A Lethal Time (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 4)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  Sally, who made a point of knowing all her neighbors, asked them if they could help her out by giving me some information regarding the area and anything else they might know about the old Robinson property, rumors included.

  I looked around after Crystal dropped me off from her Harley at the Fielding’s raked, gravel drive. They had a spectacular view, looking across the road past Jackson’s fields to the mountain ranges in the far distance. A new large picture window in the front of their house faced that view directly. I could see why they chose that parcel in the first place. Between the secluded dirt road, the views, and the surrounding woods, they had made a good investment.

  I heard a door squeak open and turned. There stood a gray-haired gentleman, I guessed in his early sixties, casually dressed in jeans and polo shirt, smiling at me. Right behind him was a woman around the same age as him, wearing jeans and a sweater, and whose gray hair was held back with a clip.

  “Hi,” I greeted, as I approached their side door entrance.

  The man extended his hand, giving me a mischievous, broad grin. “Why you’re prettier than I expected. You must be Samantha Jamison.”

  Smooth. I liked him instantly and smiled right back.

  “Yes, and you both must be Mr. and Mrs. Fielding.”

  The fragile-looking woman reached out a petite hand and shook mine firmly and escorted me inside. “Please call me Millicent, and this is my husband, Major.”

  I tried not to chuckle at how amusing his name sounded as I followed them inside. Major. How some of these people were ever given such strange monikers was a mystery. But then who was I to speak with the name, Sam?

  Once we were all seated and tea served, I got right to exactly what I was interested in without giving anything away. “I’m sure you both are aware about what happened at Robinson’s house the other day with that raccoon.”

  “Oh my, yes!” Millicent exclaimed. “How dreadful!”

  Major agreed, patting his wife’s hand. “Why, that could have happened to us if it weren’t for Millicent’s insistence on keeping the doors firmly closed and all possible entry into the house carefully repaired and sealed.”

  Millicent sipped her tea. “I heard that raccoon snuck in through some loose boards near the basement entrance.”

  I knew in a small town of under three thousand residents word would spread swiftly.

  “I heard that, too,” I said. Sally had passed on the information earlier that morning when she had called Crystal. Clay and I must have missed those loose boards because of all the overgrowth and weeds.

  “Did you know Robinson before he went to the home?”

  Major nodded, then said, “He kept mostly to himself, but once in a while when we were out walking, he would stop and talk if he was outside when we passed by his house. He was pleasant enough, I guess.”

  Millicent agreed. “But he got strange toward the end.”

  “What do you mean, strange?”

  Mrs. Fielding lowered her voice, as though someone might overhear her. “He started to mumble odd things like, ‘Who would believe me now?’ ‘Why should I trust him?’ ‘What if they found out?’ I found it extremely unsettling.”

  Major laughed. “My wife sometimes sees intrigue where there is none. She has probably read too many whodunits.”

  Millicent gave him a sharp look. “I know what I heard.”

  I looked at Major. “Did you hear him say such things?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, but they were probably nothing more than the ramblings of a man who was ill.”

  His wife shook her head. “Maybe, but after that he was gone and placed in a home.”

  “…Because,” added Major, “he fell after slipping on his stairs and lay there for two days. A nursing home was then suggested by his relatives for his own safety.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, too convenient.

  Was he pushed?

  Chapter 22

  Driving The Point Home

  The three ladies were bickering as usual when they walked in the door. I sharpened my refereeing skills and greeted them. “Well, I see you’re in high spirits.”

  Martha’s eyes narrowed. “I know that was meant as a joke, but after being stuck in a small library with these two for a couple of hours, while I picked the brain of that old librarian, you’d be testy, too.”

  I looked over at the sweet, harmless pair. “Why?”

  “Every time I gained traction with that librarian, Miss ‘But-In’ and Miss ‘Are-You-Sure?’ managed to deep-six me by wasting time with their interruptions.”

  I had difficulty following. “What’s all this about?”

  Hazel stepped in front of Martha. “This chatty, elderly lady was subbing for the regular librarian, who’s out sick.”

  “And,” added Betty, “was a wealth of information.”

  “Sam, ignore Martha,” said Hazel. “She always gets so peevish. Info gathering takes finesse. You can’t rush it.”

  Martha said, “I had that woman in the palm of my hand, telling us about what had happened a few years ago.”

  Talk about getting to the point. “And the tale was...?”

  “Well, her cousin was driving his pickup by Robinson’s and a lumber truck that was pulling out in the opposite direction almost hit him. He ended up in a ditch. Well, Robinson rushes from his house with chains and his own truck to help tow her cousin out, saying, ‘He should have been more careful pulling out like that.’ But then Miss ‘But-In’ stops the whole shebang, so Miss ‘Are-You-Sure?’ can ask nonsensical questions and the library phone rang.”

  I laughed. “And the moment was gone, right?”

  “Like a punctured balloon.”

  “Yes, but we still learned a lot,” said an indignant Betty.

  Martha whirled on her. “We might have learned more.”

  “What was so important about the episode?” I asked.

