Left Fur Dead

by J. M. Griffin

“I did.”

  “He might not have been planning to burn it down, but he set off a couple smoke grenades. I’m glad I had the roof vent installed. It sucks all the nasty smells out of the barn when I turn it on. That’s what saved the rabbits. Thanks for protecting them and us.”

  He shrugged, handed me the filled mug, and said nothing.

  “Are you Arty’s son?”

  He turned his head, gave me a long look, and admitted he was. “My mother left Arty when I was around four years old. She died of a heart attack not long after we moved away. I was put into care, a nightmare no matter how you look at it, while the authorities searched for relatives. When they couldn’t find any, I was put up for adoption. I was lucky enough to have a nice couple take me in and raise me as their own.”

  “You were fortunate.”

  “I’m sure Arty was aware somebody wanted to ruin you and your farm. He wasn’t functioning on all gears toward the end of his life, but if he’d been sensible enough and gone to the police with what he knew, I think Carver would have believed him.”

  “That’s a possibility. I do wish he’d told me, though. All I ever got from Arty was ranting and raving, anger, and a bit of violence. Now that I know he had brain cancer in advanced stages, it all makes sense.”

  “I know this is only theory on my part, but your intruder might have thought he couldn’t take any chances on Arty having a lucid period and took him out of the picture before he could report what he knew. I really think that was the case, Jules.”

  “I agree. Have you any ideas about the intruder? Where he might live, why he’s doing this to me? Anything at all?”

  “I don’t know the man and never fully saw him until last night. Could he be connected to the farm in some obscure way?”

  “Not that I know of. I didn’t recognize him, but he was somehow familiar to me. Why is that, I wonder? Could he have been a friend to one of my employees?”

  “It’s worth considering. Tell Carver, I know he’s anxious for a break in the case. He came by and yammered on about it yesterday. He’s a good man, Jules, and has your best interests at heart. He’ll investigate any and all information that comes his way.”

  We talked until the sun rose high.

  “This guy may have used smoke grenades, but he also wanted to set fire to the farm. We scuffled a bit before he knocked himself out on pipe supporting a cage.”

  “I have no plans of telling the sheriff or anyone else what we’ve talked about today. I’ll keep your presence at the barn to myself. The last thing you need is to be arrested, and the sheriff shouldn’t be sidetracked from his investigation, either. I will say this, if any of this comes to light, and you’re arrested, I will testify on your behalf. But . . .”

  “I know, you want me to tell the sheriff that Arty is my father. I’ll give it some thought.”

  I left him at the campsite knowing it wasn’t likely that he’d confess to being Arty’s son, or to anything else that had to do with my farm. I’d made a promise and wouldn’t break it.

  Arriving at the house, I found the farm swarming with people. Jessica and Molly were amidst a mad frenzy of shoppers interested in a fire sale. I stood on a bench in the back of the yarn studio and yelled for quiet.

  “There was no fire, there is no fire sale. Our goods were not damaged in the least, nor were the rabbits. If you wish to make purchases, know this, nothing is on sale.”

  Half the crowd departed, their faces filled with disappointment. The other half bought merchandise and was excited to do so. Some had never been to the studio and registered for spinning classes. Happy to have the business, I smiled, took their class fees, rang up purchases while Molly bagged what they bought, and then realized Jessica had scooted into the clinic.

  Shooing Molly off to help Jess, I handled the remaining shoppers and blew a sigh of relief when the last one left. Bun, who had squatted in a corner of the room, taking all the action in, came over to me and rubbed his ears against my ankle.

  “You’ve been gone a long time. Are you all right?”

  “I went to see Andrew at dawn. We had quite the conversation. He’s Arty’s son, just as we thought.”

  “We’re brilliant, aren’t we? I knew they were related.” Bun attempted a backflip, but didn’t quite make it.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “I used to do backflips with no problem. I must be eating too much and getting fluffy like you. I think we need a diet, Jules.”

  I leaned in and whispered, “You wouldn’t last a day.”

