Drizzle of Death

by CeeCee James

  Mr. Murray’s eyebrow lifted at the word, employee. “You heard that?”

  Was I losing him or interesting him? I couldn’t tell. “Yes. Actually, I have mutual friends with him. Jacob Dienner, wasn’t that his name? The recent news about him has been especially sad.”

  “Oh really? I hadn’t heard,” he said.

  “Yes, he actually passed away a few days ago.” I held my breath, hoping that information wasn’t going to close the door between us, both figuratively and literally.

  Mr. Murray sucked in a breath, seeming very surprised. He shot a glance at his wife and clenched his hand.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  I wasn’t ready to put all my cards on the table. “I’m not sure, exactly. It seems he may have had a troubled last few weeks. I actually heard there was some mishap here. Jacob drove your tractor into a pond?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Yeah, that was something awful. Didn’t take Jacob for someone who’d make a mistake like that. He seemed to have a natural talent for mechanics. He and his friend, Dylan quit the Cash and Carry the next day. I heard Dylan’s returned to the Navy. Haven’t heard anything about Jacob.” He looked sick. “Now I know why.”

  “Do you know what happened with the tractor? How it ended up in the pond?” I took another sip, my tongue rolling over the sour-sweeteness.

  “Nope. Just that the horn started blaring and I raced down there to see what the ruckus was about. Lucky I was home. Or maybe not so lucky, since all I got was a front row seat to watching my tractor sink in yards of muck. Jacob was real shook up, pale as new milk. I remember him thanking me over and over for coming down. Of course, I came running after hearing the horn blaring like that. Anyone would. I did get hold of one of the Brothers and they brought a crew to help pull the tractor out.” He looked at me curiously. “How did you hear about it?”

  “Well,” I licked my bottom lip. “I heard there was something that happened from your store manager, but the actual story was told to me by one of Jacob’s friends. A girl named Mary. Have you ever seen her?”

  “You mean the lil’ bit who was in love with Jacob?”

  My eyes popped open a bit at that. “Are we talking about the same person? She’s an Amish girl,” I said, trying to clarify.

  “Yeah. Cute little thing. I’d always see her black bonnet popping around behind a blueberry bush. Puppy love, I’m guessing. She was constantly watching him. One time, she brought him a picnic basket.”

  “What do you think he thought of her? Did he return her affection?”

  Mr. Murray shook his head. “At first I thought she was his little sister. I asked him one day if she was, and he said no—just an old family friend. I never paid her no mind to being on my property, figured it was harmless.”

  I rubbed my chin, trying to pull back the memory of having a crush on the band leader in high school. I’ll be the first to admit, I fit into the nerdy crowd. But that infatuation had been strong. Had Mary acted like someone in love?

  “So you think Mary had a crush on Jacob,” I reiterated.

  “Something like it. She was here a lot, playing in the pond. I think she might even have a club house.”

  I nodded and drew my finger back and forth through the condensation on the side of my cup. So the cave wasn’t unknown to him.

  “But lately, I’ve been particularly sensitive to people coming on my property. Specifically after the fight.”

  That perked my interest. “Fight?”

  “That day of the tractor incident a crew of boys drove up in my field. Turfed it. I ran out there to see five or six of them screaming at Jacob.”

  “What? Are you serious?” I gasped.

  Mrs. Murray butted in then, her lips pursed. “Dang right, he’s serious. He had to bring out his shotgun. They scattered pretty quick then.”

  Chapter 13

  The conversation with the married couple went on for almost an hour longer. It was interesting to learn about their interactions with the Amish. And everything I was hearing seemed to prove that the Murrays had good relations with their Amish neighbors.

  After the last sip of lemonade, I thanked the couple and said my goodbyes. We left Mrs. Murray clearing the table as Mr. Murray walked me to the front door. He followed me outside, grabbing a rake leaning against the house as he went.

  “Mr. Murray, would you object to me checking out the pond area?”

  He raised an eyebrow and leaned on the rake. “Something you’re looking for?”

