off her face. “You know what I’m thinking?”

“Usually.”

“I’m thinking this is what the three bears must have seen when they found Goldilocks, and I’m thinking they were crazy. I wouldn’t have chased you away.”

“Lucas Sawyer, are you flirting with me through the guise of a children’s story?”

“I can’t help it. It’s like the clownfish and anemone. Without daily contact, I’m losing my immunity to your poison.”

“Wow, Nemo, good analogy. I feel all warm inside my venom sac.”

A knock sounded on her door. Hal pushed it open enough to poke his head inside. “Breakfast is ready. We should probably talk about what’s next on the agenda.” He withdrew his head and disappeared.

“What was that about?” Luke asked.

“I put Hal in charge of the case.”

Luke doubled over, laughing, as Sadie eased by him and began gathering her clothes. “Why is that funny?” she asked.

“I clearly misheard you because it almost sounded like you put Hal in charge of the case.”

“I did.”

He laughed again.

“That’s getting annoying,” she said.

“You did not put Hal in charge of the case,” he said.

“I did.”

“You didn’t.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” she asked and stepped into the closet to change out of her pajamas. He waited to answer until she emerged.

“Because you couldn’t put anyone in charge of anything. You have to be in charge. Always.”

“I do not,” she said.

“Do I need to have my mother send me the picture on my phone?”

“First of all, your mother wouldn’t know how to send a picture to your phone if your life depended on it. Second, what picture?”

“The one where we were eighteen months old and you grabbed my ankle to keep me from getting to the ball before you.”

“That’s not what happened,” she said. “We fell.”

“You dragged me down two stairs and sat on me,” he said.

“You can’t possibly remember that,” she said.

“My mom told me. She thought it was funny. Little did she know it would be the start of a lifelong pattern.”

“Look, I’m really tired of your allegations that I’m a control freak. I don’t always have to be the leader; I don’t always have to be in charge. I can take a back seat on this case. I already have.”

“I believe you completely,” Luke said with no sincerity. Sadie pounced and tackled him, pinning his arms over his head. “This is a clear demonstration of your submissiveness,” he added.

“I could tickle you. I know the spots,” she threatened. A barking laugh rang out from the direction of the kitchen. Sadie’s grip tightened painfully on his wrists.

His smile dimmed. “This is probably a good time to tell you that I brought Vaslilssa along.”

“You thought I was dead so you brought your girlfriend?”

“She was there when I watched the news and asked to tag along. What could I say?”

“No.”

“Sadie, come on. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yes, she is,” Sadie said. She hopped off the bed and straightened her rumpled clothes.

“Sadie,” Luke called, but she was already gone. Vaslilssa sat at the table, pounding a full plate of sausage, apples, and fried potatoes.

“Sadie,” she sang out though a full mouth. “Your hair is mashed.” She waved her fork in the direction of Sadie’s curls. She hadn’t looked in a mirror yet, but she had seen herself first thing in the morning too many times to have to wonder over her appearance. Natural curls plus sleep rarely ended well.

“Vaslilssa, you…” Sadie began but quickly ran out of steam. The woman was perfect. No one had ever made Sadie feel dowdy by comparison before, but Vaslilssa came close. “Good morning,” she amended, stuffing down any possible retorts along with her insecurity. Vaslilssa was beautiful, but she was nothing to sneeze at. They were different, that was all. With Vaslilssa out of her mind, she focused on the person in her peripheral vision.

“Bo!” she exclaimed. He nodded in her direction as he sipped his coffee. “Don’t you have some duck calls to carve today?”

“Good one,” he said. It was the most she had ever heard him speak. She sat beside him. Luke sat to her left. Heaping plates of food appeared before them as if by magic, but it wasn’t magic; it was Fiona, working so hard her cheeks were red with exertion and heat.

“Fiona, can I help you?” Sadie asked.

“I’m good,” Fiona said.

“Sit with us,” Sadie said.

“I’m fine,” Fiona said.

“I already tried,” Hal said. “Fiona’s the hostess with the mostest.” In the corner of the room by the stove, Fiona smiled. Now Sadie realized that her cheeks were pink because of a blush. Hal had apparently been heaping praise, probably providing a handy distraction from the events of last night. Fiona set a mounded bowl of grits on the table and returned to the stove while the bowl made the rounds. With Fiona happily distracted, Sadie turned her attention back to Bo.

“What brings you this morning, Bo?”

“It’s afternoon, and Fiona invited me for breakfast,” he said.

Sadie glanced at Fiona again. Apparently after their conversation last night about needing to look into Bo, Fiona had devised a plan. Sadie appreciated her craftiness. “Where are you from?”

“Alabama,” he drawled, not looking up from his plate.

“How long were you in the army?” Sadie asked. He froze and finally regarded her with a chillingly flat stare.

“I never said I was in the army.”

“Weren’t you?” she asked.

“Just because a man wears fatigues doesn’t make him a soldier,” he pointed out.

“No, it’s your plate. You arranged it according to military tradition—small piles, nothing touching. And you’re eating clockwise with rapid bites. I’ve only seen two types of people eat that way—soldiers and prisoners. Which are you, Bo?”

He smiled, a creepy maneuver that did nothing to make him friendlier. “I might ask the same of you, ma’am. How does the cousin of an investigator know so much about soldiers and felons?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I’m an astute observer of human nature. People are surprised because they think blond hair makes you stupid. I bet you get that a lot.”

“Maybe you are stupid because my hair’s not blond,” he pointed out.

“No, but you’re quiet. Quiet people are often taken for stupid.”

“Not by smart people,” he said. “Smart people understand that silence is often a testimony to wisdom.”

“Or laryngitis,” Hal added.

Bo turned his laser focus on Hal.

“Please don’t scalp me,” Hal said.

“More sausages?” Vaslilssa said, raising her plate in the air as a request.

“Back to the army,” Sadie redirected while Fiona filled Vaslilssa’s plate for what was probably more than the second time. “You never said how long you were in.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bo said.

Sadie waited him out, staring at his face while she ate. She could be silent when she wanted, too.

“A few years after high school,” he said at last.

“Long enough to acquire skills with weaponry and hand-to-hand combat,” Sadie observed.

“A man doesn’t need the army to learn those things,” Bo said.

“That’s right—there are also video games,” Hal added. “Although, thanks to
Street Fighter,
I constantly scream out ‘hadouken!’ and give away my best move.”

“Where else did you learn?” Sadie asked Bo.

“Around,” he said.

“Sausages,” Vaslilssa announced, holding her empty plate aloft again. Sadie reached over the table and snatched it away.

“There are only so many pigs in the world,” she snapped as she began piling grits on Vaslilssa’s plate. “Have some filler material.”

“Sadie,” Luke warned.

Vaslilssa gave the grits a dubious poke and then tucked in, finishing the steaming pile in record time. “What are these being made from?” she asked when she was finished.