“It’s going to be difficult. He’s smart and wary. He’s a planner. He will have thought about each detail. This will be tough, if not impossible.”
“After talking to Mrs. Hobb, I understand the true importance of the stolen photograph is that it shows Joe walking by in the background with his parents tugging him along. I’ve seen that photograph hundreds of times and it never occurred to me that the child in it was connected to anyone in the group in particular. Even worse, I didn’t ask about the appearance of the little family at all—ever.”
“He recognized himself in the photo. That’s what he saw during your dinner.”
“He wouldn’t have known that he was in it at all. But it’s obvious that the child is looking at Naomi with her striking lock of white hair, just like Joe’s.”
“We need to let Sheriff Larson know what we’ve found out.”
“I agree. I think I’ll run down to Roy and Elsie’s house and use their land line. I don’t want to try to get this information across with a bad cell signal.” She shook her head. “We should have stopped by when we were in town.”
Austin stood. “I’m not sure we would have been able to give a sensible account of what we think has happened. Anyway, better let me use my radio. The dispatcher can connect me to the sheriff’s office.”
“We’ve discovered what no police officer would have been able to find out. A shameful family secret buried in the past. So deeply buried that not even close family and friends knew. It wasn’t discovered even when the evidence was displayed in plain sight.” Miranda chewed on her nail.
“I wonder what happened to Joe after Mrs. Childers returned to high school?”
“I think he’s the only one who can tell us.”
Sandy had tired of leaf pouncing and was trying to get up the porch steps. Austin got out of the swing, bent down, and scooped him up. Sandy’s tail was wagging so hard that he nearly wobbled out of Austin’s grasp. “Nothing good ever comes from secrets.”
He handed Sandy over to Miranda. “I’ll make that call.” He walked over to his truck and sat inside to contact Sheriff Larson. The conversation lasted awhile, but when he returned, Miranda was still on the swing holding Sandy, who had fallen asleep in the crook of her arm.
Austin carefully sat next to Miranda without disturbing the puppy. “I just can’t figure out how we prove it’s Joe. There’s no reason for him to confess to anything. Unless we can prove he is her son, he’s not even a viable suspect. He can return to his university, get his funding, and complete his book. There are no consequences for him.”
“Meanwhile, I lose the farmhouse.”
“I don’t think that was part of the plan.”
“I don’t think killing his mother was part of the plan.”
Miranda shifted her position on the swing and Sandy woke up to try to lick Miranda’s chin. “It does feel petty to be worried about a bit of property when his whole life has been filled with the knowledge that he was unwanted.” She lifted Sandy up in the air. With each bounce he became more and more determined to lick her face. She cuddled him on her shoulder.
Finally, Miranda thought of something. “What if we lure him out here with the news that I’ve discovered a box full of old reunion pictures in the attic?”
Austin scowled. “How would we get the word out to him?”
“I could have Doris Ann tell him. She knows he’s looking into the early history of Wolfe County. He’s been eating at the lodge and probably speaks to her when he goes in and out. Who doesn’t? That would look friendly and natural coming from her.”
“How would that implicate him? Everyone knows that he does research. He could just claim that he wanted to look at them to strengthen his references.”
Miranda sighed with frustration. “Let me think. There’s got to be a way for us to hint that one of the photographs proves an unknown connection that shows motivation for killing Mrs. Childers.”
“That sounds a bit far-fetched.” Austin also sighed. “But I can’t think of anything better.”
She paused for a few seconds. “I want Doris Ann to have a convincing story.” She poked him in the shoulder. “Come on, put on your thinking cap. We can do this. We’re clever.”
“I thought Doris Ann was interfering with your business?”
“We’ve come to a no-fault truce on the subject of moonshine, mostly because she loves the idea of the painting lessons followed by tasting real Southern cooking.”
Austin shrugged his shoulders. “She’s a lynchpin in Wolfe County politics. If you win her over, things will go very smoothly.”
