“Glad to hear that we hindered you a little,” Junior said.
Clara went on, “But the real reason is that dead man I told you about. I was the one who had to break the news to his wife. She was pregnant at the time, and she lost the baby afterward.”
I felt a cold breeze, and wasn’t sure whether it was real or not.
“I decided then that it was time for a change. It took a while to talk the rest of the family into it, but eventually they agreed it was for the best.”
“But if y’all aren’t in the business anymore, why the cameras and fences?”
“After generations of being moonshiners, we Todgers prefer our privacy.” Her smile told me that was all the answer I was going to get.
Chapter 14
Once Junior had driven us out the gate, and I was reasonably sure that there weren’t any cameras aimed so that anybody could read my lips, I said, “Was Clara telling the truth about the family just wanting privacy?”
“Heck if I know, Laurie Anne,” Junior said. “I do know that the Todgers were originally mountain folk, and a lot of mountain folk keep to themselves, so that may be all there is to it. Then again, some people say they’ve got a cult in there, snake handlers or people speaking in tongues. Others claim there’s a battered women’s and children’s shelter, or a retreat for ex-hippies to hide from the FBI. All I know is that an awful lot of food and supplies go in there.”
“Weird,” was all I could say. “I was surprised she was still protecting Seth’s still, especially since she didn’t like him.”
“She wasn’t,” Junior said. “She was protecting Jake. Maybe David, too, but probably just Jake.”
“What did I miss?”
“Clara won’t give up anybody in the business. You remember how she talked about the delivery man but never mentioned his name, and he’s been gone for twenty years. If I hadn’t already known Seth was a moonshiner, and if he weren’t dead to boot, Clara would never have admitted it.”
“Really?”
“By the same token, she won’t reveal the location of a working still, and you can bet she knows the location of every working still around here.”
“So by her not telling you where Seth’s still is, this tells you that it’s currently in use, and since Jake worked with Seth, he’s the one who’ll be using it.”
“Right. I wasn’t really expecting to find out where the still is. I just wanted to know if Jake was going to stay in the business. Now I know.”
I replayed the conversation in my head, trying to decide if I’d missed anything else. “Clara kind of talked in circles when you asked what Seth had been planning on doing. What do you think that means?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but I was wondering about what your cousins said about that fight between Jake and Seth.”
“Do you think Jake might have wanted Seth to start selling their stuff around here instead of shipping it up North?”
“Could be.”
“That really puts Jake in the running as Seth’s killer, doesn’t it?” I said. “Because they’d been fighting, and because now Jake can run the business any way he wants.”
“Right.”
Then I thought of Jake’s reaction when told Seth was dead. “I don’t know, Junior, he really seemed to be upset about his daddy’s death.”
“What if he’d killed Seth accidentally?” Junior pointed out. “Say Seth said he was going to close down the still, which would leave Jake without a way to make a living. Jake could have tried to talk him out of it, and when that didn’t work, he got carried away and hit him. He’d been working on sets, so he could have been holding a piece of wood when he went to talk to Seth.”
I said, “Do you suppose he would have realized Seth was dead? Maybe he thought he was just knocked out, and hoped Seth wouldn’t remember who’d hit him.” I’d read that head trauma tends to play games with memory, especially the memories of how a person came to be knocked out.
“I think I’d have known right off,” Junior said, “but I’ve had more experience with dead bodies than Jake has.”
“Unless bootlegging is a whole lot more dangerous than I thought.” I went back over some of what Clara had told us. “You know, Clara is the first person I’ve run into that didn’t like Seth.”
“I know, and that bothers me.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked him myself. Daddy liked him, even though Seth kept running circles around him. I don’t know if you realize it, but cops sometimes do like the people we’re going after. Sometimes it’s a matter of respect for another professional.”
“Like you and Clara?”
“Exactly. Daddy knew Seth was moonshining, and Seth knew Daddy knew, but that didn’t stop them from being friendly when they ran into one another. When Seth’s wife passed away, Daddy even sent flowers.”
“Maybe Clara misjudged him. She said herself it was just because of that accident, and I can’t blame her for that. It must have been awful.”
“It might have made a decent motive, too, if it hadn’t been so long ago.”
“I suppose so.” Then I thought of something. “You know, if Seth did cause that accident, then he’s indirectly responsible for the Todgers getting out of moonshining. Could that be a motive? Maybe not for Clara, but somebody else in the family.”
“Laurie Anne, do you remember how Clara said that if she’d wanted Seth dead, he’d have been gone long ago? That goes for her whole family.”
“That’s scary.”
“You bet it is,” Junior agreed. “I’m just glad they’ve never wanted anybody dead—that I know of, anyway.”
I shivered. I’d run into people who’d killed for one reason or another, but each of them had killed for emotional reasons. Clara was the first person I’d ever met who I thought would kill calmly. And the funny thing was, I liked her.
“Well, we didn’t get a whole lot out of the visit,” I said, “though that stuff about organized crime could be promising. A sneak thief probably couldn’t have snuck in on Seth, but a professional hit man could have.”
“We still have the problem of how a hit man knew where Seth was going to be.”
