“Not ruling out the possibility,” the sheriff responded. “Could have been a hunter with terrible aim. Early-morning light makes it hard to see and your property is right up against the woods. Lots of hunters this time of year.”
J.J. shrugged. “Whatever you need from us.”
“Mind if I set up at a table somewhere?” Sheriff Terry asked.
“No problem.” Gwen was back with tea for Marta. “Come with me.” She took him through to the dining room.
The oak table, where just last evening everyone had been eating and joking, seemed alien now. While I didn’t like the idea of Colette being shot by an inept deer hunter, I liked even less the idea that there might be someone who harbored the intent to kill her.
That would take quite a bit of skill, though, wouldn’t it? I wasn’t sure I could hit the target on the archery range, let alone a moving target.
The sheriff stepped back into the room. “I’ve finished setting up and am almost ready to talk with everyone. If you could just bear with me for a few more minutes.” He crooked a finger in my direction. “Sugar, come with me.”
I stood and stepped toward him, still holding Frenchie, who’d decided I was a permanent sleeping spot.
“Leave the dog with Dixie, Sugar.”
If anyone in the family was surprised we were on a first-name basis with the Jameson County sheriff, they didn’t show it. I handed Frenchie off to Dixie and followed Sheriff Terry. He went through the kitchen and out the back of the house.
“I’d like you to walk me through finding the victim.” He nodded toward the archery range. “What were you doing wandering around so early?”
“I’ve been trying to exercise more.” I pointed at the step-tracker on my arm. “I’d gotten up early and thought I’d get a walk in before everyone was up and about.”
“You and Dixie are doing a cookbook for the Arbor family.” We trudged across the grassy area, now dry, toward where I’d found Colette.
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded. “They asked us to come for the weekend get-together so that we’d have a chance to meet everyone and maybe collect some stories to add to the cookbook. I think the family members are staying all week.”
It was one of the things I loved about the community cookbooks we published. While the main part of the book was the recipes, there was usually an opportunity to sprinkle in some background and include some things that would personalize the cookbook. That was true whether it was for a town, a group, or in this case a family.
In the community cookbook biz, the story was the project. And in this case the story was not just about the memories of good food growing up: Food was the family’s business.
“What?” I suddenly realized that the sheriff had been asking me something while I’d been letting my mind wander. Trying not to think about beautiful Colette and how awful she’d looked when I found her.
“What caused you to notice the victim?”
“I didn’t at first.” I cringed at the memory. “I tripped over her.”
I explained to Sheriff Terry about noticing Frenchie, trying to chase the dog down, and then finally tripping over Colette and landing beside her.
“I grabbed the dog and ran for the house.”
“You then told the family members and they came to check it out.” He continued walking, hands in his pockets. “They were all up and dressed for the day, then?”
I nodded. I couldn’t remember exactly what everyone was wearing, but I thought they’d all been dressed.
“They were in the downstairs sunroom.” I pointed back at the house. “It felt a bit like I’d interrupted a family meeting. None of the spouses. Just J.J., Jezzie, and Jonathan.”
“J.J. said they were discussing their mother’s health and the fact she’s still living on her own,” he said, and slowed as we approached the now-cordoned-off area where I’d found Colette.
“She does seem frail,” I noted. “Though it seems like she’s got all her faculties.” I thought about her comments this morning. If she had an inkling they were having that discussion without her, that could account for her sharpness with Jezzie.
We stopped before we got to the area that was now protected with stakes in the ground and crime scene tape strung from one to the next. Colette’s body was thankfully covered with a blanket.
“Do you think it could be hunters?” I looked up at Sheriff Terry.
“It’s possible,” he answered, his gaze shifting to the surrounding woods. “But if so, we still could be talking involuntary manslaughter. No one should be hunting in this area. The area to the west is part of a nature preserve and the north part belongs to a neighboring farmer.”
I’m not good with directions, so the west-north distinction was lost on me, but what I did understand was that there should not have been hunters in the area.
“Sheriff?” A deputy was headed toward us. “It looks like the shed where they keep all the archery equipment has been broken into.”
Sheriff Terry started to walk away and then turned back to me. “You can go on back to the house.”
“You don’t need anything else from me?”
“I know where to find you.” He nodded in dismissal and then joined the deputy.
As I walked toward the majestic Victorian, I glanced at the time on my step-tracker. It was then I remembered seeing someone when I’d gone out to the car the night before. Or at least I’d thought I saw someone. I made a mental note to mention it to the sheriff the next time I saw him.
When I got back to the house, it seemed the subdued group from earlier had morphed into a flurry of activity while they waited.
Jezzie had apparently given everyone tasks. She had Dixie sorting recipe cards at the dining room table.