  “I know.” His whiskers jittered and then he asked, “Are you going to tell the sheriff about Andrew?”

  “I promised not to, but said he should admit the connection to Jack before it comes to light and causes problems.”

  “You smell like pickles. Have you showered lately?”

  “Not today, but I will now. Glad you told me, I must have gotten used to the odor. I couldn’t smell it on me at all.” I scurried into the house, took the stairs two at a time, and scrubbed my skin with hot water and soap until I glowed bright pink. My hair clean, a quick blow-dry, I dressed in fresh jeans and a work shirt and went into the barn to see the rabbits.

  * * *

  A couple days later, Andrew showed up at the farm. Surprised to see him, I finished my chore and asked what he wanted.

  “A ride to see Carver would be nice.”

  I washed my hands, changed from boots to sneakers, tossed the plastic apron into the trash, and grabbed my car keys on the way out the door. Leaving Bun behind, we drove into town and I parked in the rear lot of the police station.

  “Would you like me to come in?”

  “I know you can hardly keep your curiosity from taking over, so yeah, please do.”

  We sat side by side in front of Jack’s desk. He surveyed us with a quizzical look, then asked, “What can I do for you today, either of you?”

  “Jules gave me a ride into town, she doesn’t have any business with you, I do. I am Arty’s son, his only son.”

  Jack leaned back in his squeaky chair, rocked a bit, and said, “I thought that might be the case. Why tell me now instead of in the beginning?” He shuffled papers in order and set them aside. Then he handed a manila envelope to Andrew and said he should take a look at what the envelope held.

  As he flipped from one page to the next, I caught bits and pieces of what the documents said. Andrew’s mother had taken her maiden name back when she and Andrew left Arty. The sheriff had made the connection and let it slide due to not having enough time to question him in the past day or so.

  “I should arrest you for the murder of your father.”

  I leaned forward. “He’s not guilty and you know it.”

  “How do you know, Juliette?”

  “My gut says so. Andrew’s had more than enough time to kill his father and destroy my business, but he hasn’t done either.”

  “You still haven’t answered the question,” Carver murmured.

  “I can’t explain it, I just know he’s innocent.”

  “You need to give me at least a kernel of something to go on, or I’ll have to arrest this man.”

  The threat was empty, all three of us knew it. Carver was pushing me to remember a crumb of information, so he could dismiss us and continue his search for the real killer. I slumped back in my chair, propped my elbows on my knees, and cupped my face in my hands. Eyes closed, I mentally squeezed my brain for a nugget of truth to give the man.

  I’d held my breath without realizing it. About to explode for lack of oxygen, I exhaled and sucked in air. I said, “The only clue I have is that one of my employees is connected to the intruder. He’s also your killer, sheriff.”

  “Which employee would that be, Juliette?”

  “I don’t know, but you do, don’t you? You’ve been sitting here working it all out these last couple of days.”

  “Don’t get upset, it’s more conjecture. Together we can discover the proof we need and bring these people to
justice. I have officers checking your employees, their friends, families, and their backgrounds. Everything I can think of is being investigated. This has gone on too long, Jules, and the chief is on my back. Stone, you can leave, but stay in the area until this case is closed.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  Before we walked out, I asked, “Who was the man in my barn? Have you identified him yet?”

  “He’s still unconscious. He took a serious hit when he landed against that post in your barn.”

  “If he regains consciousness, let me know.”

  “You got it.”

  We left the station and drove to Arty’s place. The key had been put back in its place and I used it to open the door. I waited in the kitchen while Andrew walked around, giving the house a good look. When he returned to me, we left, locking the door and putting the key on the ledge.

  “I don’t think I’ll live there. Instead, I’ll sell the place and move on.”

  I didn’t ask why, it was none of my concern. There could be bad memories that plagued him from his young childhood in that house. After all, if his mother left Arty, she must have had good reason.

  We went our separate ways after our arrival at the farm. I entered the farmhouse while Andrew drifted off into the woods.

