Free Full Bloom by Janet Evanovich [~amp]#38; Charlotte Hughes Page B

You know Herman Bates sells good-quality furniture at reasonable prices, and he offers discounts if you buy multiple rooms.”
    “So what do you think?” Max asked, nodding toward the grave.
    “Well, I questioned Annie when Mr. Fortenberry first turned up missing and his mother started making all kinds of wild accusations. I’ll tell you, that Eve is a piece of work. But I saw no reason to suspect foul play. ’Course this changes everything. By the way, who found the body?”
    “Doc Holden’s gardener.” Wes pointed to the man, who was sitting on a tree stump, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
    “Who’s he talking to?” Lamar whispered.
    “He’s still pretty upset,” Max said.
    Lamar motioned for the officer who’d finished taking pictures. “I need for you to question that fellow over there,” he said, nodding toward the gardener. “And go easy on him; he looks just shy of a straitjacket.”
    A car pulled into the driveway. Editor Mike Henderson from the Gazette hurried toward them, accompanied by Vera Bankhead, Jamie’s secretary and assistant editor. She held a camera.
    “Oh, cripes,” Lamar said. “Just what I need. Let me do all the talking.”
    “We heard the news on the police scanner,” Mike said. “Somebody found a body in Annie Fortenberry’s backyard,” he added. “What can you tell us?”
    Despite the grave expression he wore, it was hard for most people to take Mike seriously, not only because he was young and still had that fresh-out-of-college look, but also because he was so noticeably unorganized. He seldom ironed his shirts, and scraps of paper fluttered from his pockets when he reached for his stash of pens, which often leaked and had stained most of his clothes. He was known to chase women, and he’d had his eye on Destiny Moultrie for months. Jamie often claimed she was trying to raise him to be a real editor.
    “No comment,” Lamar said.
    Mike just stared back as if unsure what to do.
    Sixty-year-old Vera Bankhead planted her hands on her hips. She looked younger than her age thanks to a complete makeover the year before, which included a Susan Sarandon hairstyle, and a new wardrobe that had put Vera on the top ten best-dressed list for the women at Mount Zion Baptist Church. The fact that Vera never missed a Sunday and could quote Scripture word-for-word did not deter her when it came to getting what she wanted. She could be quite formidable.
    “Cut the bull, Lamar,” she said. “It’s our job to report the news. You know how hard it is to come up with a decent headline in this town.”
    “Are you armed?” Lamar asked.
    “Not at the moment.”
    Lamar looked relieved. “All I can say right now is yes, we do have a body, but we don’t know anything yet.”
    “Do you suspect foul play?” Mike asked.
    Vera looked at him. “That has to be the dumbest question I’ve ever heard. Of course there was foul play. Dead people don’t bury themselves.”
    Mike’s face turned a bright red.
    Vera looked at Lamar. “Do you have a suspect?”
    “If I did I certainly wouldn’t spill my guts to the newspaper.”
    Vera gave a menacing frown. “Are you smart-mouthing me? Because if you are I’ll tell your mama and she’ll slap you from here to Texas. She didn’t raise you to talk back to your elders.”
    This time when Wes looked at Max he was having just as much difficulty keeping a straight face.
    Lamar glanced their way. As if sensing their amusement, he hitched his chin high and squared his shoulders. “This is police business, Vera,” he said, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my mama out of it.” He gave them a stern look. “And I don’t want either of you going near the crime scene, you hear? The medical examiner will raise holy hell if he gets here and finds anything disturbed.”
    Vera tapped her foot impatiently. “How am I supposed to get a picture?”
    Lamar pondered it. “Tell you what. You can take a picture of me pointing to the crime