Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3)

by Maggie Pill

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Retta

  We were having an amazing stretch of weather for a Michigan May. The temperatures went up to the mid-70s each day, and the rains, which had been plentiful in April, receded most mornings by 9:00, leaving the world fresh and green but the ground dry. I stayed away from the agency for a few days, letting Barbara Ann get over her grump. I should know better than to try to help, because she simply cannot admit she might need advice. One good thing about her is she doesn’t hold a grudge. Once she’s said her piece and had a little time to herself, she’s fine.

  The girls and I had a good time except for two things. First, Pansy worried about her animals. She kept asking if Faye’s sons knew about reindeer and whether they’d remember they need a fan when the weather starts getting hot. Being an animal lover myself, I understood how hard it was for her to trust someone else to take as good care of her critters as she had.

  The other problem was Daisy, who’d left her doll behind at the cabin. We’d assured her Miss Gladiolus was safe out there, but she worried the doll would think she’d been abandoned. “She always sleeps with me,” she explained. “I’ve got Pansy and Iris to sleep with now, but Miss Gladiolus hasn’t got anybody.”

  To relieve their minds, I decided to take the girls out to the farm for an afternoon. When I called Faye, she said she’d meet us out there. She wanted to see her sons and her horses, of course, but I was a little surprised when Barbara said she’d go as well. She even offered to bring lunch, which meant it would come from somewhere like the Colonel’s. Barbara has as much interest in cooking as I have in learning Mandarin Chinese.

  We arrived at about the same time, so a small crowd descended on what Bill and Carla have begun calling Prospero’s Farm, I guess because it’s a magical place.

  Pansy was out of the car almost before I turned off the engine, heading for the barnyard. Iris helped Daisy out, promising they’d fetch the doll right after lunch, and headed for the garden, where Carla was thinning a row of carrot plants. Always helpful, Iris knelt at the opposite end of the row and began working.

  Daisy was thrilled when Faye opened the back door of her Escape to release Buddy. She squealed his name, and the dog ran to her in an odd little lope in which his back legs looked like they were trying to pass his front ones. Styx was still on his leash, and I held on, fearful of fireworks between the two dogs. Oddly, Buddy completely ignored Styx, and Styx didn’t approach Buddy either. When I unclipped his leash he ran happily off to visit the reindeer.

  I recalled Faye telling me that when dogs meet on neutral territory they often tolerate each other better. She might have been right, though the animosity wasn’t Styx’s fault. The whole problem could have been avoided completely if Faye’s dog was a little less grouchy.

  Bill came from a shed, calling hellos to everyone. Barbara and Faye unloaded bags and boxes of food, setting them on an old table Cramer had rescued from the donation pile for use at our picnic. It was draped with an old sheet, and Carla had already set out china plates and metal cutlery for everyone (no paper products or plastics for them!) Barb took an oversized jug of water out of the back of her car, and I heard ice cubes click against each other. Bill and Carla frown on soda and other sweet drinks, so water and green tea would be the libations of the day.

  As Faye and I set out the food, Barbara and Cramer disappeared into the bunkhouse. Bill gave Pansy a tour of the barnyard, introducing her to Anni-Frid and Agnetha. Pansy came back impressed. “They’re beautiful!”

  “If you like, you can ride them,” Faye told her. “They need exercise, and I’m not up to it.”

  “Could I?” Pansy asked.

  “Sure. Their former owner tossed in their equipment. Between us I think we can figure out how it goes together.”

  “Can I do it now?”

  Faye smiled. “Let’s eat first, before everything gets warm or cold or whatever it isn’t supposed to be.”

  Carla and Iris stopped their work and washed their hands at the spigot beside the water trough. Bill and Pansy joined them, while I passed my hand sanitizer to everyone else. Soon we were seated on the grass, munching on chicken, coleslaw, and mashed potatoes, except for Carla, who is vegetarian. She ate something she’d made with tofu.

