Q is for Quarry (Kinsey Millhone 17)

The day had warmed up considerably and the air smelled of wildflowers and weeds. An occasional bumblebee lumbered by, a black-and-yellow gumball in flight. A swarm of gnats danced in the light and a horsefly zipped around, looking for a place to land. This was entirely too much wildlife for my purposes.I’m an indoor kind of person, and I prefer my contact with Nature reduced to the front of a picture postcard.

I heard someone trampling through the grass. I got to my feet, dusted off my jeans, and tucked the book back in my bag. I was expecting to see Dolan. Instead, Cornell appeared, smoking a cigarette he’d cupped in the palm of his hand. He didn’t seem all that happy to see me. His gaze shifted to the open garage door, where the Mustang sat in plain view, its tarp removed, a seal affixed across the opening of the hood.

I said, “Hi. I’m Kinsey. We met this morning.” I flicked a look toward the driveway, hoping to see the deputy arriving, but no such luck.

“I know who you are. What’s all this?”

“A sheriff’s deputy should be here shortly. Lieutenant Dolan thinks this might be the vehicle used to transport our victim. He wants to have it checked.”

“What’s that mean?”

I put a casual shrug in my voice. “It’s no big deal. He wants the evidence technicians to go over it.”

“And Dad knows about this?”

“I’m assuming so,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I’m not sure what the lieutenant told him. You’d have to ask him.”

Cornell frowned. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. “How long’s this going to take?”

“Probably no more than a couple of days.” I was hoping it wouldn’t occur to him we’d be removing the Mustang from the premises. Also, hauling it north where he probably wouldn’t see the car again for months. I didn’t want to deal with him if he raised a big stink.

He hunched his shoulders. “The law allows you to just waltz in this way? You’re on private property out here, same as the house. My dad owns everything as far as that fence.”

I turned and followed his gesture. “I wasn’t aware of that. Lot of land,” I said. “Actually, we had a chat with your father and asked to see the Mustang. He told us to help ourselves.”

“I don’t think he understood what you meant. He didn’t mention it to me.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, no. Not at all. It just seems weird.”

I looked down at the ground, snubbing the tip of my right Saucony in the dirt. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe Lieutenant Dolan can explain it when he gets back. He asked me to secure the car until the deputy arrives. Did you need something out here?”

“I came out to see what was going on. Dad saw you head in this direction, but then you never came back. Where’s Lieutenant Dolan?”

“Ah. I guess he went around the other way. He probably didn’t want to bug your dad while he was watching his show.” I let a silence settle. I didn’t want to manufacture small talk and I wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation on its present course.

“I better let Dad know. He’s not going to like it, but that’s your look-out.”

“Go ahead. Do anything you like.”

Cornell backed up a step and then took off for the house. By the time he reached the driveway, a black-and-white unit was pulling in. When the deputy got out, he and Cornell shook hands. I watched the two men confer, joined moments later by the old man himself. He had his straw hat set square on his head, the rim shading his face. Even from a distance, I could see he’d taken on the air of a bandy rooster whose barnyard was under siege. The conversation continued with a lot of hand waving on Ruel’s part. The three faces turned in my direction. Behind them, Lieutenant Dolan pulled up and parked at the curb. The three of them waited for Dolan and then another discussion ensued, at the end of which the four of them formed a little ragtag parade and trudged toward me.

Dolan introduced the deputy, whose name was Todd Chilton. He seemed to be acquainted with Ruel, and I gathered their relationship predated the current meeting. Chilton was in his late thirties, with dark hair clipped short on the sides and curling slightly on top. He’d loosened his tie, and he took a moment to rebutton his collar before the two of us shook hands.

Ruel peered at me and then turned to Lieutenant Dolan. “This the technician you were talking about?”

“She’s a private investigator. We’ll tow the car to Santa Teresa and do the evidence search up there.”