Rosewood Lane (Cedar Cove #2)(77)

Roy shrugged. Corrie didn’t say it, but they both knew he just couldn’t leave that one alone. The hours he put in these days were without compensation. Grace had given him a budget and the money ran out before he’d found answers.

“Troy Davis phoned,” Corrie told him. “He made an appointment for this afternoon.”

Now, this was interesting. The local sheriff was only a nodding acquaintance. Roy had spoken to him a few times and their paths had occasionally crossed. Roy liked Davis well enough, but the sheriff didn’t seem quite as sure of him. Reserving his opinion, Roy supposed, pending more evidence.

“Did he say what he wanted?” he asked.

Corrie shook her head. “Not really, just that he might have a bit of work for you.”

At three o’clock exactly, Troy arrived and Corrie ushered him into Roy’s office. Roy stood up to greet the sheriff, who was an inch or two taller than his own six-foot height and had a bit of a paunch. Too many hours spent behind a desk, no doubt. They exchanged handshakes and then both sat down.

Troy crossed his leg over his knee, drew a toothpick out of his shirt pocket and poked it into the corner of his mouth. He waited a moment, then asked, “Do you remember a while back there was a death out at the Thyme and Tide? The Beldons’ bed-and-breakfast.”

Roy did recall reading about it. The story was almost a classic. A stranger who’d appeared in the middle of a stormy night and booked a room, was found dead in the morning. No apparent cause. After the initial front-page article in The Cedar Cove Chronicle Roy hadn’t heard any more about the mysterious stranger, although he recalled one additional detail. The article had stated that the man carried false identification—a driver’s license that said he was James Whitcomb from somewhere in Florida.

“We still don’t have a name for that John Doe.” Troy frowned. “For a while, Joe Mitchell thought we might’ve stumbled across Dan Sherman.”

“Dan? Surely someone would’ve recognized him.”

“Our John Doe had undergone extensive cosmetic surgery. He’s about the same build and coloring as Dan, which was why we brought Grace in to take a look at him. I felt bad about that. It was pretty traumatic for her, but she’s a strong woman. I admire that in her.”

“So it wasn’t Dan.” Roy figured he might as well state the obvious.

“Naw.” Troy’s gruff response lacked humor. He shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “That would’ve been too easy.”

“What did the John Doe’s fingerprints tell you?”

Troy dropped his leg and leaned forward. “Unfortunately not a damn thing. He didn’t have any. Apparently he lost them in the same accident that resulted in the plastic surgery.”

“Just bad luck? Or do you think he might’ve had them removed on purpose?” That was another possibility, although in the age of DNA, not as likely. But then, DNA technology was relatively new.

Troy raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that his ID was false. He comes into town, stays at a bed-and-breakfast, and then turns up dead. Autopsy hasn’t determined anything conclusive. It isn’t your usual run-of-the-mill scenario.”

Now Roy was the one frowning. “Do you think he might be part of the Witness Protection Program?” Funny how he’d been entertaining that very notion regarding Dan Sherman a few hours earlier.

“I thought of that myself. There’s only one way to find out, so I contacted the local FBI.”

“They were willing to help?”

He nodded. “I gave them everything we had and they got back to me a week ago and said not.”

So much for that possibility.

“What about the vehicle?”

“A rental.”

“Has Mitchell got any ideas, at least, about the cause of death?”

Troy bit down on the toothpick. “Like I said, nothing in this case is coming easy. Frankly, we don’t know. From everything Bob and Peggy told us, he looked perfectly healthy when he went to bed. Bob said he seemed anxious to get to his room, but Peggy attributed that to tiredness. It was late.”

“So what does Mitchell think?”

“He can’t pinpoint anything out of the ordinary. He’s ruled out just about everything. It wasn’t his heart. Not all the toxicology reports are back, but it wasn’t any of the common poisons. Basically, we just don’t know what killed him. Seems he was healthy one minute and dead the next.”

“Time of death?”

“According to Joe, it looks like he died in his sleep shortly after he arrived at the Beldons’ place.”

Roy had to admit to being more than curious now; this case was downright fascinating. “I don’t think you made this appointment just to discuss ideas with me. How can I help you?”

Troy Davis removed the toothpick and discarded it in the garbage can next to Roy’s desk. “I can’t classify this as homicide, but nothing’s adding up here. He carried fake ID, but then a lot of people do.” He sighed loudly. “I don’t have the manpower to invest in this case. I was hoping to hire you as an independent contractor to help us identify our John Doe. And if you happen to come across any other information, so much the better. We’d be grateful to find out anything we could.”