  Bill asked the girls questions about how the place had been run. Iris and Pansy answered, warming to him as he revealed a genuine interest in their opinions. He thought one of the cattle might have a bad leg, and Pansy promised gravely to have a look at it. Carla asked Iris if she thought there were enough vegetables planted to sell at the farm market, and Iris explained how her mother had made successive plantings so crops came in all summer and into the fall. “I can help if you want,” she offered. “It’s a lot of work.”

  Carla smiled. “We’re new at this, so we keep wondering if we’re forgetting steps or doing things we’ll be sorry for later.”

  “Mom has a book,” Pansy volunteered. “She keeps track of what she does so the next year she knows what worked and what didn’t.”

  “If you could show it to me, that would be great,” Carla said. “After we’re finished eating, of course.”

  “We have to go get Miss Gladiolus,” Daisy reminded us. “We can’t forget her again!”

  “And who is that?” Bill asked.

  “She’s my doll. Momma made her for me and—” Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. “Now I don’t know where Momma is and I don’t have Miss Gladiolus either.”

  Faye moved toward Daisy, but Carla was closer and got there first. Taking the child into her arms, she hugged her. “We’ll find your doll, Sweetie, don’t worry. And wherever your momma is, we all know she loves you very, very much.”

  A cloud of sadness dimmed our happy picnic for a few moments. Iris looked at her plate. Pansy blinked back her own tears, and the rest of us fell silent. Berating myself for bringing the girls out here and reminding them of their trouble, I struggled for something encouraging to say. Nothing came to mind.

  In all likelihood the girls were alone in the world. The farm that had been their home for three years was now in someone else’s hands. Their fate would soon be decided by a court system too overwhelmed to consider their wishes. They could keep hoping their mother would return, but hope wasn’t enough.

  Clearing his throat, Bill said, “Tell you what. Iris can show Carla where Rose’s book on growing things is. Pansy can come with me and see about the cow’s leg. Mom, Aunt Barb, and Aunt Retta can take Daisy to the cabin to get Miss Gardenia—”

  “Miss Gladiolus,” Daisy corrected. I thought from Bill’s expression he made the mistake on purpose to distract her from her grief.

  “Miss Gladiolus. Later we can have some of the honey ice cream Carla conjured up this morning, and then we’ll see about riding the horses. Does that sound like a good plan for the afternoon?”

  Everyone agreed it was a good plan, and the sadness dissipated a little. “Buddy!” Daisy called, rising and slapping her thighs. “Come on, Bud. We’re going for a walk.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Barb

  Though Bill and Cramer hadn’t been there long enough to make any substantive changes, the farm seemed somehow livelier. Of course spring wakes everything up, and the crops that former tenants had planted and nurtured were growing nicely. Along with the garden plants, Mom’s flowers bloomed everywhere, and it felt as if she’d reached out to remind us she loved us.

  “Hey, Aunt Barb.” Cramer met me at my car and helped with the unloading. Though they’re all decent men, Cramer is my favorite nephew. If I had a son, I imagine he’d be a lot like Cramer, introspective, capable, and intuitive about people—except in the case of his wife/not wife/wife. Loyalty is a wonderful thing—except when it’s not.

  “How are you settling in out here?” I asked as we worked.

  “I like it,” he said. “Trees don’t play loud music, and the animals are grateful for everything they get.”

  I waved toward the bunkhouse. “What can we get you to make
that old place comfortable?”

  He grinned. “I’ve got everything I need. Let me show you.”

  Faye and Retta had taken control of the meal, so I followed Cramer to the bunkhouse, which was vastly different from the musty, dusty shack I recalled. He’d installed fluorescent fixtures in two tracks down the entire ceiling, lighting the room with an efficient if not particularly warm glow. More than half of the long, low room was full of computer equipment. In the remaining section was an apartment-sized stove, a dormitory-type refrigerator, a microwave, a queen-sized bed, and a flat-screen TV the size of Rhode Island. The bunkhouse, once meant for many men, had become Cramer’s place for many electronics.

  Lunch was pleasant, and the girls chatted about gardening and animal care like old farm wives at a grange meeting. There were sad moments when they thought about their mom, but I knew they’d have such times on and off for a long time to come.

