“Someone sure went to enough trouble to make the cops think they’re accidental.”
“Well, at least now we know the name of Donald’s mother. She shouldn’t be too hard to find in Au Gres. Small town and local dies in a car accident.”
I debated trying to find a way around Tawas, since the festival was in full swing, but once I thought of how much longer it would take me, I decided to just muddle through and take US 23 back through Tawas.
“Aren’t we going to stop somewhere to eat? I’m starved.”
“No. At least not in Tawas. It’s too busy today. I promise we’ll find a nice place to eat closer to Au Gres.”
“How about the H&H Bakery and Restaurant?”
“Works for me. Might be a good place to find out where Donald’s mother lives.”
The stop-and-go traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I actually looked forward to leaving for Au Gres. “Eleanor, could you call Andrew for me and tell his we’re going to Au Gres?”
“Not a chance. If the men knew that, they’d insist on coming along. I enjoy our girl time.”
“But we have plenty of that when we’re investigating.”
“I know, but it’s so different now that we’re married. I think we should have more time than just the four of us.”
“Eleanor, we were on a cruise together and Vegas. What more do you want?”
Eleanor sighed. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just being sentimental. Things aren’t like the old days, are they?”
“Actually, no, but I’d like to say things are for the better. I’m married to the man I used to work for after my husband died. I still have to pinch myself that I’m married to Andrew. Even he’s changed. He used to spend more time out of Tawas than in, but he seems to have settled that down now that we’re married.”
“It’s good to have an attorney on stand by.” Eleanor laughed. “I must admit life was pretty dull without Mr. Wilson. He’s quite the card.”
Wilson was more than that. It’s remarkable how he was with Eleanor. He was very sweet to her and I was glad she found happiness in her life.
* * *
When I finally pulled into the restaurant, I was past starved. My body felt stiff even though it was merely a twenty-seven minute drive. The bad part about coming here was you had to walk past the bakery area. It made my stomach growl even worse.
We were quickly seated and when the server came over, we ordered two diet cokes. I observed the sparse crowd, mostly old timers from the looks of it, solitary men or woman of a certain age. I remembered those days and was glad that I had my Andrew now.
Our drinks were set down and we ordered the special, fried chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans.
“I don’t know about you,” Eleanor began. “But I’m saving room for pie.”
“What brings you ladies to Au Gres?” asked a man from the next table.
“We’re here looking for Clara Downey, I think. I mean Donald Downey’s mother. I’m not sure she has the same last name as him.”
“Sure does. All you have to do is take Stanley Boulevard and go on down to East Michigan Avenue. Take a left and the fifth house on the left is Clara’s place. She has a camper parked next to her garage. You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope you don’t plan on going to Donald’s funeral. Clara’s having him cremated since he didn’t have any life insurance.”
“Oh, no. We’re just investigating Donald’s car accident. The thing was, it wasn’t his car involved in the accident. He borrowed the car.”
“I bet he did, since he didn’t own a car.”
“I imagine you know everyone in town.”
“I sure do, or most of them anyhow.” He laughed.
“What kind of man was Donald?”
“It’s so strange talking about him now that he’s not alive, but I’d have to admit that he was a troubled teen, but after high school he became interested in bird watching, if you can believe that. Not the type of thing you’d think a young man would be interested in. From what I heard, he was planning to go to college in the fall. He wanted to be a conservation officer. I guess all the bird watching turned out to be a good thing for him.”
Our food was brought and I thanked the man for the information. The chicken melted in my mouth when I tried it and it wasn’t long before I was stuffed to the gills, but when I looked over to Eleanor she had that grin on her face that meant she wasn’t going anywhere until she had dessert.
“Can I get you ladies any dessert?” the server asked.
“Get the strawberry shortcake,” said the man from the next table. “It’s the best you ever tasted.”
“Are you part owner here?”
“Oh, no, just an old timer who doesn’t have anything else to do except have coffee and converse with travelers.”
It took a moment before I realized that the server was still standing there. “The strawberry shortcake sounds great.”
The server didn’t act irritated at all. I wondered if she was eavesdropping on our conversation, but surely she couldn’t have heard me from the back. I was overthinking things, but I did know how it was in small towns. Tawas wasn’t much different in that regard.
Our dessert was set down and I stared down at the ice cream. I had forgotten to tell the server I’d rather have it without, but luckily Eleanor offered to take it off my hands. I scooped the ice cream into her bowl and we finished our dessert within ten minutes. I then gazed around and now the server was nowhere to be found. I kept glancing toward the back, but didn’t see anyone.
The old timer chuckled. “That’s how Margo is. She never seems to remember to drop off the check.”
I stood up, plunking down thirty-five dollars and making way for the door. Margo chased after us. “I have your bill here.”
“The money is on the table.”
I waited while she counted the money. “But your bill was only twenty-five dollars.”
“Keep the change.”
