“Not really. As you know, they filed an anonymous LLC in Virginia.”

  Anna Mae cut in. “Yes, I know that. But Tennessee requires all owners, or members, of an LLC to be listed in the registration.”

  “Ah. There’s the rub. Virginia doesn’t require ownership to be listed.”

  “But you’d need a registered agent—someone with a physical address in the state of Virginia.”

  “Yes, you would,” Jack agreed.

  “Oh. So let me guess. Louis P. owns property in Virginia.”

  “Bingo. And so the only name listed is Louis P’s as both the organizer and the registered agent.”

  “But to do business in Tennessee, they’d have to file in Tennessee also. I believe it’s called a foreign LLC. They’d eventually have to list the ownership.”

  “But buying the land blind bought them time. They would have to register with the state of Tennessee before they began construction. But construction hasn’t started yet. And anyone can buy land. Maybe Virgil wanted to get past Election Day before he went public with his plans.”

  Anna Mae was quiet for a moment. “All right. I’ll contact Louis and get back to you.”

  “Don’t take no for an answer.”

  After Jack hung up, Anna Mae did some research on P & G Land Development, LLC. She trusted and respected Jack, but she wanted to verify his information. Sure enough, Louis P. Howe, the attorney at the closing, was the only name listed. Could it be that he’s the owner and not just the lawyer representing the company? Is that why he wouldn’t help Jack? Her elbow was propped on the chair’s armrest, and she tapped her index finger against her lip as she sat and thought. That must be it. Had Louis ever come out and said there were other owners? Or had he just implied that Virgil was involved? Had he just never corrected Jack’s assumptions?

  She’d always known Louis P. to be the poster boy for bad lawyers, but would he be such a liar that he could pull off something like this? Anna Mae grabbed her jacket and her purse and headed for her car. This called for an in-person meeting even if it was a two-hour drive one way.

  She had called Jack on her drive over, and he was waiting for her in the outer office. They were shown right in.

  “Jack, Anna Mae, what’s the meaning of this? Barging into my office and all . . .”

  Anna Mae wasted no time. She dropped her purse in a chair and faced Louis with her hands on her hips. “Louis P, the jig is up.”

  He stared at her blankly. His eyes went to Jack. “What’s she babbling about, Jack?”

  Jack hitched his head toward his lawyer. “She can speak.”

  Anna Mae stepped closer to the desk. She put her hands on the desk and leaned toward Louis P. “Who is the real owner of P&G Land Development, LLC?”

  “Well . . . Well . . . I’m not sure I can divulge that information,” he sputtered, rolling his chair backward to get away from her.

  “Can’t or won’t? See, here’s what I think: I think you’re the sole owner. I think you let the assumptions about Virgil stand even though they weren’t true. I think you didn’t want to represent Jack in a lawsuit because you wanted to develop the land yourself. You’d have been suing yourself. Naming it P&G, intimating it stood for Pepper and Goodwin, was a nice touch, I’ll give you that.”

  Jack broke in. “It’s either that or Virgil was involved, and you’re keeping it a secret for some unknown reason. Or is it Buford Goodwin who’s involved? It would be awful easy for the zoning commissioner to manipulate events and have the land condemned.”

  “All those suppositions are preposterous and without merit. I can’t give you the name of the owner because it’s attorney-client privilege. I’d need their permission before I divulge their identity.” He was careful to use a gender-neutral pronoun.

  “Get it,” Anna Mae snapped. “We’ll wait. And while you’re at it, tell him Jack wants to buy back the land. If that happens, he won’t bring a lawsuit of fraud.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jack said, louder than he’d intended. “If you have to call someone, then there’s at least one other person involved and not just Virgil.”

  Anna Mae snickered. “Or Louis is covering his butt and going to pretend to make a call.”

  Louis P. glowered at them and left the room to make the call.

  When the door had closed, Jack turned to Anna Mae and said, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “What are you talking about, Jack?”

  “It was no coincidence that the poisonings occurred just when someone wanted my land. I don’t believe in coincidences, because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, they take a heap of planning.”