  I was sure disaster would strike when Retta insisted Styx was going with us to the cabin. Faye’s dog and Retta’s dog hate each other—well, that’s not true. Faye’s dog hates Retta’s dog, but he hates almost everyone. Styx doesn’t hate anyone, but he knows he’s not welcome in Buddy’s world. It confuses his pea-sized brain, and he keeps trying and getting snapped at.

  Apparently the farm served as a demilitarized zone. While Buddy didn’t warm to Styx, he didn’t object to his presence. And while Styx did his usual prancing-and-dancing moves, he gave Buddy space, tacitly admitting they’d never be besties.

  We started walking, Styx exploring in wide circles around us and Buddy remaining at Faye’s heels. Daisy had recovered her usual good spirits, and she pointed out objects along the way, pretty stones, cow-pies, and an occasional flowering weed that for some reason interested her more than dozens of others we passed.

  When we got to the woods, Buddy stopped, growling low in his throat. Styx sniffed the air tentatively, too, as if he detected something new.

  “What is it, boy?” The dog didn’t answer Faye. What a surprise.

  “Probably a deer,” I said. “They must love it here with the planted fields all around and the trees for cover.” Something I’d read came to mind and I said, “Did you know deer secrete a strong pheromone from a gland near their eyes?”

  “How you doing, Daisy?” Retta asked. “Are you tired of walking?”

  “I’m okay,” the child replied. “It’s nice out here.”

  Another growl from Buddy. We stopped and listened, but we heard nothing. Just to be safe, I searched out a stout tree branch. If I didn’t need it for protection, I could use it as a walking stick.

  “Probably a deer, like you said,” Faye remarked, and we went on.

  “Yes. The article said antlers are the fastest-growing living tissue in the world. And deer can move their ears without moving their heads. Their eyes allow them—”

  “Speaking of hearing,” Retta interrupted, “Faye tells me you found a bug in your office.”

  “We did.”

  “So Gabe didn’t alert them to our investigation. They were listening in all along.”

  “I’m sure Gabe visit to Farrell’s store didn’t help,” I said.

  Retta made an impatient sound with her lips. “I don’t see how it could have hurt.”

  As we came up the last rise before the cabin, Buddy started barking, the hair on his neck bristling with tension. Not one to be left out, Styx added his deeper bark to Buddy’s, making enough noise to wake the dead.

  Pulling Daisy close, Faye crouched behind a tree. Retta and I chose our own trees, and we peered cautiously down the slope before us. The cabin looked much the same as before. For a split second I thought I saw movement on the other side of the pond, but as I turned to focus on it, there was nothing. It had been brown, a bird or a squirrel, most likely. Still, past events had made me cautious, and I waited, scanning the area around us.

  Faye ordered Buddy to be quiet, and he stopped barking. Styx doesn’t take orders, but when Buddy stopped making noise, he did too. The scene before us went quiet.

  “Stay with Daisy,” I told Faye. I started down the slope, taking cover when possible. Hearing a sound behind me, I turned to see Retta following. She stooped to pick up a branch, and I recalled the damage she’d done to a bad guy with a similar weapon on our last adventure. Giving her an encouraging nod, I continued toward the cabin. It felt good to have her at my back. For all her faults, Retta isn’t afraid to wade into danger when it’s required.

  There was nothing there. The cabin was as we’d left it—or rather, as the sheriff’s men had left it. After we looked in the corners, checked to see that the bunker was empty, and looked out both windows, Retta went out and signaled to Faye, who started toward us. Buddy seemed no longer worried about whatever he’d seen before, and I concluded it probably had been an animal.

  Inside the cabin Daisy went directly to the box where Miss Gladiolus lay. “I bet you missed me!” she told the doll as she gave her a big hug. Our mission accomplished, we had nothing else to do there, but we lingered, taking in our childhood retreat and the changes that had been made to it.

  After exploring the cabin briefly, Styx went back outside. I saw him pass the windows, his nose to the ground. When I heard the splash of water, I groaned. Newfs can’t resist diving into any pond, river or lake they encounter, and I knew we’d be returning to Allport with a damp, slimy dog in the back of Retta’s car.

  When Styx returned, his big frame darkening the doorway, he had something in his mouth. “What did you find, Baby?” Retta asked.

