When The Wind Blows: A Spruce Run Mystery

by Mark Mueller

  But things didn’t work out quite as they had hoped, because Werner Krause was a cheapskate. He was such a skinflint that he’d make Ebenezer Scrooge look like a bleeding-heart.

  Polly and Werner Krause had a childless marriage and after his father had passed away, Wuhrer found himself in the advantageous position of being her last living relative. So, he decided to bide his time and wait for Polly’s eventual demise.

  When the day of the will reading had come, Wuhrer believed he had at last arrived on Easy Street. When he discovered, however, that he would not get the Lachweiler Stone and that the bulk of Polly’s estate was in essence, worthless, he snapped. That diamond, the one asset that Polly Krause possessed, had slipped through his fingers. And he cracked.

  Instead of working something out with Maddy or just asking her for the ring, he went over to the darks side of the force. And he didn’t care who got hurt in the process.

  He struck like a rattlesnake. On their way home from the will reading, Maddy and her parents had stopped at a Route 22 diner in Bridgewater for a late lunch. While they were there, Wuhrer hatched himself an idea. He excused himself from the table and went to the men’s room, where he phoned Beth Henry with a plan and a piece of the action.

  And the greedy little bitch that Beth was, fell for it.

  When Maddy and her parents arrived home, Charlie was “missing.” Wuhrer had instructed Beth to snatch Charlie and take her to Snyder’s cabin, knowing it would be the one place where no one would look. From that point on, Wuhrer and Beth took turns minding Charlie at the cabin to keep up the illusion that neither of them was involved with the disappearance.

  Wuhrer and Beth had become acquainted a couple of months before when they crossed paths at Mattoon’s. Beth had complained to him that I was cheap and wasn’t paying her what she was worth. Wuhrer felt sorry for her. And he didn’t forget.

  Even the FedEx envelope had been a hoax. Beth had brought it to the Bugler’s office and insisted she found it under the front door, thus providing a false lead that would send everyone on a wild goose chase.

  No one could come up with a good theory as to why Beth would plant the FedEx envelope at the Bugler office, which was the event that led me to the cabin where Charlie was held. It didn’t make sense. Did she have a change of heart? Did she want me to find Charlie after all? I don’t know if we’ll ever know for sure what her intention was.

  Wuhrer admitted during an interrogation that he had put Beth up to the shooting. Beth’s anger toward me had gotten the best of her, and Wuhrer had taken advantage of it.

  He’d played her for a fool, and I almost pitied her. Almost.

  So, Maddy was hit with a bullet that had been meant for me. She had suffered a traumatic injury thanks to me, and it wasn’t right. Truth was often stranger than fiction. And it was beyond horrifying. Inconceivable.

  It was just a hunch when I decided to check out Snyder’s abandoned cabin. In hindsight, I wish I had remembered it before we had wasted our time with that first shack the day before. I didn’t remember Snyder’s shack because I had assumed it was long-gone after several years of abandonment. I should have known better.

  But the biggest thing I couldn’t figure out was why Maddy said “shack” to me just after she was shot. How did she know Charlie was there? When I asked her about it after she came home from the hospital, she insisted that she’d never said “shack” to me as she was bleeding in her living room. To this day, she’s insisted that she was in too much pain to talk.

  It was a mystery I couldn’t solve. I could only hope that one day Maddy might remember it.

  * * * *

  Hugo Wuhrer recovered, as expected, from the broken nose and superficial wounds he had received at the cabin. He was arrested and charged with the kidnapping of his granddaughter and for the attempted manslaughter of both Maddy and me. He wasn’t charged with attempted murder because although he had been involved, he hadn’t pulled the trigger.

  Instead of going to trial, Wuhrer plea-bargained and was sentenced to twenty-five years at the East Jersey State Prison in Rahway. With good behavior, he could be released in seventeen. To this day, he claims he was just trying to make a better life for his family.

  I doubt anyone is listening. I’m surely not.

