The Widows of Braxton County

by Jess McConkey

  Kate fished another sleeved photograph out of the box.

  It showed a couple—a man and a woman—seated in high-backed chairs. A younger man stood next to the seated man, and a small child, clothed in a short dress and holding a box, leaned against the woman’s leg. She had one arm protectively wrapped around the child’s shoulders. The woman wore a pained expression and looked as if she’d rather be somewhere else.

  Kate’s attention shifted to the seated man and was caught by his eyes. Two dark orbs set in a glowering face seemed to reach out to her from across space and time. The peace she’d always felt in this room dissipated, and she felt an oppressiveness descend on her as a shudder rippled her shoulders. She dropped the picture and unconsciously rubbed her palms on her dress.

  Doris gave her a quizzical look, picked up the photograph. “Pretty grim, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t like the old man,” Kate said uneasily. “Something about him creeps me out. Do you feel it, too?”

  “No.” Doris held up the picture and studied it closely. “There is something about his eyes, though. It’s probably due to the lighting that they used back then.”

  “What about the child? Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “I think it’s a boy. Small children were dressed alike back then no matter what the sex.”

  Doris squinted. “Did you notice the younger man?”

  “Not really.”

  Doris grabbed the first album and opened it to the first picture they’d seen—the old man with the three boys. She laid the second photograph next to it.

  “Look at this picture,” she said, tapping the plastic-sleeved photograph. “Then this one,” she continued, pointing to the album. “Do you see the resemblance?”

  Kate’s focus traveled from one face to the other, then back again. Same nose, same mouth. “Could be that they’re related.”

  “I think they’re the same man. I think it’s Joseph,” Doris said, her voice excited. “And if it is, then the adults in this older photo are Jacob and Hannah.”

  “And the little boy is Willie—Will’s great-great-grandfather.” Kate gave the picture closer attention. “The box he’s holding—it must be the music box from the parlor. I recognize the clasp.”

  Doris started to hand the picture back to Kate, but she shook her head. “Go ahead and put it back in the shoe box,” Kate said without touching it. “I’ll look at it later.”

  Doris returned it and replaced the lid. Once the picture was out of sight, Kate felt her anxiety vanish.

  “You know,” Doris said, rising to her feet, “Trudy has all these old family photographs displayed downstairs. I wonder why they’ve never framed that one? It’s got to be one of the earliest Krause family portraits.”

  “Maybe Trudy found it disturbing, too,” Kate said, standing.

  “I guess,” Doris answered thoughtfully. “All that family curse stuff does revolve around Jacob.”

  Kate shook her head. “I’ve heard the stories about that and about the hauntings, but no one has ever mentioned how Jacob was killed.”

  Doris shifted uncomfortably and kept her gaze on the floor. “He was stabbed.”

  Chapter 31

  Fall 2012, the Krause family farm

  By the time Doris and Kate came back down the stairs, the crowd was beginning to thin. For the next thirty minutes, Kate stood at the door, thanking everyone for their attendance and their show of sympathy.

  Once the last of the guests had left, Kate found Rose in the dining room. She crossed to the older woman and hugged her.

  “Thanks,” she said, moving a step back. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

  Rose blushed. “I’m glad I was here to help,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair from Kate’s face. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay for now. I have my moments, but I need to keep busy until I go back to work.”

  “When’s that?” Rose asked, picking up the last of the empty dishes and heading for the kitchen.

  “Next week,” Kate answered, following her.

  “Has Detective Shepherd talked to you again?”

  “No.”

  Rose grimaced. “I saw him lurking toward the back of the crowd at the cemetery. You are going to talk to an attorney, right?”

  “I guess.” She hesitated. “Don’t you think it’ll appear that I have something to hide?”

  “No,” Rose said vehemently. “You need someone who understands the system.”

  Kate lifted an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘let the sheriff handle it’?”

  Rose shoved her hands on her hips. “That was before we learned about the life insurance policy.”

  “Okay, I’ll see an attorney, but I’m not going to spend my days looking over my shoulder.” Kate tossed her head. “I don’t know how or why this happened, but I’m going to trust that the truth will come out.”

  A strange look crossed Rose’s face. “Not always,” she murmured, then swiftly changed the subject. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  Kate tugged on her bottom lip. “I’m not ready to go through Joe’s things, so I thought I’d clean out the back bedroom to give me more space.” Her expression grew uneasy. “Did Doris tell you that we think we found a picture of Jacob Krause in a box full of old photo albums?”

  “You must be mistaken,” Rose said quickly.

  “Doris is convinced. It’s a picture of a man and a woman with a teenage boy and a small child.”

  Rose muttered something, but Kate failed to catch it.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Rose answered with a shake of her head.

  “Would you like to see the picture?” Kate asked with an uncertain note in her voice. “To tell you the truth, I found the picture disconcerting.”

  Rose suddenly turned her back to Kate and began wiping off the already clean counters. “In what way?” she asked, her voice tense.

  Baffled by Rose’s reaction, Kate shrugged. “Something about the man in the picture gave me the chills.” She gave a nervous smile. “I’m being silly. It’s just an old photograph, and as Doris pointed out, people in them always look unhappy.”