I joined her just in time to hear Jezzie say to Theo, “What do you mean, you don’t know how to contact her family?”
“They weren’t close,” Theo bit out. “I think they live in the Twin Cities, but I’m not sure.”
“The sheriff is going to need that information.”
“I know.” Theo walked out.
I thought she could have been a little more sensitive in her approach. Her son had just lost his fiancée, after all.
Sidling up beside Dixie, I looked at the piles of handwritten cards she’d placed on the tabletop. “What can I do?”
“I could use a glass of water and a marker.” She looked up. “I’ve got the categories separated but I keep getting mixed up about which pile is which.
“Be right back.” I approached Jezzie and asked about markers.
“In the desk drawer in the kitchen.” She pointed in that direction.
When I entered the kitchen, at first, I didn’t notice Theo standing by the counter. He seemed lost in thought and didn’t act like he’d heard me enter. Not wanting to startle him, I cleared my throat to let him know I was there. He still didn’t move.
“Hello,” I said, walking nearer in hopes he’d see me.
“Oh.” He straightened and shook his head as if clearing it. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
“I’m looking for a glass.”
He pointed at a cupboard.
I opened it and took down a glass and paused. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He wiped his face with his hands. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Had you been engaged long?”
“Just this week.” He took a deep breath and looked up. “I did the whole big pop-the-question very publicly.”
“Billboard? Skywriter?” I asked.
“Not quite that publicly.” He smiled for the first time. “I planned a romantic dinner at one of her favorite restaurants with the engagement ring in a fancy box anchored by a red rose.”
Ah, I would have guessed him a romantic.
I walked to t
he sink and filled the glass. “How did you two meet?”
“At a charity event.” Theo’s shoulders drooped. “We both came with other people. I suck at those types of functions and was counting the minutes until I could leave. Colette introduced herself to me, and we hit it off right away.”
“I’ll bet she was comfortable at the event.” I set the glass down and leaned on the counter.
“Why do you say that?” He turned his head to look at me.
Oops. I hadn’t meant to offend.
“Just that she seemed to be very outgoing.”
“Yes, very outgoing.” He choked up.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s better to talk about her.” He blew out a breath. “My family members apparently are going to simply pretend she never existed.”
A wave of sadness washed over me for Theo, so alone in his grief.
“Is her family in Chicago also?”
“No. Well, I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his dark hair and paused. “I really don’t know.”
I waited, not wanting to press, but thinking about what I’d overheard earlier between him and Jezzie.
“She was estranged from her family,” Theo continued. “They hadn’t spoken in years. She didn’t say what happened, but it must have been big.”
“That’s too bad.” I picked up the water glass, opened the desk drawer, and located the markers. “I’m sure that Sheriff Griffin can help you with contacting them.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He frowned. “Though I’m not sure they will care. She made it sound like they hadn’t had contact for quite a while.”
“I hope that’s not the case.” I patted his arm. “Again, my condolences.”
Carrying the water and markers back to the dining room, I thought about what could have caused Colette to have been estranged from her family. In my experience, family riffs don’t have to be over big issues. Or at least they’re not always. Misunderstandings can begin over something small and grow into family members taking sides and not talking to each other.
That’s often the key, isn’t it? Communication, or rather lack of communication. When people stop talking to each other. At least that had been the case with my parents. The beginning of the end of their marriage wasn’t the fights, though as a kid I’d dreaded those. It was the silence between them. As an adult, I understood those dynamics better and realized it wasn’t that simple. But it kind of was. When we stop communicating in a relationship, we’ve given up.
I took the water to Dixie and handed her the markers. I wanted to tell her about my conversation with Theo, but with most everyone still in the room I couldn’t. I’d have to fill her in later.
While I’d been in the kitchen, Sheriff Terry had returned and begun his interviews with the family. It appeared that J.J. had been first on the list and now Jezzie was up.
I picked up one of the handwritten recipe cards. “These are priceless. Do you think they’d let us use some of them in photos for the cookbook?”
“I don’t know why not.” She added one to the desserts pile. “Most of them are amazingly legible.”
In just a matter of minutes, Jezzie was back and Jonathan was tagged for a chat with the sheriff. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told them it wouldn’t take long.
Dixie and I cycled through the remaining recipe cards and the sheriff cycled through the rest of the family members. Dixie was the last one called and I knew her statement would be brief.
She returned in just a few minutes, the sheriff following close behind.
Such a great couple: Sheriff Terry solid and steadfast and Dixie good-natured and caring. Though fiery at times. I still didn’t know the whole story, but had recently learned a little more. They’d been an item in high school and then due to some drama and misunderstanding they’d spilt. Dixie had married someone else. To all accounts a nice man who she’d lost a few years ago to a farm accident. Terry had moved away and only recently returned to the area. Years had passed and yet there were still remaining hurts from whatever had happened between them. They sorted it out enough so that recently they’d decided they could be friends. I thought it could be a lot more, and I wasn’t alone in rooting for romance. If they would just talk.
