by Jule McBride
“And I don’t see how Hammerhead could have lost the bandanna,” Marsh continued. “You know how tightly Pappy always ties it, and besides, he’s such a lazy dog. He’d never hoof it all the way up to Teasdale’s Terror House.”
“Exactly,” said Michelle. “And why is it here, instead of at the station if it’s evidence? That’s why I called you guys. I opened this drawer—” she leaned to indicate which “—trying to find some paper and pencils. And look!”
Jeb followed the trek of her pointing finger. Then he gasped, barely able to believe what he was seeing. In the open drawer was an ink pad and a joke gift from a novelty shop—a stamper shaped like a dog’s paw print. And…“Matilda’s recipe book,” he said.
“In Sheriff Underwood’s drawer,” Michelle said, her voice lowering in surprise.
“He must have found the book recently,” said Marsh, confused.
“No way,” argued Michelle. “He took it.” She glanced at Jeb. “That’s why he didn’t bother to question your grandfather about Hammerhead. He knew the dog had never been in the root cellar.”
Jeb considered. “But why would he…”
“He wanted the book,” said Marsh. “So he decided to frame your granddad.”
Jeb couldn’t believe it. Even less when Michelle said, “Or you guys. I mean, I’ve heard people have tried to steal the book before. Maybe he meant to cast suspicion on you, but then act as if he couldn’t find enough evidence.”
“Trying to turn attention away from himself,” said Marsh with a low whistle.
“What should we do?” Jeb asked, suddenly glancing toward the door. “We’d better get out of here,” he added, “In case somebody comes back.” Now that they’d found the book, he didn’t exactly want to stick around.
Gingerly, Michelle shut the drawer.
Marsh said, “Let’s go. I don’t want to be here when they get back.”
“I think we should call Dr. Houston and Ariel,” said Michelle as they headed for the hallway. “I mean, the book belongs to the Andersons, and since Sheriff Underwood works alone, we can’t call his deputy. It wouldn’t be right to involve the dispatcher, and if we go to a town outside Bliss, the sheriff will have time to move the book.”
Marsh sighed. “My dad’s cell’s not in the truck.”
“We can stay long enough to use the phone,” Jeb said nervously, now moving toward the kitchen. He stared into the drawer he’d opened earlier, found a pen, then started to lift the receiver. Changing his mind, he grabbed a dish towel first, then covered the receiver.
“Good idea,” Michelle said in such an approving voice that Jeb’s pulse raced. “No fingerprints. This really is breaking and entering, isn’t it?”
That hadn’t been their intention, but Jeb nodded. In the instant before the information operator came on the line, he felt his knees weaken. Michelle’s red hair was swirling around her bare shoulders, and waving strands licked creamy skin. Through her top, he could see the outline of the breasts he’d touched the previous night. He’d give anything to see her fully naked, swimming in the spring.
The operator clicked on. “What number please?”
“Anderson residence. Mountain Drive,” he said, still thinking of Michelle’s nude body, glowing under moonlight. He cleared his throat, since it felt as if he’d swallowed something mealy. Even worse, his voice had hitched and broken when he’d spoken, sounding as high as a soprano. Color flooded his cheeks, and he turned away, hoping Michelle hadn’t noticed. Then he tensed, thinking he’d heard a car approaching.
Marsh ran for the door. “It’s somebody else,” he called. “A Chevy’s passing the house. But hurry. I’m going to move the truck. That way, if anybody comes back, it won’t be in the driveway. We can wait at the other end of the block.”
Jeb could hardly make public phone systems move faster. Feeling relief when the operator came onto the line again, Jeb scribbled the number hurriedly on the yellow pad he’d found earlier, then he depressed the dial-tone button, disconnecting the call, and released it for another tone.
As he dialed, he could only hope Ariel Anderson was home.
ARIEL KICKED BACK and stared at the house where she’d grown up. It was really beautiful, full of strange nooks and crannies, old pantries and long dark hallways that looked as if they could be inhabited by ghosts. And they were, she thought now. Or they had been. Until Rex had come along. Rising from the passenger seat, she headed for where he was leaning over the microscope and stood a pace away, not wanting to disturb him. She liked watching him work. He looked incredibly sexy with his overly long blond hair almost brushing the shoulders of a lab coat. His eyes were squinting into the lens.
