Murder at Stake Read online

  “CSI? Babs asked, a little befuddled. “Why would a crime unit be out there for a storm, Deloris?”

  She shook her head and turned back to the dining room from the swinging doors. “The man’s got a stake through his heart, woman. Doesn’t that sound a little odd to you?” Then she disappeared to deal with the roast.

  Her remark rattled me a little bit. It might be worth investigating, I thought...but of course it was a freak accident caused by the tornado. Right? Babs and I stared at each other as a chill froze us in place at the thought, for a moment.

  “It looked like the storm blew that wooden stake to me, Babs.”

  “I swear,” Babs said, pouring salt through the funnel into the shakers, “that woman’s brain is going to turn to mush from listening to Jake’s wild stories.”

  That made me feel better, and we got the diner ready for the dinner rush. I went outside with the big push-broom to sweep away the leaves and debris from the sidewalk out front. There was an eerie stillness, and the sky shone a hazy yellow as the mid-afternoon sun tried to burn off the mist left by the storm. I looked across the wide main street at Brandi’s Donut House and was glad I hadn’t yet installed the new awning I had been planning for my outdoor tables this summer. Poor Brandi, I thought.

  Just then she came out of her shop with a big smile and wave. She cupped one hand by her mouth. “Quite the storm, huh, Mercy?”

  I nodded. It was uplifting to see her happy mood despite the loss of her beautiful awning. It seemed that she hadn’t heard about Jonesy yet.

  “Here comes the Ladies’ Aid Society.” An hour had passed, and Bab’s was looking out of the big front window as Hattie Harper and Sandy Skitter rode up on their bicycles. The two old spinsters were rarely seen apart.

  Deloris looked up. “Yep, looks like Elvira Gulch and Tinker Bell are coming to bless us with their presence. Audrey and Eva should be along shortly.”

  Elvira Gulch was the old woman on the bike in Kansas who became the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz, and Hattie did resemble her when she rode up on her bicycle in her black pillbox hat with a drooping black flower on it. She was the undisputed leader of the ladies’ group that came in at least one afternoon a week and every Saturday. Sandy was her big-eyed yes-woman, sweet as honey but not very bright. Audrey was married to Hank Albright, president of the bank, and Eva Parsons was a lonely widow, getting heavier and more bitter every day, it seemed. They called themselves the Paint Creek Sewing Circle and Book Review Charity Club, but mostly they were referred to by the locals as the Ladies’ Aid Society. Smoke called them the Soap Opera and Gossip Club, but they did take on a lot of charitable and civic endeavors for the community.

  Babs knew they would want the big booth in the corner, and she quickly snatched up the last tray of salt shakers and silverware from her corner “office” as the ladies walked in. Predictably, Audrey and Eva followed a couple of minutes later.

  “Bring some ice water for the ladies and iced tea with lemon for me,” Hattie ordered Babs. “Put it all on my check. And bring two more glasses – Vonnie and Emma should be joining us.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Oh – and bring me three cubes of sugar. Your teaspoons don’t measure properly.”

  “Right away, Hattie.”

  “And I’d like a piece of that cherry cobbler in the pie case, Babs,” Sandy requested. “It looks delicious!”

  “No food, Sandy. You’re getting a little porky around the middle again.” Hattie gave her a stern look. “It took me three months of having you run behind my bicycle last summer to get rid of your extra flab. I don’t have that kind of time to waste. Unless you don't want to be my personal secretary any more... Besides, this is a business meeting. We don’t need your fork clinking and you chomping away and scarfing down pie while we’re trying to conduct a meeting.”

  Sandy looked alarmed and turned a ghostly pale and then bright red. “Just the water, please, Babs.”

  More diners began to file in, and the counter was filling up as the men returned from Jonesy’s farm.

  Chapter Seven

  “I got your table all set, fellas,” I told the group holding out my right arm toward the long table on the opposite end of the dining room. The retired guys would sit at the big table on the end and comment on the passersby and other customers – particularly the young women walking by and the old birds in the corner booth. Smoke had a hurried look on his face as he followed Jake through the front door.