“Here’s a refinement of our story. I have Doris Ann tell him that because of the missing picture, I searched through the attic and found a small box of family reunion photographs that date way back to Mrs. Childers’s high school days. I’m planning to try to identify everyone by showing them to clients and locals alike.”
“And you’re going to donate them to the Wolfe County Historical Museum so they can add them to the display that is already set up.”
“And I want to do that before the funeral so that people can see what a lovely young woman she was back then. Also, we can say that museum is planning to put the reunion pictures alongside of the high school yearbook exhibit.” She raised her eyebrows. “What do you think? Plausible?”
“Barely, but we can hope that he won’t be looking into the logic very closely. He’ll just want to get hold of those photographs.” He paused for a few moments. “How on earth can we control the timing so that Sheriff Larson can arrest him? We’re assuming that he’s willing to disregard the fact that it isn’t his case.”
“We can tell Doris Ann that Doc is so interested that he’s going to visit the farmhouse just to see if the collection in the box is as fantastic as we claim. She can say he’s coming over right after he closes the museum tomorrow. That way he’ll have enough time to get over here and want to have a look.”
“What about your clients?”
“I don’t have anyone signed up for tomorrow. I’ll go up to the lodge in the morning and explain everything to Doris Ann. I’m going to ask her to claim that I’m booked up if anyone wants a class. That will at least give the impression that business is good. Do you think our plan is too far-fetched?”
“There’s a slim chance that it might work.”
“Then it’s a plan.”
Chapter 34
Thursday Afternoon, Sheriff’s Office
Miranda had rummaged around up in the attic and managed to find a cardboard shoebox full of family photographs. She had spread them out on the dining room table on a plain white linen tablecloth. She sorted them in chronological order as best as she could then studied them carefully. Nothing struck her as remotely useful.
She gave up and as she started to get in the van, the phone company bucket truck rumbled down the road and stopped in front of her house. The lineman hopped out. “I’ve got the right connectors for your phone. Do you want me to go ahead?”
“Yes, sir! That would be wonderful.” She couldn’t believe her luck that she would finally have a functioning telephone. She called Doris Ann with the number as soon as it began to work.
The next step was to convince Sheriff Larson to go along with their plan. She drove into Campton and walked into the sheriff’s office. There was no one around. The door was cracked open, so she quietly slipped into Sheriff Larson’s office and stood just inside. He didn’t see her because he was peering into a computer monitor, using his finger to draw a line along an e-mail message that he was reading aloud.
He read, “Planning committee meeting postponed due to a lack of quorum among the membership. The soonest an election can be held—”
Miranda cleared her throat and Sheriff Larson startled like a cat seeing a cucumber. His hand went to the pistol on his hip as he looked up at her. “Holy smokes! What on earth are you doing in here?”
“No one is out front. The door was open.” Miranda shrugged.
Larson
rose and brushed by Miranda to the outer office. He groaned in frustration, then looked back at her. “Gary is supposed to be out here.” He grimaced and made his way back to sit behind the desk. He waved at her to sit down in one of the side chairs. “Sorry, I’m a little busy. What do you want?”
Miranda marshalled the diplomatic skills she had acquired while negotiating with art gallery owners. It had taken a silver tongue to convince anyone in New York City to put a single one of her paintings on display. She considered charm and persuasion two of the best blessings from her Scots-Irish heritage.
She succeeded with Sheriff Larson and he agreed to the plan. He followed her back to the farmhouse after tracking down Gary. He also notified his wife and called Lexington.
He was now safely hidden away in Uncle Gene’s bedroom, his patrol car hidden in the barn. She had agreed to be wired so that anything that Joe Creech said to her would be recorded. The slight weight of the little battery pack clipped to the back of her jeans was a reminder of the seriousness of the situation. She left her shirt untucked to disguise its bulk.
