by Hebby Roman
Graeme was the first to speak. “Mrs. Baker, is that you?”
Ben looked closer and realized the intruder was indeed, Irene Baker, the recently retired, high school English teacher.
“My, my, my,” she said with a wide grin and a shake of her head. “You boys just get handsomer every day. Mr. McAlister, did you complete your detention?”
Graeme stared at her briefly, and then answered, “Yes, ma’am, I did. Mr. Crouch has it documented.”
“That’s good, because I’d hate for you not to graduate with the rest of your class.”
“So, would I,” he humored her. “Ma’am, are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, I’m just a little tired. I thought I’d fix some tea.” She held up her cup, which Ben noticed was empty. “Would you boys care to join me?”
Ben hadn’t called yet to turn on the utilities, so there’d be no hot or cold drinks coming for a few days. He moved to stand beside her. “How about you let us take you for a hot cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely, and we’ll be able to discuss your college schedules, along with your majors.”
Ben helped her into the back seat of his SUV and closed the door. He turned to Charlie. “Head on back to the office and start checking to see if anyone has reported her missing.” As soon as his deputy pulled out onto the road, he said, “Graeme, what do you know about her since she retired from teaching?”
“Nothing, really. She came to the party the other day and spent some time with Bridey.”
Ben glanced at his watch. “It’s nine o’clock. I’ll take her with me to the office, fix her the tea I promised, and see what, if anything, Charlie’s found out.”
“Good,” Graeme agreed. “I’ll talk to Bridey and see if she can shed some light.”
“Thanks, just let me know.”
A tapping, against the rear window of the squad car, drew his attention. He leaned close.
“Mr. Hammond, I’m still waiting for my tea. Don’t make me send your name to the office for insubordination.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Straightening, he walked around the rear of his SUV, and angled a glance and a grin toward Graeme. “Talk to Bridey, will you? I’ve already spent enough time in detention.”
Graeme laughed out loud and said, “I’ll do what I can. Hang in there.”
With a thumbs up, Ben pulled onto McTiernan Road and headed to town.
He and Mrs. Baker were working on a second cup of mediocre tea, when Graeme ushered Bridey into the sheriff’s office. She went right over to the woman and said a few words, and then rejoined the two men.
“Ben, are you charging Irene with anything this evening?”
“I should charge her with breaking and entering, but . . .” His voice trailed off. Yes, he could charge her, but he really thought she belonged in the hospital for observation. There was something going on with her, either dementia or Alzheimer’s disease, because as they’d talked, she had no recollection of being at his house or that he hadn’t been one of her students. “Not this evening. What’d you have in mind?”
“I’d like to take her to the ranch, instead of her apartment at the assisted living facility, and let her get a good rest. Then, we’ll see how she feels in the morning.”
“You don’t think it better for Hake Jackson to see her now in the ER?”
“No, I think that might disorient her even more.” She glanced behind her, smiled, and said, “I’ll call her regular doctor to come see her this evening. Will that make you feel better?”
“I believe it’s more responsible, yes.”
“Good, be at the house for brunch tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ben wondered, not for the first time, just who was in charge here. He closed the door as the trio filed out to Graeme’s car, and shaking his head, he grinned. Wondering, in itself, was an exercise in futility. He knew as well as anyone in the county, the Irish sprite, with generations of Irish behind her, was and always would be in charge. So, tomorrow morning, he’d show up at Ben McTiernan Ranch for some of their cook’s biscuits and grits. It could be a win-win all the way around.
Chapter Five
A few days later, Ben parked in the horseshoe drive, in front of the house, at Ben McTiernan Ranch, right behind Dinah’s sporty little number. When she’d moved to Dallas, she’d made a few upgrades, like this car, a new hair color, and a butterfly tattoo. He couldn’t help but wonder, off-handedly, what other upgrades she might have made? And why was she here this morning?
His stomach growled, as he got out of the car, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast in order to thoroughly enjoy Vidalia’s cooking. His mouth watered. Brunch had been cancelled earlier in the week, due to the hospitalization of his alleged criminal. Bridey had called him yesterday afternoon to let him know the doc had released Irene into Bridey’s care, while they awaited the test results.
Hampton answered the door. “Morning, Sheriff. They’re waitin’ for you in the dining room.”
“Thanks.” He set his Stetson on the foyer table, and entered the room. The buffet was set up along one wall, with multiple choices and all the fixings. Bridey, Andrew, and Dinah were seated at the table, everyone he expected, except his suspect.
Bridey stood and greeted him with a hug. “Ben, it’s good to see you. Irene will be down shortly, but I wanted to talk to you first.”
“O-kay, what’s up?”
She waved her hand toward the buffet cabinet. “Go ahead and fix yourself a plate. I’ve asked Dinah to join us. Since she’s helping you sift through information, I thought it beneficial.”
He did as she suggested and took a seat at the table across from Dinah, and said, “Di, Andrew, good morning.” Andrew nodded and continued to eat, while Dinah smiled and winked. What, the hell, was that? He poured a cup of coffee, and turned to Bridey. “What’ve you got?”
“Hake Jackson thinks—”
“I thought she didn’t want to see the ER doc, what happened?”
