"We've talked about this. I can't put more than two other people in my truck. There isn't room. And I can't really put two other adults up there. I have to have something different."
He shrugged. "Then let's go. That sounds like fun. It's been ages since I've looked at cars. You really want something new?"
"I don't care. Used is fine. I just need to haul people and animals and stuff."
"Well, let's get going. This should be fun!"
They went downstairs and got in his truck. Polly looked at her father's pickup a little forlornly. It was still a mess from yesterday's encounter with the ditch. She wasn't prepared to get rid of it. "I can't sell Dad's truck," she said quietly.
"Oh honey, you don't have to. We'll figure something out. It's still in really good shape and extremely useful. Eliseo and I will find a place to park it."
"Thank you. I just can't bear to part with it."
"I know. It's fine."
He drove past Sycamore Inn. There were a few cars in front. Jeff was easing them into being hoteliers. They hadn't hired someone to manage the Inn, so reservations were still being made out of the office at Sycamore House.
Henry pulled into a parking place in front of the lodge. The outside was beautiful and the landscaping was beginning to take hold. They had opened just before school started, even though there was still work to be done.
"Do you want to wait out here or come inside?" he asked.
"I'm fine here. How long?"
"Just a few minutes. I want to look over their work and I'll be right back."
"I can keep myself occupied."
Henry gave a visible shudder. "Please don't get into trouble. You make me nervous when you say things like that."
"I've never found a body in the same place twice." Polly winked at him. "Go on. I'll be good and stay right here in the truck."
"Don't you move." He got out and ran up the sidewalk to the front door, unlocked it and went inside.
Polly chuckled. He was so darned cute. She took out her phone and started flipping through apps, checking email and social networks. There was nothing interesting going on, so she texted Sal. "Hey bright eyes. What 'cha doing?"
"Go away. I'm writing." Sal came right back.
"What 'cha writing?"
"Go away! I'm working."
"You're no fun. Where's your boyfriend?"
"He's working. Am I going to have to lose this thought or are you going to be good?"
Polly sighed. This wasn't any fun. "I'm going to be good. You're a meanie."
"I love you too. Talk to you later."
She wasn't going to text Joss or Sylvie. Joss was busy with babies and Sylvie was probably trying to get herself to Sycamore House for work. Who else could she bother?
Lydia was in Dayton all weekend taking care of her grandkids while her daughter and son-in-law were at a wedding in Colorado. Beryl was in Boston until Monday and Len and Andy were in Wisconsin doing some sort of happy couple thing.
Henry opened the truck door and she looked up in surprise. "I didn't see you come out."
"I came out the side door. What have you been doing to keep yourself busy?"
"Nothing. No one's around."
"I knew it. That's why you had time for me today. Well, I just got a call from Nate."
Polly perked up, "Do they want to do something?"
"Well, yes, but it's more of a Nate thing than a Joss and Nate thing. Do you mind tagging along?"
"What are we doing?"
"An old lady who comes into the pharmacy was telling him about her late husband's cars. It seems he has a couple of old cars in their barn and she wants to know if Nate would be interested."
Polly grimaced and rolled her eyes. "Old cars?"
"We have plenty of time to get to the new cars. I promise. It won't take long."
"He's got babies at home."
"You and Joss can play with babies while we work on cars. Please?"
"Of course," she said and chuckled at him. "Let's go look at your old cars."
CHAPTER THREE
"See, I told you he'd be here already," Henry said, pulling in behind Nate's Impala.
Polly glanced around and asked, "Front or back door?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. Let's see what happens."
"You know I hate this stuff."
"We'll hope Nate rescues you."
They got out of the truck and sure enough, Nate came out of the back door of the big, white farmhouse with a huge sweet roll in one hand and a mug in the other.
"Man you have to try this. This roll melts in your mouth." He took another step toward them. "I'm not kidding you. Mrs. Willard can cook!"
