Dead Broke

by Vannetta Chapman

  “She’s been building the case.” Linus looked at his wife fondly. “I’ve been working on my cooking skills and generally enjoying retirement. Still, when her case took her to the banks of the Guadalupe, I couldn’t resist tagging along.”

  “I told Agatha those Thompson people didn’t belong here, especially Valerie.” Gina reached for the tub of ice cream and added an additional scoop to her strudel. “It was plain as the Bottega heels on her feet that a B&B wasn’t her style.”

  “Valerie is in fact the one we were after, and she stayed here because she thought Agatha was off the map.”

  “I’m on the map.”

  “The resort in Fredericksburg would have been too flashy, or so she reasoned. We’re not sure how involved Eric was, but we’ll find that out.”

  “Kind of we already did find out.” Linus started to laugh, tossed a look at his wife, and waited for her to nod. When she did, he explained, “Patsy left them in an interview room together and forgot...”

  He used quote marks after the last word.

  “She forgot to take their cell phones away. Needless to say, Valerie made a call to her top growers, and they have been arrested by the group of DEA agents that were here earlier.”

  “You can do that?” Henry asked. “I mean...it’s legal to listen in to their conversation?”

  “Oh sure.” Patsy scooped out the last bite of strudel and washed it down with the coffee. “There’s no expectation of privacy in a police interview room. The evidence is admissible, and it certainly helps our case.”

  “But they also saw that Eric wasn’t quite as complicit as Valerie was. She’s bullying him the entire time, and there’s even an instance where it’s plain he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “Eric is guilty,” Patsy reiterated. “But not to the same degree that Valerie is. There’s a chance he can cut a deal.”

  “He seemed like a nice man,” Emma murmured.

  But Agatha was remembering how obnoxious he’d been the first day she’d checked the couple into the B&B. He might not be as guilty of drug dealing as Valerie was, but she wouldn’t exactly describe him as nice—not that a bad attitude warranted a prison term.

  Agatha cleared her throat and stared down at the cold strudel sitting in the now soupy ice cream. “What I want to know is, did they kill Nathan? Could they have...”

  Patsy began shaking her head, but Agatha pushed on with her theory. At this point, it was the only theory they had. She was running out of suspects.

  “It’s not possible.” Patsy crossed her arms on the table and looked directly at Agatha, as if she needed to make sure Agatha understood what she was saying. “At first we thought so too. A one-hundred-pound drug bust...”

  “One hundred pounds?” Gina’s spoon clattered into her bowl.”

  “A little over one hundred actually, and we only need ten pounds to make a federal case. The point is that we’ve put a lot of agents and a lot of hours on this one. When we heard about the killing, we thought they might be connected as well. We checked. The Thompsons were on a plane when Nathan was shot.”

  “Maybe they hired someone to do it.”

  “Except we were monitoring all of their communication—digital and cellular. We even had an agent on the plane to watch and see if they passed anyone a note. And we’ve been doing that for weeks. I went back and checked the logs myself. There was nothing about Nathan King in any of it. So unless they’re awfully astute, which trust me they’re not, then they didn’t do it.”

  “But we saw them over at the murder sight, looking for something.” Henry was thinking of the careful way they’d climbed the hill.

  “One of their growers had planted a fairly large cannabis field toward the far side of the property, well away from the cabins and such.”

  “It’s SOP for pot growers...” Linus interjected.

  “Soap?” Agatha felt more confused than ever.

  “SOP.” Tony smiled at her, looking as if he wanted to laugh but thought better of it. “Standard operating procedure.”

  “Rather than have their own property, they pay local growers to use someone else’s,” Patsy continued. “That way if it’s found, the owner has to explain why it’s there. You’d be surprised the amount of acreage that has absent land owners, or...in this case...the property is only used certain months of the year. What you saw, Henry, was Valerie and Eric climbing the hill looking for the field of cannabis. Apparently she’s not very good at reading a map and headed down instead of up, then retraced her steps.”

  Henry voiced what Agatha was thinking. “So cannabis was being grown on the same property where Nathan was killed, but those two events weren’t related. Seems like a rather large coincidence.”

  “And yet if we eliminate the impossible...”

  “Whatever remains must be the truth.” Tony tapped the table and nodded in agreement. “Arthur Conan Doyle.”

  “Valerie was here to check on her growers. Some had been skimming off the top. Some actually did a cut and run. She didn’t know about Nathan or his goats. She didn’t kill him. It was simply...coincidence.”

  “Then who did kill him?” Emma asked, her voice rising with her frustration. She was usually so quiet that everyone looked at her in surprise. “And who shot Joey? He seemed like such a nice young man. I just don’t understand why anyone would do such a thing.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t help you there. Maybe it was simply a homicide, not a murder.”

  “What’s the difference?” Emma asked.

  “Murder involves malicious intent.” Tony sat back, crossed his arms, and studied the group. “Maybe we’ve been looking at this all wrong. It’s possible that the person who shot Nathan did so by mistake.”

  “How do you shoot someone by mistake?” Agatha wasn’t buying it.