“You look like a mad scientist.”
He glanced from the scope, his expression momentarily distracted. Then he took her in and his blue eyes darkened, warming.
“The zone,” she guessed. Before he could answer, her eyes flickered over the blood samples next to the cell phone on the makeshift desk. “What’s Lawrence Nathan’s sample look like?”
He looked at her a long moment, something indecisive in his eyes. The pause stretched a moment too long. “It’s fine.”
“I thought you said he had more trace evidence of Romeo in his blood than others who were here in seventy-seven. And this is the connection to Szuzi…right? I mean, he said he’d been here before, so he must have taken the bug with him when he traveled. He must have infected Szuzi.” Right after Rex had realized Lawrence Nathan had been in Szuzi, he’d continued questioning him, and he had found the man had been to Bliss, also. On business, he’d said. According to Lawrence, Bliss had found a special place in his heart, and he wanted to keep it green.
Rex still hadn’t said anything, and the strangeness of his expression was starting to unnerve her. It made her feel as if their perfect synchronicity was being broken. Just as she moved closer, wanting the reassurance of his arms, the phone rang and he turned away to answer it.
“Houston,” he said.
Simultaneously, she realized two things. First, that it wasn’t Lawrence Nathan’s blood Rex had been studying under the scope, it had been her own. And second, Matilda’s book had been found. Her ears perked up. “Somebody found it?”
“C’mon,” Rex said as soon as he clicked the off button. “Help me secure all this stuff.”
“Who was that?” As he moved the blood samples, she quickly forgot about her own. She locked the microscope into position, as well as the roller chair.
“Jeb,” Rex returned. “He, Marsh and Jeb’s girlfriend, Michelle, are at the Underwoods’s. They’ve been trying to find us. They called the house first, and since I gave the number to your relatives, he got my cell number.”
Her mind was still trying to catch up as he headed for the front seat. “What are they doing there?”
Rex turned the key over in the ignition. “They say they just found Matilda’s recipe book in Studs’ desk drawer.”
Ariel sighed with relief. “He found it?”
Rex shook his head as he pulled from the lot. “Uh…no. It looks like he stole it.”
Ariel could only shake her head. “Why would Studs steal Matilda’s book?”
“Beats me. But I bet we’re about to find out.”
14
“NOW,” SAID SHERIFF DURHAM, pushing open the driver’s side door of his cruiser just as Studs and Joanie entered the house. “We’re ready to move.”
Thankfully, the Underwoods’s children weren’t with their parents. That made it easier to arrest Studs. If that’s what was about to occur, Ariel thought. Somehow, this seemed to be too good to be true, though. Had the jerk really stolen the book, as the teens claimed? Was he finally about to get caught at his own nasty games? And why? Did he really hate her that much? Had he done so to put a damper on her relatives’ good time at the festival? Surely, he knew how much the book meant to them and how cherished it was. Had he stolen it out of spite?
Ariel only hoped it was in the house and unharmed
. She could almost see its worn, yellowed cloth cover. Because edges of the brittle pages threatened to crumble and blow away, it had to be handled with the utmost delicacy. The recipes had been recorded years ago, in crimped writing with a quill pen, and the ink had faded, so that it almost blended into the paper. If the book ever got wet, it would be ruined.
That’s why it had been stored in the cellar’s safe. Unlike most root cellars, the one at the bed-and-breakfast wasn’t damp, but rather, it was the driest part of the house, almost hermetically sealed. Ariel’s relatives claimed Matilda had once grown tea leaves on the mountain and that she’d built the cellar for the purpose of hanging leaves to dry.
Now Ariel glanced from the windshield to Sheriff Durham. He was tall and lanky, so his angular arms and legs, clad in a short-sleeved tan uniform, seemed to unfold like a shirt from cardboard as he got out and stretched his legs. Only a wide-brimmed ranger’s hat kept his shaved head from soaking up the sun and reflecting it like a headlight beam. As he stared toward the house, he hiked his slacks and rested a hand on his gun holster.
