Til Death Do Us Part (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 16) (8 page)

BOOK: Til Death Do Us Part (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 16)
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Which was exactly what she had done.

Only now, the ring wasn’t with her remains.  Someone had dug her up to steal it.

“Jon, this is incredible.  Who would do something like this?”

“Someone who thought they could make a quick buck off stealing from people who couldn’t make a complaint.  It makes sense, in a disgusting kind of way.  Every one of these victims had something valuable buried with them.  Florence’s ring.  Cadman’s five hundred dollars in gold, which is probably worth a lot more than face value now.  A man’s gold necklace with a ruby chip in the setting.  A gold watch.  Every one of them had something, except for one.”

Darcy felt her excitement deflate.  “What do you mean?”

He scrolled down to the right record.  “Emile Miller.  Died in 1963.  See what he’s buried with?”

The entry was a short one.  “New suit, donated by the church.  That’s it?”

Jon nodded.  “I don’t see why anyone would take the trouble to dig up someone for a suit.  Do you?”

“No,” Darcy had to admit.  “It would have been nothing but rags when they got to it anyway.  Well, this one exception doesn’t mean the rest weren’t dug up for what they had, right?”

“That’s right.  I’ve already had Wilson and Grace call around to the pawn shops and gold brokers around the area to see if anyone had items come through that match our list.  It’s a good start, but it leaves a pretty big question unanswered.  You know that, right?”

Darcy scrunched her eyebrows, trying to think.  What had she missed?  There was a lot left unanswered, but she was sure that they’d asked all the right questions already.  “I don’t understand.  What question?”

“If the bodies were dug up to get at their valuables, how did anyone know which ones to dig up?”

Of course.  “Well, one of them didn’t have anything, right?  Could they be picking graves at random?”

Jon rolled his head side to side.  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.  I think you were right, and I think our grave robber is targeting specific graves for high value items.  Emile’s grave is a question mark, but let’s set that aside for a minute.  Whoever our guy is, he knew to hit these specific graves.  How?”

Darcy’s mind mulled that over, and over again, not really coming up with anything useful.  “Well, they had to be someone familiar with the cemetery.”

“Okay,” Jon said, nodding his approval.  “That’s what I figure to.  So who does that lead us to?”

“Pastor Hillier,” Darcy said right away, “but somehow I doubt he’s digging people up to steal their watches.”

“Right.  If he was going to steal from corpses like that, he could just take the items off the bodies before they got sent to the cemetery, before they were bones to be dumped somewhere.”

“So, who else knew what was in the graves?  People from the historical society?”

“I’m not sure, but that’s the question of the day.”

“Really?  I thought the question of the day was whether or not you had your vows written.”

Darcy smiled at the look that came over Jon’s face.  She’d had enough talk about dead and dry bones for now.  She wanted to talk about something happy.  Like their wedding.

“Darcy, I have an important investigation going on.”

“I know, but let’s talk about us for a little bit.”

“Well, I do enjoy talking about us.”  He closed the file out on the computer screen.  Then he opened the center drawer on his desk and took out a little spiral bound notebook.  “Of course I’ve been working on my vows.  Do you want to see them?”

She almost bounced in her chair.  She wanted to see what he’d written that badly.  He teased her with it, too, holding it closer and then taking it away, starting to open the cover and then closing it again.  Finally she shot him a glare.  “Fine,” she said.  “I guess it would be bad luck if I saw them now.”

“I thought that was only true about me seeing the wedding dress?”

“Let’s not push it,” Darcy reminded him.  “The only kind of luck we usually have is the bad kind.  I’d rather not invite trouble.”

“Too bad.  I’ve written something really good.  There might even be tears when I read it.”  He winked at her.  “You have yours written?”

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip.  It had taken her two nights to finish her vows.  She’d gone through four drafts, crumpling up each one in turn to throw in the trash, before she was finally happy with them.  She’d read it at least ten times more.  Those words were beautiful.  She couldn’t wait to share them with Jon.

“So we’ve got almost everything set.”  Jon reached across the desk and took her hand again.  “Are you ready to get married?”

“More than ever. You need to get your tuxedo.  So does Aaron.  And Connor, too.  You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Of course not.  Aaron and I have an appointment next week.  We’ll bring Connor along, depending on what his mom says.  Oh.  I wanted to tell you about my mom, too.”

