Still Knife Painting

by Cheryl Hollon

  Detective Peterson growled in frustration, and then something scratched his pants leg. He put his hand on his gun ready to draw. Then he suddenly stopped and smiled. Sandy was reaching up to him with both paws, begging to be petted. His tail was wagging and his head tilted one way and then the other, accompanied by a puppy whine. Detective Peterson backed away so quickly that Sandy tumbled into a forward summersault.

  That broke the tension. There was a round of nervous chuckling and Detective Peterson laughed out loud. He scooped up the blond charmer and let Sandy lick his face. “You know buddy, you’ve got the best idea. Let’s take a little time to get this right.” He looked at Sheriff Larson. “Tell me about your evidence.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s get comfortable. This might take a spell and you don’t need to be standing out in the yard. We’ve got to work together or we’re both going to lose our jobs.”

  Everyone settled down, with Miranda on the swing and Austin in the rocker. Detective Peterson sat next to Sheriff Larson on the slatted bench. The other officers either sat on the edge of the porch or leaned against one of the columns.

  Detective Peterson nodded and watched while Sheriff Larson pulled out a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. He smoothed the paper on his knee and handed it over. Detective Peterson spent a few silent minutes reading the report and his expression changed from irritation to dejection and finally to resolve.

  He handed the paper back to Sheriff Larson and cleared his throat. “I’ve been pigheaded. You’ve got all the proof we need to arrest Joe Creech for the murder of Viola Childers. Thanks for being persistent. It would have been a holy nightmare if I had arrested Miranda.” He paused for a long time, looking down at Sandy rolling over on his beautiful boots. “Thanks.” He smiled and gave Sandy a belly scratching.

  Sheriff Larson acknowledged that with a tip of his hat. “The problem we’re faced with now is that he knows that we’re on to him.”

  “I don’t know what we can do to fix this. It appears that probably either one of us could have spooked him.” Detective Peterson picked up Sandy and handed him over to Miranda.

  “What’s done is done,” said Sheriff Larson. “There’s no telling if we’ll ever see him again.”

  Chapter 35

  Friday Morning, View of Lover’s Leap

  Miranda was delighted that three clients had signed up for her cultural adventure this morning. She was dreading another total cancellation. That would have stressed her out completely. At least with small classes, she was getting a little cash and with any luck some great reviews on social media.

  Good reviews brought more business. More business brought more reviews.

  Her clients were three sisters from West Liberty, Kentucky, a short thirty-minute drive from Hemlock Lodge. They had heard about her experience from the clerk at the post office and looked up her few online ratings. They regularly left kids and kin home to treat themselves to what they called a Sister Retreat. It had become important to them since their parents had died in an auto accident.

  They were settled in with easels and had started to paint at the Lover’s Leap overlook. Lily called to tell her that she and Iris had arrived to start cooking. Venison chili again, but those girls were great. Miranda was listening for trail sounds to indicate that Austin had arrived to give his talk.

  “Miss, do you have more red paint? I’ve spilled some and now I don’t have any more.”

  “Sure thing.” Miranda grabbed her squirt bottle of red and resupplied the sister’s pallet. She looked down the trail again, but no Austin. She went ahead and taught the next segment and refilled the water cup that one of the other sisters had tipped over. They were a clumsy lot, but good-natured about it.

  She pulled out the 8x10 black-and-white picture that she had discovered in the attic and found room for it on her easel. Indeed, it was taken in the exact same spot. The grouping included the little boy and his parents walking by at the very edge on the right-hand side. They weren’t meant to be in the picture, but the photographer didn’t bother to crop him out.

  She turned back to her class to instruct the next section and spied Austin coming down the trail. What a relief to see him, but he wasn’t smiling.

  Not good.

  “Ladies, I’m happy to welcome our very own local forest ranger, Austin Morgan. He probably knows more about the history of this area than Daniel Boone himself.”

