by Jessica Beck
"Go on," the sheriff said. "You’ve got thirty seconds left."
"We’re going to need more time than that," I said.
"You’ve got what you need, but make it dance."
I decided to increase my pace. "Next up, there’s Penny Rusk. She and Wally had a bad breakup, no matter how much she’s claiming that’s not true now. Dave Evans had a fight with Wally about the bad produce he was providing him for the grocery store, and Dave took it much more personally than we did. It’s true that it appears that Jan Bain didn’t show up here until after the murder, but we can’t prove that one way or the other."
"Is there anybody else on your list?" the sheriff asked. At first I thought he’d been doodling on his desk pad, but then I saw that he’d written down the names I’d given him, along with his own brief descriptions of our motives.
At least that proved that he was listening.
"Sally Ketchum admitted to arguing with Wally all the time, and she’s interested in buying his farm now that he’s gone. Maybe she got tired of hearing him say no to her offers over the years, and she decided that Jan might be easier to work with."
"That’s kind of out there," the sheriff said. "Anybody else?"
"No, sir," Moose said. "That’s all we’ve been able to come up with."
"You’ve left a few names off your list," the sheriff said as he tapped his notes with his pencil.
I tried not to react to his comment. "Can you share any other people in particular? If you’re implying that anyone in my family killed him, you’re dead wrong, I can tell you that right now."
"What about Abel Link?" the sheriff asked.
"Why would Abel kill Wally Bain?" Moose asked.
"Who knows? The man’s as crazy as a bedbug. Maybe he didn’t like Wally using pesticides on his place. For that matter, why would he burn the place down?"
"We don’t know that he did," I said, feeling bad for naming Abel as a possible arsonist earlier. "By the way, did you ever find him?"
"Of course we didn’t," the sheriff said. "He’s probably got a dozen places prepped to hide in those woods. We tried to get some dogs from Raleigh to track his scent, but they’re busy on another case right now."
"I’m not even sure they’ll be able to help," Moose said. "The man really knows his survival skills."
"Too well, if you ask me," the sheriff said.
"Is there anyone left on your list?" I asked, honestly curious at that point.
"No, that’s it," the sheriff said as he pushed away from his desk. "You know, you two did a surprisingly thorough job."
"I’m guessing, based on what you’ve been saying, that you haven’t been able to eliminate any of them, either. Is that correct?" Moose asked him.
The sheriff thought about my grandfather’s question for a full ten seconds, and then he answered, "What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, do you both understand that?"
Moose and I both promised, and then the sheriff said, "As a matter of fact, at this point in my investigation, I don’t have a clue who killed Wally Bain. For all I could prove at this point, he fell on that pitchfork and killed himself."
"What if there was a way to smoke out the killer?" I asked. "Would you be interested?"
The sheriff put his hands behind his head. "That depends on what you have in mind."
"We want to lay a trap for the murderer, but we can’t do it without your help," I explained.
Was that a hint of interest in his eyes? "Go on. I’m still listening."
"Here’s what we’re thinking. First, we have to get the hospital to cooperate. We need them to tell anyone who calls that Ron is out of his coma, and that things are starting to come back to him about what happened earlier."
"Which event are we talking about, the murder or the accident with the toolbox?"
"We’ll leave that part open to interpretation," I suggested.
The sheriff frowned. "The problem is that I just spoke to the hospital, and Ron’s still in a coma. What’s to keep someone else from finding out as easily as I just did?"
"This is going to be a brand new development. Once we get things in place, here’s what we need to do," Moose explained. "We have them reserve a room for us that’s empty, and then we tell each of our suspects our story, including where they’ve moved Ron to. After that, we go to the hospital and see what happens."
"That plan is against so many rules and regulations that I can’t even count them all," the sheriff said. "Besides, it’s never going to work."
"Why not?" Moose asked him.
"We can’t contact Abel Link, since we don’t know where he’s hiding. What makes you think we’ll have any luck tracking the others down?"
"Leave it to us," I said. "Moose and I can handle that part of the plan. As a matter of fact, we have to be the ones who tell them."
"Why is that?" the sheriff asked.
"They all know that we’ve been nosing into this all along. If the information comes from us, they won’t suspect that it’s a trap. You’ve got to stay away from all of them, at least until we have a chance to set up the trap first."
"I don’t know," the sheriff said slowly.
"There’s something important that you need to remember, Sheriff. You’re going to be losing suspects, starting tomorrow," I said. "What makes you think that catching one of them is going to be any easier once they leave town?"
"I could always find a way to make them stay," Sheriff Croft said.
"It’s doubtful, at least not legally. We’re just asking you to bend a few rules, not break any. We know that it’s a long shot, but isn’t it at least worth a shot? You can have a deputy in the bed waiting for the attack, and we can stop it well before it even starts."
"No, that’s still too risky. We’ll use a CPR dummy. Those things can look freakishly real if we stage it right."
"So, you’re on board?" Moose asked him.
"Let me make a quick call. You two can wait outside."
I ushered Moose out, and we waited impatiently for the sheriff to call whoever he was going to check in with. Two minutes later his office door opened, and he motioned for us both to come back in.
