The Widow's Revenge (Charlie Moon Mysteries) by James D. Doss

The Widow's Revenge (Charlie Moon Mysteries) by James D. Doss

Author:James D. Doss
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780312364618
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2009-10-27T05:00:00+00:00


WHEN SHE saw the caller ID, Special Agent McTeague answered immediately. “What’s up, Charlie?”

“I’d rather not say on an open line.”

“Bad news?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Tell me where and when and what to bring.”

“The widow’s farm. Try to get here before dark. You’ll need a full forensics team. AC generators. Lights. A tent. The works.”

“Got it.”

A HALF hour before the sun set, the first of two Bureau helicopters settled onto the Blue Diamond Natural Gas Company’s property to deliver Special Agent McTeague. Charlie Moon told his ex-girlfriend everything he knew about Daisy and Sidewinder’s fortuitous discovery of the corpse. Which wasn’t the whole story, of course. Which was just as well.

Grateful for his decision to limit knowledge of this big break in the Cannibal Family case, Lila Mae agreed to treat the connection to Daisy Perika, Sarah Frank, and Charlie Moon as Bureau Confidential. Even as she made this promise, McTeague advised the tribal investigator that the FBI would make the discovery of the corpse public. A news conference would probably be scheduled for tomorrow morning. Moon was about to suggest that the feds might want to consider holding off for at least a few days, but his words were drowned out by the whump-whump of Chopper Number Two, which disgorged the regional FBI forensics team. With barely a glance at McTeague and Moon, they set up their equipment and got down to business right on the spot.

Charlie Moon stayed to watch.

A shiny black polyethylene tent was assembled over the makeshift grave. Inside, an array of battery-operated floodlights and two high-resolution digital cameras were placed on tripods. The team began by vacuuming sand and grit away from the blackened feet. They proceeded with pointed little trowels, toothbrushes, and dental picks. It would take virtually all night for the dedicated, hardworking specialists to expose the remains.

About an hour before sunrise, the inverted corpse of a middle-aged male was removed from the burial site. Preliminary imprints and photographs of incisors, cuspids, and bicuspids were uplinked to a communications satellite and forwarded to D.C., where specialists were waiting to compare the corpse’s teeth to prison dental records of Loyola Montoya’s grandson.

The remains were positively ID’d as one Wallace M. Montoya.

Score one for the tribal elder.

There was more.

Though not yet ready to sign her name on the dotted line, the FBI forensics-team leader (who had earned her MD and PhD at Johns Hopkins) stated her professional opinion that Mr. Montoya had expired after suffering numerous superficial bruises and lacerations. All this, in addition to the item placed so cruelly around his neck.

The barbed wire.

Score two for the tribal elder. Which is somewhat generous, because, as it happened, strangulation was not the cause of death. While still alive and wearing the barbed-wire necklace, Mr. Montoya had been, in technical parlance, “. . . exposed to excessive temperatures.” The unfortunate fellow had been—slowly and with considerable skill—roasted.

Score three for Miss Daisy.

Charlie Moon shook his head and wondered, How could Aunt Daisy have known so much about this nasty business? Not that he would ask her.



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