  Austin smiled at her as he took a position in front of the sisters with his back to the view. He launched into a short version of the history of the red chimney stacks. By the time he finished his talk and answered their questions, the sisters were laughing and gave him a round of applause.

  As he left them, he leaned over to Miranda and whispered in her ear, “Stay safe,” then gave Miranda another smile.

  After the pictures were completed, Miranda and the sisters packed up their painting supplies. The cheerful, clumsy sisters dropped almost everything at least once but managed to keep their paintings safe. They were chattering like magpies on the trail back to Hemlock Lodge. They had just turned the first bend in the trail when Miranda rubbed her forehead. “I forgot my water bottle. It’s my favorite, too. Stay right here until I get back. I’ll only be a minute.”

  She ran back to the overlook. The water bottle was right where she left it.

  Maybe a camo-colored bottle isn’t the smartest thing if I don’t want to keep losing it. She scooped it up from the patch of brush and took off her backpack to stow it away.

  A corner of the vintage photograph was peeking out of the exterior pocket. She pulled it out and held up the photograph once more and compared it to the view. She lowered it and did a double take as Joe Creech now stood in the same spot as he had been when the shot was snapped.

  “I need that photograph.” He stepped over onto the trail and stretched out his hand towards Miranda.

  She backed away from his reach—aware that the three-thousand-foot drop was beside her. “What are you doing?”

  “I need that. It’s the only connection left to prove that I was born here.”

  “But you’re in the background—not even in focus.” She spoke louder. “Why would you think that?”

  “Don’t act stupid. How many times do you see a white patch of hair on a boy?”

  Miranda couldn’t hear the noisy sisters, so they must have continued down the trail. They wouldn’t hear her if she shouted.

  Joe reached for the photograph.

  Miranda pulled it back out of his reach and stepped away. It placed her another foot closer to the precipice. “I can’t let you have this. What did you do with the picture you stole from my farmhouse?”

  “I burned it. That’s what I’m about to do with this one.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun that had been tucked in his waistband.

  Miranda felt a punch of terror strike her in the chest. She gritted her teeth and calmed her voice. “But I’ve seen it. I’ve seen them both.” She paused for a second. “Austin has seen it too. I’m not the only one.”

  “I know, I know. But the only way this is going to go away is for you both to suffer a tragic hiking accident. No one would believe that you and your ranger could get lost in the woods. It has to be a fall.”

  “But you didn’t kill Mrs. Childers deliberately, did you?”

  Joe dropped his gun arm down to his side. “No.” He looked at the photograph in her hand. “It was the last thing I wanted to happen.”

  Miranda spoke in a low, calm tone. “She was your birth mother, wasn’t she?”

  “I knew you were about to figure everything out and any kind of scandal would destroy my future. No grants. No tenure at the University of Kentucky.” He paused. “I wanted to let her know that I was fine. I wanted her to know that her decision to adopt me out was the right one. When I saw the photograph, I knew she was the one. I wanted to meet her and tell her that. I wanted to say that I understood why she had to send me away.”

  Miranda lowered the photograph.
“That’s why you’ve been researching this area. You knew that your birth would have caused havoc with her family. They would have lost everything—their store, the farm. It was a bad time. Things are very different now. But you know that, right?”

  “Yes. And I know from the home’s records that she stayed with me for six months. That was unusual. She started working there so she could stay longer. Most babies are adopted within days after delivery. She didn’t want to leave me.”

  “What did she say when you told her who you were in the kitchen?”

  “She was totally shocked, then she got angry.” Tears began to glisten in his deep brown eyes. “I didn’t expect that. She cursed at me in the ugliest whisper I have ever heard. She said she hated me and couldn’t believe that I thought she wanted to see me.”

  Miranda furrowed her brows desperately trying to understand. “What happened next?”

  “She had her butcher knife in her hand and she pointed it at me. I’ve never seen anyone so furious.” He gulped and wiped the streaming tears from his eyes with one hand. “I’m not sure what happened next. It’s a blur.”

