A Lethal Time (A Samantha Jamison Mystery Volume 4)

by Peggy A. Edelheit

  “What was that?” I asked, squeakily.

  Crystal set her mug down on the coffee table. “Sally and Tom’s cat just had kittens. It sure sounds like her cat, but she’s safely locked away in the barn with her new litter.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Martha, moving from the sofa.

  Betty turned to Hazel. “That’s definitely a distress call.”

  “That’s a bet I’d put money on,” said Hazel.

  We all tensed after hearing it again.

  Martha aimed for the door. “I know that sound.”

  Crystal was right behind her. “What?”

  “Could be skunks are attacking,” said Hazel.

  “Or coyotes,” added Betty.

  I almost dropped my mug. “What?”

  Martha turned back. “Quick! We need a big flashlight!”

  Crystal grabbed one on the way out the back porch door.

  We all followed each other closely, listening to more howling in the dark, then rushed from the glassed in porch connected to the covered walkway that attached to the barn.

  “Shine that light on those barn doors!” ordered Martha.

  Crystal did and we stopped in our tracks. There were skunks trying to hold on to a paw of a kitten under the barn door. Well, we all grabbed a handful of stones from the gravel drive and started throwing them, startling the skunks and the paw of the kitten safely pulled back into the barn. Startled, the skunks took off toward the backfield and disappeared, a scent-free close call.

  “That was close. I guess they won’t be back,” I said.

  Martha turned. “Are you kidding? Think again, sister!”

  Chapter 27

  Like Shooting Ducks On A Pond

  After checking inside the locked barn to make sure momma and her kittens were fine, Crystal relocked the barn doors, but not before we carried some lumber over to fill in the space where the kitten had snuck under to get out.

  Returning back to the family room, Martha wasted no time with Crystal. “You know, now that those skunks know there are kittens in that barn, they are coming back. Trust me, they will find a way into that barn to get at those babies and kill them all for sure.”

  “They are a tricky lot,” said Hazel. “And clever.”

  “Looked like a whole family of them,” said Betty.

  “Have to get rid of them,” said Martha. “Unfortunately, we’re not packing heat, but some rifles might do the trick.”

  Crystal looked over to me. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t know how to hunt, skin or mount anything.”

  Crystal shook her head. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” I asked.

  “If I don’t, my cousin will kill me! She loves that cat.”

  I focused on Hazel, Betty and Martha. “At your age, you should be darning socks and knitting, not brandishing rifles and stalking wild animals in the dark, you know that?”

  Crystal looked my way. “Got any other alternatives?”

  “No, not really. And I don’t do the rifle thing, either.”

  “Who said you had to?” said Martha. “We’ll handle this. You just need you to stay here for when Clay returns.”

  “But you three are elderly and so….”

  “And so what?” Hazel laughed. “So lady-like?”

  That had crossed my mind, but she beat me to it. “Yes.”

  Betty patted my arm. “We can handle guns, trust us.”

  “I do and I don’t, if you know what I mean.”

  Martha turned to Crystal, “Can you drive the tractor?”

  She laughed. “There’s nothing I can’t drive.”

  “Well, then, how about we rumble, people?”

  Within minutes, I watched as they made their way under the barn to where the tractor was parked. What a sight they made. All of them carried rifles from Tom’s gun cabinet. Crystal threw hers in the tractor bucket. Hazel and Betty were wearing, you guessed it, their long coats and goggles, and Martha was wearing her chaps and jeans. All of them walked behind Crystal, who drove the tractor.

  In minutes, the group had disappeared beyond the house spotlights and all I heard were voices yelling out and the sound of the tractor engine with its headlights glaring in the distance, as they traversed the far back field. I had no idea what they were doing, but hoped they did.

  Then I heard several shots ring out and cringed, praying they wouldn’t shoot each other. I had visions of dialing 911, trying to explain why three senior citizens and our Harley girl were out target shooting in the dead of night.

  I came up short. …Oh, my God, what was that smell?

  Chapter 28

  Aftershock & Aftermath

  Running from room to room, I slammed shut all the open windows, then heard shouting and pounding coming from the lower, side garage door. Female voices were arguing and yelling at each other, while obviously taking turns beating the door with their fists. I flew down the garage steps, raced over, and whipped the door open.

  Oh, my!

  I was momentarily speechless. I won’t even attempt to describe the rank odor that slapped me breathless, nor the explicit visuals of the four naked women before me, all holding rifles. There were no descriptive words available that would do this unexpected image justice. Let’s just say, that the thirty something, Crystal, was easier on the eyes.

  “What the…?” I said, pinching my nose. I couldn’t talk.

  “Well, just don’t stand there! Let us in,” yelled Martha.

  I was unceremoniously shoved to the side as the four smelly women scrambled past me and raced up the stairs.

  Crystal turned to me. “We buried our clothes with the skunks in the back field because they sprayed all of us.”

  There were four full baths in the house, and in seconds I could already hear showers running, while trying not to gag from the residual smell still lingering in the garage.