“Your…mom?”

“Sure,” he said.  “She responded to the RSVP.”

This was the first Darcy had heard of it.  “Well, what did she say?”

“She said—”

“Chief?”  Darcy recognized Wilson Barton’s voice calling down the hallway.  “I’m back.  I’ve got news.  Oh, hey Darcy.”

He came around the door at full speed but then stopped when he saw that Jon wasn’t alone.  His normally serious eyes were wide and excited.  The brown suit he usually wore had dirt stains on the knees and elbows.  Darcy waved with her fingers, knowing she would have to put talk of her wedding on hold for now.

Wilson had been out at the cemetery looking for anything that might help the investigation.  It looked to Darcy like he might have found it.

“What’s up, Will?” Jon asked him.

“I found it,” he answered.

“Found it?  Found what?”

Wilson held up a plastic evidence bag for them to see.  Inside was a small brown piece of something the size of a finger.

Darcy held Jon’s hand tighter when she realized it didn’t just look like a finger.  It was a finger.

Chapter Seven

 

Jon had been right.  The State Police didn’t like sharing this case.

Sergeant Vic Dunson wiped at his brow with that same folded white handkerchief.  “I’m blaming you for this, Chief Tinker.”

“Blame me all you want,” Jon told him.  “I’ve got big shoulders.  All I want is for this to get solved.”

They were standing in the woods behind the cemetery off Applegate Road, way back into the woods, almost to the river.  The water was a gentle babbling off into the trees still, almost masked by the sound of men searching step by step through the grass and leftover leaf fall from the winter.  CSU officers with gloves and pointy poles were looking for more bones in the same spot that Wilson had found that finger.

“So this is where Maven found all of the bones.”  Vic shoved his handkerchief back into the shirt pocket of his uniform even though Darcy still saw the sheen of sweat on his face and cheeks.

It wasn’t even that warm.  Well, it was warm for the time of year, but not enough that Vic should be sweating like this.  The man was nervous.  It was obvious he was in over his head.  He might be a sergeant in the State Police, but Darcy knew Jon had seen and done more in their little town than Vic probably ever would in his whole career.

Now that Darcy was standing in this spot, she understood how someone could dump the bones from the graves here without anyone finding them.  It was secluded and a good distance away from any of the established trails through the woods.  It was hard to say if the bones might have been buried under the cover of the leaf debris and loose soil before Maven found them.  It wasn’t like they had to be hidden.  Not out here.  No one would ever come this way in a million years.

So why was Maven out here?

“You sure Maven Sirles didn’t dig the bones up herself?” Vic asked.  “She had the bones in her garage.  My Lieutenant and my Captain are both looking into her financials.  I have to agree with them.  I don’t see any better explanation.”

Jon exchanged a look with Darcy, then cleared his throat and crossed his arms.  “You’re forgetting a few very important facts, Sergeant.”

“Oh really,
Chief
?  Like what?”

“Your men have found pieces of decayed clothing here, and three more pieces of bone.  The bodies taken from the graves were obviously left here after they were dug up.”

“So?”

“So,” Jon said slowly, “what are you suggesting?  Maven Sirles dug up all those bodies, then dragged them out here only to drag them out again and put them in boxes in her garage?”

“So we don’t have all the answers.”  Vic stalked away, throwing his hands in the air as he went.  “I don’t see the Misty Hollow Police Department coming up with any of the answers either!”

“Got it!” Wilson’s voice carried through the trees.

Vic stopped midstride.

It was all Darcy could do not to laugh at the comical look of surprise on his face.

Wilson came carefully stepping through the underbrush, breaking sticks underfoot, pushing low branches out of his way, careful to keep out of the areas the CSU team was searching.  There was something in his hands, bulky and flat.

A stone.  Darcy saw it now.  A flat, irregularly square stone still wet from the river.  Just like the ones in the boxes Darcy had seen in Maven Sirles’ garage.

“This is why Maven found the bones.  She was here to collect these stones.”  Wilson spun the rock in his hands by its edges.  “There’s a ton of them down there by the bend in the river.”

“Good job, Will,” Jon told him, taking the stone from his hands.  “Now we know how the bones were found.”

