CHAPTER 7
THURSDAY AFTERNOON, MAY 5
Dan had mercifully left Annie alone after giving her the news about Lavender. She thought of calling Martha and letting her know, but then recalled their conversation yesterday and intuited that the “bit of a shock” Martha had alluded to was Lavender finding Eloise Carr dead in her home. She refused to think about Lavender’s possible involvement with any drug thefts. Lavender was so squeaky clean that she probably didn’t take Aleve for menstrual cramps but chewed some kind of plant bark instead.
However, Lavender’s reputation for truthfulness was not entirely spotless, as Annie had learned during the few short weeks she had shared her home with her half sister. True, most of Lavender’s lies had been those of omission—for example, her failure to tell their shared bio father that she was taking his Aston Martin on the road without a valid driver’s license. Or assuring Annie she was skilled in paranormal animal communication, and had deep connections with local Native American elders, who probably ran when they saw her coming. Yet deep down, Annie knew that Lavender’s deceptions were deployed only to cover up her own insecurities and lack of confidence. These reasons hardly compensated for her half-truths, but they were somewhat understandable. Somewhat.
The horses were far out in the pasture now, enjoying new, delicious spring grass and, judging by their absence, had zero interest in what was taking place back at the stables. Annie wished she could be as blasé as her herd. She walked over to Leif, the local volunteer fireman who had the distinct honor of driving the prized fire truck housed in Oyster Bay to every local accident and disaster. Leif also sheared her sheep twice a year. Privately, Annie thought Leif was a better shearer than EMT, but she kept her opinion to herself.
Leif and the fire truck had arrived five minutes before the sheriff this morning. This was hardly surprising; Annie knew that Leif kept his police and fire radio on 24/7 and he was four miles closer to her place. He was standing by the barn now, trying to get information but, judging by the lack of interest around him, not getting very far.
“Hey, Leif.” Annie walked up and stretched out her hand.
“Annie! Can you believe it? We’re working on another case together.”
Her sarcastic nature, Annie’s way of trying to control her temper, emerged again.
“Hardly, Leif. I just happened to find a dead woman swinging from the barn rafters this morning. Not an everyday occurrence, so I thought I’d share it on the airways so all my neighbors could take a look, too. Have you had the pleasure yet?”
Leif, immune to Annie’s gallows humor, ignored her rude rejoinder and answered honestly.
“Not yet. They’re still doing their thing in there and won’t let me have so much as a glance. I could be here three more hours until they cut her down and let me haul her over to Hank.” He sounded so crestfallen, Annie laughed.
“Most people don’t relish the job of transporting stiffs.”
“Annie, that’s not fair! I’m just trying to do my civic duty and earn a living. I’m happy to help out, you know I am, but I got to pay the bills, too. And the garage pays me only when I’m there.”
He had a point. Like many Peninsula residents, Leif cobbled together several professions in order to survive. Fall and spring, he’d be working on every sheep operation within a fifty-mile radius. During the winter, he was a dependable grease monkey at the Oyster Bay garage. Annie wasn’t sure what Leif did during the summer. He probably went out on his sailboat and drank beer. And why not? Summers on the Peninsula were too precious to waste working inside all the time.
“Have you learned anything?” she asked Leif.
“Only that she’s a twenty-year-old local female and probably died from asphyxiation, possibly also cerebral hypoxia. That’s typically what happens from a short drop.”
Bile filled Annie’s mouth.
“How do you know all this?” Leif probably took books about causes of death to bed with him, Annie thought.
“Oh, I just try to keep up on things that might pertain to my job,” he said modestly. “You know I’m taking the police officer exam next month.”
“I had no idea, Leif.” Annie was honestly surprised. “But good for you. I get that Ashley was strangled by the twine. But cerebral hypo . . . whatever you said. I’m assuming that means her neck was broken? That’s what I always thought happened when a person hanged.” Annie’s knowledge of death by hanging was limited to what she’d seen in old Westerns.
“Ashley? You know her name?” Leif asked eagerly.
Why not? It’ll be in the online edition of the Port Chester Gazette tonight, if not already, Annie thought. The printed version wouldn’t be out for another week; the local newspaper came out only on Wednesdays.
“Ashley Lawton,” Annie clarified. “She actually came here yesterday afternoon, looking for work at the stables. Not sure why she chose to hang herself here.”
“Whoa. That’s deep.”
Annie thought “deep” didn’t cover the half of it. She felt immense guilt over Ashley’s death, and wished, for the hundredth time, she’d offered the young woman a job when she’d asked for one. At the same time, she felt a small surge of anger for Ashley’s decision to kill herself on her ranch. She had a feeling that the memory of encountering Ashley’s body would never quite go away.
“Obviously, I didn’t have work for her. But to stage her body so I’d find it . . . it just seems harsh. Or, to be honest, it doesn’t fit with what little I know of the woman.”
“Well, I’m real sorry, Annie. I mean, how were you supposed to know how depressed she was? Did you know her very well?”
