Free The Crafty Teddy by John J. Lamb Page A

parking lot. “We had plenty of time to talk.” There was a long pause and then he shook his head angrily. “Damn. If only I’d gotten that message sooner. Maybe…”
    “Trust me, it wouldn’t have changed anything. But there is a way you might be able to help. You said you’re also the groundskeeper here?”
    “Yep, which goes to show how valuable a history degree is on the job market these days.”
    I nodded sympathetically. “So, would you have been responsible for making sure the lawn and flowerbeds were clear of rubbish?”
    “Yeah.”
    “When did you last do that?”
    “Last night. Call it five-thirty. It was after I finished my other job.”
    “Which is?”
    “I work part-time at Wal-Mart. It helps pay the bills.”
    “Working two jobs can be tough. Was there much trash?”
    “No. Hardly anyone ever comes here. Still, Frank had a thing about keeping the yard tidy.”
    “Which means you wouldn’t have left any candy wrappers or cigarette butts on the ground, right?”
    “Absolutely not.” Gage furrowed his brows. “Why do you ask?”
    I shrugged. “It’s just a routine question. I’m just trying to get some background information on how things operated here.”
    I heard the low hiss of a car speeding down Wheale Road, coming from town. Seconds later, a Sheriff’s patrol car rolled to a stop in the museum parking lot and the vehicle’s trunk popped open. They’d made excellent time considering that Tina had stopped at home to change into her brown and tan uniform and put on her gun belt. Ash went to the trunk and retrieved a metal camera case. Then the two women started up the sidewalk to the house. I was relieved to note that Tina didn’t look angry, so I assumed Ash had temporarily rescued my reputation by talking to her on the way over. Ash gave me a quick smile, but was obviously trying to remain in the background.
    Ordinarily, I call Tina by her first name, but since this was a formal setting, I said, “Sheriff, it’s good to see you.”
    “Has anything else happened since you called?”
    “Just the arrival of Mr. Gage here. He said that Mr. Merrit called and left a message on his answering machine about forty-five minutes ago asking him to come to the museum.”
    Tina looked at Gage. “Did he say why?”
    “No, ma’am. I came right over, but he wouldn’t let me into the museum.” Gage nodded in my direction.
    “Which was exactly what I wanted Mr. Lyon to do. I realize that you’re concerned, but we need to follow our policies and procedures.”
    “I just want to know what happened.”
    “So do we, Mr. Gage. With that in mind, can you please wait outside here for a few minutes until we take a look?”
    “I’ll be right here.” Gage sat down on the steps.
    I followed Tina and Ash up the stairs. Once we were inside and the door was shut, Tina said, “The Medical Examiner is en route, ETA maybe thirty minutes. Where’s the victim?”
    “In there.” I hooked a thumb in the direction of the dining room. “But before we go and say howdy, we should do a quick search of the rest of the building.”
    “For suspects?” Tina cocked an ear toward the ceiling.
    “More likely, other victims. I didn’t hear anything to make me think that someone else was here. If you want, I can check the kitchen while you clear the second floor.”
    “Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in a second,” said Tina, heading for the staircase.
    I gave Ash’s hand a squeeze. “Honey, on the off-chance there’s a homicidal maniac hiding in the kitchen, why don’t you wait here?”
    “Okay, but be careful.”
    “Count on it.”
    I went down the hallway, slowly pushed the door open, and went into the restored nineteenth-century kitchen, which smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. There was a cast-iron stove; a large pinewood table covered with antique cooking utensils; an authentic butter-churn, and thankfully, no dead body sprawled on the floor. Upstairs, I could hear the squeak of wooden