  “But you appeared at the dining room table like nothing had happened.”

  “I was in shock. I couldn’t rationalize the bitter woman who confronted me with what I thought was my loving mother.” He shook his head in a quick motion. “Never mind that. I need that photograph.” He stepped towards Miranda.

  “Look.” she could hear the quiver in her voice. “You don’t want to make this worse. You say it was an accident. That’s your chance to make things right.”

  He halted and moved a half step backward. “Things can’t be right. I have killed my mother. Things can never be right. Ever.” He stepped forward again.

  “Stay away!” Miranda shouted. “Get back.”

  “Give me that photograph.”

  He reached for it but Miranda scurried to the other side of the bush. She was very close to the edge of the cliff.

  Joe sighed. “You know you can’t get by. Hand me the photograph.”

  “And then you’ll push me over.” Miranda moved back another step and bumped into a bolder that prevented her from getting back onto the trail. “How do you know this is the only photograph? My uncle saved everything. The negatives are probably in the attic.”

  “After I clean up this little mess, I’m going to burn the farmhouse down. That fixes everything.”

  “You would do that? Burn it down?”

  “I’m sure that more evidence is there that you haven’t found. I almost succeeded with the kitchen fire. I just have no choice.”

  “Oh yes you do!” yelled Austin as he lunged for the gun in Joe’s hand.

  A shot rang out. At such close quarters, it deafened Miranda. She saw the men struggling in extreme slow motion. Joe twisted his gun arm out of Austin’s grasp and Miranda leaped over the bush and kicked Joe just behind his knee.

  As his leg buckled, Joe tumbled backward over the cliff with his hand still clenched in Austin’s shirt. Austin grabbed Joe around the waist. Before they slipped over the edge, Miranda grabbed Austin’s belt with both hands and pulled back with all her weight. She strained every muscle in her body to pull harder than she knew she could. Then Joe found a footing and they rebounded forward into her.

  They all lay there in the brush panting heavily. Miranda untangled herself, got on all fours, then crawled over to Austin. “Are you all right?”

  Austin rubbed a hand over his face, sat up and looked into Miranda’s eyes.

  “You saved me from going over.” He quickly gathered her into his arms.

  “You saved me from getting shot.” She buried her head in his chest. “We saved each other.”

  Chapter 36

  Sunday Afternoon, Miranda’s Farmhouse

  The fire in the stove was overheating the room, but there were still cold spots in the corners. Austin, Mrs. Hobb, Lily, Iris, Dan, Sheriff Larson, Coroner Larson, and Doris Ann had all stopped by after the largest funeral Wolfe County had seen in a decade. Mrs. Childers had been well respected and beloved. Miranda had invited everyone over for spiced layer cake and coffee.

  Sandy was begging for treats by sitting in front of each guest and tilting his head. The puppy eyes usually won over his chosen victim and Sandy would then move to his next quarry.

  Mrs. Hobb sat in the most comfortable rocker in the front room with a fork on an empty china plate in her hand. She wore a black crepe de chine dress that was probably older than her granddaughters. “What’s happened to Joe? I don’t want to lose track of him.”

  Sheriff Larson cleared his throat and looked at his wife. She smiled and tilted her head a fraction. “He’s in psychiatric evaluation over in Lexington. There’ll be charges, of course, and probably prison time, but I’m sure he’ll find a new career in counseling his fellow inmates.”

  There was a sad silence, then Mrs. Hobb spoke up. “That cake was as good as I ever tasted. Whose recipe did you use?”

  Miranda grinned from ear to ear. “That’s my version of both my grandmother’s and her sister’s recipe. It was always served at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Mom never had the patience for it.”

  Austin downed the last of his coffee and stood stiffly, releasing a small groan. “When do you have time?”

  “I get my best ideas when I’m sipping shine in the swing on the front porch. That still is the most valuable thing I own, except for the farmhouse, of course—and the van—and Sandy.” She laughed.

