Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 07 - Mad as the Dickens

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “Can we borrow this?” Junior said, taking the piece of paper away from Oliver.

  “Of course, but—”

  “Thank you, you’ve been a big help. Now I want you to forget we’ve had this conversation.”

  “But—”

  She just looked at him.

  “It’s forgotten,” he said.

  “Good. I owe you one.”

  He brightened at that. Having Junior owe you a favor was no small thing in Byerly. “I’ll just go practice my lines.”

  “You do that,” Junior said. Once he was far enough away, she said, “Are you in the mood for a walk in the woods?”

  “I might be.” Then I saw the front door open. “Rats! Look who just came in.”

  “Tell me it’s not Mark.”

  “I would if I could.” He looked our way, and though he headed for the stage, I could see he was still looking. “He’ll know something’s up if we leave in the middle of dress rehearsal.”

  “He’ll probably try to follow us, too. We need a distraction.”

  I thought for a minute. “I’ve got an idea. You go wait by the door.”

  She did so, and I went and found Richard, who was settling up front in preparation for the start of dress rehearsal.

  “How’s that blocking during Fezziwigg’s ball working out?” I said for the benefit of Mark, who was listening.

  Richard lifted one eyebrow, then saw Mark. “Much better,” he said heartily. “I think that if we get people to move in a counterclockwise reel pattern rather than in a waltz configuration, that should solve the line-of-sight problems and give more weight to the motion as a metaphor for the change in Scrooge in the past and in the present.”

  I didn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about, and I wasn’t sure Richard did either. The important thing was that Mark walked away.

  I leaned in closer and whispered, “Thanks. You scared him off.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  I quickly explained what was going on and added, “Junior and I need a distraction to make sure Mark doesn’t see us leave. It won’t take time away from the rehearsal. Not more than a few minutes, anyway.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Could you throw a tantrum?”

  “Hey, I haven’t lost my temper in days.”

  “I know, but if you throw one now, nobody will notice us sneaking out.”

  “You’ll be careful? And you’ll stay with Junior?”

  “Yes on both counts.”

  “Now that you mention it, Bob Cratchit has been a bit distracted today. Maybe a tantrum would do him good. When do you need it?”

  “In ten minutes. No, make that twenty. I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

  “Good hunting!”

  “Thanks, love. Break a leg, or whatever it is I’m supposed to say.” I quickly smooched him, and took a bathroom break. By the time I got out, Richard had started rehearsing, and as unobtrusively as possible, I ambled toward Junior. She and I were pretending to talk when I heard Richard yell, “Stop, stop, Stop!”

  “Right on time,” I said.

  We watched for a minute or so as Richard blasted poor Tim for not looking cold enough. Then I nudged Junior. Mark had his back to us and was watching Richard stomp in front of the stage and wave his arms around.

  Junior said, “I hate to miss this. He’s got a real head of steam up this time.”

  “If you like, he can throw you a tantrum for your very own for Christmas. Let’s go.”

  We got out the door as quickly as possible, and I kept watch while Junior drove out of the parking lot. Then I announced, “We’re clear!”

  Chapter 34

  Just to be sure Mark hadn’t seen us leaving, Junior drove around aimlessly for ten minutes or so, but once we were sure he wasn’t following us, she drove to the piece of land Oliver had told us about. I was glad we were in Byerly instead of Boston. At three in the afternoon, it would have already been starting to get dark in Boston, but we still had plenty of daylight left.

  “According to this map, the dirt track should be coming up soon,” I said.

  “There it is.” Junior turned down the road.

  “I think the phrase well-cleared track means something different to realtors,” I grumbled as we bumped along. “If I were any further along, this would bounce the baby clean out of me.”

  “Please, no labor jokes,” Junior said. “My nerves can’t take it.”

  “It would help if you weren’t going so fast.”

  “Fair enough,” she said as she slowed to a crawl. “Keep an eye out. Seth may have left a marker of some kind.”

