While Andrew protested, I got into my SUV. For a moment, I was afraid he might throw himself in front of my vehicle. Mercifully, he did not.
As I pulled away, Dean shouted, “Text me when you leave!”
While touched by their concern, I felt unnerved by it. Was Leticia a danger? There was no doubt she had been at one time. But how long ago? And under what circumstances? I told myself that I’d already been face-to-face with more than one killer and lived to tell the tale. I could handle one quick visit to Leticia the Lake Lady.
On the way there, I listened to a Native American flute music CD I’d bought at Denise’s gallery. By the time I drove the thirty minutes to Leticia’s property, I felt like I’d sat through a relaxing meditation session. The drive took me almost to the border of Oriole County. Given the mix of farms and woodland, traffic was light. The rain had stopped and the sun made attempts to break through the clouds. I took that as a good sign.
After a glance at the GPS on my phone, I slowed down and turned onto a small graveled road. After a minute, the trees lining the road stopped and I found myself in a clearing. An attractive log home stood at the end of the drive. My arrival startled an enormous flock of wild turkeys pecking on the ground. As their gobbles pierced the air, they headed for the trees.
I braked to a stop and rolled down the window. I heard nothing but turkeys and meows. I spotted several dozen cats and assorted kittens between here and the front porch. My heart sank.
These cats must be constantly reproducing. My aunt ran a rescue organization called Humane Hearts, and I knew how heartbreaking the lives of feral cats were. With luck, I could convince Leticia to let my aunt and her volunteers trap the animals in order to spay and neuter them.
I got out of the vehicle. Trees stood off in the distance with a wide field in between; some of it held wooden beehives. The property looked well cared for. Flower bushes clipped, front lawn mowed. As for her house, it qualified as a custom-built log home. Several friends owned log homes, and I recognized this one as built in the traditional Hearthstone design.
Now that I saw how she lived, I felt better. I expected her residence to be as neglected as her physical appearance. But Leticia lived in a lovely single-story house with bronze and gold mums planted out front. Although there were far too many cats and turkeys running about.
I walked up the steps to her front porch and knocked on the door. No response.
Although I peeked in her front window, I couldn’t see through the plaid curtains. Next, I called her phone. If she were nearby or in the house, I might be able to hear the ringtone. I heard nothing but the turkeys restive in the trees and the angry yowls of the cats who glared at me below the porch.
Maybe I should look for her scooter. If it wasn’t here, neither was she.
I checked out a small shed behind the house that held garden tools. Since she had no garage or barn, I suspected it sheltered her scooter when there was bad weather. But her purple motor scooter wasn’t in the shed, nor was it anywhere to be seen. A number of plastic dishes did ring the wooden shed, each filled with the remains of cat kibble. Three large water bowls sat on the grassy path. I spotted two cats peering out at me from beneath the leaves of a dying hosta.
I felt relieved she was gone. All I had to do now was unload the boxes and be on my way.
In case it rained again, I placed all the boxes on her covered front porch. After I put the last box below her front window, I took out my phone and called her again. No answer. As I waited to leave a voicemail, I recalled Felix Bonaventure’s visit to my shop. Was he a threat to Leticia? Was she right to be afraid? I decided to give her a heads up.
“Leticia, this is Marlee Jacob again,” I said after the phone beeped. “I’ve left the mulberries on your front porch. I also thought you should know a man called Felix Bonaventure is in town looking for Ellen Mulberry. I don’t know if you’re the woman he’s asking about, but the name ‘Mulberry’ made me think of you.” I pulled his business card out of my jeans pocket. “I’ll give you his phone number in case you want to contact him.”
After I hung up, I wondered if this would make her even more fearful. But if Bonaventure was the person she believed wanted to kill her, she should be warned.
One of the cats went up to the front door and scratched at it with a long, piteous meow. “Do you want to go inside?” I asked.
The gray cat looked at me and meowed again. Maybe all the cats weren’t feral. I stepped closer and it didn’t move away. Did the cat live in the house? Another cat joined us. A sleek tortoiseshell with huge brown eyes. This one, too, stretched against the door.