“Oh, thank you. Business has been slow with that Birding Festival in Tawas. Have a great day.”
We left and I thought about how hard Margo’s life might really be. “I can’t imagine she makes that much waitressing in Au Gres,” Eleanor said.
“Sure not like the old days.”
I found Stanley Boulevard easy enough and was soon on Michigan Avenue, pulling into where Donald had lived with his mother Clara. Eleanor led the way to the door and rang the doorbell. The door was opened and a forty-something woman wearing jeans and a faded tee answered the door. “We’d like to speak to Clara Downey.”
“I’m Clara.”
“We’d like to speak to you about Donald.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Agnes and this is Eleanor. We’re private investigators.”
She sighed. “I don’t understand. Donald died in a car accident.”
“I’m aware that this looks like it was just a tragic accident, but I’d like to investigate it thoroughly before I’m satisfied.”
“Who hired you to look into the accident? I certainly can’t afford to pay you.”
“There’s no charge. I’d just like to tie up loose ends. Can we please come in and talk to you about Donald?”
She opened the door wide enough for us to enter. “Of course.”
Clara moved men’s clothing off the couch so we could sit. “Sorry. I’ve been gathering up Donald’s clothing to give to Goodwill.”
I raised a brow, but didn’t comment on what she had said, although I did feel it was very odd that his mother would be giving away his clothing this quickly. In fact, it was a major red flag for me.
I then examined the room. The furniture was all unmatched and worn on the arms. There was a television that was only nineteen inches with an antenna. I admired the framed pictures on the wall, all vibrant photographs of birds. “Wow, those are amazing pictures.”
“Yes, Donald was a good photographer. He took his bird watching
seriously.”
I walked over to the fireplace where there were photographs of what I thought must have been Donald when he was younger. None of the pictures had Clara in them, nor any man that might have been his father.
“Are you divorced from Donald’s father?”
“Nope, we were never married. Donald Senior died when Donald was only six months old.”
“I see.”
“He was quite the ice fisher and he was told countless times to not drive his truck on the ice that year when the lake ice began to thin.”
“So his truck fell through the ice?”
“Yes, and they weren’t able to find his body until spring.”
“That must have been hard, raising a child alone.”
“Yes, but I managed.”
I glanced back at the mantle and in the center was a picture of Donald with the three bird watchers we saw at the teahouse. “Who is in this picture?”
Clara walked over. “That’s Donald, Janice Saco, Aaron Chester, and Darin Card.”
“Do they happen to be in the club, the Bird Geeks?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“Katherine Watkins told us her daughter Mary was part of that club, too.”
“What do you mean, was?” she asked, with widened eyes.
“Perhaps we should sit down.”
Clara sat across from us and I said, “We’re looking into your son’s accident and early this morning, there was another accident in the same area where your son lost his life. Mary Watkins was killed in the wreck.”
Clara covered her face with her hands. “Oh, no!”
“Did you know Mary?”
Her hands dropped to her lap. “Yes, she was such a lovely young lady. Donald really seemed to like her, too.”
“Were they dating?”
“No, Donald was too afraid to ask her out. He thought she might leave the club and he just wasn’t willing to risk losing her as a friend.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes. Her mother must be beside herself. They had a close bond. She’s been over here for barbecues with the club. Me and Katherine took turns feeding the kids when they were all in town. It was quite a tight-knit group and like most twenty year olds, the members were scarce on money.”
“Are there more members besides the ones who you already mentioned?”
“No. I don’t think most people would want to be considered bird geeks.” She smiled. “I thought it was an odd name myself.”
“So, Donald didn’t have a girlfriend?”
“No. I could tell Janice liked him from the way she looked at him, but he never showed her any interest from what I know.”
“Did your son have any problems with the others in the club?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard.”
“I see. Sounds like she liked your son more than just as a member of the group.”
“If she did, Donald certainly never told me about it.”
“I see. Was there anyone you can think of who might want to harm your son?”
“No. Donald got along with everyone. He was a little shy, too.”
“Just not too shy to be in a bird watching club?”
“No, not at all.”
Eleanor was being too quiet. “Do you have anything you’d like to ask, Eleanor?”
“Oh, no. You’ve covered everything, but I do have one question. How was your relationship with your son?”
“What?” Clara asked.
“I was just wondering, too, why would your son need to borrow June Crawford’s car?” I asked.
Clara’s face darkened and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “What?”
“Didn’t you allow your son to drive your car?” I asked.
“No, he’s a horrible driver.”
“Then why did June Crawford say Donald drove you to your doctor appointments?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine, he just goes with me to see Mary. She meets him at the Garden View Coffee Mill. It’s a block from my doctor’s office.”
“Okay, let me see if I have this right,” I said. “Your son is a horrible driver, but you’ll allow him to drive an elderly woman home?”
“She only lives a few miles from the doctor’s office.”
“So were you planning to pick him up there?”