  We had gone maybe five minutes farther, well out of view of the main road, when I saw something flapping on a tree. “What’s that?” I said.

  A red plastic strip was tied around an outstretched limb.

  “That might be it,” Junior said. “If we’re reading the map right, the pond is on that side and this is the closest the road comes to it.” She stopped the car, then reached past me to unlock her glove compartment and pull out a shoulder holster and gun.

  “Do you think we’ll need that?” I said.

  “If I thought we’d need it, I wouldn’t have let you come along,” she said, “but there’s no reason not to be careful.”

  I let Junior lead the way, though she was kind enough to slow down so I could keep up. It was surprisingly quiet in the woods. Years’ worth of pine needles covered the ground, soaking up most of the noise we were making, and at that time of year, there weren’t many bird sounds.

  “It should be somewhere around here,” I said, consulting the map. “What exactly are we looking for, anyway? I’ve never seen a still.”

  “I’ve seen plenty, but no two look alike. Just look for a good-sized clearing. I expect that’s where we’ll find it.”

  A few yards farther on, we found the pond Oliver had told us about, and we traced the edge until we stepped into a clearing maybe twenty or thirty feet around. In the center was a metal contraption.

  “Is that it?” I asked Junior.

  “That’s it.”

  It wasn’t what I’d expected. I’m not sure what I had expected—maybe something out of Willy Wonka—but this wasn’t it. Junior explained the workings. The part that was the cooking chamber was a stainless steel drum that had been painted mud brown to make it harder to see. It was set up over a fire pit, a hole lined with rocks. Condensing coils on top of the drum were attached to a funnel on top of a metal bucket; that’s what the moonshine would drip into. Nearby was a stack of firewood.

  Junior touched the side of the still and peered into the fire pit. “It doesn’t look like it’s been used for a few days. I guess Jake’s been too busy with the play.”

  Off to one side of the clearing, placed where the trees would hide it from anybody flying overhead, was a small storage building, the kind Sears sells for people to put their lawnmowers in.

  “I don’t see a lock,” I said.

  “I guess they figured they didn’t need to bother,” Junior said. “If somebody found it, they were screwed anyway.” She drew her gun. “Why don’t you step back?”

  I obeyed, making sure a nice, thick tree was between me and the door to the storage building. Only then did Junior push the door open with one foot. She waited, but when there was no reaction, she peeked inside without exposing much of herself. Finally she straightened up and reholstered her gun. “All clear.”

  We searched the shed together, but it was a disappointment. While there were plenty of supplies like sugar, yeast, cornmeal, malt, and empty jugs, there was nothing that pointed to Seth Murdstone or his killer.

  I did get excited when I found a box of shotgun shells, but Junior said, “That’s probably just to sweeten the moonshine.”

  “To do what?”

  “Don’t ask me why, but unless shine has a little lead in it, it won’t sell. Supposedly it makes it sweeter. Some folks use lead apparatus, but I guess Seth added sho
t so a little lead would leech in.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Of course it’s dangerous; people get poisoned all the time. But moonshiners still add lead to increase the market value.”

  When we gave up on the shed, we poked at the woodpile to see if anything was hidden there.

  “Nothing,” Junior said in disgust. “Not a damned thing.”

  “They must have left fingerprints,” I said. “Or something!”

  “Maybe they smeared some DNA on the equipment,” Junior said sarcastically.

  “Junior, we are not giving up. There has to be something here!”

  “I didn’t say we were giving up,” she said. “I’m just … Never mind. Let’s keep looking. You circle around that way, and I’ll circle around this way.”

  We moved away from each other, looking at the ground, in the trees, anywhere there might have been some trace of Seth or Jake. I went faster because I couldn’t come up with as many places to look as Junior, and I ended up back at the still first. So I had time to notice that there was a blackened circle on one side of the fire pit, as if something had burned there.

  “Looks like they had an accident,” I said.

