“Well, both first and second husbands were involved, but I always did the books.” She folded her hands on the table. “It’s always a gamble. Will it rain? Are grain and livestock prices headed up or down? Should I sell now or later? I’ve made a lot of money and I’ve lost a lot of money.”
Kate leaned back in her chair. “The life insurance policy came as a big shock, too.”
Rose lifted one shoulder. “It’s not unusual. Using a life insurance policy to pay off outstanding debts at the time of death is one way to ensure that farms stay in the family. The heirs aren’t forced to sell in order to meet expenses.”
“What do you think I should do, Rose?”
“I think you should sit tight. Get through the next few days, the next few months. You’ve got time before the bank’s going to be knocking at the door.”
“I’ve made one decision,” Kate said with determination. “One way or the other, I’m backing out of the deal with Turner Farms.”
Rose gave her a questioning look, and started to open her mouth, but Kate spoke first. “I would’ve wanted to pull the plug even if you weren’t my friend.”
Rose dropped her gaze for a moment, then looked back up at Kate.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased that I want to stop the hog confinement operation?”
“Yes—yes, of course I am, but there’s something else.” She took a deep breath. “Kate, you didn’t know about the life insurance, right?”
“No. I just told you how shocked I was when Mr. Wood explained it to me.” Kate was puzzled. “Why?” She thought for a moment. “Wait a second, you don’t think—”
“That the sheriff might think it’s a good motive for murder?” She stretched her hand across the table and clasped Kate’s. “I believe in you completely, but I don’t count. The sheriff does. It’s a lot of money, Kate, and people have been killed for less.” She gave her hand a squeeze. “To be on the safe side—I want you to hire an attorney.”
It was ridiculous, Kate thought later, but Rose’s words were almost prophetic. Detective Shepherd called and asked to stop by the farm. Reluctantly, Kate agreed.
After she’d greeted the detective, she led him into the parlor. She tried to gauge by his manner if he suspected her in any way, but he seemed friendly and pleasant. Much more so than when he was drilling her with questions at the hospital.
“I won’t stay long,” he said amiably. “I wanted to stop by and let you know that the investigation is ongoing, and ask you to sign a few forms.”
He handed her a stack of papers.
“What kind of forms?”
“It’s routine. They’re for the release of information. You know—bank records, phone records—that type of thing. We need to get a good picture of what was going on in your husband’s life right before his death.”
Kate hesitated, staring at the papers in her hand, and the detective gave her a sharp look.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“I don’t know—I hate the idea of people, even your department, digging around in our personal lives.”
“You want your husband’s murderer brought to justice, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she replied, flipping through the papers, stopping at the last one. It was for Dr. Mike.
“Why do you want to know about our marriage counseling?”
“Joe might have indicated during one of the sessions that he was concerned for his safety. If he did, we need to know.”
Kate shook her head. “Any concerns that he might have had were never discussed.”
Detective Shepherd removed the notebook from his pocket and scanned through it. “Joe had an individual appointment last week. You weren’t there. You don’t know what he told the doctor.”
Staring down at the papers, Kate remembered how hard it had been for Joe to discuss his childhood. It had been intensely private and personal, and the last thing he’d want would be for strangers to learn of it.
Kate grabbed a pen and, placing the forms on an end table, signed all but the one for Dr. Mike.
“Here,” she said, handing them back. “I signed everything but the last one. I’m not giving permission for our therapist. Joe never once mentioned any danger to me, and I doubt that he said anything to Dr. Mike.”
Detective Shepherd took the forms. “We can get a warrant you know.”
With a wave of her hand, Kate pointed him toward the front door. “Then I guess that’s what you’ll do.”
After Detective Shepherd left, Kate felt as if the house was crowding in on her. Trudy was in her room, and who knew or cared where Gran was. She grabbed Topaz and headed to the apple orchard.
While sitting under one of the trees, she played with the kitten.
She’d made a mistake. She realized that now. She should’ve told them about the letter and the person she’d thought she’d seen in the orchard that day. It was too late now. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the victim’s family were the prime suspects. Why hadn’t she considered they would take a long, hard look at her?
“Guess I wasn’t thinking,” she muttered to the kitten.
If she spoke up now about Ed and the figure in the orchard, it would look like she was trying to cast suspicion on someone else.
She picked up the kitten and nuzzled it with her cheek. “If you could only talk, Topaz,” she whispered, “you’d tell them I was with you the whole time.”
“Why are you worried about an alibi?”
Startled, Kate looked up to see Will standing over her. She jumped to her feet.
“You frightened me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, with a glance toward the house. “I came around the side. I didn’t want to upset Trudy.” He did a slow turn. “So this is where Willie was born?”
“You’ve never seen the place?”
“No. No one from my side of the family has set foot on this land since Willie left after Jacob’s death.”
“What happened to him?”
“He grew up, became a doctor—practiced medicine over by Montgomery—married, had kids.” Will smiled. “And by all accounts, he had a very long, happy life. He’s buried out in the cemetery here.”
“In the Krause plot?”
“Ah no. Our family has a plot in a different part of the cemetery.”
