“Old Dan don’t belong in there.”
“Wait,” Monica said, holding up a finger. “Listen. What is that?”
We all fell silent. There was a faint keening coming from outside, like an injured bird.
“On my life!” Johnna said, scrambling to her feet. “I think that’s Mike!”
We all ran for the front door only to open it to Elaina Nelson wailing on my front porch.
“Mrs. Nelson,” I said, “what in the world are you doing out here in the freezing cold all alone? Come inside!” I would not be held responsible for a ninety-something-year-old woman coming down with pneumonia from camping out crying on my porch.
“Dan killed a man,” she sobbed, while I hauled her inside and Johnna tucked a throw from the back of my couch around her shoulders.
“Now, he did no such thing, dear,” Johnna said, leading her into the kitchen. “Cameron, make her some tea.”
I did what I was told, and also sent a text to Mia asking her to tell Steph where her great-grandma was. Odds were good that Elaina’s family was looking for her.
Elaina sniveled and sipped her tea, and I felt so terrible that Ben had anything to do with arresting Old Dan that I wanted to crawl under the table and hide. How could he do it? He had to know Dan and Frank would never do such a thing.
I could hear Ben now. It’s my job, Cameron. What did you expect me to do? Break the law and not arrest them?
It was just one more example of how his job as a cop came between us. Of course I wanted him to do the right thing, but in this case I couldn’t see how arresting the oldest person in town was the right thing.
“He won’t survive in a cell,” Elaina said. “He’ll catch his death in there.”
“Cameron Cripps-Hayman,” Roy said, and I knew I was in for it with him calling me by my full name, “why can’t your husband put one of them ankle bracelet thingies on him and let him go home?”
“He won’t go nowhere,” Elaina said, wiping her tears, her brows arched with hope.
“Well, I don’t know. Why don’t I call and find out?” At least it would get me out of the room and away from the accusing stares.
I disappeared into the dining room and dialed Ben’s number, fuming more and more with every ring of his cell phone. “Cam, I don’t have time to talk right now. Why don’t I call you—”
“You listen to me, Benjamin Hayman. I have a crying Elaina Nelson in my kitchen along with a cantankerous Roy. It’s taking all I have not to find you and demand answers, so you’re lucky all you’re getting is a phone call.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh, and I could picture that look on his face, the one he reserved just for me, the mixture of frustration, annoyance, and irritation. “I told you everything I know, now let me get back to work.”
“Do you actually think that old man poisoned Clayton Banks?”
“No. Of course I don’t. But that’s where the flour came from that poisoned him, so we have enough evidence to arrest and hold them. If they aren’t guilty, they’ll be released.”
“Can’t you slap an ankle bracelet on him and let him go home? Prison is no place for a man who’s nearing a century old.”
“He has every comfort, Cam. We’re keeping them in the gate house at Carl’s place.”
“You’re … where will you stay then?”
“I was hoping I could come home.”
“Oh. Well, of course.” I supposed this settled things. He was coming back home. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Cam, I can stay at the Fiddle Dee Doo.”
“No, there’s no reason for that.” This was his house, after all. If I hadn’t determined that I wanted to stay apart after almost a year, then it was time to try to be together full-time again. This was just the push my procrastination needed.
“Okay then,” he said. “I’ll be home in time for dinner with you and Mia.”
“And Monica and Quinn if they’re here,” I added.
“And the pack of dogs we’ve accumulated.”
“And them,” I said, chuckling.
“It’s really become a madhouse over there,” he said, and I heard the laughter in his voice.
“You don’t have to tell me. I haven’t even mentioned Johnna and Logan. Oh, and there’s a knock at the door.”
“It’s probably Andy. You better go answer it. I’ll be home soon.”
He’d be home soon.
I said goodbye and hung up feeling happy, but afraid. This was the plunge off of the high dive I’d been avoiding. I didn’t know why exactly until now, but it hit me that this was our last chance. If it didn’t work this time, it never would. I couldn’t put it off any longer.
As I stepped back into the kitchen, Andy and Monica were coming in from the hallway. “I just heard,” he said. “There’s no way in—”
“I know,” I said. “But I just talked to Ben. Old Dan and Frank aren’t being kept in jail.” I explained what I knew about the men being held at the gate house. “So they’re officially being held, but not behind bars.”
“Well, at least that’s something,” Roy said, patting Elaina gently on the shoulder. “Want a nip in your tea to calm the nerves?” He held out his flask and Elaina nodded, giving him a watery smile.
He poured in a generous amount, almost overflowing her cup. I noticed her right hand was in her lap stroking a black cat. Spook, the cat who showed up and sneaked in somehow, was back. I’d found him inside Carl Finch’s Hilltop Castle once, so I knew he prowled around breaking and entering into people’s homes all over town. The dogs never even seemed to notice him, which was why I took to calling him Spook. He was rather ghostlike, appearing and disappearing at will.
There was another knock on the door. “Come in!” Monica shouted. “What?” she asked me. “I’m tired of answering it. You might as well leave it wide open.”