  Rose faced Kate. “I have an idea. Why don’t I take the box home with me? I can go through them and figure out who some of the people are.”

  “That’s okay,” Kate said. “Let me get them organized first, then we can go through them.”

  Abruptly, Doris appeared in the doorway. “You’d better get in here,” she called, then spun on her heel.

  Rose and Kate followed her through the dining room into the parlor.

  The sight that met them had Kate stumbling to a stop.

  Gone was the catatonic woman they’d witnessed over the past few days. Trudy was spitting mad and stood facing off with her grandmother in the center of the room. She held the old music box clutched tightly to her chest.

  “Don’t you touch my things,” Trudy hissed.

  “What’s going on?” Kate asked as she rushed to Trudy’s side.

  “That woman,” Trudy replied through clenched jaws, “was walking around handling my treasures.”

  Kate shot her grandmother an angry look over her shoulder and received one of feigned innocence in return.

  “I don’t know what she’s talking about,” her grandmother replied blandly.

  “Here,” Kate began as she touched the music box, “let’s put this back on—”

  “No,” Trudy cried, stepping out of Kate’s reach. “I don’t trust her.” She held the music box tighter. “I’m going to my room.”

  Kate motioned Rose and Doris over.

  “Come on, Trudy,” Doris said gently, “I’ll help you.” Taking Trudy’s arm, she guided her out of the parlor. Rose followed, leaving Kate alone with her grandmother.

  “What were you doing?” Kate asked, not trying to hide her indignation.

  “Nothing,” her grandmother replied, strolling nonchalantly over to an armchair. With a sigh, she p
lopped into the chair. “This place is full of antiques, you know.”

  Kate rolled her eyes as she sank onto the couch. “To Trudy, they’re family heirlooms.”

  An avaricious light came into her grandmother’s eyes. “Family heirlooms that would bring a nice tidy sum at an estate sale.” She eyed Kate with speculation. “You are having a sale, aren’t you?”

  “Really, Gran?” she asked, not hiding the disgust in her voice. “The funeral was only a few hours ago. Do you think now is the time to talk about money?”

  Her grandmother ignored her question and settled back in the chair. “You’re going to have a hard time ahead of you,” she said with a click of her tongue. “A lot of decisions to be made, and obviously Trudy is in no shape to be of help.” Her fingers tapped the arm of the chair. “I think it would be best if I stayed here to advise you.”

  Kate’s face twisted with dismay. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I do,” her grandmother argued. “If I lived here, then I wouldn’t have to pay those worthless girls to come in every week. Think of the money I’d save.”

  “We’ve been over this,” Kate said in a weary voice. “You’re not moving in here.”

  Her grandmother gave an indignant sniff. “I don’t see why not. This is a big house. There’s plenty of room for me.”

  Kate shot to her feet and began to pace. “No. You have a life in Des Moines. You’d be leaving your friends—”

  Her grandmother cut her off with a wave of her hand. “I can make new friends.” Her attention roamed the room. “This is a nice place—far nicer than the cracker box I live in. We’ll have to clean out some of this clutter to make room for my things.”

  A vision of plastic Elvis statues lining the mantel made Kate shudder.

  “The sale I mentioned,” she continued, “would be a good way to do it. And it could bring in thousands.”

  Kate came to a halt in front of her grandmother. “It’s not mine to sell.”

  “Yes, it is. You inherit everything,” her grandmother replied quickly.

  Kate stared down at her. “What makes you say that?”

  Her grandmother shifted in the chair. “Oh, um, I think I overheard something this afternoon at the luncheon.”

  “At the luncheon?” Kate asked, crossing her arms.

  “Yes.” She nodded her head swiftly, her eyes not meeting Kate’s. “In the kitchen. That’s right . . . the kitchen. Some of Trudy’s friends were talking about how Joe left everything to you.”

  Kate dropped her arms. “Cut the crap, Gran,” she said, her temper rising. “The only time any sort of an inheritance was mentioned was the day the accountant was here. You were eavesdropping weren’t you?”

  Her grandmother jerked her chin in the air. “Is it my fault you were talking loud enough for me to hear you?” Her expression shifted and she leaned forward. “You’re going to be so much better off than your mother was when your father died. Kate, you’re going to be wealthy,” she said, awestruck. “Millions. My granddaughter is going to be a millionaire.”

  The greed on her grandmother’s face sickened her.

  “And you want to help me spend those millions, don’t you?” she asked in a deadly calm voice.

  “It’s only fair,” she said, dropping her voice. “I took you in when your mother died—”

  “And reminded me of it every day of my life,” Kate cried, her anger erupting. “Before I met Joe, I spent ninety percent of my free time stepping and fetching for you. I didn’t like it, but I did it because I thought I owed you.”

  “You do owe me,” her grandmother insisted.

  “No—no, I don’t. Since moving here, I received more kindness from strangers than I ever received from you. I’ve realized that what you did for me should’ve been done out of love and not with some price tag attached.” Kate took a sharp breath. “But that wasn’t the way it was, and as far as I’m concerned, that bill was paid in full a long time ago.”