  Beth Henry wasn’t as fortunate. She lost a good deal of blood from the bullet I had hit her with. And on account of the delay in receiving emergency medical attention, she went into a coma and hasn’t waked up since. The doctors don’t know if she’ll ever wake up again. If she does, she’d be a vegetable for the rest of her life.

  I will not lose any sleep over it.

  Beth was indicted in absentia for Charlie’s kidnapping and for the attempted murder of Maddy. The Hunterdon County prosecutor is patiently waiting for her recovery or her demise, whichever comes first.

  The same grand jury that indicted both Wuhrer and Beth declined to indict me for shooting Beth. The grand jury decided that I had acted out of self-defense when I shot her. And even more so, I was within my rights in protecting Charlie.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  I was as busy as a bee in a flower shop at the Bugler for several weeks following the kidnapping and shootings. Since I had missed several days of work in a row during the nightmare, I was behind schedule and almost missed the following week’s print deadline. That would have been disastrous. By a stroke of good fortune, I was able to hire someone right away to replace Beth Henry and get the edition out on time.

  Jennifer Lindiakos was a Journalism classmate of mine at Kean. I had heard from Mrs. Hayes, the local Spruce Run busybody, that Jennifer was looking to get back to work now that her children were of school age. I contacted her as soon as I found her number and offered her the job over the phone. She accepted and started the next day.

  The difference between Jennifer Lindiakos and Beth Henry was like the proverbial night and day. Jennifer was as competent as I was, and by her second day on the job I named her associate editor. She was that good, and I felt lucky to have had her around.

  Jennifer and I quickly developed a plan to get the Bugler back up to speed and ready to print. She jumped right in and wrote up the front section news, current obituaries and wedding announcements. I rewrote the kidnapping story I had posted online into a fifteen–thousand word feature, and then wrote a shorter story about the Lachweiler Stone. Because the feature was so long, we divided it into two parts and published it over two successive issues.

  We headlined the kidnapping on the front page and pushed the remaining stories back to subsequent pages. The Lachweiler Stone story was also teased on the front page just below the fold.

  Once we went to print and posted the stories online, the phones began to ring off the hook. We received calls from media outlets in New York and Philadelphia, and as far away as Boston and Washington D.C. As a result, I became an unwilling fifteen-minute minor celebrity. I disliked every minute of it and was quite pleased when the brouhaha finally died down.

  I couldn’t understand why people were so interested being in the limelight. I didn’t like it at all. In fact, I disliked it so much that I stopped giving interviews. I even stopped answering the phone. Jennifer volunteered to play secretary, and she simply told people that I wasn’t available.

  The media blitz played out after about two weeks, when the good people of Spruce Run decided they didn’t like airing their dirty laundry to outsiders. None of us did, and I was glad to get back to normal.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The Scientific America channel Ghost Chasers program visited Spruce Run three weeks later and spent a Saturday night in the library. I wasn’t at all interested in losing a night’s sleep waiting for nothing to happen, so I declined Debbie Duckworth’s offer to join them. Though I believe in angels from Heaven, I don’t believe in ghost hauntings. I mean, what’s the point? You had your chance to make your mark when you were alive. Once you’re dead, you’re dead and there aren’t any second chances.

  In any
case, I documented the visit in the Bugler after I had gotten Debbie’s bumper-sticker recap of the evening’s activities.

  SCIENTIFIC AMERICA COMES

  TO SPRUCE RUN

  Ghost Chasers Seek Elizabeth Morris

  By Louis McMurphy, Editor

  Spruce Run was host for Scientific America channel’s Ghost Chasers program last Saturday night at its historic library. Located in a beautiful eighteenth-century building on County Road 513, the library was originally built in 1730 and is currently listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The building had once served as a tavern and farmhouse before its current incarnation as the town library. Like countless other libraries throughout the United States, the Spruce Run library serves as a meeting place, resource center, and quiet sanctuary for local residents. Helpful and knowledgeable librarians answer questions and guide adventurous readers through book and magazine racks, as well as the Internet.

