A Time To Kiln

by Gilian Baker

  More pieces clicked into place. Not only did Paula have no need to be jealous about Shelly’s affection for Dillon because of the way she bullied her way into their lives, but also because Paula was slim, fit and attractive. All the attention she got from the men around town proved that she was desirable. Shelly on the other hand was built more like a rancher’s wife—a sturdy build for bearing children, someone durable who could help with the heavy lifting and hard work that was part of that lifestyle. Shelly was attractive, with those big, wide blue eyes. She wasn’t fat, just muscular. Many men found women like her attractive. But not Dillon.

  Oh, Sweet Mary! How could I have overlooked Shelly all this time? She matched the description of the killer! She was tall, heavily-built and wore a large shoe size. She had straight sandy-colored hair. And spending all that time with Paula in the studio meant Paula may have told her, or even shown her, how the kiln worked and how hot it could get.

  I’d underestimated Shelly this whole time. What a moron I’d been. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shelly had counted on being misjudged. No doubt she’d experienced that many times throughout her young life. She came off as flaky and too eager to please. For days I’d been worried I’d underestimated Dillon, when it had been Shelly I’d misjudged. My intuition had never let me down before, and this felt so right. Shelly had murdered Paula so she could replace her.

  I grabbed my cell phone and called the sheriff’s department. Both Ross and Crystal were out, but I left a message with Sheryl for him to call me on my cell as soon as he came in. I’d fill him in on my theory and let him gather the facts to prosecute.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hanging up the phone, I headed out to the car. I felt confident I’d figured out who’d killed Paula. Now it was time to work out who’d killed Jack. As I drove to Natalie’s, I prayed last night’s storm had blown the cobwebs out of my brain, and I’d be my old self again now.

  After ringing Natalie’s doorbell, I looked around. I’d maneuvered past a muddy Razor ATV pointed nose towards the road when I’d come into the drive. Natalie must have been out patrolling her acreage earlier to see if the storm had caused any damage. We hadn’t had any rain for a couple of weeks, but the fierce storm last night had caused some flooding in the fields around, just as it had in our yard.

  I rang the doorbell again, but then heard a loud banging in the stables. Using my sleuthing prowess, I figured she hadn’t opened up because she was the one doing the banging. I headed out to the stables humming a little tune as I went. When I reached the door, I called her name.

  “Yes?” She came out of one of the stalls with a pitchfork, not my favorite tool, having almost been run through with one during my last investigation. I was relieved when she smiled at me, and leaned it against a nearby stall wall. Her smile was tense, but who could blame her after the questions I’d asked last time? She wasn’t going to like these either.

  “Oh, Jade. How are you?” She dusted her work gloves against her jean legs. How was it that even mucking out stalls she looked beautiful?

  “Hi, Natalie. Sorry if I’ve caught you at a bad time. I just had a couple of other questions for you.”

  “Sure, though I am busy. Do you mind asking while I work?”

  “I have no problem with that.” We walked into the open area of the barn. I sat on a bale of straw, wiggling around until I wasn’t being poked in the butt with the straw twigs poking out.

  She resumed her mucking making tha-wak, tha-wak sounds as the blades of the pitchfork occasionally scratched the surface of the cement underneath. The smell of old manure wasn’t as strong as I’d expected. I watched dust from the fresh straw floating in the air as the sun shone into the barn. It was a lovely sight, if you ignored the thought that you were also breathing in all that dust.

  “I know in class, Paula didn’t go into the details of firing the pottery, but I wondered if you’d ever taken a class before or if you knew anything about working a kiln.”

  She stopped her raking momentarily to look at me. “What a strange question. No, I was brand new to throwing pottery, as my unsuccessful attempts should have made clear.” She laughed in a way that sounded genuine.

  “Mine were no better.” I smiled at her. “Have you ever learned anything about firing a kiln? It sounds really complicated, using particular heat variables for different types of glazes.”

  “Nope. Don’t know anything about it. I was looking forward to seeing my finished work though, once I got better at turning a lump of clay into a serviceable item. Some of the stuff Paula threw was magnificent. Too bad the classes were cut short.” She scrunched up her face when she’d realized how that sounded. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Of course, the horrible part was that Paula was killed.”

  “Oh, I totally understand. When I read about her death in the newspaper, one of my first thoughts was that now I’d never be able to sip tea out of a mug I’d made with my own hands. I still regret thinking that, even though it was kind of involuntary.”

  Natalie smiled and nodded, after which, she resumed her work.

  “So you’ve never been around anyone who threw pots. What about doing research online about firing? I know I tend to get obsessed with new things I’m learning and can’t get enough information. Are you like that? Did you ever do any research on kilns?”

  She stopped her work again and looked questioningly at me. “What are you getting at, Jade? How on earth could that be important?”

  “It is, just trust me.”

  She resumed her work. After a moment she said in a slightly irritated tone, “No, I haven’t. I guess I’ve got too many other things to think about. I just saw the class as a bit of fun. I had no desire to learn the intricacies of pottery or ceramics or whatever you call a finished product.”

