“Did you notice where it was mailed from?”
“Of course. I memorized everything about that piece of paper. She wasn’t in Missouri, but in Frankfurt, Minnesota. When I was at the library I looked it up on the map. So many miles away, but when I held that letter in my hands, I felt as if she was at my side.”
“What was she doing in Minnesota?”
Eagerly, Jacob turned to me. “I can recite the contents of her letter if you are interested.”
My heart ached for this young man. Such love and devotion and it was going nowhere. But I could tell he wanted to say the words that were imprinted on his soul. “Yes,” I said. “I’d like to hear her letter.”
Jacob licked his lips and closed his eyes. “My darling, Jacob. I miss you more than I can possibly say. You are my friend and lover rolled into one fine man. It is hard to find the words to write what I want to tell you. If you were here, I’d sing of my love. But if you were beside me, there would be no need for words or songs.”
Jacob’s voice broke, but he kept quoting. “I went to work at Parker Greenhouse, but they transferred me up north. The river is close to my cabin. A spring keeps me in comforts that I need, but you do without.”
I frowned. Jacob must not have memorized that sentence correctly. It didn’t make sense, but I didn’t interrupt.
Jacob continued, “Before I left Missouri, I had this picture taken. I wanted you to see that I could be an Amish wife you would be proud of, even though you’ve said we can never marry. I wish I had your sensible, insightful character, but I feel only with my heart, which is broken. Perhaps that explains why I’m giving away the last link I have to you. If I were whole, I might do things differently. I pledge you my eternal love, Dixie.”
In my mind I pictured the woman I’d met at Coventry Acres. I tried to compare that person to the author of the letter Jacob had recited to me. The two images seemed incompatible. Yet the Dixie I’d physically faced was a mere shell of a woman; there wasn’t enough substance to draw an understanding of the Dixie Ragsford Jacob had loved.
I would have liked to ask questions about what an Amish man and a wannabe country music singer had in common. It sounded as if they’d discussed the future. How had they understood each other’s hopes and dreams when they were worlds apart? Surely they knew their relationship wasn’t going anywhere?
While those lines of inquiry might have satisfied my curiosity, they had nothing to do with Marnie’s murder. Keeping Sid’s remark about the “here and now” uppermost in mind, I asked, “Why did you take a job at Parker Greenhouse?”
“I am moving to Illinois to work in a cabinet shop and to find a wife. Before I left Missouri, I had to see this place. It was the last location I knew Dixie had been except for the cabin she mentioned. I do not know where that is. The envelope only said Frankfurt, Minnesota, and a post office box number.”
Jacob glanced at me. “What I told you about Rumschpringes was true. I have left home to decide if I want to take my Amish vows. But in my heart if I’d found Dixie at Parker Greenhouse, I’d have gone anywhere with her.”
“Did you have reason to think she would be here?”
“No, but I hoped.”
“Have you told anyone here about Dixie?”
“No. No one.”
“What about Marnie?”
“I didn’t talk about Dixie by name. Marnie asked if I’d been in love. I told her I used to know a woman who’d worked here a couple years ago. She’d gone out of my life but not out of my heart. Marnie understood. She said Eugene wanted her to be his special girl, but she wasn’t interested. She said she’d never been in love, but Eugene wasn’t her idea of the perfect man.”
“Did Marnie question you about Dixie?”
“She asked if I’d seen or talked with her since she’d left here. I said I’d gotten a letter from her when she was transferred up north.”
My heart skipped a beat. This had to be the clue that had made Marnie ask to see the personnel files. “What did Marnie say when you mentioned that?”
“I don’t think she said anything. We dropped the subject.”
“Did you know Marnie came to work here because she was looking for another woman who’d been transferred up north?”
“No. Not till I heard you say so at the greenhouses a while ago.”
Switching back to the contents of the letter, I asked, “What did Dixie mean when she said she was ‘giving away the last link I have to you’?”
His brow wrinkled. “I’ve thought about that many times, but I don’t know what she was talking about.”
“Did you give her a necklace, a trinket, some gift?”
