“I’m close to the original office.” Crackling. “I don’t want to leave his body.”
“Whose body?” she demanded.
“Oh! I figured out what to do. I’m calling Sheriff Moore.” Click.
Argh! Surely Jane wasn’t so annoying when she stumbled upon a corpse.
Adjusting her route, she pumped her arms to pick up speed. She flew past the statue of Muffin, the cemetery’s canine guardian, then zigged and zagged between residents, all while doing her best to avoid party goers still searching for clues.
“Sorry!” she rushed out anytime she grazed someone.
When she crossed into Eden Valley, the crowd vanished. From there, she hurried past the mausoleum and entered Paradise Ladling, an area filled with her relatives. To discourage visitors in this particular section, she’d temporarily shut off the lights along the pathway. It helped that towering trees covered in Spanish moss blocked the moonlight.
With a fresh burst of energy, Jane crested a slope.
“Whoa. Slow down there, girl,” commanded a voice from the shadows.
With a jolt, she skidded to a halt. Who the heck– “Oh! Sheriff Moore.” She pressed a palm over her racing heart as he stepped forward. “What are you doing, skulking about?”
“I wasn’t skulking. I dropped my phone, which doubled as my flashlight. But the light switched off upon impact. Considering it’s pitch black out here and I can’t navigate the winding hedgerows by memory, I decided to wait for you. I knew you’d come along sooner or later.” He tapped his temple. “That’s called using my resources.”
“Hang on.” Having left her own phone behind, she jogged to a nearby gardenia bush without flowers. Small wooden chests with flashlights were hidden in every section of the Garden. A just-in-case practice started by Grandma Lily and continued by Jane, though she’d progressed from bulbs to LEDs. There should be a chest right…here.
The ancient lid lifted with a groan, and she reached inside. Tada! With a flick of her thumb, they had light. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to locate his phone.
“I also use my resources wisely,” she said, handing over his property.
As they moved forward, he made a quick call to a deputy, requesting backup. Despite the evening chill, sweat glistened on his concern-etched face. “What did Fee tell you?” he demanded as soon as he hung up. “I spoke to her only minutes ago, but couldn’t get much out of her.”
“Only that she’d found a man’s body in this area. But I don’t see her anywhere nearby. Or the body. Do you?”
“Nope,” he said, huffing and puffing.
Well. “She must be somewhere behind the big tree.” Jane held her breath as they rounded the massive hickory in question. What was she soon to find? “Did she tell you who died?”
“Negative.”
Her stomach curdled. Who, who? Desperate for answers, Jane continued forward, scanning the darkness until she found a swath of light. Approaching an overgrown crape myrtle, voices reached her ears. Through a tangle of branches, she finally spotted her friend, leaning against another oak, holding a lantern.
Conrad knelt beside the body, using his phone as a flashlight. Oh, thank goodness! There was Beau, off to the side, whispering with his three coworkers. He hadn’t perished on her ancestral estate.
“All right. I need everyone to step back,” Conrad called as he straightened. “Now.” He stretched out his arms, prompting the group to obey. He’d gone into full GBH mode.
Sheriff Moore beelined straight to Fiona, who made a beeline for him, too. “Fee!”
“Oh, Raymond,” Fiona cried, burrowing into his big frame. “The night wasn’t supposed to end this way.”
Needing a little comforting of her own, Jane launched herself at Conrad. He didn’t wave her off but caught her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, holding her steady. She’d reached her safe place. Which meant…
Time to focus. She had another mystery to solve.
Jane noted the victim’s features. Thick dark hair streaked with gray. The beginnings of an unkempt beard. Thin and wiry frame, like a caged animal. His identity clicked. This was none other than Tony Miller. Her onetime lawyer and two-time murder suspect.
Tony lay on his side, one cheek resting upon a small puddle of blood. A smear of crimson wet the other cheek. His open eyes stared at nothing. Patches of his skin possessed a purplish, grayish tint. His dark, three-piece suit was wrinkled, but not torn. A couple feet away rested a fallen fedora hat.
“What happened?” she asked with a slight tremor.
Conrad kissed her temple. “I’ll let the others explain. I’ve got to make a call.”
“Yes, of course.” Justice for Tony came first. She understood. After giving the agent a reassuring squeeze, she stepped aside.
Conrad told the sheriff, “Considering I’m on the scene and GBH has handled the last two murders in Aurelian Hills, I’m taking the lead on this. Keep Jane, Fiona, and Beau with you. Do you have deputies who can block the guests from this area and corral everyone in the tent? No one leaves without permission.”
“I’ve called for reinforcements, and they should arrive any minute,” Sheriff Moore said. “Until then, we can send Beau’s team to do the blocking and corralling.”
Conrad nodded, then made his call.
A man assured of his authority, the sheriff motioned to Beau. “You heard him, son. Over here with me.” To Isaac, Holden and Trick, he barked orders, sending the threesome flying in opposite directions. Through it all, he maintained his hold on Fiona.
Jane walked over, kissed her friend’s cheek, then hugged Beau. “I was so afraid it was you.”
He pulled back and gave her shoulder a reassuring pat. “I’m pretty tough to kill.”
Conrad spoke into his phone, “No ma’am, I do not enjoy disturbing you on your night off. But there’s been another death at Garden of Memories in Aurelian Hills. Probable homicide.” A pause. He scowled, his gaze cutting to Jane for a moment. “Hard to say until we learn time of death.” Pause. “No ma’am, half the town surrounded her.” Pause. “Yes ma’am. Give the case to Hightower if you want. I understand.”
Great. Jane was a suspect right off the bat. But okay. No big deal. She just needed to figure out what the heck happened. Conrad had said probable homicide. What made him discount, say, an accidental drug overdose? Hadn’t Fiona mentioned a needle? Tony could’ve fallen and hit his head on a rock.
Determined to collect photographic evidence to study later, Jane traded her flashlight for Beau’s phone. And the dear man let her. “Keep the light as close to the body as you can.”
The second her friend complied, she snapped as many crime scene photos as possible, as stealthily as possible. No need to trouble Conrad by asking for permission...and doing it anyway after he told her no.
“The killer made doubly sure Tony died,” Beau explained quietly. “He—or she—hit him in the head with a bag of our gold at least three times. His body also shows signs of a drug overdose. Fiona plucked a syringe out of his neck when she found him. She dropped it in the grass, near the hat.”
Icy cold crept down Jane’s spine. “She’s a suspect, isn’t she?”