Noah joined the group inside the house this time, sunglasses in place. Had he snorted or smoked or whatever some drugs? How, in a car full of people? We really needed to talk with Dina about his problem. Dina. In spite of myself, a few tears sprang into my eyes. I wiped at them angrily.
Frances led us into the farmhouse once as familiar to me as my own home, where I had spent many happy hours of my childhood. Watercolors had replaced a few of Cord’s more garish hunting trophies. The 8-point buck he had shot as a thirteen-year-old remained in pride of place, however. Cord came to the kitchen door, as mystified as his wife about our sudden appearance on his doorstep.
Frances took another long look at me, then turned to her husband. “Ask Suzanne to set out—” She glanced over my shoulder and counted. “—six more place settings.”
“But we’re not here—” Even as I protested, my stomach rumbled at the aromas wafting through the open door.
“I know that. But it doesn’t take a detective to see you haven’t eaten. Don’t worry, we have ham and beans and potato salad, and always plenty in the pantry to go around.”
Gilda disappeared only to return with her pan of apple crisp. “Here’s a small contribution.” Jenna snapped her fingers and brought in a bag of multi-grain rolls she had snagged at the grocery store.
That was the way in Grace Gulch, true neighborliness, at least between the residents of the Circle G and the Crazy W. It didn’t matter that we didn’t visit as much as we used to when we were kids. We offered a shoulder to cry on, a plate of hot food, and help whenever needed—often before you even asked.
As soon as they set the food in front of us, we discovered our appetites. Frances took out her notebook. “Do we need the Chief?”
I couldn’t speak; scalloped potatoes filled my mouth. I was hungry enough for two people, like the old wives’ tales recommend.
Jenna caught my eye before speaking. “It’s Dina. She’s missing.”
A collective gasp echoed in the kitchen. Cord placed a reassuring hand on Audie’s shoulder.
Frances’ lips pursed, ready to give the standard police reply, but she didn’t speak. Instead she took in the number of us gathered at the table, the makeup of our motley group.
“When did you last see Dina?”
I took an extra slice of ham as well as a second dish of applesauce.
We explained our last contacts, as well as our unsatisfactory visit at the Murks. “And no one has seen or heard of her since then.”
While we talked, the Graces waited on us like servers at a restaurant. Even Mayor Ron donned an apron. He looked comical, a cartoon-strip chef with his gleaming bald head and beaming smile, except he was too concerned and kindhearted for us to think of laughing at him.
Frances made notes. “Have any of you called the paper?”
My mouth went dry, and I reached for my water. (We had drunk the last of the tea already.) Did I feel foolish. I couldn’t imagine Dina leaving town to research a story without telling us, but how did we miss such an obvious step?
“I did.” At least Jenna had her head on straight. “They haven’t heard from her either. She told the editor to expect a late story, and they held the paper an extra hour, but Dina never showed up. The editor’s called her cell phone. No answer, of course.”
“I’ll start the wheels in motion. Call the medical centers and other police stations and the like.” She hesitated. “Do you want to ask for help looking for her car?”
“I’ll take help wherever we can get it.” Dad put in. His face had regained some color with the consumption of food.
“I’ll put the word out.” Mayor Ron removed his apron and pulled out his cell phone. If anyone could rally the troops, our mayor could.
The front room transformed into Dina Central, everyone performing a specific task in the search. Cord brought everyone fresh water and coffee. He opened a familiar cookie jar and snatched one of his specialties, chocolate chip from frozen cookie dough. “You look like you could use this.”
I shouldn’t have been hungry after that huge lunch. Maybe nerves built up an appetite. I took a small bite, then a larger one.
“I feel sick about Dina. What could have happened?”
I looked at my old friend, and knew he meant every word. He knew every inch of the Circle G; we had spent countless hours exploring the land as children. If anyone knew about any hidey holes on the ranch, he would.
“This will sound strange.” I finished the cookie and sipped some coffee, decaf at Audie’s insistence. “I’ll explain my reasons for asking in a minute. But. . . do you know of any place on the Circle G where somebody might go to hide something?”
“You think Dina is on the ranch?” If the room were a smidgeon quieter, everyone would have jumped at the sound of his voice.
“No. Yes. Maybe.” I explained our theories about the Grace Gulch Gold mural. “Dina was determined to find Brad Merriman.” No need to explain why, not yet. “Her disappearance might be connected to that search. I—I received a threat.”
Cord’s face grew serious. “Frances needs to hear this.” He gestured for his wife. Audie caught sight of the two of them leading me to another room and followed.
It was time to lay all our cards on the table.
24
Over time, Edna Gaynor Reiner changed the ice cream shop to a bakery. When she retired to Arizona, she sold it to her niece, Jessie Gaynor. Jessie returned to Grace Gulch after several years operating a successful café in Dallas.