“What happened to his mother?”
“Hannah?” Will picked up a dried leaf and crumbled it. “Not too much was ever said about her.” He dropped the shredded pieces. “Enough about ancient history. I’m sorry for your loss, Kate.”
“Thanks.”
“I won’t lie—I didn’t always agree with Joe, but I’ve always believed that underneath all that Krause bluster, he was a good man,” he said in a somber voice. “And I know he was proud of you.”
“Me?”
“You sound surprised, but I know he’d bragged about you around town. Always telling people about how pretty and smart you are.”
“He stopped saying those things to me after we were married,” Kate said with regret.
“It was the way he was raised, Kate. I doubt he heard many compliments growing up.”
“No, he didn’t.” Kate’s voice thickened. “You know we were separated, don’t you?” She gave a brittle laugh. “What am I saying? Sure you did—everyone in town’s been talking about it.”
“I also heard that Joe was determined to get you back.”
“We were trying to work things out.” She swallowed hard. “I thought we were making progress, but I’ll never know now.”
“I’m sorry.”
Kate sniffed. “You don’t know a good criminal lawyer, do you?”
“Hey, what I said about an alibi was inappropriate and I apologize. You surely don’t need a lawyer,” he said vehemently.
“I might. They haven’t come out and accused me yet, but I think they consider me a ‘person of interest.’ And after today, I feel like I’m shooting up their list fast.”
Will scuffed the ground with
the toe of his boot. “I had heard they’ve been asking questions about you and Joe. I know they’ve talked to Doc.”
“Great,” Kate declared. “Now I’m going to lose my job.”
“No, you won’t. Doc didn’t appreciate the questions and gave them an earful. He told them that you were the best thing that had ever happened to Joe.”
She clutched Topaz. “I was at the office, but I was alone and can’t prove what time I left.”
“Listen—they’ve been asking questions about Ed Rodman, too. The story’s going around that he doesn’t have an alibi either.”
“Do you think he might have killed Joe?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“I’d hate to think someone I know might be a killer, but Ed does have a temper and he doesn’t like to be pushed.”
“And Joe was determined to make him move his fence.”
Will shook his head. “They might have argued and things got out of hand.” He looked at her intently. “If you do feel like you’re the focus of their investigation, maybe you should get a lawyer.”
She’d worked so hard to gain everyone’s respect and now they were beginning to turn against her. Talking about her behind her back, suspecting her of a terrible thing. The strength she’d tried to muster since Joe’s death leached out of her.
“That’s what Rose advised.” Kate looked away in dismay. “But I don’t know if it matters what happens to me.”
Will stepped toward her. “You don’t mean that.”
“Look at this, Will.” She swept an arm toward the fields that lay beyond the orchard. “Supposedly, this might be mine, but it’s only land. I’d rather have my husband.”
“I’m sure you would and I know the future seems bleak without him, but you’ll get through this.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but I don’t know if I can.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Kate,” he said harshly. “I thought you had more guts than that.”
“I don’t care what you think,” she shot back.
“Yes, you do. I’ve watched you and you care what everyone thinks . . . too much so. You’ve worked overtime trying to please everyone but yourself.”
“That’s not true,” she said, the anger showing in her voice.
“It has been. You did whatever you were told and now you’re ready to give up and let the sheriff think you killed your husband.”
“That’s not fair,” she exclaimed.
Will glared at her. “But it would be fair to go to prison for something that you didn’t do?”
“What do you want me to do? Take out an ad proclaiming my innocence?” she asked sarcastically.
“No!” he cried. “I expect you to fight back, be smart, and hire the best damn attorney you can find!”
He spun on his heel and marched away.
Holding the kitten, Kate paced back and forth underneath the apple tree. Every nerve in her body tingled as panic tore at her. It’s too much. Dropping to her knees, she felt as if she were breaking into a thousand little pieces and could never glue them back together.
She closed her eyes and a picture of Essie’s House and the women who’d sought refuge there flashed in her mind. Several of them had shown up with only their kids and the clothes on their backs, yet they were determined to make a new and better life for themselves.
She heard a rustling above her, and a shower of red and gold leaves spread in a blanket over and around her. A soft breeze lifted her hair as if in a silent benediction, and suddenly, she felt surrounded by a warm presence. Peace flowed through her.
Staring aimlessly at the horizon, she thought of those who were standing with her. They had faith in her, yet she persisted in believing she was weak, accepting that she was worthless.
Holding Topaz tightly to her chest, Kate scrambled to her feet.
No more. If the women at Essie’s House could fight for a new life, then so can I.
Chapter 30
Fall 2012, Braxton County, Iowa
Another fifteen minutes and it would be finished. Kate stared at Joe’s polished oak casket. She couldn’t believe that the waxlike figure lying inside it was Joe. The family visitation last night had been an emotional wringer, and now she sat stiffly at his graveside waiting for the minister to say his last words. The air around her was heavy with the mixed scents of all the floral memorials—and the roses on Joe’s casket. There had been an arrangement of them on her mother’s casket, too. She would never see red roses again without thinking of death.
