by Linda Lovely
My aunt and guests filled their soup bowls to the brim and helped themselves to bread. I insisted on being last in line. If the soup ran out, I could always stir-fry veggies and tofu. But it looked like there’d even be enough for seconds. My split pea was thick enough to stand a spoon up in it. I loaded it with onions, potatoes, and lots of carrots as well as split and green peas. For a few minutes, spoons scraping against bowls provided the only sounds.
Usually when this group huddled around the table, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. The silence felt like a dark cloud.
“I keep thinking about what Carol said about a damp cloth over her mouth and her out-of-body experience,” Andy said. “My theory? Somebody used a chloroform-soaked rag to put her out and followed up with a drug like Ketamine. I use it to anaesthetize animals when I operate, and I’m very careful about locking it up. It’s become a popular drug at raves. Kids misuse it. Though I can’t for the life of me understand wanting to experience hallucinations.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Paint said. “Maybe from Howie Lemcke. Something about emergency surgeries in the field.”
Andy nodded. “Right. It’s used to put humans under for surgery, especially when medics have no access to ventilation equipment. Ketamine’s less likely than other anesthetics to affect breathing. But it’s used less often as a primary anesthetic in hospitals since it can have side effects—like hallucinations, disorientation, and out-of-body experiences. Symptoms like Carol’s.”
Eva fiddled with her napkin. “I’m sure Carol was drugged. Just hope there’s no lasting damage.”
“Her ordeal may be over, but Mick is dead.” Paint slumped in his seat. “I feel guilty. Maybe if I’d answered his calls he’d be alive. I keep wondering if he was asking for my help. Lord knows he didn’t have a lot of friends to turn to.”
“Do you think he came to that hunting cabin of his own accord?” Mollye asked as she buttered another hunk of bread. “Uncle Les never mentioned Mick as one of the regulars. ’Course Mick might have gone there looking for Chester. Sorry but I can’t see Chester offing his wife’s only brother.”
Paint sighed. “All I know is Mick seemed obsessed with Zack, and the voice messages he left sounded more and more unhinged. I think Mick either attacked Zack or knew who did.”
I frowned as I waved a hand at our three guests. “All of you went to high school with Mick. Was he one of Zack’s buddies?”
“Mick was a year behind us, same grade as Chester,” Andy answered. “I doubt Mick and Zack ever said more than hi as they passed in the hall. They just didn’t run with the same crowd. But a few years ago, Mick scraped together enough coin to go to an Aces game. Zack introduced him around as one of his high school mates.”
“You think Mick fantasized he was great pals with the football star?” Mollye asked.
Paint shrugged. “Mick gambled. His sister asked me to talk with him about his gambling. She was convinced he was addicted to online, high-stakes action.”
“Did you talk to him?” Mollye asked.
Paint nodded. “Not a very successful conversation. I had the impression he’d been losing big time—at least big time for someone with Mick’s income. He seemed all nervous and jerky. Made me wonder if he might be doing drugs. Maybe meth.”
“Druggies can get pretty paranoid,” Mollye said. “If he was whacked out on meth, he could have lost it and blamed Zack for losing a big bet.”
“Guess I can buy that if his brain was fried,” Paint answered. “But that doesn’t explain why Chester or his hunting buddies would kill Mick. If he was the attacker, I’d think the CAVE men would throw Mick a party. Zack did sock Chester.”
Silence descended as we tried to sort through possibilities. Paint walked to the crockpot to help himself to a second bowl of soup. He used the brief recess to jump topics.
“I asked Zack about the sex video. Eva had gone for coffee. Linda and Doug hadn’t arrived. Zack still hasn’t seen the video, so I provided some color commentary the sheriff omitted when he questioned Zack. It was the first Zack heard about a Joker tattoo on a bare butt.”
Paint sat down and paused to slather butter on a slice of bread, acting as if it needed his complete attention.
“Quit toying with us, butthead,” Mollye complained. “Inquiring minds need to know. What did Zack say?”
Paint chuckled. “You’re so impatient, Mollye. Zack swore his derriere didn’t boast a tattoo. He seemed relieved the butt in question couldn’t be his. He also seemed annoyed. His reaction made me wonder if he’d also enjoyed the pleasure of Sala’s company.”