See what I mean? The key is communication.
Sheriff Terry thanked the family and again expressed condolences.
“I’ll be in touch with any new information from the forensics team.” He headed for the door and then turned back. “Dixie and Sugar, would you walk out with me?”
Chapter Three
We stepped out onto the porch and into a day that had gone from cool fall morning where you needed a jacket, to hot Indian summer where short sleeves and shorts would be more in order.
“Did either of you talk with the victim last night?” he asked.
“There wasn’t time,” I responded. “She and Theo arrived and there was the dog incident and then everyone scattered after that.”
“The dog incident?” The sheriff stopped walking.
I described what had happened with Colette and Frenchie.
“After that we all went to bed,” Dixie added.
“And you didn’t hear anything after that?”
“Well, Sugar went outside to look for her charger in the car.” Dixie pointed toward my Jeep.
“What time was that?” he asked.
“I think around ten-thirty or so.” I hadn’t checked the time to know for sure.
“Did you see anyone while you were out here?”
“I wanted to mention that to you—I did see someone. Or thought I did, anyway. There was someone near that east corner of the house.” I pointed at where I’d seen the shadowy figure.
“That’s north.” Dixie shook her head.
My sense of direction is sadly lacking and often finds me lost. I’m thankful to whoever it was that came up with GPS navigation. Otherwise I’d be lost even more often.
“Right.” I shrugged. “I couldn’t see very well, it was so dark, and they were gone very quickly.”
“Could it have been Colette?” the sheriff asked. “Maybe walking her dog?
“I suppose it could have been, but not walking her dog. When I got back to the house, I could hear Frenchie barking from somewhere inside.” I guess that didn’t necessarily mean that Colette was in the house as well, but it seemed like she and the dog had been inseparable.
“I’ll have the team take a look there.” He squinted into the sun. “How much longer are you here?”
“Just through the weekend,” Dixie answered.
We’d arrived at the Jameson County Sheriff’s Department vehicle.
“If you think of anything, let me know.” He opened his car door and climbed in. “You have my number.”
We turned and headed back to the house. Dixie’s face was already pink from our time standing out in the sun.
“You’re going to need some sunscreen, lady, if you’re going to spend any time out in this,” I noted.
She touched her pink cheeks. “The curse of being a redhead. I don’t think I packed any. Why do you think Terry thought we might have any information on Colette?”
“I think wishful thinking on his part. Theo was in the kitchen when I went to get the markers for you and I talked with him a little bit. He truly has no contact information for Colette’s family.”
“None?”
“He ‘thinks’ they might be from the Minneapolis–St. Paul area.”
“Wow.” Dixie stopped walking. “I can’t imagine agreeing to marry someone without meeting their family. Strange.”
“It is,” I agreed. “But then, not everyone stays close to home like you. Look at me. I’ve lived in several states.”
“But still, if you were to get serious about someone, you’d want them to meet your mot
her.”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t absolutely sure about that. Although, meeting Cate Sugarbaker might be the true test of a guy’s mettle.
“Do you think it could have been hunters?” I kind of wanted for it to be hunters. It would still be sad, but it would be accidental.
“It’s possible.” She shaded her eyes and looked at me thoughtfully.
“But not probable?”
Dixie shrugged. “There are a lot of requirements for bowhunting and some strict safety measures, but people can be stupid. There was a story in the news a while back about a guy that was killed when a boulder went through his windshield. He was on the interstate and some kids threw it off a bridge.”
“Wow, you never know how much time you’ve got.” I sighed. “You’re driving along, minding your own business and pow.”
We were quiet as we continued walking back to the house. What a strange turn the weekend had taken.
When we entered the house, it appeared everyone had scattered to their own pursuits. The intent of our staying the weekend had been so we could collect recipes and talk with the family about what they wanted in the Arbor family cookbook. With Colette’s death, they might not want to continue.
“We should probably talk to the family and see what they want to do?” I walked through the dining room and looked out the window. The crime scene team was packing up their equipment and Colette’s body had been removed from the scene.
“Whatever they decide is fine with me.” Dixie walked over to the area where she’d been sorting recipes and began stacking the file cards.
“I’ll go see if I can find Gwen, since she was our contact on the project.” I looked around. No one was in the living room. Maybe the kitchen.
At the massive island, Hilda was prepping for lunch. A gingham apron wrapped around her stocky body, she was cutting up veggies and stacking them on a tray like she was a contestant on Chopped.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Arbor,” I explained.
She turned and gave me a questioning look.
Quiche of Death Page 3
