Chicken Scratch (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 1)

by Becki Willis

  Outside the incinerator, she heard Eddie banging and clanging around as he prepared to start the furnace. She worked frantically, sobs hiccupping in her chest.

  Madison heard him flip the switch, heard the rush of gas swoosh down the pipe, waited for the powerful surge of heat to blast against her skin.

  A small ‘click’ echoed in the empty chambers as the igniter failed.

  Gas fumes filled the air around her before quickly dissipating, but not before she inhaled the noxious vapor. Nausea roiled in her stomach and made her head swim, but she kept steadily banging on the probe, lest it finally kick in.

  She heard Eddie curse at the failed attempt to light and braced herself for another burst of propane. This time, she held her breath and buried her face against her arm until the fumes evaporated. As Eddie tried to start the burner for the third time, Madison finally delivered the fatal blow that permanently disabled the igniter. If he still planned to burn her alive, he would have to find another way.

  Madison knew it was only a temporary reprieve. Eddie Menger could not let her live, not after telling her everything he had done. She only had a few moments to think of another plan.

  Lying back down on the grate in the cramped space, Madison fished in her pocket to find her cell phone. Afraid he would hear her if she called for help, she decided to text. She did a group message to all her family contacts and to Brash, shooting off a text message that was inadvertently altered with auto-correct. Not bothering to double check the interpretation, Madison pushed send.

  At New Beginnings Café, Genesis felt the cell phone buzz in her pocket as she poured Tom Pruett another cup of coffee. She glanced up at the clock, wondering why Madison had not arrived yet. Her ‘be there in 10’ time estimate was up about ten minutes ago. It was probably her texting now, saying she was finally on the way.

  “The people doing the documentary want to focus on my time in the Navy.” The old man continued to talk as she refreshed his cup.

  “I thought you said you were in the Army,” Genesis frowned.

  “Oh, no, no, the Navy. I flew a fighter jet. Let me tell you something, it was quite a feat landing those babies on a mere three hundred foot runway.” He went off into the technical details of aligning dashboard sights with deck markings, back before the process was automated by computers. Genesis only half-listened. She was beginning to suspect that Cutter was right about Tom Pruett; most of the man’s stories were too outlandish —and too often changed— to be true.

  After several minutes, she sneaked a peek at the message on her phone.

  Bond at bb field. Eddie men get. I’m incinerator. SOS.

  Genesis frowned, wondering what on earth it meant. She hadn’t heard anything about a bond. And besides, the baseball field was only a few years old. Why would there be a bond to build a new one? And who was this Eddie that would get the men to build it? But most importantly, what did she mean by ‘I’m incinerator’? Did she mean she was furious? Burning mad? It didn’t make sense.

  “I’m in the process of building a new helicopter prototype right now,” her customer went on. “I’m waiting on a shipment of parts to get here from Canada. You would not believe how much this project is costing me, but if I sell the blueprints to the Navy as planned, I should pocket a cool million, plus royalty rights.”

  “Mmm, that sounds nice,” Genesis murmured in distraction, her mind still on her message.

  ‘SOS’, it said. Help her because she was angry, or help her because she was in trouble?

  “Excuse me, Mr. Pruett, I have to go.” She walked off in the middle of his inventory list of parts, but he never seemed to notice. He continued to rattle off items as Genesis sent a message back to her friend.

  What’s going on? Where are you?

  Seconds later, her phone buzzed.

  Mom, what’s up? Strange message, even for you. LOL.

  The reply message for the group text came from Blake’s phone. As an afterthought, he added another.

  You okay? Text me back. LYB.

  A new message popped up from Madison.

  911! Send help to fat m!

  Shilo Dawne passed by as Genesis frowned down at her phone, trying to decipher the crazy messages from her friend.

  “What’s wrong, Miss Genny?”

  Genesis looked up with a stricken expression in her blue eyes. “I keep getting these weird messages from Madison. Something about a bond at the baseball field and somebody named Eddie. Now she wants help at the fat m, wherever that is. I think she’s in trouble, but I have no idea where she is!”

  Looking over her boss’s shoulder to see the screen, Shilo Dawne read the messages. “Spell check,” she guessed. “‘Eddie men get’ is probably Eddie Menger, the Service Tech for Barbour.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re a genius!” Genesis gasped. “And that’s a bomb. A bomb at school! You call 9-1-1; I’m headed out to the Gleason farm!” She was already halfway to the door, texting as she ran.

  Hang on on my way!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Eddie Menger tried to light the furnace several more times. With each effort, enough gas leaked around the packed fabric to make Madison light-headed. She knew it was important to stay awake and alert, but she was growing groggy. She lay back and rested her weary body, trying to formulate a plan in case no one answered her text message or could not get here before Eddie implemented his own Plan B.

  She thought of her children and a drowsy smile came to her face. They were both such good kids. Blake had been turning girls’ heads since he was twelve, and every year he seemed to get taller and broader and more handsome. He had a quick wit and a funny sense of humor, and his father’s blue-gray eyes. And Bethani. Dear Beth, with her tender heart and big baby blues. She had taken her father’s death so hard; how would she react to losing her mother, so soon afterward? Both twins would be devastated.