This whole situation had the potential for turning on a dime, and Ben realized he should start cataloging the players if he didn’t want whiplash. He’d already tentatively tied Mrs. Irene Baker, retired school teacher, to his players in the Hard Luck Ranch story, but who else would he encounter?
“The other night, after we brought Irene back here, she began to feel light-headed and her heart was racing. We called her doctor, but he was out of town, so we took her to the ER. Hake was on duty, and he admitted her for tests.”
“That much I know, what else?”
“Well, she’s decided she likes the young whipper-snapper, and that’s something. Nothing is conclusive for a diagnosis, yet, there’s more testing to be done, but he’s fairly certain her dementia is Alzheimer’s. Also,” she took a sip of her coffee, and continued, “After talking with Dinah, the other day, I feel Irene may be able to help you answer some of your questions concerning your ranch and Bailey Harper.”
He glared at Dinah while speaking to Bridey. “I didn’t know Di had spoken to you.”
“I tried to tell you the other night, Ben,” Dinah quickly said. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
Bridey, ever the diplomat, interceded, “She simply asked if Andrew or I had known the Harpers back in the day, and yes, we did.” She glanced at her husband, and smiled. “We’ve known him practically since he came to McTiernan.”
“I used to help Warren Harper, his grandpa, plant and till his garden in exchange for a small amount of money. Those watermelons were the sweetest during the hot summer,” Andrew recalled. “The old man came across as a real hard-ass, so we, Moon and I, would sneak in through the back gate and take a melon on Saturdays. We’d set ‘em to cool in the creek. It took me years to realize he let us think we were stealing those melons. He knew it all the time.”
“I didn’t really know Bailey until high school,” Bridey said. “By then, he’d started developing a bad reputation.”
“Wait a minute,” Ben interrupted, �
��Who’s Moon?”
Andrew sat back in his chair and explained, “That was the nickname the folks in town gave Bailey in high school. He started playing dominoes with the guys who sat in front of the firehouse on Saturdays, and he got real good at the game ‘Moon’. They started calling him that and it stuck.”
“So, how did he get a bad rep?” Dinah asked. “I mean, we all went to school with bad boys or girls, but what did he do?”
Bridey appeared thoughtful, and then said, “Looking back on it, I don’t think he was so horrible, but for the time, he earned the label, Bad Moon. He cut class all the time, stood either outside the front door or in the halls, leaned against the wall with his hands shoved into his blue jean pockets. He wore a black leather jacket, even in the hot months, and his black hair was slicked back like Elvis’.
“I remember thinking him funny, and handsome, and dangerous. He was irreverent, and talked back to those in authority, and yet . . .”
“And yet, he was sweet, and kind, and gentle.” Irene came into the room, and sat at the table, when Ben pulled out a chair for her. “Nobody ever gave him credit for that. Not even his grandfather.”
“So, you knew him, Irene?” Ben asked.
“Oh, yes, I knew him.”
“Did you know him well? Were you good friends?” He kept his voice calm and non-threatening, so as to tread lightly over sensitive ground. He hadn’t known anyone who professed to actually knowing Old Man Harper, even his friends and pillars of the community, Bridey and Andrew Benning, had kept that nugget to themselves. “Can you tell me more about him?”
“I can, if you’re really interested. But why now?” She surveyed the room. “Sheriff Biggars didn’t ask me one question when Moon disappeared last year.”
“I can’t answer to that, but I’m interested now, since I bought the Harper place.” He really wanted to ask her why she’d broken into the house. It had been vacant for some time, after all, but he hoped, if he gave her a little lead, she’d eventually get there.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“Start wherever you’d like,” he said.
“Can I get you anything, Irene?” Bridey asked.
“Some of Vidalia’s strong coffee with that real cream would be nice.” She stood to rearrange her skirt, and sat back down, smoothing her hands down the printed cotton material. “You know that’s one of the things I miss when I have a stay in the hospital. Good coffee. Sanka.” She pointed her finger at Ben, as if he were responsible for the coffee served at County General. “That cup I had yesterday tasted like watered down Sanka. It’s disgraceful.”
Bridey set a fresh cup of coffee in front of Irene and placed the cream pitcher alongside.
After she fixed her coffee to her liking, Irene began her story.
“I remember the first day I saw him. It was a frigid day in early February 1960. I was at the cemetery with my mother, as she tended the family plots, when the hearse and another car pulled up for a funeral. She told me not to stare at the folks in their time of grief, but the boy, who was about my age, captured my attention.
“He was standing beside the man I knew as Mr. Warren, Sr., yet he seemed so alone. I asked mother who they were burying and she said it was Mr. Warren Jr. and his wife, the boy’s poppa and momma. Mother had to get something from the car and told me to stay put, she’d be back in a minute.
“I had recently lost my daddy, so I thought I knew what he was feeling. Something compelled me to walk over to stand beside him, to give him strength or comfort, who knows what really goes through a ten-year-old’s mind, but I took his hand. We stood there, together, while the preacher read from the Bible and said a prayer. We parted without saying a word that day, but then met up at school and, eventually, became best friends.”