Joe had called Miranda shortly after he heard the news from Doris Ann. Miranda readily agreed that he could search through the photos for his research project before she turned them over to the museum.
Not fifteen minutes later, Doris Ann had again called from the lodge to tell her Joe had left and should be arriving at the farmhouse very soon.
Miranda’s van was parked outside in its normal spot in the graveled driveway. Austin had walked down from his house earlier. She was surprised that she felt so glad that he was here. Sheriff Larson had initially objected but Miranda had declared that it wasn’t up for discussion.
“One thing.” Sheriff Larson stepped out into the dining room and gestured at the collection of firearms hanging on pegs in her uncle’s bedroom. “Are you carrying a—?”
“Nope, not a chance.” She cut off his request with a chop of her hand before he continued further. “Don’t even think about it.”
“But, girl,” he continued, “you grew up around here. You know how to shoot.”
“Sheriff, I’m not a girl, I’m a grown woman. Yes, I spent my summers here. But I didn’t grow up here. My mom and all her kin are from here, but I’m not. I know how to shoot a snake for protection, or a deer for food, but I’m not trained to shoot at a man. There’s no way I would feel safe with a gun. I would just as likely hit you, me, Austin, or Sandy.”
“I don’t expect you to need it. I would just feel better if you had it.”
“I’ve had my say.” Miranda folded her arms across her chest.
Sheriff Larson shrugged his shoulders. “Since you feel that strongly, you’re completely right.” He returned to her uncle’s bedroom and the waiting began.
The seven-day wind-up clock on the dining room buffet table ticked the time away—tick by tick by tick for each long second. Each second seemed to take an agonizing hour. The noise level in the house hushed down to only birdsong and the plaintive calls of a pair of nestling hawks calling for food.
Miranda heard a car coming up the road at a fair clip. She could hear the pinging of loose gravel hitting the underside of a vehicle. “That must be him.” She went out onto the porch.
Instead it was the mail truck, which was running late. The clerk from the post office leaned out of the right-hand-drive vehicle and put the mail in Miranda’s mailbox. She waved a friendly hi and sped down the road to catch Austin’s house and the two more behind his. She would be coming back out on her return run in about ten minutes.
Miranda put her arm up to guard against a bright beam of light in her eyes. She looked around the farmhouse to see what could have caused the flash. Binoculars maybe? She scanned around the horizon again. Nothing.
Miranda went back inside and rearranged the photographs. They were quite old and some sported border edges cut in a wavy trim.
Right on time, the postal truck sped down the dirt road on its way to the next country lane. Then another twenty minutes passed with nothing but silence.
She continued to sort through the pictures and noticed that one of them was taken at the view of Lover’s Leap. In fact, it looked very much like the exact spot where she held her painting classes. It had been printed at an 8x10 size. That was pretty expensive for those days. She took the photograph and put it in her painting backpack.
Too restless to sit another second, she went into the kitchen and opened three Ale-8 soda bottles. She tapped on her uncle’s bedroom door. Austin appeared, an anxious look on his face. “Is he here?”
“No, but I think he’s watching us. I saw a flash that might be binoculars across the gully near the abandoned house site.”
Sheriff Larson took one of the soda bottles from Miranda and gulped half of it down in one swig. He looked back at Miranda. “Thanks. These stakeout sessions make me thirsty. I don’t know if it’s the anticipation or the boredom.”
Miranda said. “Anticipation.”
Austin said. “Boredom.”
Sheriff Larson chucked. “Well, I think we’re done with both. If he’s out there with binoculars, he’s seen me and Austin. He may be spooked.”
Austin piped in, “Or it may be a hunter trying to spot game. It’s deer and turkey season.”
“How can we entice him in?”
Miranda’s phone rang. “Paint & Shine Cultural Adventures. This is Miranda Trent. How can I help you?”
She was silent for a few seconds. “Thanks for letting me know. I hope you aren’t in trouble on my account.”