  “Don’t worry, old man,” Deloris told him as she poured water into the coffee maker behind the counter. “Your beef has been roasting nicely at 350 for an hour, and it will be a tender medium rare or so by 5 o’clock.”

  Zack had returned a while ago through the back door and poked his head into the pass-through window. “And the gravy and chili and soup are all warmed up in the steam table, and all the greens and vegetables are cut and prepped, Smoke. Just sit down with the guys and let me handle it for a while.”

  Smoke looked at me, a bit of skepticism in his eyes, but I gave him the go-ahead nod and he sat at the end of the table, closest to the kitchen. “Don’t mind if I do!”

  Red followed a moment later, moving slowly and pulling his little red hand cart behind him. It held his oxygen tank, and he had the tubes leading to his nostrils. I guess the shock of Jonesy’s death had really gotten to him. He didn’t use the tank very often.

  “Red!” I went to help him through the threshold, but he would have no part of it.

  “I don’t need any help, Mercy. This thick air after the storm is just so muggy, it’s hard for these old lungs to get any oxygen out of it. I’ll be just fine in a minute, now that I’m inside.” He sat at the big end table with the other men.

  The men all sat on the far side of the table along the wall so they could see the action in the diner, and Deloris set down a pot of hot coffee and a pitcher of iced tea with slices of lemon peeking through the sides and floating on top. Babs was right behind her with a tray of cups and glasses.

  “Here you go, boys,” she said with her bright smile. “We’ll bring out some appetizers in a while.”

  Smoke was on the end of the table closest to the kitchen, then Jake and Red. Jake Junior, his dad’s 25-year old son and partner in the family construction company, had returned with the guys too. Pete Jenkins, who had a farm not far from Jonesy’s, was with them now too. He was a quiet, single man, about 40, and always stayed pretty much to himself. But this horrific event was enough to bring him out. Stan Doggerty, Brody’s 28-year-old deputy, walked in the door and joined the table.

  “Deputy Dawg!” Jake Junior greeted him. “Where’s your boss? I thought he left when the rest of us did.”

  “He’s not far behind, Junior. He said he just wanted to cruise the streets of town a little bit to make sure things were okay first. He’ll be by shortly.”

  “Poor old Jonesy,” Junior said as Stan took a chair near the end of the table, saving the head of the table for the Sheriff. “I always suspected he was a vampire, but I didn’t know we had a Van Helsing here in town to do him in!”

  And so it began...

  The others turned toward the stout spitting image of his father.

  “What are you talking about, Jughead?” Red inquired. “Who said anything about Jonesy being a vampire?”

  “Hey! Don’t call my boy Jughead,” Jake protested.

  “Why not, Jake? You do. Heck, I thought that was his name until I got his graduation announcement when he was 19.”

  “That’s different. He’s my boy, I can call him what I want, Red. Besides, everybody calls him Junior, which means his name is the same as mine, you old goat.”

  Red just shrugged. “I don’t know. I figured Jake might be your middle name. He could be Jughead Junior...”

  Jake started to get up from his chair, but Smoke pulled him back down with a hand on his shoulder. Jake settled down.

  Smoke liked to encourage Junior with his entertaining ideas. “So tell us
about your vampire theory, Junior.”

  Junior looked surprised. “Well, what the heck else could it be? Somebody put a wooden stake through his heart. Obviously, that has to be because he’s a vampire. Duh!”

  His father shook his head, a little embarrassed at his son’s silly theory. “He was no vampire, Junior...”

  “Of course, he wasn’t,” Smoke added. “The tornado put the stake though his chest, not a vampire hunter.” Smoke shook his head, and most of the other men let out a quiet round of laughter.

  Jake waved the laughter down. “Whoa, whoa there, guys. It may not have been a vampire hunter who done him in, but it wasn’t that twister either.”

  The men looked at each other, waiting for Jake Sr.’s theory. “It’s all part of that government conspiracy I’ve been telling you about...”

  “I think I’m going to need a beer, Smoke,” Red whispered to his friend. “You still got some in your tapper back there?”

