Grave Undertaking by Mark de Castrique Page B

move to Walker County and be closer to my parents. Raising a teenager and working the crazy hours of law enforcement was a recipe for disaster. I knew I needed help.”
    “Glad it worked out.”
    “For a time. A girl without a mother was a handful. Since she turned eighteen, we’ve hardly spoken.”
    I didn’t know what to say, and so I just nodded and stared at the fire.
    “But Tommy Lee was there for me when I needed him. He knows he can count on me.” He let the statement hang out in the air.
    I got the message. John Bridges was Tommy Lee’s conduit of information.
    “I mentioned the skeleton to Walt Miller,” I said. “He hadn’t heard anything about it.”
    “Surprised him?”
    “Yes, but didn’t alarm him.”
    Bridges nodded. We were having a conversation on two levels and each of us knew it.
    “What did you tell him?”
    “I gave him last night’s news report. The possibility of the body being Sammy Calhoun.”
    Bridges grunted his disapproval. “That leak put a burr up my sheriff’s butt.”
    “I haven’t talked to any reporters.”
    “Miller react to Sammy Calhoun?”
    “Yeah. He knew him. Not well he said but enough to be shocked he was dead. Walt thought he’d moved away. I’d have to say his surprise was genuine. Why’s Ewbanks talking to him?” That was my bullshit question. Bridges probably suspected Tommy Lee had told me about the gun, otherwise what was I doing there? But I asked it so he could repeat it to Ewbanks and keep everything tidy and innocent.
    Bridges smiled. “Yeah, Tommy Lee said you were a good man. Charlotte police?”
    “That’s a lifetime ago.”
    Our conversation shifted to Tommy Lee. I found out Bridges had been the one to get Tommy Lee interested in pigeons.
    “I started with homing pigeons,” he said. “Tommy Lee took an interest. He’d ride out with me some weekends when I was training them. I lived on one side of the county, he on the other. I gave him a couple birds and we’d swap messages.”
    “Must have driven Reece Hutchins crazy.”
    Bridges erupted with a belly laugh. “Man, you got that right. He lives to monitor the police radio. Tommy Lee and I gave up on homing pigeons because hawks were killing them, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Reece had taken up falconry. I suspect you’ve had your run-ins with him.”
    “He’s all right. Just a little insecure.”
    “Tommy Lee always assigned him some duty that was just his. And Reece would perform to perfection. You just had to suffer through his windy descriptions of his efforts.”
    “Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” Ewbanks stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a slight smile on his thin lips. “We’d better head out, Bridges, before you get too comfy. Hate to have you pushing the patrol car if we get stuck.”
    I stood up and the sheriff came over to the fire for a last dose of warmth. Walt followed behind. He looked ten years older and had to steady himself by grabbing the back of a chair.
    “Well, here’s a pretty woman.” Ewbanks reached out to the mantel and picked up a silver-framed photograph. Susan sat on a rock ledge at one of the scenic overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The golden light of the setting sun created a portrait far superior to anything from a studio. The sheriff looked back at Walt.
    “My daughter, Susan,” he said flatly.
    Ewbanks glanced at me.
    “Downright glamorous,” I said, hoping the sweat on my forehead would be chalked up to the fire.
    Ewbanks set the picture down. “She’s a looker all right.” He held his hands out to the flames. “Getting hot in here. You might have to open up some air.” He turned around. “And we’ll let you fellows get back to your high finance discussion. No need to show us out. Thank you, Mr. Miller. I’ll be in touch.”
    They left the house. Walt and I stood motionless until we heard the car engine start.
    “Let’s bag the high finance discussion,” I said.
    “I’d like a drink,” said