Dirty Devil Read online

  He swore and hurried his steps toward the little red Porsche he’d bought for his last birthday. At least he’d had the sense to park near the door. Not that it did much good. He could barely see a foot in front of his face. It was as if all the color had been sucked out of everything around him, and he was surrounded by a black-and-white movie. Except for the sky. It was greenish in hue and reminded him of the bruises that had covered the woman who’d testified against his client earlier that day.

  His teeth chattered, and he shoved one of the champagne bottles under his arm so he could reach for the keys in his pocket. He hit the unlock button and saw his lights flash, and then the champagne bottle slipped out from under his arm and he heard the shatter of glass.

  “Damn.”

  His reflexes weren’t as swift as they normally were, and he juggled his keys and the other bottle ungracefully, managing to save the last bottle, but not the keys.

  He swore, looking at the keys sitting atop the glittering shards of glass, and went unsteadily to one knee. He was already soaked to the skin, so a little more didn’t matter. He picked gingerly through the glass for his keys, and didn’t even feel the slice across his finger as he picked them up.

  This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his night going. John hurriedly made his way toward the car, no longer in the mood to crack open the remaining bottle of champagne, or even see Kimmie in the little black number for that matter. He wanted a hot shower and another glass of whiskey, not necessarily in that order.

  It was a good half hour drive home, maybe longer with the weather the way it was. He had half a mind to stop at the little motel in Bloody Mary since it was closer. He wasn’t fit for company, and his mood would have Kimmie holding out on him for a week.

  He jerked the door of the Porsche open and tossed the champagne bottle on the passenger seat. He turned to slide in when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. The blow crashed through his skull, and he felt something break inside him. Then again. By the third blow he felt nothing at all.

  1

  I was a traitor.

  I knew it deep down in the pit of my soul, and the brief flash of guilt took me by surprise. But after a moment of self-evaluation, I decided I didn’t care all that much.

  “I’ll take a dozen glazed, and two coffees to go,” I said to the perky girl behind the counter. “And I’ll take a vanilla crème and a Nutella-filled too. But put them in a separate bag.”

  My name is J.J. Graves, and I’m the coroner for King George County, Virginia. During my tenure, I’d spent more than my fair share of time on the news due to the fact that I was married to the sheriff, so I was fairly well known in the community. My celebrity status had recently extended to state news, and had even been picked up by the big stations in D.C.

  I think it’s because small, country crimes have a certain flair about them that the big city doesn’t have to offer. I don’t know if it’s because people in the country have more time to be creative, that they might have more tools at their disposal, or that they’re just plain crazy, but I’ve had some interesting cases come across my slab the last couple of years.

  I’m not ashamed to say the specialty donuts were just for me. If I put them in the box with the others the wolves would descend and I’d be left with nothing. I knew this from experience. Some lessons were hard learned.

  I heard the judgmental cluck of a tongue behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I was on a mission to get in and out of Lady Jane’s Donuts without too many people seeing me. A mission I’d clearly failed at considering the number of times I’d frequented the shop.

  “Sure thing, Doc,” the girl said. “Here’s your number. You can wait over there.”

  I took the ticket and felt the flush creep over the back of my neck. There were no secrets in Bloody Mary. I knew my traitorous actions had already been reported to Tom Daly at the Donut Palace several days ago. But the Donut Palace didn’t have pastries that melted like hot sugar across the tongue and made my eyes roll back in my head. I didn’t want to tell Jack, but Lady Jane’s Donuts came a very close second to sex.

  There were three people waiting for orders in front of me, and there was a line that went clear out the door behind me. Lady Jane’s would be completely sold out of that morning’s fare within the hour. I knew this from experience because I’d showed up twice a little after eight and they’d already put out the closed sign. The difficult acquisition of said donuts made them all the more appealing. Which was why everyone in King George County was schlepping their way to Bloody Mary before the crack of dawn to stand in line, myself included.

