Knorath, Joe - Jack Daniels 03 - Rusty Nail by Konrath Page B

to that, an open pantry, the shelf inside loaded with mason jars.
    The law was clear when it came to search and seizure. A cop can only search if given permission, or with a warrant. Kork inviting us into his house wasn’t the same as permission to search, but if while in the house we saw evidence of anything illegal or suspicious, the evidence was admissible in court.
    The mason jars lining the shelf looked to be the same type as the jar full of toes. I sidestepped Kork and peered into the cabinet.
    “Mr. Kork, what’s this?”
    I pointed to a jar full of small round things. Some were tan. Some pink. Some green.
    He grunted. “Used gum. Help yourself if you want some, but I chewed all the flavor out.”
    “This jar is similar to another jar we found, full of human toes. Do you know anything about that?”
    Another faraway looked crossed Kork’s face.
    “Mr. Kork? Did you hear me?”
    “Niblets,” he breathed.
    “Speak up, Mr. Kork.”
    “Sweet.”
    “What’s sweet?”
    His focus came back, and he looked at me, a thin line of drool sliding down the corner of his mouth.
    “The toes of babes. Sweet, like corn Niblets.”
    Alarms went off in my head. I noticed Herb’s hand had returned to the butt of his gun.
    “Did you own a jar of human toes, Mr. Kork? Some of them from children?”
    “ ‘And they were bringing children to him, that he might touch them.’ Mark 10:13.”
    “Mr. Kork, may we search your premises?”
    “Two Peter 2:14. ‘They have eyes full of adultery, insatiable for sin. They entice unsteady souls. They have hearts trained in greed. Accursed children!’ ”
    Herb came up to Bud, put a hand on his shoulder.
    “Mr. Kork, do we have your permission to search your house?”
    Bud blinked, then looked at Herb.
    “What did you say?”
    “Your house, Mr. Kork. We’d like to search it.”
    He grunted, nodding. “Go ahead. Help yourself.”
    I began sorting through the cabinets. Herb tried the drawers.
    “You might want to start in the root cellar.”
    I stopped, stared at the old man. “What’s in the cellar, Mr. Kork?”
    Bud Kork peered down at his bare feet, then put the rosary against his lips.
    “That’s where I buried the bodies.”

 

    CHAPTER 21

    B UD KORK LED us out of the kitchen. He had a slow, bow-legged gait that seemed to cause him pain with every step. He took us past several cluttered, dirty rooms and through a closed door at the end of the hall.
    A soiled bare mattress sat on the floor, pointy springs jutting out through the fabric. As in the first room, the walls were bare, save for a giant black crucifix hanging crookedly over the bed.
    “This is the devil’s room. Unclean.”
    Kork pointed to the closet, open to reveal a dozen empty wire hangers hanging from a rope nailed lengthwise inside.
    “Under the board.”
    The bottom of the closet had a four-by-four piece of plywood on its floor, three pairs of worn shoes on top. Herb kept watch on Bud, and I knelt by the board and lifted the corner, dragging back the wood to reveal a squarish hole.
    The smell rose up like a ghost, catching in my throat and forcing me to gag.
    I covered my mouth and nose. “Something dead.”
    Herb’s nostrils curled back. “Many somethings. Call the GPD?”
    I glanced at Kork, who was gnawing on a dirty fingernail. I could smell the schizo on him like I could smell his stale sweat. He was completely unreliable. Maybe there were indeed corpses under the house. Or maybe there were dead dogs, or a pig, or he simply used this hole to dump leftover cooking grease.
    “We need to confirm first. Got a flashlight in the car?”
    Herb told me no.
    “I have a lantern,” Kork said. “In my room.”
    I nodded at Benedict, and he whisked Kork away to locate the lantern. Holding my nose, I took another look into the hole.
    It seemed to be very deep. Ancient wood was laid into the dirt floor, making a kind of staircase that led down into blackness. The smell was so bad it penetrated my tongue.