Cause for Murder

by Betty Sullivan La Pierre

  "Sure.” Then Richard held up a hand and chuckled. “I better ask first, what am I getting into?"

  "Helping me repair Mrs. Parker's house. Her husband died and the place is in dire need of attention. Mostly minor repairs and painting."

  Richard's eyes opened wide. “Is that Maryann's mother?"

  Sam nodded.

  "I read about the police finding a Mr. Parker dead in a motel room. But I didn't connect the name to Maryann's family. Sure, I'll be glad to help."

  Sam glanced at him suspiciously. “You seem awfully familiar with Maryann. What's the deal?

  "I like her. We spent Memorial Day together in town. Went to the parade and the church picnic later. She's really nice."

  Sam felt his neck hair bristle. His mind flashed back to the conversation he'd had with her on their way home. When he'd mentioned Richard, she gave the impression she barely knew him. And now he finds out she's playing her little game again, this time with his best friend's feelings. A guy who'd probably dated very little, if at all. And with Maryann's looks, if she gave him just a little attention, he'd fall hard. Sam suddenly lost his appetite.

  * * * *

  Later that evening, when Sam returned home, he lingered longer than usual in the garage, then finally went inside. Without a word of greeting to Jennifer, he sat down in Hawkman's swivel chair and picked up a hunting magazine.

  She glanced over the top of the computer and studied his somber expression. “What's the matter. Didn't the bike perform like you expected?"

  "The cycle rode like a dream.” He closed the magazine and slammed it down on the table. Turning the chair toward the window, he stared out over the lake.

  "Well, something's definitely bothering you."

  "Yeah, Richard."

  Jennifer moved away from the computer and crossed into the living room to her chair. “Is he okay?"

  "He's fine, but very naive about girls."

  She reached over and touched his knee. “I'm not following you."

  Twisting the chair around to face her, he let out an audible sigh. Then he told her the story about Richard and Maryann on Memorial Day. “She's at it again with one of my friends. This time with a guy who knows little about women."

  "Now, don't get upset. It sounds pretty much like an innocent meeting. There probably weren't a lot of kids their own ages around that weekend and they just spent some friendly time together. I wouldn't worry too much."

  "I'd like to believe it, but I can tell Richard's already fallen. I could see it in his eyes. He can hardly wait for this coming weekend so we can start working on the Parker's house."

  Jennifer shrugged. “Could turn out for the best. He'll be around Maryann and see what's she's really like."

  Sam got up and paced the floor. “Now, I wish I'd never offered to do that job.” Then he stopped. “Wait, Maryann told me not to even consider it until she knew he mother's plans. Maybe the whole thing will fall through. She said she'd call.” He looked at Jennifer with raised brows.

  She shook her head. “No calls."

  * * * *

  Sam spent the next few days enjoying a life of leisure. He fished with Jennifer off the dock and caught an eighteen inch trout. The next day they took the boat up the river where he caught a nice mess of yellow perch and another good-size trout. On Wednesday, Hawkman came home early and they took Pretty Girl up to the Clifford's for a hunt. Richard accompanied them to the knoll. Hawkman let him put the falcon on his arm and give her the whistle commands. Richard seemed pleased to discover the falcon hadn't forgotten him.

  Later that afternoon, Sam, joined Jennifer on the dock to do some fishing and decided to dive in for a refreshing swim. He broke the surface quickly, his teeth chattering. “Man, is this water cold."

  Jennifer laughed. “It hasn't had time to warm up yet. Give it until the end of July or August. Then you can really enjoy a dip."

  He climbed onto the dock and huddled under the towel for a few minutes. “That gave me a bit of a shock. I'd forgotten how frigid this lake can get.” He pointed to the tree across the short span of lake from the dock. “Look, there's Ossy on that limb, just waiting for you to throw him a fish."

  She glanced up at the tree. “I wish. I haven't seen Ossy in over a year. That one's either his son or another osprey who found a good hunting perch. I've never been able to coach him down like I did Ossy."

  "Do you think he died?"

  "I hope not. Maybe he's just relocated to another area."