  “They’ll go straight to your hips,” Eileen Buckle said, clutching her handbag in front of her. “You won’t keep that young stud of a husband with donuts on your thighs.”

  “How is Arthur?” I asked her, my smile polite. Arthur Buckle weighed four hundred pounds on a good day. I dreaded the day I’d have to bury him. Good help was hard to find. Or at least the kind of help that could put four hundred pounds in the ground with ease.

  Her lips pursed like she’d bitten something sour, and she had the decency to look the other way. To my recollection, Eileen had been a sourpuss for as long as I’d known her.

  There was a snort of laughter from behind Eileen and I turned to see the source. I hadn’t really paid attention to the other traitors. I was too focused on my own betrayal. I’d learned over the past couple of weeks it was best to get in, get out, and never make eye contact.

  “Saw you and the sheriff on the news a while back,” Chuck Grable drawled. “They did a whole exposé about that death hotel down in the Carolinas. Lorelei’s been bugging me for years to take a vacation, but when we saw that all those people were killed right in their hotel rooms, it changed both our minds.”

  “Ours too,” I told him. “I doubt we’ll be taking any more vacations anytime soon.”

  The girl put the lids on the two coffees and pushed them across the counter. It was everything I could do not to pick up the cup and inhale it. I wasn’t a morning person on my best day, and getting up two hours early so I could stand in the donut line made coffee a necessity. I’d never tasted coffee as good as what I held in my hand. Not even Jack’s could hold a candle to it, and that was saying something. I’d spent most of the past week or so with my taste buds burned off because I had no self-control.

  Lady Jane’s had been open exactly two weeks, and I was an addict. A traitor and an addict. It didn’t matter that Tom Daly and I had gone to kindergarten together, and that we’d been on friendly terms our whole lives. I’d thrown it all out the window like a junkie desperate for her next hit.

  “Dr. Graves?”

  The girl behind the counter had clearly been trying to catch my attention, but I’d been too caught up in the liquid black perfection sliding down my throat.

  “Umm, yeah,” I said, clearing my throat.

  “Here’s your donuts,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I told her, gathering everything in my arms.

  “See y’all at the Halloween party,” Chuck said.

  I gave him a thin-lipped smile in reply, and then didn’t make eye contact with anyone else on my way out the door. The only thing I hated more than Tom Daly finding out I’d switched loyalties was the thought of being confined in a room of adults in ridiculous costumes who’d had too much to drink.

  Halloween was a big deal in Bloody Mary, and every year the city hosted a massive Halloween party. I’d managed to skip it in my adulthood, but since I was the wife of the sheriff, it was one of those unspoken married rules that I’d be there with him. But I wouldn’t be caught dead in a costume, unless it was a paper bag over my head to keep me from talking to anyone. I was an introvert, which was why the dead and I got along so well.

  By some miracle, I’d found street side parking, and I’d left my Suburban unlocked for easier maneuvering. It wasn’t my first rodeo when it came to carrying pastries and coffee and getting into a car. But my phone ringing in my
coat pocket threw a wrench in my coordination.

  I carefully put the cups in the center console and the donuts on the passenger seat before digging for the phone. It was Jack. A thrill of pleasure went through me at the sight of his picture on my screen. He’d left before I’d woken that morning. We’d been through a lot together, including the death hotel a few weeks back that Chuck Grable had mentioned.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling as I got into the car and closed the door behind me. There was a car heading toward me and a car behind me, and they were going to fight to the death for the parking spot I was about to vacate.

  “Hey, yourself,” he said. “Let me guess. Lady Jane’s?”

  I narrowed my eyes and scanned the line of people outside the shop. I spotted Betsy Clement about halfway down the block, seemingly focused on the rhinestone boots and fringed vest in the window of the boutique Western wear shop, but I knew she was using the reflection to watch me. The snitch.