“No, he said he could have someone pick him up.”
“I see. So when were you aware that he borrowed June’s car?”
“When the sheriff showed up to tell me Donald had died in a car accident.”
“One thing I don’t understand,” Eleanor began. “I thought you said Donald and Mary weren’t dating?”
“They were only friend to my knowledge.”
“And you’re positive that’s all they were to each other.”
“Yes, I told you as much. How many times do you need to ask me the same question?”
Neither Eleanor nor I responded to Clara’s question as a loud engine was heard outside. I got up to see what it was. A GMC truck with lifter pulled in and whoever was driving it revved the engine. “I hate to cut this short, but my boyfriend is here. He’s taking me into Tawas for the Birding Festival. I have a friend who has a beach house right on Lake Huron and we’re having a party.”
Was that why she was so eager to get rid of Donald’s clothing? Was it because she was a partier with a boyfriend who meant more to her than her son? She certainly didn’t share any memories of her son that involved them together.
“How did Donald feel about your boyfriend?” Eleanor asked. “Did Donald approve of your relationship?”
“I’m sure he had more on his mind than what I’m doing or not doing.”
I couldn’t drop the feeling that there might have been problems between Donald and Clara’s boyfriend. It was a feeling I just couldn’t shake.
We made way out the door and I marched over to the truck, knocking on the driver’s window. “Hello there.” I knocked again. “Hello there.”
Eleanor then slapped on the window much harder and it was suddenly powered down. “What can I do for you old ladies?”
“I was hoping you could give me your name. We’re investigating Donald’s accident.”
The toothpick in the silver haired man’s mouth jumped as he chomped on it. “You’re too old to be cops.”
Eleanor snorted but so far, she held her cool.
“You know, we heard a report that a large GMC truck was seen in the vicinity of Donald’s accident,” I said.
“Who are you people?”
“I’m Agnes Barton and this is my partner, Eleanor Mason. We’re private investigators and have every right to investigate this case if we feel something isn’t right about it.”
“Suit yourself, but leave me out of it.”
“So, what do you have to say about your truck being in the vicinity of the accident?”
“My truck? You think I’m the only one in Tawas who has a GMC Truck?”
“Oh, do you live in Tawas?”
“Yes,” he groaned between gritted teeth.
“I don’t recognize you,” Eleanor said.
“Oh, and I suppose you know everyone who lives in Tawas personally?”
“Of course not.”
“We’ll be happy to let you go on your way after you answer a few questions,” I promised.
“And what would stop me from just backing out of here and being on my way?”
“Nothing, but I’d have to call Sheriff Peterson and report your license plate number, which my partner Eleanor is jotting down.”
Sure enough, Eleanor was keying the number into her cell phone. “Got it.” She then walked back to my side.
“I’m sorry, Stephan. They just showed up, telling me they were investigators. They just started asking questions about Donald’s death. I don’t think they believe his death was an accident.”
“I beg to disagree. I’ve seen the wreckage. Don’t let them fill your head full of nonsense. The sheriff told you he died in an acciden
t. What else could it be?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” I replied.
“Would you have a reason to want to harm Donald?” Eleanor asked.
“No, I really liked Donald, even if he was a bird watcher. Not a very manly hobby.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I know plenty of smart and cultured men who do that,” I insisted.
“If you say so.”
“So, how did Donald feel about you dating his mom?”
“How would I know? I’m not a mind reader.”
It was clear I wasn’t going to get anything out of either Clara or Stephan, but I asked Clara one more question. “Would you have any reason to want your son dead, Clara?”
Her face reddened. “No!” Clara cried. “Get out of here. I’m not answering any more of your questions.”
Clara hopped in the truck and Stephan backed up, smashing into the corner panel of the LX! He never stopped, only sped off down the street.
Chapter Ten
“Oh, great. What am I going to tell Andrew?”
“That a suspect took off after he ran into Andrew’s vehicle?”
I just shook my head. “How will I possibly explain this when I don’t even understand it myself?”
“It’s your husband. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
I threw up my hands. “Fine, then.”
We first examined the dent and it was apparent we wouldn’t be able to pound it out ourselves. “Too bad we don’t know someone who could fix the LX before Andrew saw it,” Eleanor suggested.
“I know.” I groaned.
Eleanor frowned. “Shouldn’t we call the police? I mean, it has to be illegal to just slam into another person’s car, damaging it and leaving the scene. Even if this is private property.”
“You’re right.”
I called 9-1-1 and we waited nearly an hour before a state police cruiser pulled in. The officer climbed out of the car and approached us, asking, “What seems to be the problem?”
“The problem is I was here visiting Clara Downey and her boyfriend showed up, smashing into my LX.”
“And he drove off,” Eleanor added.
“Do you happen to know his name and what he was driving?”
Birds of a Feather (An Agnes Barton Senior Sleuth Mystery Book 9) Page 9
