Dead Broke

by Vannetta Chapman

Agatha glanced at Henry, who was watching her. “It’s still amazing, to see what you can do.”

  “Gotte is amazing,” Henry countered, but he smiled to indicate that he understood what she was saying, what she was struggling with, and perhaps he did. He’d been living with his gift for a very long time.

  Agatha handed the paper to Tony.

  He studied it briefly, then nodded as if he’d expected to see exactly what he was looking at. Folding the sheet once, he stuck it in his pocket. “Good job, Henry. I’ll call this in when I get back home. It’s only a partial, but we should be able to get something.”

  Agatha shared that Nathan’s funeral would be on Friday.

  There didn’t seem to be much else to say about the case, so they talked about the weather and upcoming plans for the holidays. Emma yawned and Henry stood, pulling her to her feet. “My fraa is falling asleep in your swing. I best get her to bed. We plan to go hiking tomorrow, if the weather allows.”

  “Partly sunny with highs in the 70s.” Gina popped up out of her rocker and began plumping the cushions and generally straightening things that were already straight.

  Agatha really couldn’t think how she would survive without the woman. If business continued to grow as it had been, she’d need to give her a raise. Keep your employees well paid and you won’t often be in need of help. She couldn’t remember who had said that, but the words rang true.

  There was something that people needed more than income, though, and that was appreciation. “Danki, Gina.” She reached for the woman’s arm, and when Gina turned toward her with a look of surprise, Agatha laughed.

  “What? I can’t thank you for your work?”

  “You thank me every week when you hand me a paycheck.” She cocked her head to the side, as if she’d better understand Agatha from that viewpoint. “You know I work here because I like it, right?”

  “I thought you stuck around because of Agatha’s helpful neighbors.”

  Agatha hadn’t realized that Tony had moved closer. She startled at the sound of his voice, then realized she liked him standing so close. She liked the feel of them, together, against whatever lurked out in the darkness. And there was something or someone out there. She could feel it. Her instincts, which she’d learned to trust, told her it was time to be especially careful.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day dawned sunny and pleasant, just as Gina had predicted. Agatha packed Henry and Emma a picnic lunch, which he was pretty sure wasn’t standard fare to be included in the price of a room at a B&B, but she insisted.

  “You’re helping us crack this case. The least I can do is feed you.”

  But Henry was determined not to waste the morning worrying over Nathan King’s murder. He and Emma walked up and down the riverbank. They paused occasionally to raise his binoculars to the birds and added a painted bunting and a scissor-tailed flycatcher to their life list. They stopped and ate their lunch, enjoying the weather and the view. The water tripped merrily by, its sound a pleasant diversion. Bass slapped the water in search of insects.

  Henry breathed in the peace of the Hill Country.

  “I’m glad we came.” Emma smiled at him as she ran her fingers up and down her kapp strings.

  “Are you now?”

  “I am.” When he continued to wait, she added, “In spite of...you know.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “Have you ever wondered if that’s why Gotte gave you this gift, so you can solve murders?”

  “Actually, I have thought about that.” He motioned toward a bench and they sat.

  “And?”

  “I have a different theory.”

  “Hmm. Let’s hear it.”

  “Of course I believe it was part of Gotte’s plan for my life.”

  “All things work together for the good...”

  “Indeed they do.” He laced his fingers with hers, looked down at them and thought of how much that sight—two hands clasped together—reminded him of their relationship. They’d truly become one, and that was something he was continually grateful for. He hadn’t expected such a blessing at this stage of his life. “I think perhaps I haven’t been a gut steward of this gift.”

  Emma tucked her chin, giving him the look.

  “Hold on. Hear me out.”

  “Fine, but I won’t tolerate you judging my husband.”

  He squeezed her hand, then sat back, one arm over the back of the bench, the other fiddling with the binoculars. They’d walked a fair distance down the riverbank, and since the river curved they were now staring back toward Agatha’s property.

  “When we all moved to Monte Vista, I still hadn’t embraced my talent. I was running from it.”

  “And then Vernon Frey was killed.”

  “Ya, and you suggested that I try to draw what I’d seen at his place. You encouraged me to use my gift.”

  “It is a gift, Henry. I wish you could see that.”

  “I’m beginning to, which is the reason that I’m thinking I should stop running from it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Even after the murders in Monte Vista, I haven’t used this gift to share Gotte’s love. I haven’t used it for anything. The journal you bought me, it’s helped me to process things in some way that I don’t understand.”

  “You draw nearly every day now.”

  “I do, but still I only share it with others when there is an emergency.” He nodded toward the opposite bank, toward where they’d found Nathan King’s body. “Perhaps I should start using my drawing for better things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as this. Look in front of you. Is that not a beautiful scene, a scene filled with the goodness of Gotte?”

  Another fish broke the water and splashed back down. A turtle on the far side crawled farther out on the log. Sunlight reflected off the water.

  “There are many who would find peace in this setting, but not all can come.”

  “Not everyone has the physical ability to travel,” Emma agreed.

  “Or the financial means.” Henry stood, offered Emma his hand, and they began to retrace their steps, back toward the B&B. “Perhaps it’s time for me to start drawing some of Gotte’s blessings, some of His beauty.”