  I blushed. “Yes, actually Mary. She’s been missing since Jacob died.”

  He hummed and pushed the brow of his straw hat up. “You think she’s grieving up in that cave, maybe?”

  “I don’t think it could hurt to check. Would that be okay?”

  Mr. Murray nodded. “But you be careful up there, okay? Don’t need another missing person.”

  “Absolutely.” I smiled. “Thanks so much for the lemonade and the talk. It really helped.”

  As I walked around the side to my van, I noticed a pile of plumbing supplies, including a pile of old, dirty metal pipes and a pile of clean synthetic looking ones, were stacked and strapped on.

  ”Are you doing some water work out here?”

  “Trying to get the irrigation going by the pond. Always having to do upkeep on a place like this.”

  I nodded, understanding. Just trying to help Oscar with his repairs was a big job. And it wasn’t even my place.

  As I pulled out of the driveway, I looked back in the rearview mirror at the pile of pipes. My internal wheels were spinning like crazy. I really wished I could talk with Frank, but he’d just push me off again. Sighing, I put on my blinker and turned to drive down Murray’s fence line.

  Several acres later, I parked in the place where I’d first spotted Rebekah and stared out to the pond. So, sometime recently, Jacob nearly got jumped out here by a gang, the same day he accidentally drove the tractor into the pond. And right after that, he ended his Rumspringa and returned to the Amish. Interesting. Very interesting.

  I walked out into the field toward the water, the ground turning marshy the closer I got. It must have rained overnight because the tracks from the tractor being dragged out had turned into mud puddles. And there were those footprints again. I studied them, confused. They all were of the same print. Who danced around in circles like that? But they seemed to be of different sizes. Was it just the rain that had made them look that way?

  And how had the tractor ended up in the pond? I walked around the edge of the water, pushing aside cattails and tall grasses, wondering what Jacob had been thinking.

  At first, it seemed like there was an obvious explanation. Jacob, as a young Amish man, wouldn’t have known how to work a gas engine. But Mr. Murray had clearly said Jacob was good with mechanics and seemed to have a natural knack for it.

  Was it possible he would have purposely driven the tractor into the water?

  As I walked, I slowly began to comb over the area. The grass was thick and yellow from winter, making it hard to see anything other than a stack of pipes piled to one side from the irrigation project. I really felt like I was looking for a hypothetical needle in a haystack. But, since I was here, I might as well see what I could find. I started to search in a more orderly manner by walking in zig-zags down one side and up the other, hunting for anything that stuck out— a gum wrapper, a cigarette pack, a piece of cloth, anything that could tell me something.

  In the end, my walk didn’t provide much. I shivered as the temperature dropped. The sun had started to fade toward the horizon and the shadows grew longer. I needed to get up to the cave soon if I still wanted to have any daylight left.

  Just as I was about to give up, there was a glint. Brief but bright enough to give me hope. I bent down and delicately peeled back the faded stalks. There it was. A small piece of plastic.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out a tissue. Using it, I picked up the dark piece of plastic. It was smooth on all but one
side. I squinted at it in confusion, before wrapping it up and putting it in my pocket. It could be nothing or everything.

  With that find, I called my search to a halt. The sun was nearly down and I needed to get up the hill.

  After a minute, I found the thin reedy path through the tall grasses that led upward. My heart squeezed as I remembered Rebekah pushing through it with a desperate expression of hope that her daughter had been waiting in the cave. And the horrible way her face had fallen when she discovered the space was empty.

  As I waded through the grass, I had hope that I’d have a different result. The cave seemed quiet as I approached, and on my way, I noticed something I’d missed the first time. Some more of those same boot prints with a weird jagged-knob pattern and a circle around a letter K.

  I pushed through the bushes and entered the cave. Inside was cold and dark and felt unvisited, making my heart sink. A quick glance proved that the poem book was also missing. I hoped Rebekah had taken it with her. All that remained was the waxy candle remnant and the chalk drawings on the wall.