  Smoke always made room for a small keg in the back refrigerator, and liked to sip on the suds throughout the day in the hot kitchen. Just enough to keep cool and refreshed.

  Jake continued. “...You know they’ve been putting mind control drugs in the meat at his butcher shop for months now. Maybe Jonesy told them he wanted them to cut it out, and they did this as a warning to anyone else who tried to stop them.”

  The front door opened again, and Sheriff Hayes stepped in. Maybe now we could get some of the real story, now that they’ve had time to examine the scene.

  Chapter Eight

  Rumors and oddball theories were flying through the diner as the Sheriff took his seat at the head of the long table.

  Babs set down a steaming bowl of chili & cheese dip surrounded by chips and crackers and a platter of fresh cut veggies. “This should keep you guys satisfied long enough for Zack to fill the orders for the other diners. Then you can order something more substantial after that, guys”

  “You can put that rabbit food on the other end of the table, Babsy, and slide that chili dip down this way,” Red told her with a bit of the old drill sergeant that he used to be in his attitude. “Mercy, you can take those carrots and celery stalks home for those guinea pigs of yours. We don’t need them ’round here.”

  “Slide them my way, Babs,” Brody said with a gentlemanly smile. “That’s just the snack I need right now.”

  “This special meeting of the Paint Creek Sewing Circle and Book Review Charity Club will come to order,” Hattie said from her booth. “Slide over ladies; make room for the rest of our members.”

  Emma Vanderjack and Vonnie D’Arnaud, the preacher’s wife, just walked by the window and were coming in the front door. Emma didn’t look like her usual talkative self, and Vonnie seemed even quieter and more withdrawn than usual. I swear I’ve scarcely heard that woman ever say a word. They headed for the corner booth, which held the six ladies perfectly.

  “I hope those old hens don’t yack too loud,” Red said as he took the oxygen tubes off and rubbed the whickers on his chin.

  “Well, they’ve got important things to discuss,” Smoke said with fake indignation. “After all, there’s been a lot of calamity in that Kardashian household this week, I’m sure, and they’ll have to stick their noses into everyone’s business here in Paint Creek too.”

  “Well, I hadn’t thought about that,” Red chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. Babs, bring us out a pitcher of beer from Smoke’s keg back there. I really need a cool one right now.”

  “Why, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Red Barber,” Babs said, trying to see Sheriff Hayes out of the corner of her eye. “This is a respectable diner, not a saloon, ya know.”

  Brody just rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Babs. Just put it in a china pitcher instead of a glass one so that people can’t see it, and give us some coffee mugs to pour it in. Honestly, I could use a little relaxer right now too. It’s been a stressful day.”

  Smoke and Red raised their eyebrows at each other and did a fist bump.

  I was curious about the scene at the farm and walked up to Brody. “So what was it Sheriff? Vampire slayers, or NSA goons trying to protect the government’s mind control program?”

  “Huh? Uh...what?” He looked at me like I’d lost my mind and nearly fell off his chair.

  I smiled, and subtly nodded my head toward the gang. He began to get the idea.

  “Oh, yeah...heh heh. Well, it was quite the scene, a lot of damage and a pretty macabre sight, what with the body and all. You know that – you were there, Mercy. Josie seemed to be taking it pretty hard, though. I looked in on her and Florence before I left.” Brody pulled a chair over from the next table, and I sat across from the men.

  There had been a lot of gossip and speculation about Josie and Carl’s marriage falling apart, and the ladies in the corner seemed to think she was having an affair, from the talk I’d overheard the past few weeks. But I don’t know...she didn’t really seem the type, and Carl was such a kind man and devoted husband.

  “Is she doing all right? Is Florence still there with her?”

  Pete Jenkins piped up. “Oh, yeah...Florence Carwinkle is still there, and Josie’s sister is coming in from Pigeon’s Roost later tonight.”

  I nodded.

  “Holy macaroons, look at that!” Jake was looking at a picture on Junior’s phone, and the other men were all leaning into see it. “I saw that thing when it was sticking out of old Jonesy’s chest, but it sure looks mighty sharp and wicked after they pulled it out.”