“I think it’s locked,” I told them. Although I didn’t know that.
I gripped the doorknob and turned. The door opened and the two cats ran inside. I poked my head in. “Hello?”
Although most Oriole Point residents left their doors unlocked, I would not have thought the misanthropic Leticia would be among them. I looked about. The living room was neatly furnished with a rocker, sofa, wooden coffee table, and brass floor lamps. Shelves crammed with books bordered a flagstone fireplace. My eyes widened at the big-screen TV.
At the risk of being caught as a trespasser, I went over to the TV and saw the satellite TV box. Why had I assumed Leticia lived like a survivalist or the Unabomber? I scanned her bookshelves, intrigued by the eclectic mix of titles—everything from Lee Child to Joseph Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey. The blue-and-white kitchen was visible from the living room.
Another cat darted inside, scooting past me as it ran into a hallway I assumed led to the bedrooms. I had no business being in Leticia’s house uninvited, even if I was trying to help her cats. I also hoped she allowed the cats in here, otherwise she might be upset to find three felines inside. I’d leave her another voicemail, explaining that I had opened the door for them.
I suddenly remembered the money in my bag. Leticia paid me too much for the mulberries on Saturday, and I’d brought her the change in an envelope. I scribbled a note on the envelope and left it on the coffee table. I hoped she didn’t mind that I had rudely entered her house. At this rate, I’d be hacking into the computers at the police station next.
When I turned to go, my gaze fell on an Apple laptop that sat on a desk by the door.
At that moment, the cats ran back into the living room, chasing each other. One leaped on top of the couch, then jumped onto the adjacent desk. The cat hurled itself off as the other cat raced behind. This flurry of activity caused the stack of papers beside the computer to be dislodged. Several pages fluttered to the hardwood floor.
I picked them up and put them back on the pile. As I straightened the stack, my eyes fell on the top page. It looked like a title page and read, Mischief and Murder by Ellen Mulberry.
More confused than ever, I stepped back. According to the police file, she was a murderer. Was Leticia a writer as well? Who was Felix Bonaventure? And who were the shadow people she mentioned? The most pressing question, however, was what was I doing in her house? After all, I’d done what I promised and delivered the mulberries.
Best to leave any murder or mischief to her.
Chapter Five
What I had learned about Leticia troubled me, but the monthly outing of the Lakeshore Birders was scheduled for the following morning. I loved birds and never missed a chance to tramp along the shore or through the woods with my binoculars. So I put aside questions about Leticia’s murderous past and looked forward to the search for golden eagles and horned larks.
I rose earlier than usual, threw granola bars in my backpack, and went to meet my two favorite birdwatchers: Kit Holt and Theo Foster. Theo arrived at The Berry Basket before four every morning to bake the daily selection of berry pastries, so it was no surprise to see him waiting impatiently for me at the shop door. And I was impatient to sample the snacks he’d brought for us: warm-from-the-oven raspberry crumb bars.
Because Kit lived in New Bethel, he agreed to meet us in the parking lot of Bell Lake S
tate Park. He’d only been gone since Friday, but when I caught sight of his curly brown hair and crooked smile, I literally felt my heart skip a beat.
His tight embrace and lingering kiss told me the feeling was mutual. I reminded myself to take the relationship slow. It was why I didn’t accept Kit’s invitation to attend his brother’s wedding in Texas. We’d only been dating two months, not long enough for me to feel comfortable accompanying him to an out-of-state family wedding. Especially since I had recently canceled my own wedding.
This past August, my engagement to Ryan Zellar ended in betrayal and shock. Part of me was still reeling. I mistrusted my romantic instincts now, even with someone as sweet and caring as Kit. He’d been burned in love before, too, and understood my caution. Still, the attraction between us continued to deepen.
“Are you two done?” Theo asked. “Everyone’s watching.”
We broke apart with an embarrassed laugh. The other birders waited near the park’s trail map sign. The group’s president waved us over.
Kit took my hand as we walked toward them. “I missed you.”
