by Jessica Beck
"Sorry about that," Moose said in a softer voice. "We just got back from the hospital, and we thought you’d like to know what’s going on. Ron’s out of his coma, and he’s starting to come around. They said that by tomorrow morning, he should be able to tell the police what really happened to him in Wally’s barn."
"Just like that?" Dave asked, now rubbing the back of his neck with both hands. The man looked truly miserable. "Funny, I thought he was supposed to be out of it for quite a while. That’s good news for Ron. Listen, I’m sorry to be rude, but I’m in the middle of one killer hangover, and I’m not in any mood to chat."
"We understand," I said. "Well, we need to run. Hope you’re feeling better soon."
Dave didn’t answer, but just shook his head again, and then grimaced from the motion.
Once we were back out in the truck, I asked Moose, "Could you tell anything from his reaction to the news?"
"Just that he’s as hung over as any man I’ve ever seen," Moose said. "I doubt that Dave’s going to spring our trap, not unless he’s faking how bad he feels. Victoria, this is useless."
"Don’t despair," I said. "We’re doing this to set our trap, remember? We won’t know if we’re having any luck until we find out if the killer steps into it or not."
"I suppose you’re right," Moose said, "but I’m still hoping for some kind of spectacular confession when someone hears the news."
"Well, I doubt that’s going to happen, but we have two more folks to tell, so who knows?"
Moose just shrugged. "Should we talk to Sally Ketchum next, or go after Jan Bain?"
I looked down the street and saw our last two suspects coming out of Rebecca’s office together. "We’re in luck," I said as I got out of the truck and started toward them.
Moose was close on my heels, and we managed to catch up with them before they could part ways.
"I’m glad we caught you both," I said to them. "We’ve been looking for you, but I had no idea you two would be together."
"Rebecca Davis just took care of the real estate transfer," Jan said.
"So, it’s a done deal?" Moose asked.
"The land is now officially Sally’s," Jan said. "If you ask me, she’s getting a real steal."
Sally Ketchum bristled a little at Jan’s interpretation of the sale. "You said yourself the place wasn’t worth nearly as much without the house. It was a fair price, and you know it."
"I suppose so," Jan said as she shook her head, and then she turned to me. "Besides, what’s twenty thousand dollars between old friends, anyway? Why were you looking for both us, Victoria?"
"We have news. Ron’s coming out of his coma. He’s still pretty groggy at the moment, but they said that by morning he’ll be able to tell the police what really happened to him in the barn."
"I’m glad," Jan said, though it was said completely without emotion.
"Do you have any idea how soon he’ll be able to get back to work?" Sally asked. "I need him as fast as he can jump back in. Things are stacking up around the farm, and if he doesn’t come back soon, I’m going to have to find someone else to take his place."
"They didn’t say," I told her. There hadn’t been much joy from either one of them when they’d heard the news. What was with these people? Didn’t they care about the man at all?
"Was there anything else?" Jan asked.
When I shook my head, she said, "Well, as much as I’d love to stay here and chat, I’ve got things to do."
"Me, too," Sally said, as though she wasn’t about to let her old friend upstage her.
After Sally and Jan parted ways, I looked at Moose. "Did it strike you as odd that nobody seemed to care one way or the other about Ron?"
"At least they’re not showing it if they do. Should we call the sheriff and tell him that we finished delivering the news?"
"I have a better idea," I said. "Let’s go see him at the hospital and let him know in person. I want to see what he’s got rigged up."
"That sounds good to me," Moose said.
As we drove there, I asked my grandfather, "So, do you have a favorite suspect at this point?"
"I just don’t know, Victoria. I’m not sure I can see Penny as a spiteful ex-girlfriend with murder on her mind, especially after the conversation we just had with her. Dave got some bad veggies, just like we did, but again, is it worth killing someone over?"
"Remember," I said, "reactions aren’t always proportional, or even rational, all of the time. Penny and Dave seem calm enough, but let’s think of this as a worst-case-scenario situation. Try to imagine Penny livid with rage over being dumped, or Dave fighting with Wally about bad produce, and then it escalating as both men continued to overreact."
"I guess I can see the possibilities," Moose said. "But what about Sally and Jan? They’re the only other suspects on our list."
I thought about it, and then said, "Well, Sally admitted that she argued a lot with Wally, but the way she put it, it was just a normal part of their interactions. Anything’s possible, but as far as I can see, Jan’s the only one with a real stake in this. With Wally dead, she gets everything."
"Which is worth a great deal less now than it was a few days ago because of the fire," Moose reminded me.
"When you think about it, we have three separate events. Are they different twists of fate, or could they all be tied together? We start with Wally Bain’s murder, then the attack on Ron, and finally, Wally’s house burning down to the ground."
"They have to be connected," Moose said. "I can’t believe they are just coincidences."
"Neither can I," I said, "but how they all connect is beyond me."
Moose glanced over at me and asked, "Victoria, how much do you think Jan got from the sale of the land?"
"Well, I doubt Sally could afford to pay her all that much," I said. "She keeps complaining about the thin margin she works on. According to her, she struggles to find the money to get away to those farming seminars she’s goes to every now and then, and the only way she can afford to attend is to stay at other people’s farms."
