Read Online Rest In Pieces by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rita Mae Brown
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mean?”
“No.”
Rick grunted when he stood up. Cynthia Cooper wrapped the hand in a plastic bag.
“If you follow me, I can show you!” Tucker yapped and ran toward the cemetery.
“She’s got a lot to say.” Cynthia smiled. She loved the little dog and the cat.
Shaw inhaled, then exhaled a long blue line of smoke, which didn’t curl upward. Most likely meant more rain.
Tucker sat by the graveyard and howled.
“I, for one, am going to see what she’s about.” Harry followed her dog.
“Me too.” Cynthia followed, carrying the hand in its bag.
Rick grumbled but his curiosity was up. Blair stayed with him. When the humans reached the iron fence Tucker barked again and walked over to the angel with the harp tombstone. Cooper flung her flashlight beam over toward Tucker.
“Right here,” Tucker instructed.
Harry squinted. “Coop, you’d better check this out.”
Again Cynthia got down on her knees. Tucker dug in the dirt. She hit a pocket of air and the unmistakable odor of rotten flesh smacked Cynthia in the face. The young woman reeled backward and fought her gag reflex.
Rick Shaw, now beside her, turned his head aside. “Guess we’ve got work to do.”
Blair, ashen-faced, said, “Would you like me to go back to the barn and get a spade?”
“No, thank you,” the sheriff said. “I think we’ll post a man out here tonight and start this in daylight. I don’t want to take the chance of destroying evidence because we can’t see.”
As they walked back to the squad car Blair halted and turned to the sheriff, now on another cigarette. “I did see something. The night of the storm my transformer was hit by lightning. I didn’t have any candles and I was standing by my kitchen window.” He pointed to the window. “Another big bolt shot down and split that tree and for an instant I thought I saw someone standing up here in the cemetery. I dismissed it. It didn’t seem possible.”
Shaw wrote this down quickly in his small notebook as Coop called for a backup to watch the graveyard.
Harry wanted to make a crack about the graveyard shift but kept her mouth shut. Whenever things were grim her sense of humor kicked into high gear.
“Mr. Bainbridge, you’re not planning on leaving anytime soon, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. I might need to ask you more questions.” Rick leaned against the car. “I’ll call Herbie Jones. It’s his cemetery. Harry, why don’t you go home and eat something? It’s past suppertime and you looked peaked.”
“Lost my appetite,” Harry replied.
“Yeah, me too. You never get used to this kind of thing, you know.” The sheriff patted her on the back.
When Harry walked in the door she picked up the phone and called Susan. As soon as that conversation was finished she called Miranda Hogendobber. For Miranda, being the last to know would be almost as awful as finding the hand.
----
11
At first light a team of two men began carefully turning over the earth by the tombstone with the harp-playing angel. Larry Johnson, the retired elderly physician, acted as Crozet’s coroner—an easy job, as there was generally precious little to do. He watched, as did Reverend Herbie Jones. Rick Shaw and Cynthia Cooper carefully sifted through the spadefuls of earth the men turned over. Harry and Blair stayed back at the fence. Miranda Hogendobber pulled up in her Falcon, bounded out of the car, and strode toward the graveyard.
“Harry, you called Miranda. Don’t deny it, I know you did,” Rick fussed.
“Well . . . she has an interesting turn of mind.”
“Oh, please.” Rick shook his head.
“Pay dirt.” One of the diggers pulled his handkerchief up around his nose.
“I got it. I got it.” The other digger reached down and gently extricated a leg.
Miranda Hogendobber reached the hill at that moment, took one look at the decaying leg, wearing torn pants and with the foot still in a sneaker, and passed out.
“She’s your responsibility!” Rick pointed
“No.”
Rick grunted when he stood up. Cynthia Cooper wrapped the hand in a plastic bag.
“If you follow me, I can show you!” Tucker yapped and ran toward the cemetery.
“She’s got a lot to say.” Cynthia smiled. She loved the little dog and the cat.
Shaw inhaled, then exhaled a long blue line of smoke, which didn’t curl upward. Most likely meant more rain.
Tucker sat by the graveyard and howled.
“I, for one, am going to see what she’s about.” Harry followed her dog.
“Me too.” Cynthia followed, carrying the hand in its bag.
Rick grumbled but his curiosity was up. Blair stayed with him. When the humans reached the iron fence Tucker barked again and walked over to the angel with the harp tombstone. Cooper flung her flashlight beam over toward Tucker.
“Right here,” Tucker instructed.
Harry squinted. “Coop, you’d better check this out.”
Again Cynthia got down on her knees. Tucker dug in the dirt. She hit a pocket of air and the unmistakable odor of rotten flesh smacked Cynthia in the face. The young woman reeled backward and fought her gag reflex.
Rick Shaw, now beside her, turned his head aside. “Guess we’ve got work to do.”
Blair, ashen-faced, said, “Would you like me to go back to the barn and get a spade?”
“No, thank you,” the sheriff said. “I think we’ll post a man out here tonight and start this in daylight. I don’t want to take the chance of destroying evidence because we can’t see.”
As they walked back to the squad car Blair halted and turned to the sheriff, now on another cigarette. “I did see something. The night of the storm my transformer was hit by lightning. I didn’t have any candles and I was standing by my kitchen window.” He pointed to the window. “Another big bolt shot down and split that tree and for an instant I thought I saw someone standing up here in the cemetery. I dismissed it. It didn’t seem possible.”
Shaw wrote this down quickly in his small notebook as Coop called for a backup to watch the graveyard.
Harry wanted to make a crack about the graveyard shift but kept her mouth shut. Whenever things were grim her sense of humor kicked into high gear.
“Mr. Bainbridge, you’re not planning on leaving anytime soon, are you?”
“No.”
“Good. I might need to ask you more questions.” Rick leaned against the car. “I’ll call Herbie Jones. It’s his cemetery. Harry, why don’t you go home and eat something? It’s past suppertime and you looked peaked.”
“Lost my appetite,” Harry replied.
“Yeah, me too. You never get used to this kind of thing, you know.” The sheriff patted her on the back.
When Harry walked in the door she picked up the phone and called Susan. As soon as that conversation was finished she called Miranda Hogendobber. For Miranda, being the last to know would be almost as awful as finding the hand.
----
11
At first light a team of two men began carefully turning over the earth by the tombstone with the harp-playing angel. Larry Johnson, the retired elderly physician, acted as Crozet’s coroner—an easy job, as there was generally precious little to do. He watched, as did Reverend Herbie Jones. Rick Shaw and Cynthia Cooper carefully sifted through the spadefuls of earth the men turned over. Harry and Blair stayed back at the fence. Miranda Hogendobber pulled up in her Falcon, bounded out of the car, and strode toward the graveyard.
“Harry, you called Miranda. Don’t deny it, I know you did,” Rick fussed.
“Well . . . she has an interesting turn of mind.”
“Oh, please.” Rick shook his head.
“Pay dirt.” One of the diggers pulled his handkerchief up around his nose.
“I got it. I got it.” The other digger reached down and gently extricated a leg.
Miranda Hogendobber reached the hill at that moment, took one look at the decaying leg, wearing torn pants and with the foot still in a sneaker, and passed out.
“She’s your responsibility!” Rick pointed
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