“Do you think they are tribal members?”
“Not really,” Cooper honestly answered. “Perhaps a few, but remember that white woman who declared herself African American to get a job? People do weird things especially if they believe it confers status. All I know is we now have records from her computer and there will be hundreds of arrests in the original thirteen colonies. People who don’t get wind of this and run away anyway.” Cooper slumped in her chair.
“So she and Panto were in business?” Harry asked.
“Yes, but she was in effect the major stockholder. We’ve got the financial records. Our computer whizzes really are unbelievable. They cracked her codes and we all read the financial statements with our mouths hanging open. The money!”
“So do you have a record of everyone she did business with?”
“Yes, but many of these accounts are under code names like Gray Wolf, Black Bear, that sort of thing. In many instances, the transfer was in cash. She was nothing if not slick.”
“Did she say why she killed Panto?”
“No. She betrayed very little except to say her work involved religion.”
“What?”
“No kidding. She could only say she was supplying goods for religious ceremonies.” Cooper drank a bit more of the coffee, which wasn’t bitter since it hadn’t been sitting that long.
“How can that be?”
“Consider Quakers. Nonviolent people. They can choose not to fight in a war. Yes, they have to register as conscientious objectors but their wishes not to kill are respected. Or the Amish. There are things they can do or not do that the rest of us can’t. This honoring of different faiths, if you will, is even more pronounced for tribes. They have treaties from the United States government allowing them their own government.”
“A recipe for problems.” Harry sighed. “Then again, look what we’ve gone through here just to get our Virginia tribes recognized by that same Federal government that herded people onto reservations.”
“It is confusing. Do I think people are taking advantage of this? No. A few are and the really smart ones like MaryJo do more than take advantage. Once the media gets hold of this it will stir a political hornet’s nest. A lot of MaryJo’s customers are Asian, recently moved here, as well as people from parts of the world we regard as primitive. They believe in spirits and pacifying those spirits. Some of the things, shrunken whale penises, no kidding, are ground up and used as aphrodisiacs.”
“For men, I assume.” Harry started to laugh.
“Well, I’m not going to take it.” Cooper laughed, too.
“It’s a crazy world.” Harry sighed.
“It is and our good old American way allows a certain amount of gaming the system. Remember the First Amendment. There can be no national religion. Mostly it’s good and has served us well. When it doesn’t you have to scratch your head, but remember, Harry, there are people here who believe the earth is flat.”
“Good Lord,” Harry whispered. “Back to all this, you think Panto wanted more money?”
“I do. And I think you were targeted because you shot your mouth off about contraband. Granted, you did not meddle, but somehow you were onto this in your own lopsided way.”
Harry demurred. “I didn’t really figure it out, it just seemed likely, given we found eagle feathers, a cage. Which reminds me, Pierre Rice.”
“We think he was working for the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries. They were well aware of game being poached off our national parks and they were also well aware that this was a billion-dollar industry, much of the goods being sold in the U.S. Pierre, bit by bit, was closing in. He narrowed it down to the big rigs carrying contraband from the mid-South to all directions. First, he looked for big box trucks. But these folks are more subtle than that. They filled new cars being delivered with cages, boxes, et cetera, all cleaned up, of course, and hauled them to Afton pass on Route 64. There MaryJo, Panto, and the people who worked for them, we’re still arresting drivers, met the rig, transferred the contraband.”
“The dead driver’s face?”
“Don’t know. The medical examiner believes he was torn up by an animal. Possibly he realized Pierre was tailing him and he had something really valuable, stopped to free the animal or bird and the creature took his revenge.”
“Good,” Harry replied.
“MaryJo placed all the blame for the murders on Panto before she died. Said Panto killed Pierre, shot at you. Panto had killed Pierre at old Cloverfields, crossed the creek, and dumped him at Sugarday. Granted she was loaded on painkillers, but I wouldn’t believe all that anyway. She proved herself an excellent liar and, if you will, a good businesswoman.”
“Ever find Liz’s Sioux Indian dress, the one that hung on the wall of the shop?”
“No. I have no doubt it is in some rich person’s collection. Maybe in time. I’m amazed we’ve pieced together this much. And in some ways I think Bruce may be telling the truth because if he was in on his wife’s criminal business he would probably have destroyed her computer.”
“Didn’t think of that.”
“Pierre was very close,” Cooper said. “But we don’t know why he went to Cloverfields. Was he lured there?”
“The Rices are descended from the Cloverfields Rices.” Harry folded her hands on the table. “Panto must have known about the chits. Lured him in some way.”
“MaryJo swore Panto robbed Liz’s store for his own personal profit. Anything she could pin on him she did.”
“She wasn’t stupid until the end.”
Cooper nodded.
The phone rang. Harry jumped up to answer the old wall phone that she adored. “Harry here.”
“Harry, can you come over to St. Luke’s?” Reverend Jones’s deep, deep voice asked.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“The Taylors’ grave has been opened. You need to see this.”
“I’ll be right there. Coop will be with me.”
—
Within twenty minutes, Harry, Cooper, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker stood over the opened graves, spades resting on their sides at the piled earth.
“I told you I smelled old bones,” Tucker, self-satisfied, bragged.
“That pearl is as big as a pigeon’s egg!” Harry gasped.
The skeleton, lying faceup on top of a lidded casket, shreds of mustard-colored silk still intact, wore her necklace, for it had to be a woman, a necklace of incredible value and the pearl, the centerpiece, was gigantic. Smaller, matching pearls were earrings. Given the size of the pearl in the necklace, smaller for the earrings was relative.
“Whoever she was, she was rich,” Cooper declared.
“No doubt.” The Reverend shook his head. “How did she wind up stashed on top of the Taylors? Whoever put her here knew the community well. Obviously knew that Michael and Margaret had died together. The earth would be easy to dig.”
“Whoever killed her wasn’t a thief,” Harry posited. “Had to be hate.”
The two fellows who had dug up the grave asked Reverend Jones, “What should we do, Reverend?”
“Coop?” The Lutheran minister looked to the deputy.
“Well, it is a body, so I have to call in the forensic team. Once we get all the photographs we need, you can fill this back in.” She paused, smiled slightly. “I don’t think anyone is in danger. Think we’ve had enough of that.”
“Maybe.” Harry considered the situation. “But someone had an idea about this, else why were the tombstones knocked over and knife marks in the soil?”
“True,” Reverend Jones replied. “Let’s do as Cooper said. This will be a big story for TV and the papers. Arouse a lot of curiosity. Someone may come forward. Really, no harm was done.”
“You dug up the tomb?” Cooper inquired.
“Yes. I just got to thinking and my curiosity got the better of me.” He smiled. “Usually it’s Harry who gives in to her curiosity. I’m glad I did. I will pronounce the service for the dead before she’s taken away.”