“Missed you, too. You looked like James Bond in the wedding photos you sent. Sexy and dangerous. More secret agent than best man.”
“Exactly the look I was going for. Too bad my brother wouldn’t let me wear my gun holster with the tux.”
“If you’re not quiet, you’ll scare away the birds,” Theo warned.
“Shhh,” Kit told me, then pulled me close for another kiss.
Once we joined our fellow birders, everything got a lot louder.
We were a friendly group, and birdwatchers are always bursting with tales of the latest addition to their “list.” Last week I’d added a sedge wren to my life list of birds and couldn’t wait to tell everyone. Kit announced that two days ago in Texas, he’d seen a yellow-billed cuckoo in a willow grove. We were all suitably impressed. I was again gratified to be dating a man who had been a birder years before he met me. If that wasn’t kismet, what was?
“It’s seven o’clock,” Theo reminded us. “We should start.”
A flurry of activity followed as we removed lens caps from our binoculars and patted the pockets of our jackets to make certain our field guides were with us. Bending down, I tucked my jeans into my socks. I didn’t want ticks crawling up my legs while a white-eye vireo diverted my attention. Four of our members had contracted Lyme disease. I did not plan to follow suit.
Jenna York, president of Lakeshore Birders, held up her hand. “Keep an eye out for American kestrels. They’ve been seen this week in the park. And a flock of turkey vultures over a thousand strong.”
Theo turned to me with a rare smile. “Turkey vultures,” he said in a hushed voice.
I was happy that he was so happy. I regarded Theo like a kid brother, even if he was older than me. Kit and Theo were both thirty-seven, but Theo’s slim frame and nervous, tentative nature made him seem much younger. I had learned his sometimes childlike responses were a result of a head injury suffered when he was a toddler. And although he had excellent baking skills, his social skills needed honing. I had hired him almost a year ago, and it had taken months before he felt comfortable around me and his fellow Berry Basket employees.
Theo had recently included Kit in the tiny circle of people he trusted—something Theo never did with my ex-fiancé. Proving his instincts about men were better than mine.
Once we entered the woods, conversation faded as we listened for the chirps and calls echoing around us. One never knew if this was the day to encounter a rare shorebird or brown birds we called LBJs, otherwise known as little brown jobs difficult to identify. Bell Lake State Park held a second-growth oak-hickory forest, stretches of prairie, and an inland lake. These varied habitats made it a favorite spot for birders. Within the first thirty minutes, Kit and I spotted a Cooper’s hawk, three hooded warblers, and a broad-winged hawk. Theo, however, was on a mission to find the turkey vultures.
As always happened on these outings, members began to wander off on their own. Theo remained with Kit and me, although he disapproved of our quiet conversation and stayed a good distance ahead.
We kept our voices down, but between his brother’s wedding, the celebrity-laden health fair, and that yellow-billed cuckoo, we had a lot to talk about. I didn’t even mention Leticia the Lake Lady for a good thirty minutes. When I finally told him about her request for mulberries and Dean’s discovery about her past, I was met by a long silence.
A thrush landed on an overhead branch. I focused my binoculars on the gray bird. Only after it flew away, did I turn to Kit.
“You look puzzled,” I said.
“I am. I thought the Lake Lady never spoke to anyone. Why did she approach you?”
“I told you. She thinks someone is trying to kill her.”
“And you went to her house alone? After you learned she had been in prison for murder?” His expression shifted to one of concern. “Not a good idea.”
“I promised to deliver the dried mulberries. And she didn’t want strangers coming to her house. Only me.”
“I don’t care what she wants. I only care that you don’t put yourself in a dicey situation.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve had a few close calls this past summer. I think you’ve met your quota for the year. Leave Leticia and her mulberries alone.”
“I’ve done what she asked. Only I can’t help but be curious.” I lifted my binoculars and aimed them at a pair of blue jays. “What if she really is in danger? Seems fishy that some man shows up looking for a woman called Ellen Mulberry. Then I find a manuscript in her house written by an ‘Ellen Mulberry.’ With the title Mischief and Murder, too. You work for the sheriff’s department. Don’t you find it suspicious? And worrying?”