  “Perhaps the person was just angry with him and the gun went off accidentally—the person became frightened and ran. Or maybe they were aiming at someone else and hit Nathan by mistake. You’d be surprised at the number of possible scenarios.”

  It was after the Wrights had said their goodbyes, promising to return the following spring for a real vacation, that Agatha had a moment alone with Tony.

  “You don’t believe that, do you? That Nathan’s murder and Joey’s shooting were both simply accidents?”

  “It’s one possibility.” Tony interlaced his fingers with hers as they walked out from under the porch overhang and stared up at the stars.

  They stood there a moment, considering that unfathomable majesty.

  Finally he looked down at her, put a hand on both of her shoulders, and pulled her close enough to kiss her lightly on the lips. “But no, I don’t really think that’s what happened.”

  Agatha’s thoughts scattered with the kiss, but she reined them back in. “Then who did it? Who killed Nathan? Who shot Joey?”

  “I don’t know, Agatha, but it’s not our problem. We’re going to let Bannister and his officers figure this one out.”

  HENRY SLEPT WELL THAT night—for all of three hours. Then he woke with the urgent need to draw. Fortunately, Emma was a deep sleeper. He slipped from the bed, donned his robe, and padded over to the table. Not wanting to turn on the desk lamp, he picked up his drawing tablet and settled in the chair next to the window. The view looked out over the Guadalupe River. He could see very little of the water, only a splash here and there by the light of the late rising moon.

  But it soothed him, that sight.

  God had made all things. Through him all things were made. It had been one of his dat’s favorite scriptures, and it comforted his heart now, calmed his fears enough for him to draw.

  As he did, he remembered that often it was like this. He didn’t know what he needed to draw. He simply had an overwhelming urge to do so, as if his subconscious needed to whisper something but hadn’t the words—instead he had the pencil and the paper.

  He sat there for less than an hour.

  Henry couldn’t have said whe
ther his drawing was good or bad. He only knew people’s reactions to it. And really, their assessment of what he was able to do didn’t matter. Gotte had given him this gift, as Emma so often reminded him. He was grateful for it.

  And perhaps this...the sheet in his hand...perhaps it would help Agatha in some small way. He closed the journal, placed it on the desk, and slipped back into bed. Within five minutes he was asleep, and this time his dreams lasted until morning.

  Daniel and Mary were at the table before Emma and Henry. They had placed their suitcases, two small valises, by the door. Henry squeezed Emma’s hand. She’d shared with him before coming down what Mary had said the previous day, and what she hoped might come from that.

  As Agatha set breakfast out on the table, she caught everyone up on what they’d learned about Joey Smith.

  Mary sat staring at her hands until Agatha joined them at the table and everyone had begun to eat. Then she cleared her throat and looked up. “Agatha, Daniel and I would like to apologize. We haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  Agatha looked momentarily taken aback, but she managed to regain her composure. “That seems to be going around this week.”

  “We have no excuse, though.” Daniel met Henry’s eyes, and Henry nodded once to encourage the man. Confession was good for the soul, and in this case it might be good for their future as well. “We’re not dead broke like that young man Joey...”

  “Near enough,” Mary interjected.

  “It’s true that we’ve fallen on hard times. We’re not from Ohio, as we said. We were, but we moved to Florida hoping to enjoy our retirement years.”

  “Since we never had any children, it seemed better to sell the farm.”

  “Only when we arrived in Florida, things weren’t quite as they’d seemed. We found the prices there to be quite high...astronomical, actually.”

  “The only way we could make do was to take a loan out on a home and then lease it out to tourists. I guess you could say we’re homeless at this point.”

  Mary and Daniel shared a look, apparently relieved to have their small untruth off their conscious.

  “Why would you lie about a thing like that?” Agatha shook her head in disbelief. “It doesn’t matter to me where you’re from. Though that does explain Mary’s reaction to the snake. It didn’t make sense that she’d seen a diamondback in Ohio.”

  “I suppose we still think of Ohio as our home, and Florida...I’m not sure it ever will seem that way. Actually we have no idea what to do next, or where to go.” Mary reached for her napkin and dabbed at her eyes, then sat up straighter. “We’ll think of something, of course we will.”

  “We’re going to have to let the house in Florida go back to the bank, I think.”

  “Can’t you sell it?” Henry asked. He hated to see folks suffer from bad financial decisions. Too often such people took things at face value, or fell for a Ponzi scheme, or simply didn’t think a situation through far enough.

  “The market has changed again, so it’s not worth what we paid for it.” Daniel rubbed at the back of his neck. “We’re not even sure of our legal options, since we’ve missed a few payments.”

  Agatha snapped her fingers. “I know a lawyer here who can help you. Her name’s Kiara Bledsoe, and she offered wunderbaar assistance to me when I needed it.”

  “But we can’t stay in Hunt. We have nowhere to live. Daniel’s too old to work, and we put all of our savings into the Florida place.”

  Agatha tapped her a finger against her lips. “Would you be willing to work? I don’t mean plowing and such. But would you be willing to be caretakers for a small place?”