“What about my idea of them setting up a meeting?”
“They could have done that,” Junior said, “but considering how careful Seth had been all his life, why would he have arranged something like that in the middle of a rehearsal? Where anybody from the town’s biggest gossip to the chief of police could have walked in on him?”
“True. Umm … when you talk about the town’s biggest gossip, you do mean Vasti, don’t you?”
“Laurie Anne, I’ve never thought you were a gossip. Nosy, yes, but not a gossip.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
She ignored me. “Besides, why would Seth have been a big enough threat to any Mafia types for them to kill him? According to Clara, he was either going to shut down or start distributing locally, which is exactly what they would have wanted him to do.”
“You’re right. It just sounded like a nice, neat answer. In fact, I’m surprised Mark hasn’t jumped on it. He could still claim it was an outsider and not be expected to actually find the killer. Nobody would hold it against him if he couldn’t track down a Mafia hit man. Of course, that assumes that he’s heard about these guys being around. Does he know Clara?”
Junior shook her head. “I’ve never told anybody about the Todgers other than you, and Daddy never told anybody but me. But if the other moonshiners are as nervous as Clara says they are, Mark could have picked up on the rumor easily enough.”
“I wonder why he hasn’t. Or do you think he’s keeping it quiet?”
“I keep telling you, I don’t know what Mark’s thinking,” she said sharply.
“Sorry,” I said.
After a few minutes of strained silence, she said, “I’m sorry, too, Laurie Anne. This situation’s got me on edge. I don’t like not being in charge.”
“That’s a
ll right.” I patted my tummy. “With the little one here, I feel out of control myself. According to my aunts, once the baby arrives, I’m not going to be in control of much of anything for a long time to come.”
Chapter 15
We got back to the rehearsal just in time to stave off another tantrum—not from Richard, for a change, but from Kyle, one of Junior’s nephews. Kyle was playing Tiny Tim and was refusing to use his crutch because he claimed it hurt him. He’d just thrown it down from the stage when we walked in, and Junior immediately took charge of him.
On stage, Richard was running his fingers through his hair as he watched the other young Gratchits indulge in a shoving match while their onstage parents tried not to laugh. “Could somebody please retrieve Tiny Tim’s crutch?” he said in a tight voice.
“I’ll get it,” I said, and picked it up. I was surprised Kyle was putting up such a fuss. Up until then, he’d been delighted to have the plum child’s role, and had practiced walking with a limp so much that I’d almost forgotten he wasn’t crippled. The crutch’s arm piece was padded with foam rubber, which was admittedly not authentic for the Victorian era but should have been fairly comfortable. Since I’m not exactly tall, Kyle wasn’t much shorter than I was, so I tucked it under my arm for an experimental step. And yelped.
“Now what?” Richard snapped.
Instead of answering him immediately, I poked at the armrest. There was something sharp in there! “Richard, somebody stuck a pin or something into the crutch.” I reached under my shirt to feel my arm pit, and brought my finger back with a drop of blood on it. “I’m bleeding.”
“What!” Richard hopped down from the stage and took the crutch from me. “Idelle, will you bring me a pair of scissors?”
All three triplets came over and watched as Richard cut away the chamois cloth covering the armrest. My husband’s not much of a cusser, but he cursed loudly when he saw what was under the material. Somebody had stuck a thin nail, like a carpet nail, right where it would prick whoever used the crutch. Without taking it out, he looked at it carefully. “I don’t see any rust, but …”
“I had a tetanus booster last year, remember?” Then I called out, “Junior, has Kyle had a tetanus shot?”
“Does this have something to do with this gash under his arm?” she called back, and brought him in our direction. Kyle’s eyes were red from crying, and he was holding his arm gingerly. Having felt that nail myself, I didn’t blame him.
“It looks as if our prankster has struck again,” Richard said, showing Junior the crutch.
“Is Kyle all right?” I asked.
“I think so,” Junior said. “I was just going to put a Band-Aid on him, but I better check on his shots first.” She pulled out her cell phone and stepped far enough away so that she could call her sister.
“Kyle,” Richard said solemnly, “please accept my apologies. I had no idea that crutch was booby-trapped.”
“That’s all right,” the boy said, red-faced at being the center of so much concern. “You didn’t know.”
“No, but I should have listened to you when you said it hurt you. What good is a director who doesn’t trust his performers—especially one of the stars?”
Kyle’s eyes glowed. “Me? A star?”
“Absolutely,” Richard said. “Who do people think of when they hear the title A Christmas Carol? Scrooge and Tiny Tim. Your role is key. I only hope you can forgive me and carry on.”
“Yes, sir, I sure can.” He wiggled his arm. “This ain’t nothing but a scratch.”
“Kyle had a shot the year before last,” Junior announced. “He’s in the clear, or will be as soon as I get him a Band-Aid.”
“I don’t need any Band-Aid,” Kyle said loftily, his tears gone.
“No, let your aunt take care of it,” Richard said. “An actor has to be in peak physical condition to give his best performance.”
Junior looked at me, one eyebrow raised, but went off to get the supplies. Kyle stood by with a determinedly stiff upper lip when Junior doctored him; then he followed Richard back to the stage as if nothing had happened.
