After a long hot shower and cup of tea, she relaxed watching the local news. The light on the answering machine was in her direct line of vision. The blinking was making her crazy. She punched the button to listen to the playback.
“Hey, Gracie, it’s Uncle Stan. Say, uh… I’d like to talk, uh… to you about those books. Maybe you can, uh… give me a call.” His speech was halting, and he sounded stressed.
“That call I will return,” she said out loud grabbing the handset. Then she looked at her watch. It was 10:15. Uncle Stan would either be still playing cards or in bed. She’d make a point of seeing him tomorrow and get some answers. She also needed to check on Beth and talk with the deputy investigating the robbery. Her head began a familiar throb. I need to just take things one at a time. Why didn’t things happen one at a time instead of in batches? That old saying about things happening in threes should have said things happen in fours or fives.
The ibuprofen bottle was on the kitchen counter, and she quickly downed four tablets to ward off a full-blown headache. She checked to make sure the kitchen door was locked and then settled in with the diary and clippings. There must be something funny about the investigation, or Uncle Stan wouldn’t have given her all of this information. Gracie reread the newspaper clippings and the police report. Everything looked so ordinary. There wasn’t anything that jumped out and shouted cover up or that the sheriff’s department had botched the investigation. She flipped the diary open to the October entries.
Oct. 4 – I’m going to have to talk to Mother. I don’t know how I can tell her. Maybe I’ll talk to Dad first.
Oct. 8 – Talked to Dad, but I couldn’t tell him everything. There’s no way I can talk to Mother. I don’t know what I’ll do. I wish I was dead. I wish I’d never believed him.
Gracie’s throat constricted at Charlotte’s pain and her prophetic statement. She drew her legs up and hugged herself. A list of questions flooded her mind. How much did Isabelle know? Who was the father? What had Uncle Stan and Aunt Shirley known? But the big question was still, why had Uncle Stan handed this to her?
Her racing mind would never settle down to let her sleep, so she made a trip to the medicine cabinet again. Looking at the pills in her hand, she almost put them back in the bottle. But she didn’t. The pills slid down easily with the glass of cold water. When had medication become such a routine? Migraines and panic attacks had all come after Michael’s death. It would be two years in August. Why couldn’t she hold it together? Maybe running another business was a mistake. Jim had been hesitant about the kennel. He loved dairy farming, but he’d agreed to sell the farm and be a partner in the new venture. It hadn’t been fair to him. He was only doing this to keep her happy. She should get a job where there was no responsibility. No pressure. Something mindless would be good. Life insurance and the sale of the farm had left her without the pressure of even having to work—at least for a while. Jim could get back to farming where he was truly happy. She could just get on with her life without so much drama and relying on Jim for everything. It was time for a real conversation with him. No emotional outbursts or demands. She was sick of her behavior, and so was everyone else. Her parents tiptoed around her, and probably everyone else did too. She huffed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Opening the medicine cabinet, she took the brown plastic container, unscrewed the lid, and dumped the remaining pills into the toilet. Staring at them floating around in the water, Gracie bit her bottom lip and flushed. It was time to get back to real life.
Chapter 16
Haley jumped in the back seat and sat on her red plaid blanket, while Gracie finished loading the front seat with the bank bag and her Lab tote. She tucked a grocery list under the visor strap.
“Sorry, girl. You need to stay home today. Too many errands, and it’s too hot in the car.”
Haley whined in disappointment, but her tail still wagged furiously.
“I know, but I’ll be back soon. You can play in the backyard.”
Haley jumped out and ran to the gate.
“Be good, and I’ll bring you a new bone.” Haley’s tail thumped heavily on the white vinyl fencing. Gracie gave Haley’s rump a scratch and opened the gate.
After dropping the bank bag in the night deposit slot, she turned onto Route 19A toward Warsaw to do her grocery shopping. The next priority was to spend a little time with Uncle Stan to get things sorted out. Then she’d talk to Jim.