Mrs. Willard came out of the back door, smiled and waved. "Come on in!" she said. "I made these especially for you."
"We just had breakfast," Henry protested.
"Don't give me that. There is always room for something sweet. And you need coffee to jumpstart your day, don't you?"
Henry slid a look to Polly and she smiled and shrugged. "This is your party," she said.
"I can't eat a roll that big," he said as they followed Nate and Mrs. Willard back into the house.
"Sit here and I'll bring the coffee pot over. Help yourselves to the rolls on the plate. Mr. Mikkels has been telling me all about his little babies. When are the two of you going to start filling that old school with children?"
Polly waited until Mrs. Willard turned her back and reached out to squeeze Henry's thigh. "What?" she mouthed at him.
He gave her an evil grin and then said, "We're really not in any hurry, Mrs. Willard. We've only been married for a few months."
"But you two aren't getting any younger. I told my Damon and his wife Gina that it is good to have your babies when you're young and have the energy to keep up with them. If you two wait much longer, you're going to be too tired to do all of the things that little kiddos need to do. You have to wear them out, you know. It's the only way to stay on top of things. Make them so tired that they can't wait to go to bed."
She poured two cups of coffee and placed them in front of Polly and Henry. "Drink up. This is the good stuff. I drink it until noon and then I only drink water until I go to bed. I need my coffee to get started, but when I turned fifty-five, I had to start drinking more water instead of coffee so I could sleep at night. And that pop stuff that you kids drink? I won't have that in the house. All of that sugar in a can? What were they thinking? My kids grew up with only homemade food. None of that processed junk. My friends thought those TV dinners were the best thing since sliced bread. But I knew better. Those aren't natural. And who buys sliced bread? Any woman worth her salt can make better bread than that stuff you buy off the shelves. I still make bread every Saturday morning. That's why I have such strong arms and hands. A little hard work is good for the soul."
While she talked, Mrs. Willard strode back across the kitchen floor and opened the refrigerator. She pulled out two loaves wrapped in aluminum foil.
"I was up at five thirty this morning making my bread for the week. I find that since it is just me, I don't need quite as much. Would you like to each take a loaf home?" She put the bread down on the table, a loaf in front of Henry and one in front of Nate and then went back to her cabinets. "I have two jars of blueberry jam in here. Please take those with you, too. If you don't have a big breakfast planned for tomorrow morning, you could at least have toast and jam."
Henry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could take a breath, Mrs. Willard continued. "I don't know how young people today are able to do all that they do eating such horrible food. All of those preservatives and chemicals. No wonder you are sleep deprived. It's screwing up your metabolism. That's what I always told my John and Damon. Gina won't let me cook for them but a couple of times a week. Damon says she's a gourmet cook, but I've seen the boxed mixes in her pantry. She doesn't do any canning either. I wish she'd put in a garden."
"Do they live around here?" Polly asked quickly, before the woman could
start again.
"Damon and Gina live over by Ogden. He's a letter carrier and John lives in Slater."
"What does John do?" Polly hoped to keep Mrs. Willard talking about her sons.
"He's in between jobs right now, but when he was here the other day, he said he had a lead on a couple of things. You know how boys are, especially when they're your babies. He has his mama wrapped around his little finger. I think he comes over just so I'll pack up enough food for him for a week. He's had a rough patch, but he'll be okay. I just know it.
Polly nodded and took another bite of the sweet roll. Nate was absolutely right, it was the lightest, sweetest thing she'd ever eaten, but she was going to die if she ate too much more. She managed to get through half of it and pushed it in front of Henry. He looked at her in panic. He'd finished his, but his eyes told her there was too much food in his belly.
"If you can't eat the whole thing, that's fine, Miss Polly. A sweet young thing like you shouldn't be packing in the calories. You never know when they're going to start attaching themselves to your hips. I'll just put it into a bag here and split the rest of these up so that you can take them home. Does that sound okay, Mr. Mikkels?"