“Nothing.”
Deputy Swanson’s radio squawked. I glanced over and saw he’d sidled closer. He had a pen in hand and his notebook open. It was obvious he’d been listening and taking notes. At first I was irritated, but then I relaxed. At least I wouldn’t have to update Sid on this new information.
The deputy gave me a sly grin, then turned to speak into his walkie-talkie. His body stiffened. He listened intently. All I could hear was Swanson’s crisp reply. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. She’s right here. Got it.” He crossed to us and said, “Let’s go.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked as we were herded over the Moon Bridge and down the path to the lodge driveway.
The deputy’s voice was disapproving. “I was told by the sheriff that if you asked I was to tell what we know so far.”
“Well?” I said. “I’m asking.”
Swanson heaved a sigh. “A woman was attacked in Lakeview Estates with a pipe wrench. She sustained massive head injuries. Her husband found her body in the foyer of their home. She died on the way to the hospital without regaining consciousness.”
I stopped on the path and whispered, “Shannon Plummer Taylor?”
Swanson’s eyes widened. “Yes, ma’am. Looks like the sheriff was right.”
Shannon dead? I pictured her as I’d last seen her, eyes filled with fear, her beautiful face distorted with anger. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Absently, I asked, “What do you mean, it looks like the sheriff was right?”
“He said I wouldn’t have to supply the name of the victim. You’d know.”
Yeah, I knew plenty. I knew that just a short time ago I’d stood among the suspects and said that Shannon was edgy when I’d mentioned Parker Greenhouse. I might as well have said, “Killer, go get her before she spills everything she knows.”
My frustration and anger grew as we strode along the path. By the time we got to the entrance into the gardens I was seething. “We have to make sure everyone is on the premises,” I said sharply. “If someone is missing they’d better have a damned fine alibi.”
The deputy’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am! Except that’s already being handled. Here comes Deputy Carter with that information.”
The man was young and cocky, sauntering along like he had all day. He motioned to his fellow officer to step away from us so they could have a private chat. I wasn’t having any of that. I was overstepping boundaries right and left, but the fact that Shannon had been murdered drove protocol out of my head.
“Are they all here?” I demanded.
Carter looked at me as if I’d sprouted horns and a forked tail, which wasn’t far from wrong. I was feeling as mean as the devil. When Carter didn’t answer, I turned an evil glare on him. “Did you personally see Eugene, Jess, Irma, Donovan, Harley and—uh—Natalie here on these grounds or at the greenhouse?”
The younger officer looked to the older one for guidance. Swanson shrugged. “The sheriff says to tell Mrs. Solomon whatever she wants to know.”
Uncertain, Carter, said, “All are accounted for except for Harley. He’s gone to the bus station to pick up some freight.”
In a no-nonsense tone, I asked, “How long has he been gone?”
Deputy Carter shuffled his feet. It was obvious he didn’t like answering a civilian’s questions. Reluctantly, he said, “About thirty minutes
.”
I made some fast calculations. “If he’s been gone thirty minutes, he should be arriving shortly, unless he made a detour to Lakeview Estates. Is there any way you can check to see if he’s at the bus station?”
Carter rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. Swanson’s lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “It’s being done, Mrs. Solomon. An officer has already been dispatched to that location. I think we have things under control.”
Instead of taking offense at his smug tone, I only felt relief. Let these officers think what they wanted. I didn’t care as long as the murderer was caught before he killed—“Dixie!” I said in a strangled tone. “If the killer is tying up loose ends, he may go after her, too.”
“Who is Dixie?” asked Carter.
Jacob grabbed my arm. “Do you think she is in danger?”
I patted his hand. “I don’t know.” To Carter, I said, “There isn’t time to explain. Get Sid on that radio. I have to talk to him.” Both men stared at me but neither moved. I lowered a fierce glare on Swanson. “My involvement in this case is unique, but there it is. Why question it? I want to talk to Sid.”