  "Me, too. Oh, by the way, have there been any calls from Maryann?"

  Jennifer shook her head. “No."

  "I guess I better get in touch with her. See if her mother's going to live there or move. If she's going to stay, I'll need to go into town tomorrow and get supplies. Sure hope the merchants will consider giving me some free paint and stuff."

  Jennifer reeled in her line to put on fresh bait. “Once you're sure, let me know. I have some places in mind that just might be willing to help."

  Sam's eyes lit up. “Great. It'll save me a bundle."

  Jennifer smiled as she cast her line, then watched her son jog up the gangplank and hurdle a large limb on the lawn Hawkman had pulled out of the lake to dry. It made her proud that Sam kept his commitment, even though it didn't make him very happy. That builds character, she thought, as her attention returned to the tug she felt on her fishing line.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Richard finished his day's work at the horse ranch, drove home, showered and changed his smelly clothes. Afterwards, he went outside and strolled toward the gate leading into the larger pasture. Whitey, his devoted steed, who'd shed tears with him when his mother was so brutally murdered, galloped toward the fence, bobbing his head. Richard tried to imagine how the animal sounded.

  He lovingly ran a hand down the horse's head and nose. Of course, Whitey always knew his master stored an apple in his pocket and the minute Richard climbed upon the gate, the critter nudged his side. Laughing, Richard pulled out the treat as he grabbed the horse's mane, and hoisted himself upon the animal's back. Whitey chomped the sweet morsel as he turned and trotted toward the river.

  Richard guided the horse to one of his special spots overlooking the cascades. He dismounted and left Whitey at the top of the bank. Keeping an eye out for rattlesnakes, he wound his way down the incline toward a favorite rock. He loved the sight of the rushing water. Occasionally, he'd catch a glimpse of a trout leaping above the rapids, making him smile as he remembered the many times he'd fished here.

  Taking his buck knife from his pocket and a small piece of wood, he sat down on the rock and whittled the image of a small fish, just big enough to go on the end of a key chain. As he worked on the finishing touches, Richard kept thinking about his earlier bike ride with Sam. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself, and thought his friend had also, at least in the beginning. Then Sam's mood turned solemn when he told him about being with Maryann on Memorial Day. He wondered why. Did he have a crush on her, too?

  It had eased his mind somewhat when Sam and Hawkman showed up at the house with Pretty Girl. He went with them to the knoll and had a great time with the falcon. She even remembered his way of whistling and didn't balk at his monotone voice. Sam appeared friendly and joyful as usual, and asked again if he'd help him on the Parker place. They made plans and Sam said he would notify him as soon as he'd set a time with Mrs. Parker.

  The shadows were deepening and Richard figured he'd better get back to the house and help Uncle Joe with the evening chores. He whistled for Whitey and climbed back up the grade. Richard tapped the horse's chest and the steed lowered himself on his front knees so he could climb onto his back with ease. They rode at a slow gallop and Richard realized how much he loved the farm. It made him happy that he could come home every other weekend.

  He'd worked the summer after graduating from high school at the Zankers in exchange for a pickup they'd stored in their garage. It only had a few thousand miles on the speedometer. After Uncle Joe put in new pl
ugs, and tweaked it a bit, it ran as smooth as silk. It gave Richard the transportation he needed for traveling to and from college.

  He brought Whitey into the barn and gave him a good brushing and some grain, then turned him loose in the pasture. Strolling toward the back door of the house, he could smell something mighty good cooking in the kitchen.

  Uncle Joe had been a blessing. He'd taken charge and insisted upon Richard finishing high school, then going on to college. The whole piece of property had benefited from his touch. Richard could never thank him enough.

  "Hmm, something sure smells good,” he said, entering the back door.

  Uncle Joe grinned and glanced at him as he stirred the big pot. “I've made the stew of stews, my lad. Plus a batch of bread that will make your mouth water. It smelled so good when I took it from the oven, I had to try a slice."

  He licked his lips. “Delicious."

  Richard washed his hands and set the table. “How long will it be. My stomach is already grumbling."

  "About fifteen minutes."

  "I hope I can wait that long."