“Sure, sure.”  Vic grumbled to himself before turning away again.  “Like that’s any use to anyone.”

“Right,” Wilson said, rolling his eyes at Vic’s back.  “Because we haven’t helped him figure anything else out.  We just found the boxes in Maven’s garage, found the place where the bones had been dumped in the woods here…”

“Mapped out the cemetery where all the graves are,” Darcy added.

Jon ticked more facts off on his fingers.  “Talked to the next of kin, figured out the motive for the grave robbing, and basically put it all together in a nice neat package with a little red bow.  But, hey, the State Police will solve the whole thing by themselves.”

“Kind of makes me glad I didn’t become a Trooper,” Wilson muttered, low enough so none of the men nearby in their State Police uniforms would hear him.

“Don’t worry about Vic Dunson.”  Jon shook his head.  “Most State Troopers aren’t like that.  Guy’s got a chip on his shoulder.  That’s all.”

Darcy smiled, but her thoughts were somewhere else.  Something one of them had just said.  What was it?  Something important…

“I think these guys have it for now,” Jon said, breaking into Darcy’s thoughts.  “Why don’t we go home.  You too, Wilson.  Is Shane Wagner still out there in his patrol car?”

“Yeah,” Wilson said.  “He and Officer Baskin are making sure none of the reporters make it any closer than the entrance to the cemetery.”

“Sherrie’s out there with Shane?  How’d she pull that duty?” Jon asked.  “I thought she was on vacation this week?”

“She was.  Baskin and a bunch of the others came in on their own time to help with this one, Chief.”

After a moment, Jon nodded.  Darcy saw the change in his expression that he tried to hide.  He was proud to hear how the officers of the department were supporting him, their new chief.  Darcy wasn’t surprised at all.  She knew the people who worked with him supported Jon completely, even if he wasn’t ready to believe it.

“All right.”  Jon straightened his tie, casting one last glance over at Sergeant Vic Dunson who was in the process of ordering his men to do things they’d already done.  “Let’s get out of here so we can let Vic do his job, shall we?  Maybe us small time cops can come up with some leads on our own.”

“Oh, Jon,” Darcy said.  “That reminds me.”

How could she have forgotten?  It had been her whole reason for coming to find him earlier. 

Phoebe Stewart.

She told him all about the woman in the short-brimmed hat as they walked back through the woods and came out into the cemetery.  Jon agreed with her that it sounded suspicious, but at the same time he said they couldn’t check on every tourist that came into town.

“How about just the suspicious ones?” she asked him.

“Sounds fair.” 

At the far end of the cemetery, where the wrought iron entryways stood tall and serene, two black and white patrol cars sat with their red lights flashing.  The officers from the Misty Hollow Police Department, Shane Wagner and Sherrie Baskin, were keeping the crowd of reporters back.  Cameras swept the area taking background shots.  Several reporters stood with microphones up, trying to get the officers to give a quote.

Jon put his arm around Darcy’s shoulder and drew her against him.  “We’ll talk more about our wedding tonight.  I promise.  We still have to confirm with Pastor Hillier, and there’s a couple of menu items I want to check on with Helen.”

“Okay.  Talking about it at home sounds good.”  Just not here, she thought, standing in a cemetery with the headstones all laid out in neat rows, eight graves covered with sheets of plywood and staked off with yellow police tape.  It was like looking over that perfect little map from the church that Jon had in his office.  Each grave, marked out and carefully labelled with who was laid to rest inside.

And what they were laid to rest with…

She stopped where she was, and Jon stopped with her.

Oh, for Pete’s sake, she thought to herself.

Anyone could have known which graves to hit.  All they needed was access to the church’s records.
 

***

Jon knocked on the door of the modest little house that Pastor Hillier lived in next to the Grace Community Church.  It was a one story home with old white vinyl siding and green trim around the windows and door.  The flagstone walk reminded Darcy of the flat river stones Maven had been hunting, the very thing that had started this whole mystery.

Just after the second knock the door opened by Pastor Hillier, a slim man with a thick head of hair that never quite sat down the way it should at the back.  His simple black shirt and slacks were the only thing Darcy had ever seen him wear.

“Darcy!  Jon!”  The pastor smiled to see them.  “Did we have an appointment?  I thought we weren’t meeting until Monday.”