  Pictures of the past flashed through her mind, tiny little snippets in time that warmed her soul and made the thought of death somehow easier. The twins’ first birthday party. Blake, learning to ride his tricycle. Bethani chasing after him on foot. Funny things they said and did, the handmade cards they made her each Mother’s Day, the way they still kissed her goodnight before they went to sleep each night.

  “Love you bunches.” Madison whispered their trademark saying aloud, her voice faint.

  Her thoughts flitted to Gray. They had been so happy on their wedding day. Even happier the day the twins were born. Her mind wandered through those happy years, lingering on pleasant memories of a picnic in the park, their vacation at Disney World, a special Valentine dinner, a passionate night of making love. A dark memory intruded, but she pushed it away. Not now. Not her last thoughts of the man she once loved.

  Her mind grew fuzzier. Granny Bert would take care of the children. Granny Bert and Genny, dear, sweet Genny. The best friend anyone could ever have.

  She heard her phone buzz and she lifted it with a weak hand, trying to read the screen. Genesis wanted to know what was going on.

  Shaking her head to clear it, Madison realized the gas was taking its toll on her. She couldn’t give up, not now. With new determination, she worked to stuff the jacket sleeve tighter into the gas line. She opened the water bottle and took a long sip to clear her mind, then crawled around until she could put her face against the filthy black wall of the incinerator and breathe fresh air through the cracks. Within just a few minutes, she felt her mind clear and her body awaken.

  The first time Eddie struck the outside of the incinerator with a pipe wrench, trying to force a connection so the furnace would come on, she absorbed the blow with staggering force. The walls of the cast iron oven quaked as he banged metal upon metal. Madison fell away as surely as if he dealt her a direct hit, her cheek immediately smarting. Tears of pain pricked her eyes and she covered her ears with her hands as the sounds echoed within the hollow cavity.

  Hope sprang in her chest when she heard the rumble of a truck and the crunch of appro
aching tires on the white rock.

  “What the hell is a feed truck doing here?” she heard Eddie roar. Judging by sounds and the shadows she could decipher through a tiny slit in the corner of the oven, she knew he dropped the wrench and hurried away.

  He would stop the truck before it came any closer. Once he got rid of the driver, he would come back. And when he did, he would kill her. There was no doubt in Madison’s mind.

  She picked up her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

  It took a moment for her to convince the operator that she was not playing a prank on her. Yes, there was a bomb on the school baseball field. No, she did not set it. Yes, she was truly trapped inside an incinerator on a chicken farm. Yes, someone was deliberately trying to kill her. No, she would not hold the line until help arrived.

  She hung up and called each of her children, knowing they were both at school and could not answer, but leaving voice messages saying that she loved them both very much and that she was proud of them. Then she called Genesis.

  Another voice mail box.

  “I probably don’t have long to talk. Eddie Menger killed Ronny Gleason and some grower in Leon County, and he’s in on the cockfighting. He set the fire at the Muehler place to lure the police out there so he could kill me. I managed to disable the incinerator but I know he’ll find another way. Genny, take care of the kids for me. I know you’ll love them and raise them the way I would. Make sure they go to college and don’t get mixed up in drugs. Bethani needs extra help in math and Blake wants to go to the Valentines dance. Remind them that I love them, and don’t ever tell them the truth about their father. Thank you, Genny, for always being there for me. I love you, my friend. Take care of yourself.”

  Madison was quite proud of herself for getting through the conversation without breaking down. Not wanting to risk Eddie coming back and hearing her talk and know that she still had her phone, she texted her next message. She wrote a detailed message to Brash, outlining Eddie’s criminal deeds and warning of the bomb on the baseball field. Even if the man killed her, he would not get away with the murders.

  After a final text to Granny Bert, thanking her for her guidance through the years and her undying love and support, Madison slid the phone back into her pocket and waited for Eddie to return.

  Her only weapon was a ballpoint pen.

  She did not have long to wait. She heard him return with shuffled feet, cussing and grumbling the entire way. She heard the truck come nearer, circle around the end of the nearest house, and all too soon roar away, leaving only silence.

  “Damn piece of junk!” Eddie yelled, tossing something against the side of the incinerator’s wall. “Ronny kept saying it wouldn’t light half the time, but he was too cheap to fix it, that sorry -” The words faded as Eddie apparently bent over and mumbled them toward the ground. She heard a scraping noise, then a clang. She realized he was undoing the wire he had wound round and round the handle. Soon he would have the hatch open, and it would be her best chance at escape. He probably expected her to be half-drugged from the noxious propane fumes.

  Madison forced herself to lie still. She kept her lids all but closed, relying on only the tiniest sliver of sight to implement her plan. She felt the blessed rush of cold air swoosh in when Eddie opened the hatch door, but schooled herself to only take tiny, inconspicuous breaths.

  “You still alive in there, or did the gas do you in?” he asked, poking at her arm. She forced herself not to flinch. She pretended to be unconscious, even as he leaned closer and pulled on her eyelid. She dared not allow her eyes to focus, not until he lowered his arm.

