As Gouda as Dead by Avery Aames Read Free Book Online

stared beneath the vat. There were a few inches between the bottom of the vat and the floor to allow for drainage.
    â€œHold on, kid.” Urso tapped O’Shea on the shoulder. “This is all conjecture. Maybe the milk-filled vat is a prank.” He turned to Jordan. “It’s your bachelor party night. I’ll bet Tim stole in here and pulled the chain to release the milk purely to mess with you. He’s planning to tell you there are ghosts on the farm.”
    â€œPretty expensive prank,” I said.
    Jordan spun around. “Tim, are you here? Come on out. You got me.”
    But Tim didn’t appear. The lights started to buzz overhead. Other than that, nothing made a peep.
    I perused the room for some telltale sign that might reveal that Tim had been in the facility. Why would he have come in here instead of Jordan’s house? Violet Walden claimed that both she and Ray Pfeiffer had seen Jawbone Jones tear out of the pub’s parking lot. Had Jawbone caught up with Tim? Had the two fought? What beef could Jawbone have had with Tim? I hadn’t noticed two sets of tire tracks outside, but I hadn’t been looking. The road and parking area had been recently plowed by a snowplow; the pavement was clear.
    â€œWhere’s the plug for the drain?” O’Shea repeated.
    Like the young deputy, I dropped to my knees and searched beneath the vat for the drain. Something small and shiny glinted on the floor. “Hey, look.” I reached for it but couldn’t quite grasp it. My arm wasn’t long enough. “Urso, help me out.”
    Urso squatted beside me. He extended his arm and nailed the object. He rocked back on his heels and opened his palm to reveal a silver-tooled button.
    O’Shea gasped. “That’s . . . that’s from my uncle’s shirt.” Tim liked to wear plaid shirts, especially ones made by a seamstress in town. “He’s in there. C’mon. Do something.”
    Urso raced around the vat. “Let’s empty this.”

CHAPTER

    Jordan said, “That’ll take too long.” He dashed to the wall and seized three cheese-making tools that looked like rakes. He handed one to Urso and one to O’Shea.
    Working together, they propelled the rakes through the vat of milk. It didn’t take long to locate Tim. When they drew him out of the milk, I gagged. He was dead, of course.
    Jordan fetched a large plastic tarp from his barn, and Urso and O’Shea hauled Tim onto it. I saw the deputy wipe his eyes a couple of times with the back of his sleeve. Jordan and Urso did, too. None of them lost total control. Me? I was a mess of tears. What was Tyanne going to do when she heard? She would be devastated.
    While waiting for the coroner to arrive, Deputy O’Shea and Urso moved to the side to chat. I caught snippets of the conversation. The deputy was making the case that Tim was murdered. He ruled out the release of the milk as a prank, reiterating what I’d said, that it was an expensive practical joke, and his uncle wasn’t into waste. Secondly, the bruise at the back of Tim’s head. Thirdly, Tim had called the deputy, upset. And lastly, two witnesses, Violet and Ray, had seen Jawbone drive off in his truck when Tim left the pub.
    Moving to join them, I said “U-ey,” but quickly revised it to “chief.” In a professional setting, he preferred that I not use the nickname he’d been given back in grade school, because his name, Umberto Urso, had two capital
U
s. “Jawbone owns Lock Stock and Barrel.”
    â€œWhat’s your point?”
    â€œHe has all sorts of guns at his disposal. Maybe he forced Tim at gunpoint to go into the cheese-making facility and climb into the vat. Or maybe he sneaked up behind Tim, butted him on the head, and pushed him in.”
    â€œJawbone is a former Olympic biathlete hopeful,” Urso said. “He’s good with guns. An ace shot. Why go