“I’m not sure about the particular variety your friend grows, but most berry bushes are going to need a lot of direct sunlight during the day. Just planting them in close rows might help with the wind. Once they’re well-rooted, wind shouldn’t be much of a problem.”
“That’s good to know. Thanks, Maggie.”
Tor turned as if to leave, then had a thought. “Have any of you seen my bomber jacket? I can’t seem to find it.”
Maggie, TomTom and Sunflower shook their heads.
“I’m missing a jacket, too,” Sunflower said. “It’s black leather, with fringe—you know the one.”
“That’s weird, isn’t it? Perhaps your jackets are off having a party together,” TomTom sighed whimsically.
“Oh well,” Tor said, getting ready to leave again. “I’ll check the barn later. I’m off to research berry farming.”
“Too bad you don’t have some land a little closer to town,” Maggie said.
Tor frowned at her. “Why’s that?”
“Well, you could plant several acres worth of bushes and have one of those pick-your-own berry farms.”
“Hey, that would be cool!” TomTom said.
Tor shook his head. “There’s quite a bit of liability when you invite people onto your land. Best to keep it simple for now, see what kind of yield we can get from 15 or 20 bushes.”
“Makes sense,” Maggie said.
“Anyway,” TomTom added. “No sense getting too excited, I guess. It’s not like we have land close to town.”
Tor looked at his watch. “Crap! I’ve got to get going if I want to get there by noon. Bye, ladies!”
He was out the door.
After a small breakfast, Maggie got into her Beetle and headed for River City. The town of three thousand was located near the junction of two small state highways, along the Raccoon River. She assumed the public library would be easy to find, since TomTom had told her it was downtown. Generally, in a farm town this size, downtown was little more than a two-block strip on either side of Main Street.
The library was a converted Victorian house, painted in the tasteful, complementary shades of pine, cream and raspberry. The quaint exterior and old-fashioned atmosphere of the building were enough to start Maggie wondering if there would be any twenty-first century technology available. She had visions of herself hunched uncomfortably in front of a micro-fiche viewer of yellowed newspaper articles.
Once inside, Maggie was pleasantly surprised. When she asked about connectivity, the male librarian said, “Why yes, of course we have internet.” He also happily pointed out the library computer specially set aside to peruse archives of the local newspaper. Keyword searches were possible, so her work would be that much quicker.
Once settled in a plush floral armchair, she logged into the network and checked her email. She deleted more than half of it without bothering to read how she could get a free prescription for sex-enhancing drugs or make a bundle in the stock market. There was a message from Della, which brought about a moment of irritation from Maggie. Apparently they had gotten a bit behind at work since Maggie had taken leave and Della was “just wondering how things were going” for Maggie. There was also a note from her sister Keri, telling how big Davy was getting and how he missed his Auntie Maggie. Maggie doubted the baby knew who she was and felt frustrated with Keri for being so indirect. Why doesn’t she just ask when I’m coming back?
Maggie closed her email and opened her favorite web browser. She didn’t really need to search for chamomile as an allergen anymore. Fennel had provided that information in her journals. She decided to do a quick look for the name “Susan Wilcox,” on the off chance of getting a hit. Maggie also added “Sonoma” and “California” to the search field. She felt a tinge of bad conscience as she pushed the enter key.
Immediately, several hits popped up. One was a woman selling real estate in Wisconsin. The next was a canine breeder website regarding St. Bernard bloodlines and certification. The third caught Maggie’s eye because it involved the name Jeremy. She clicked on the third link and began scanning what turned out to be a small article from a recent issue of The Pasadena Star-News.
The parents of Mr. Jeremy Richards, who was found dead July 1979, presented an honorary scholarship to 18 year-old Naomi Vasquez in their son’s name. Mr. and Mrs. Bob Richards, both 72, recently won the state lotto. Mrs. Richards told reporters that it was once their son’s dream to become a doctor. Jeremy died tragically at the age of 22.