  The moment he pulled his arm back, his face still bent close to peer at her, Madison’s fist flew forward, the pen gripped tightly in her hand. She aimed for his throat, at the tender dip of his jugular notch.

  As the tip of the ballpoint pen sank into the soft flesh, angled downward, blood spurted in all directions. Madison was instantly horrified and appalled, and wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand away, but she drove the pen in with all her might. It was his life or hers.

  Eddie Menger staggered backwards, reaching for the pen with both hands as he gasped for air. Madison did not wait to see if he succeeded in pulling the makeshift weapon from his throat; she pushed her legs free and wiggled out of the small space as quickly as possible. She heard fabric rip and felt her knees give way as she landed on rubber legs. She fell to the ground, only inches from where Eddie sprawled out on the white rock, his entire body twitching as he grappled for air.

  Assuming she had crushed his windpipe, Madison wasted no pity on the man. She skirted around him, trying to make her escape, but one long leg darted out, catching her foot as she ran past. She tripped, landing hard on her palms and collecting a few small pebbles beneath her skin. Mindless to the pain, she half-crawled, half-scampered away, finally pulling herself to her full height as she gained ground.

  Madison ran like the wind, not bothering to look behind her. He could be already dead or just inches behind, but she wasn’t slowing down long enough to confirm either. She raced up the gravel road, past Granny Bert’s car that Eddie still held the keys to, and was just turning the corner when she saw Genesis’s car flying onto the farm.

  Genesis slammed on her brakes, skidding to a stop ten feet beyond Madison. By the time the dust settled and Genny was out of the car, yelling her name and pulling her into a fierce hug, Madison could hear sirens in the distance.

  Help had arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Eddie Menger died on the way to the hospital. Madison found some small measure of relief in knowing he actually died from a heart attack, rather than from asphyxiation.

  There was no bomb at the high school and the detonator was fake, but it looked real enough to make Madison willingly crawl into the furnace to face her death. When Blake heard that part of the story, tears came to his eyes and he threw his arms around his mother, hugging her extra tight.

  There was no getting out of a trip to the hospital this time. Even though Madison insisted she felt fine and had only a lingering headache from the propane fumes, no one would listen. Only after a doctor checked her vitals, cleaned her scrapes and cuts, and bandaged her hands did they believe her. Once they got her home, her family hovered around her, almost afraid to let her out of their sight. Bethani fluffed the bed and brought her magazines to read, Blake kept vigil from a bedside chair, Granny Bert made her a vegetable smoothie, and Genny snuck in some Genny-doodle cookies.

  The weather turned overnight, and by morning, a fine dusting of snow lightened the landscape of The Sisters. The overpass out on the highway had just enough ice and sludge on it to proclaim school closed for the day. With most of the town shut down —snow, no matter how minuscule, did that to a small Southern community— and with her mind and body still aching, Madison opted not to go into work at the insurance agency that day. When Myrna Lewis called the office to check up on her and discovered it closed, she tracked Madison down at home and chewed her out, insisting that both their business reputations had been ruined. Myrna promised that by the time she was through, not a soul in town would hire In a Pinch Temporary Services.

  Myrna Lewis had to re-think her position when she and Dean returned early the next day, only to find the insurance office not only opened, but actually crowded. With the snow thawed and the weather already warming up nicely, people came out in droves to see the woman who had single-handedly caught and killed a murderer. Some pretended interest in insurance policies, while others came by to offer their appreciation, others to bring a casserole or a plate of brownies. Dolly Mac Crowder blatantly asked for a picture with the local hero. When Myrna tried to dock Madison’s pay for the missed day of work, her husband firmly overruled. He handed Madison a check for the full amount due, plus a fifty-dollar added bonus.

  Don Ngyen was released from jail and all charges dropped. By the time he returned to his family’s farm, not a single fighting rooster nor any evidence of their existence could be fou
nd. By the time Barbour Foods got wind of extracurricular activities taking place at the new Ngyen farm, there was no physical evidence to support the allegations. Ramona Gleason came to the farm that same day and offered to sell to the young Vietnamese. She wanted no part of the chicken industry and planned to move away.

  For at least the time being, the cock-fighting ring in The Sisters was broken, or at least warped. With no one to organize the fights and one less grower to provide birds, the gambling ring drifted to the next town, with the identity of ‘the boss’ still undiscovered. Considering the immediate threat removed, Brash deCordova moved the case to the back burner, so that he could concentrate on more pressing matters.

  Within days, life in The Sisters settled back to normal.

  According to Granny Bert, normal was, after all, only a setting on the dryer.

  Halfway into the ten-day assignment at her uncle’s car dealership, Madison met Granny Bert for a late lunch at New Beginnings. Genesis joined them for the meal, while Shilo Dawne took care of the other customers.

  “Shilo Dawne, I want to thank you for all you did last week.” Madison took a moment to thank the girl personally.

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “You called 9-1-1 about the bomb, and then you called Cutter.”

  “The minute he heard Miss Genny was heading out there to help you and that you were trapped, he left the fire and headed your way.”

  “He got there the same time as Brash did,” Madison confirmed. “Thank you for calling him.”