  Junior came over. “Somebody must have spilled some moonshine into the fire. Seth must have made some potent stuff for it to go up like that. Look at the scorch pattern.”

  “They’re lucky nobody got hurt out here in the middle of nowhere.” Then my eyes widened as a couple of things came together. “Junior, maybe somebody did get hurt out here. Maybe this was where Barnaby had his accident.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You remember when I was out at the Murdstone house? I saw where Barnaby supposedly burned himself. The carpet was burned, but there wasn’t nearly as much damage as I’d have expected, considering how badly hurt he was.”

  “Are you sure? The report said the carpet was ruined and soot all over the walls and ceiling.”

  “Who wrote the report?”

  Junior’s face turned grim. “Mark. Lord knows how many other things he’s lied about.”

  Mark’s perfidy was the last thing on my mind. “Jesus, Junior! That’s what Barnaby meant in his letter to Santa when he said he was trying to earn enough money to buy Jake a Christmas present. Seth must have been paying him to work out here.” I was suddenly furious. “A nine-year-old boy messing with a still! That’s why Seth didn’t call an ambulance for him.”

  I thought about the bumpy road Junior and I had driven down to get there, then imagined the pain driving over it must have caused that poor burned boy. If Seth had been standing in front of me right then, I think I would have hit him myself. “Could this be why Seth was killed?”

  “I don’t see how,” Junior said. “That would mean Jake did it, but Jake knew that Seth was in charge when Barnaby was hurt, and I never saw any sign that he blamed him. Why would he suddenly decide to take it out on him?”

  “We’re still missing something, Junior. I just don’t know what.”

  “We’ll get there,” she said, patting my back. “Now that I know where this place is, I can come back with a fingerprint kit and everything else I need to prove it’s Seth’s.”

  I realized she was smiling. Heck, she was beaming. “You’re looking mighty pleased with yourself.”

  “I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself. Finding this place has taken a long time.”

  I was feeling pretty smug, too. Maybe we didn’t know who’d killed Seth or why, but finding his still felt like a step forward.

  Junior said, “I can’t wait to tell Daddy. Maybe I’ll bring him out here for a Christmas present.”

  “Beats the heck out of a tie.”

  “Cheaper, too,” Junior said. “We better get going. It’s getting late, and I don’t think Richard would appreciate it if we get lost.”

  I followed her back to the Jeep, but just as we reached the dirt track where it was parked, the baby started kicking in an extremely inconvenient place. “Junior? I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “We’ll stop at the first place we see,” she said, unlocking the car.

  “I can’t wait that long,” I said.

  It must have been an effort for her to resist snickering, but she managed. “I’ll wait while you head for the bushes. Be sure to go on the other side of the track from the still. Jake will probably be able to tell we were here, but let’s not make it worse than it is.”

  “Just let me get my pocketbook from the car.”

  “Why?”

  “Kleenex.”

  “Of course.”

  Despite my days as a Girl Scout, I absolutely hated going to the bathroom outside. I liked my privacy, especially since I was as big and as graceful as a beached whale. So I went a ways into the woods before I found just the right spot: hidden, with a nearby stump I could hold on to when I squatted.

  Even so, I wasn’t so far away that I couldn’t hear Junior’s voice. I had just pulled my pants up and was making a hole in the ground with my sneaker to hide the used Kleenex when she spoke. I froze instantly.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she said.

  There was an answer I couldn’t quite make out, but the voice sounded familiar.

  “Are you crazy?” Junior said.

  There was another mumble, and then quite clearly I heard Mark Pope say, “I said, drop it! Don’t think I won’t shoot you, Junior.”

  I stayed where I was, trying desperately to figure out what I should do. I didn’t want to go toward where Mark had the drop on Junior, because with him armed there was nothing I could do. I didn’t want to run the other direction either, because I was sure Mark would see me if I moved, and he’d shoot. The sheer frustration of knowing he had Junior made me sick to my stomach.