“I do. If Leticia comes to you with another request, call me. As for Mr. Bonaventure, I’ll see what I can find out about him. Are you sure that’s his name?”
“I’d hardly forget it. He told me how both his first and last name meant ‘good luck.’”
“What did he look like?”
“Brown hair, receding hairline. Big dark eyes. About five ten, five eleven. Thin. Long, bumpy nose. He reminded me of Fredo in The Godfather.” As someone named after a literary character, I often associated people with their fictional doppelgänger.
He chuckled. “A police sketch artist would love you.” As a distinctive call rent the air, Kit turned his binoculars in the direction it came from. “Pileated woodpecker. Female, I think.”
After a moment, I spotted the bird. “You’re right. That’s a female.” I lowered my binoculars. “Kit, you live in New Bethel. As it’s even smaller than Oriole Point, you must know most of the residents. Leticia lives on the outskirts of New Bethel.”
“Remember I only moved here a few years ago. I rented an apartment in New Bethel because a friend in the department owned the building and gave me a deal on the rent. Most of my time is spent at work, or hanging out with Greg and my sister. Although you take up most of my free time now.” He leaned over and kissed me. “I couldn’t tell you much about anyone who lives in New Bethel.”
“Leticia has long orange hair and drives a purple scooter. She’d be hard to miss.”
He looked surprised. “Is that the Lake Lady? I see her scooter parked outside the New Bethel post office sometimes.”
“That’s her.”
“Well, she hasn’t done anything to attract the attention of the sheriff’s department . . . yet. I advise staying clear of her. Bad enough you broke into her house.” He raised an amused eyebrow at me. “Please don’t do it again. I’d hate to arrest you.”
“I didn’t technically break in. The door was unlocked. I was only trying to help her cats get inside.” I sighed. “I do feel guilty about walking into her living room. Only I was so surprised to see how nice everything was. She had satellite TV. A laptop, too. The desk and manuscript were by the door. I couldn’t help seeing it.”
We walked along the trail for a few minutes, sca
nning the trees with our binoculars.
“Did you hear anything when you were inside her house?” Kit asked finally. “Someone moaning, perhaps? Leticia may have been in one of the bedrooms, sick or injured.”
“I didn’t hear a sound, except for the cats. And I never went anywhere near the bedrooms.” I bit my lip. “I did call her phone. I think I said ‘hello’ when I went inside. I don’t remember. I guess she could have been in the house. But her scooter wasn’t on the property. I assumed if her scooter was gone, she must be, too.”
“Maybe.” He now wore what I had come to learn was his sheriff investigator’s expression. “Give me the address. I’ll stop by her house on the way back to New Bethel today. Have a look around.”
“I should go, too. Leticia came to me for help, so I’m part of this case.”
He looked amused. “There’s a case?”
“There might be. If so, it involves Leticia, Felix Bonaventure.” I paused. “And me.”
* * *
“Turkey vultures are my new favorite bird.” Theo closed his spiral notebook. He’d spent the past few minutes recording the birds he had identified that morning. Despite the impressive number of birds he’d seen, he’d talked about little else but the turkey vultures since we left the park. “How can I get turkey vultures to come to my feeders?”
“Leave dead animals on the grass.”
“What!”
I put my turn signal on as I approached the next cross street. “They’re vultures, Theo. Vultures eat carrion. Your feeders filled with millet and sunflower seed won’t interest them.”
I almost added “thank God,” but didn’t want to diminish Theo’s newfound joy in turkey vultures. The huge flock of vultures we saw at the park made an impression on me as well. Especially their unpleasant appearance.
“That’s too bad.” He pulled out a raspberry crumb bar from the paper bag in his backpack. “I have one more crumb bar left. I’ll split it with you.”
“No thanks. I ate two at the park. And a granola bar. I’m good.” I checked my rearview mirror to make certain the green Camry was behind us. “Kit really enjoyed them. He ate four.”
Mulberry Mischief Page 5