“I don’t know what Richard said to him,” Junior said to me, “but it sure did the trick.”
“Just practicing to be a daddy,” I said proudly. “Is your sister upset?”
“Some,” Junior admitted. “I didn’t tell her I wasn’t here when it happened, but I think she guessed. So, if you don’t mind, we better do our investigating here for the rest of the day.”
“No problem.” I looked at the crutch I was still holding. “I’d like to find out how this happened.”
“Oh, we’re going to find that out, I guarantee you. Whoever rigged this thing knew damned well that Kyle was the one who was going to be using this crutch. Running off with toilet paper is one thing, hurting my nephew is something else.” From the look in Junior’s eye, I wasn’t about to get in her way.
Unfortunately, after talking to just about everybody, all we found out was that just about anybody could have put the nail in Kyle’s crutch. Since the triplets were in charge of costumes, we went to them first to find out where the crutch was kept overnight. Only Odelle told me it wasn’t part of Kyle’s costume. It was a prop. So we tracked down Aunt Maggie, but she told us it wasn’t the crutch that she’d dug up for Kyle to use, because hers had been modern and Vasti had said it didn’t look right. We found Vasti, and she said that Jake had made the authentic-looking one out of scraps from building sets.
Jake was sitting backstage all alone, not even pretending to use the hammer in his hand, and I hated to interrupt what I was sure was mourning, but Junior asked him about the crutch anyway. It turned out that Jake hadn’t kept up with the crutch after he made it—just handed it to Kyle during an earlier rehearsal. This led us back to Kyle, who admitted that he’d been in the habit of leaving it lying around when he left at night.
That meant that anybody could have sneaked away with it for long enough to stick in a nail.
We finally gave it up as a lost cause and retreated to chairs, where I could put my feet up and Junior could keep an eye on the kids. I had my usual ice water and tried not to envy Junior her can of Coke. “That was a waste of time,” I said.
“Most police work is, when you come right down to it.”
“Same with my nosing about.” I rubbed my tummy idly. “What is it with these pranks? What’s the point?”
“Why does anybody play practical jokes?” Junior said. “For the attention. To cause trouble. To embarrass people.”
“Usually, I’d agree with you.” An ex-boyfriend of mine had loved playing practical jokes, and in the long run, it had gotten him killed. “It just seems like these tricks are for a reason.”
“Don’t tell me you think Vasti’s right, and that Sally Hendon is trying to close down the play.”
“I’m sure Sally would love to see Vasti fall flat on her face, but since Mark cleared her of leaving those costumes, she must be innocent. Though somebody else might want to shut things down.”
“Why?”
“Let’s look at the idea of practical joker as murderer again.” I could tell Junior wanted to argue the point, but I waggled my finger at her. “Just listen for a minute. What if the earlier jokes were camouflage, just stirring things up until the killer got a chance to actually kill Seth? Maybe he’d planned to let it look as if Seth died as a result of a practical joke gone wrong if he got caught.”
“As a fallback position?” Junior said.
“Exactly. But he got lucky and nobody caught him.”
“So why didn’t the jokes stop after Seth died?”
“He could be muddying the waters some more.”
“Kind of risky, since every stunt he pulls increases his chances of being caught.”
“True.” I took a different approach. “Maybe he really is trying to shut down the play.”
“Why?”
“Because of you and me. As long as rehearsals continue, we’ve got lots of access t
o the witness and suspects. If the show were canceled, we’d have a harder time tracking people down. And I don’t have to tell you how unreliable memories are. The minute people get out of here, they’re going to start forgetting details, and it might be those details that will help us solve this thing.”
“Except that nobody remembers any useful details.”
“Not yet, but they might. Or maybe we’ve already heard something and it just didn’t register.” I looked at her, trying to read her expression. “What do you think?”
“It’s interesting.”
“Is that a punch line?” I said suspiciously.
“Pardon?”
“Don’t you remember that old joke? Two women who haven’t seen each other in a while get together to catch up. The first one says her husband’s a doctor and makes more money than God, and the second one says, ‘That’s interesting.’ Next the first says her husband bought her a new Cadillac and a fur coat, and the second says, ‘That’s interesting.’ Then the first says their house is huge and they’ve got umpteen servants, and the second says, ‘That’s interesting.’ Finally the first one asks what the second one’s been doing, and the second one says she went to charm school, and the first one wants to know what she learned. The second one says she learned to say ‘That’s interesting,’ instead of ‘Up yours, bitch!’ ”
Junior laughed so hard she blew Coke out of her nose. When she’d calmed down, and wiped her nose, she said, “No, Laurie Anne, that’s not what I was thinking. But I still don’t buy it. Seth’s death didn’t look premeditated to me. You see, head injuries are tough to predict. Just a light blow to the back of the head can cut off blood flow and kill a person, and other people survive massive wounds without any permanent damage. Now Seth was only hit once. Obviously it did kill him, but there was no way to know for sure that it would. If I’d gone to all the trouble to set things up so I could kill somebody, I’d have picked a method that would guarantee that he died.”
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 07 - Mad as the Dickens Page 11