"There’s something else," Moose said. "I keep wondering why someone would take a run at Ron after they killed Wally Bain. Did Ron see something he shouldn’t have? If he could have named Wally’s killer before he was attacked, why didn’t he? He tried to tell you something the morning he was clobbered, didn’t he?"
"I know, but I keep wondering why he chose me. If he had something to say, he should have told the sheriff about it, and he had plenty of opportunities to do that, but he chose not to." I thought about Ron, and our interaction in the hospital before his coma. "What did he say to me, that his hands were dirty?"
"He kept wiping them on the sheet," Moose said. "The man was delirious."
"What if he was talking figuratively?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if his hands were dirty because of something he’d done, or helped someone else do? It might be enough to keep him quiet about something he’d done if he was culpable, too," I suggested.
"So, what could he and Wally have been up to, and why would someone want them both shut up permanently because of it?"
"I’m not sure," I said. "How could a couple of farmers get themselves into that kind of trouble?"
"I have no idea," Moose said as we pulled up at the hospital. "Maybe the sheriff’s got an idea he hasn’t shared with us yet."
"Just between the two of us, I hope so," I said.
As we approached the information desk, Moose asked me, "How are we going to find the sheriff?"
"If our plan is in place, it should be easy enough," I said. "Excuse me, but could you tell me what room Ron Watkins is in?"
The older man behind the desk tapped a few keys, and then checked his screen. "He’s in Room 242. Take the elevator to the second floor, and it’s the last room on the right."
As Moose and I got into the elevator, he said, "I’m still surprised the sheriff agreed to do this. He must be just as desperate as we are."
"Everything
can’t be like one of those television shows where it’s all wrapped up in under an hour," I said. "I’m sure a bunch of cases go unsolved all the time. If he can end one with a stunt like this, why not take the chance?"
"Hey, I’m as happy as you are that he’s giving this a shot."
We got to 242, and I knocked lightly on the door. There was no response, so I pushed the door open just a little. There in the bed was a man lying down with his back to us. If it was a dummy, it was the most realistic one I’d ever seen in my life.
We didn’t get two steps inside the room before the sheriff stepped toward us from behind the door, his gun pointed straight at both of us.
"Take it easy," Moose said. "We’re the good guys, remember?"
"What are you two doing here?" Sheriff Croft asked as he lowered his revolver.
"We came to tell you that the trap’s been set. Can we hang around here with you to see who shows up?"
"Sorry, but it’s too dangerous," the sheriff said as he spoke into his radio. "False alarm. Everyone step down, but stay on alert."
"How many people do you have here at the hospital?" I asked.
"I’d rather not say. You really should have called."
"Can you blame us for wanting to see who comes here?" Moose asked.
"I understand, but you’ve got to go. Take the backstairs on your way out. I’ll let you know if anyone comes by, but you have to stay away from the hospital. We don’t want to take the chance of spooking anybody."
"Okay, we get it," I agreed reluctantly. "Come on, Moose. Let’s go."
I had a plan, but it was foiled before we even had the chance to get out of the hospital room. The sheriff said, "I don’t want to hear that either one of you is hanging around in the parking lot, either. Call me when you get back to the diner."
I nodded, trying to hide the fact that he’d figured out what I was just about to suggest to my grandfather.
We were back in the truck before Moose said, "I was going to propose that we linger here a little, but I have a hunch we’re being watched even now."
I looked around, but I couldn’t spot any cops in the parking lot. That didn’t mean that no one was there, though. "I had the same thought myself. Do you think the sheriff can read minds?"
"I don’t think it’s that great a leap to realize that we want to be in on this, since we’re the ones who took the risk setting it up."
"Well, we’ve both said all along that we don’t care how the killer is caught, just as long as they end up behind bars."
"I know that," Moose said, "but you have to admit that it’s a lot more satisfying when we’re in on it at the end."
"I’d be lying if it said it weren’t true," I told him, "but I don’t think there’s much we can do at this point."
As Moose drove off, I asked my grandfather, "Are we going to do as we’ve been told and go back to The Charming Moose?"
"We’d better not risk anything else," he said.
"That’s okay with me," I answered. "If I have to wait around somewhere to hear what’s happening, I’d just as soon it be at the diner."
"I couldn’t agree more," Moose said.
It was nearing my shift at the register when we walked in just a few minutes before five. Martha had worked a long shift, and she looked pleased to see me and my grandfather walk back into the diner. "Are you two finished with what you had to do?"
"We got lucky," Moose said as he gave his wife a kiss. "Two of our suspects were together, so we killed two birds with one stone."
"You know how I’ve always hated that expression," Martha said. "Why would anyone want to kill a single bird, let alone two?"
"Sorry, I slipped up," Moose said. "Anyway, we went to the hospital to tell the sheriff what we’d done, and he threw us out."
"Why wouldn’t he?" Martha asked. "You both have taken enough chances for one day. Are we going home now, Moose?"
"If you don’t mind, I’d like to hang around here a little longer."
"Feel free to stay, but I’m taking over the register," I said. "Thanks again for helping out today, Martha. You were a real lifesaver."