The door opened and closed, and light footsteps sounded descending the hallway. Then Anna appeared, looking shy and defeated. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “I came right when I heard.”
“Good to have you back,” I said, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the table. “We need the full brain power of the Action Agency to figure this out.”
“Don’t forget us honorary members,” Quinn said.
“We need all the brain cells we can get,” I told him, nodding to Monica and Andy as well.
“Here’s to brain cells,” Roy said, holding up his flask and taking a deep drink.
Good gravy. Maybe AA shouldn’t stand for Action Agency in Roy’s case.
Monica had ushered all of my emotional guests out of the house before Ben got home, then she and Quinn made themselves scarce, going to his house in Connersville for dinner. “I have to check in at the kennel,” Quinn had said. “I’ll keep your sister out of your house tonight.”
“It’s okay,” I told him. “It’s not like she’s a pesky little nine-year-old.”
“Either way, it would be my privilege.” He winked.
Mia texted telling me school was just canceled for the following day and asking to spend the night at Steph’s. She didn’t know Ben was coming home to stay and I was sure he’d want to tell her. Ask your dad, I texted back, feeling like I was channeling my own mother when I wrote it. A few minutes later she sent me another saying that her dad told her it was okay to stay overnight with Steph.
So it would be just Ben and me. Would he have expectations of a romantic reunion? I wandered around the house. The dogs were curled up in the family room sleeping after gorging on freshly baked treats. With everyone gone I could hear the wind blowing against the house, making the walls creak. The cold air coming in from the north was turning all of the day’s melting slush to ice.
I thought about my bees in their hive, clustered together, shivering, wings fluttering, desperate to keep their queen wa
rm. I hadn’t told them about Old Dan, the man who built their bee box and moved them from my porch column. The man who would sit in a lawn chair beside their hive and sing to them. He warned me if I didn’t keep them up to date on the town gossip, they’d swarm.
I knew they were bees. I knew it was folklore, but I also felt responsibility to Old Dan. He’d want them to know.
I bundled up and headed out my front door. The world was made of crystal that shined and shimmered in my porch lights. My boots crunched through the icy snow on the steps. I’d have to ask Andy—no, I didn’t need Andy’s help anymore. Ben could shovel the steps.
I’d become so used to Andy hanging around all the time, what would I do without him? What would he do without a job being my handyman?
I made my way over to the bee box in the yard between the sidewalk and flowerbed. Somehow I’d escaped being fined by the Daughters of Metamora for having it in my front yard. I was certain they found it unsightly, but I didn’t want the dogs anywhere near it—for their safety and that of the bees—so it wasn’t going in my backyard.
“Hello,” I said, leaning toward the top. “It’s me, Cameron. I have some bad news to tell you. Old Dan was arrested today. Don’t worry, he didn’t actually do anything, I’m sure of that. He’ll be released soon. You probably heard all the chatter out here this morning,” I said, leaning against their wooden home, getting comfortable. “Metamora Mike is missing.”
I stood there filling them in on everything from the murders to Ben coming home. I found that once I started talking to the bees, I couldn’t stop. Knowing that they were in there listening, but not offering advice and not judging, had cut my tongue loose. I was so engaged in talking, I didn’t hear Ben pull in the driveway and walk up behind me.
“Are you talking to the bees?” he asked.
I jumped, startled, slid on the icy sidewalk, and flailed, circling my arms like wings trying to save myself from going down. Ben grasped my hand, and Brutus attempted to break my fall, but it wasn’t enough. I fell like a ton of bricks and felt a spike of white hot pain shoot through my wrist.
“I have to be honest Cam, I didn’t picture us spending tonight in the emergency room.” Ben smiled, brushing my hair back from my forehead.
“Expect the unexpected,” I said.
“Oh, I do. I married you, after all.”
Ben’s cell phone buzzed. He had his ringer on silent, but he answered. “I’ll be right there,” he said.
He hung up and said, “That was the coroner. The toxicology report for Clayton is finally finished, so we’ll know if it was a fatal amount of the poisoned darnel that killed him.”
“And if it wasn’t a fatal amount, then it wasn’t the darnel?”
“Yeah, and we can release Old Dan and Frank.” He stood and headed for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Go,” I said, anxious to know the fate of my favorite old timer.
Ben left and the doctor bustled in with a laptop. “It’s broken,” he said. “Let me show you the X-ray.” He showed me the black-and-white photos of my arm and said something about it being a common fracture and nothing to be worried about. He didn’t want to cast it due to the swelling, so it would be wrapped tight and put in a sling. I’d have to come back in a few days to get a cast.
After what seemed like forever, my arm was wrapped up like a mummy and I was given a prescription for pain pills and sent on my way. I texted Ben to tell him I was in the waiting room and released to my destiny. He texted back that he’d get the truck and to watch for him out the windows.
Ben pulled Metamora One around to the ER exit door and helped me up into the cab. “I suppose we should find a pharmacy that’s open and get some fast food, too,” he said.
It was almost ten at night. We’d spent just under five hours at the hospital. Having a past career in a call center environment, I couldn’t help but think in terms of efficiency and productivity. It was always my opinion that hospitals could use a dose of productivity training.