  “Okay. Thanks for indulging me. I know it doesn’t seem like it’s relevant to the murders, but it is. I just can’t explain why.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and kept raking. She had quite a pile of old, used straw by now. I vaguely thought about asking her for some of it to take home to put on my garden, but I wasn’t sure she’d be amicable once I’d finished with my questions.

  I cleared my throat, bringing my mind back to the present. “Are you having an affair with Dillon Hexby?”

  She stopped abruptly and stared at me. “What?”

  Even though she wore a look of surprise on her face, she was unable to look me straight in the eyes. Her gaze fell somewhere above my head, so it only appeared as though she was looking straight at me. I’d learned that trick as a new teacher, intimidated by students only a few years younger than me.

  She turned back to her task, which looked finished to my untrained eye. She seemed to be moving the pile around randomly, like a kid shuffling his vegetables around on his plate in the hopes it’d look like he’d eaten some of them.

  “Or,” I went on, “maybe it’s over, but you had been having an affair.”

  “What on earth would give you such a crazy notion? He’s almost young enough to be my son.”

  I shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. And the reason I believe I’m right is that I’ve noticed, since Jack’s death in particular, every time I spoke to Dillon, he seemed so much more confident than usual. His vocabulary had suddenly grown, and he didn’t flounder when I asked him about legal issues. It was as if he’d been coached on what to say when asked about things like that.”

  “How would that lead you to me? Lots of people could have done that, including his parents, one would assume.” She suddenly decided that task was completed. She grabbed a wicked-looking hay hook off a nail on a large beam and in one smooth motion, used her left hand to hook a bail of straw with it. Hastily, she lugged it towards the stall at the back of the barn. I followed behind. Something was prickling at the back of my mind, though it wasn’t coming to the surface yet.

  “I barely know the kid. I didn’t have any reason to know him well.” In one mighty stroke, she cut the twine holding the straw to
gether with a knife she’d pulled out of her back pocket.

  “And yet, I saw the two of you acting pretty cozy outside the funeral home at Paula’s viewing. Just after he’d thrown a vase of flowers at Jack.”

  She flung straw around the stall with great force. “Is it a crime to show someone compassion? I saw him out beside the building on the way to my car. I went over to offer my condolences since I hadn’t gotten the chance before he’d stormed out.”

  “It certainly looked more intimate than that to me.”

  Finished bedding that stall, she headed back to the front of the building, hooked another bail and came back, her face red and sweating. It was warm, but I guessed her face was showing more about the emotions she was trying to hide rather than the labor she was performing.

  “What do you want me to say, Jade? Huh? I guess being at the first viewing since my husband died had brought all those memories back. So maybe I was being more familiar with Dillon than I would otherwise.”

  She went through the same movements she had in the last stall, though her straw slinging was even more erratic now. While I watched, those nagging inklings came to the surface of my mind. Dillon had said, “one would assume” to me just the other day. I’d thought what an odd turn of phrase it was for him. It was Natalie who’d been coaching him.

  As a bonus, my mind offered me yet another aha moment in a sudden flash. Natalie was left-handed. Jack had been injected with ketamine on the left side of his neck. If someone had come up behind him to inject him, they would have done so with their dominate hand, meaning Jack’s killer was left-handed.

  “You just called him ‘Dillon,’” I pointed out.

  More tossing of straw ensued. After a beat she went on. “That’s his name, isn’t it?”

  “But folks around here would have used his family name if they weren’t friends, even when the person is younger. Remind me, Natalie. What did your husband do?”

  “He was a criminal lawyer, what of it?”

  “You know what I think?”

  Toss, toss. “No, but I bet you are going to tell me.”

  “I think you were having an affair with Dillon. I think you killed Jack out of revenge now because you thought you could get away with it, using the other murder as a smokescreen. Heck, maybe you even killed Paula to get her out of the way. I think you’ve been carefully coaching Dillon on what to say when questions were asked. I think you are his alibi for Paula’s murder. And I think you took some of the vet’s ketamine, gave it to Jack, garroted him with the same tool as in the first murder, took him to the pottery studio and dragged him across the floor.”

  Seeing the viciousness in her eyes and determination on her face, I realized I’d gone too far. The fact that she was pointing the bale hook at me like a weapon gave me another clue.

  “You think you’re so smart. You don’t know anything.” She slashed the hook in the air. I walked backwards as quickly as I could, trying to come up with a plan to get myself out of this. She kept pace with me, face still red and sweating.

  As I passed by the first stall, I grabbed the pitchfork she’d left there and swung it at her with all my might. She fell to the ground, shrieking in pain. I didn’t look back. I just ran for the car. There was no point in trying to battle it out with her. I’d lose, and in a big way. She was much stronger than me and younger to boot.

  Thanking my lucky stars I’d left the keys in the ignition, I turned the key while looking out the back window. I didn’t see her coming yet. I vaguely wondered how badly she was hurt.

  The engine made a sickening grinding sound. I tried it again, only to get the same result. “No, no!” I screamed and hit the steering wheel. Why hadn’t I taken the car in to be serviced at the first sign of trouble?

  No time for admonishments now. I got out of the car and turned towards the barn to see if Natalie was coming. I didn’t see her, but I did see the ATV. It was my best hope. If she hadn’t left the keys in it, I was going to have to run for it, and hope she was too badly injured to follow on foot.