  “Go on.”

  “Whoever owns this land—whether it’s Louis P. or Buford Goodwin or the late Virgil Pepper—chances are they’re behind all those deaths by methanol poisoning. They got me to sell by threatening the safety of my dog. There’s no doubt in my mind they did all this just so they could buy the land for cheap.”

  Louis P. returned with a scowl on his face. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. All I can say is that I do not own the land. My name was put on the company papers for legal purposes. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” He stood at the door, holding it open as a silent invitation for them to leave.

  Louis gave Jack a guilty look and then added, “And they’re not interested in selling. Sorry. I did ask.”

  Anna Mae stood. “Then get ready for a visit from Chief Butterfield. He’s our next stop.” Jack grabbed the doorknob on the outside of the door and slammed it as they stormed out of Louis P’s office.

  At the police station, it was Jack’s turn to stand before a desk with his hands on his hips. “Johnny, I think it was Buford. Or Louis. But my money’s on Buford.” They filled in the chief on their research and their suspicions.

  Johnny sank back into his chair and swiveled it as he looked into thin air. “That would explain a lot. Suppose Louis used Buford to threaten commissioners for a yes vote and encouraged him to imply Virgil was behind it.”

  Jack picked up the train of thought. “Maybe Virgil was involved. Maybe he and Louis P. had an argument over the LLC ownership. Maybe one of them got greedy. Hell, for that matter, maybe Buford got greedy and wanted in on the action. He could have threatened to blow the whistle on their little scheme.”

  “Or maybe Virgil got greedy and threatened Buford. Virgil seems like the alpha dog over Buford.”

  Anna Mae blinked, showing her confusion. “So who killed Virgil?”

  Johnny stood and went to the dry-erase board. He pointed to each name as he read them out loud. “Coulda been Victor. But I don’t think so. That’s far-fetched.”

  “Wait,” Anna Mae broke in. “Who’s Victor?”

  “He was involved with the girl who fell sick in Helechawa. And he’s a self-professed cereal killer.”

  Jack shot him an evil eye. “So you think he killed everybody but the girlfriend? I say his connection to the girl is just a coincidence.”

  “I do too.” He put a line through Victor’s name and continued to the next name.

  “Coulda been Mary Alice, the ex-girlfriend. Lord knows she had enough reason to want Virgil dead. She was even overheard saying she’d kill him.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know, Johnny. A woman scorned and all that, but . . . ”

  Johnny continued. “Coulda been Bunhead Shaw was the mastermind behind it all. Hank said he’s a simple-minded good old country boy. Maybe he just plays dumb. Maybe he got in over his head with the Goose Juice.”

  Jack cackled. “Johnny, if that man isn’t a sandwich shy of a picnic, then he ought to relocate to Hollywood.”

  They enjoyed a chuckle at Bunhead’s expense before Johnny moved to the next name on the list of possible suspects.

  “Coulda been Mayor Buck feeling threatened over the looming election.”

  Jack shook his head. “He’s not a killer. He’s too soft.”

  “Coulda been Louis P–”

  Jack jumped in. “His name’s on the articles of incorporation for the company that bought my land. Maybe he was more than just the frontman and lawyer in the deal.”

  “Coulda been Buford. Hell, it coulda been the two of them together.”

  Anna Mae stated the obvious. “Maybe you’re right. But one thing’s for sure: with Virgil gone, the mystery owner of the LLC has free rein and sole ownership of the land deal. He stands to make a lot of money if that hotel is built. That’s a heck of a motive if you ask me.”

  Jack said, “And I’m bound and determined to find out who that mystery owner is. If it was Virgil, then I want my land back. If it wasn’t Virgil, I still want my land back, but it’s gonna give us a man with a motive.”

  Anna Mae asked, “Johnny, do you think the methanol poisonings and Virgil’s murder are related?”

  “I can’t say for sure until we hear back from the coroner. We should know more any time now.”

  Twenty-five

  I am convinced the hardest language for some to speak is the truth.

  –Anonymous

  Tuesday, four days after Dead Virgil

  “Chief, Coroner Corn is on the line for you.”

