That reasoning worked until Dina didn’t make it to church on Sunday morning.
Dina hadn’t missed church in all twenty-two years of her life.
22
The Dust Bowl years were hard on the Gaynor family. Slowly Elliott was forced to sell off small pieces of their holding. They held on tight to the mercantile during the dark days of World War II when their second son, James, was held prisoner in a Japanese POW camp. When news of James’ survival of the Rattan Death March reached the couple, Geraldine suffered a stroke and never fully recovered. James Gaynor returned to Grace Gulch to heal and vowed never to leave Oklahoma again.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Sunday, September 24
Dina’s absence didn’t register until after church. We arrived late. Junior had kept me awake for a good deal of the night; I tossed and turned about as often as he did. Audie turned off the alarm and let me sleep, and we made it just in time for the worship service. The organist was already playing the prelude when we walked in.
I spotted Dad in his usual space at the end of the third row, right next to the stained glass portrayal of Jesus leading a flock of sheep. I didn’t spot Dina, but no surprise there. My sister had outgrown the need to sit with family at services. We slipped in at the back, and Junior kicked up a fuss. Spasms wrinkled across my abdomen off and on to the point where I could scarcely concentrate on Pastor Waldberg’s sermon.
He did grab my attention at the beginning. He plunked a jar of honey on the podium and challenged the children to listen for what was sweeter than honey. One irrepressible waif called out “chocolate!” and we broke into laughter.
The pastor preached from Psalm 19 about how God’s word was more precious than silver or gold and sweeter than honey. Did we hoard it in our hearts like we might lock away a valuable coin? Did we consume it at every opportunity and use it to sweeten our everyday life? In spite of the departure from his usual hellfire and brimstone style, he still managed to pile on the guilt.
Maybe the Holy Spirit was nudging me. I hadn’t cracked my Bible open that day in my rush to get ready for church. Soft, pale pink leather covered the “Mother’s Bible” that Audie gave me for my birthday. I loved the look, feel, and smell of this Bible , but I needed to do more than open it on Sunday mornings.
Audie nodded in agreement with every statement. The man I had married loved God’s word. He hoarded it like precious silver, tucking away large chunks in the recesses of his mind to pour out like honey at appropriate moments. What a man. I rested my head on his shoulder. He must have inherited that habit from his mother. Gilda kept busy looking up cross references and flipping pages in her Bible.
My mind wandered. Dustin’s business would expand even more with the “product placement” this morning. The jar on display had the telltale floral arbor logo. Of course the pastor didn’t intend to advertise the business, but people would notice. My eyes scanned the congregation. Jessie Gaynor, looking very different out of a baker’s uniform, sat by herself, her gaze focused on the floor. I should visit her; she must be having a difficult time after Ham’s arrest. I spotted Noah’s sweatered back and glanced around for Dina. I didn’t see her.
Noah had started attending Word of Faith Fellowship before he asked Dina out—part of the reason Dad agreed to them dating in the first place. Single Christian men were not plentiful in Grace Gulch. His apparent faith seemed to contradict his drug habit, if he did indeed use drugs. Well, I knew of Christian alcoholics battling their addiction, so I guess Christian druggies shouldn’t surprise me. God was in the restoration miracle business, after all.
But if Dina wasn’t with Dad or Noah, where was she? Nursery duty?
People around me bowed their heads and the pianist began playing “Wonderful Words of Life.” The pastor had moved to the invitation while my thoughts had wandered. I spent a couple of minutes in quiet prayer. Lord, teach me to love Your word more. Let me speak of it to Junior while we are walking and sitting and all those other things Moses told the Israelites in Deuteronomy. Audie would raise our child to love God’s Word, but I shared that responsibility.
As soon as the pastor closed in prayer, I walked in Dad’s direction. Before I could get my question out, he spoke first. “Have you seen Dina?”
I blinked. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Dad rubbed at his eyes, a sure sign he was worried. “She didn’t spend the night with you?”