  Unlike most libraries, however, Spruce Run’s is cheerfully inclined to point out that one of its cardholders has never checked out a book. That cardholder is one Elizabeth Morris. What makes this most unusual is that Miss Morris is an alleged ghost. She is purportedly so active that the staff had issued her a library card.

  The Charleston Tavern, as the library was called during the Revolutionary War, was the scene of a tragic love affair between Elizabeth Morris, who was the innkeeper’s daughter and a tenant, Dr. Robertson. Just after the two became lovers, General Zebulon Harding hanged Dr. Robertson as a British spy, and his lifeless body was delivered to the tavern.

  Not knowing what was in the large pine box, Elizabeth Morris opened it. On seeing the bug-eyed corpse of her beloved, she became hysterical and suffered a nervous breakdown. Her insane weeping is allegedly still heard in the old section of the library, which consists of a meeting room and a public reading room, where the casket was opened.

  After renovations in 1974, library employees have reported seeing the apparition of Elizabeth moving through the old wing. Patrons in the library’s local history room can play a videotape recording of a séance held in 1987 in an effort to contact her spirit. In November 1989, a child allegedly witnessed the ghost of a woman in a long white dress in the reading room.

  The library has, over the years, attracted the attention of a few noted paranormal investigators. In 1976 the prolific and controversial psychic investigative team of Edward and Janice Loeb visited the library. Janice, who claims to be clairvoyant, reported sensing strong haunting activity soon upon entering the building. She identified a couple of highly active areas marked by pockets of “psychic cold” and described the spirit of Elizabeth Morris quite specifically. In 1987, psychical researcher Nadine Perry attempted to record evidence of electronic voice phenomenon (EVP) at the library. Sophisticated recording equipment using sealed tapes provided by local news reporters was set up on January 29th, the day believed to be the anniversary of Elizabeth’s traumatic discovery. (Notable is the fact that most of the phenomena have occurred in the winter).

  The all-night session by Perry resulted in the recording of possible EVP, including the sounds of furniture moving, dishes and glasses banging (tavern sounds?) and a fleeting voice, unintelligible except for the word “please.” The reporters all agreed that they heard none of these sounds during the taping session; they were audible only during later playback.

  With the cooperation of the library staff, the Scientific America cable channel television program Ghost Chasers organized a full field investigation at the library. On the night of July 21, Ghost Chasers arrived with two sheriff’s deputies and paranormal investigators Monica Mullen, Joseph Lerario, Ted Barkin as well as Lisa Wilkinson, a civilian psychic who has worked with various New Jersey law enforcement agencies. Library staffers Ruth Lucas and Jessica Paige were on hand to assist. The library was closed and locked up for the night, and the investigation was under way shortly after midnight.

  While all had hoped for a more direct and dramatic appearance by the ghost of Elizabeth Morris, nothing was seen or recorded, though everyone involved in the investigation agree that the cumulative effect of the series of small incidents, subjective and objective, is highly intriguing and perhaps more than what was indeed expected.

  The search continues.

  Ruth Lucas stormed into the Bugler’s office soon after that week’s edition hit the streets. She was outraged, and insisted I had libeled her beloved library. She threatened to see me in court if I didn’t retract the story.

  I didn’t put up much of a fight. I didn’t have to. Instead, I displayed Old Man Letts’ notebooks to her and asked if she would have any objection to my contacting the clairvoyants and psychics for their sides of the story.

  Ruth Lucas’s temperament deflated just as I thought it would. No one in Spruce Run would ever dispute Old Man Letts’ integrity, even after his death. Not even Ruth Lucas.

  I’m just glad I kept the notebooks.

  Once she understood I had the sources to back up my story, Mrs. Lucas had a sudden urge to make like diarrhea and run. She clammed up like a mollusk at high tide and left the Bugler as fast as Wiley Coyote’s Road Runner.

  It was good to have high friends in places.

  Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I received a phone call from Randall Applegate while Maddy recuperated in the hospital. He informed me that he was in possession of the Lachweiler Stone and wanted to know how Maddy would like to take delivery of it. I told him Maddy would be moving to my house once she came home from the hospital. I gave him my address and he promised to courier the ring to us right away.

  Applegate offered his condolences upon hearing my narrative of what had happened with Maddy and Charlie. He encouraged me to seek his assistance if we needed his help in the matter. I didn’t foresee any legal issues on our end, so I thanked him and declined. When I cradled the blower, I almost felt like spraying it with Lysol. I had the impression that Applegate was doing a little ambulance chasing.

  I can safely say I won’t be calling him back.

  I received the Lachweiler Stone the following day and put it in my safety deposit box at the Spruce Run Community Bank. To me, the diamond itself didn’t appear to be all that extraordinary. It was a carat and a half black diamond on a plain, eighteen-karat gold band. I wasn’t sure if it was worth what we had gone through to get it.

  * * * *

  Maddy moved into Hotel McMurphy when she was released from the rehabilitation center. We had talked about it during her recovery, and she decided she didn’t want to go back to her parents’ house. I made it clear to her that she and Charlie were welcome in my home for as long as they wanted.

  If it were up to me, the two of them would stay with me forever. But, I was in no rush. I didn’t want to force Maddy into something she was uncomfortable with. I assured her that I didn’t expect anything in return, and if she wanted to leave, then so be it. But still, I was excited about having the both of them with me. Maddy was back in my life and she was in my home, and I was going to support her in every way I could. She had accepted me for the person I had become and not the person she had broken up with six years before.

  The day Maddy had come home, she asked me to go to her parents’ house for her belongings. I sensed that she wasn’t ready to confront her mother. Both Maddy and Charlie were experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms from their ordeal and I knew those wounds would take longer to heal than the physical ones. Subsequently, I didn’t want to exacerbate things by having Maddy visit with her mother when she wasn’t ready to. Maddy didn’t want to see her mother, nor did she want her mother to have any contact with Charlie.

  I used Maddy’s Ford Explorer, and was done in three trips. At first, Maddy’s mother wouldn’t let me get Maddy’s things. However, my threat of a phone call to Ducky had straightened her out faster than you could say ‘court order.’

  My threat worked, and I encountered Amanda Wuhrer just once mo
re that day.

  When the last of Maddy’s possessions were loaded into the Explorer, I assured Amanda Wuhrer in candid terms that a restraining order would be filed against her by the end of the week because I didn’t want her anywhere near my house. I wasn’t planning to follow through with the threat, but I wanted to impress upon her that she was unwelcome at my home.

  Was it cruel for me to tell Maddy’s mother I was going to file a restraining order against her? Was I being hypocritical in seeking forgiveness from Maddy but at the same time keeping Amanda Wuhrer from her daughter and granddaughter? Perhaps, but I didn’t care. It was Maddy’s call, not mine. Amanda Wuhrer may not have had a hand in Charlie’s kidnapping, but until Hugo Wuhrer sought atonement and reconciliation, I was going to protect Maddy and Charlie at all cost. I was ready to build a moat around my house if necessary. I wasn’t fooling around.

  * * * *

  I set Maddy up in the master bedroom and Charlie in the guest room. I spent most of my energy turning the guest room into Charlie’s own. I brought her everything she owned and decorated the room similar to what she had before. She loved it.

  I didn’t spend as much time with the master bedroom because I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle things when my parents came back from Florida.

  It was a work in progress, and I’d deal with it when the time came.

  * * * *

  Charlie was flabbergasted when she found out that my cat didn’t have a name. It was sacrilege, she told me. I got a kick out of hearing that word come out of her mouth. I was impressed.

  So over the course of several days, she considered every conceivable pet name and settled on ‘Booger,’ a name that tickled me silly. I never would have imagined my cat would be named ‘Booger.’ But it was a perfect fit, considering the perpetual snit it was in. The name fit and it was comical.