Eva cleared her throat. “No point speculating about something that’s none of our beeswax. Did Zack have any idea who sent him the video or why people were frantic to snatch it?”
Paint shook his head. “I suspect he knows who played the male lead. My guess—and it’s purely that—is Zack plans to chat with the man.”
Mollye grinned. “Okay, if Zack could tell who it was based on the tattoo, the man may be a teammate. Maybe that’s why Zack wanted to huddle with Doug. Do you suppose that magnificent butt belongs to Doug? Maybe Sala has a thing for quarterbacks. Couldn’t blame her. Look up stud in the dictionary and you might see a picture of both those hunks.”
Aunt Eva frowned. “Sala seemed genuinely surprised a video existed. If she’s right and her stepdaughter paid those security bozos to break into Carol’s house, maybe Kate paid someone to make that video as well.”
“Possible, but Kate would be beyond stupid to finance an attack on Zack,” Andy said. “If the Aces get to the Super Bowl, the team will rake in megabucks. Even a minority owner would pocket a big chunk of change. Putting Zack on the disabled list would be incredibly dumb.”
Mollye waved her soup spoon in the air. “But if Kate didn’t commission Zack’s attack, who did? Assuming the attack was planned to nab the phone, Kate and Sala are the two with the most obvious motives.”
I agreed. “But how would Kate even know there was a video? Zack couldn’t have told anyone. He hadn’t opened it. Someone had to clue Kate in—either the sender or someone he told. I’m still baffled by the sender’s motive unless he was warning Zack that he had claims on Sala.”
“That brings up another problem. If the sender wasn’t in the video, how did he get a copy?” Mollye asked.
“Maybe the sender wasn’t a he,” Paint said. “Maybe some woman has it in for Sala. Knowing who sent the video could tell us a lot.”
“Any way to ID the sender?” I asked.
“I’ll ask the dude who handles our computer security,” Paint answered.
A crack of thunder sounded and a sudden gust of wind made the pine trees outside sigh as they swayed, their branches scratching the cabin’s metal roof.
“That settles it,” Eva said. “I’m off to bed. I need to get up tomorrow and milk goats. Then I’m heading to the hospital to pick up Zack and maybe Carol. If either Strong wants to tell us more about their personal affairs, fine. If not, we’ll respect their wishes.”
Andy and Mollye rose, too. “Yeah, tomorrow’s a weekday.” Mollye groaned. “Some customers scheduled Tarot readings with me and I’m expecting deliveries. I’ll be at Starry Skies all day. Promise you’ll keep me posted. I’m dying of curiosity.”
She chuckled. “Business should be brisk. Lots of out-of-towners wandering about, and I’m willing to help them spend money. Maybe I ought to offer reporters Tarot readings, help them figure out how to land a big scoop.”
Andy shook his head. “I’m glad reporters don’t bring their pets. I’ve got enough on my plate. Three farm calls tomorrow. I’ll be spending the day giving vaccinations to large animals. Sometimes exciting.”
Paint lingered, fidgeting with his coat as Andy and Mollye walked out.
“Still up for that nightcap?” He raised our kitchen blinds to check on the storm. A white-hot lightning bolt
flared in the glass. Electricity actually raised the hairs on my arm.
“I guess so, if you’re sure we won’t wash away.”
“Not a chance with my truck,” he answered.
“Ah, the idiocy—I mean optimism—of youth,” Eva countered. “Take your AAA card in case you need a tow, Brie, and don’t stay out too late.”
Eva twisted the dishtowel in her hands. She looked troubled.
“Would you rather I stayed in tonight?” I asked.
Eva sagged against the kitchen counter. “It’s not that. I just hope I did the right thing, inviting Zack and Carol to stay here. What if the people behind Zack’s attack and Carol’s kidnapping aren’t finished? What if I’ve put you in the line of fire? I love Carol and Zack, but I love you more.”
I shook my head. “Sala fired Vince and Gunter. Even if Kate’s been paying them off the books, they’re probably long gone. I would be. Too dicey.”
Paint walked over and gave Eva a hug. “Sheriff Mason’s a professional. He’ll keep digging. You can count on me, too. I’m an even better shot than Billy.”