  Emma nodded vigorously. “You could make note cards or calendars or even a book of drawings. Those things could be a real blessing to...” She stopped abruptly.

  “What is it?”

  “Up there, where we found Nathan.” She reached for the binoculars and focused them across the river. “Look.”

  Henry peered through the binoculars and pulled them away from his eyes in surprise. “What are they doing up there?”

  “I have no idea.”

  It’s no longer a crime scene, but...” He couldn’t see a kayak tied up at the bank below, so Valerie and Eric must have come at the area from the top. Why had they walked down to the water? Fishing? The Thompsons didn’t strike him as the fishing type, and they certainly weren’t carrying fishing poles. As he watched, they reversed directions and made their way to the top of the hill.

  “Ya, but still...why would they be there? It’s almost as if...as if they’re searching for something.”

  Henry peered through the binoculars again, adjusting the focus and finally handing them to Emma. Without realizing it, they’d both stepped behind a cypress tree. It was doubtful that Valerie and Eric Thompson could see them, but Emma posed a good question. What were they doing at the crime scene? Had they been looking for something?

  Henry and Emma continued to follow the path, their attention now completely focused on the couple across the river. They were so absorbed in watching for the Thompsons, they nearly walked into Patsy and Linus Wright. Patsy was snapping photos of the far riverbank, and Linus was standing close to her and pointing first right, then left.

  When they saw Henry and Emma, Patsy nodded and held up her camera. “Beautiful area to photograph.”

  “Ya. For sure and certain it is.” Henry
waggled his binoculars. “We were adding to our life list. Are you two bird watchers?”

  “Sure we are.” Linus’s voice was serious, only the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Quail, dove, duck”

  Patsy continued snapping pictures, though she seemed to be pointing the lens at random spots. “In other words, anything he can stuff a jalapeno into, wrap bacon around, and grill.”

  “Exactly.” Linus cupped a hand at Patsy’s elbow, turning her away from them. “Guess we’ll see you at dinner.”

  Henry and Emma continued up the path toward the house.

  “They seem like a nice couple.”

  “Indeed.”

  “But they weren’t looking at birds. Were they?”

  “Didn’t seem to be.”

  “Were they watching the Thompsons?”

  Henry shrugged. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t need any additional complications on this trip.

  They let themselves in through the kitchen door, and found Agatha and Tony sitting at the table.

  Agatha looked worried, and Tony hadn’t touched the cup of coffee sitting in front of him.

  “More problems?” Henry asked.

  Agatha motioned to the chairs, and both Henry and Emma sat.

  “Tony was just telling me that he ran that partial plate you drew.”

  “The one on the old truck?”

  “The same.” Agatha nodded to Tony who picked up the story.

  “The vehicle is registered to a man named Joey Smith.”

  “So...not Joey Troyer?” Emma looked as confused as Henry felt.

  Tony pushed a folded sheet of paper toward them. Henry opened it and studied the driver’s license picture. Joey Troyer. A resident of Dallas, Texas. Age twenty-five. Height five foot, ten inches. Eye color blue.

  “So the person driving the old Ford truck isn’t your missing guest?”

  “That’s the problem. This person...” Agatha tapped the sheet of paper. “This is the person who checked into my B&B as Joey Troyer.”

  “Can you think of why he’d used a different name?”

  “I can’t. There’s more though. Why was he pretending to be Amish? Why did he tell me he was from Beeville? And where is he now?” Agatha shook her head, as if she could dispel the worries there. She plastered on a smile, and asked, “How was your morning?”

  “Wunderbaar.”

  “The picnic lunch was lovely, Agatha. Danki.” Emma reached across and patted her hand. “We’re very much enjoying our stay.”

  “Except for the murder.”

  “Speaking of that...”

  Both Tony and Agatha jerked upright at Henry’s words.

  “It could be nothing, but we saw the Thompsons across the river, climbing up the bank near the murder site.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.” Agatha pressed her fingertips to her temples. “What were they doing there?”

  Henry looked to his wife, who shrugged and said, “Just stomping around, seemed to be focused on the ground.”

  “You could see them that well?” Tony asked.

  Henry smiled sheepishly, then held up his binoculars. “We were looking at birds, but we...ah, stumbled on them. And then as we turned toward home we saw Patsy and Linus. They were on this side of the river, but sort of hidden behind a bush and seemed to be taking pictures of the Thompsons.”

  “The plot thickens.” Agatha pushed up the sleeves of her dress, as if she was ready to get to work. “Tony, you’re the detective. I’m depending on you to figure all of this out.”

  “I’m retired,” Tony protested.

  “Yes, and you’re my fishing guide. So if you want to guide fishermen on our portion of the river, you need to figure out what’s happening around here.”

  Tony tapped his fingers against the table. “I suppose we could go to town. Try to follow up on a few loose ends.”

  “I was going to garden, but this sounds better. Let me fetch my purse.”

  Daniel and Mary Hochstetler walked into the kitchen at that point, so all conversation about the investigation stopped. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed to Henry that the two were preoccupied and worried. Perhaps they simply needed a distraction.