Miranda turned to Austin and Sheriff Larson. “That was Doris Ann. She thought I should know that Joe Creech has checked out of his room. Doris Ann overheard the cleaner report it to the cashier. He didn’t pay his balance and the manager is furious that someone would skip out on a week’s fee during prime leaf-peeper season.”
Sheriff Larson looked at the photograph in her hand. “Is that from the box?”
“Yes, it struck me as being familiar. It’s a version of the one that was stolen off the front-room wall.”
“Is it the same people?” asked Austin. He looked over her shoulder at the print.
She looked closely. “I think so, but it’s funny how something you see every day can virtually disappear because it’s so familiar.” She held it up to catch the light coming from the dining room window. “I think it’s very close. See.” She pointed to a small figure in the background. “Joe is still looking towards the rest of the group.”
Austin sighed. “Do we think he’ll come by the farmhouse, now?”
Sheriff Larson shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to say. If he’s determined to get a look at these photos before they go to the museum, then he’ll be here soon. If not, he’s probably on the road by now. I need to let Lexington know.” He walked into the front room and started to make the call and his shoulders slumped. “No signal.”
“You can use my new phone,” said Miranda.
“Thanks, but this discussion will go down better if I use official channels. I’ll go out and use the patrol car radio.”
Sheriff Larson started to head for the front door, but they all heard several fast cars coming down the gravel road and skid to a stop in front of the farmhouse. The dust they had thrown up got caught in the breeze and blew over in a cloud of thick yellow powder that enveloped the arriving passengers.
Miranda, Austin, and Sheriff Larson ran out to stand on the front porch watching four members of the Lexington Police Department emerge from the dust cloud coughing, spitting, and slapping their hats to clear off their clothes.
“That’s why you don’t speed on a dirt road,” whispered Austin. “The drivers must be city folk.”
Miranda had clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. There were two tiny laughter tears making their way down her cheeks. “You’d think they would have ventured out onto a horse farm at some point. They have a lot of dirt roads.”
His face red with anger combined with embarrassment, Detect
ive Peterson walked into the front yard. Two of his officers had sprinted around the back of the farmhouse and two more stood on either end of the porch. “I don’t think you’re going to find this one bit funny.”
Detective Peterson motioned to the officer at the far end of the porch. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, the officer headed for Miranda.
“Hey!” Sheriff Larson stepped between Miranda and the officer. “She’s not the one you want. You already know who the killer is.” He turned to glare at Detective Peterson. “What is going on with you?”
“I’m here to arrest Miranda Trent for the murder of Naomi Childers.” Detective Peterson pointed at Sheriff Larson. “Stop this nonsense. You know she’s the one. There’s means—her fingerprints are all over the knife. There’s motive from the moonshine arguments that everyone heard multiple times. And for opportunity—this is her farmhouse—perfect! If you interfere, I’ll arrest you for obstruction and make sure you never work in law enforcement again.”
Miranda noticed that Austin had gently turned sideways to stand next to her. Sheriff Larson and Austin had bookended her against her accusers, which gave her a bit of courage. She spoke with force but didn’t shout, “You’ve got this all wrong. We know who killed Naomi Childers.”
The officer stepped onto the porch towards Miranda, but Sheriff Larson stood his ground and held up a hand to stop the forward movement. He looked down at Detective Peterson. “Before this gets too complicated, why don’t you let me tell you what’s in the report I sent you. What you’ll find in there is the sworn testimony of Viola Hobb, who has identified that Joe Creech is the illegitimate son of Viola Childers.”
“I don’t have to take anything you say into account. You’ve been getting in the way since this happened. Now, back away and let’s get her in the cruiser.” He motioned to the officer on the porch to go ahead.
“Just how long do you think it will take us to get a Lexington judge to release her? Listen to me for just one minute. As a sworn officer of the law in the Commonwealth of Kentucky, you can at least do that, can’t you?”
Still Knife Painting Page 22
