“Oh yes,” I said. I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. He could have just been flirting, but all options were appealing.
“Meet me at Reggie Stuckey’s farm. Officers have been out to the house, and they talked to the same housekeeper you talked to. But after your intel, I’d like to get my own take.”
“And I’m invited?”
“There are some perks to dating a cop, you know.”
“Well, yeah, but . . .”
Sam laughed. “If it was a crime scene, you wouldn’t be invited, but since you’ve already been there and I’d like this to be casual . . .”
“Wait. You’re using me as an in? You want me to ease the way for you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I use my connections?”
“Indeed.” I smiled and hoped he heard it. “See you in about twenty.”
The trip back to the Stuckey farm was much quicker than I anticipated. I wasn’t slowed by tractors or pockets of traffic. Sam was at the spot off the main road that led down the other road to the farm. He’d parked his cruiser and was standing next to a recently placed “For Sale” sign as he typed something into his phone. He was in full cop mode, his uniform crisp and his hair smoothly slicked back.
He turned, smiled, and waved as I pulled my truck next to his car.
“Hey,” I said as I joined him by the sign.
“Hey,” he said as he finished typing. “Did you know the farm was for sale?”
“I didn’t see the sign here yesterday, but Ian told me he looked at this farm before he bought the land he now owns.” I looked at the Realtor’s name. I didn’t recognize it. “It must have been put up after I left yesterday.”
“I’m curious as to when the property really was put on the market and who made the decision to do so.”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged.
Sam punched a button on his phone and held the device up to his ear.
“Vivienne, call this Realtor and ask her for details regarding the Stuckey farm being listed for sale. Ask who put it on the market and when.” He recited the Realtor’s name and phone number that was written on the sign. “And has anyone checked if Stuckey had a life insurance policy or a will or something that would make someone a decision-maker regarding the sale of the farm? Uh-huh. Good. Well, check again, deeper maybe. Check with the bank just to be sure. We’re missing a connection that needs to be found. Thanks. Yeah, call me back. Thanks again.” He closed his phone and then peered down the road and fell into thought.
“Sam, should we get in there and see Gellie and Batman?”
“Batman?”
“The goose.”
“That’s right. You mentioned the goose. I think we should. Let’s leave your truck here. You can ride in the police car and tell me about your meeting with Evelyn.”
“Can I drive?”
“No.”
“Someday, I’m sure you’ll let me. I guess you have to get really serious about someone to let them drive your police car.”
I’d heard that Sam had taken charge of the Monson police motor pool, small though it might be, and he required all officers to pass annual refresher courses before he allowed them to drive. I’d overheard some of them groan good-naturedly about his strict rules and his protectiveness over the department’s vehicles.
His blue eyes looked hard into mine as he seemed to think for a beat or two. He wasn’t bothered by my teasing, but there was something about the intensity of his stare that made me stand still and stare back.
A second later, he half smiled. “I take my police department–issued vehicles very seriously. I’ll get your door, though.”
“Thank you,” I said as I looked away. I tried not to let him see that he’d once again taken my breath away and made my heartbeat race almost to the point of discomfort.
For some reason I didn’t want him to know how often he upped my blood pressure. I was a bit too old and too often divorced for such silliness.
Sam held open the passenger-side door and I climbed in. The smirk on his face and the subtle roll of his eyes told me he’d seen my teenager-ish reaction.
“Don’t forget, Becca, it’s really okay to have strong feelings for someone you’re in a relationship with. I don’t know much, but I’m pretty sure I know that.”
“Damn,” I said as he closed the door.
“Now, tell me about Evelyn,” he said as he got in the driver’s side and started the car.
Since I’d only just left Smithfield, it was easy to remember the details of our conversation. I quickly told Sam the specifics as he guided the cruiser down the again surprisingly smooth dirt road that led to the Stuckey farm.
He listened attentively, but even he couldn’t maintain his stern cop attitude when we entered the valley and became part of the beautiful snow-globe-like scene.
“Wow,” he said. “This is amazing. I can’t believe Reggie Stuckey ever set foot outside his property. This is something.”
“I got the impression he didn’t leave much. He never pushed his tree business like he could have. Gellie said he had customers, but not many.”
“I almost wouldn’t want any. I’d want to leave the trees as they are.”
“I agree, but there must be need for some rotation, some need to harvest and plant. I don’t know a thing about pine trees, so don’t quote me.”
“We could pick one up here,” Sam said.
“Tempting, but I already told Denny we’d come up to his place and cut one down up there. Speaking of Denny . . . you saw Brenton’s behavior toward the Ridgeways. Even though Brenton didn’t tell you anything, have you talked to the Ridgeways?”
“I have, and I don’t know one thing more. They were all very quiet.”
“I know. I asked Billie why she was upset the first day they were there. She came out of the market and looked panicked. Since Brenton had already shown signs of irritation, I chalked up her behavior to maybe seeing him. She claimed she hadn’t been upset at all, and that I was misinterpreting.”