  I slammed the car door and sprinted to the Razor. Relief flooded my limbs as I saw the keys shining in the sun as they dangled from the ignition. I’d never driven one of these before, but I had no other choice. I glanced behind me once more.

  Natalie was making good time, coming towards me holding her right arm, her face winced in pain. I turned back around and focused on breathing while I forcefully turned the key. The Razor roared to life. I put it in gear and pressed the petal as far as it would go. With a jerk, it zoomed forward, throwing stones from the graveled lot behind me.

  It fishtailed as I turned onto the gravel road that led into town. I turned to see her looking around at her options to chase me. She must not have had any other keys with her because, after patting down her jean pockets, she starting running for the front door of the house.

  I turned back around and forced myself not to look back until I was halfway to town. Along the way, I’d hit several water puddles, spraying myself and my ride with mud. I turned my head to spit out what had landed in my mouth after going through the last one. I wiped my lips with my bare arm and kept going.

  My heart was still racing and my breathing was shallow, knowing it was possible for Natalie to catch up with me in a car. Trying to calm myself, I struggled to take deep, conscious inhales and then release them slowly.

  When I reached the paved main street, I snuck a peek behind me, but didn’t see any vehicles. For the first time, I believed I just might make it to safety. I swerved into a makeshift parking space in front of the sheriff’s department, turned off the Razor and ran for my life to the front door.

  All conversation halted as I propelled the door open, causing it to hit the wall. The bells above it, there to signal when someone entered the building, threatened to come down with the force. All eyes were on me and my grand entrance—eyes wide with surprise and concern.

  “I know who killed Paula Hexby and Jack Bristol.” I took another big breath. “And why.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A few days after escaping death and solving the murders, I sat with Phyllis on her flowered davenport in her new bungalow.

  “You poor dear. You must’ve been scared to death.” She poured tea as she commiserated.

  “I was. And when the adrenaline wore off, I felt like I could’ve slept for a week.” I leaned over and plopped a dollop of cream into my tea and stirred. “Did you know, I was covered in so much mud from my Razor ride from hell, nobody in the sheriff’s department knew who I was when I first stormed in proclaiming I’d solved the case?”

  She chuckled. “Well, you were very brave, clean or muddy. You ended up solving both cases, just as I knew you would.” She winked at me.

  “Thanks for believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

  “Now, tell me the details. Where was Natalie when Ross got to her place? I don’t understand why she didn’t come after you, there was so much at stake.”

  “She was passed out in her front hall, car keys in hand. She fainted from the pain of her compound fracture or fear…or both. It’s lucky for me because she could’ve easily run me off the road in her hulking SUV. If I’d fallen off the Razor, I’d be roadkill right now.”

  Phyllis shuddered. “So what has she confessed to?”

  “As I’d deduced, she’d harbored resentment towards Jack for years, biding her time until she could give him his just desserts. When Paula was murdered, she saw it as a sign—she could now have Dillon, and use it as a smokescreen to kill Jack. She lured him to her house for a one-night stand and plied him with alcohol. Once he was off-guard, she injected him with ketamine. Then she garroted him and put him in her SUV to haul to the pottery studio. Forensics found his DNA in her vehicle.”

  “And you were the only one to figure it out.” She smiled at me like a proud parent.

  “I think she’s been so lonely after losing her husband and then having Jack run out on her, she grabbed the first opportunity th
at came along—Dillon.”

  “Who’d have thought she was one of them, what do you call it? Leopards.”

  “I think you mean ‘cougars,’ Phyllis.”

  “Oh, yes. One of them.”

  I picked up one of the homemade cookies she’d brought out of the oven when I’d arrived. It was crunchy around the outside and chewy in the middle, just as I like them.

  Phyllis tutted. “What a shame—both women were after the same young man, and now two innocent people are dead and neither women will get the guy.”

  “Yeah. It seems Natalie and her husband hadn’t been able to have children, and she saw Dillon and Harper as her last chance. Both Shelly and Natalie wanted to take care of Dillon, which is what he needed all along.”

  “There’s something I never understood. Why didn’t Paula have Shelly’s skin under her fingernails? You’d think if someone were strangling you from behind you’d claw like a madwoman to get away.”

  I finished chewing the last morsel of my cookie before explaining. “The tool she used comes in different wire lengths, and she used a long one to garrote her. She’d clawed at her own neck in an attempt to get the wire away from her.”

  Phyllis brought her hand up to her throat and stroked it. “How awful.”

  We sat in silence for a couple of moments, each thinking our own thoughts.

  Phyllis suddenly came out of her reverie and became animated again. “So how did you put it all together—that Shelly had killed Paula?”

  “It started the day Shelly snuck up behind me in T & S, though understanding didn’t reach my conscious until later.” I took her through how I’d connected the dots. “The problem all along had been that I’d dismissed her as a flake who didn’t have it in her to plan a murder.”

  “Just as I said about Natalie. You wouldn’t think she’d come up with such a horrible plan.”

  “Yes, and she was ready to kill again, this time with a bale hook.”