She turned her attention to the bright sky above them. It was wrong. The heavens should be boiling with storm clouds. Nature should be as indignant as Kate was over the loss of this man.
The sound of shuffling brought Kate’s focus back as the minister bent to murmur his final words of comfort, then he moved on to Trudy, sitting next to her. She waited, dry-eyed and detached, as Joe’s neighbors and friends followed him. Finally, the last of the condolences had been expressed and it was time to return to the farm and the luncheon that Trudy’s church ladies had prepared.
When they arrived in the limousine provided by the funeral home, Agnes and two other women Kate didn’t recognize rushed the car. They hustled Trudy out, patting and cooing over her as they escorted her to the house. Agnes paused in her comforting long enough to shoot Kate a disgruntled look over her shoulder.
Kate walked past the rows of tables and chairs they’d set up in the yard, and by the time she’d reached the house, they’d propped Trudy up like a life-sized doll in an armchair in the parlor. Kate left Gran with her and proceeded to the kitchen. As she entered, ten pairs of eyes turned toward her and all chatting ceased.
She lifted her chin a notch and returned their stares. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
They resumed their bustling about the kitchen, ignoring her.
This was her house, and she was standing her ground. She cleared her throat and repeated her question. “Do you need help?”
One of the women separated from the group and shoved a plate of sandwiches into Kate’s hands. “Put these in the dining room.”
Kate did as she was told, and was amazed to see the amount of food the women had laid out. Sandwiches, pickles, desserts, and salads of every kind and description covered the table. At a loss for what to do, she wandered between the dining room and parlor, accepting more condolences, until she felt the crowded house pressing in on her. She fled to the back bedroom upstairs.
Kicking off her shoes, she sat on the bed and gazed around the room. With her hands dangling at her sides, she tapped one foot on the floor and wondered what to do with herself now. She hadn’t worried about filling her time during the last few days—just getting out of bed and dealing with all the arrangements had been enough of a challenge. But now, with the funeral over, she needed to do something. Trudy couldn’t live out here alone, and for now, out of respect for Joe’s memory, Kate had to stay.
She rose and walked to the window. Men stood over by the barn chatting. Fallen leaves covered the ground beneath the old apple trees. A few short months ago, she’d come to this place with such dreams and plans. Gone now, she thought, fingering one of the lace curtains. Bitterness began to creep into her heart, but she tamped it down. No, she’d sworn to make a new life, and maybe it wouldn’t be the one she’d planned, but it could still be worthwhile.
One thing at a time, she thought, turning away from the window and looking about the room again.
She’d always liked this room. Even with all its clutter, there was a sense of peace here that the other rooms lacked. She’d start her new life with a small step: make this room her own. And the first thing would be to clear out all these boxes.
Kate crossed the room and, as she bent to rummage through one of them, a sudden noise came from behind her, made her twirl around. One of the large boxes had tipped over.
“What are you doing hiding out up here?” Doris said, appearing in the doorway.
Kate looked from the box
to Doris. “I needed a little time alone.” She gave a rueful smile. “And I was tired of the church ladies giving me dirty looks.”
Doris walked over to the books scattered across the floor. “Don’t worry about them,” she said, picking up one of the books. “If it makes you feel better, Agnes isn’t much ahead of you in popularity.” Her lips twisted in a sneer. “Somehow her unkind speculations about Joe got around. So she’s been working her butt off to get back in their good graces.”
Kate allowed herself a small smirk. “That would be thanks to Rose.”
“Hey, these are old photo albums,” Doris said as she flipped open the book in her hand.
“Let me see,” Kate said, joining her.
Doris held out the album to her and, kneeling on the floor, picked up another one.
Kate opened the album and began to carefully turn the heavy black pages. Her nose wrinkled at the musty smell they emanated. Sitting down next to Doris, she showed her one of the pages.
“This looks like it was taken here,” she said, pointing to one of the pictures.
The picture was of an old man standing on the front porch. Flanking him were two young boys and a teenager.
Doris took the album and studied the picture. “Those two boys are twins.” Her eyes widened. “Joe’s grandfather had half brothers, so if that’s who this is, then the teenager is his grandfather.” She lightly tapped the picture. “And I’d bet anything that this old man scowling at the camera is Joseph.”
“That’s the one who accused Rose’s great-grandfather of mishandling his father’s murder, right?”
“Yeah.” Doris shuddered. “He doesn’t look like someone I’d want to cross.”
Kate pulled the box closer and began removing the rest of its contents. “I wonder how far back these go?” she asked, browsing through them, then stacking them in a pile next to her. “From the background, I’m assuming that a lot of these pictures were taken here. No names, though.”
“Look at this,” Doris said, removing a shoe box from the bottom—the last of the carton’s contents. “Wonder what’s in here?” She opened it and found more pictures. These were in plastic sleeves and appeared to be printed on heavy cardstock. Turning one over, she read the back, “ ‘From the Photographic Studio of R. G. Strauss and Son, Flint Rapids, Iowa.’ ” She reversed the photo. “Look at the way they’re dressed. Late 1800s, I’d say.”
The Widows of Braxton County Page 18