  Styx never gives his prizes up willingly. It’s entertaining to watch Retta try to play catch with him because he goes after an object willingly, brings it within a few feet of her, and then resists all her attempts to get it back. That’s what he did now, holding onto what he’d found and backing away when Retta approached.

  I was only mildly interested. With Styx, the prize might be a stick, a piece of bark, or a rock. I’ve seen him play with half-rotten apples, tossing them into the air and running them down as if they had legs and were trying to escape.

  This time, however, it was something else.

  “Barbara Ann.” Retta’s voice sounded odd, and I turned to see what she’d wrestled away from the dog.

  Daisy turned from introducing Buddy to Miss Gladiolus. “That’s Momma’s!” she cried. “Styx, where did you get my momma’s shoe?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Faye

  When Daisy identified the item Styx had found as Rose Isley’s shoe, I looked from Barb to Retta, seeing grave concern in their eyes. Tacitly we agreed we couldn’t let Daisy know what we suspected was outside the cabin.

  “Daisy,” Retta said briskly. “You and Faye take your dolly and go back to the house. I’ll bet Bill’s got the ice cream ready.”

  The child looked doubtful. “What about Momma?”

  “Barbara Ann and I will look for her, won’t we Barbara?”

  “Yes,” Barb replied, her voice choked. “We’ll find her if we can.”

  “Will you bring her to the house so she can have ice cream too?”

  Barb bit her lip before answering. “We will, Sweetie. If we can.”

  I kept up a stream of patter as Daisy and I walked, to keep her from looking around as well as to distract myself from visions of what Styx might bring to Retta next. What would my sisters find out there? I guessed it wouldn’t be pretty.

  When we got near the house Daisy called, “Styx found Momma’s shoe in the woods. Miz Evans and Retta are looking for her.”

  Pansy rose immediately. “I’ll go help them.” Iris looked to me and read the message in my eyes. “Stay here,” she ordered. “They’ll call Mrs. Burner if they find her. Then we’ll all go.”

  As Carla dished up ice cream, I took Bill aside and told him what had happened. “What should we do?” he asked.

  “I think I should take the girls home,” I replied. “If Barb and Retta find Rose, there’ll be police all over this place in half
an hour.”

  He nodded, his gaze turning toward the three girls who sat in a little circle, eating homemade ice cream. “I’ll let Carla know what’s going on.” He shook his head sadly. “They’re such nice kids. You’ll have to bring them back out in a day or two so they can ride the horses.” His eyes said more: that the girls had something terrible to face, and he wanted to be able to help them get past it when they were ready.

  “Yes,” I said, my throat thick with sorrow. “Pansy will like that.”

  We made a quick plan. Bill went inside the house and called my phone. I pretended to speak to Barb then reported to the girls that they hadn’t found anything. I said Barb reminded me we had paperwork that had to be filed by the end of the day, so we had to head back to town right away. When Daisy asked about the dogs, I said they were having a really good time in the woods, so Retta would bring them along later.

  It was the most lying I’ve done in a long time, and it was only doable because I didn’t want them to know their mother lay out in the woods somewhere, dead.

  Iris didn’t believe it for one second. Pansy was clearly reluctant to leave, but Iris spoke softly to her. Her face stiff with knowledge she shouldn’t have to bear, Iris helped Daisy get into my car, buckling her in with the seatbelt.

  It was two hours before Retta and Barb returned, looking exhausted. On his home turf, Buddy turned territorial and growled at Styx. Retta invited the girls to come with her as she took Styx out to Dale’s workshop. While they were outside, Barb told me what they’d found.

  “She was in the pond, out where the deep hole is. It’s hard to tell with the decomposition, but they said her skull is damaged, consistent with a blow to the back of the head.”

  “So McAdams killed Rose and sank her body in the pond.”

  “He weighed it down with some bricks from that pile in the yard.” She sighed. “It’s hard to say if he hoped it was a permanent burial or if he intended to move the body later. He must have known the pond would shrink over the summer.”

  “We’ll never know, I guess. Ben didn’t expect to fall off that silo.”