“No.” Unformed fears rose in my throat. “Did she say she would?”
Dad flung his hands in an open, helpless gesture. “She said she was researching a story for the paper, and after she finished, she was going to stop by and see you.”
“So when she didn’t come home, you assumed she had crashed at my place.” It had happened before. “But I haven’t seen her since Friday afternoon.” Surely she didn’t spend the night with. . .
“Has anyone heard from Dina?” Noah joined our circle. “I missed her this morning.” His usual sunglasses weren’t in evidence. I wanted to peer into his eyes to see what they might reveal, but worry about Dina distracted me.
If none of us had seen her. . .
Last of all, Jenna and Audie joined us. Enid had engaged Gilda in a conversation. “Ready for Sunday dinner?”
I thought of the apple crisp Gilda baked yesterday, which I accepted with gratitude. After the week I’d had, I would have brought a bakery cake. Neither one sounded good in light of Dina’s absence.
“Have you seen Dina?” I directed my question to Jenna.
She looked perplexed. “Not since yesterday. She told me about the story you had given her, and she seemed pretty excited.”
“Did she say where she was going?” If Jenna resented the interrogation, she didn’t let on.
“She mentioned going out to the Kirkendall farm—the Murks, I mean. To see if Dustin would let her wander around and take pictures.”
Noah nodded his head in agreement. “That’s where she was headed when we parted ways yesterday. I had my Saturday masters class so I couldn’t go with her, but I expected her to call again later.”
“When did you leave her?” I asked Noah.
“About half past two.”
“And did she call? When?” I fired the questions.
“We talked by phone a little before three.” Jenna realized something was amiss, and she frowned. “What’s happened?”
“No one has heard from her since that phone call.” Dad looked at each of us for confirmation. “She’s missing.”
Junior did a flip flop, and I hugged my abdomen with my arms, grateful that he couldn’t disappear and cause me the same kind of worry.
“Get in the car,” Audie told me. “We’re heading to the Murks’.”
Our normal Sunday dinner routine jumped to standby while the Wilde family reacted. Overreacted? I hoped so. I kept hoping Dina would buzz me or pop in from a side room where she had been helping out and tease us all about our worry. Enid saw our quiet march out the door and raised a thin eyebrow at me. I stopped long enough to tell her what was happening in a few, terse words.
“I’ll be praying.”
I appreciated friends like that, someone who didn’t need a lengthy explanation.
Jenna climbed in the car with Dad. I wondered if she had told him about her past relationship with Brad yet. After raising Dina from infancy, how would he feel to have his position usurped at this late date?
Audie outlined the situation to Gilda as we headed out of town. I only half-listened. My internal ear tuned into a different channel. Had Dina done something reckless because she believed I had given up on the investigation? Had the person who sent the threat targeted Dina instead of me, because she continued asking questions? Not fair, my mind shouted at God, at anyone who was listening. I had done what the blackmailer had asked. I hadn’t asked any more questions. So why. . .?
Of course an accident or illness or something like that could have caused Dina’s disappearance, but I doubted it.
If she was ill, she would have called. If she had been in an accident, someone would have called Dad as the next of kin. No, since we hadn’t heard from Dina, that meant she couldn’t call. That suggested foul play or—death.
“I can’t believe that nice couple is involved with anything illegal.” Gilda’s clipped tones sounded shocked. “They were so nice when we were out there the other day.”
They had impressed me that way as well. Nothing to hide. But they own a hundred-acre farm, which they don’t cultivate. They wouldn’t know the lay of the land as well as a farmer would—as well as Larry Grace did when visiting Bob in the early part of the twentieth century.
What about the young Kirkendall boy in the ’60s? X marks the spot. I shook my head. He would have known every hidey hole but no kid would keep quiet about buried treasure. Whatever he had buried mattered only to him and maybe his best friend.
So how should we approach the Murks? “We’ll just ask if Dina came out yesterday about the story. A perfectly harmless question.”
