“It’s not that bad.” Felicity explained she’d been intending to offer condolences to Sasha’s family. “But I got sidetracked, sort of.”
“Sort of, I’m sure.”
“Her dad lives not far from here. It’s getting late, but if you can check on the sheep for me, I can swing by his place on my way back.”
“Sheep, huh?”
“You can handle three sheep, can’t you?”
Twenty minutes later, Felicity pulled up in front of a small white farmhouse set back from one corner at River Bend Junction, which was little more than a few houses at a crossroads. She knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting. A man in his fifties, his eyes still bearing the shock that must have hit him when he first learned about his daughter’s death, held open the door and stood facing her. She introduced herself, but when he made no response, she wondered if he’d heard her. She began to explain further but he interrupted her.
“Yes, I know who you are.” Mr. Glover stared at her a moment longer. “Chief Algren came out to tell me. They found my girl on your land.”
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.” Felicity spoke slowly, touched by how hard he was struggling to hold himself together.
She was about to offer to return at a later time when he stepped back and invited her into the small, neat farmhouse. He led the way into a sitting room and turned in the middle of the floor to face her. “I was just sorting through some pictures. Would you like to see them?” Without waiting for an answer, he walked into the dining room, where a number of photographs in different sizes were laid out on the table. “For the viewing. I thought they’d be nice, see her how she was.” He picked one up and handed it to her, and after she admired it and replaced it, he handed her another. They walked around the table, passing photographs back and forth of Sasha at various ages.
“This looks like Clarissa Jenkins,” Felicity said, holding up one picture. Mr. Glover leaned closer.
“Yeah. That’s her.”
“I heard she’d just gotten engaged, before her car accident.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I think Sasha mentioned that, but I never met him.”
“Did Sasha?”
He tipped his head to one side to think, pulling down his mouth. “She never mentioned it. They used to see each other all the time. Clarissa’s death hit her hard. They were close.” He gave himself a shake, as if to remind himself to keep his feelings in hand. “That’s her with her brother.” He held out a recent photograph showing Sasha and a young man in a racing outfit standing next to his bicycle. “I can’t imagine why she would be in your woods. She never cared about outdoorsy things. Not at all like her brother.” He peered at her, an apologetic smile trying to form around his mouth.
“Does your son live around here?”
“He lives out west. He loves it out there. Sasha visited him and he took her hiking and camping. She said it was okay but nothing more. Her boyfriend, Kyle Morgan, likes to get outdoors, but he’s more into scavenging. He goes out with a metal detector on the weekends and vacations and looks for old stuff in cellar holes, that sort of thing.”
“Does he ever find much?”
Mr. Glover might have laughed if he hadn’t been so overwhelmed with grief. He shuffled together a stack of photos and slid them into a box. “He’s always chasing easy money. He goes out looking for stuff to turn over for a fast buck. There’s nothing in it, but it keeps him occupied.”
“Like buried treasure?”
His sharp glance told her she was right. “So you’ve heard about that?” He rearranged another stack. “I think I’ll just use those.” He nodded to a slew of perhaps ten photos lying along the edge of the table. Felicity agreed they were attractive and showed Sasha at happy times in her life. “Let’s sit down.” Mr. Glover waved his arm toward the living room, and Felicity crossed the narrow hall with him. He sat and threw himself back in his chair, gripping the arms. “Fool. Her boyfriend, I mean. She told me she was fed up with him.”
“Did it have to do with the idea of buried treasure?”
Mr. Glover gave a harsh laugh. “She was disgusted with all that. He was sure he was onto some so-called buried treasure. I kept telling him this was nonsense, but he didn’t listen to me.” He bolted forward. “You find an old letter in the attic. One person picks it up and thinks, Wow! You could send a letter for two cents back in the fifties. And then another notices how thick the paper is. And another reads the letter and thinks how different people sounded back then. But there’s always one who looks at the stamp and thinks, Hey, this might be worth something to a collector. That’s Kyle. Always looking for how to cash in without doing any work. That wasn’t Sasha. She dated him a long time back in high school, but you know how it is. She grew up and he didn’t. She hadn’t broken it off with him, but I know she got sick of him. Told me so. She was getting ready to tell him their relationship was over.” His grief flooded in again, held at bay for barely a minute by his indignation.
“Did any of this treasure business have anything to do with Ezekial Bodrun?” Felicity didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it was hard not to see this tale of Kyle’s hunt for buried treasure along with the map she’d found in Sasha’s apartment as a distortion of old family lore.
“Zeke Bodrun?” Mr. Glover stuck out his chin and moved it as though chewing. “He had that cabin and that bit of land. Had another piece. He was always about land.”
“Did you know him?”
“Only when I was a kid,” he said, shaking his head. “He was quite a character in his last years.”
“What happened with his land?”
Mr. Glover shook his head. “He didn’t pay his taxes regularly so maybe the town took it after he died.”
That sounded too pat, but Felicity knew she could find out. “When we passed his cabin recently, it was in good repair,” she said. “Looked like someone was living in it.”
“There might be some cousins around who took it over.”
