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

a farm dog, but Daisy liked the house. She stuck close to Grandma Jo.
    “Grandpa keeps goats now,” I told the dogs. “They don’t like me much. Or they like me too much. I can’t tell with goats.”
    All but the Bluetick queued up to drop their heads, reminding me of a receiving line at a funeral. They took the scratching without real enjoyment. Once petted, the group broke to resume their anxious wait for Abel.
    “You poor dogs.” I folded my arms to hug out the cold and leaned my forehead against the fence to watch them. “They must have really loved Abel. Glad someone did.”
    Daisy had succumbed to this sort of mourning when we had lost Grandma Jo to cancer. At the time, Daisy had been five years younger than my fifteen, so I had known Daisy the entire time I lived at the farm. Grandma Jo had been the mother my momma couldn’t be and losing her felt like God had given up on the Tucker kids. He took the most tender of the pair that raised us. I tried to find comfort in Daisy, but she couldn’t be comforted herself. Daisy stopped eating. Couldn’t drink. She wouldn’t move from beneath the kitchen table where she had watched Grandma Jo cook.
    Daisy died two weeks later. Grief killed her. We never got another dog.
    I watched this pack waiting for Abel and felt my heart shatter.
    “They said Abel was a drunk and sneaky,” I said. “But I bet these beauties never went hungry. Look, Todd. Mr. Abel put an a/c unit on the doghouse when he doesn’t even have a window unit on his own.”
    The beagle cut her barking to growl, catching the attention of the Labs. They rushed the fence, barking. I turned. Rookie Holt stood near the edge of the house, watching us with her hands hovering near her belt.
    “Shit,” I muttered beneath my breath.
    “What are you doing here?” She strode forward, her eyes narrowing beneath the brim of her cap. “You’re trespassing.”
    “We were careful not to walk near the house and to watch for anything suspicious or recently disturbed,” I said. “I just wanted to see his dogs. I thought maybe there’d be someone here.”
    “I told you there’s no one. Go back to the lodge.” Rookie Holt notched her chin higher. “And stay there.”
    “Why haven’t you—”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Todd grabbed my arm and hurried me forward.
    “Their water bowl is full,” I called over my shoulder. “Mr. Abel’s got one of those self-watering types. Their food bowl too, but I’m guessing that’s because they’re not eating.”
    The dogs began another barking frenzy. A moment later, the sound of tires churning on damp Georgia clay carried to our non-canine ears. Todd and I paused next to a rusted shopping buggy just short of the drive.
    Rookie Holt halted next to us, then took three steps forward. “Who’s that now?” she muttered.
    We watched an old Blazer emerge from the forested lane and bump into the weedy drive. The Blazer jerked to a stop, reversed, and roared back down the lane.
    “Why did they do that?” I wondered aloud.
    “Saw the patrol car, likely. Rick Miller, that sumbitch.” The words slid from under her breath. Catching her mistake, she flushed. Rookie Holt’s rookie status was not improving. “You two go on and get out of here.”
    We did our version of hightailing under Rookie Holt’s young eyes. I waited to voice my question until Todd had pulled out of Abel Spencer’s weedy drive. “Isn’t Rick Miller the name of the local guy in the contest?”
    “I think so,” said Todd.
    “He must have known Mr. Abel. But the way Rookie Holt said his name, sounds like Rick Miller’s about as popular as Abel Spencer.” I worried my lip as I mulled that over. “I need to talk to him.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I just don’t understand how a body lands in the woods and nobody in this town seems to care. Something’s not right here.”

Six

      
    Back in the Twenty Point Bar, Todd and I found the contestants as we had left them an hour earlier, save for a few