Audie snorted. “Harmless until the entire Wilde brigade pulls in. They’ll know something is up. If all we wanted was an answer to a simple question, we would call.”
Stop asking questions. If the Murks had made the threat. . . I shivered, but stuck my chin out. Someone somewhere had done something to Dina even after I stopped asking questions.
The Murks wouldn’t do anything to me, not with my entire family about me.
“It’s looking more and more like we’ve identified one of the clues on the mural.” Audie said. “There are too many connections to Dustin’s honey trade to dismiss.”
“Maybe she’ll let us poke around. See if we can figure out the next clue.” I tried to look on the positive side. “Even if the mural is talking about her beehives, it doesn’t mean she’s involved. It just means she may be able to point us in the right direction.”
“Did any of the verses mention a specific flower or fruit? I believe Mrs. Murk harvests different kinds of honey.” Gilda spoke up. “I asked the pastor about the honey he displayed on the podium today. I noticed it was a different flavor than the wildflower honey that Mrs. Murk usually sells. It was berry medley honey.”
Flavored honey? I supposed honey gathered from different flowers would taste different--kind of like Dina with her hair color du jour. An acute longing for my sister swept over me, and I held back a sob. Oh, God, let Dina be safe.
Audie reached for me. We ran over a pothole and he put his hand back where it belonged, on the steering wheel. I had turned my cell phone off during church, but now, I checked for messages in case Dina had called—nothing. No one needed to talk with me badly enough to interrupt worship, not even with a buzzer.
Was it possible that the unexpected disappearances of Brad and Dina and Finella’s murder were completely unrelated? Coincidences do happen.
I didn’t believe it for a minute.
23
James Gaynor did sneak away from Grace Gulch long enough to complete a degree in business at OU and fall in love with Mary McGregor. Mary was as Scots as her name implies, and they gave their two children Gaelic names: their daughter Jessica, promptly shortened to Jessie, and their son, Hamish, known as “Ham.”
James continued to run the 5-and-10. His sister Edna married the son of the local banker, Ned Reiner, and opened an ice cream emporium across the street from the store. When Ham Gaynor expressed no interest in continuing the family business, his cousin Izzie Reiner bought it from him and changed it into a restaurant, The Gulch, which quickly became known county-wide for its unique buffalo dishes and delicious cuisine.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Sunday, September 24
The Kirkendall place was taking a Sunday afternoon nap. I caught no sign of Dustin roaming the fields in search of perfect honeycombs. Bees buzzed around the white squares, and I rubbed my wrist reflexively. Only a small red spot remained where the bee had found me the other day. Perhaps the word of God was like that, too. Sweeter than honey to the tongue, but it could sting when applied. No sounds rang out from the smithy. I would have guessed that the Murks had gone to church, except both their cars were in the driveway.
I crawled out of the car, sweating with each inch. My favorite maternity dress had long sleeves.
Dustin came out before we could knock on the door. “Cici. Mrs. Howe. I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She shaded her eyes with her hand in the direction of Dad’s truck following behind. “And you brought company?”
Audie was right. We did look a bit ridiculous, approaching her en masse. Too late to change now.
A copy of that morning’s Herald lay on the porch, and I gestured to it. “My sister Dina mentioned she was coming by to talk with you. She was working on a news story about a child’s map I found in the boxes you sold me. Did she make it this far?”
“Dina Wilde? The one with…?”
“The one with the blue hair. Yes.” I finished the unspoken question. People never knew how to react to Dina’s strange hairdos. “So? Did she come by here?”
Dustin paused before she answered. “As a matter of fact, she did. About the middle of the afternoon.”
“Why are these folks bothering you?” Wilbert joined us. He might not be working the bellows today, but he looked like he hadn’t changed overalls since yesterday. He could have shared pointers on anti-social behavior with Ham Gaynor.
“They’re asking after that reporter. She’s their sister.”