Ms. Vasquez will use the money toward her medical degree. “I am so grateful,” the young woman said. “I wish to pursue the field of psychiatry, so that I may help find better options for those suffering from schizophrenia and manic depression.”
The Richards’ decided upon Ms. Vasquez as the recipient of the money because of the essay she submitted. Ms. Vasquez’ chosen field of study is near and dear to their hearts. Mr. Richards stated that their son Jeremy suffered from depression, which eventually led him to commit suicide. At the time of Jeremy Richards’ death, several of his friends suspected his girlfriend, Susan Wilcox, of being responsible. Evidence, including a later found suicide note, confirmed Jeremy’s state of mind at the time of his death.
“Whoa!” Maggie said aloud, causing several other library patrons to look her way. An elderly woman with a cloud of bluish-white hair put an index finger to her pursed lips and shushed Maggie.
She’s innocent! She doesn’t even know she’s free! Relief flooded Maggie’s brain like a fresh breeze fills a room. Finally, here was good news. But, as Maggie’s thoughts sorted themselves out, she realized that Sunflower didn’t come into town. She probably didn’t know about her freedom, and may still have tried to protect being found out, at all costs.
Maggie slumped in the puffy, effeminate chair. She closed her laptop part way and carried it over to the circulation desk.
“Excuse me? Can I print something out?” she asked the librarian.
“Yes. There’s a ten cent charge per page. The printer is back here, so I’ll have to retrieve the printout for you.”
Maggie dug some change out of her pocket and printed the article.
When she had collected her pages, Maggie went over to the small bank of library terminals. Following the librarian’s instructions, she found the searchable archives of the River City Herald. Unfortunately, she could only search one issue at a time. She sighed. Not really knowing where to begin, she started with the first issue of April 1997, to get a feel for general public opinion in the community regarding Val-U-Shop. There wasn’t anything about a city council meeting in the particular issue with which she had started. She clicked backward through the issue to look for letters to the editor section, stopping when she saw a familiar face on page one.
A huge snapshot of Deputy Lyle Rose being placed on a stretcher dominated the front page. The headlines read “Local Hero Gunned Down, Saves Sheriff’s Life.” A smaller, inset picture showed a serious-looking snapshot of Lyle, much like the photo on the card he had given Maggie. On an impulse, she reached into her purse to see if his card was still there. She found the face card wedged in a side pocket with her mint lip balm and emergency tampon.
Maggie read the article about Lyle.
Apparently, there had been a fracas at a local bar. Brand new Deputy Rose had taken a bullet in the leg protecting the Sheriff from an outraged local man. The man’s wife had been sleeping with the bartender. According to the article, he had come in, gotten liquored up and pulled a gun on the bartender. The Sheriff tried to intervene, then the gun was turned on the Sheriff. Lyle distracted the angry drunk long enough to get himself in the path of the bullet. Once down, and shot in the leg, Lyle still had the capacity to literally ‘pull the rug’ out from under the assailant, who fell, hit his head on a table and passed out. The Sheriff rushed over and grabbed the weapon. Lyle Rose was taken to Perry Hospital. The article reported that he was expected to make a full recovery.
So that’s what caused his limp.
Further searches of local news issues revealed many editorials about Val-U-Shop, opposed outnumbering favorable letters four to one. Few people wanted the store near their town. Several of the letters had come from Louise Carpenter. Fennel had found a lot of support for her cause, but there were some citizens who said that they went into Des Moines to shop anyway. Those who wanted the mega store were in favor of the lower prices and wide variety of merchandise it had to offer. One man even quoted a recent AP article which stated Val-U-Shop was now considered a sign of civilization in a rural community, no longer thought of as a small business doomsday device.
Maggie found an article about a council meeting in June where Val-U-Shop was on the agenda. The reporter on the scene was quick to mention how well attended the meeting was, and that there were protesters holding signs outside city hall which said things like “Keep Ur low values to Urself” and “Support local business. We support you.” After an hour of searching, Maggie concluded that Val-U-Shop looked like it was going to get rejected in their bid to connect to local utilities, but she had only read up to July.