As soon as Rex and Ariel had called, the young law officer had driven over from the next town, and now Michelle, Jeb and Marsh tumbled from the back seat. Sheriff Durham had parked a half block away from the Underwoods’s home, under the cover of a weeping willow, and now, stepping around the hood, Ariel felt her pulse quicken as she saw the couple enter the small, two-story house. Her eyes trailed over the yard, taking in the toys strewn over the grass, and she realized two things—first, this sort of life would have been hers if she hadn’t left Bliss, and second, she’d have felt unchallenged and unfulfilled.
She hated to think it, but for the first time, she wondered if Studs and Joanie hadn’t felt some jealousy toward her, as much as they’d never admit it. Sure, she’d had it rough, but that had driven her to develop skills, hobbies and talents, and in the end, she’d gotten out of town. She was still young, her career just beginning, and if the past week was any indication, her love life was more promising than ever. If her human-interest piece for the Harvest Festival went well, she might wind up as a television producer before her thirtieth birthday.
Studs and Joanie had landed in a very different life, and while many Bliss residents loved what living in the country had to offer, Joanie hadn’t looked particularly happy the day she’d stormed into Ariel’s bedroom. No more than she had moments ago, walking toward the house, wearing black shorts and a black T-shirt, as if she were dressed for a funeral, with her lips pursed and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Studs had looked equally disgruntled, preceding her.
“Stay back,” Sheriff Durham coached now. “Sheriff Underwood’s in civvies. So, he’s not carrying right now, but he’s got guns in the house.”
Dutifully, everyone kept a few paces back, and when they reached the porch, they stood off to the side as Sheriff Durham rang the bell.
“Dean,” Joanie said, opening the door. “This is a surprise. What brings you into Bliss? Come on in.” As soon as she stepped back to admit him, everyone else circled the corner of the house and crowded in behind, pushing over the threshold.
“What’s going on?” Joanie said, taken aback.
Despite the sheriff’s warnings, Michelle took charge. “The book’s in here.”
Studs was in the study, standing near a window, staring into the side yard, and when he heard the ruckus, he turned. Ariel’s lips parted in surprise; his eyes were slightly watery, and while it was hard to tell, she could swear he’d been crying. Michelle went straight for the desk, grabbed a drawer handle and began to pull it.
“No,” Studs said simply, moving toward Michelle. “Don’t open that.”
Then everything happened at once. Studs reached for Michelle, clearly hoping to stay her hand before she could finish opening the drawer. The second his beefy fist closed over her upper arm, Jeb released an animal grunt, charged with pure testosterone. Rushing forward, he lunged at Studs, catching him around his paunchy waist and shoving him backward. Studs slammed into the wall next to the window through which he’d been staring.
Joanie screeched, “What’s going on here?” Racing forward to protect her husband, she grasped the back of Jeb’s T-shirt, attempting to pull him away while Ariel edged across the threshold and into the room with Rex on her heels.
“He stole the Andersons’ recipe book,” Michelle announced triumphantly, as Sheriff Durham came forward, covered his hand with a rag from his back pocket, then lifted the book from the drawer.
“And the festival is tomorrow,” Marsh said. “The Andersons always have a booth, selling teas, and he made sure that was impossible for them this year.”
“He wanted to frame Marsh and Jeb,” Michelle said as she shook off Studs’s arm. Seeing that she was safe, Jeb released his hold from around the man’s waist and glanced at Sheriff Durham, who was placing the book into a transparent evidence bag.
“Will my relatives be able to get their book back before tomorrow?” Ariel asked, her eyes studying it from its place inside the plastic.
“Of course. I only want to dust it for prints. It will only take a few minutes, once we’re out of here. You can come with me, or if you can just trust me with the book for an hour…”
“Be careful,” said Ariel. “It’s very old and fragile. A family heirloom.” But she did trust Sheriff Durham with it. Just like she trusted Rex. She cast a glance beside her, surveying the man who’d loved her so senselessly all week long. He was incredibly handsome, with his blond hair tucked behind his ears and his bright blue eyes intent on Studs. He looked as if he could chew the man up and spit him out without ever breaking stride.
