Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight by Barbara Graham Page B

time Sheila and Mike were almost finished searching their side of the street, Tony walked toward them to compare notes. Sheila was beyond filthy. Dirt mixed with blood coated almost every inch of her. “You looked better when we arrived.”
    “It can’t get worse.” She muttered but changed her story when she crawled under a house on a raised foundation. Holding a flashlight and gun didn’t allow her a way to cover her nose or mouth. She needed the flashlight and might need the gun.
    “Oh, nasty. Something died under here.”
    Mike relayed her message via the radio to Flavio, but omitted some of Sheila’s more colorful, extraneous words.
    “Please, please, let it be something we don’t have to investigate,” Tony said. He could happily do without any additional work.
    “Next house one of us has to climb under is your turn, Mike.” Sheila gasped. “I see what smells so bad. It’s okay, sort of. It looks like a possum.”
    Relieved but sympathetic, Tony and Wade continued their own hunt. They found lots of dirt, some termites, a cranky chicken, and at the end of the road, an even crankier citizen who didn’t want them coming into his yard. “I’ll shoot you if you come on my property.”
    “Fine.” Tony’s patience level dropped from thin to nonexistent. He’d had some dealings with the man before. Miller was his name. “Did you happen to threaten anyone else today, Mr. Miller?”
    “Yep.” Clearly surprised to be addressed by his name, Miller let the barrel on the shotgun waver fractionally. “Just a bit ago. Feller in a white shirt.”
    “Where’d he go?”
    Finally satisfied this particular group came in peace, Miller moved his finger from the trigger and lowered the barrel, pointing it at the ground. “I watched him go between those trees.” He nodded at a couple of scraggly dogwoods outside his fence. “I watched him stomp all the way down to the highway. Looked like a plumber with a big old wrench he was swingin’ like a club.”
    “A wrench?” Tony said. “What kind of wrench?”
    “It was a pipe wrench. Kinda rusty looking.” He frowned, looking thoughtful, “I almost forgot, he had a hammer in his other hand. Looked kinda odd to me.”
    “The man or the hammer looked odd?”
    Mr. Miller chuckled and a gleam of amusement sparkled in his eyes. “Now that you ask, I’d say both of them, but the hammer had a real long claw.” He gestured, indicating about six or seven inches.
    “You notice anything else?” Tony hoped the now relaxed Mr. Miller might remember seeing someone he recognized give their assailant a ride.
    The man nodded. “I might not of seen him at all but for his loud talkin’. He was fussin’ at someone who wasn’t there and givin’ them a real earful. Oo-wee, he was so mad, he was frothin’ worse’n a mad dog.”
    Hoping they hadn’t missed anything during their search, and after getting Mr. Miller’s contact information, they followed the path their shotgun-wielding witness indicated. It was a fairly decent path down to the edge of the highway, probably often used by the nearby residents. It was not a long walk down, so Mr. Miller might have been able to see any vehicle that stopped to pick their assailant up. If there had been one.
    They saw nothing on the shoulder of the highway except an assortment of used fast-food wrappers, cups, beer cans, and a couple of diapers tossed out on the grass by people Tony didn’t want to know. Litterbugs and home invaders were not on a par with each other, but Tony didn’t like either of them.

C HAPTER S EVEN
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    “Sheriff?” Deputy Mike Ott and his bloodhound, Dammit, stood in the doorway. “Have you got a minute?”
    Tony looked up from his paperwork. Even though it was the bane of his existence, he’d rather do it than have to deliver bad news to another family. “What’s up?”
    “I need to take Ruby to Knoxville for some medical tests. Sheila and Holt said they wouldn’t mind covering my schedule, but I