"Here’s the deal. I just spoke with my connection at the hospital, and I’ve gotten them to agree, based on certain conditions. We’re going to pretend that Ron is in an area that’s currently closed for painting, so no patients should be at risk."
"How are we going to sell that?" I asked.
"I don’t care how you do it, but it’s a deal-breaker. Tell your suspects that he was moved for his own safety. They’ll probably buy that."
"Okay, what else?" Moose asked.
"I’m probably crazy for agreeing to do this, but that just shows how desperate I am. Just in case someone sees through this ruse, I’m going to have two men guarding Ron around the clock. I don’t want someone slipping in and killing him while we’re putting on our little play."
"That makes sense," I agreed. "So, should we go ahead and let them know what’s happening?"
"Hold your horses. I’m going to need at least an hour to set things up at the hospital." He looked at his watch, and then added, "Don’t do a thing until you hear from me first. Do you understand?"
Moose and I both agreed, and then we got out of there before the sheriff could change his mind. I fully realized that his agreement had much more to do with his own investigation’s lack of progress than the brilliance of our plan, but at least we were doing something proactive.
I just hoped that the killer would be desperate enough to act rashly and give himself away.
"Could someone please tell me why there are half a dozen people dressed in turkey costumes in my diner?" I asked Moose as we walked into The Charming Moose.
"Don’t ask me; I was with you, remember? Hey, they all have numbers on their backs," he said. Moose turned to his wife and asked, "Martha, did we miss something?"
"It’s the First Annual Turkey Trot And Run For Your Life Race," she said as she held a flyer
up for us to see. "You two didn’t get so wrapped up in this murder investigation that you forgot about it, did you?"
"But the race is in Laurel Landing," I said. "Why are they eating here?"
"It’s on their way to the race," she said.
I looked at their plates, each full of enough calories to float a battleship. "How are they going to run after eating all of that?"
"I asked them the same thing," Martha said with a smile. "It turns out there’s a serious race, and then there’s a Turkey Strut that goes for a half mile. The winner isn’t the first one who crosses the finish line, but the one who provides the best imitation of a turkey walking. You should see them do it. It’s hilarious, though Tammy Johnson’s son, Kyle, started crying when they all strutted in together in sync."
"That’s no great surprise. Kyle cries when it’s sunny outside," I said. "The boy can start sobbing at the drop of a hat."
"What have you two been up to?" Martha asked.
"We’re plotting something," Moose said as he winked at her.
"I’d be disappointed in you both if you weren’t," she answered. "So, are you back for good, or am I still on duty?"
"Would you mind finishing the shift? I’ve got a hunch that we’re going to be called away again soon."
"Take all the time you need," Martha said. "I forgot how entertaining it could be around here." She hesitated, and then added, "But don’t you go getting any ideas, Victoria. I’m retired, and I mean it."
"Yes, ma’am," I answered with a grin. "I’ve got it." I turned to my grandfather and asked, "Are you hungry? We have time to eat."
"I could go for a turkey sandwich," he said loudly, clearly trying to goad our new costumers.
It worked beyond his wildest expectations. The ‘turkeys’ all started gobbling at once, got up from their seats in unison, and started strutting wildly around the diner. After a full ten seconds, they returned to their seats and roosted, quieting down as they settled back in. Many of the diners burst into applause when they were finished, and there were some appreciative clucks from the bird imitators.
Greg had popped his head out the window at the first explosion of sound, and when we made eye contact, he winked at me and grinned. I blew him a kiss, and then I returned his smile in full.
"If you do that again, I’m going to wring your neck," I said softly as I turned back to my grandfather.
"Careful, or they might hear you," he said, shaking his head. I could see him trying to hide a smile, but it was clear enough to me that he was fighting massive amusement. "Message received. I’m guessing they aren’t big fans of neck-wringing."
Thirty minutes later, my cell phone rang, and I answered it before it had a chance to ring a second time.
"Sheriff?" I asked before I even looked at the Caller ID.
"That was fast," Sheriff Croft said. "We’re all set here."
"Did you have any problems?" I asked, amazed that he’d been able to accomplish something I wasn’t certain was possible.
"Let’s just say that I used up enough favors so that this better work," he said.
"What other choice do we have?" I asked.
"That’s a good point. I’m still not crazy about you and Moose putting yourself in harm’s way. If we’re right about our list of suspects, there’s a good chance that you’re going to be baiting a killer; you realize that, don’t you?"
"The way I see it, we’re both perfectly safe. After all, nobody’s going to take a chance trying to kill either one of us when they have to keep it a secret that they have a crucial interest in Ron Watkins’s wellbeing."
"That’s assuming that the murderer is a rational human being. Don’t ever do that, Victoria. It could get you killed."
"I promise that I’ll be careful, and don’t forget, Moose will be with me the entire time."
"And that’s supposed to make me feel better how exactly?" he asked.
"Don’t forget, Sheriff, we’ve done this before," I reminded him.
"All it takes is one slip to be dead forever," Sheriff Croft reminded me.