Maggie could find nothing with Tor’s real name, David Falstaff, in connection to land owned or being placed on the market. Then she remembered that Tor had attended a city council meeting last night.
Maggie walked back to the circulation desk and asked, “Can I see a copy of today’s paper, please?”
“Certainly, ma’am.” The librarian pointed to a coffee table in a cozy seating area near an oversized globe.
Maggie thanked the librarian and rummaged through the haphazard pile of already-perused periodicals till she found what she wanted.
Sure enough, there was an article about the special council meeting which Tor had attended the night before. He was mentioned several times by name. Although his personal stance was not reported, the article did say that the city council was considering more thoroughly the possibility of giving their approval to Val-U-Shop. Nothing undisputable, thought Maggie. However, one could surmise that Tor’s presence had changed the tide of events in Val-U-Shop’s favor.
Maggie carried the paper to the counter and asked to make a copy of the article. She made a note to herself where she had stopped reading the back issues of the paper on the computer, to keep track of where to start next time.
Bundling back into her coat and mittens, Maggie knew she had to go to the pharmacy sooner or later. It was not something she wanted to think about too much. Maybe I can put it off by grabbing some lunch first, she thought. Copies in hand, she reluctantly left the library. On the way to her car, a familiar voice called her name.
“Care for some lunch?”
Lyle Rose looked even taller standing next to her Bug.
Maggie weighed her options before answering and decided to take a chance.
“Sure,” she said. “I have something to tell you.”
Chapter 15
They walked to a diner called Penny’s Pantry, a few blocks down from the library. Snowflakes began spotting the air, dancing like bits of icy magic, alighting on their eyelashes and cheeks.
“Old Man Winter’s on his way,” a man called to Lyle.
“We’re in for it now,” Lyle hailed back, with a wave.
Lyle opened the door, setting the bells a-jingle. He stood aside and waited for Maggie to go through first. The diner was crowded, but an elderly couple was just leaving, and they offered their booth to the Deputy and his lunch guest.
“Colder than a witches’ teat ain’t it?” the old gentleman said to Lyle as they stood getting their coats on and waiting for the table to be cleared. The man’s wife squawked and poked her husband in the chest.
“Watch your language! You’ll get arrested.”
“Never mind, you old nag!” he shot back at her. To Maggie’s surprise, the man and his wife then laughed and held hands as they walked to the cash register. He turned around and winked at Maggie, causing his wife to give him a slug in the shoulder.
Maggie slid into the Naugahyde seat of the booth. The springs were shot and she sank into the pit where hundreds had sat before.
“Here, let me take that side!” Lyle insisted.
“I’m okay.”
“No, really. Your chin is practically resting on the table.”
“Alright. I do feel a little ridiculous.”
They switched sides.
“This gives me a better view of the perimeter, anyway,” Lyle said, opening the menu and peering over it from time to time. “I’m still on duty, you know.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” Maggie asked, glancing around.
“No, I was kidding. Lighten up, pretty lady.”
“I was thinking about the trouble you ran into at another local place.”
Lyle looked at her quizzically.
“I was just at the library and I came across an article about you getting shot.”
“Oh!” he smiled. “That old wound! I hardly notice it anymore.”
“A bullet to the leg could’ve been fatal, had it hit the femoral artery.”
“No big deal.”
“It seems like a big deal to me. I’m sure you’re the local hero around here.”
Lyle touched the brim of an imaginary cowboy hat. “Just doin’ my job, ma’am. All in a day’s work.”
Maggie glanced around at the restaurant. It had a crowded counter, a working soda fountain, and slices of pies in a glass case. Clearly, this was one small business that stood to lose if Val-U-Shop moved in nearby. The big store would probably offer deli concessions at half the price of a meal at Penny’s Pantry.