  Over supper, Jessica and I discussed what had happened at the sheriff’s office.

  “You mean that Carver already knew Andrew was related to Arty and kept it to himself? What nerve. Now he’s investigating everyone here at the farm and their families and friends, as well? Is there no privacy left in life?”

  “Why are you so disconcerted about it? I think it’ll clear everything up and put an end to all this nonsense.”

  “True, but I don’t like it when they poke their noses where they don’t belong.”

  “I understand, but it’s important to solve this mystery.”

  “I guess, but what if the sheriff doesn’t come up with the killer, then we’ll never solve this case.”

  “Don’t be silly, we’re going to keep him on track, I can feel it in my bones.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Expecting some normalcy to return, I was surprised to hear from Carver day after day, as if he thought I had a crystal ball that would help him solve his murder case. I began to grow annoyed. With no choice but to answer his calls, I was certain that if I didn’t, he’d drive out to bug me in person. His boss pressuring him was the only reasonable explanation I had for his continuous interruptions.

  “Have you spoken to the intruder, now that he’s conscious? I called the hospital today and they said you’d been in to see him.”

  “I saw him briefly. That was my reason for calling, yet again, today. His name is Grady. Ben Grady.”

  The name of the man gave me pause. “He’s my intruder? You have to question him, don’t be nice, just beat the truth out of him if need be. I know he killed Arty. My farm, this Grady fellow, and Arty are all connected. Have you finished checking my employees yet?”

  “I’ve gathered almost all the information I’ve asked for, why?”

  “I need to know which employee he’s associated with. It could be a matter of life and death, Jack. My life or death.”

  I hung up without waiting for him to speak. Good golly, couldn’t he get a move on? I had to know in order to protect myself, Jessica, and the rabbits. My pacing got on Bun’s nerves until he couldn’t hold back any longer.

  “You’re a wreck. Let’s go for a walk, it’ll do you good to be out in the fresh air. Besides, if you aren’t here, Carver can’t annoy you, can he?”

  The rabbit had a point. We went into the house, where I slipped the sling around my neck and strapped it across one shoulder. Once Bun scrambled inside, we went into the shop to let Lizzy, who had arrived out of the blue and worked for the day, and Jessica know we were taking a walk.

  “Where are you going?” Lizzy asked.

  “To the lake and back. It’s a nice walk, and I could use the fresh air.”

  “Was that the sheriff on the phone earlier?”

  “He’s driving me nuts. But yes, it was him, that’s part of the reason I should go walking.”

  Her chuckle light, she said, “Have fun.”

  I set off at a good pace, Bun kept up a constant stream of chatter over inconsequential topics. He was doing his best to help me relax, and I appreciated his efforts.

  Our route the same, we traveled farther than usual. The sun, bright and warm, the breeze sweet with the fragrance of the forest just beyond the beach, I retraced our steps to return to the farm. We’d come to the spot where I’d found Arty’s body, when I noticed Lizzy sitting in her car in front of the chained fence. When I waved, she smiled and stepped from the driver’s seat.

  “The sheriff called and wants to see you right away. Jessica still has patients, so I offered to give you a ride. Molly is helping her until we get back. Hop in.”

  We climbed over the fence and got into the front passenger seat of her car.

  “Did the sheriff say what’s so important?”

  Lizzy backed up and turned the car toward town. “There’s been a break in the investigation and he wants your help.”

  My mind flew over the possibilities, one of which was if this was so important, why hadn’t Carver called my cell phone? Bun popped his head out of the sling to watch Lizzy, his regard intent.

  “I’ve always liked Lizzy, but I sense she’s different somehow. Beware of her, Jules, she might be lying to you.”

  His astute senses never failed, and hadn’t this time either. I didn’t believe a word Lizzy said, and wondered what she was up to.

  We struck up a conversation about the shop and sales. All the while, Bun issued warnings that something was amiss. Knowing he was right, I smoothed his ears and stroked the fur on his head, hoping to assure him.

  At the intersection, the light turned green. Lizzy turned in the opposite direction, away from the police station.