Nate nodded and took another drink of coffee. "My wife would love to taste your sweet rolls." He took a breath as she crossed the kitchen to another cupboard. "Are the cars out in the barn? Maybe we could go look at them. I know that Henry and Polly have quite a bit to do today and I don't want to leave my wife alone for too long. I try to help her out on Saturdays."
"Of course, of course. You kids go on out to the barn. I'll make you a couple of care packages. I have some things in the cellar you might like. It's right out there." She pointed out the back door. "If you'd like to stay inside, Polly, you don't have to go with them."
Henry took one look at Polly and, after seeing her face, said, "I might be buying one for Polly, so I'd like her to see them."
"Fine, fine. You kids go on. Come back in and tell me what you think before you leave."
The three of them thanked her and filed out the back door. They walked silently to the barn, not wanting to laugh or say anything until they were well out of hearing.
Nate opened the barn door and waited until Polly and Henry were inside before laughing. "She's a hoot! I've never heard her talk quite like that at the store, but oh how she must miss her husband."
Polly shook her head. "And dear heavens, but she has opinions on food. She's probably not wrong, but wow."
"Stop talking and look," Henry said. "Look at this."
Polly looked. All she saw were two rusted out hulks of old vehicles. That wasn't what Nate and Henry saw. They each took off after a different car, talking to themselves and to each other.
"Can you believe this?" Henry asked. "Do you think we can fix these?"
"They'll take a lot of work. A lot of work," Nate responded.
"But think how much fun they'd be to drive around town when they're finished. Are they the same year?"
"I wonder if they were purchased as a matching set."
Polly was bored. This was better than sitting inside with Mrs. Willard, but not by much. She had no idea why they were so excited. The barn was fairly large, with several different rooms. The two vehicles were parked in one of the side rooms.
She wandered into a room with newer pieces of equipment. She pulled back tarps from a snow blower and riding lawn mower. Rakes, hoes and other hand equipment were hanging from racks on the wall.
Henry and Nate were still jabbering and going back and forth between the two vehicles, so she wandered into another room. She recognized some horse tack. Funny, Mrs. Willard hadn't said anything about owning horses.
Another large room was filled with junk. She recognized an old wringer washer amid bed springs and frames. An old clawfoot tub was on the floor. She'd seen some used as gardens and wondered if it wouldn't be something fun they could put out front at Sycamore House. Actually, Joss might even love having this in her yard. She was really eclectic when it came to gardening and decorating.
Polly wandered over to look at the tub, wondering how much work it would take to clean it up. Surely Henry would know how to do that. She pulled a piece of plywood away from the top and peered in. It was dark in the room, so she swiped her phone open and turned on the flashlight app. Pulling the plywood away again, she peered in again and let out a squeak, dropping the plywood.
"Henry! Nate! Come here!" she yelled. "Right now!"
Both men came running in and Henry asked, "What? Are you okay?"
"I'm going to curse," she said and pointed to the tub. "But damn it. I did it again."
"No. You did not." Henry said.
"What?" Nate asked. "What did she do?"
"In there?" Henry asked.
Polly nodded her head. "You're going to make me call him, aren't you?"
"Call who? What did she do?" Nate picked the piece of plywood off the tub and pushed it away. "Oh. That's not good."
"I should have known. I brought Polly to a strange location and of course she was going to find a body." Henry looked into the tub. "This one's been here a long time. I can't believe no animals got to it."
"Do you recognize who it is?" Nate asked. "I don't."
Henry looked in again. "Nope. I can't tell." He took Nate's arm and led him away from the tub. "I can't believe that I'm so damned nonchalant about this. Polly, what have you done to me? I can look at a dead body now and not fall completely apart."
"How did he die?" she asked quietly.
"Looks like a gunshot to the head," Nate said.
"Okay. I'll make the call. But you two have to tell Mrs. Willard why the Sheriff is coming. I'm not going back in there and face her after this."