Swanson put the walkie-talkie to his lips. I didn’t hear what he said, but after a moment, he handed me the radio. Unaccustomed to using the apparatus, I shouted, “This is Bretta, Sid. I’m worried about Dixie Ragsford’s safety. She’s at Coventry Acres, remember?”
“You don’t have to scream,” said Sid. “We stopped using tin cans and string last week. I can hear you just fine.”
I lowered my voice, but anxiety kept my tone high-pitched. “I think Dixie needs protection. Can you send someone out there? Someone who knows the situation and can be on his toes?”
Sid’s tone was as dry as lint. “Will I do?”
chapter Sixteen
Jacob begged the deputies to take him to Coventry Acres so he could be with Dixie. When his request was denied, he didn’t argue, but walked away. Sid pulled Swanson off guard duty and sent him to the crime scene at Lakeview Estates. Deputy Carter was miffed at having to stick around when the action was elsewhere.
I hung around the loading dock waiting for DeeDee to get off work. I felt as if a shadow had crept across my life, eclipsing the sunlight. Shannon was dead. Jacob’s spirits were crushed, while Mrs. Cooper kept a vigilant watch by her front window in hopes that her daughter would return. I was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.
I glanced at my watch. It was almost twenty minutes before DeeDee would be leaving. I couldn’t stand still. I walked past the loading dock, down the length of the greenhouses and across the employees’ parking lot. The clank of metal on metal drew me down steps to a concrete pad. Jess had the door open to the pump house and was hammering on a motor.
“Damned piece of junk,” he said.
“Trouble?” I asked.
He looked over his shoulder. “I told Dan two weeks ago we needed to replace pump number five, but he said to hold out until it wouldn’t pull water. Well, that’s happened.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s too late today to go into town and buy another. I have plants wilting in F, G, and H greenhouses. I’ll have to hook up to another pump, which will take time and put added strain on that motor.”
I walked around the wooden structure and gazed at the landscape. It had been years since limestone had been quarried from this land, but the excavation had left its mark. The mined pit had filled with water and dominated the immediate view. It covered more than an acre and was crystal clear, reflecting the sky’s azure blue color. Deep ruts bore testimony that heavily laden trucks had once carried cargo from the quarry’s rim. A piece of an old conveyor lay abandoned, choked in weeds.
When I lifted my gaze beyond the lake, a curtain of vegetation shielded the remaining property. Sumac, buck brush, wild elderberry, and blackberry briars grew in a snarl beneath the canopy of trees. The thicket was a natural border, barring humans from trespassing.
Jess had come out of the pump house to stand next to me. I nodded to the view. “When I’m on top of the bluff with its manicured lawns and cultivated gardens, I forget how wild the rest of the property is.”
With the toe of his work shoe, Jess nudged a tendril of Virginia creeper that had eased its way onto the concrete pad. “We might forget, but Mother Nature hasn’t. She’s always looking for ways to reclaim her domain. We have to keep a constant vigil if we want to maintain control.”
He picked up his tools and sighed. “Some days it don’t seem worth the trouble. We’re standing on a thousand acres of brush, weeds, and trees. When the Osage River overflows its banks during the rainy season, the valleys flood, leaving behind trash and silt.”
Jess turned away and headed up the steps. I followed, listening to him talk. “About eight years ago, some man came around selling aerial photographs that he’d taken of this place. Dan bought one and hung it in his study. The picture shows five more quarries filled with water. A couple old shacks his greatgrandfather used when he was hunting. But none of it is easy to get to unless you hanker for bugs and briars.”
Jess stopped on the parking lot to gaze around him. “With its family history every inch should be well tended. If it belonged to me, I’d hire a bulldozer so I could make the whole damned place accessible, not just this corner.”
Embarrassed, he glanced at me. “Don’t think I’m being critical of Dan. He’s a good man. He built this profitable business on nothing but a piece of land and the desire to succeed. I admire that.” He ran a hand over his sweaty face. “I’d better get busy. I’ve got plants wilting.” He walked away.
I looked off into the distance but saw nothing except trees and more trees. What lay beyond them? Jess had said five water pits and a couple of hunting shacks. My eyes narrowed thoughtfully. But Dixie, Shannon, and Paige had gone “up north.”
