Read The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5) for Free Online Page A

as lodge guests. But those Swinton police were a bit prickly.”
    “I didn’t notice, but you are more tuned into that sort of thing.”
    “Well, offering to bring casseroles to victim’s families makes Swinton police awfully prickly.”
    Todd cut me a quick worried look. “Baby, you don’t know how to make a casserole.”
    “Exactly. That’s why I thought a personal condolence more appropriate. Which is why we’re headed to Mr. Spencer’s home. Maybe some kin or friends are hanging about. I can give my respects and get on with the weekend.”
    We could hear the dogs before the sorry homestead came into view. Abel Spencer’s property had been carved out of a bit of woods on the edge of Swinton. A house as big as a thimble with rotting steps and sills. The pine tar-stained roof had more depressions than the moon had craters. No vehicles in the drive, although a redneck smorgasbord propagated among the weeds. Old grills and dead lawnmowers. Assorted pipes and wooden wire spools. Even Piggly Wiggly shopping buggies.
    This sort of image was not uncommon in my hometown of Halo. Everyone knows spare parts come in handy. Grandpa Ed threw away nothing. My alleged convict of a brother kept a revolving collection of broken-down vehicles in Grandpa’s barn. True, the farm didn’t have this appearance of a recent tornado touchdown, but I could cut Mr. Abel a break. It sounded like he had been a bachelor. Left to their own devices, men often needed cleaning up after.
    “No yellow tape,” I noted.
    “I thought his death was an accident,” said Todd.
    “But still, any accidental death like this should require some investigation. Uncle Will usually traces the victim’s steps back a couple days before their death .”
    “Maybe the police didn’t make it out here yet.”
    “In that case, we better be careful. Don’t want to leave any unnecessary evidence.”
    “I thought you were just looking to offer sympathies. You didn’t say anything about looking around the man’s property.”
    “Do you hear those poor dogs? I just want to check on them. Where’s the harm in that?”
    Todd gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me for a minute but popped the Range Rover door. That’s the good thing about Todd. He’s got a sense of adventure. Even if he doubted my motives, he’d go along with me anyway.
    We picked our way around the rusting junk, circling away from the house and checking for the mark of recent trampling so as not to disrupt any investigational clues. At least the drizzle had stopped, leaving behind a damp cold that seeped beneath reindeer sweaters and darkened already somber moods.
    Behind the house, the weeds gave way to the soft matting of pine straw. I paused in wonderment. What Abel Spencer had not spent or maintained on his house and yard, he had on a dog kennel. Rubber coated chain-link enclosed a half-acre that included a large cedar shed with doggy-sized doors that looked like a home where Snow White’s small friends could comfortably reside. From behind the fence, an assortment of breeds watched my approach. A yelping beagle. Three galloping Labs. A springer spaniel. Some kind of pointer or setter paced the fence line. And behind them all, a Bluetick Coonhound wailed.
    I ambled toward the fence, speaking in calm, low tones. The dogs greeted me, their eyes piteously sad, the heads drooping, tails pointed at the ground. My heart hiccuped, but I kept my voice strong and easy to buoy their mood.
    “Hey there,” I told the pack. “Are you missing Mr. Abel already? You’re good dogs, aren’t you?”
    The tails wagged in agreement, but without joy. Slick noses pushed through the chain link and I put my palm up for each to smell in turn.
    “We used to have a dog at the farm.” I spoke to Todd, but meant my words for the dogs.
    “I didn’t know that.” Todd’s long fingers fondled a Lab ear.
    “This was before Grandma Jo passed. Daisy was a mutt, not like these pedigrees. She was meant to be