  Hazel smiled smugly. “Because the truck that almost hit her cousin’s truck was pulling out from Robinson’s house.”

  Martha gave a frustrated laugh. “Once that phone rang, someone came in with their three kids and that was that.”

  I needed a conversational map. “I still don’t get it.”

  “It’s another aspect we never considered before, Sam.”

  “What didn’t we consider?” I asked, impatiently.

  “Paying more attention to all the players, including the dead one. That truck was pulling away from Robinson’s.”

  “So, what’s the big deal? He might have been asking for directions from Robinson. Why would you get so worked up about a lumber truck on a dirt back road anyway?”

  Hazel winked. “The librarian’s cousin saw something.”

  Martha chuckled. “I guess that wad of cash the trucker handed Robinson from his driver’s window was his way of thanking him for directions on how to get to Interstate 93.”

  Chapter 23

  Another Strange Coincidence?

  Not much later, Crystal rushed in and slapped her keys on the counter. By then we were sipping our customary p.m. glass of wine, while discussing what was going on. Obviously, Crystal had a lot to say, because she went right for her usual 1664 chilled bottle of beer with a lime twist shoved in the bottleneck for panache and just stood there.

  The three of us sat staring wondering what would spill from her lips, and by the look on her face, plenty. After a long pull on her bottle of beer, she slowly set it down, smiling, stringing out the anticipation to the hilt.

  “After checking the town records and calling Sally, all I found out was there used to be a one hundred-and-fifty-foot antenna sitting at the top of the drive just before you make a right toward Sally’s four-car garage. Tom had been trying for a few years to get the damn thing out. That small patch of ground the antenna stood on was leased from the former owner of this property for some major cash over the years.”

  “Whatever for?” Martha asked.

  “A dispatch communication tower for a constructi
on company,” said Crystal, “so they could speak with their drivers about deliveries in New Hampshire and Vermont. In these mountains, they couldn’t coordinate distribution.”

  “So, how is that relevant?” Betty asked.

  “That’s the point. It’s not anymore. With improved cell phone coverage and satellites, the tower became irrelevant. So, Sally, being the ever-clever cousin I know, engaged a lawyer to negotiate the legalities to have the unsightly tower dismantled to enhance the value of her property.”

  “Well, I don’t see one there now,” said Martha, “so I guess she was successful.”

  “She was,” said Crystal, “but something else came on the radar screen after all that property research was done.”

  “What?” Hazel asked.

  “Sally and Tom were informed by their lawyer there might be a problem about one of the several old wells on their land even though it was within their property lines.”

  “So, what was the hitch?” I asked.

  “There was a never-used artesian well on the southern portion of their property with shared water rights that went back over a hundred years that no one was aware of.”

  My mind was connecting the dots. “So, Sally and Tom didn’t have full water rights to that particular hand-dug well, even though it is within their property line and hadn’t been used in ages or ever shared, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, who did she speak to for settling water rights that are well over a hundred years old?” asked Martha.

  “She couldn’t,” said Crystal.

  “And why not?” I asked.

  “The woman in question was no longer around.”

  “So?” asked Betty. “Why can’t Sally write her and buy the woman out? Can’t she at least try to contact her?”

  I interrupted. “Wait! Was meant something else, right?”

  “Yes. She’s dead,” said Crystal. “A few years ago she was murdered inside her house in a home invasion, but no one was ever caught. It was a real mystery then, still is.”

  Like I’ve said to my editor, you can’t make this stuff up. No one would believe you, but it happens in real life and makes great storytelling, except for the unfortunate person involved. Now Sally and Tom had to deal with all the complex legal issues in trying to get it all resolved.

  Nobody said anything for a minute or two. Then as a reflex we all reached for our glasses of wine and took a long sip. Crystal grabbed her bottle of beer, doing the same.

  “…Wow,” said Betty.

  “How do you negotiate with a dead woman?” I asked.

  “You’d need a Ouija board,” countered Martha.

  “What will Sally and Tom do now?” Hazel asked.

  “Deal with the woman’s descendants.” Betty replied.

  “I don’t think so,” said Crystal.

  “And why not?” I asked.

  “There was a male descendent, but after a year, they’ve had no luck tracking him down, so it looks like the court will rule in Sally and Tom’s favor for the water rights.”

  “I guess that’s great news for Sally and Tom. At least for that end of their property, but I don’t know about the other end though, you know, the Robinson end of it.”

  A lot of strange things were going on, don’t you think?

  Chapter 24

  Three Plus One Makes Four?

  While the others speculated and bantered back and forth, I went for a leisurely walk in the woods for a much-needed brain-break. Crystal had mentioned there was a small pond on the property in a northerly direction from the house. It sounded restful, so I chose that route. I had to think.

  I grabbed a few strawberries growing wild along the way, while stepping around sporadic patches of violets and numerous wildflowers lining the paths and horse trails.

  As I munched away, I remembered that I once read that June's full moon was known as the strawberry moon, a name that was handed down by Native Americans, who were honoring the first edible wild fruit of the season.

  I found that interesting. (I read ketchup labels, too.)