  Betsy was Jack’s secretary, and she’d held the position of secretary to the sheriff for almost forty years. She was loyal to the position, knew everything about everyone, and there was no telling how many secrets she’d take to her grave when the time came.

  “Yeah, so?” I asked. “Maybe you need to tell Betsy that snitches get stiches.”

  Jack barked out a laugh and said, “Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well. Word has it the Donut Palace has lost so much business Tom is thinking about closing up shop.”

  I felt bad about that. Really, I did. Tom was a good guy. “He’s just got to reinvent himself. Things will die down once the newness of Lady Jane’s wears off, and he’ll be just fine. Maybe he should start opening at night. How many times have I wanted a midnight donut, but there was no way to get one?”

  “More times than I can count,” Jack said, patiently. “I’ll make sure to pass on your idea to him.”

  “It’s just that Lady Jane’s Donuts are delicious,” I said. “I mean, Tom’s donuts were good, and you don’t know what you’re missing if that’s the status quo. But then I had one of Lady Jane’s and I realized there’s a whole world I’ve been missing out on. It’s an out-of-body experience. Almost sexual.”

  I heard Jack try to cover a laugh, but I wasn’t offended. Jack didn’t love food the way I did. He was an incredible chef, which was a crying shame because he rarely partook of his creations. He liked to cook for others’ enjoyment, most specifically, mine. But Jack’s body was a temple, and I’d learned to stop feeling guilty because my diet consisted of carbs and coffee and his consisted of weird greens and grasses I’d seen animals eat at the zoo.

  But I couldn’t really complain about the results. Most of the men I knew who were Jack’s age had a keg instead of a six-pack. Jack’s body was rock hard in all the right places, and if wheatgrass was what it took to keep a chiseled physique, then who was I to stop him?

  “Sexual?” he asked. “Sounds like we need to do a test.”

  I’d been in the process of pulling the Suburban into the street between an opening of cars, but his suggestion had me slamming on the brakes. I managed to keep the donuts from sliding to the floor and I waved at the car that had felt it necessary to honk. I think I might have blacked out for a second. The thought of Lady Jane’s Donuts and sex with Jack in some kind of American Ninja Warrior competition where I was the prize was now in the number one spot on my bucket list.

  “Yes,” I said, enthusiastically. “A test. That’s exactly what we need to do. I can be at the house in fifteen minutes.”

  Jack laughed again, and I was already formulating what I’d say to my receptionist as far as why I’d failed to bring donuts into the office and why I would be late, but Jack burst my bubble.

  “We’ll have to reschedule for another day,” he said. “Maybe you could see what dates Betsy has available in my calendar.”

  “I know lots of ways to kill a man without getting caught,” I said, maneuvering my way between the cars inching closer to my spot. I finagled my way out and headed to the light at the end of the street. The timing was just right for the green light, so I made a left and headed toward the funeral home.

  “You know it turns me on when you say things like that,” he said.

  “That’s weird. Maybe keep that one to yourself.”

  I put Jack on speaker and then dug into the little white bag that had my special treats inside. I had just enough time to finish them both off before I pulled into the carport at the funeral home. Timing was everything. The first bite into Nutella-filled pastry had me making a sound I knew Jack recognized.

  “Before you get too deep into your experience,” he said. “I need you to head out to County Road 642.”

  I thought for a minute and said, “I have no idea where that is. And why do you need me?”

  “We got a report early this morning of a body. I think I’ll wait to give you any details and let you see it for yourself.”

  “Interesting,” I said, pulling to the side of the road to see if my GPS brought up County Road 642. “But maybe lead with the whole body thing next time instead of getting me worked up over donuts and sex.”

  “Noted,” he said. “I didn’t want to ruin your breakfast.”

  “Nothing can ruin my breakfast.”

  It was never a good sign for Jack to wait and let me see a body for myself. And then an image came to mind from the last time he’d said that.

  “Are there cats involved?” I asked, dread snaking through me.