“My husband didn’t take that book!” exclaimed Joanie now, her jaw becoming rigid and intractable. “He’s been working on the case, trying to find that book, despite how…” She paused. “How that tramp has chased him all these years.”
“Even if I was a tramp,” Ariel said, “which I’m not, I and my family pay taxes. Solving crimes is your husband’s job.”
“And those are my suspects,” said Studs, staring at Marsh and Jeb.
“You’re crazy,” said Jeb.
“We’re not criminals. We came to talk to you about Angus Lyons,” Marsh quickly said. “We saw him at the Outskirts Motel, but you weren’t home, so we looked for some paper to leave you a note, and—”
“Angus Lyons?” Ariel said, gasping. “What’s he doing here?”
“That’s when we found the book,” said Michelle, ignoring Ariel and picking up on what Marsh had said. “And this!” She nodded toward the ink pad and stamper.
“He put paw prints around the safe in the root cellar,” Marsh accused.
“And who would know better how to crack a safe than a sheriff?” asked Michelle. “We heard the safe wasn’t blown open, so whoever broke in knew the combination.”
Ariel sighed. “A few years ago, my mother turned in the combination to the sheriff’s office, for security purposes, along with an inventory of valuables in the house. She was redoing the insurance policy, and the agent suggested that the paperwork be filed in town, also.”
“Looks like you’ve been caught red-handed,” said Sheriff Durham, unhooking the cuffs that he wore attached to his belt.
“Those kids planted the book,” Studs said, eyeing Sheriff Durham as he approached. “Don’t you see that what they’ve done is breaking and entering! They admitted as much! They were snooping in my house! And you’re going to arrest me?”
“Sorry, but I’m going to have to,” said Sheriff Durham, coming to a standstill a foot away from Studs. Ariel followed the action, still wondering about Angus Lyons. Had the kids really seen him at the Outskirts?
Suddenly, she thought of Lawrence Nathan’s skittish behavior, how he’d seemed to be expecting someone. The idea that the men were one and the same came in a flash, like a buried insight that surfaced all at once. He was about the right age, and he’d been the first to show for a blood test, saying he wanted to get it o
ut of the way. Maybe he’d just been afraid townspeople would recognize him.
But why would he return to Bliss? Everyone here hated him, if only by reputation. Stories about the near takeover of the town had circulated for years. If Lawrence Nathan was really Angus, was that information she could use in her story?
She tried to remember the pictures she’d seen of him while researching possible angles for her Harvest Festival piece. When she was a kid, she’d seen news articles; most kids in Bliss had been shown news stories about Core Coal. Elsinore Gibbet had made sure of that.
The long-haired man she and Rex had met was around the same age as Angus Lyons. Though, his style was completely different. He was a hippie, wearing loose khakis, a T-shirt and Birkenstock sandals, with socks no less. Hardly the short-haired businessman she remembered from the photo. In a three-piece suit and standing next to his father, he’d looked every inch the corporate raider. While Jack and Ryan hadn’t wanted her to focus on the Core Coal material in her story, fearing the land development angle would detract from small-town human interest, the resurfacing of Angus Lyons might yield some angle they’d allow her to use….
“They entered my residence when I wasn’t home,” Studs was still protesting when Ariel returned her attention to him. “And they looked in my drawers.”
Ignoring his arguments, Sheriff Durham drew a card from his back pocket and began to read Studs his Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent…”
Before he had a chance to click the cuffs around Studs’s wrist, Joanie edged between them. She stared at her husband. “You told me those boys took the book,” she said. “So why didn’t you arrest them yet? Or talk to their parents? And why is the book here, not at the station? And what about that ink pad and paw-print stamp? And Hammerhead’s bandanna?” Her voice rose. “I’m sick of this, Studs Underwood. Sick of you! You contribute nothing around here. I do all the cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids. You won’t even let me go back to school! And now this!”
