False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [21]
He slowed and pulled up behind Stone Castille’s squad car. He got out and stretched his lower back. The dawn air was warm and heavy and smelled like wet earth.
Half a minute later Aimee and Gil pulled in behind him, and the three of them trudged through the weeds toward the house.
Stone waved and met them half way. “That was quick. This way. Get ready for a jolt. You’re not going to believe who it is.”
Jude followed Stone through the high weeds toward a row of massive trees on the edge of the sugarcane fields. There it was.
Jude stopped, sickened at the sight of a Caucasian male, noose around his neck, hanging from a live oak. And even sicker when he recognized the man’s face—and the red ball cap on the ground. “Aw, Remy. Why? Why’d you do it?”
“Sheriff, this wasn’t suicide,” Stone said. “I believe he may have been lynched. Someone left a note under my wiper blade when I was in Crawfish Corner, having a cup of coffee. The exact words were, ‘A white man is hanging from a tree at the old Vincent farm. How does it feel?’ The word white was underlined.”
“How long ago was that?” Jude said.
“Less than thirty minutes. When I found the note, I drove out here to look around. I didn’t bother calling for backup. I figured it was another hoax.”
“Where’s the note?” Jude said.
“I bagged it and put it into evidence. It’s just a sheet of white paper with the message in bold type printed off a computer. I’m hoping we’ll get fingerprints off it.”
Jude took out his handkerchief and wiped the perspiration off the back of his neck. “Why would anyone want to hurt Remy Jarvis?”
“Remy was an easy target. They probably grabbed him while he was out delivering newspapers. I found at least three sets of shoe prints. Come take a look.”
Jude followed Stone to where the body dangled and saw overlapping shoe prints in the mud beneath.
“Make casts,” Jude said. “That’ll give us something to go on. People will be screaming for justice when they find out a white man was lynched.”
“Especially someone as gentle and trusting as Remy,” Aimee said. “So much for racial harmony.”
Jude folded his arms across his chest. “There’s no proof that whoever did this is African-American. Anyone could’ve written that note.”
“That’s true,” Stone said. “But we can’t afford to blow off the Langley boy’s allegation that he saw a black man in the manor house. That’s less than two hundred yards from here.”
“But you didn’t find any evidence of forced entry—or any entry.”
“Maybe we should take a closer look,” Aimee said.
“Maybe we will. But for now let’s keep the note confidential. Let’s just call this in and investigate it by the book. When the media finds out, our investigation will be under a microscope. The whole country will be watching. Let’s make sure we don’t miss a step.”
Zoe sat in her office and downed a cup of lukewarm coffee she didn’t remember pouring. It wasn’t even noon, and she’d already talked herself out of doing anything about the notes. Why act in haste and admit to something that would have life-changing consequences?
She needed to wait. To see if things escalated. Wasn’t it possible someone was playing a joke on her? Was that any more far-fetched than the notion that someone had figured out what she’d done?
There was a knock on the door, and then a muffled female voice.
“Zoe, it’s Vanessa. Can I talk to you?”
“Hang on. I’m coming.”
Zoe walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, then unlocked the dead bolt.
“Sorry. We keep this door locked for security reasons. Few people even know this is the office. Come in.”
“I can’t.” Vanessa glanced up the stairs. “Carter’s watching cartoons. I need to be within earshot. I just wanted to know if you heard about the lynching.”
“Pierce mentioned something about a murder, but I was a little preoccupied at the time. What happened?”
“Early this morning a man was found hanging from a live oak on the property