"I was glad to be of service," Martha said, "but truly, I wouldn’t mind getting off my feet." She turned to her husband and added, "Moose, if you’d like to stay here, that’s fine with me, but I’m going to go home and take a long, hot bath."
"You honestly wouldn’t mind if I stayed for a while?"
"Actually, I’m encouraging it," Martha said with a smile before giving her husband a kiss. "See you later."
"Bye," he said.
"Are you sure you don’t want to go with her?" I asked my grandfather as she left.
"No, I’m staying right here," Moose said as he headed toward an empty booth. "Don’t worry. I’ll move if it gets busy."
"Sit wherever you want," I said with a smile. "After all, you are the original Charming Moose, remember?"
"How could I ever forget?" he asked with a grin of his own.
I said hello to Jenny Hollister, who’d already been there working for an hour, and then ducked into the kitchen for a second. "Hey there," I told Greg as I gave him a quick kiss.
"Hey, yourself," he said. "Did you have any luck?"
"Keep your fingers crossed," I replied. "I just wanted you to know that we were back."
"You’d be amazed by what I can see through that window," he said as he pointed to the pass-through where we picked up the orders on the other side. "But it’s sweet of you to let me know in person. Can I make you something to eat?"
"I just started my shift," I said. "I’d feel guilty taking a break."
"How about if I make you a BLT? You can nibble on it as you get time."
It sounded tempting, and Greg knew that I was a sucker for our center-cut thick slab bacon. "Okay, you twisted my arm."
"I hope I didn’t hurt you when I did it," he said with a smile.
"Don’t worry about me. I’m tough," I replied with a grin of my own.
We were an hour into our dinner crowd, and my sandwich was long gone, when I nearly dropped the stack of menus I’d been cleaning up front.
Dave Evans walked through the door, and I wondered if he was on his way to the hospital to spring our trap, or if he had an even more ominous reason to be visiting The Charming Moose.
Chapter 15
"What can I do for you?" I asked Dave as he hesitated at my station by the cash register.
"I’d like some coffee, and a chance to chat alone with you," he said.
"Are you feeling any better?" I asked.
"I’ll live," he replied.
Moose had watched him since he first crossed the threshold, and as he started to get up to join us, I shook my head. I had a hunch the grocer wouldn’t speak as freely in front of my grandfather, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.
"Sure, I’ve got a little time," I said as I directed him to the table closest to the cash register. "I’ll have to ring folks up when they’re ready, though."
"That’s fine with me. I was wondering if you’d heard any more about Ron Watkins," he asked as I got us two coffee cups and filled them both up.
"Apparently he’s doing great," I said, lying cheerfully. "Isn’t that wonderful news?"
"It sure is," Dave said, though his sincerity was suspect. Trying to act casual, he asked, "Is he talking yet?"
"No, but that’s understandable. They’re going to leave him alone tonight so he can get some rest. It probably won’t be until morning," I said. "Is there anything in particular you think he might say when he comes out of it?"
Dave shook his head. "Nothing I can think of. I’ve been thinking, Victoria, and I wonder if they can even trust what he tells them after a blow to the head like the one he took. The man could have delusions that seem perfectly real to him."
"I never thought about that possibility," I said. It appeared that Dave was already laying the groundwork for his denial of whatever Ron might say.
"You should. Who knows? He might blame one
of us for who knows what. Then again, he could come up with wild stories about Penny, Sally, or Jan."
"Why would he do that?"
"Well, you know that he and Penny never really got along. He told me that once when she showed up at the grocery store while he was making a delivery. As for Sally, working for her and Wally, he could have delusions of some kind of conspiracy between them. Jan was nearby on the property when he got hit in the head, so who knows what he might say about her?"
"I’m curious, Dave. What exactly are you worried about that he might have to say about you?" I asked. There had to be a reason that Dave was sitting there doing his best to plant suspicions about all of our suspects in my mind.
"You really don’t expect me to know what might be going through his head, do you? I can’t even guess what the man might say." Dave brooded a little as he took another sip of coffee, and then he pulled a dollar bill out of his jacket. "Thanks for the coffee."
"There’s no need to rush off, is there? Greg made a great meatloaf today. Can I get you a plate?"
"Sorry, but there’s no time. I’ve got to get back to work, you know."
After Dave was gone, Moose approached me and asked, "What was that all about?"
"Good old Dave just tried to sell me on the ridiculous idea that whatever Ron might tell us after he wakes up is going to be questionable. I’ve got an uneasy feeling about that man. He hasn’t been himself lately, has he?"
"I have to admit that his drunken display surprised me," Moose admitted. "Are you going to call the sheriff and tell him what Dave just said?"
"Should I?" I asked.
"What can it hurt? He should know that Dave’s making the rounds talking about Ron. Is it that farfetched to believe that he might be laying the groundwork for another murder?"
"I’m not sure, but you’re right. What could it hurt?"
The only problem was that the sheriff wouldn’t pick up his phone. I waited for the beep, and then I left a message. It was all I could do, short of calling the hospital and having him paged. I knew that he wouldn’t appreciate that, and I didn’t need a psychic to tell me that it was true.