  I stared at them for a minute. Reds. Blues. Greens.

  Wait a minute. I rubbed the corner of a picture with my thumb and looked at it. It didn’t rub away. It wasn’t chalk. It had to be some type of paint.

  I spun around. But where was the paint or paintbrush? They had to be around here somewhere.

  The floor was clean swept with a roughly-fashioned broom made from ferns and straw sitting in the corner. A smooth rock that had been used as a stool was the only other item.

  I stared hard at the candle, noting grease marks in the dirt from the excess wax. A quick study of the rest of the floor showed the same dime-size circles near the back of the cave. I hurried over there and knelt down.

  Crumbled pieces of rock were strewn along the wall. I lifted a few but nothing was concealed. Leaning back on my heels, I scrutinized the wall. There was one thick fissure about the width of a pencil. I flashed my light from my cell phone into it but didn’t see anything. Gently, I reached my finger inside to feel around.

  With a crack that startled me, a ten inch piece of the front of the wall came off. It had been resting on a lip and fitted back into place perfectly. Behind it was a pallet of paint and a paintbrush.

  And something else.

  Chapter 14

  Excitement flooded me as I reached into the pocket in the wall that I’d just uncovered and pulled out a torn piece of paper. My hands trembled as I unfolded it.

  It was crudely written with what appeared to be ash from a matchstick. Jacob! Help me. The fat English man is here. He’s walking up to the cave.

  I stared at her hastily scrawled words, barely able to grasp her terror at feeling trapped, watching a man walk to her hiding place. She must have hoped Jacob would look here. But did she really think Jacob would be back after his injury? And how would he know about this place?

  After setting the paper down, I pulled out the paint set. It was cheap, and I bet it was the one that Jacob had bought. Mary must have been the kid Jacob was referring to when he was talking to the manager.

  I examined the outside of the rock opening, this time discovering multiple score marks that looked like they’d been made by a knife. I bet he made this hidey-hole for her to put her paints in. I peeked in the hole again, using the light from my phone.

  In the very back was what looked like a tube. I reached into my pocket for the same piece of tissue and then folded it around the object and pulled it out.

  It was a roll of money, held tight with a rubber band. Stuck in the band was a plastic bag. Tiny. The size of a stamp. It was empty but my stomach clenched inside of me. I’d seen that type of bag before and knew it was to hold drugs.

  Mary? I rejected the idea before it had fully formed. No, Mary wasn’t a drug user. This had to be Jacob’s.

  I leaned back on my heels, the money heavy in my hand. I needed to find someone that Jacob interacted with outside his Amish community. Maybe that girl that Jacob kissed. Maybe she could give me some insight as to who he was in the outside world. He was a quandary for sure. Bought his little admirer paints but then hid his blood money in her cave.

  I slipped the money into my pocket and left the cave. Carefully, I climbed back down the hill, trying not to slide. I’d stayed up there too long, and it was dusky dark. Carefully, I trekked back to my van. The money burdened me so much I’d almost forgotten about the piece of black plastic in my pocket.

  Once in the van, I called Cecelia to see if she needed me to come by tonight.

  “Not tonight. In fact, I didn’t even make dinner,” she admitted.

  “Really?” I was surprised.

  “Just leftovers for me. Frank called to say he was having dinner out as well. But you’re welcome to come by here and help yourself if you’d like.”

  I was disappointed not to get a chance to see him. It sure would have been helpful to show him the money. I wonder who he had plans with. My chest tightened as Jessica popped into my mind.

  “GiGi? You okay?”

  Her words jerked me back. “No, I think I’m just going to grab a bowl of cereal for dinner. I’ll combe by tomorrow, maybe.”

  “Cereal. Just like when you were a kid, I swear,” she said dryly.

  I laughed, not feeling it, and we said goodbye.

  Back at my apartment, I headed to my bedroom and pulled out the money and plastic with the tissue. I set them on the dresser and then grabbed fresh clothes and headed to the shower. As the warm spray washed away the physical and mental grime, I turned the clues over in my head.