Eva sucked in a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, go on, get out of here. I’m just getting old. Still I’d breathe easier if I believed that buffoon Chester and his cronies posed the only danger. There’s more to this than some CAVE-man crusade.”
Since I hoped to open a B&B, I was eager to see the inside of the Maison d’Orange, a boutique hotel housed in an impressive modern brick building, with six luxurious bed-and-bath suites in each of its two wings.
Paint parked far enough down the circular drive that we wouldn’t block the entrance for any late arrivals. We raced to the front door trying to dodge fat raindrops.
Inside, a crackling fire drew me to its side. I was warming my hands when I heard her voice, a French-accented melody. “Paint, so happy you dropped in.”
I turned. The woman was striking. Smooth alabaster skin. Large brown eyes. Auburn hair piled in a complicated twist.
En route, Paint had told me a little about Madame Thompson, the widowed owner. After her wealthy husband died, she missed hostessing grand parties. She’d built the estate-like facility to showcase her exquisite taste and hospitality.
The boutique hotel, known for serving a luscious breakfast and afternoon tea, hosted many weddings and special events. It also stocked a bar for after-dinner refreshments. Tough competition for my future B&B, though I hoped vegan and vegetarian fare and lower rates would lure my niche market.
“What can I get my favorite moonshiner and his lady to drink?” Madame asked.
Paint nodded at me to order. “Do you have coconut cream?” I asked. “If so, I’d like a Kahlua and cream.”
“Mais, oui,” she answered.
Paint surprised me by ordering a brandy rather than moonshine. “Product research,” he explained. “Won’t be long before my distillery’s making a variety of whiskies.”
“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.” Madame Thompson smiled as she prepared my drink.
“Won’t you join us?” Paint asked as we settled at a small table near the fireplace.
“A delight,” she raised an eyebrow as she glanced at me, “if I’m not intruding.”
Madame Thompson was clearly smitten. Though Paint was probably thirty years younger, I got the feeling she’d pursue a dalliance given the slightest encouragement.
Paint brought his hand up to cover mine. His fingers began a gentle massage. Was he signaling I was more than a friend or offering an invitation? Didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to object. The warm connection felt way too good.
As we chatted, Paint proved brilliant at covertly guiding the conversation. In minutes, we learned both Kate and Doug were registered guests. The proprietress also told us about her concern earlier in the day about an unmarked van loitering behind the building. “I was trying to get up my nerve to confront them, when they drove away,” she said.
“Did you see anyone inside?” Paint asked.
She shook her head. “No. The windows were too dark.”
Could it have been Gunter and Vince? If so, was Sala’s intuition right about Kate hiring them?
We heard the front door open, and Madame Thompson levitated to her feet to greet the new arrival. “Oh, Mademoiselle Lemmon,” she cooed. “It’s so cold outside. Won’t you join us by the fire?”
“Don’t turn around,” Paint whispered. “Let’s keep our backs to Kate and hope she goes away.”
“Send a snifter of brandy to my suite,” Kate ordered without so much as a please or thank you. “And I want a limo at nine a.m. to take me to the airport. I’m checking out.”
Good. Maybe Gunter and Vince had simply stopped by for a final paycheck. Kate leaving Ardon County had to be good news.
THIRTY
I’m never eager to jump out of bed at five in the morning. This Tuesday was no exception. But, as soon as I walked outside, I could tell the day would be a beauty. Last night’s lightning and thunder theatrics cleared the heavens for a Carolina blue sky, no wind, and warmer temperatures. Even our randy billy goats seemed in a mellow mood; no morning stunts as I delivered Duncan and Jordan their special feed.
I whistled as I tackled my chores. My evening excursion contributed to my cheer, though I wasn’t certain what made me happier—Kate flying the coop or Paint as thoughtful escort, a taste of what a real date might promise.
With essential dairy and farm duties completed by mid-morning, I worked on a grocery list while Eva phoned the hospital to see if she was breaking out one patient or two. If she needed to bring both Zack and Carol home, we’d swap vehicles. She’d take my Prius; I’d drive her truck to fetch supplies.