  “I’d be willing to do anything that took this monkey off my back,” Daniel admitted. “I don’t mind saying it’s robbed me of the ability to enjoy the smallest things.”

  “I’ll put in a call to my bishop then. I think I know just the place. That is, if you’re willing to stay in Texas.”

  “We like it here,” Mary admitted. “And your community seems...kind.”

  Which settled the topic. Agatha made a call to Bishop Jonas, explained the situation, and he promised to stop by later in the day.

  Henry walked into her office as she was hanging up the phone.

  “I only use it for business,” she defended herself, looking rather sheepish.

  “Ah. Caught by the bishop.”

  “Indeed.”

  They both laughed, and then Henry handed her the drawing.

  “What is this?”

  “The buggy that was pulling away from your barn, after Joey was shot.”

  She pulled the sheet closer, then reached for her reading glasses that were under a pile of papers on the desk. Perching them on her nose, she studied it again. “We need to get this to Tony.”

  “I thought so too.”

  Henry had only caught the last two digits of the buggy’s license plate, but perhaps Tony could do something with it. Fortunately, he was home.

  “Sure. We can try. Might get a hundred hits, might only get one.” His smile was wolfish.

  Henry and Agatha waited as he placed a phone call, then turned on his computer and scrolled and tapped, and scrolled some more, before putting in the plate’s last two numbers.

  The little curser turned into a circle that spun for an inordinate amount of time, and then the computer binged.

  “That was quick.” Tony leaned forward, Agatha and Henry standing close behind him.

  “Three results,” Agatha sounded as giddy as Henry felt.

  “All here in Hunt county.” Tony turned to Henry. “Want to take a ride with me?”

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  “Agatha?”

  “Nein. I’ve been running around all week, sticking my nose where it probably doesn’t belong. I need to stay home and work today, though I would like to go and see Joey before he’s released from the hospital.”

  Henry and Tony looked at her in surprise.

  “It’s just that I could use some help around the place. The Blodgett boy has gone off to college, so I’ll need someone to care for the horse.”

  “Joey’s from Dallas,” Tony pointed out. “I don’t think he has experience with horses.”

  “But he can learn.”

  Henry nodded in approval. “You have a gut heart, Agatha.” Then he hurried back to the B&B to tell Emma where he was going. Perhaps they could bring this case to a close before they left after all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tony snagged Agatha’s hand as she started back toward her place.

  “You’re going to stay home and clean?”

  “Ya. I’ve been neglecting the place.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You enjoy putting your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say that.”

  “You never give up on a mystery.”

  She sighed, crossed her arms, then admitted, “I’m stuck. I can’t think of a single lead.”

  “No leads, huh?” He tucked a stray hair into her kapp. “So you’re not giving up, you’re just...”

  “Pausing. I’m pausing. Even if you do find the buggy that has those letters Henry drew, I don’t think you’re going to find the person who shot Joey sitting in it. Most likely the person borrowed the buggy from someone else. Happens all the time. Sort of like leaving the keys in your truck in case someone needs it.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “But you’ve loaned it to someone from time to time.”

  He nodded in agreement. She knew he’d done that very thing just the week before.

  “All right. Just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”

  “I’m offended by that remark, Tony Vargas.”

  “Oh, are you?”

  “Ya, but it’s also kind of sweet.” She brushed imaginary lent off his shoulder. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

  And she
did have every intention of staying home and cleaning and baking. The only guests she had were Henry and Emma. Supper would be simple enough. Maybe they could even play some Dutch Blitz afterwards.

  She’d given Gina the day off. The woman had worked more than her allotted hours already that week. Emma was in the kitchen, helping her cut biscuit dough into dumplings when there was a thud on the front porch.

  “Uh-oh.”

  They ran out together, only to find a rock, wrapped in newspaper on the front porch.

  “Lucky it didn’t hit a window.”

  Carefully pulling the paper off the rock, Agatha was surprised to find nothing else wrapped around it.

  “Turn the paper over,” Emma said.

  And there was the note, written in black permanent marker over the newsprint.

  You shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.

  If you don’t want someone else to get kilt, meet me in one hour.

  There was a crude map drawn below the words.

  “Do you know where that is?” Emma asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Are you going to go?”

  “Ya. I don’t want anyone else to get kilt...” She rolled her eyes, though some instinct told her this might be a quite serious matter.

  “I’m going with you then.”

  Agatha looked up, studied Emma for a moment, then nodded.

  They tried to call Tony, but his phone must have been out of service. It wouldn’t even go through to voice mail, which was odd, but then cell service was notoriously bad in their area. Or so people said. Agatha wouldn’t know.

  Then she called Gina and explained the situation. She held the phone’s receiver away from her ear and grimaced at Emma. She wants to go, she mouthed, before pulling the receiver closer and addressing Gina. “You can’t go with us. Someone needs to tell Tony and Henry when they return. Or keep trying to call him. I couldn’t get any answer at all. Emma has drawn out a copy of the note and map. We’ll leave it here on the table.”

  She hung up quickly before Gina could talk her out of it.

  “I suppose she wasn’t happy.”

  “Not at all.”