Free The Litter of the Law by Rita Mae Brown Page B

ahead.
    “My tire light went on. Reach into the glove compartment and get out my pressure check, will you?” Susan turned in to Mount Tabor’s parking lot. “Oh, dear, Witchy Woo has fallen over. Come on, let’s set her up. They put a lot of work into this. Then I’ll check my tire.”
    The two kept the brights on in the direction of the display and walked over.
    They reached the corn bundles, all the arranged pumpkins, some cut as jack-o’-lanterns, the large baskets overflowing with gourds and squashes. Witchy Woo had fallen uphill onto the uneven ground.
    Harry sniffed. “Something’s gone off.”
    Susan inhaled. “Just. Probably a dead gopher somewhere. He’ll be gone tomorrow.”
    Harry bent over to pick up the tumbled-over figure, noticing that its rubber mask was complete with a long, warty witch’s nose. She stood up again. “It’s not a gopher.”
    Both women stared at the black-clad figure.
    “Good God.” Susan put her hand to her face.
    Harry reached down to pull off the mask.
    Susan shouted, grabbing her arm, “Don’t!”

“A ren’t you off work tonight?” Harry, still upset, asked as Cooper crossed the parking lot in her civilian clothing.
    “I am, but Dabny called me from headquarters and said that you, once again, have found a strange corpse. So here I am. Anyway, I’d like to see this before the body goes to the state medical examiner. You two stay here. I
mean
it.”
    “All right,” Susan firmly agreed. “I’ll take charge of Harry.”
    Cooper turned her back to walk away, then faced them again. “Are you two doing okay?”
    Harry shrugged, and fibbed a tad. “Yeah. It’s gross but …” She shrugged again as Susan nodded in assent.
    The police investigative team circled the display. The photographer snapped, stepping out of the way of the officers.
    Dorothy Maddox, chief of forensics, had only been with the team a year. She was kneeling down, surgical gloves on, carefully touching the corpse’s arm. In the temporary lights now shining on the scene, she studied a swollen hand, and a forearm with purple splotches.
    Cooper stood behind Dorothy. “Thirty-six hours at most, my guess.”
    “Your guess isn’t far wrong. The nights have been cold, the days in the seventies. She’s on the other side of maximum rigor mortis, obviously, but intact, and that’s a huge help.” Dorothy stood up. “Is Rick on the way?”
    No sooner was his name spoken than the sheriff pulled off the road and into the church driveway. He, too, was in his civilian clothes and driving his personal vehicle. He glanced toward Harry, then walked over to the scene.
    “We’ll need to dust everything. The pumpkins, the baskets, every single thing.” He took a deep breath, then coughed slightly. “I hated to leave my ball game, but this is, well, original.” He paused. “There’s nothing like the odor of death, is there? It isn’t even that bad yet. I’m surprised the body wasn’t damaged.”
    “Boss, can I remove the victim’s mask?” Dorothy asked. “I waited for you.”
    “Yes, of course.” Rick motioned for all the lights to shine on the witch’s face.
    Carefully, Dorothy removed the rubber mask with the hooked nose.
    “My God,” Susan exclaimed, as she could see the face with the flashlight focused on it. “It’s Hester Martin!”
    Harry recognized her all the way from where she stood in the parking lot. She covered her mouth with her hand, then let it fall. “Hester Martin. She never did a thing to anybody.”
    Tears filled Susan’s eyes for the middle-aged lady. Her mind flashed to Hester proudly showing off produce, filling her specially decorated wooden wheelbarrows, some worn and painted green, some barn red, some faded marine blue. Large wheels were yellow with a pinstripe matching the color of the painted display cart. Hester had a good eye for proportion and color. Theproduce gleamed, as she had misted it, too. Susan’s tears rolled faster now. She met Harry’s eyes.