“Do you know who his heir was?”
“My wife, ex-wife I should say, never mentioned a will or anything. Zeke outlived his wife, but he left a piece of land to his granddaughter Clarissa. Helena told me about it. He was very fond of Clarissa.” Mr. Glover’s voice softened, and he seemed soothed by the warm memories. “She used to take meals out to the cabin even though he said he didn’t want anyone to bother him. She was just a kid. She liked taking in strays even then. He was an old man and she was a teenager. Took him an old dog that no one else wanted, and that was the beginning of it. After that she’d go out and check on the dog, make sure it had food and all, and then she started taking casseroles for him.” He paused to remember.
“That’s not what you’d expect to hear about Zeke Bodrun, from what I know of his reputation.” Felicity brushed her hand along the soft velveteen fabric of the sofa.
“You can’t go by gossip.” Mr. Glover stood and walked over to the fireplace, straightening a silver frame on the mantel. “Few people really know anyone else, but Clarissa knew her granddad. He adored her, Helena said. Trusted her too.”
“She’s the one he left land to?” Felicity asked, and he nodded in reply.
“He was a cranky old guy, and secretive, as if he had anything to be secretive about. Helena and her mother knew one side of him, and Clarissa knew another. Guess that’s why he gave her that piece of land. She said it was only good for a wood lot and since she didn’t heat with wood she had no use for it. She gave it to Sasha a few years ago, as soon as my girl was of age, maybe eighteen or twenty. I don’t recall exactly.”
Felicity listened to this tale unfold with increasing uneasiness. “Zeke Bodrun gave his granddaughter a wood lot and she gave it to Sasha?”
“When Sasha told me and was actually excited about it, I was very happy. Surprised but happy. I was hoping it would get my daughter more interested in life out here.”
“Maybe persuade her to stay around after her career got going?”
Mr. Glover looked at her over his shoulder. “Too obvious? Course, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Did you ever visit the wood lot with her?”
“I wish I had, but I never did.”
“Where did she say it was? Do you recall?”
He smiled and shook his head, keeping one hand on the mantel to steady himself. “She tried to tell me but she couldn’t be sure of the names of the old roads. I had to laugh. She kept saying, it’s on this road. No, maybe that one. I only remember her telling me you could see Wisp Hill from there, and she had to find the entrance through an old stone wall off Old Town Road.”
“Are you sure she said Wisp Hill?”
“You okay?” Mr. Glover asked. “You look kinda pale. Yes, that’s what she said.”
“I have an idea where this wood lot might be.” Felicity paused to think. She had a very good idea where that wood lot had to be, and she knew exactly where Wisp Hill was—at the northernmost point of her property. If Sasha wanted to get to her wood lot without using the abutting road, she would have to walk through Felicity’s property, and the best approach would be from the road leading to the old cabin.
“Now that Sasha’s gone, who owns that land?” Felicity asked. “Did she leave a will?”
“A will? She wasn’t even thirty years old. Who has a will at that age?” Mr. Glover rubbed his hand down his face, his two-day-old beard still dark brown like his hair. His brown eyes would probably shine if he weren’t so sad. He returned to his chair, easing himself into it.
“If she has no will, does her property go to you?” Felicity didn’t want to think about a piece of land floating around with no definitive owner, certainly not with strangers looking to buy land at outrageous prices and others searching for treasure. She knew Old Zeke’s reputation, in her family stories at least, and his love for plots of land that looked to be useless. Some of them certainly were, but it seemed he’d considered the land he gave to Clarissa special.
“Me or her mother. Don’t know which. And if something happens to us, then to her brother.” He leaned sideways in his chair, stretching as if to relieve the pain.
“I think I’ve tired you out.” Felicity rose. Again she offered her condolences.
“It’s good that you came.” Mr. Glover pushed himself out of the chair. “I’m glad to have a chance to talk about her. I didn’t want to call Sasha’s mother. We haven’t talked much since the divorce.” He took a moment to straighten up. “I’ve been alone and angry since I heard. But I needed to talk about her, get my bearings again. She had so much to offer the world. She was the light of my life.” He walked Felicity to the door. “I’ll let you know when the service is. Perhaps you’ll come.”
She assured him she would.
“We’re combining the services—Clarissa and Sasha. It seems right. They were close.”
And it will be easier on the family, Felicity thought. But still painful.
She turned the key in the ignition and listened to the engine rumble to life. It sounded like the way her brain felt—a jumble of noise firing and spitting energy. By the time she reached the old highway and turned toward West Woodbury, she was resigned to a morning spent under the pickup in her future. When she turned into her driveway, she wasn’t surprised to see Jeremy’s truck. But she was surprised to see Chief Kevin Algren’s car right behind it. She drove around both and parked near the barn.
Entering through the kitchen, Felicity could hear the men chatting in the living room, but not what they were talking about. She walked into the front room. The chief was nearly hidden in her dad’s oversized green recliner, his hands splayed on the upholstered arms. Jeremy stretched out on the sofa. A fire burned in the fireplace. It wasn’t enough to heat the room but offered a pleasant warmth to those seated nearby.
