A Deep and Dark December(58)

“I told you to stay outside!”

Her wailing continued, her arms pumping up and down at her sides.

He gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Stop it! Stop it right now!”

She shut off mid screech. Her chin quivered. Tears filled her eyes. They poured over her bottom lashes, spilling down her cheeks.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, noticing the doors opening up and down the street.

“He’s-s-s de-e-ad.”

“Yeah.”

“D-d-do s-s-something.”

“Come sit down.” He guided her to his car and put her in the front seat. “Will you listen to me this time and stay put?”

She nodded, swiping her hands over her face. “I have to call the store.”

“No. No phone calls. I mean it.” Graham eyed the Looky Lou’s who were gathering, leaving their lawns to come see what the fuss was all about. He pulled out his cell phone and called Pax.

He answered on the first ring. “Riggs.”

“Pax, we’ve got another unattended death.”

“Jesus. Another one? Who?”

“Keith Collins.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“I wish,” Graham answered. “And I’m going to need some crowd control.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Graham ended the call in time to be surrounded by neighbors, clamoring for answers.

“Everyone step back,” he ordered. “Go back to your homes.”

“Why’s Carol in your car?” someone shouted.

“What’d you do to Carol?”

“Carol, what’s going on?”

“What’s happening?”

“Keith’s dead,” Carol announced, collapsing into sobs.

The crowd sucked in a collective breath, then pelted Graham with a thousand questions at once, like a swarm of mosquitoes each trying to take a bite out of him. He did his best to control the crowd and managed to stop one morbid neighbor, the McGuire’s oldest son, from sneaking into the house.

By the time Pax arrived with a couple of other deputies, the crowd had Graham backed up against the front door and wondering for the millionth time why he’d come back to this godforsaken backwoods town where everyone knows everyone and they all knew way too much about each other’s business. Seeing Graham’s predicament, Pax put two fingers in his mouth and let out a whistle. The crowd quieted.

“Now, give the sheriff a chance to do his job,” Pax said. “You all go back to your homes.”

“If he was doing his job we wouldn’t have so many people dyin’,” someone shouted.

That started a tidal wave of that’s rights and yeahs.

“Give the boy a chance.”

Every head swiveled to see the newcomer who defended Graham. The crowd parted and Ham came into view. Graham bit back a curse. This was just what he needed. A dead man, a mob of angry neighbors, and now his dad. Ham leaned heavily on the cane he’d used when he’d first come home from the hospital. Graham knew the fact that Ham had conceded his need for the cane meant that he probably should’ve been in a wheelchair. Sweat beaded Ham’s forehead and although his hand shook as he raised it to point at Graham, his back was straight. Damn stubborn old man.

“That there is the sixth Sheriff Doran of San Rey,” Ham said, his voice strong but strained. “He’s here to do his job. Go on back to your houses and let him get on with it.”

There was some murmuring and hard stares, but one by one, the neighbors all went back to their front porches and windows to watch the comings and goings at Keith’s house. When the last straggler finally wandered away, Graham rushed to his father’s side to help him sit down on the front step.

“You shouldn’t be here, Pop.”

“You should be thanking me, not scolding me. Where’s your respect?”

“Sorry, it’s just— ” Graham spotted his father’s car parked across the street. “You drove here?”

Ham pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his forehead. “I can drive just fine.”

But he couldn’t walk the four blocks from his house to Keith’s.

“Pop—” Graham started, then realized he had three deputies waiting for orders. “Deets, start the log. Smith, keep anyone who isn’t wearing a uniform out of this house. Send the coroner in when he gets here. Pax, with me.”

Ham struggled to his feet. Graham considered sending him home, but the firm set of his father’s mouth told him he’d better not even try. So, Graham helped him up the steps.

“You’re an observer,” he told Ham.

Ham waved him off. “No touching. Got it.”

They took off their hats and made their way into the house. Keith’s body was the same as Graham had left it. Now that he could examine the scene without an air raid siren screeching in his ear, Graham noticed a few things he hadn’t the first time he’d been in the room. Keith was missing a shoe. It lay a few feet away near the couch. A lamp had been knocked over, the shards of broken light bulb glimmered like strewn confetti across the hardwood floor.

The knot under Keith’s jaw pushed his head to the side. He looked just as polished, just as perfect in death as he had in real life. Erin had told Graham how upset Keith had been. How panicked and cornered he’d behaved when she’d confronted him about his affair with Deidre. Could Keith really have had something to do with Deidre’s death? Was the baby she’d been carrying his? Had he killed himself instead of owning up to his affair with Deidre?