  A half an hour later we all gathered in the family room with glasses of wine, one beer, and a lot of perfume. Heads were still dripping from their multiple shampoos. I served cheese and crackers, but to tell you the truth, they were only interested in the alcohol. I couldn’t blame them. Now cleansed and detoxed, they were quite animated.

  Martha was smiling triumphantly. “We got them all!”

  Crystal took a swig of beer and gestured toward the trio.

  “You do realize the three of them are all crazy, right?”

  I was trying not to laugh. “Was it that bad?”

  “I’ve been in cycle accidents that have scared me more.”

  Betty appeared exhilarated by the whole ordeal. “Why, Samantha, it was the most exciting encounter, and when we were done, we jumped into the tractor bucket and Crystal raced back to the barn. Although naked to the elements, it certainly felt liberating racing back across those fields.”

  Hazel pushed back some damp, stray hairs. “We got the drop on them. Unfortunately, all six of them sprayed us before we got off our second round.”

  “Luckily, I am a crack shot,” said Martha grinning. “We caught them in the back field. They were as sly as foxes, but thanks to the driving skills of Crystal and…” she turned to Hazel and Betty, nodding, “excellent reinforcements, we nailed those suckers and did the big three’s mighty quick.”

  “What are the big three’s?” I asked, pulling a blank.

  “Out west it means, shoot’em, shovel’em, and shut up.”

  Well, I guess that about sums up this chapter, doesn’t it?

  Chapter 29

  What’s Next?

  I wondered what would happen next? Armed with my hi-tech, adventurous, savvy crew, I was really looking forward to uncovering a lead that would move us along. But with this bunch, there was no predicting anything.

  Now there was a wrinkle thrown into the mix that none of us expected. Clay never returned to the farm that night. Numerous attempts at calling his cell went to voicemail. An unusual silence ca
me over the group.

  No one could figure out what might have happened to him. And no one was willing to speculate, either. So the next morning at the table, everyone ate their breakfast dished out by me for a few minutes in a noticeable veil of silence, a true rarity for this group.

  A clearly disturbed Martha finally said, “I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t either,” said Betty, frowning. “He was the one person we thought we could count on.”

  “What could have happened?” asked Crystal, eyeing me.

  I shrugged. “Hopefully, nothing that can’t be explained away, and nothing we’re going to regret.”

  Having read between the lines, everyone turned to me.

  “What?” I snapped when I realized I’d said too much.

  “Has he ever done this before?” Crystal asked.

  I hated to bring an awkward subject up, but I couldn’t lie. “Yes. Sometimes he just picks up and leaves with no explanation whatsoever, thus our on and off relationship.”

  I could tell that was not what they wanted to hear, but the truth was the truth. He always managed to vanish at the most inopportune times and this definitely qualified as one.

  “Well, what do we do now?” Crystal asked, exasperated.

  My mind was imagining the worst, but rooting for the best. Other than the tractor, he had the only drivable vehicle on the property. Worse yet, what would I tell Sally? I had no intention of buying her a truck. So, he’d better haul butt.

  Knowing Clay’s skills, I knew he could handle himself, regardless of the situation, but I was still worried and didn’t want to let on how much. He was as predictable as an upset stomach right after I’d devoured a whole box of candy, but like an idiot I went back for more, unable to stop myself.

  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but this has been one hell of a day,” said Martha.

  Crystal looked over to her. “I disagree. Every day with you is one hell of a day.”

  Hazel huffed. “She drives Betty and me nuts, too.”

  “Look on the bright side,” said Betty. “She may be over-the-top sometimes, but would we be happy just sitting in a senior center doing bead work all day? We’d go crazy!”

  Ha! So they drove me crazy, instead.

  Chapter 30

  Dissecting Thoughts Not Fit To Print

  Once again, how would I write down what was going on when I didn’t even know myself? My agent and editor already thought my life was over-the-top. I tried to lessen their anxiety for them putting up with my wild capers when I, by some small miracle, seemed to manage at the very last minute to squeak across those deadlines by delivering a somewhat unusual and unexpected mystery.

  The skeptical emails I received from my editor were amusing. After looking at what happens to me from her viewpoint, maybe she was right. It all seemed off-the-wall. At least someone was amused by the absurdity of my life.

  Just when I thought things were looking up in the clue department, I find myself walking down another road that led me to something else. It sure looked as if I had gotten involved in another tangled affair.

  You see, I write like I cook, cleaning up on the fly, but this time, I think I’d have to do a lot more cleaning up than usual. If Clay didn’t get back with a good explanation of why he never responded about what was going on with the Boston angle, I might take a hiatus from this relationship thing because, I felt shortchanged in the trust department.

  Why didn’t he call me?

  I laughed. What relationship? Where was the big sit-down we planned? Out the window, like usual. Something always managed to come up, or one of us got cold feet, finding an excuse from signing on that dotted line.

  Of course, we sort of have this conflict going on about out-besting each other. Hey, a little competition goes a long way, right? Always keep them guessing, that’s my motto. Don’t give the store away. Create demand.