  Austin limped into the dining room and returned to place another plate of spice cake in Mrs. Hobb’s hand. He transferred her fork and then whisked away the empty plate. “I thought you might like to try another sample, just to make sure Miranda’s got the recipe just right.”

  “Young man, you need to give that gimpy leg a little rest. You want to get back to work, don’t you?”

  “I’m lucky that I only pulled a muscle and didn’t break my neck. I need to keep moving so it will loosen up. If I sit, it tightens up.” He looked over at Miranda. “I still can’t believe you got away with only a few scratches.”

  “Hey, they were deep scratches!”

  “Not even stitches. Lucky.” He hobbled towards the kitchen with the empty plate.

  Mrs. Hobb looked at Miranda with a twinkle in her eye. “I have a feeling you’re gonna get a chance to get a lot of things just right.”

  “I feel very lucky that things have turned out so well. I had ten clients yesterday. Both Lily and Iris are working out very well in the kitchen. With your health issues, it might be wise to let them continue while you recover.”

  Mrs. Hobb smiled around her next bite of spice cake. “Did you hear from that New York City girl that took off with her girlfriend’s money?”

  “I called Linda last night and she said that Kelly had returned to the hotel and they reckoned that her hormones were causing some emotional problems. She’s a few weeks pregnant and they weren’t prepared for the emotional roller-coaster of a first-term pregnancy.”

  “So, that’s why they were moving. They need more room for the baby.”

  “And everything that a baby needs—an actual kitchen, an actual bedroom, an actual backyard, and also good schools.” Miranda smiled. “They’re on their way back to New York with my grandmother’s rug as the decorating inspiration for their new place.”

  Sheriff Larson came up to Miranda. “I’m not sure how this will play out, but I want you to know that Felicia and I will go to bat for you with the Lexington Police. It’s doubly unfortunate that the photograph went over the cliff.”

  “They sure are taking an odd stance with this case.” Miranda motioned for Sheriff Larson to join her on the couch. “Please sit, my neck is a bit sore.”

  “I heard about your acrobatics out there on Lover’s Leap. What made you think you could save Austin?”

  “That’s the trick. I didn’t think at all. I just dove for his belt and hoped that our combined weight would keep him from going over the edge. It worked.
Although I have a new respect for those acrobats you see in those circus acts on television.”

  Miranda looked through the crowd for Sandy. He had been a popular snuggle bunny for everyone. “Has anyone seen Sandy? Who’s got Sandy?”

  No one could see him. One of the Hobb sisters said she saw him a few minutes earlier slipping out the back porch. She thought he was just going out to do his business.

  Miranda went out the back-porch door. No sign of Sandy. She yelled his name and all she heard in return was the echo of her call rolling off the distant hills. Her next stop was the big tobacco barn—hopefully soon to be the site of her fledgling distillery. Sandy seemed to end up in there anytime he was off leash.

  There was no sign of him this time. She continued to call.

  She went around to the front of the house and resumed calling. After the echo died, silence.

  Where could he be?

  She was about to ask her guests to start a search when she heard a sharp yip coming from behind the barn. She sprinted around the back and there was Sandy, struggling up the field. He was dragging something by fits and starts through the dried-up stubble of the harvested tobacco stalks.

  When she reached him, he was completely focused on the scrap and wouldn’t let Miranda have a look at it. He kept turning his head this way and that and hopping around her in what he thought was the best game of keep-away he had ever known.

  “Sandy! Give that up, now.” Her stern voice caused Sandy to immediately sit and he dropped the scrap at her feet. He looked like he had been caught stealing and would suffer a horrible punishment.

  Miranda’s heart melted. She made him sit another few seconds, then began shaking her index finger at him. “You scared me to death. You must never go down into the woods behind the barn. It’s not safe for puppies.”

  She bent down and looked at the scrap that Sandy had dragged back from his adventure. It was a bit of calico feed sack that Miranda remembered being used for kitchen towels a long time ago. It was a very long time ago. An idea appeared.