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“That would be a waste,” Ranger said. “Technically, Plover hasn’t committed a crime. He hasn’t given his insurers a dollar value on his stolen merchandise, and none of his customers have come forward with a complaint for past purchases.”
“I know a number of people who’ve bought jewelry from Plover. I could stir the pot a little.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to put some added pressure on him.”
“He inherited the store from his father and his grandfather. Every girl in my high school wanted a Plover engagement ring. People trusted Plover. How could this happen?”
Ranger shrugged. “People make bad decisions. And people aren’t always what they seem. Maybe Plover needed money, and he cheated a little, and then he got swept up in it. And now it’s spiraled out of control. It appears that he firebombed a car and he shot and killed an unarmed man, so either he’s a hardened career criminal or else he’s desperate and willing to do anything to cover his tracks. My guess is that he’s desperate.”
I selected a strawberry from the fruit plate. “The homicide is a biggie, but we only have the word of Nutsy and a homeless guy living in a crack house.”
My phone buzzed. It was Diggery.
“I hope I’m not calling too early,” he said, “but Snacker and me thought of another shallow grave we knew about. We’ve got it dug up if you want to come take a look. The person in question is about the right size and he’s got a knife and a fork. We couldn’t find a spoon.”
I cut my eyes to Ranger and found him smiling.
“Sure,” I said to Diggery. “Where are you?”
“Snacker and me are in a patch of woods off Whitle Road. You’ll see my truck at the roadside and then you have to follow the path. The grave isn’t that far along. When you’re in a hurry to bury someone, you don’t want to carry the body any farther than necessary.”
“Where’s Whitle Road?”
“It’s right next to Greenhill Cemetery. There’s a number of shallow graves here, mostly for people who couldn’t afford thecemetery. Not especially good for my line of work, but once in a while you get lucky, and it’s a lot easier digging than in a legitimate burial ground.”
“I’m about forty minutes away.”
I put my phone down and stood. “Are you riding with me?” I asked Ranger.
“Wouldn’t want to miss this one. I haven’t seen a decayed body all week.”
I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and hooked Bob onto his leash, and we all went downstairs. Greenhill Cemetery was north of the city between Trenton-Mercer Airport and Washington Crossing State Park. It seemed like a long drive to make with a bleeding body in your trunk, but it was an impulsive shooting, and Plover probably didn’t have time to do a lot of research on shallow grave sites. Or hell, what do I know. Maybe he dumped all his dead bodies there. The woods on Whitle Road could have been filled with his disgruntled customers.
Ranger had no problem finding Whitle Road. It was a service road in a forested greenbelt that ran alongside the cemetery. No houses or businesses, just offshoots into the cemetery. We saw Diggery’s truck after a half mile.
Ranger parked and we followed a path of tramped-down grass and shrubs that I suspected was only used by clandestine burial parties and grave robbers. Bob gave a single bark when he saw Diggery.
“Howdy,” Diggery said. “I see Bob remembers me. I have a natural way with animals.”
I thought it might have something to do with the way he smelled, but I kept that to myself.
“This here’s the grave,” Diggery said. “Do you think this could be your man? As you can see there’s cutlery sticking out of his pocket. He might have had a cross necklace too, but it isn’t here now. There were signs that the deceased had been previously disturbed.”
“He looks short,” I said.
“I told you he was short,” Snacker said to Diggery.
“Sometimes it’s the way they go into the ground,” Diggery said. “Things get smushed together. Are you sure he’s not the one?”
“His hands are intact, and I don’t see a spider tattoo,” I said.
“I guess that could be a game changer,” Diggery said. “We had some time while we were waiting for you, so we dug up another body. We’ve gone high-tech. We’re using a metal detector, and we got a hit farther down the path.”
Oh boy.
Ranger, Bob, and I followed Diggery to the second grave.
“This looks like a woman,” I said, staring into the pit.