  “You missed the turn.”

  “I have to make a stop first, you don’t mind, do you? It won’t take a minute, I promise.”

  “Sure.”

  We passed the park where Bun and I had been assaulted. About to mention the incident to Lizzy, she glanced at me and said, “Isn’t that where you two were set upon by a man who thought he killed you? You were lucky to have survived it.”

  Knowing neither Jess nor I had explained the episode, I merely said, “You’ve got that right.”

  Alarm bells weren’t the only thing going off in my head. Bun was struggling to get free of the sling, while still warning of the danger we were in. I slipped the sling from around my neck, let the buckle slide down, and dropped the loose fabric into my lap.

  “There now, be still, Bun.”

  Lizzy gawked as though I’d lost what marbles remained in my head. In my own mind, I knew we were in danger from this woman. Wanting to deny it, I couldn’t.

  Bun’s paws and upper body protruded from the sling as he wiggled to make sure he could get away. Suddenly still, Bun said, “I’m ready to make our escape when you are, Jules.”

  “So, Lizzy, how do you know my intruder?”

  Her laughter evil, Lizzy answered, “I thought you’d never work out my connection to Ben. We’re siblings, of course.”

  “But . . .”

  “I was married and then divorced, but use my married name. Ben and I are Gradys, does the name sound familiar to you?”

  “Not really. I’ll have to give it some thought. How do you know Bailey Kimball?”

  “She had an affair with Ben. Thought she would marry him, until I put a stop to it. She resents me for their breakup, but that’s too bad. She would have gotten between me and my brother and what we are entitled to. Bailey is all about honesty and such. If she’d found out about Ben’s activities at the farm, well, she’d have turned us in. No one is going to do that, not ever, not even you.”

  “Arty knew your brother was my intruder, didn’t he? He was also aware you were behin
d what was happening at my farm.”

  “He was an interfering fool. Ben had to get rid of him before he became a liability. So, he did.”

  “Why me? Why my farm? I don’t understand.”

  “We want the farm, of course. I knew you’d never sell, and that by ruining your business and burning the farm to the ground, you’d be dead. The land would then hit the real estate market, where it would sell for a mere pittance of its true worth.”

  “Why this particular farm?”

  “Because, cuz, we’re related to you.”

  “We are not, I’d know if that were so. You’re lying.” While I’d thrown out the accusation, I wasn’t sure if I was right. Could she and Ben be related to me? How?

  Her grin was as evil as her laughter. Lizzy withdrew folded papers from her pocket and flung them at me. The woman was unhinged. How had Bun and I not noticed something so evident?

  “How could we know? She gave a stellar performance every time we saw her.”

  I straightened the papers and read them quickly while Bun insisted Lizzy’s story had a ring of truth. I’d reached the last page of the documents and saw my father’s name, alongside that of a woman with the last name of Grady.

  “My father and your mother are siblings?”

  Memories flashed through my brain as I thought about my family. While I had been away at private school and then at college, I hadn’t been able to get home as often as I’d wanted. Throughout my childhood, I hadn’t been aware of strangers coming to our house. Only after we’d moved to the farm did I see a couple arrive in a car that had seen better days. Upstairs in my bedroom at the time, I watched from my window.

  The driver, a man with a limp, was accompanied by a woman. They’d come to the door, but hadn’t been allowed inside. I’d heard arguing, the front door slammed, and then they drove away. Having asked my father who these people were, he put me off by saying they were salespeople. My mother refused to discuss it when I approached the subject while we were shopping. Were they Lizzy’s parents? Why had my father been so mean to them? What had caused the rift between him and his sister? I needed to know.

  “My parents always dreamed of a life on the farm, especially my father. Dad was obsessed with it, but had always been refused by our grandparents, right up until the day he passed away. A few years later, our grandparents sold the farm to your parents. My brother and I approached your father with an offer for it. They flatly refused, saying that when you recovered from your accident, you would have the farm and they’d move to a warmer climate.”