A car’s engine roared to life on the employees’ parking lot. The workers were leaving. I arrived at the loading dock just as DeeDee came out the door. She was listening to the young woman who’d been sitting next to her in the break room. The woman didn’t look sick now. Her expression was animated. Her eyes sparkled as she waved her hands, illustrating some point she was trying to make.
DeeDee nodded and smiled until she caught sight of me. I watched her sneak a quick peek at her car in the parking lot. She took a couple of steps in that direction before I called, “Miss, I was wondering if I could have that recipe for brownies? They were fabulous.”
DeeDee stopped and summoned up a tight smile. Her companion said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walked to the parking lot, digging in her handbag. She pulled out a couple of crackers and popped one into her mouth. She was a slender woman but had the makings of a paunch.
“Your new friend seems to have gotten over her sick spell,” I said.
“Alicia h-has an u-ulcer. S-She has to w-watch what s-she e-eats.”
I wanted to say she watched the food as it disappeared down her gullet, but I refrained. Alicia’s stomach woes were the least of my worries. Aware of people moving around us, I said softly, “We need to talk, but this isn’t the place. I’ll call you later. You will be home?”
DeeDee’s eyes widened as she looked past me. “N-Natalie!” she said under her breath. “I-I have to go or s-she’ll r-recognize m-me.”
“That doesn’t matter. Your undercover work is over.” I took a step toward DeeDee. I was going to tell her there had been another murder, that it was too dangerous for her to keep up this charade, but she scampered to her car.
Thoroughly exasperated, I turned and saw Natalie gazing after DeeDee. Catching my eye, Natalie said, “That looked like the young woman—”
Conscious of the other workers leaving, I hastily said, “Yes, that’s the woman who brought the fabulous brownies. I asked for the recipe and she said she’d bring it to work tomorrow.” If I had my way, DeeDee wouldn’t show up for work. But for safety’s sake, I didn’t want her associated with me.
Using a diverting tactic, I said, “So, what’s on for ton
ight? Have you scorched another meal for our supper? Or are we having bologna sandwiches again?”
Pride in her cooking skills brought Natalie’s chin up. “As it so happens,” she said. “I’ve fixed us a fine meal, and it’s even low-cal.”
“Great,” I said, trying for some enthusiasm. It didn’t happen. I wanted to stuff my face with something gooey concocted from cheese or chocolate or whipped cream. If nuts or caramel or a flaky crust were included on the menu then so much the better.
Natalie frowned. “I thought you’d be happy with low-cal. Aren’t you dieting?”
“I guess, but I was hoping to eat at least one of your famous dishes while I was here. With Dan coming home tomorrow, I’ll be leaving.”
Natalie’s face lit up. “Tomorrow. I can hardly wait.” Her shoulders slumped. “Which means his orchids had better be in excellent condition. I’m on my way over to his greenhouse to check on them. You want to come with me before we go up to the house?”
“Yeah. Sure,” I muttered, falling into step next to her. I wasn’t in the mood for the orchid house. I was hungry.
“What’s wrong?” said Natalie giving me a sidelong glance. “You surely can’t be upset over a low-cal meal. I saw you talking with those deputies and one of them left. Has there been a new development in Marnie’s death?”
“Yes, but I can’t talk about it. Sid asked me not to say anything.”
“You talked to Sid?” When I nodded, Natalie said, “No wonder you look out of sorts. Will it put a smile on your face if I tell you we’re having blueberry cheesecake for dessert?”
I grimaced. “I guess a single ray of sunshine is better than none.
“Don’t be a gloomy Gus, Bretta. Let’s celebrate. Dan is coming home.”
“Yeah. Celebrate.”
Natalie’s voice was sharp. “I’m upset about Marnie’s death, too, but for tonight, can’t we leave the investigation in the authorities’ expert hands?”
I heaved a sigh. “All right,” I said but I didn’t sound happy about it.
Reap a Wicked Harvest Page 15
