“Don’t you want to know what I found in Number 9 warehouse?”
Cooper gave her a sharp look. “If you did find something, you’ll complain about the price.”
“Follow me.”
Harry climbed back in her Volvo station wagon. She’d parked outside Hill’s office once she’d cruised through her favorite warehouse so her excuse for being in Farmville wouldn’t be a total fib.
“Why should I follow you to see furniture?”
“Cooper, please follow me.”
Something in Harry’s voice made Cooper close the door to the slicktop, turn the key, and tag behind her neighbor.
Once at the warehouse, Harry opened the showroom door for Cooper. “Ready?”
Cooper stepped inside and stood a moment. “This place is huge.”
“Four big floors, I think. But what I want you to see is right here on the first floor, the flashy showroom floor.”
Briskly walking, Harry reached the middle of the cavernous building. Pumpkins, mums, and Halloween witches overhead all drew attention to a stunning country kitchen with a solid oak table, easily seating twelve.
“Look.”
Cooper followed Harry’s forefinger to a figure in the corner of the display room, among ghosts, more pumpkins, and little goblins popping out of the pumpkins.
“Jesus.” The officer whistled.
In the middle of this lively display was a scarecrow with a drab undershirt, old pants with a rope belt, worn-out work boots, the sole separating from the left one. A straw hat topped it off. An exact replica of Joshua Hill.
Squares of fabric and seed catalogues littered Cooper’s desk at police headquarters. Peering at her computer screen, she scanned a list of clothing manufacturers.
Eyes watering, she clicked off her computer, got up, stretched, and went outside. She tapped out a long coffin nail, lit it, watched the sky shift colors.
Sometimes taking a smoke break cleared her mind. Along with an increased chance of lung cancer, she’d get better ideas. After a few thoughtful minutes, she ground out the stub, walked back in, tidied up her desk, and left for the day. She’d worked overtime this Tuesday but didn’t mind.
Driving home, she noticed the last of the day birds returning to their nests. A few bats were already out and about. She liked bats; they kept the bug population down.
Thinking about bugs and pests snapped Coop back to this strange scarecrow case. After Harry had pointed out the unsettling look-alike dummy, Coop had sent her on her way, then had gone to the store’s office and asked to see their display person. In Coop’s mother’s day, that individual would have been called a window dresser regardless of what part of the store they decorated.
The display person was named Melinda and the young lady worked in the store full-time. Well groomed, well spoken, she was well dressed, good-looking.
Cooper was good at relaxing people. She sat the light-blonde-haired woman down in the middle of one of her own displays. After a bit of chitchat, she asked Melinda about the scarecrow.
“Don’t you love the boots?” she gushed. “They aren’t as easy to find as you might think and …” She trailed off. “Sorry. I get enthusiastic about these things.”
“No, no, that’s fine. But did you work with anyone else on that particular display?”
“No. I do all the work here in Number 9. The guys help me move the furniture but that’s it. Actually, I like that I can let my imagination go.”
“Would you have any way of knowing if someone asked specifically about that scarecrow?”
“No. No one asked me, but, Officer Cooper, there’s a great volume of foot traffic through these warehouses, especially on the weekends. People come from all over Virginia, even from out of state. Lots of volume.”
“Did you have any particular inspiration for the clothing?”
The young lady thought for a moment. “No. I mean, just the scarecrows I saw as a child.” She grinned. “Can’t be a scarecrow without a big straw hat.”
“Would you mind giving me a list of where you bought the pants, the shirt, the boots, and the hat?”
“Not at all. If you wait a minute, I can print it out for you.” Melinda hurried to her office, returning to Cooper in ten minutes, just enough time for the deputy to see an end table she wanted.
“Thank you,” Cooper said as she quickly perused the list Melinda had given her. “I guess anyone could buy this clothing.”
“That’s the idea.” Melinda smiled.
Cooper smiled back. “I won’t take up much more of your time. Did you know Joshua Hill?”
“No.”
“Do you live in Farmville?”
“No. I live on the eastern edge of Buckingham County and drive in. I’d like to move down here when I can afford it. May I ask you a question? What’s this about?”
“Friday, October 11, Josh Hill, who had an accounting business near here, was murdered in Albemarle County. His dead body was found on Saturday. It was a big football weekend. Didn’t make the front page of the papers until Monday.”
“That’s horrible.”
“He was dressed just like your scarecrow here.”
Melinda’s eyes popped. “How awful.”
“Well, yes, but it must have been a lot of work to dress him up, I would think.”
Melinda paused. “The straw man took me about an hour to get all the clothes on, then make a head, paint on features. He’s not exactly scary or gruesome. I mean, a scarecrow isn’t, but I think a human one would be awful. I wish I could help you, but anyone could have come in and seen my scarecrow, and the clothing isn’t unique or anything.”
“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Cooper handed her her card. “If you should think of something or if someone as to come in here and seem really focused on your display, let me know.”
“I will.”
Later, Cooper replayed that conversation. She felt the young woman was telling the truth. It had been a shot in the dark, but that’s what she did. Lots of shots in the dark, lots of scraps of paper, old receipts, chewing gum wrappers, computer records, if she could get them. The endless gathering of data, most of it useless. But it only takes one perfect clue to point you in the right direction.
After being sent home, Harry drove leisurely through Dillwyn, then west through Scottsville on Route 6. At Route 151 she turned right, right again on Route 250 to head home to Crozet. The late afternoon sun’s magical light enhanced every field and stone wall, even those raggedy few gas stations on the way.
Tuesday, October 15, was just a gorgeous day, the kind that makes one forget the suffocating heat of summer or the soon-to-come frigid winter days.
Hester Martin’s stand stood up ahead, decorated even more lavishly than usual. Two farm trucks were unloading produce and there stood Hester, in witch’s costume, directing the men. Next to Hester a well-groomed black mini schnauzer kept an eye on the men.
Laughing, Harry parked in the lot.
“Woo woo,” Harry called out as she got out of the car.
Hester turned and picked up her broom, to shake at her.
The deliveryman closest to Hester ducked.
“Olin, don’t you dare drop one apple,” she admonished the man.
Jake, in the bed of his truck, leaned over with another wooden crate of plump green apples. “You fly with that broom, Hester?”
“I’ve got my pilot’s license,” she sassed. Then, to Harry, she said, “Girl, you just go on and pick out whatever you want. I can’t leave these boys for one minute. They need constant supervision. Heidi is helping.” Hester indicated the schnauzer. “She belongs to my old friend Cindy Walters, who’s around here somewhere.”