“Not at all. Apparently, she’d heard me speak at a horse club meeting a few years back and remembered me. But her face didn’t ring a bell with me.”
“Weird. Well, as I was about to tell you, she probably didn’t break her neck at all—rope’s too short. That’s why it’s called a short drop. She might’ve lost consciousness first. Happens if the noose tightens and blocks the jugular vein and carotid arteries. Without a lot of blood flow to the brain, she’d be out of it, and probably wouldn’t even know she was being strangled.”
“Well, let’s hope so,” Annie said fervently.
“No kidding. The other scenario isn’t as pretty. If she was conscious, it might have taken her ten, twenty minutes to actually die. I’d hate to be awake for that.”
Annie felt a bit sick.
“Although, if the rope had been longer, she might’ve broke her neck, and death would be virtually instantaneous,” Leif prattled on.
“LEIF!” Dan Stetson’s stentorian voice bellowed out, and the sheriff angrily strode toward them.
“Leif, you don’t know what the Sam Hill you’re talking about. You haven’t seen the body, you don’t know the victim, and you sure as hell don’t know forensic science. So quite scaring Ms. Carson here and get back to your job.”
Leif looked sheepishly at Dan.
“Sorry, Sheriff. Annie was just asking if I knew anything about what happened when people hung themselves.. . .”
“I find that highly unlikely. More likely you were just shooting off your mouth to make yourself look smart. If you want to pass that exam next month, I suggest you go back to your truck and pick up your law enforcement manual. You won’t be the first to flunk just because you think you already know everything.”
Leif slunk away, avoiding Annie’s eyes.
But Annie wasn’t looking at Leif. She wasn’t looking at anyone. She was looking inside her own mind, going over the scene she’d memorized of Ashley hanging motionless and silent in her cavernous barn. Something Leif had said was troubling her.
“Sorry, Annie.” Dan put one of his massive paws on Annie’s arm. “Leif just gets carried away sometimes with his own so-called book smarts.”
She shook it off. “Dan,” she said urgently. “Let’s go someplace private where we can talk.” She motioned to the tack room, off the stables. It was as peaceful a place as any on her ranch right now. Once inside, she dusted off a chair and motioned for Dan to sit down. She sat on the only other chair in the room. Annie didn’t often have human visitors here.
Dan’s cell phone squealed. He gave a short curse and jabbed a button on the screen with one of his large fingers.
“Stetson.”
He listened intently for a minute, gave a curt “Thanks,” and put the phone away.
“What was that?”
Dan sighed. “I’m telling you this because Ashley’s death occurred on your property, understand? It is not for public consumption, which includes Leif, and most important Lavender. No one is to know what I’m about to tell you. Understood?”
Annie nodded meekly. Dan had been a lot more circumspect about sharing information about ongoing cases with her since the last homicide. She was grateful to get any tidbit at all.
“The autopsy results are in on Eloise Carr. Coroner suspects a drug overdose. He’s sending off for a tox report now.”
“So . . . suicide or homicide?”
“We don’t know yet. But it’s looking more like the latter, based on what we found today. That’s why I need you to tell me everything you remember when you walked into the barn this morning.”
Annie looked directly at Dan. She took a deep breath.
“I needed to stock more hay in the tack room. The barn doors weren’t locked; they never are.”
“They were when we got here.”
“That was to make sure no one went in without me knowing it. Normally, they’re always unlocked. When I need hay when it’s dark out, I don’t want to fiddle with any locks. Besides, no one steals hay.”
“You’d be surprised. But go on.”
“I had a dolly with me for transport, but I put it to one side so I could use both hands to open the doors. Then I flipped on the light switch on the left. I immediately saw Ashley’s body. It was absolutely still. She was just hanging there. There was no question that she was dead, probably for quite a few hours, so I didn’t bother checking for a pulse.”
Which was the last thing I wanted to do, anyway, she thought.
“I won’t deny that I was upset, but I knew you’d be asking me questions later, so I tried to take in the scene as best as I could before calling 911. I didn’t touch anything—honest—beyond the barn door handles and a hay bale I sat on for about ten seconds. Besides, I had gloves on the whole time I was in the barn.”
Dan slowly nodded.
“I looked for a suicide note, or anything she might have left behind. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that’s what’s bothering me now. I’ve just assumed that Ashley committed suicide. But, Dan, now it just doesn’t make sense. Sure, her feet were just three feet off the ground, but no one can jump three feet in the air, grab a noose, and put it around their neck. Can they? I mean, wouldn’t you expect to find a bale of hay nearby, or something that she would have used to get her neck into the noose?”
“You nailed it, Annie.” Dan’s voice was grim. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t moved anything that would have fit the other scenario. Tony’s tried to do exactly what you’ve described—he can’t do it, and he’s one of our fittest officers. The absence of a stool, plus scratch marks on both her hands and neck, make it pretty clear that Ashley Lawton was murdered. And fighting for her life to the bitter end.”