Chapter 2

I am not going to throw up, I am not going to throw up, I chanted silently as I stood on the sidewalk, a safe distance from the ominous pile of dirt on Mr. Maguire's lawn.  I am a rational adult with two advanced degrees and this is just a dead body; I am not going to throw up.  The chanting was not working.  Duncan guarded his macabre discovery like a dappled Cerberus from Down Under.  The subdued terriers sat at my feet and watched as Uncle Jimmy ran down the sidewalk toward us.

"What the hell?" he huffed, stopping in front of the hastily dug grave.  "Did you call Jeff?"

I nodded as Duncan padded over to sniff my uncle's shoes.  Uncle Jimmy absent-mindedly patted him on the head and leaned down to have a look.

"I have no idea who it could be," I said, "unless it's Mr. Maguire."

"Nope - Jerry's out of town."  Yes, his name is Jerry Maguire and he is not a sports agent.  "Besides," Uncle Jimmy continued, "there'd be a metal brace on the leg.  I think this is a woman."

I didn't answer; I was still trying to convince myself not to throw up.  I leaned over and took a deep breath. 

"You'd better sit down before you fall down," Uncle Jimmy said.  "Here comes Rob - he'll take the dogs."  I handed the leashes over to Aunt Rob and sat down hard on the sidewalk.  My head was pounding and I was starting to see spots.  The chanting was definitely not working.

"Was she chanting?" Rob asked.  He stepped closer to the mound of dirt and peered at the visible leg.  "That's definitely a woman.  Tory Burch shoes."

Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Rob own an antique business that takes them on buying trips all over the world.  They love New York City as much as they love to shop.  It was Jimmy who finally persuaded my father - his elder brother - to let me take advantage of a great scholarship to Columbia and live with their older sister, Elaine, in the big city.  Between the three of them, they taught me how to dress well, sniff out a serious bargain and put a killer room together.  And not to throw up at important events.  Mastering three out of four isn't bad.

I finally raised my head when I heard a car drive up.  Jake was going to be so disappointed that his father didn't use the siren as he arrived at the crime scene.  Jeff got out of the car and walked over to me, shaking his head.

"Please tell me that you didn't throw up on the body."

"Shut up," I moaned and leaned my forehead on my knees.

Jeff joined the other two men looking down at the dirt pile, evidence of a possible homicide, such as it was.  He took a pair of latex gloves out of his shirt pocket and pulled them on.  Jeff then knelt down and began to brush some of the dirt away from on top of the recently  departed.  "Huh," was all he said.

That got my attention.  His first day on the job and he has a murder case, or at least I thought it was a murder, and all he can say is "Huh?"  I stood up and brushed off the back of my jeans.  "What did you see?" I asked, walking over to my husband.

"I'm not sure."  He took his cell phone out and dialed a number.  "Hey - is Sheriff Wells in?  This is Jeff MacFayden over in Piney Point.  Yep, I'll hold."  He grinned at me.  "Did you hurl?"

"No, I did not."  I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"Not yet, anyway," he said and smirked.  "Yeah - hey Charlie."  Pause.  "First day - listen can I borrow a Crime Scene Unit?  We've got what looks like a homicide here."  Pause.  "Okay, that's great."  After another brief pause, Jeff gave the county sheriff the location, thanked him and hung up.

"Well?"  I asked.  Jimmy and Rob looked at Jeff expectantly.  "What now?"

"Now," Jeff said, putting his arm around my shoulders, "You and the dogs are going to walk up the street to Uncle Jimmy's and stay there.  Rob is going to stay here with the body and wait for CSU while Uncle Jimmy and I go have a look around the other side of Mr. Maguire's house."

"But..." I began and Jeff cut me off.

"No buts," he said.  "Go on up there and sit on the porch and I will come talk to you after CSU gets here.  Don't argue with me, babe.  Just go."

Lord, I hate when he does the babe thing.  I am not the village idiot and he knows it.  In fact, I am sure that I can provide all sorts of intelligent insight into solving this crime.  He knows that, too.  We have discussed his work on a regular basis.  But I also know he really doesn't want me to throw up and contaminate his first crime scene in Piney Point and I would never do it on purpose - but he knows me.  Let's just say I've thrown up on him at inopportune moments in the past and it's never well received.

I trudged up the street with Willie, Mac and Duncan in tow.  We parked ourselves on the porch swing where I had a pretty good view of the initial examination of the scene.  Jeff and Uncle Jimmy came back around to the front of the house and joined Rob at the sidewalk.  I couldn't hear them, but it looked like Jeff was asking them questions.  Well, I'd be getting the lowdown on Jerry Maguire if I were the one asking the questions.  I mean, we've known him since we were kids - but only as an adult who lived three houses down from my favorite uncle.  He's now in his sixties and widowed.  I can't imagine that he murdered anyone, let alone buried the body in his front yard, next to the damn sidewalk.  That's no way to hide a body.  Besides, he couldn't do it without help.  Mr. Maguire is about four-and-a-half feet tall; he wears leg braces and walks with crutches.  No - it's more like he lurches.  He might have beat someone to death with his crutch - but he'd need help getting rid of the body.  And it's not like he could call one of his friends or neighbors and ask them to come by and help him out.  Can you imagine the conversation?  "Hey listen, I just beat Zelda to death with my crutch and I really think I'd like to bury her out by the curb.  Have you got time to stop by and give me a hand?"  I laughed out loud, as I am wont to do at things that really aren't very funny at all.

"I can't believe you found something funny about this already," said my father-in-law as he and Zippy stepped up on the porch.  He turned the rocking chair to face the ongoing investigation and sat down.  "You're picturing old Jerry dragging a body out on the lawn, aren't you?"  He smiled; I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"Well, unless you sneaked out in the night to help him, you know he didn't do it.  Besides, Aunt Rob said he's out of town."

"I know he is," Pop replied.  "Gone all the way up to Wetumpka to see his pen pal.  Cute little thing - showed me her picture."

"At Tutwiler?" I asked.  "She's an inmate?  What's she in for?"

"I didn't ask.  It wasn't any of my business.  So unless the victim's been dead for a couple of days, Jerry's got an alibi."

"Interesting."  I filed that fact away for future reference.  "Was he seeing anybody around here?"  Pop wasn't an out and out gossip like Aunt Rob, but he would answer questions if you weren't too pushy.

"Oh, he used to take a couple of ladies from church out to dinner now and then, nothing serious since Millie passed.  He went out with that spinster teacher from the elementary school for a bit, but she thought he looked like her first husband.  Jerry wasn't having any of that."

"Did they have a fight or did he just stop asking her out?"  I hoped I hadn't gone too far in my line of questioning.

"Are you writing a book?"  Pop said.  "I don't know.  He just said he wasn't aiming to marry anybody."  He narrowed his eyes at me.  "You're startin' your own investigation here, aren't you?  Jeff isn't going to like that."

"I'm just curious, that's all."  I stood up and stretched.  "I'm going on home; I have things to do.  Are you coming or are you going to keep an eye on the proceedings?"

"You just go on," he said as I headed down the steps with the dogs.  "I'll be along directly.  And don't worry, you can question me over lunch."

I tell you - like father, like son.  It's infuriating.