  Uncle Joe laughed. “You won't perish."

  "Oh, where's Betsy? I didn't see her in the pasture."

  "I'm getting her bred with one of Zanker's prize bulls. By the time you get out of school next year, we'll have a new calf. Let's hope it's a bull. Then we might be able to make a little extra money."

  "Hey, that's neat."

  Richard went into his bedroom and checked his phone. He had a text message from Sam. “Yes for weekend.” He grinned. Now, he'd be able to try his luck with Maryann. Then he frowned. What if she's going to summer school. He shrugged. Well, at least she won't leave until after her dad's funeral. This would give him a chance to watch Sam's behavior toward her and clarify whether he had a crush on Maryann too. If not, he'd try to make headway with the girl. Then he dropped the phone on the bed and glanced in the mirror. In his infatuated state he'd forgotten about his handicap. His looks were presentable, but what girl would want to go out with a deaf guy? He took a deep breath and marched into the kitchen. “Is it ready yet?"

  * * * *

  Lilly Parker pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair as she watched her daughter finish her meal.

  "I enjoyed your cooking very much. You've gotten pretty good over the past few years."

  Maryann smiled. “Thanks. I got tired of fast food and the cafeteria at school is horrible. So, I decided to prepare my own meals. Took a while to get the hang of it, but it sure tastes better."

  "Tell me about these two boys who want to fix up the house. I recognized Sam Casey's name, but don't remember Richard Clifford. Even though his name sounds familiar."

  After refreshing her mother's memory, Maryann picked up the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. “You have to admit, Mom, this place looks pretty shabby."

  Lilly nodded. “True, but what's in it for them?"

  Maryann glanced at her mother. “I don't understand what you mean."

  "Do they want money? I can't afford to pay them."

  Waving her hand and shaking her head, Maryann sat back down. “No, no, they just want to do it as a goodwill gesture. I think Sam feels sorry for you because Burke died and now you don't have a man around to do repairs."

  Lilly put a hand to her mouth and stifled a laugh. “Burke never lifted a finger to keep up this place. The little bit of money he gave me hardly paid for food, much less paint or equipment for repairs. I think he spent most of it on booze.” Lilly brushed a few crumbs from her uniform. “Where will they get the supplies they need?"

  "Sam mentioned asking some of the merchants in town to help out."

  Throwing back her head, Lilly chortled. “I wish him luck."

  Maryann stared at her. “Why do you say that? You've lived here most of your life. The people in this town know you're a good person. Why wouldn't they pitch in and help?"

  "People in small towns love to gossip. Burke blabbed a lot when he got drunk. He spouted off to anyone who'd listen about how his woman had an Indian lover. When you were two or three years old, he made no bones about pointing out your black hair and dark brown eyes. “That sure ain't no kid of mine,” he'd scoff. It got to the point when I walked down the street, people crossed the road so as not to brush by me.” She let out a sigh. “If I'd had the money, I'd have taken you and left this tacky place years ago."

  "Didn't Maduk want you?"

  Lilly's gaze dropped to the floor as she wound a loose thread from her dress seam around her finger. “Yes. But I couldn't do that to him. His people were already upset about him consorting with a married white woman. They would never have accepted me. However, they'd have kept you and raised you as one of their own. I couldn't have stood that."

  "You must have loved him a lot."

  "I did. He treated us with gentle kindness."

  "Have you seen him since Burke died?"

  "No.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  Maryann's eyes narrowed. “Why?"

  Lilly glanced at her watch and stood. “Oh, my, I must get ready for work."

  Jumping up, Maryann grabbed her mother's arm. “You're already dressed. Answer my question."