I yawned and nodded. “I could go for a cheeseburger. Oh, that reminds me. I named the twin terrier tanks.” I told him about Colby and Jack.
“I like those names, they’re good, solid names.”
He shut my door and rounded the front of the truck, getting in the driver’s side and heading out of the hospital parking lot.
My mind was hazy from the pain medication the doctor had given me, so it took me a couple minutes to remember what was nagging at me. “Clayton,” I finally said. “What did the report say?”
“It was inconclusive,” he said. “He had a toxic amount of the darnel in his system, but not a fatal amount. He died of cardiac arrest. The coroner isn’t convinced that the darnel attributed to the cardiac arrest, and therefore, his murder. He also had other drugs in his system—medication, whether prescribed or not. That has to be determined as well.”
“What other drugs?” I asked.
“Blood pressure medication,” he said.
“Blood pressure medication shouldn’t kill him though, should it?”
“Not normally, and they weren’t toxic or fatal doses, either. I need to talk to his doctor and find out what he was on and for how long.”
“So are you releasing Old Dan and Frank?”
“That’s for Sheriff Reins to decide. It was his arrest warrant.”
“That doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy, Ben.”
“No, and it shouldn’t.”
“What about Starnes Buntley? It was his wheat. How did Clayton end up eating some?”
“Starnes is being held in Hamilton, Ohio. If the wheat flour killed Clayton, he’s just as responsible as Old Dan and Frank.”
“So what now? If there wasn’t fatal levels of any of the drugs in his system, how do you know he didn’t just have a heart attack and die?”
“The drugs have to be ruled out as the cause. If it was a natural death, the investigation ends and all charges are dropped, of course.”
“But what about Dixon? That wasn’t natural. Don’t you think the same person killed both men?”
“At present, we have no evidence of that. The causes of death are completely different.”
“But they were close friends. That can’t be coincidental.”
“They’re being treated as separate investigations,” he said, and that was his final word on the Dixon case.
The Action Agency had our work cut out for us. The list was a big one. We’d have to, A) prove Clayton was murdered, 2) prove that both murders were committed by the same person, and thirdly, find the killer.
Who was I kidding? It would take nothing short of a miracle this time around.
• Eight •
There was no avoiding it. I had to tell a fib. Well, it was an omission, really. “I’m going to the grocery store,” I told Ben, who was outside getting ready to snow blow and salt the sidewalk. After my fall the evening before, he’d spent the morning buying all of the snow-removal products one man could ever hope to own.
“You can’t shop with your arm in a sling. I’ll go after I clear the driveway,” he said.
I couldn’t think of a way around that one, so I smiled and went back inside. “Darn,” I said after closing the door.
“What’s the matter?” Monica asked, heading toward the washing machine with a clothes basket.
“I need to talk to Jason Banks, but I can’t let Ben know. He’d never let me question him after Jason threatened me.”
“Speaking of which, the scabs on your face are almost gone.”
“That’s the least of my problems,” I said, “but thanks.”
“Can’t you just call him?” Monica opened the closet door that the washer sat behind and started tossing clothes inside.
“I need to see his face to know if he’s telling me the truth. And I want to snoop around the house. I need a wa
y over there.”
“Why don’t we say we’re going somewhere and we’ll stop by Clayton’s house?”
“I can’t ask you to lie to Ben for me.”
She dumped some detergent into the washer and pushed the buttons to get it started. “It’s not lying if we go where we tell him we’re headed. We’ll just make a pit stop on the way.”
This snooping thing was going to be a lot harder with Ben back home.
I went back to the front door and called out to Ben, letting him know that Monica was taking me to the grocery because she needed a few things, too.
“I might like this sister-in-law living with us situation,” he said, giving me a wink. “Be careful.”
We packed ourselves into Monica’s little car and buzzed out to the main road. “Where to?” she asked.
I gave her directions and sat there feeling awful. My arm throbbed and guilt was eating me alive. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
“Would you do it if Ben hadn’t moved back home?”
“Of course, because I wouldn’t have to sneak to do it!”
“You need to be honest with him, give up solving these murders, or get used to fudging the truth. It’s your decision.”
“I know, but it’s not that easy.”
“We’ll get you through this, find the killer, and then it’s over. No more playing crime solver and no more lying.”
I took a deep breath, nodding. “Okay. You’re right. It’s not like this will be the situation forever, just until this is figured out.”
Feeling a little better, I came up with a plan to get inside Clayton’s house. “Do you have any dog treats with you?”
“Of course I do. Boxes full in the back.” Monica pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “Are you planning to bribe Jason with tasty treats?”
“Something like that.”
I dug through my handbag. I had to have a ribbon or twine, something I could tie into a bow to make one of the boxes look like a peace offering present. My pain pills rattled around inside, and all I could come up with was some unraveled yarn that Johnna had given me to use as a bookmark. It wouldn’t be long enough to tie into a bow even if I’d wanted to use it.
Fatal Festival Days Page 8