“Yup, she was here a few minutes. Left pretty quick. Told her we didn’t have time to chase any kid’s fanciful story, we were too busy.”
Dead end. Or was it? “What did she do then?”
“What do you mean?” Dustin resented the question, our very presence. Maybe we interrupted her only day of rest.
“Did she ask for permission to look on her own? Did she leave?”
“I don’t know. A group of kids came by just then about the hayride, and I didn’t pay any attention. The next thing I knew, her car was gone.”
Of course. Look for the car, and we should find Dina. I glanced at Audie, and he shook his head. No, he seemed to say, I didn’t see her car on the way out here.
Dad and Jenna climbed out of the truck. Noah stayed inside. From what I could tell through the tinted windows, he had slipped his sunglasses on. Jenna looked around. “So this is where all the honey gets made.”
Dustin managed a small smile at that. “I don’t actually make the honey. I only harvest it. Thank the bees.”
Perhaps Jenna had wanted to soften our frontal assault. If so, her plan didn’t work.
“Well? Have they seen Dina?” Dad blurted out the words. His summer tan had turned winter pale on his leathery face.
I shook my head. “She came by and left. They don’t know where she might have gone.” We stood around, uncertain what to do next.
“Well, if that was your only question, then we’re done.” Dustin turned in the direction of the house.
“I have a question.” Gilda came forward.
Dustin whirled at this unexpected intrusion. “Really, I don’t know anything about …”
“Oh, it’s about your honey. Pastor Waldberg showed us a jar of your berry blend. Do you have any other flavors?”
“Flavors? Oh, you mean like wildflower and berry blend? We also carry apple blossom.”
Apple blossom? But there are no apple trees on the Kirkendall property, are there?
“Cord Grace was nice enough to let me set up a beehive in the old orchard on the ranch.” Dustin gestured in the direction of the Circle G.
Mary Grace’s seedlings. A sliver of an idea stirred in me.
“Unless you want to buy some honey, I think we’re done here. I promise I’ll call if I catch sight of your sister.” Dustin turned her back on us and tugged Wilbert’s arm in the direction of the old farmhouse.
I made hand motions at Jenna that I was ready to leave, and we climbed back into our vehicles.
“S
omething caught your attention. What is it?” Audie asked as soon as I closed the door.
Before I could answer, my cell rang.
“What’s going on?” Jenna demanded as soon as I answered.
“We’re going to the Circle G.”
Audie lifted an eyebrow but turned in the direction of the ranch when we reached the end of the driveway. We came out this way every time we went to the Crazy W, since the Circle G was situated between our ranch and the Kirkendall spread.
“—why?”
I had lost track of Jenna’s conversation. “The clue in the mural about the tree of life. I want to check something in the apple orchard.”
“Dina’s missing. Forget the mural.”
“Do you have a better idea?” I challenged.
“Yeah, ride over every inch of the Murks’ land. I didn’t like the way she was acting.”
“While we’re at the ranch, we’ll tell Frances what happened.” Was it too early to file a missing persons report? I had heard somewhere that an adult had to be missing for three days before concerned parties could bring the matter to the police. I didn’t care. Frances knew Jenna, and knew how out of character her absence was.
When we pulled up to the Grace ranch house a few minutes later, we spotted Mayor Ron’s OU-red Cadillac in the driveway, next to Suzanne Jay’s less ostentatious Hyundai. The Graces had gathered for a family dinner—like we did every Sunday, except today. Frances came out on the porch when she heard our cars spitting up gravel in the driveway.
“Well, howdy, neighbors. Come on in.” Her voice didn’t betray any surprise at the unexpected arrival. She sounded like a typical southern matron, not our polished police officer.
“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.” Audie called over his shoulder as he helped me out of the car.
Wumph. Every time I stood up was harder than the time before. Once on my feet, I was okay. Junior liked me to move around.
Frances took in the second car that followed us into her yard, and professional interest replaced southern hospitality. “You’d better come inside.”
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder Page 15