  So now I knew why someone would want an Amish boy to die. Drugs. Money. Possibly both. Then there was the girl he kissed. It was a long shot, but she could be a link if her boyfriend was jealous enough. But over a kiss? I shook my head. There had to be something I was missing.

  After the shower, I examined the black plastic next to the money. The plastic was rounded and looked to be the corner of something. I started to take a photo to add to my growing album of “Amish Crime Pictures” when the phone fell out of my hand. It landed on the dresser and the shape of the piece of plastic clarified.

  It was the corner of a cell phone. I lifted the phone and took the picture and then flipped the plastic over with the tissue to take another one.

  Squinting, I leaned closer. The break was sharp and clean, the color wasn’t faded. It had broken off recently. In truth, I figured someone helping Mr. Murray—maybe bringing down the pipes—could have dropped his phone, but I doubted it would break hitting the soft ground. But it would break if it was hit by something hard. Like during a struggle.

  Immediately that goose egg Jacob had on his head came to mind.

  “You aren’t getting away with it. I’m closing in on you,” I whispered. “And I’m going to find Mary, too.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I left my apartment and headed to Coffeelotta, one of my favorite coffee shops. Earlier I’d texted Frank about the things I’d found, and he’d said that he would be there this morning and to swing by and drop them off.

  I had odd nervous squirreliness in my guts. Even though it’d only been since yesterday, it felt like it’d been a while since we’d actually had time to sit down and talk. And I’d been so irritated the last time I’d seen him.

  The van sputtered and I groaned when I noticed the gas gauge. Ugh, almost out of gas. I tapped the gauge hoping it was a fluke, and Old Bella belched out a black cloud seemingly in response. Great.

  Come on baby, you can do it. The station was just six blocks ahead, but past the coffee shop.

  As I passed the Coffeelotta, I saw Frank’s cop car was already there. My heart fluttered with joy as I looked for him in the cafe’s windows.

  I saw him alright. There was Frank sitting in a window booth. But seated across from him was a beautiful brunette.

  It was as if ice water had been dumped down my spine. The woman had gorgeous skin, exotic looks, and silky hair. I’d even bet her
nails were painted. I looked at my own, half-covered in blue and red from painting last night, and curled them under the steering wheel.

  I swallowed and hoped they wouldn’t see me sputter by.

  “Come on, Bella,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Be discreet.”

  Was that Jessica?

  I was so consumed with the thought that it could be her, I nearly passed the gas station, and it was only Old Bella’s cough that reminded me.

  “Crap!” I said, jerking the wheel to pull into the station.

  I pulled up to the pump, unscrewed the cap and jammed the nozzle in. Nervously, I started scraping the paint off my thumbnail, glancing over at the attached convenience store. Should I use the restroom to try and clean up?

  No, I’m not going to change who I am. I squared my shoulders in determination. I’ve been through a lot. I’m not going to let some brunette tart—okay, gorgeous brunette tart—intimidate me.

  I paid for the gas and minutes later, I pulled into the Coffeelotta parking lot. A quick glance at the cars parked in front showed a brand new Honda. Ugh. It was probably hers.

  Trying to shrug off any weird feelings—that wasn’t jealousy, was it?—I parked the van and strode inside.

  Shoulders back, feeling confident, I let out a deep breath as I approached their table.

  The two of them didn’t see me coming. Frank had his head back in a laugh.

  I stopped short. That laugh nearly undid me. When had I ever seen him laugh like that? I touched my short hair and tucked it behind my ear. Now I felt insecure, frumpy.

  The woman looked up and her eyes caught mine. I saw her lean to murmur something to Frank. Her hand briefly touched Frank’s, making fire race through my veins.

  He glanced over his shoulder and waved at me. “Come on, slowpoke. Come meet Jessica.” He slid over in the booth to make space.

  “Hi,” I said as I sat down. She smiled and extended a hand to shake mine.