  “Pass that over this way, Junior,” I said with my hand extended across the table. “Let me take a look.”

  Brody swung his head toward me quickly. “Oh, Miss Howard, I don’t know. I know you’re a nurse, but this was a pretty gruesome scene, especially after the ME pulled the stake out. Lots of blood and...”

  I gave him a scoffing glance. “Don’t worry about it, Sheriff. I know I’m just a weak-hearted little female, but I think I can handle it. I’ve seen plenty of gunshot wounds and stabbing victims. I’m, well, a scientist.”

  He folded like a pair of duces in the World Series of Poker. “Oh! Well, of course you are, Mercy...uh, Miss Howard. I wonder what else I don’t know about you.”

  “Probably quite a lot, since we’ve only met a handful of times, Brody...uh, Sheriff.”

  I took the phone from Junior’s hand and held it so Brody and I could both see it. The bloody stake was lying on the ground next to a yellow evidence marker with the number “1” and a yardstick that showed it to be 27 inches long.

  “From the blood on it, it looks like about 10 inches of it penetrated and 17 inches were left sticking out of his chest,” I said. “The sharp end is curled up like it hit something hard.” I gave the Sheriff a curious look.

  “Yeah, we figure it was sticking out of his back when he fell backwards onto the ground, The point got smashed some.”

  For some reason I was fascinated by that bloody stake. It was about two inches by two inches on the wide end – like a two-by-four split lengthwise – and then it tapered to a jagged, splintered point. “Why the evidence marker, Brody? Is this a crime scene?”

  “Oh, no, Miss...”

  “Just call me Mercy, please.”

  “Sure, Mercy. Nah, we didn’t bring in a team. I just had Stan throw one down along with a yardstick for the official record. The medical examiner is pretty professional and picky too. You know Sylvia. We like to document accidents too. Just standard procedure.”

  I thumbed through Junior’s other photos of the scene and stopped on one of Jonesy on his back with the stake sticking straight up towards the camera. “You must have been straddling the body when you took this one, Junior.”

  “Sure was, Mercy. I took it right before you and the Sheriff got there. And Sheriff, this was no accident. Jonesy was murdered plain and simple.”

  “That’s right,” his dad agreed. “Government thugs.”

  “Nope, vampire hunters.”

  “Guys,” Brody s
aid, “This was just a tragic accident caused by a big tornado.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that anymore. “Brody, how fast would that stake have to be flying to go all the way through a man’s chest?”

  “At least a hundred, I’d guess. Why?”

  “Well, at a hundred miles an hour, it would either break his ribs, front and back, or if it went between his ribs it would keep going a lot deeper than 10 inches.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “And look at this picture here.” I showed him one from a few feet away from the body with the stake sticking out. “Do you see that? The part of the stake sticking out of his body isn’t bloody at all above the entry point.”

  “So...what does that mean?”

  “Well, if he fell on his back after the stake went in, the ground would have pushed it up at least a little. There should be some blood on the stake above the wound here...but there isn’t.”

  “Well, the ground was probably soft from all the rain, Mercy.”

  “No, it’s baked hard around the barn, real hard...and the tip isn’t muddy, it’s bent. And look here...” I flipped to the picture taken directly above the stake. “There’s an impression on the top end of the stake, like it was hit with a sledge hammer.”

  “Bam!” Junior raised his fist into the air in triumph. “A vampire hunter pounded a wooden stake through his heart with that little sledge hammer by Jonesy’s dead body! Pour me another beer, Pops.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Gracie! You leave him alone. It’s Wizard’s turn in the wheel! You just sleep in it anyway.”

  I was trying to get an earring in while walking in one high heel as I went over to scold my alpha-female hamster. “Now you behave there, young lady!”

  That wasn’t likely. Grace was always ruling the roost over my sweet Wizard. He has a little dark line of fur on his forehead, and although it doesn’t really look like a lightning bolt to anyone else, he became my little “Wizard” the moment I saw him at the pet store.