  I could see why Sally and Tom loved the property. It was like an island unto itself. There was a fork in the path and I chose the one to the right, ducking under branches and stepping over a recently fallen tree blocking the path.

  I checked my watch, not wanting to be too late to help with preparing our dinner and kept walking. Periodically, I stopped and listened to the wind rustle the tree branches and the occasional bird feather between them, marveling at how peaceful it was.

  In several minutes, I found the small pond. It was flecked with sunlight. I caught sight of a frog leaping from one rock to the next. A crane flew off to my left, startling me. Uneasily, I looked back to the worn path that led me here, committing it to memory. The last thing I needed was to get lost in the maze of paths crisscrossing the property.

  Crystal had reassured me before I left not to worry. The well-maintained paths eventually led you back home. So if I lost my way, in time, I would end up back at the house.

  Enticed by the serenity I moved on and, before long, the overhead canopy of trees gave way to a fenced-in pasture. I was surprised to discover a corralled area in the middle of Sally and Tom’s forest and wondered why? In seconds, I received my answer as I leaned on the wooden rails. Out of nowhere, a dark, chestnut-shaded horse barreled toward me, snorting and charging the fence.

  When he bared his teeth, I jumped back before I was nipped. I threw my hand to my chest, shaken. No one had mentioned a fourth horse. He was magnificent. Was he the black sheep of the farm? He stomped the ground and paced back and forth, but then settled down.

  I considered walking away, but then remembered the extra sugar cubes I had in my pocket from earlier in the day when I visited the other three horses. He was taller than Amanda, Sally’s Morgan. Determined not to show fear, I took an insane chance and tentatively stretched out my cube-filled hand, prepared to jerk it back at any time.

  To my amazement, he eagerly scooped up the small sugar cubes. Then he abruptly flinched when I raised my hand. He reared up on his hind legs and charged the fence again. Obviously, he wasn’t of the school don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

  Chapter 25

  A Change Of Heart

  With my heart pounding, I stared up at the unpredictable stallion, who was still snorting and stomping the ground right next to where I had stood seconds ago. I was currently sprawled out on the ground, having lost my balance in my kneejerk reaction to his skittish behavior.

  No wonder no one had mentioned him when we agreed to stay and watch the place. He definitely would have changed the whole dynamics of the babysit-the-farm deal. I slowly got off the ground, brushed off my jeans, and tried to remain calm. He was more nervous than I was.

  Apparently, this was one of Sally and Tom’s horses, but not one they advertised. I could see why. I looked at the horse once again, uncertain. He stood next to the fence, eyeing me as though trying to make up his mind if maybe I wasn’t the threat he originally thought I was. I smiled up at him, and I swear, he smiled back.

  I finally found my voice. “Hey there, fella. Have they stuck you all the way back here because you’re not so friendly? I bet you’re not as bad as they think you are.”

  He eyed me suspiciously, fussed around, but then settled down once again at my soothing voice and whinnied.

  I reached into my pocket for more sugar cubes, knowing I was taking a chance at being charged again, but I wanted to make him understand that I wasn’t a threat. So I slowly reached over the fencing and gradually placed my hand in a flat, opened position, but then didn’t move one iota.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  After a minute, the dark chestnut beauty cautiously approached and gently nibbled at the cubes. I could feel my heart pounding away as fear pitched through my veins, but was determined to show a calm demeanor outwardly.

  It worked. When he was finished he licked my palm and I was finally able to ever so gently strok
e his smooth-as-silk coat. He whinnied again and shuffled around and nudged me, lightly. I smiled, but then caught a strange glint in his eye and withdrew my hand instinctively.

  In a flash, he charged the fence once more and I turned on my heels and flew down the path retracing my steps, running as fast as I could in case he broke through. I still heard him kicking the fence as I made my way past the pond, not daring to look back, or slow down.

  I was still rattled when I reached the flower gardens of the farmhouse and collapsed on a boulder that was used as a bench, trying to catch my breath. I may not know much about animals, but at least I knew when to cut my losses. I would make a point of privately asking Crystal in the morning to find out more about this mysterious fourth horse, who was definitely now on my watch-your-back list.

  Chapter 26

  Night Stalkers

  I guess I was lucky having friends who meant well and encouraged me to try something new, riding. Large animals didn’t faze them much. Me? After my two experiences with horses so far, well, I was sort of in the not-so-sure stage.

  If it moved, I’d still prefer it had a key and a brake.

  On the other hand, the hitches in having these friends constantly ebbed and flowed, depending on the strange and unexpected events that popped up when we were together. Surprisingly, everything usually worked out in spite of a little friendly rivalry going on…uh, correction, a lot.

  Some were even humorous, like this one:

  We were sipping our tea by the fire after dinner, still waiting for Clay to come back from Boston and eager to hear what he had found out, when out of nowhere, the most ungodly high-pitched screech came from the barn.

  Nobody said anything for a second, wondering what it was. Then we heard it again. By this time, we were on our feet, but I didn’t exactly notice anyone making a move for the back door that led to the barn. It was as though everyone was freeze-framed in place, not sure what to do.