  Johnny chuckled before picking up the phone. Bernadette’s accent always made him smile when she said “Corner Corn.”

  “Good morning, Chief. I’ve completed the autopsy and scanned Jeb Hefflefinger’s notes from the scene. Could you come to my office so I can report my findings?”

  “I can, Addy. But what exactly did you find? Was it a clear case of a blow to the head that killed him? Can’t you give me any information over the phone?”

  “I’d rather wait to see you in person if you don’t mind, Chief.”

  Johnny scrunched up his face in frustration. “I’m on my way.”

  On his way through the front room, Johnny tossed out an instruction to Bernadette. “Contact Hank and Velveeta. Tell them to meet me at the coroner’s office right away.”

  He was halfway through the door when he heard her mumble, “The man’s already dead. Don’t see what the galldern hurry is for.”

  Johnny realized he had hurt her feelings in his rush to talk to the coroner, so he stopped and turned around. “You look real pretty today, Bernadette.”

  Bernadette beamed and patted her Aqua Net-stiffened hair. “Why thank you, Chief. I sure appreciate that.”

  Johnny left the building good-naturedly mimicking Bernadette’s accent. “Preshade. I sure preshade that. Is there any wonder why Southern women are so special?”

  Johnny was seated in front of the coroner’s desk when Hank and Velveeta joined them.

  Velveeta was her usual blunt self. “What’d we miss?”

  “Not much. Addy was just educating me on the wonders of the brain.”

  The coroner held a skull in her hands. “As I told the chief, the brain is well protected inside the skull . . .” Johnny zoned out while the coroner droned on about the brain.

  “Chief? You with me?”

  Johnny came back to the conversation, and the coroner continued. “But this cushion isn’t enough to protect the brain from a blow, which is why wearing a helmet is so important these days. But see, the way the anatomic protection of the brain . . .”

  Johnny once again tuned out the medical explanation, thinking about the probability of the five murders and Virgil’s murder being connected. He shook off the thought and concentrated on Coroner Corn’s words.

  “ . . . and there's something else there: the medulla oblongata.” She looked from the skull to Johnny with a serene smile on her face. “Isn’t that a great word? The medulla oblongata. I just love it.”

  Velveeta cleared her throat. “Sure. I’ll name a cat after it.”

  Hank cut her off. “Okay, so if I’m following you right, the brain gets hit and swells, and the only way for it to go anywhere is to go through the watchacallit.”

  “That’s correct, Officer Beanblossom. See, the medulla contains all sorts of important stuff, including the breathing center. You can’t squeeze the entire brain out the foramen magnum, because if that happens, you will die.”

  “We’re with you so far,” Johnny motioned with his hand to get on with it.

  “Now, the skull is pretty tough, but it does have its weak points. One is whatchacall the ‘pterion,’ which is commonly called the ‘temple.’” She motioned to the temple on the skull and started on another lecture.

  Johnny, Velveeta, and Hank hovered over the desk, trying to take in what they were being told.

  “So what you’re saying is that he was killed by a blow to the head.”

  “Yes, but . . . ” She turned the skull and pointed to the top of it. “He was hit here,” her finger moved to the temple, “and he was hit here. This one is the more severe injury,” her finger indicated the temple, “and it’s the one that killed him. Probably not right away. But he laid there long enough for the pressure to be too much for the brain to withstand.”

  “Would he have been conscious?”

  “Most likely not.”

  The three stood straight, looking at each other. Johnny spoke first.

  “Caledonia said she hit him like this.” He mimicked a tennis racket in his hand, and his arm came up over Hank’s head. “She didn’t say anything about hitting him twice. She said he dropped the minute she hit him.”

  Velveeta shook her head. “Still, we need to talk to Caledonia again.”

  “Agreed.” He gestured with his thumb. “Go get the dummy out of the evidence room and meet me at the tennis courts, Officer. I’ll go pick up Caledonia.” He pointed to Hank. “Officer, you go get Mary Alice. She said she saw Caledonia hit Virgil, so she can corroborate her story.”