Eva looked puzzled when she hung up the phone. “Zack says the sheriff will deliver him and his mom to Udderly around one o’clock.”
“Did he say why?”
“Nope, he was very guarded. Maybe the sheriff was in the room. Go ahead and run your errands. I won’t need your car. I’ll use the break to whip up a batch of cheese.”
I headed to the nearest big box superstore, a forty-five-minute drive, to buy two blow-up mattresses. One for me, one for Eva. Better than the cramped love seat. I also needed to stock up on provisions to feed our houseguests. I loved being with people, but it also felt really good to be alone. Silence. No one talking. I didn’t even turn on the radio until I was half an hour into the drive. Then I tuned into a local station to see if there was news on any of our mystery fronts.
The pretend sounds of a clattering teletype alerted me, and all other listeners, that a news bulletin was about to begin. “This just in,” said a breathless reporter. “This morning the body of a local man, Mick Hardy, was discovered in the trunk of a Cadillac found abandoned near Winding Creek. A knife wound to the chest was the apparent cause of Hardy’s death. His body has been taken to Greenville for autopsy. Ardon County Sheriff Mason said it appeared that Hardy, an employee at Jameson Quarry, was killed sometime late Sunday or early Monday. The autopsy should help narrow the time of death.
“The sheriff declined to confirm if the Cadillac containing Hardy’s body belonged to gubernatorial candidate Carol Strong. WSSL has learned that Mrs. Strong is the owner of a Cadillac Seville. She was found Monday afternoon walking in the rain near where the car containing Hardy’s body was discovered. WSSL will bring you updates as soon as we know more.”
Moldy Muenster. Was Eva listening to her radio? No point calling. She wouldn’t have taken her cell phone to the barn. Too bad. She’d want a heads up before the sheriff brought our houseguests.
At least Sheriff Mason would now believe my friends and I really saw Mick’s dead body. Of course, finding the corpse in the trunk of a Caddy wasn’t good news. Carol’s car had a roomy trunk. There was no doubt in my mind: Mick’s body had been stuffed inside.
But who did the stuffing? I rejected Carol as cu
lprit, and Chester seemed an unlikely candidate unless he’d killed his own brother-in-law. I sure hoped Carol would regain some memory of those missing hours. Looked like she might need to in order to defend herself.
Once I reached the superstore’s parking lot, I stayed in the car to phone Mom. While she didn’t practice criminal law, she really was Carol Strong’s family attorney. Mom hadn’t fibbed about that when Kate Lemmon tried to bully us into surrendering Zack’s phone. Mom would want to know about the new developments. Then she could decide if Carol needed to talk with an attorney sooner rather than later.
Mom’s answer? Sooner. Said she’d try to reach the farm before the sheriff arrived with Carol and Zack.
While I sat with my Prius securely in park, I replied to concerned texts from Mollye, Paint, and Andy, letting them know Mom was on the case to protect Carol’s legal rights. I finished my shopping as quickly as possible, buying two queen-size air mattresses along with groceries. While I like to frequent local shops that carry fresh farm-to-table produce, the speed of one-stop shopping trumped my fresh-over-frozen preference.
Back home, I found Eva in the barn. She hadn’t heard the news, but was glad I’d called in Mom. We quickly put away the groceries, and wolfed down a quick lunch before we got any more surprises.
At five till one, Mom led a vehicle parade to our cabin. She’d beaten the sheriff to the turnoff by a hair. At least I assumed the unmarked sedan glued to Mom’s bumper belonged to the sheriff. I wondered if Mason’s incognito ride was designed to spirit the Strongs away without alerting the media. A girl can hope.
Eva and I went outside to greet the newcomers. We weren’t sure if the sheriff was offering a drop-off taxi service or planned to stay. Mom exited her car and paused at the bottom of the cabin steps. I figured she wanted to see if Zack or Carol needed help and who would come inside.
Sheriff Mason and Deputy McCoy helped their passengers out. Carol, looking—and acting—more like the take-charge woman I knew, shook off the sheriff’s arm as soon as she steadied herself. Though Zack’s right arm was in a sling and he wore a huge boot to immobilize his broken left ankle, he also waved off assistance. He used a cane, rather than a crutch, to maneuver with his cast-boot.