“We weren’t,” Jon assured him.  “Something else came up.”

“Ah.  The grave robbing.  Yes.”  Hillier’s face soured.  “Nasty business.  Never in twenty years as a pastor have I ever seen something like this.  Well.  Come on in.  What more can I do for you?”

The pastor made them tea while they talked in his small kitchen.  The round dining table was barely big enough for the three of them.  The countertop had a few spices and a standing roll of paper towels on it.  Everything in the kitchen was white from the cabinets to the appliances to the floor.  If men of God were supposed to live simply, then Pastor Hillier certainly exemplified that rule.

“I do hope black tea is all right,” he said to them as he passed out the ceramic cups.  “It’s all I have left.  So.  The whole town can’t stop talking about this one, can they?”

“No,” Jon had to agree, turning his cup around and around on the table.  “They’ll be talking about this for a long time.  What we needed to ask you about, Pastor, was this.  We believe whoever was responsible for this had access to the church records.  That map you gave me of the cemetery plots, as well as the information the church keeps on what people were buried with. Can you tell me who would have been able to see those records?”

“Well, me of course,” Hillier laughed.  “I don’t suppose a man of God such as myself would be a suspect, would I?”

Jon concentrated harder on his cup.  Darcy knew what he was thinking.  Anyone could be a suspect, but neither of them had any reason to believe Pastor Hillier had done this.  “I can safely say you aren’t on my list of suspects.  Someone had to know which of the graves to dig up, though, and for that they needed your church records.”

“Ah, I see.”  The pastor nodded with a little chuckle.  “I suppose that makes sense.  I’m almost disappointed you don’t think it’s me.  It might have been fun to be a suspect.  Let me see.  Besides myself, theres’s only a few people who would have that kind of access.  We have four church elders who can see the records anytime they want.  The cemetery association has the map, of course, but they don’t get to see the other records of the church.”

He folded his hands together and tapped the tips of his index fingers against his lips.  "I don’t believe anyone else ever looks at either set of records.”

Jon had already taken out his little notebook from the pocket of his suitcoat.  “Well it’s a place to start.  Why don’t you give me the names of the church elders.  We’ll interview each of them…is there something else, Pastor?”

Darcy had noticed the way Hillier was pursing his lips and shaking his head.  Now he shrugged at Jon’s question.  “I just know that interviewing the elders would be a waste of your time, Jon.”

“Pastor Hillier, I know it might be hard to accept, but if one of the elders is robbing the graves of the people buried here in town we need to know about it.  We need to put a stop to this and punish whoever is responsible.”

“I agree, but it’s not any of the elders,” Hillier insisted.

Jon closed his notebook again and set it on the table.  “This isn’t going to be a church confidentiality thing, is it?  I can get a court order if you need one.  Or I could just ask around town.  It’s not like the names of your elders is a big secret.”

The pastor raised a hand, waving aside Jon’s concerns.  “It’s nothing like that, I assure you.  If you still need the names I’ll be most happy to provide them to you.  I’m just telling you that it isn’t any of them.”

“Can you at least tell me how you know that?”

“Simple,” Hillier said.  “The records are kept in the church, and the only way anyone can look at them is by signing them out.”

Darcy’s heart sank.  “Let me guess.  No one has signed them out?”

He smiled back at her almost apologetically.  “Not for three or four years.  I’ve been the only one to lay eyes on them in all that time.  I checked after the last time we spoke.  I’m sorry, Jon, but we really don’t have that many people associated with the church.  I wish we had more.  It’s such a nice town here but so few of our neighbors spend time with us at Grace Community.  We have our elders and our ladies of the auxiliary, and our deacon readers.  A few volunteers, too.  I know them all.  None of them have signed out the records.”

Jon closed his eyes for a moment, sighing out through his nose.  Darcy knew how he felt.  So much for their big lead.  Pastor Hillier had just put a huge hole through it.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Hillier said again.  “I wish I had better news.  Is there anything else I might be able to help you with?”

“No.  No, I wish there was.  I guess we should…no, wait.  The list of items buried with each person.”

“Hm?  What about it?”

“Your records are very thorough.  Everything about the burial is noted, right down to the time of day the coffin gets put into the ground.”

BOOK: Til Death Do Us Part (A Darcy Sweet Cozy Mystery Book 16)
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