“Huh, didn’t know that part. I’ll look at it closer,” Sam said.
A Santa hat–clad person stepped out from the main copse of trees and waved in our direction, interrupting the conversation. It took a second for me to recognize Gellie. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, and even though the large hat struck me as being in better condition than Jeannine’s, it folded forward and covered part of her face.
“There. That’s Gellie.”
Sam pulled the cruiser next to the spot from which Gellie had emerged.
“Oh, hi!” she said. “You’re Becca from yesterday, right? Come back for more muffins?”
I smiled. “They were delicious, but I wanted to show Sam the farm. It’s beautiful.”
In fact, I didn’t think that Sam was using me as an in. He could handle that on his own, but it suddenly seemed like a good idea so I went with it.
“Sam, hi,” Gellie said as she walked to him and extended her hand. “You two . . .”
“We’re dating,” Sam said. He sent me another amused look.
“Oh, the police have already been here. I just wondered.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Gellie. This place is amazing,” Sam said.
“It is, isn’t it? I haven’t worked here long, but I’m sure going to miss being here.”
“Maybe the new owner will want a housekeeper?” I said.
“That would be great, but I can’t count on it.”
“What’re you doing out here with a Santa hat?” I said.
“Someone has to come out to greet the few customers we have. I sold two trees about an hour ago. I had to catch the people before they drove away. The Archers should be here shortly, but I didn’t want people to go without their trees.”
“Gellie, do you know who put up the ‘For Sale’ sign?” Sam asked.
“I do. Right after Becca left yesterday, a Realtor stopped by and said she was hired to put the house on the market right away.”
“Did she say who she was hired by?” Sam asked.
“See, I asked the same question, but she wouldn’t tell me. I thought it was sneaky, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to still be showing up here, so who am I to question what anyone is doing? I have her card inside. You want it?”
“Yes, thanks.”
The now-familiar quack of a goose pulled our attention across to the other side of the property.
“That’s Batman,” I said to Sam. “What’s he doing?” I said to Gellie.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. Stupid animal just likes to run and hear himself talk. I hope he hasn’t stolen something again.”
I wondered who’d take care of Batman when Gellie wasn’t around. She read my mind.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get forgotten. I’ve been feeding him, and I will until someone tells me to go away.”
It was evident that she liked him more than she wanted to let on.
Gellie looked at Sam. “You think you should tell me to go away?”
“No, ma’am, in fact, I’m glad you’ve stuck around. It would be sad to see this place quickly fall apart because no one paid attention to it.”
“Good. Well then, you two want to come in? I’ll get the card and you can look around the place? Oh, don’t give me that surprised look. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you’re a cop, and you’re looking very cop-like. You’re probably truly friendly, too, but you want to take a look around the place, don’t you?”
Sam smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“You too, huh?” she said to me.
“Yes.”
“Come on in.”
From the outside, the house looked like it should be the focal point of famous artists’ paintings. From the inside, it was almost as perfect as a house could get. Each room on the first floor was comfortably and traditionally furnished. Each space was big enough not to feel crowded and yet not so big that a person felt lost. Even though the space wasn’t open, the rooms flowed nicely. I’d been so focused on the kitchen the day before that I hadn’t really noticed everything else.
“Did Reggie have an office in the house?” Sam asked Gellie after she gave him the Realtor’s card.
“Yes, upstairs. The other officers looked around up there, but go ahead and do whatever you need to do. I hope you find a clue to the killer.”
Sam’s main intention had been to take a close look at things like paperwork in drawers and other things cops look for to give them clues, so after Gellie’s first floor tour, he and I took the stairs up to the second floor.
The office was one of the longer rooms, located at the back of the house. French doors led to a small balcony, which overlooked a stretch of South Carolina countryside that was mostly hidden from the rest of the world. It was pristine and almost untouched, and I hoped it stayed that way for a long time.
In the short few minutes I’d known Reggie, I hadn’t thought he leaned toward sophisticated tastes that included tobacco pipes and rich, dark woodwork, but his office told me differently.
The floor and wall-to-wall bookshelves were crafted from a dark cherrywood that shone as though Gellie had just dusted and oiled everything in sight. The large desk matched the other woodwork, and the two leather chairs and couch were tanned and subtle against their background. A small, glass-topped table flanked one of the chairs. Atop it sat a pipe and a bag of tobacco, both seemingly unused, even though a rich tobacco scent hung in the air.
“I wonder if the new owners would let me rent just this room from them,” I said.
Sam, all business, was peering into the desk’s drawers. “You could ask.”
“I wouldn’t get any work done. I’d just sit here, read, and sniff.”
Sam didn’t respond, so I looked up.
“Find anything?” I asked as I joined him.
“Not a thing. The file drawer is empty. Completely.”
We looked through the other drawers and found only a few pens, pencils, and one unused notebook.
“No computer, no files, no fax machine. Nothing,” I said.