  “Where’s your friend?” Mark asked.

  “She’s not here.”

  “You’re lying. Stay there while I take a look.”

  I heard the car door open. I thanked the powers that be for reminding me to take my pocketbook, because if I hadn’t grabbed it, it would have been on the front seat, letting Mark know I was nearby.

  “You think I’d bring a pregnant woman out to the woods?” Junior said. “I dropped her off before I came, but she knows where I am, and if I’m not back there in half an hour, she’s going to call for help.”

  “Who’s she going to call?” Mark said, and I could almost hear the sneer. “I’m the law, remember?”

  “She’ll call her family,” Junior said calmly. “And mine. That’s an awful lot of men to come looking for you, Mark. Are you ready for that?”

  “Shut up!” he snapped. There was a pause, and then he said, “Put these on.” I heard metallic clicks and guessed he’d made Junior put on handcuffs. “Now get in.” There were rattlings and the slam of a car door. A minute later the car drove off, leaving me crouched in the woods alone.

  Chapter 35

  Only when Mark and Junior had been gone at least five minutes did I stand up, nervous as a cat that a shot would ring out. There was nothing, so Mark must have really driven off. But where had he taken Junior, and what was he planning to do with her? As I started back toward the dirt track, I realized the more important question was, what was I going to do about it?

  Junior’s car was gone, and I decided that Mark must have parked his own somewhere else and walked in. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any idea of where to look for it, and even if I’d found it instead of getting hopelessly lost in the woods, I wouldn’t have been able to drive it without a key.

  “Baby,” I said to my tummy, “when Mama gets back home, the first thing she’s going to do is learn how to hot-wire a car.”

  It was getting dark and colder, and for once I was glad that being pregnant kept me so warm. “All I’ve got to do is follow the track back to the main road,” I told myself. “Then I can find a phone and call for help.” I started walking, my feet already sore and swollen. “On second thought, the first thing I’ll do is get a cell ph
one. Then I’ll be able to call somebody to hot-wire a car for me.”

  I didn’t remember coming more than five or ten minutes away from the main road, but that had been in a car. On foot, in the dark, it seemed to take forever, and the bushes and tree limbs looked like something out of Snow White as they pulled at my arms and hair.

  My mind was moving much faster than the rest of me. Obviously, Junior had been right about Mark. He must have killed Seth and tried to kill Jake. Why else would he risk kidnapping her and … I didn’t want to think about what else he might risk. There was nothing I could do to stop it if I didn’t reach civilization soon. I walked as fast as I could without falling.

  An eternity later, I saw headlights, and at first I thought I’d reached the main road. Then I realized the headlights were coming toward me, along the dirt track. Had Mark realized I was out there after all? I bolted into the woods, diving behind a bush as full and round as I was.

  The headlights came closer, and I saw it was a pickup truck, not Junior’s Jeep or Mark’s squad car. The driver was going slowly, even more so than the rough going called for. As the truck got closer, I saw that the driver’s window was open, and I heard a voice call out, “Laurie Anne! Are you out there? It’s me. Jake Murdstone.”

  More relieved than I could have said, I stood up and started waving. “Jake! Over here.” I stumbled toward the truck.

  “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

  “I’m fine,” I said, though I must have looked pretty bad.

  He reached over to open the passenger door for me. “Climb in and we’ll get you out of here.”

  I gratefully clambered aboard and tried to catch my breath while he turned the truck around.

  “Is Junior all right?” I asked.

  “Junior?”

  “She sent you after me, didn’t she?”

  He shook his head. “Nope, it wasn’t Junior.”

  I reached for the door handle, wondering what my chances of survival—and, more important, my baby’s chances—would be if I jumped from a moving truck. “Did Mark send you?”

  But he shook his head again. “I got a call from a friend of mine. She said you were out in the woods all by your lonesome and could use a ride.” He eyed me sideways. “I didn’t know you knew Clara Todger.”