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Sheridan Ames, the public face of Ames Funeral Home, was a stringy woman in her late forties. Her hard features were accented by a severe black pantsuit. The only soft thing about her was her luxuriously thick hair, which was a rich brown with red highlights.
Yesterday she had been professionally pleasant when he’d stopped in to confirm that the two bodies had arrived at the funeral home. Today she was cold.
“If you’ve come to look at the bodies again, they’ve been taken to Bristol for autopsy to determine cause of death,” she said.
Grimshaw studied her. Not just cold; she was seriously pissed off at police in general. Since that hadn’t been her attitude yesterday, he took a guess at the reason she had changed. “Detective Swinn was already here.”
“I don’t appreciate being accused of tampering with evidence. I don’t appreciate being accused of taking evidence. Dr. Wallace did go through the pockets of those two men, did confirm their ID. I was with him the whole time, and I made a list of every single item as it was removed and identified. And despite what Detective Swinn wants to put on the report, nothing human killed those three men.”
“Three?” Calhoun had died of the head and neck injuries before the ambulance had reached the hospital in Bristol, but there was no reason Sheridan Ames would have known that.
“The first dead man. The one Vicki DeVine found at The Jumble.”
“Any thoughts about what did kill them?” he asked.
“You should talk to Dr. Wallace.”
“I will. But I’d like your opinion too.”
She had been standing behind her desk, making it clear that she didn’t want to give him time or answers. Now she sat down and invited him to do the same.
“Let’s start with Detective Chesnik,” Grimshaw said.
“The one who died of blood loss?”
He nodded. “His legs were ripped up. Clawed. Could a bear or a big cat have done that?” He remembered seeing a picture of a grizzly bear’s paw next to a human head. The paw was bigger.
“Gods,” Sheridan said. “It should have occurred to me, but I didn’t think about the significance of big forms of terra indigene hunting in The Jumble. Has anyone warned Vicki DeVine?”
“The big shifters aren’t hunting, exactly. Her employees now include one of the Beargard and one of the Panthergard.” And the gods only knew what lived in the wooded land around the northern end of the lake.
She sat back. Grimshaw said nothing, just gave her time to think it through. Finally she shook her head.
“Whatever clawed that man’s legs was bigger than a Bear or a Panther. A lot bigger,” she said. “And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the same thing that killed the other two men. At least, it didn’t take the same form. Clawed hand versus clawed paw.”
“Big hands,” he said softly. “Both Franklin Cartwright and Detective Baker had been killed by something strong enough to pick up grown men and twist them.”
“Yes.” Sheridan sat forward and folded her hands on her desk. “Concerning Detective Baker. Detective Swinn was particularly angry about a missing tie clip when he came by yesterday evening. He insisted that Baker had been wearing one that morning and wanted me to admit that Dr. Wallace or I had taken it. I gather he went back to the boardinghouse and searched Baker’s room for the missing item and didn’t find it, because he was back here this morning, demanding to look at the items that had been with the bodies. Of course, Dr. Wallace had made the arrangements and the bodies had been driven to Bristol at first light, along with everything that had been found with them. I asked him for a description of the tie clip; I know Ineke Xavier asked as well since he was so obsessed with finding it. But he wouldn’t tell us what it looked like beyond being a tie clip.”
“What about Chesnik? Did he have a tie clip?”
“He did. Swinn wasn’t interested in that one.”
Grimshaw thanked her and left the funeral home. But after returning to his car, he sat in the parking lot, thinking.
All the men on Swinn’s team had worn ties and had used tie clips. What was significant about Baker’s? A man wouldn’t wear something expensive on the job, not when he was out investigating. There was always the possibility of losing it somewhere. But maybe it was expensive and Swinn wanted to return it to Baker’s family. Or maybe it had some other significance. Was that why Swinn didn’t want to describe it? Because he didn’t want a description of a particular tie clip going into an official report?
If it had been logged in with the other personal effects, would it have disappeared after Swinn visited the funeral home? And would Swinn, despite being warned off, return to The Jumble to search for the missing item?
Grimshaw started the cruiser and returned to the station.
The black luxury sedan was gone from its parking spot. So were Ilya Sanguinati and Vicki DeVine. Officer Osgood looked desperate to find something official to do.
“Problem?” Grimshaw asked.
“Detective Swinn is upset that I’ve been transferred to this station and am under your command.”
“You have any idea why Swinn pulled you into this assignment in the first place?”
“No, sir.”
Grimshaw sighed. “Well, I’ll talk to a couple of people and see if I can find you a place to stay while you’re working here.”
“I—I’m staying at the boardinghouse.” Osgood’s brown eyes looked huge. “Ms. Xavier threw Detectives Swinn and Reynolds out of her place. Somebody told them she was pitching their stuff onto the front lawn and when they got to the boardinghouse, she told them if they so much as set a toe inside her house again, she would report them.”
To whom? Grimshaw wondered. “Did something happen to upset her?”
Osgood winced. “They fed their prunes to the dog this morning. I guess he got sick enough that the vet from Crystalton came to the house.”
So Swinn would have to find accommodations at a nearby town or withdraw from the investigation. Swinn wasn’t going to withdraw; he shouldn’t have been there in the first place, so he’d be back for the same reason he got involved.
Osgood held out a pink message slip. “Ms. Xavier said to tell you that she’s boxing up the other detectives’ belongings and if you don’t pick them up by tomorrow morning, she’ll donate everything to the volunteer fire department to sell.”
“Did you tell her she couldn’t do that?”
“I’ve heard Ms. Xavier has a smoking gun tattoo on one thigh as a kind of warning.”