The Litter Of The Law

“I ought to arrest you, throw the book at you!” Cooper shouted at Harry two days later, on the street outside Joshua Hill’s office in Farmville.

“For what?”

“Stalking?”

“I came to shop. You have no grounds for suspicion.”

The attractive police officer shook her head. “Harry, how can you look in the mirror after a lie like that?”

“Farmville is famous for its furniture warehouses. I especially like Number 9, so named since all the warehouses had numbers on the outside, easy to see. And come on, Coop, you know I’ve been wanting to get down here for months. It’s been one thing after another.”

Calmed down a bit, Cooper replied, “You didn’t have to come today. You want to know what I found out at Hill’s office, and it was a big zero.”

“His assistant wouldn’t talk?”

“No.” The lean woman put her elbows on the hood of her unmarked car, called a slicktop. “She kind of just answers the phone. She has a million pictures of her grandchildren on her desk. It’s fair to say she isn’t overly involved in her work.”

“But she did note that her boss hadn’t called in?”

“Yes, but she also said a lot of times he worked at home, or he called on clients at their offices.”

“Did she give you a client list?”

“Harry!”

“Hey, you wouldn’t be on this case if I hadn’t found the body.” Though she knew this wasn’t one hundred percent true, Harry still pressed her point. “And murder is a lot more exciting than picking up drunk frat boys who then puke all over the back of your squad car.”

“No drunk has ever puked in my car.”

“Now who’s the liar?”

Cooper took out her service revolver. “I put this to their temple, and tell them if they throw up in my car, I will blow their brains out.”

“I can see how that might work.”

“One time,” the cop mused, “I had to pull over ’cause a guy pretended he was going to be sick, and then he ran into the woods.”

“What did you do?”

“Followed until he tripped and fell. It was pitch-black. Then he threw up. Drunks are truly disgusting.”

“Mmm. Anything of interest in Hill’s office?”

“You enter into a small waiting room. There are a few nature prints, both there and in his office. His desk didn’t have a single paper on it. I’ll get the Prince Edward County Sheriff’s Office to go over it all.” Cooper gave out just enough information to tease Harry.

“You’d think an accountant would have piles of papers on his desk,” said Harry.

“Or some, anyway,” Coop agreed. “Though clients send so much stuff through email.”

“Was his computer in the office?”

“Yes. Obviously, I can’t take it without jumping through all the proper legal hoops, but I’ve already set that in motion. A forensic accountant could find out if Hill was doing anything suspicious. Anything you put into a computer can be dug out. Best to not put it there in the first place. Of course, I don’t know that this murder has anything to do with numbers. Truth is, I don’t know what this murder is about at all. Usually, I get a hunch.”

“Don’t you want to know what I found in Number 9 warehouse?”

Cooper gave her a sharp look. “If you did find something, you’ll complain about the price.”

“Follow me.”

Harry climbed back in her Volvo station wagon. She’d parked outside Hill’s office once she’d cruised through her favorite warehouse so her excuse for being in Farmville wouldn’t be a total fib.

“Why should I follow you to see furniture?”

“Cooper, please follow me.”

Something in Harry’s voice made Cooper close the door to the slicktop, turn the key, and tag behind her neighbor.

Once at the warehouse, Harry opened the showroom door for Cooper. “Ready?”

Cooper stepped inside and stood a moment. “This place is huge.”

“Four big floors, I think. But what I want you to see is right here on the first floor, the flashy showroom floor.”

Briskly walking, Harry reached the middle of the cavernous building. Pumpkins, mums, and Halloween witches overhead all drew attention to a stunning country kitchen with a solid oak table, easily seating twelve.

“Look.”

Cooper followed Harry’s forefinger to a figure in the corner of the display room, among ghosts, more pumpkins, and little goblins popping out of the pumpkins.

“Jesus.” The officer whistled.

In the middle of this lively display was a scarecrow with a drab undershirt, old pants with a rope belt, worn-out work boots, the sole separating from the left one. A straw hat topped it off. An exact replica of Joshua Hill.