Tops supermarket was bustling with harried moms and whiny kids, who wanted to be anywhere else but grocery shopping. Summer didn’t last long in Western New York, and good weather weekends were precious. No one wasted a minute of summer. Gracie hoped she could get through the aisles without running into anyone from Deer Creek. Of course, that was wishful thinking.
“Hi, Gracie.” It was Gloria Minders.
“Hi.” Gracie pretended to study the label on a jar of spaghetti sauce.
“The kennel has had quite a week.”
“Sure has.” Gracie grabbed another jar of sauce and stared at the list of ingredients. Why was she giving the silent treatment to her pastor’s wife? Where was the new Gracie Andersen she’d committed herself to last night? She turned and smiled at Gloria. “We’ll get through it.”
“We’re praying that things work out and that Beth is all right.”
“I talked with her mother this morning, and Beth is doing well. She’s home and on the mend. But more prayer is always appreciated.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s doing all right.” Gloria put six boxes of spaghetti in her cart. She grabbed several large jars of sauce and added them to the load.
“Looks like you’re planning on a big dinner.”
“Yes, it’s our turn to host the County Clergy’s Association dinner this week. I’m cooking. Midge is supplying the dessert.
“I guess you’ll be busy with that.” Gracie made an attempt to wheel her cart around Gloria’s.
Gloria moved her cart aside and then patted Gracie’s arm as she went past her.
“I will. Preachers always seem to have good appetites,” she laughed. “Have you found anyone to replace Beth yet? I’m sure you need help during this time of year.” Her face showed concern.
“We’re looking, but so far no applicants.”
“I might have some help for you.”
Gracie groaned inwardly. She didn’t want another ex-con on staff.
“I’m sorry, but probably not from your program. No offense,” she added quickly “We hired Joe on a trial basis. I don’t know if he’ll work out yet. I really need a person who has experience with dogs.”
“We’ve got people from all walks of life. I’m sure we’ve got some clients that have experience with animals. Second Chances will work with the employer to get more job training, if it’s needed.” Gloria’s mouth was pressed into a firm line, and her eyes shone with excitement.
“Let me send a couple of people over on Monday. Just talk to them and see if they’re a good fit.”
Gracie sighed. She didn’t need to hire any of them, so why fight?
“Sure, OK. Look at the posting we have on the Deer Creek Help Wanted website and see if you have any qualified people.” With any luck, she’d have a line of non-criminal applicants Monday morning, so the Second Chances people could be dismissed before an interview.
“Wonderful! I’ll have the counselors send their best people on Monday. You won’t regret this, Gracie.” Gloria pushed the shopping cart toward the checkout lines with unexpected speed.
“Thanks, Gloria.” Gracie shook her head and continued to tick items off her list as she hurried through the rest of the store. Fortunately, no one else appeared from Deer Creek, and the dreaded grocery shopping was finished.
She pressed her foot down on the accelerator as the SUV climbed Rock Glen Hill on Route 19 in record time. There was still a lot to do on her list. Flashing lights suddenly appeared in her rear view mirror, and she glanced at the speedometer.
“Just great,”
she said aloud.
She pulled over on the gravelly shoulder. The deputy put on his hat as he stepped out the patrol car with lights still flashing.
“Could I see your license and registration, ma’am?” He took off his dark sunglasses.
Gracie gasped in surprise to see that Deputy Stevens stood by her window. He was even better looking in the daylight. His uniform fit perfectly.
“Sure thing, deputy. Uh, remember me?”
He smiled in recognition.
“Sure do. Mrs. Andersen, right?”
“Right. Was I speeding, Deputy?” His eyes were a dark blue, and his arms were well-muscled. He must work out regularly.
“Well, I clocked you about 10 miles over the speed limit back there.”
She gulped. “Sorry about that. Not paying attention, I guess. You know, I haven’t seen a copy of the break-in report yet. Is there any progress?” She reached in the glove box to grab the registration and insurance card, hoping that they were there and not expired.
