33
Blood was lightly splattered over the windshield of the white Jeep.
When Deputy Cooper arrived, the motor was still running.
Jerome Stoltfus slumped to the side of the steering wheel. He had been shot in the back of the head, the bullet exiting through his forehead and out the front windshield.
Cynthia double-checked her watch. Ten twenty-one P.M., Wednesday night, June 23. She pulled on thin latex gloves and felt for a pulse in Jerome’s neck. None, which she expected. The body was cool but not yet cold.
She peeled off the gloves, walked over to Little Mim. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Little Mim’s face was bone white.
“Excuse me while I call Rick. Then I’ll ask you a few questions and you can go home.”
“Coop, you do whatever you have to do,” Little Mim, who was shocked but in control, replied.
Cooper punched in to the dispatcher. “Get me the sheriff. Wake him up if he’s asleep.”
Within minutes she heard the familiar voice. “Better be good.”
“Jerome Stoltfus. Shot through the back of the head. Yellow Mountain Road, about two miles from the entrance to Rose Hill.”
“Be right there.”
Cooper returned to Little Mim. “Did you see any other cars?”
“No. Nothing. I was coming back from Aunt Tally’s and I noticed the Jeep pulled off the road. I slowed because I knew it was Animal Control, and I wondered if Jerome was picking up an injured animal since I couldn’t see him. So I pulled up behind and walked to the embankment, but I still didn’t see him. That’s when I looked in the car. And that’s when I called the sheriff’s department. I knew he was dead the second I saw him.”
“It’s a shock to see someone like that.” Cooper was genuinely sympathetic.
“Yes, it is,” Little Mim answered slowly, “but what went through my head was, ‘Who got him first?’ I mean, everyone was furious with him.”
34
Coroner Tom Yancy bent over Jerome Stoltfus at twelve-thirty Thursday morning.
He had gotten out of bed and rushed down to meet Sheriff Shaw. The two men had worked together for over fifteen years. If Rick called him at midnight it was important.
Wearing a lab coat, Rick observed closely as Yancy inspected the wound.
“A great deal of damage to the skull.” He pointed to what was left of Jerome’s face on the right side. “See the angle? The gun was held in the right hand, placed snug against the base of the skull—look at these powder burns—and fired upward at this angle. The bullet emerged above the right eye and pretty much took out that side of the head. Death was instantaneous. Did you find the bullet? Large-enough caliber to do this—thirty-eight, forty-five more likely.”
“No. Cooper’s back where Jerome was found. Wasn’t on the hood of the car or in front of it. She’s good. If it’s there, she’ll find it.”
“Hmm.”
Rick nodded, as he knew what Yancy was thinking. “Our perp could have picked it up. It’s a possibility.”
“Mm-hmm. He’d be a lucky devil, but he’s been lucky so far.”
“Guess you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”
“Guess I am.”
Rick slapped his hand against his thigh. “Damn. Damn! Yancy, I don’t know any more than when I started investigating Barry’s death.”
“You know more about rabies. I’ll send in brain tissue to Richmond on Jerome, by the way.”
“Christ, if he tests positive for rabies I suppose we’ll have to barricade the town.”
“People tend toward the irrational.” Yancy carefully picked up a bone fragment with tweezers as Jerome’s hand twitched.
“I hate that,” Rick said ruefully.
“I’ve had them sit bolt upright.” Yancy laughed.
“You and I get to see what nobody else wants to.”
“The human body is like a map. If you know how to read it, you’ll find your destination.” Yancy peered at the shattered skull. “Let’s keep his head just the way it is until Jason can take photographs tomorrow. Okay by you?”
“Of course.”
“Want to stay for the rest of his autopsy?”
“Sure. You got out of bed for this. The least I can do is keep you company.”
“You added a little excitement to my life.”
“Are you being humorous?”
“I’m a laugh a minute.” Yancy put down the long stainless-steel tweezers. “I’ve cut open two young men and now Jerome. He’s young, too, although there was something odd about Jerome. He always seemed like an old man who would wear cardigans.”
“Yeah.”
“Now, Sugar and Barry worked together. One was clearly murdered. The other could have picked up the disease at the same location. What I’m saying is the vector of infection was the silver-haired bat, and it’s not a far putt to consider they both may have been bitten in the barn or somewhere on that farm or some farm they visited together. But Jerome—well, I’d say this is getting very interesting.”
“Went over every building at St. James with a fine-tooth comb. Yancy, nothing. Nada. Zero.”
“Have you asked yourself what Barry and Jerome had in common?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“I think Jerome was figuring out how Barry and Sugar contracted rabies. I don’t know if he figured out what it was that made Barry dangerous to someone, unless it was about rabies.”
Both men looked down at the mortal remains of Jerome Stoltfus.
“Better hope he kept good notes.”
“Our computer wiz is in Jerome’s office right now. His logbook was on the seat of the car.”
Yancy pulled the sheet over Jerome, the blood seeping through it the minute it touched Jerome’s broken face. “Funny thing is, you know the killer knows that. You’d better believe he flipped through that logbook.”
“He couldn’t get to the computer.” Rick paused. “Well, I take that back. I don’t know who walks in and out of Jerome’s office, and I don’t know what Jerome put on his computer.”
“Did you send someone to his house?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve covered the bases.”
Rick spoke to the corpse. “Jerome, we underestimated you.”
35
At six Thursday morning the phone rang in the tack room. Harry had already brought the three hunters in so they could eat peacefully in their stalls. She was heading out to the barn to check on the broodmares when the phone called her back.
“Hello.”
“Harry,” Susan breathlessly said, “Jerome Stoltfus was shot to death on Yellow Mountain Road.”
“You’re kidding.” Harry didn’t believe it, but, then again, so much was happening that was out of kilter.
Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker, hearing the change in Harry’s voice, trotted into the tack room to listen.
“I’m not kidding. Little Mim found him last night.”
“Good God.” Harry, who had been leaning over the desk, dropped into the old wooden office chair. “How’d you find out?”
“Little Mim called Ned when she left the scene. She wanted to know since she found the body what might be expected of her legally. Just her testimony, of course, but Little Mim’s careful—more careful than I perhaps realized. And then she wanted to ask his advice on how to handle this at the next town-council meeting. She and Ned have become political cronies even though they’re from different parties.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” A flare of anger escaped Harry.
“Because it was late and you were asleep. Don’t get testy,” her best friend said frankly.
“Anyone caught?”
“No.”
“Damn.” She grabbed a pencil and began doodling on a notepad. “I can’t pretend I’ll miss him. He was insufferable.”