One Foot in the Grave - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,35
be released any time now.”
“Perhaps you could give them a call and see what’s what?” Bart suggested.
Marco was about to say something when the radio close to his shoulder squawked. He picked up the mic and pressed the button. “Deputy Roland.”
There was a second of static, then a male voice. “Deputy, the all clear has been given for the construction site.”
“Copy that.” Marco hooked his mic back onto his shirt and gave Bart a deadpan look. “Well, what do you know? It’s like you’re psychic.”
Bart smiled. “Oh, a little birdie might have told me the order had been given to release the construction site. You’ll always be a step behind, Marco. Always. Best keep that in mind.” He grabbed the evidence tape and gave it a hard jerk, his eyes glittering with evil.
I was about to blast him when the other deputy rounded the corner and shouted in alarm, “You can’t do that!”
“He can,” Marco said. “We just got the all clear.”
“Carly, would you like to see where the bones were buried?” Bart asked, “Oh, come now. Don’t be shy. Or perhaps you’re frightened,” he cajoled,
I was scared, but not of the hole or the bones. I was scared of what Bart Drummond had up his sleeve now. “Sure,” I said, trying to sound breezy. “Why not?”
“Carly,” Marco warned in a low undertone I was fairly sure Bart couldn’t hear. The radio squawked again, and he cursed under his breath.
Ignoring him, I stepped over the ripped-down yellow tape, toward the right side of the hole.
“I hear the bones were buried over here in that shallower area to the left,” Bart said as I approached, waving his hand in a sweeping motion. “About three feet deep. Why do you think that is?”
“I couldn’t say, Mr. Drummond.”
He smirked. “Mr. Drummond. So respectful.”
I held my tongue. Any answer I gave him would only feed his ego.
“I’m not a law enforcement officer,” Bart said in a slow drawl, “but I would think it meant whoever did it was in a hurry to dispose of her body.”
“I suppose you would know,” I said in a dry tone.
He laughed. “I know you don’t have a high opinion of me, Ms. Moore, but I’m not a stupid man. And only a stupid man would hire an excavation crew to dig in an area where he’d buried someone.”
“Perhaps you didn’t know where she was buried,” I challenged.
“I would make it my business to know where every body on my property was buried,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Let’s not forget that the man who ran your many acres of property was a known killer. Perhaps he buried bodies in locations you’re unaware of.” I gestured to the shallow location. “Case in point.”
He chuckled. “Carson Purdy was not a murderer.”
“I’m sure Bitty, the former cook at the tavern, would disagree. But she can’t since she’s buried in the Drum Cemetery.”
“We have no proof that he killed her,” he scoffed.
“Actually…” I said, tired of this game. “I saw him kill her. And so did Wyatt. Not to mention Carson shot Marco twice and fired at your son in the woods.” Why was I having this conversation with him? It was pointless. “This has been a lovely chat, but I need to be on my way.” I turned to head back to the parking lot.
He called after me, “I want you to tell me what you find out about Heather’s death before you take it to the sheriff’s department.”
I turned back to face him. “Excuse me?”
He took a step closer. “I know you’ll be lookin’ into it. You can’t help yourself. I’m offering you my encouragement and support. In fact, Emily would love to have tea with you this afternoon. She can tell you anything you need to know about Wyatt and Heather.” When he saw my surprise, his grin spread. “Now, does that sound like a man guilty of murder?”
“Not until you said you wanted me to take the information to you before I talked to the police.”
He laughed. “That doesn’t make me a murderer, Caroline. It makes me controlling.”
I whipped my head around to see if anyone was within hearing range. Marco and the other deputy were by one of the patrol cars.
“Your secret is still safe with me,” Bart said, although the for now had obviously been left unsaid. “Shall I tell Emily to expect you at three?”