“It’s all finished, but no real leads. There was another break-in at Silver Lake, and some computer equipment was stolen, so we’re checking that one out too. Weren’t you going to pick up a copy?” The deputy quickly scanned the two cards Gracie handed to him.
“Yes, but things got crazy at the kennel, and I haven’t had a chance to get it. Could it be mailed to me?” She flashed her best repentant smile.
“Sure, I’ll see if Administration can get that out to you on Monday. Well, Mrs. Andersen, why don’t we forgo the ticket today, and you just make a promise to slow down?” His smile was amazingly attractive, and he sure did look good in that uniform.
Gracie swallowed hard. “Sure thing, Deputy Stevens. I appreciate that.”
“No problem. Just so you know we’re making sure a nightly patrol goes past your kennel. We’re keeping an eye on things. Just call us if you see or hear anything suspicious.”
Nodding, she rolled up the window while watching the deputy get into the patrol car in her rear view mirror. Her heart was beating like a drum, and she gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands steady. Was it the deputy or almost getting a ticket? Maybe a little of both. She wouldn’t mind if Deputy Stevens made the nightly patrol. Gracie mentally shook herself. It was the first time another man had entered her head since Michael’s death. Was she moving on or just lonely? The deputy touched the brim of his hat as he pulled around Gracie. She waved and then slid the gearshift into drive. She wasn’t sure if she liked the feeling she had just experienced, but, then again, she hadn’t gotten a ticket either. Things were looking up.
She dropped the groceries off at the house and turned back for town to see Uncle Stan. There was no answer when she tried calling him on her cell, but he might be on the back porch, enjoying a cold one or snoozing. His car was in the driveway when she pulled up. There was no answer to the doorbell and the newspaper lay in front of the door. She walked around to the backyard to check the porch, but there was no sign of him. Two empty brown bottles stood on the glass-topped, circular metal table, and the ABA Journal was on the chair. The screen door was unlocked, so Gracie stepped into the big country kitchen and called out. No answer. A greasy frying pan sat on a cold burner, and there was a little coffee left in the glass carafe under the coffee maker. She could hear the TV in the living room. Uncle Stan must be passed out in front of the TV again. She pushed the swinging door from the kitchen and stepped into the large sunlit dining room. The half-walls and white columns at the end of the dining room led to the foyer, which opened to the curved staircase opposite the living room. The announcers for the Yankees game were discussing a double play.
“Hey, Uncle Stan, are you awake? It’s Gracie.”
Gracie stopped short as she passed through the opening to the foyer. Her legs froze, and she couldn’t quite take in the scene in front of her. The familiar surroundings were suddenly foreign and surreal. The floor lurched and rose up to meet her. She grabbed at the large oak newel post at the end of the curved banister.
“Uncle Stan,” she groaned.
Stan lay at the bottom of the stairs; his eyes wide open as if he were surprised. His left leg was twisted back at an unnatural angle.
Gracie couldn’t get her breath, and her throat felt like it was closing up. She dropped to her knees, stretching her fingers toward the still form. She drew back her hand and ran outside.
Chapter 17
Gracie stood numbly with her parents, as the EMTs wheeled the sheet-draped form of Uncle Stan out to the ambulance. The only sound now was the pendulum clock in the hallway; the ticking was like a dripping faucet. The coroner made notes on his clipboard and cleared his throat to speak.
“What happened?” Tim barreled through the front door, slightly out of breath as his head swiveled back toward the ambulance.
“Well, it seems that your father-in-law took a bad tumble down the stairs here.” The coroner, Ralph Remington, pushed his reading glasses up onto his broad forehead and gazed impassively at Tim’s ashen face.
“Is he..?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s gone, Tim. Looks like he broke his neck and leg in the fall.” Ralph was not known for his bedside manner, but he had been the coroner for 30 years and had seen just about everything. From farm accidents, car accidents, suicides, and a few murders, Ralph had long ago developed a crusty shell that distanced him from viewing a victim as a real person.
Tim rubbed his forehead, “I knew his drinking would get him, but I thought his liver would go, not this.”