  Johnny turned to the coroner. “You’ve ruled out conclusively that he wasn’t poisoned?”

  “Well, not yet. The bloodwork hasn’t come back yet. But I’m ninety-eight percent sure it was the blow to the head that did it.”

  “Anything else, doc?

  “That about covers it. I’ll let you know when the bloodwork comes back.”

  Johnny nodded and stuck out his hand. “Preshade it, Corner Corn.”

  As the three walked down the hall, Velveeta said, “What’s that smirk on your face about, Chief?”

  “I find in this line of work it helps to have a sense of humor and to watch for the light moments when you can. I was poking a little fun in there on account of Bernadette’s accent. You gotta admit, Corner Corn makes you smile, doesn’t it?”

  Hank was already smiling. “I reckon.”

  “Let’s not waste any time, Officers. It’s gonna get dark before long. Y’all have your assignments. I’ll see you directly.”

  Caledonia was alone in the dress shop, reading a book, when Johnny walked in. “Chief, is anything wrong?”

  “No, Caledonia, in fact I think things are starting to be right. But I need your help. Can you come with me?”

  “Come with you where?” She laid the book on the counter.

  “To the tennis court. We need to reenact the blow to the head that you gave to Virgil.”

  She swallowed hard. “Do I need an attorney?”

  He reached out and squeezed her arm. “No. I’m trying to rule you out, not convict you. Mary Alice is gonna meet us there too.”

  “Scary Mary? Why is she gonna be there? Did she kill Virgil?”

  “No. But she can corroborate your story.”

  “Okay.” She appeared confused but grabbed her keys, purse, and jacket. “Let’s go.” She turned the sign on the door to CLOSED on her way out.

  Hank, Mary Alice, Velveeta, and Larry the dummy were waiting for them when Johnny and Caledonia got there.

  “Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming, Mary Alice.”

  “Glad to be of help if I can, Chief.”

  Johnny gestured to Velveeta and the dummy. “Velveeta and Larry are going to stand here where we found the body. Which means he must have come up behind you, right about here?”

  Caledonia walked to the spot where she remembered standing right before hitting Virgil. A flash of the moment when the tennis racket connected with his head replayed in her head, and the awful sound accompanied the vision. She shook it off. “I was right about here.”

  Velveeta held up Larry to Virgil’s height of five foot eight and moved toward Caledonia. Velveeta towered over him at five foot ten. She held him at arm’s length so she wouldn’t get inadvertently conked during the reenactment.

  Johnny went up to Caledonia. “Now you said your back was to him. Is that right?”

  “Yes. I was here, getting ready to put away my racket.”

  “How far away was he when you dropped him?”

  “Chief!” Caledonia was incredulous. “I told you it was an accident.”

  “You said he dropped like a dead fly, right?”

  Mary Alice nodded vigorously. “He did, too, Chief. I saw it.”

  “Mary Alice, I preshade your help, but maybe you should stand over there with your back to us. I want you remembering what you saw that night and not what you see and hear now.”

  Johnny watched Hank escort Mary Alice across the tennis court and turned back to Caledonia. “So how far away was he?”

  “Well, I don’t know; my back was to him. But he was close enough to reach out and touch my arm.

  “Velveeta,” Johnny crooked his finger, and she came closer.

  Hank rejoined the group and took Larry’s arm, moving it so the hand touched Caledonia’s right arm.

  She pointed to her left elbow. “No, it was this arm. My elbow, right here.” Hank moved Larry accordingly.

  “So he reached out for your arm, and then what?”

  “And then I whirled around like this,” she pivoted, as the racket came up over her head. “And I hit him on the head like this.” She mimicked her actions in slow motion so nobody would get hit.

  “Okay, now that’s a little weird. Because we found his body over here.” Johnny pointed to the little crime scene markers that were still on the ground. “He couldn’t have dropped like a fly but landed all the way over here.”

  Caledonia shrugged and pointed at the ground. “When I left him, he was right there.” She took Larry and laid him out on the court like she remembered seeing Virgil right before she walked away.