In her visual sweep of the room, Maggie couldn’t help but notice how many of the customers were staring at Lyle and herself.
Lyle brought her attention back to the conversation. “It was my first week on the job,” he said.
“What?”
“When I got shot. My second day, actually.”
“Wow.”
His face turned serious. “Up to that point, I was pretty sure the Sheriff was strong-armed into hiring me.”
“Why?”
Lyle raised his eyebrows at her. “Guess.”
She shrugged away his insinuation. “I’m sure you are very well qualified.”
“I’m absolutely qualified for this job, regardless of any diversity practices that may have led to my being hired.”
“Do you really think that played a part?”
“I have my suspicions. What I do know is that I felt like I had to prove myself.”
“What a way to do it, jumping into the line of fire to protect your boss.”
“When I see a chance to do the right thing, I do it.” He paused. “Like asking you to lunch today.”
Maggie blushed to the roots of her hair. “This isn’t a date, Deputy Rose.”
Before Lyle could answer, the waitress walked over and took their drink order. Maggie ordered hot tea with lemon.
“Would you like to hear the specials?” the waitress asked, shifting her sumptuous hips and blowing a strand of curly red hair out of her face as she spoke. A pencil poised mid-air above her order tablet, held by fingers ending in painted, inch-long nails.
“Do you have anything vegetarian?” Lyle asked.
The waitress looked Lyle up and down and laughed. “You gonna tell me you’ve gone veggie on me, Deputy? No more double cheeseburgers?” She slapped an expansive thigh with her note pad at the thought.
“No, I was thinking of the lady.” Lyle indicated Maggie, across the table.
“Is that so?” The waitress now gave Maggie a once-over.
“Actually, I’m not a vegetarian,” Maggie said. “I’m more of a flexitarian.”
The waitress gave Maggie a look. “That’s a new one on me.”
“I’ll just have a grilled cheese on rye with tomato soup, if you have it.”
“Sure we do. Anything else?”
“Yes—a side order of fries and a slice of pecan pie later, with real whipped cream, vanilla ice cream if you don�
��t have whipped. First, though, I’d like a salad with French dressing and extra cucumbers.”
The waitress chuckled. “Where you gonna put all that food? You’re so tiny!”
Lyle ordered the house special—chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and a basket of buttered rolls. The waitress collected their menus and set off to the kitchen.
Lyle sat back and stretched his legs. His foot bumped Maggie’s and she let it stay where it was, felt it burning a hole in her shoe.
“The thing is, Lyle…” she began awkwardly.
“You’ve just come out of a bad relationship?”
“Why do men always assume that?”
“Alright then. You don’t date black men.” He crossed his well-sculpted arms. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“No. It’s not that, either. Will you let me finish?”
He nodded curtly.
“My fiancé, Ben, was killed in a car crash not long ago.” Maggie struggled to remember how long it had been and realized with a shock that it had only been a matter of weeks. “I was told to take some time off. I’m staying at Original Farm because I didn’t want to stay alone in my apartment. I also needed the distraction. I tried staying with Mom and Dad. My parents mean well, but they never understood Ben and I living together outside of marriage. Ben was going to ask me—he had a ring with him when he—” Maggie impatiently wiped away the tears that came rolling down. She pulled out the engagement ring from under her shirt, where it chimed against the key on its green string.
Lyle looked as though he’d taken a sucker punch to the gut. He unfolded his arms and reached across the table with a paper napkin to gently soak up the salt water leaking from Maggie’s eyes. The inquisitive stares from around the diner became more vigorous and the whispering that ensued sounded like a riled up nest of yellow jackets.
“I should learn to keep my mouth shut,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m flattered, really I am. Under different conditions I’d be interested. Trust me.”
“I’ll have to settle for someday then, won’t I? I can wait till you’re ready.”
Shallow Roots: An Iowa Girl Mystery (Iowa Girl Mysteries Book 1) Page 12