Bob Clark put his hand on his nephew-in-law’s shoulder. “Have you gotten a hold of Isabelle yet?”
“She’s on her way, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” Tim sat down heavily on a dining room chair and put his head in his hands. “Who found him?”
“I did,” Gracie’s voice quavered. “He was just lying there.” Gracie began to cry, and her mother quickly put an arm around her waist.
The ambulance was slowly pulling away from the curb. Ralph walked back into the house.
“Gracie, I need you to sign the report. Sorry.”
She quickly wiped tears from her eyes, trying to focus on the paper. She scribbled her name.
“Thanks.” Ralph shifted his weight and turned toward Tim. “You know, Tim, there’ll have to be an autopsy, so you and Isabelle call the hospital morgue tomorrow to see if it’s been done. We’ll try to push it through.”
“All right, I understand. Isabelle won’t like it though. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of alcohol in his system.”
“We’ll see. I know Stan sure did like to knock ‘em back.”
With that, he gathered the rest of his equipment and headed to his shabby black county-issued station wagon parked behind Gracie’s SUV.
Gracie found a clean tissue in her bag and blew her nose. She wasn’t sure that facing Isabelle and possibly creating another ugly scene was something she could handle. She really needed to get home; there was a lot to do in the kennel and around the house. Her resolve to control her emotions last night was quickly dissolving.
“I’d better get going. Tim, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe…” Her voice broke, and flashes of finding Michael in the hayfield under the tractor flashed through her mind.
“I think I’ll go with you,” Theresa said firmly. “Your dad can pick me up later. Let me drive.”
“I’ll stay here with Tim then.” Bob was equally as firm and hugged Gracie. Gracie nodded and handed the keys to her mother. Theresa gave Tim a quick hug and followed Gracie through the front door.
Exercising the dogs in the play yard helped Gracie regain some emotional control. Haley joined in the fun, and the motley crew of canines ran after balls, stuffed animals, and each other in the large grassy area, shaded by two silver maple trees. It was over all too soon, and the vision of Uncle Stan at the bottom of the stairs made her stomach lurch. Why hadn’t she stopped by sooner? He’d probably been drowning his sorrows again. He shouldn’t have been by himself. Maybe it
was time to show Mom all the stuff Uncle Stan had left her. The smell of homemade macaroni and cheese filled the kitchen.
“Mmmm good, Mom. How’d you know that would hit the spot?” she said a little too brightly. She had to try and keep it all light, or she’d really lose it.
“Comfort food is needed today. Your pantry is pretty well stocked right now, so I didn’t have to improvise.”
Gracie laughed. “I did do some shopping today.” The last time she’d made mac and cheese, she had to use cheese topping from a spray can. It had been an interesting dish with a peculiar texture. Her father pulled up just as they sat down to eat.
“Is there enough for me?” The screen door slammed behind him.
“A ton. You’re just in time, Dad.”
Her father said a quick blessing and her mother began dishing up the casserole. Gracie thought she’d have no appetite, but the food tasted good. Haley slept under the table, snoring contentedly.
“I think I’d better show you both all the stuff that Uncle Stan gave me. I won’t ever know now why he handed it to me, but maybe we can sort it out.” Gracie scraped back her chair and pulled out a gallon-sized zip-lock bag from the refrigerator.
“Expecting Maxwell Smart?” Her father was shaking his head.
“No, but I am expecting Isabelle. She came right into the house the other night and tried to take these back.”
“You watch way too much crime TV, my dear,” Theresa admonished her daughter.
“Maybe, but I’m not taking any chances.”
Theresa quickly cleared the table as Gracie spread out the clippings, death certificate, police report, and the diary.
“Oh, my! Stan gave you Charlotte’s diary?” Her mother’s voice suddenly cracked.
“I told you that he did. That’s why I wanted to hang on to all of this. She had some weird code going on in the diary, and I’m not sure who she’s talking about. And did you know she was pregnant?” This was the bombshell she’d been holding back.
Family Matters (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 1) Page 9