  Several months back, we’d had a case where a homeowner had died and been used as snack food for her many cats. It hadn’t been pretty, and despite the interesting and unusual scenes I’d come across in my career, that had been the one that disturbed me the most. Needless to say, I would never be a cat owner.

  “No cats,” Jack promised. “But the good news is you’ll probably leave with your box of donuts full.”

  “Uh, oh,” I said, squenching my nose. “That doesn’t sound promising. If a bunch of cops pass up donuts it must be bad. By the way, I’m not finding this invisible county road on my GPS.”

  “It’s out past Broken Bow. There’s a big plot of farmland just before you get to the national forest, and there’s only one road. If you make it to the forest entrance you’ve driven too far.”

  “Thanks, that really clears things up,” I said.

  “I do what I can,” Jack said. “It’ll take you a good twenty to get here. Make sure you’ve got your boots. The ground is still muddy from the storms.”

  I looked down at my nice suede boots and was glad he’d warned me. I ruined a lot of clothes and shoes in my line of work. When I was barely scraping by it was a big deal because I couldn’t afford to replace clothes. But since I married Jack, he made sure my wardrobe was well stocked.

  “10-4,” I said. “See you in twenty.”

  I wiped a glob of Nutella from my bottom lip and sighed. We’d had a nice stretch of a couple of months without a murder, but my gut had been telling me the last week that our luck was going to run out.

  I grabbed the second pastry from the bag and took a bite. It was the little pleasures in life the victim would never know again. It was something I didn’t take for granted. Death would come for all of us sooner or later.

  2

  The last couple of days had been brutal. The storms had brought crazy wind, hail, and a couple of tornadoes that had touched down and wreaked a path of destruction across several miles of land. There’d been power outages all over the state, so the electric company was working around the clock to get everyone back up and running. There’d been several homes, cars, and other property damaged, keeping Jack and the other officers doing welfare checks, unblocking roadways, and dealing with the numerous other problems that came with natural disasters.

  I’d really only seen Jack in passing the last couple of days. He came in long after I fell asleep, and was up and gone before my alarm went off. And now, on top of everything else, we had a body to deal with.

  I had
n’t driven every inch of the county like Jack had, so I wasn’t familiar with Broken Bow Road. But it came up on my GPS, which was more than I could say for the county road where the body had been found.

  Potholes were filled with mud and water, and I could see several spots where trees and limbs that had fallen in the road had been dragged into ditches. I followed the muddy tire tracks onto a single-lane gravel road and crossed my fingers I was in the right place. I drove almost a mile, past nothing but trees, before the space opened up into open farmland.

  There was an old white house with a wraparound porch on the right, and there was a big red barn behind it. But all the first responder vehicles were parked farther down the road on the opposite side.

  It was a pretty spot, and fields of wheat-colored grass blew gently with the breeze. There was a slight incline as I continued up the road until the landscape stopped as it dropped off into the Potomac.

  But it was the sight of the body that took my breath away. He—I assumed it was a he based on his size—was propped up on a scarecrow pole, his arms splayed wide and his head covered by a big straw-brimmed hat. I couldn’t see the details, but the front of him was covered in blood. The irritated vultures circling above made me wince. There was no telling what was left of the body. Scavengers made forensics work difficult, especially if there were missing organs that could be vital to the case.

  There weren’t many cops on the scene. Just a handful—Cole, Riley, Hops, Walters, and Martinez. Resources were stretched thin with everything that had been going on with the storms. Shoulders were slumped, and brows were furrowed—exhaustion. It wasn’t a posture I was used to seeing. I looked around, but didn’t see Jack anywhere.

  I left the keys in the ignition and put the donuts in the back seat for protection before I got out onto soggy ground. My boots sunk into mud and I swore as I remembered I was wearing my nice ones, but it was too late to save them now. They squelched with every step as I made my way to the back of the Suburban. I hit the button for the liftgate and sat on the cargo space so I could take my shoes off and start the process of getting suited up.