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Pewter watched, then called out, “Hey. Hey, I’m still here.”

Harry, a few tricks up her sleeve, ignored the meow.

Tucker lifted her head. “M-m-m.”

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Murphy stuck to Harry.

“A most enticing fragrance.” With that, Tucker loped to the newly planted tree.

Harry didn’t pay much attention to her dog, as Tucker frequently investigated things that were of no interest to Harry. The tiger cat and human walked toward the buildings.

“You’re giving up. Lazy!” Pewter yelled, louder now.

Harry kept walking. In front of her, Tucker was digging furiously at the base of the river birch.

“Hey.” Pewter emitted a shriek, the timber of which pleased Harry.

Harry giggled. “Two more minutes and she’ll have a hissy fit.”

“Make that one.” Mrs. Murphy giggled too.

Reaching the fence, Harry climbed over, then beheld Tucker tearing at the base of the new tree.

“Tucker! Tucker, leave it!”

With attention diverted from her game to Tucker, Pewter ran across the pasture to join the dog.

Now there were two animals determined to dig up Claiborne’s new birch tree. Already Harry’s mind was calculating what it would cost if they ruined it.

“Dammit.” She swore under her breath as she hurried to the spot.

Pewter didn’t look up, but, more obedient by nature, Tucker did. She stepped back.

Harry grabbed the dog’s collar to pull her back, Tucker’s snout covered with mulch and dirt. A sickly odor assailed Harry. It was a foul odor she recognized.

Looking down, she saw part of a worn shoe and a glimpse of an ankle. She let go of the collar, peered intently. With the toe of her boot, she brushed off a bit more mulch and soft earth.

No mistake, this was the foot of a sufficiently dead human.

April 28, 2015

Three Hours Later

Sheriff Shaw, Deputy Cooper, and a forensic team of three stood over the emptied makeshift grave. The body, after being placed in a bag, had already been taken away. The police photographer had reached the scene just as Rick and Cooper did, and had been able to document the unearthing, paying particular attention to the positioning of the corpse. The dead person had been folded up, knees to chin, arms tied to torso, and placed on its side under the tree. It wasn’t clear if the corpse was put there as the tree was planted or later.

When Harry discovered the foot and ran to Claiborne’s office, they both hurried back to the grisly find. Shocked, but clearheaded, Claiborne pulled out her cellphone from her jacket and called the sheriff. Harry had left her cellphone in the truck. Claiborne, a quick thinker, then called her husband, Tom, instructing him to pull and copy the records for the purchase of the river birch as well as the date it was planted.

She and Harry then returned to the stables, where they asked everyone to remain on the premises until further instruction. As is often the case, some took this news better than others, especially those mothers who kept a tight schedule. Claiborne calmly but with authority told the ladies—it was mostly ladies—that no one could leave The Barracks until Sheriff Shaw released them. Which would likely be soon.

Harry mentioned, “Claiborne, call Tom again and tell him what you’ve done, then post someone at the drive in. Sheriff Shaw should be here within fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Tom,” she hollered, and her blue-eyed husband appeared from the opposite direction, in the stables. “We’ve got to keep people out until the sheriff allows traffic, and Harry says she thinks he’ll be here in twenty minutes. Can you go down and sit at the entrance?”

“Of course.” He hurried out to bar the road with his car.

Once he arrived, Rick appreciated the quick thinking. He told Claiborne that everyone could leave and asked if she would mind, with Harry’s help, making a list of who was at The Barracks now, including staff. Once the body was transported from the scene, Coop came up to the office.

“I found it!” Pewter bellowed from Claiborne’s desk, which she’d commandeered.

“Pewter, shut up,” Mrs. Murphy ordered.

Tom handed Cooper the paperwork for the transplanted birch. She read the company name aloud: “Huber Landscaping.”

“They’re landscaping Marshall Reese’s development, Continental Estates, over there on the back side of The Barracks. Seemed like a good time for us to replace our tree that died,” Tom said.

“Did you select the type of tree?” Coop flipped open her notebook as she asked Claiborne.

“Tom did. Once I saw what he was talking about, I thought it was beautiful.” Claiborne caught herself looking out the window at the sheriff’s vehicles, then she returned her gaze to the deputy.

“Tom, did you go to the nursery at Huber’s to pick out the tree?” Coop asked.

“Did. We’ve known the Hubers forever. By the time I got to UVA, Paul was no longer a student. I met him when he took over his father’s business.”

“Was Paul on the site when the tree was planted?” Coop continued.

“No. He came the day before. Checked everything out. Had his supervisor with him, and the next day they arrived with one of those huge machines that easily excavates earth. The tree was in the ground in less than two hours. Most of the time was spent throwing the earth back on, packing it down, and staking the trunks.” Tom filled them in. “That bill is a copy for you.”

“Thank you.” Cooper folded it, placing it inside her front pocket.

“May I ask, do you know who was in that grave?” Claiborne, having seen the ankle, hoped she didn’t know to whom it belonged. But she did.

“It’s Frank Cresey,” answered Coop.

April 29, 2015

Morning

With her notebook flipped open, Cooper sat in Paul Huber’s office. Three of its walls were floor-to-ceiling windows so Paul could observe the activity in the nursery. One of the ways his father had figured out to build a better landscaping business was to manage the company’s own nursery. The savings passed on to the customer made for loyal customers over the decades. If Paul Huber said he was going to do something at a certain price, no matter what, storms, floods, acts of God, he did it.

In the distance, Cooper could see a large pond filled with water lilies.

Following her gaze, the still athletic-looking Paul said, “We can do aquatic landscaping. It’s a small market, but really a fascinating one. You’d be surprised how a landscaped pond can bring in waterfowl. People enjoy that.”

“I think I would.” She smiled, then said, “Appreciate your seeing me on short notice.”

Sitting opposite her by the coffee table, he replied, “Officer, when you called, I was shocked to hear about Frank. He’d failed spectacularly and…” Paul stopped, started again. “Frank was in the grip of something we can’t understand unless we’ve been visited by that demon. No matter what, remember he once achieved greatness. He was an All-American and UVA hasn’t had but so many. We’re not Nebraska or USC.”