  She pulled her arm away. “I haven't seen Maduk in six months. One night he watched through the bedroom window and saw Burke beat and rape me. He broke down the front door and dashed into the room with his knife drawn. I had to stand between the two men or Maduk would have killed Burke on the spot. This town would have hung your father from the nearest tree. I pleaded with him to leave. He finally cooled down, and told Burke if he ever laid another hand on me, he'd slice him to pieces. That's the last time I saw him."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Friday morning, Sam drove into Yreka and stopped at the Parker's, but found no one home. He surveyed the outside of the house and took notes on items that he thought he'd need. While in the back yard, he heard a noise and glanced down the alley. Two houses away, where the corner of a fence jutted out, shadowed by a large tree, he noticed a man with a long beard shaking out a blanket. Sam watched as he folded it into a square and placed it inside a large plastic bag, which he flung over his shoulder. The man looked vaguely familiar and Sam believed him to be the same vagrant he'd spotted on the day he brought Maryann home. He wondered if she knew such a fellow had made his habitat so near their house. Shaking his head, Sam brought his attention back to his notepad and continued his calculations.

  After leaving the Parker place, he made the rounds of different paint shops and lumber yards where he'd worked or knew the owners personally. All donated items, but a couple of the proprietors made derogatory remarks under their breath about the Parkers. Sam felt a bit uneasy, but he pretended he didn't hear or understand, and instead, thanked them for their generous contributions.

  As he drove back to Maryann's house, he wondered why the townspeople rejected the family. Did they dislike all of them? Sometimes the human race baffled Sam. He chose not to try and figure it out or he'd be frustrated the whole summer.

  He hoped one of the Parker women would be home as he wanted to leave the construction items at their place instead of toting them back to the lake. When he got within sight of the house, he breathed a sigh of relief seeing an old Oldsmobile station wagon parked in the driveway. He knew a little about cars and figured it to be a 1988 Firenza. It made him wonder if this was the one Maryann hid in the first time she met her real father.

  He parked in the front and before he could get a leg out, Mrs. Parker, dressed in a pale blue uniform with a frilly white apron, hurried out the door of the house and headed for the car. Jumping out of his pickup, he scurried around the rear of the Toyota. “Mrs. Parker,” he called.

  She whirled around and put a hand to her chest. “Oh, you startled me."

  "Sorry,” Sam said holding out his hand as he approached her. “My name's Sam Casey. I don't know if you remember me or not. Maryann and I went to high school together and are now attending the same college."

  "Ye
s, I remember you well. In fact, Maryann told me you and your friend were going to do some repairs on this place.” She turned around and eyed the house.

  Sam shifted his position “Maryann said it was all right with you."

  She ducked her head. “Umm, but I can't pay you."

  "Don't worry, Mrs. Parker. We don't want money. We're doing this to help you."

  She peered into his eyes. “Not many around here have that attitude.” Glancing at her watch, she opened the car door. “Oh, my, I better get to work or I'll be late."

  Sam pointed toward the porch. “Is it okay if I stack the lumber and supplies under there? Richard and I will be here in the morning to start work.

  Hesitating, she lifted a hand and shaded her eyes. “Yes, that'll be okay.” Then she glanced at him. “You'll be here tomorrow morning?"

  "Is that inconvenient?"

  She waved a hand and shook her head. “No, no, that'll be fine."

  He turned and headed for the truck.

  After she left, Sam backed into the driveway, donned a pair of gloves and unloaded the lumber.

  "My gosh, are you going to rebuild the house?"

  The voice startled Sam and he bumped his head as he raised up from underneath the porch. “Ouch,” he said, rubbing his crown.

  Maryann hung over the railing, grinning. “Sorry. Didn't mean to alarm you."

  "Hi. I just assumed you weren't here after your mom left.” He tugged off the work gloves and stuck them into his back jeans pocket.

  "I was in the shower and didn't see you drive up."

  Sam scooted a large box of screws out of the truck bed and placed it beside the lumber. He then removed a long span of gutter, along with a couple of sacks filled with brackets and set them under the porch. “Well, that about does it for now,” he said, dusting off his hands. He looked up at Maryann. “Richard and I will be here early in the morning."

  "Great. Want to come in for a glass of ice tea?"

  He shook his head. “No thanks. I've got lots to do. See you tomorrow."

  * * * *

  Maryann, fists on her hips, watched Sam drive away. “Well, he certainly wasn't in a friendly mood,” she muttered. Heading back into the house, she slowly closed the door, her mind still on Sam. When she turned around, her hands flew to her throat and she gasped. “Maduk, you scared me to death."