Murder at Monticello by Rita Mae Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

he’d viewed more than his share of corpses: shotgun suicides, drownings, car accident after car accident, killings by knife, pistol, poison, ax—even a piano bench. People used whatever came to hand. However, this was the oldest body he’d studied.
    His assistant, Cynthia Cooper, recently promoted to deputy, scribbled in her small notebook, her ballpoint pen zipping over the blue lines. A photographer for the department snapped photos.
    Rick, sensitive to the situation, arrived at six-thirty P . M ., well after five P . M ., when Monticello closed its doors for the night, allowing for the departure of straggling tourists. Oliver Zeve, arms folded across his chest, chatted with Heike Holtz. Kimball looked up with relief when Harry and Mrs. Hogendobber walked down Mulberry Row. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker trailed behind.
    Oliver excused himself from Heike and walked over to Kimball. “What in the hell are
they
doing here?”
    Kimball, nonplussed, stuck his hands in his back pockets. “We’re going to be here some time, people need to be fed.”
    â€œWe’re perfectly capable of calling a catering service.” Oliver snapped.
    â€œYes,” Kimball smoothly replied, “and they’re perfectly capable of babbling this all over town as well as picking up the phone to
The Washington Post
or, God forbid,
The Enquirer
. Harry and Miranda can keep their mouths shut. Remember Donny Ensign?”
    Kimball referred to an incident four years past when Mrs. Hogendobber served as secretary for the Friends of Restoration. She happened one night to check Donny Ensign’s books. She always did George’s books and she enjoyed the task. As treasurer, Donny was entrusted with the money, obviously. Mrs. H. had a hunch, she never did say what had set her off, but she had quickly realized that Mr. Ensign was cooking the books. She immediately notified Oliver and the situation was discreetly handled. Donny resigned and he continued to pay back a portion of what he had siphoned off until the sum, $4,559.12, was cleared. In exchange, no one reported him to Rick Shaw nor was his name destroyed in the community.
    â€œYes.” Oliver drew out the word even as he smiled and trotted over to the two women. “Here, let me relieve you lovely ladies of this burden. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re bringing us food. Kimball thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”
    Rick felt a rub against his leg. He beheld Mrs. Murphy. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œOffering my services.”
She sat on the toe of the sheriff’s shoe.
    â€œHarry and Mrs. Hogendobber, what a surprise.” A hint of sarcasm entered Rick’s voice.
    â€œDon’t sound so enthusiastic, Sheriff.” Miranda chided him. “We aren’t going to interfere in your case. We’re merely offering nourishment.”
    Cynthia hopped out of the site. “Bless you.” She scratched Tucker’s head and motioned for Harry to follow her. Tucker followed also. “What do you make of this?”
    Harry peered down at the skeleton lying facedown in the dirt. The back of his skull was crushed. Coins lay where his pockets must have been, and a heavy, crested ring still circled the bones of the third finger on his left hand. Tatters of fabric clung to the bones, a piece of heavily embroidered waistcoat. A bit more of the outer coat remained; the now-faded color must have once been a rich teal. The brass buttons were intact, as were the buckles on his shoes, again quite ornate.
    â€œMrs. H., come here,” Harry called.
    â€œI don’t want to see it.” Mrs. Hogendobber busily served sandwiches and cold chicken.
    â€œIt’s not so bad. You’ve seen far worse at the butcher shop.” Harry deviled her.
    â€œThat isn’t funny.”
    Mrs. Murphy and Tucker shouldn’t have been in the site, but so much was going on, no one really noticed.
    â€œSmell