Polly walked out of the barn and took a deep breath. All she smelled was grass and dirt. Thank goodness. Then she did what she knew she had to do and made the call.
"Polly Giller, you have got to be kidding me," Aaron Merritt said without even a hello.
"You're going to have to get better about your greetings. Now, do you think that I wanted to call you?" she asked. "Not on your life."
"Whose life then?"
"I don't know."
"You're serious."
"I'd like to say 'as a heart attack,' but Nate tells me that it's a gunshot to the head that did the poor guy in."
"Nate Mikkels? Is this at his place?"
"No, we're out at Mrs. Willard's house. He and Henry came out to look at some old rusted out pieces of junk in her barn. They think they can restore these cars. I wandered around and found the body in an old tub."
"Cars? Two cars?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"They're rusted out? That's too bad. That will take a lot of work."
"What's so special about two cars?"
"Those were beautiful classic Woodies, Polly. Mr. Willard bought a pair of them. They drove them for years. One was red and the other was blue. He must have just put them in the barn and gave up on them."
"Uh huh. So, what are you doing about the body?"
"I'm on my way. As soon as I hang up, I'll call Stu and have him pull a team together. Don't go anywhere. I'll be there in less than ten minutes."
Polly turned around and found Nate and Henry back at the two cars. "He's going to be here in less than ten minutes and we aren't supposed to go anywhere. Which one of you is telling Mrs. Willard that she's about to have company?"
The two men looked at her and then at each other.
"You know her best," Henry said to Nate. "You go tell her."
Nate shook his head. "I think I'll just let the Sheriff do it. I can't imagine what she'll have to say."
"You guys are chickens. I called Aaron. One of you should do this."
They looked at each other again and Nate said, "Nope. I'm fine with the chicken moniker."
"Aaron said these were Woodies. What does that mean?" she asked. "He said that Mr. Willard bought two of them - one for him and one for his wife. One was blue and the other was r
ed."
"Really," Nate said. He bent over and rubbed his finger on one of the doors. "This was the red one."
"Woodies are classic vehicles that had wood panels on the doors," Henry explained to Polly.
"Oh, like those station wagons you see in movies from the seventies?"
"Sort of, but not really. These aren't anything like those Ford Country Squires." Henry said.
Nate looked up. "No. These are nothing like that. These are probably 1949 or 1950," Nate ran his hand along the rusty hood. "If you don't want one of them, I'm buying them both from her. I can't let them go to someone else."
Henry looked up at Polly, trying to make a decision.
"Just do it," she said. "I'm trying to see it all fixed up with new upholstery and fresh paint. I think it would be fun to drive one around town."
"You do?" he asked. "Really?"
"Sure!"
"You know this means we're rescuing a car now, right?"
Polly pointed at him. "You're rescuing the car. Not me. Get that straight. I have enough rescues in my life. This one's on you."
The crunching of tires on rock announced Aaron Merritt's arrival and the three of them left the barn in time to see Mrs. Willard come out of the back door, drying her hands on a towel tucked into her apron.
"Sheriff Merritt, what are you doing here?" she asked. "Is something wrong? Has something happened to Damon or Gina or their kids?"
"No, no, no, Mrs. Willard. But Polly found something in your barn and she called me. Could we go inside and talk for a minute?"
"What did she find?" Mrs. Willard started walking across the driveway to the barn. "Is there something wrong out here with the cars?"
All of a sudden she stopped in her tracks. Her brows wrinkled into a frown. "You find dead bodies," she said accusingly. "Are you trying to tell me you found a dead body in my barn?"
Polly took a step back. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Now Mrs. Willard. It isn't Polly's fault. I believe that when she finds a body, it's her way of setting the universe straight. That poor person needed to be found and Polly's just the one to do it. Let's not get upset."
The woman had brought her hand up to point at Polly in accusation and then she seemed to wilt. "You don't think I had anything to do with killing someone, do you?" she asked Aaron.
Through the Storm (Bellingwood Book 8) Page 3