“I’m beginning to think he had an office somewhere else. Let’s ask Gellie if she knows.”
Sam determined there wasn’t anything else to see in the office, so we continued the rest of the tour.
“This house is comfortable but not lived in, not really,” Sam commented as we looked into a seemingly unused bathroom. “It’s obvious that Reggie spent time in his bedroom and the family room and kitchen downstairs, but everywhere else is so . . . not touched. Even the pipe scent in the office isn’t smoky; it’s more tobacco than smoke. He didn’t spend a lot of time in there.”
“Gellie said it was recently remodeled. The Realtor won’t have to do a thing. She could have an open house right this second and the place would probably sell quickly,” I said.
Sam’s eyebrows came together but he didn’t say anything as he turned and opened a linen closet in the hallway.
“You don’t suppose he not only had an office somewhere else, but another house, too?” I said as we both looked at the perfectly folded towels and washcloths.
“Let’s go find Gellie,” Sam said.
• • •
“Well, I haven’t been here all that long, but he was around most of the time,” Gellie said. She served us cookies, something she called gingerbread biscuits, and I was trying to figure out how to take the entire plate when she wasn’t looking. I’d already considered the idea of putting them down the front flap of my overalls. Maybe I could blame Batman.
“What did he do when he was here?” Sam asked.
Gellie shrugged. “Mostly he worked outside. I’m not here in the evenings. Well, I wasn’t; now I stay a little later to make sure Batman isn’t in trouble. What am I going to do with that goose?” She looked at Sam.
“I’d say call animal control. They might be able to find him a good home, but I bet that’s not what you want to do,” he said.
“No, I’m not ready to do that. I’ll just keep trying to figure it out.”
“Gellie, I saw a small shed outside, but I’m not sure how far back and over the hills the property extends. Is there any chance there’s another building somewhere?”
Gellie shook her head, the ball from the Santa hat bouncing off her cheek. “I’m not really sure, but I don’t think it goes far. Oh, wait, of course! I bet you didn’t look in the garage. I bet the other officers didn’t, either.”
“No.” Sam stood. I eyed the cookies first and then stood, too.
“I didn’t even think about it. He stored that big truck . . . the one he was . . . well, he stored it right around the side of the house, kind of behind the garage. He had an office of sorts . . . well a desk at least, set up in the garage. I’ve been so flustered, I didn’t even think to see if anyone looked out there. I’m so sorry.”
“No problem, we’ll look now.”
Gellie led the way. “I’m getting to be too old for my own good. I really should have said something earlier.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. Sam wasn’t happy that he hadn’t already thought to search the garage and that the other Monson officers might not have, either.
He followed Gellie and I followed him as we weaved down a back hallway behind the kitchen. It was the first hint I’d had that this house was old. I quietly tapped the wall and thought it was made of lath and plaster. And the old, wood floor was scratched and dull. This part of the house hadn’t been given a remodel.
“Reggie wasn’t secretive at all. A little odd and mumbly but not really secretive,” Gellie said from the front of our line. I’d already told Sam about his Ridgeway mumbles. “But a couple times he just appeared in the kitchen when I wasn’
t expecting him. He showed me this back hallway and explained that this is the easiest way back into the house from the garage. I wondered why he needed to come in through the garage if he never went anywhere; that’s when he told me that he had tools and a desk back here. I never even came out to see what he was talking about. Maybe that’s why I didn’t remember.”
“Why do you suppose he did that? He had a great office in this great house.”
“Not sure, except that . . . well, this sounds stupid, but I think he liked to hang out with Batman and he couldn’t do that inside for long stretches of time. Oh, sometimes he could, but do you know how much a goose poops?”
“No,” I said.
“Lots. That creature gets into the house all the time, but I try to shoo it out before it causes too much damage.”
“I see,” I said.
Gellie pushed through a door that opened to a spacious garage. My second ex-husband, Scott, would have used the space to create a fully equipped car-shop garage, but Reggie must not have been into fixing things.
Except for the far wall, there wasn’t much to see. There was no vehicle, which Sam noted. Reggie did have a truck other than his large delivery truck registered in his name. Sam wanted to know where it had gone.
The shelves against the far wall were full, however—full of the things you might expect to find at a Christmas tree farm. There were boxes of sharp implements similar to what I’d seen in Reggie’s chest. I shivered when I saw the cold, casually stored spikes. Two axes made an X as they leaned against one of the bottom shelves.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a gun-like trigger mechanism that was stored on a shelf with a full supply of cans with yellow labels. The mechanism had a long tube that was in a loose circle on the floor, and it was attached to a generator.
“I believe it’s a flocking gun. You attach the can and shoot the contents at a tree,” Sam said.
I looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“White stuff to flock a tree, make it look like it has snow on it.”
“Oh.”
The shelves were full of other, less interesting things like hammers and a couple wrenches. It was a poorly stocked garage, tool wise, but a desk in a back corner proved to be much more interesting.
5 Merry Market Murder Page 14