  “Emma and I were about to try our hand at shuffleboard. Care to join us?”

  Mary shrugged, but Daniel nodded. “The sunshine will do us both gut.”

  They all trudged outside. Henry was at the back of the group. When the others had passed out onto the porch, he turned back to Tony and Agatha. “You two be careful. Something tells me the danger hasn’t quite passed yet.”

  Instead of arguing with him, Tony and Agatha exchanged a look, then nodded in agreement.

  THEY TOOK TONY’S TRUCK.

  “You never ride in my buggy.”

  “Oh, I don’t have anything against outdated modes of transportation.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Not at all. But I figured you might be in a hurry to get back to your guests.”

  “That’s the problem with all this” She waved her hand as if to take in the surrounding countryside. “I’m supposed to be living a plain and simple life which, let me tell you, isn’t so easy to do when a dead body shows up on or near your property.”

  “You sound out of sorts.”

  “I am.”

  “Hopefully we can find some answers today.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to be at the station in twenty minutes. Want to pick up a coffee afterwards?”

  She shook her head decisively. “The last thing I need is more caffeine.”

  “Pie?”

  “Now you’re just teasing me. You know I rarely turn down pie...” She appreciated what he was doing, trying to cheer her up. Why didn’t these things bother him? Was it because he’d grown used to murder and investigations and unanswered questions? It was those very unanswered questions that set her teeth on edge. To Agatha they felt like a solid bank of storm clouds, one piling on top of the other until they threatened to block out the sun.

  “Pie it is then, and decaf coffee.” He gave her that crooked smile she found so endearing. “But first the police station.”

  He parked a block away and they walked back to the station.

  “There were parking spaces in front of the building,” she pointed out.

  “Yeah, but there’s no use poking the bear.”

  “Who’s the bear in this analogy?”

  “Lieutenant Bannister.”

  “And you think he’s watching the parking spaces?”

  “His office has windows that look out toward the street, out over the parking. I’m not self-absorbed enough to think he’s watching for me, but he might happen to glance out and see me, which wouldn’t be good. I’m fairly certain that I’m not his favorite person right now.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I honestly have no idea.”

  They hurried down a concrete walk toward the back of the building, but they didn’t go inside. Instead Tony led her around to a small alcove where a woman was sitting on a bench.

  “Still take your smoke break at two o’clock sharp, I see.”

  The woman’s face broke into a smile. She jumped up, gave Tony a quick hug and nodded at Agatha. “It’s a bad habit but a necessary one if you work for Lieutenant Bannister.”

  “You were doing this when you worked for me.”

  “Proving that you two have more in common than one would think.”

  Tony tried to look offended, but he didn’t quite pull it off. “Agatha, this is Julia Perez. She basically runs the police department, though we can’t let her know that or she’ll demand a raise.”

  “Fat chance, that.”

  “Julia, this is my neighbor, Agatha Lapp.”

  “You own the B&B.” It wasn’t exactly an accusation, but close enough.

  “I do.”

  Julia took a long pull off the cigarette, studying the two of them. Agatha guessed she was not yet fifty, almost painfully thin, and a life-long smoker, if
the lines on her face were any indication. But it was her eyes that were striking. They seemed to take in everything. No doubt she did keep the police department running smoothly. Julia Perez reminded Agatha of Gina. A no-nonsense sort, but also a genuinely good person. She couldn’t have explained why she thought that, but Tony seemed to trust the woman and that was good enough recommendation for Agatha.

  Julia returned to where she’d been sitting. Tony and Agatha sat on a bench across from her so they could face the woman and talk while keeping their voices low.

  “You look as if you want to ask me something.” Agatha raised her eyebrows and waited.

  Julia nodded once. “That man who did the drawings...”

  “Henry?”

  “Henry Lapp.” She put a heavy emphasis on the last name and waited.

  It took Agatha a few heartbeats to understand what she was waiting for. “Oh, I see. We share the same last name.”

  “Are you related?”

  “Nein. Lapp is a very common name among the Amish.”

  “Huh.” Julia tapped ash off the end of her cigarette. “Why the visit, Tony? Haven’t seen you since the last murder at Agatha’s B&B.”

  “Hey. That’s not fair. Nathan’s murder was across from my place.”

  Julia waved away her objection, keeping her attention on Tony. “What do you want?”

  “To know what’s going on.”

  “Go upstairs and ask him.”

  “We both know how far that would get me.” When Julia didn’t offer anything else, Tony sat forward, elbows propped on his knees. “I’m not asking for state secrets. Just whatever you’d share at the water fountain.”

  “They took that out. Someone decided it was bad hygiene. Now there’s a vending machine that sells bottles of water for a dollar a pop.”

  “Julia...” Tony spread his hands. “Help a guy out?”

  She crushed out her cigarette in a receptacle filled with sand, sighing as she did so. Whether the sigh was for the spent cigarette or due to Tony’s request, Agatha couldn’t be sure. Standing, Julia said, “I can’t tell you anything about Nathan King’s murder.”

  “Because...”

  “Nothing to tell. As far as I know, Bannister hasn’t made any progress on finding the perp.”