  If he came back and told us there was no suspicious Boston connection, then there had to be something we weren’t getting, or we were looking at it the wrong way. Maybe I could speak to Sally’s neighbor, Jacob, across the street. He was an artist with a home studio.

  Martha and the two bookworms took off for the library to dig up more dirt. Crystal, who was on her way to check out that stallion, whose name she said was Boss, explained he was an old harness racer with a history of being abused.

  Story goes that George approached Sally and Tom about adopting Boss because his wife, Sarah was going to euthanize him. After hearing that, I wondered why? They said yes, of course. But after Sally and Tom tried to unsuccessfully to get Boss used to being with their three gentle horses, Sally decided that rather than give him back to be put to sleep, they would carve out a corral in their property and hopefully one day Boss might just come around with their horses one at a time. I seriously had my doubts though. I mean, come on!

  Odds of that happening were slim to none.

  Chapter 31

  Well-intentioned Intentions?

  Before lunch, I finally received a text. Clay would arrive for a late lunch after being delayed, making one last contact in Boston. He said he had some interesting news.

  As a side note, he added he was sorry about not contacting me, but with all that was going on, and rushing around, he had misplaced his phone, but then found it.

  Yeah, and I am the tooth fairy!

  But I let it slide. I was more interested in what he had to say. By the time I heard tires on the gravel drive, I had lunch already set out on the table with two large pitchers of sweet, southern iced tea, a recent favorite of mine, and some thick turkey club sandwiches, chips, and pickles.

  Everyone was talking away as they came through the door at the same time. Martha, Hazel and Betty were back from the library, and Crystal had returned from her visit to oversee Boss’ food and water. I caught that excited glint in Clay’s eye and motioned him to come over handing him a glass of iced tea and mentally forgave him.

  He was safe.

  “Well, what happened?” I asked, eager to find out.

  The kitchen went silent as everyone turned to hear what Clay had to say. His absence had been a main topic of over-speculation. The subject was exhausted hours ago, but hyperbole and hunches still lingered in the air.

  He smiled and started filling his plate. “I’m starved.”

  Martha edged forward, impatient as usual. “Yeah, yeah, you’re hungry. Big deal. What the heck did you find out?”

  He set his plate down and sat at the table. In minutes, everyone had thrown sandwiches with reckless abandon onto their plates and sat waiting to hear the latest info.

  “What we initially heard,” said Clay, “about Robinson’s relatives not being close-knit was true. They were only concerned with the money angle. But this is where it gets interesting. Robinson had a will in place when he died. It stipulated that his property couldn’t be divided into lots. It was to stay with only one house on it because it had been previously donated in a land conservation easement.”

  I smiled. “So, it could still be sold, but with conditions.”

  “And if a developer bought it for a subdivision, he would then have to pay back about twenty year’s worth of previously reduced taxes to reverse the easement.”

  “Clever! Because that would be cost prohibitive.”

  “Plus, they would have to get zoning permission, but it was the last clause in the will that was the real surprise.”

  “And what was that?” Crystal asked.

  “It instructed that Jackson Porter could graze his cattle on a portion of it for ten years regardless of who owned it.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make sense,” said Crystal.

  “That’s what I thought. Then I found out who Jackson’s mother was, which made it all the more mystifying.”

  Chapter 32

  Hey, You’re Killing Me

  Everyone stared around the group, mentally trying to out-think the other about who this mystery woman might be. There wasn’t one single ni
bble or speculation coming forth, so it was up to Clay to verbally hand it over.

  He leaned back after a few bites of food, taking his sweet old time, drawing out the suspense.

  “Okay, quit dragging it out,” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah,” said Martha. “Spit it out. You’re killing us.”

  “Her name was Helen Mason, and the woman that was murdered during that home invasion, who just so happens to have had those water rights to the well here, remember?”

  Well, you could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. No one, including me, had expected that one.

  “You sure?” Betty asked. “Their names are different.”

  “Anyone can legally change their name. It’s done a lot.”

  “How old was she?” asked Hazel.

  “Fifty-five years old.”

  Now, why would Jackson keep his past quiet?

  I gave Clay a suspicious look. “Exactly how do you find this stuff out? Or shouldn’t we be asking?”

  Clay winked, and stood up. “That’s on a need to know basis. Hey, I’m going for a Harley ride, any takers?”

  I declined. “I think I’ll go walk over to the neighbor’s across the road to see what information I can scare up.”

  Crystal got up. “I can never get enough Harley rides.”

  We were all about to go our separate ways when Martha remembered something. “Speaking of the neighbors, we almost plumb forgot about our library visit.”

  Hazel sat back down. “Why, yes, we did, didn’t we?”

  “I think you will find this interesting, Sam,” said Betty.

  Martha scooted closer to the table. “Remember we told you about Robinson and the lumber truck?”

  “Yeah, what about it?” I asked, leaning in.

  “That woman at the library forgot to mention that her brother’s cousin’s headlights flashed on something the other evening in the most unexpected place.”