  “The very idea,” her grandmother huffed, “that my only grandchild would talk to me like this.” She rose to her feet. “I don’t intend to stay here and listen.”

  “Good.” Kate glanced at the grandfather clock. “How long will it take you to pack? There’s a nice motel in Flint Rapids. While you’re getting your suitcases, I’ll call and make a reservation.”

  Her grandmother whirled on her, sputtering.

  Kate held up a hand before she could get the words out. “I’ll pay for two nights. That will give you time to call Mrs. Cutter and for her drive out to get you.” Turning on her heel, she began to march from the room. “After you pack your suitcases, I’ll find you a ride to the motel,” she called over her shoulder.

  For the first time in Kate’s life, her grandmother was speechless.

  Chapter 32

  Fall 2012, the Clement family farm

  The car turned into the drive as Rose was pulling the last of the dead annual flowers from her front flower bed. Rising to her feet, she smiled at the sight of Will Krause striding across her yard.

  “You’re out early,” she said, stripping off her gloves.

  Will gave her a cheeky grin. “I was in the neighborhood.” He looked at the pile of pulled flowers, then at Rose. “Shouldn’t you have someone do that for you?”

  Rose grimaced. “I’m not so old that I can’t take care of a few flower beds, young man.” She softened her words with a smile. “Though I will admit, it’s not as easy getting up and down as it used to be.” Her smile faded. “Seriously, Will, what brings you out this way?”

  He picked up one of the dried stems and plucked at the brown leaves. “I’m concerned about Kate. I don’t like the direction the investigation is taking. From what I hear, they seem to be zeroing in on her.”

  Rose pursed her lips. “I agree. Detective Shepherd was at the cemetery yesterday, and he’s been asking a lot of questions about Kate.” She glanced over to the porch. “Come on, let’s sit a spell,” she said, waving toward the house and two wicker chairs sitting by the front door. “Would you like coffee?” she asked, moving toward the house.

  “No, thank you,” he replied, settling into one of the chairs and stretching out his long legs.

  Rose eased herself into the chair next to him. “I’ve already talked to Annie about a lawyer for Kate, and she recommended Brown and Brown over in Flint Rapids. Darwin’s a fine man.” She squinted, looking off into the distance. “Kate’s had one shock after another recently, so I’m going to let things calm down a bit, then encourage her to go talk to him.”

  “I wouldn’t wait too long.”

  Rose turned her attention to Will. “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his chin. “Joe always had more than his share of enemies, and people can carry grudges for a long time. Maybe a fight with one of them that got out of hand?”

  “Ed Rodman?”

  “I’d say they’re looking at him just as hard as they are Kate. He doesn’t have an alibi either.” Will drew in his legs and leaned forward, dangling his hands over his knees. “One thing that puzzles me . . . What did Joe tell Trudy when he stumbled into the house that afternoon?”

  “From what Kate said—it all happened so fast, and Trudy was incoherent at the hospital.” Rose held out her hands helplessly. “Since then, due to the stroke, she’s barely been with it. I don’t know if they’ve even questioned her again.”

  Will sat back. “Doc did say that Detective Shepherd asked him about Trudy’s condition, but that’s it.”

  “Did he offer any more information than that?”

  Will shook his head.

  “The past repeating itself,” Rose murmured softly.

  He snorted in disgust. “Come on—don’t start with that crap.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “Kate found a box of old albums and individual photographs yesterday.”

  “So?”

  “I didn’t see it, but from the way she described it, one was of Jacob, J
oseph, Hannah, and Willie.” Rose plucked a piece of dried grass off the knee of her jeans. “She’s already asked a few questions, and now with this picture showing up . . .” Her voice trailed away as she focused on Will. “How much do you want her to know?”

  He stood and walked over to the porch railing and was silent for a moment. He leaned against the railing, looking out, then turned toward Rose. “Kate’s already heard enough about family curses and ghosts, and things are tough enough for her right now. Have you considered what it will mean to Kate if they don’t solve this case?”

  “I guess not.” Rose tugged on her bottom lip. “I’ve been too worried about the present to think about the future.”

  “Right—and everyone knows that Kate is under suspicion, so if the killer is never found—”

  “She’ll live the rest of her life with that hanging over her,” Rose said, cutting in.

  Will moved over to her. “Exactly. She could start drawing crazy comparisons about what happened then and now. It would only add fear and anxiety.”

  “So if she asks—” Rose began thoughtfully.

  He laid a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her. “Let the secrets stay buried.”

  Chapter 33

  Fall 2012, the Krause family farm

  When Kate entered the kitchen the next morning, she found Trudy awake and cooking at the stove. She was wearing one of her housedresses, her hair pulled back in a bun, and she appeared alert.

  Surprised at the change, Kate crossed to the counter. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” Trudy spit out. “I wondered if you were going to spend the whole day lollygagging around in bed.”

  Kate ignored the remark and poured a cup of coffee. She eyed the table. Three places were laid out.

  “Are you expecting someone for breakfast?” she asked, pointing at the table.

  Trudy rolled her eyes as she flipped a pancake. “Of course not.”