“You guys look comfortable,” she said, quickly adding, “Don’t get up.”
Kevin ignored her, as she guessed he would, and followed her back into the kitchen. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d get home. Got a minute?”
“Of course.” Felicity picked up the cat’s water bowl and filled it from the tap and then added kibble to the cat’s dish. Miss Anthropy watched from her chair under the window but didn’t get up. Shadow, after greeting her energetically, returned to watching the cat from the far corner of the room. “You must have learned something.”
“I’ve learned I need a more formal statement about Sasha Glover’s death, so you need to come in, maybe tomorrow morning or afternoon. Can you do that?”
“Sure. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“You’re right. Okay, Monday.”
“Something’s happened. I can tell.”
“You can always tell.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just tired is all.”
“So why did you come by tonight?”
“To tell you to come in and make a statement.”
“You could have done that over the phone.”
The chief stretched his arm across the table and slouched deeper in his chair. Felicity pulled out a chair and sat opposite him, thinking about the uneven color around his chin and cheeks and forehead. At the moment he had a white forehead and bright red cheeks and chin.
“Okay. In very simple terms, Sasha Glover died of acute intoxication of ethylene glycol,” Kevin began. “That’s the chemical used in antifreeze, the kind you worry about your pets getting into.”
“Antifreeze?”
He nodded. “She had vomit residue in her mouth, and plenty of antifreeze in her system.”
Felicity swore softly. “So that rules out suicide.”
“No speculating, Felicity.”
“Is a detective from the state police taking over? What does this mean for you?”
“Detective Rendell would be the one. And he’ll let me know if he wants me to do anything, and how and when.” Kevin’s color changed, his cheeks reddening even more. “He’s running the show.”
“Did he say anything else?”
The chief shifted in his chair. It creaked. That and a log breaking in half in the fireplace were the only sounds in the house. “They’re checking out some other chemicals in her blood samples.”
“So, more than antifreeze killed her?”
“We don’t know yet. It’s too soon to tell, but I got friends over there and they let me know what they’re finding. They’re not done yet. It’s all preliminary.”
“You look sick, Kevin.”
“I feel sick. Sasha was barely twenty-four.” He spoke softly now, the way he always did when he spoke about a life ended. “It seems she was drugged and given plenty of antifreeze, enough to kill her. It tastes real sweet, and she wouldn’t have noticed it in something sugary like a soft drink.”
“So she might not have noticed right away?”
Kevin nodded. “Maybe she ran off and vomited, but it was too late. That’s all speculation.” He shut his eyes. “It looks like she was out there for at least a day, alone.”
Dying alone, Felicity added to herself. “That makes sense. She came to the farm on Tuesday morning, and we found her Wednesday afternoon. And I heard she didn’t show up for work on Tuesday. The whole thing is pretty awful.” She paused. “Does anyone have any idea why she was on my property?”
“Do you?”
“Well, sort of, but it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Try me.” Kevin’s tone told her he meant business. “You went to see Mr. Glover, Sasha’s father.”
“Jeremy told you that?”
“I would have learned about it anyway.”
Felicity wondered why Kevin seemed unable to get comfortable. He shifted in his chair and slid his black shoes across the floor.
“Where I fou
nd her was not far from Wisp Hill, which she used as a landmark to tell her dad where her property was. She had a wood lot that Clarissa gave her, and if it’s where I think it is, Sasha could reach it by walking from that old cabin through my land. She could get there without going in by the old road.” Felicity paused, expecting Kevin to ask a question, but he remained still, watchful. “If you’re right about the drugs and the antifreeze, then Sasha must have been poisoned not long after her visit to my farm.”
“Mr. Glover called the police on Tuesday when his daughter didn’t show up for work, but it was too early to file a missing person’s report.”
“You’re very unsettled today, Kevin. There’s something even more, isn’t there?”
Kevin leaned back. “Rendell is letting me take care of telling the father this.”
“Nice of him.”
“Don’t go getting on the wrong side of him, Felicity. He’s a state police detective and what he says goes.”
“Sasha’s dad is heartbroken. He’s still in shock. I’m sorry you’re the one who has to tell him. What about her mother?”
“We’ll go out there too.” Kevin let his attention drift around the room.
Shadow had inched his way closer to Felicity and she reached down and began to pet him. He sprawled on the floor, content. “If it hadn’t been for this guy, we might not have found her.”
“Detective Rendell is in charge of this, Felicity, but if you know anything or find out anything, you can tell me. I know you’re not as easy with everyone, so you tell me and I’ll tell Rendell.” Kevin stood up. “I sure want to know who did this to Sasha. Antifreeze poisoning isn’t pleasant. It’s cruel.” He grabbed his belt and gave it a tug.
“Are you losing weight?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked around for his hat and headed back to the front room to get it. “You cooking?” he said to Jeremy.
“Seems so.” Jeremy stood and the two men shook hands.
“Don’t let her get any wild ideas.” Kevin waved his hand above his head as he went out the front door, not bothering to turn around and look at either one of them.
Below the Tree Line Page 10