Dinah sniffed, dabbed her eyes, and said, “Irene, that’s so sad, for both of you to have lost your parents so early in life. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s the way life is,” Irene answered. She sat there for a minute or two, repositioning the forks, knife, and spoons. She stirred her near empty cup and then said to Bridey, “I thought they were coming to take me for more tests. I hate it when people are late or go back on their word.”
“I don’t believe you have anything scheduled for today.”
“Yes, I do, and they’re late.” She stood and pushed her chair close to the table. When Ben rose from his chair, she motioned him to sit. “Young man, I appreciate that you want to raise your grade so you can graduate with your classmates, but your appeal won’t work. Coming over here to try to change my mind will not do it. You must do the work.”
He realized she had slipped from the present, almost as if a switch had been turned off, and smiled sadly. He wanted to hear more, but also realized he had to be patient. Any amount of force would be counter-productive.
Instead of pushing, he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Baker, I’ll remember that.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned and walked primly to the doorway. “I’m going to take a nap, now. Wake me for dinner?”
“Of course, dear.” After Irene had ascended the stairs, Bridey turned to Ben. “Thank you for being gentle with her. I’ve noticed, sometimes the slightest little thing will set her off or shut her down.”
“Well, sure.” He explained, “I haven’t had personal experience with Alzheimer’s patients, but I’ve read about the challenges with them and for them. Even being semi-normal—”
Dinah cleared her throat loudly and stared at him.
“I said, semi-normal, if you were listening.” He gave her an irritated look, and continued, “I get pissed, too, if I feel like I’m being badgered.”
“We’ve all been there,” Andrew agreed. “What’s come up that has you two asking questions. Why are you suddenly interested in the Harper case?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Does it have something to do with the Hard Luck Ranch?”
“Yes, turns out there’s a lot of Harper history stored in the house, and I haven’t had the time to go through the barn.”
“So, are you reopening the case about Moon?”
“It’s actually been open all this time. But Biggars said he’d exhausted all possible leads, and I’ve had no reason to doubt him until now. The problem is finding the time to go through the case file, while not neglecting current duties.” The sound of a man’s boots scuffing across the wooden entryway and stopping at the dining room door, drew his attention. He glanced up to see Elliott leaning against the door jam, hands in his front pockets.
“I’ll help you sift through the information.”
“I thought you were heading back to Dallas.”
“I’ve finished what I was working on at Southern Star, and have no cases pending, right now, at the office. I can hang around and help you out.” He sauntered over to the coffee pot sitting on the buffet, poured himself a cup, and joined them at the table. “So, Ben, what’ve you got?”
* * *
Ben removed the empty food tray from the cell, balanced it in his left hand, while he turned the key in the lock.
The man inside the cell paced back and forth. “Sheriff, when am I getting out of here?”
“Not for a while,” he answered. “It’s Sunday and the judge won’t be in until tomorrow morning.”
“But I got things to do. I don’t have time to sit here on my thumbs and wait for some faggity old man to drag his ass out of bed.”
“You should have thought of that before you tried to tear up the bar last night.” He opened the door between the cells and the front office and glanced over his shoulder, adding, “Oh, and one more thing . . .”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to try sitting on the mattress instead of your thumbs. It’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
“Screw you!”
“Suit yourself.” Ben chuckled as he closed the door to any further verbal assault, and found Elliott waiting for him in front of his desk. He set the tray of dirty dishes to the side and s
hook hands with him.
“Counselor, I thought I’d see you later on this afternoon or tomorrow.”
“That had been my plan, but I stopped at the Dine Inn for some coffee and conversation.”
“I usually do that on Mondays.”
“You should’ve been there this morning before church, you could’ve signed autographs.”
“No kidding?” he chuckled. Small town life never ceased to amaze him.
“All I heard was how our illustrious sheriff man-handled a rowdy and hauled him off to jail in handcuffs.”
“I guess that could be considered gossip-worthy. It’s been months since we’ve had any real excitement around here.” He glanced toward the restroom when the door opened.
“By the way,” Elliott said. “I found an old acquaintance out front, when I drove up.”
“Hey, partner!” Neville Biggars’ voice boomed as he greeted, Ben, and then smothered him in a bear hug. “What’s going on?”
“Just enough to keep me off the streets and out of trouble,” Ben quipped.
The older man hooted and clapped Ben on the back. Ben had forgotten how exuberant his former boss had been and obviously still was.
The former sheriff sat in the chair opposite Elliott, and said, “This boy’s as honest as the day is long, completely incorruptible.”
“I believe that,” Elliott agreed. “McTiernan’s lucky to have him.”
Ben nodded in the direction of the two men. He appreciated the sentiment from his friend, but seriously wondered about it from his former boss. He rarely believed in coincidence, and the timing of the man’s visit was nothing if not coincidental.
“Neville, I thought you were out exploring parts unknown. What brings you back here?”
“Well, I heard from some of my friends at county that the old Harper place was going to be put up for sale. I’ve been homesick lately and thinking it might be time to settle down again.” He studied his palms, and then looked at Ben. “I came back to see if anything had been done with it yet, and imagine my surprise, when I found out this morning you bought it for a song.”