I didn’t like the way our conversation was heading. It was time to get off the phone with him before he changed his mind completely about our plan.
"We’ll call you later," I said, and then I started to hang up.
I could hear him saying something else in the background, but I killed the call before he had the chance.
Grabbing Moose’s arm, I said, "We’re on."
"It’s about time," my grandfather said, and we headed for the door without even stopping to say goodbye to our loved ones. Moose and I had to find our suspects and tell them the false news as soon as we could. It was hard to tell how long the sheriff could keep the trap open, and if it was going to work, we needed it to do its magic tonight, or risk losing the chance forever.
Chapter 14
"Who should we tackle first?" I asked Moose as we pulled out of the diner.
"Why don’t we start with the suspects who are likely in town? There’s a better chance of finding them quickly, and then we can track the others down after that."
"Sounds good to me," I said.
In just a few minutes, we were in front of The Suds Center. I was happy to see that Penny was there, but she was on the phone, having an animated conversation with someone.
"Can we talk?" I asked her softly as we walked in the door.
Penny put her hand over the phone. "Is it important? I’m trying to wrap things up here. If this call works out, I might just have a buyer for the place."
"Call them back. Trust us; you’ll want to hear this," Moose said.
Penny frowned, and then she said to her caller, "Sheila, someone’s here who is insistent about talking to me. Do you mind? Okay. Two minutes, I promise." After she closed her telephone, she said, "You heard me. You’ve got a couple of minutes, so talk fast."
"We don’t even need that long," I said. "We’re here to share some good news. Ron Watkins is coming out of his coma, and he’s starting to talk. His memory’s still a little foggy, but the doctors are saying that by morning, he should be able to tell them what really happened to him."
Penny frowned. "I thought they already knew what happened. A tool chest fell on his head, right?"
"That’s what the police want to know, whether it was an accident, or an attempt on his life."
"Okay, I’m sure that’s all well and good, but why bother telling me? I told you before, Ron and I were never what you’d call close."
"But you were close to Wally, and don’t try to deny it. Whoever killed Wally was most likely the person who attacked Ron."
"Like I told you before, Wally and I were casual. He had a crush on me all that time, but I couldn’t bring myself to date somebody I thought of as Jan’s little brother, at least not seriously."
"You two were close in high school, weren’t you?"
Penny shrugged. "With Sally, we were the Three Musketeers. But that was a long time ago. We all barely even talk now."
I had a hunch, and decided to follow up on it. "That’s because of the car accident you all had, right?"
"Who told you about that?" Penny asked, clearly surprised by the abrupt turn in our conversation. "Has someone been talking?"
I could see that Moose was just as curious as Penny was, but I’d have to deal with my grandfather later. "They never figured out which one of you was driving, did they?"
"Does it matter, at this point?"
"It might help to get your side of the story out there," I said.
"Did somebody say I was behind the wheel? That’s a big, fat lie. Sally was driving, at least when we wrecked. We were all drinking, taking turns behind the wheel, but I didn’t hit that bridge. We were lucky to get out of it alive. Jan left town soon after, and Sally and I stopped hanging out. It’s ancient history, Victoria." She looked as though she’d just eaten something unpleasant. "Is there anything else I can do for you? I really don’t have to time to rehash old memories."
"We just thought that
the news about Ron was important enough to share," Moose said.
Penny waved a hand in the air. "So, you’ve shared." Without another word to us, she picked up her phone, but I stopped her by putting a hand on her arm.
"One more thing," I said. "What’s the real reason you’re leaving town? We don’t believe that you’re going just because you decided you needed a change of scenery. What happened?"
"Nothing!" she snapped as she jerked her arm free. Penny dialed a number on her phone, and a few seconds later, she said, "Sheila, I’m back. Tell them they have to come up with five grand more, or the deal is off. Is it true? Of course not, I’m bluffing, but try to get more money, anyway. Do I need to do your job for you?"
We left her, and Moose said, "Well, that was interesting. How did you know who really wrecked the car? Did someone talk?"
"Nobody," I admitted. "It was just an educated guess."
"Good work," Moose said. "You had me going there for a second. Do you know why Penny’s leaving, or were you just guessing there, too?"
"I was on a roll, so I thought I’d go for it. I don’t know, Moose. Maybe she’s telling us the truth about why she’s going. When she was telling us about feeling awkward dating Jan’s little brother, I believed her. It would explain why Wally took it so hard if he had a crush on her all those years. The more we talk to Penny, the less inclined I am to believe that she’s the killer we’re looking for."
"You could be right," my grandfather said, "but I’m not willing to mark her name off our list until we find something more concrete than a gut reaction."
"That’s fine, but we need to keep moving. Let’s go talk to Dave," I said. "Maybe we’ll be able to get something out of him, too."
"All we can do is try, and if nothing else, we can at least deliver our message."
We found Dave Evans stocking cases of bottled water at his grocery store, and he looked quite a bit worse for the wear from his time drinking earlier.
"Dave, do you have a second?" Moose asked as we approached.
"Lower your voice, would you? My head’s killing me," Dave said as he rubbed his temples.