Cousins Izzie Reiner and Jessie Gaynor run Grace Gulch’s two eating establishments, The Gulch and Gaynor Goodies. As long as these two ladies stay in town, the citizens can always be sure of good food.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Sunday, September 24
“Wait.” Frances interrupted my narrative. “The Chief needs to hear this.” Frances asked.
Reiner had arrived a few minutes ago, and for once I was glad to see him. He and the Mayor had organized search parties between them. If Dina or her car was there to be found … I gulped. They’ll find her. They have to find her.
I looked to Audie for advice, then realized he didn’t know the subject of our discussion. “If you insist.” I didn’t want him there. Frances might listen, but the Chief was more likely to dismiss my ideas. “It’s just a theory we were exploring. There’s no proof or anything.” I paused. “But Jenna should probably be in on this discussion as well.” I couldn’t explain our interest in Finella’s death and Brad’s disappearance without revealing “the secret”—Jenna’s secret. I didn’t want to do that without her knowledge.
Audie slipped out and brought Reiner and Jenna back. We assembled in a back room Cord had converted into an office complete with a computer and printer. How things had changed since the land run a little more than a century ago.
“Okay. Spill.” Frances pulled a mini recorder from a desk drawer. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Now why do those words sound familiar?” Jenna did not look pleased that I had dragged her away from the search into a session with the local police.
“They may be able to help.” I reminded my sister. Maybe I shouldn’t have invited her to join us. No, I had no choice.
Everyone looked at me. I took a deep breath and plunged in. “It all started on the day of the fire. When Finella Gaynor died and Brad Merriman disappeared.”
Frances groaned. “Don’t tell me you decided to play detective again. I thought, with the baby and all. . .”
“I wasn’t going to. But then both Jenna and Dina asked for my help.” I shifted uneasily in my seat. C’mon, sis, speak up.
“Why should you be concerned—” Reiner’s mustache quivered.
I knew the Chief wouldn’t like our interference.
“Because Brad Merriman is Dina’s father, that’s why.” Bright red engulfed Jenna’s cheeks. “I never told anyone, and now the world will know. Oh, my baby.” Tears she had held at bay spilled out. Audie rooted around for a box
of tissues and handed them to her.
That announcement shut Frances’ mouth, as well as Cord’s. Jenna’s pregnancy had been the scandal of the year when we were in fifth grade. He hadn’t teased me about it—much—but he knew the history, all right.
“So you can understand why both Jenna and Dina wanted me to find Brad. To make sure he was safe.” I pretended Jenna’s news was expected to downplay it.
“And to prove his innocence in Finella’s murder, no doubt.” Cord said dryly. He had watched me solve the earlier murders. Since the police had suspected him in Penn Hardy’s murder, he couldn’t fault me.
“Well, yes.” I coughed. “But we decided to concentrate on finding Brad, and we came up with this idea about the mural.” I explained our theories. “We figured he might have gone to ground at a place he already knew. We’re pretty sure that the beehive in the mural refers to Dustin’s business. There aren’t that many active beehives around Grace Gulch.”
“Someone pushed an envelope under her door on Friday.” Audie told them about the threat. Frances frowned, upset we hadn’t told her before.
“I know all that.” Jenna waved her hands in the air. “But what does that have to do with Dina?”
I mirrored her wild motions with some of my own. “I don’t know. Maybe she saw something at the Murks’ that made sense of something else in the mural. Maybe whoever sent the note saw her at the Murks’ and decided to make good on their threat. Or maybe nothing.”
No one said anything. I jumped in the fill the silence. “Because if I can figure out the mural, I’ll feel like I’m doing something. If there is a hiding place on the Circle G property, Cord would probably know about it.”
Cord frowned. “A couple of fox holes. No place big enough for someone to hide out.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“I’ve heard enough.” The Chief edged out the door. “Tell me if they have any useful information.”
Frances nodded.
Audie cleared his throat. “How about a tree of life? Does that bring anything to mind? Maybe in the apple orchard?”
Apple blossom honey.
“Hey, I love the Circle G, but it ain’t Eden.” No one laughed at Cord’s joke. “Tree of life, tree of life.” He snapped his fingers. “There’s a tree in the orchard.” Pink suffused his face. “I used to get scared during lightning storms. Granddaddy would show me the tree that should have died and didn’t and say ‘If God wants a thing to live, nothing can kill it.’”
The misshapen tree sprang into my mind. The broken trunk made it easy for us to climb. It had not only survived but thrived, producing quality fruit year after year.
“That’s it! It has to be!” I stood up a mite too quickly. Dizziness washed over me, and I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
Audie got the look on his face that said humor-her-she’s-pregnant. I felt like stamping my foot. “It’s another clue from the mural. And it’s just the kind of thing that Dina would have figured out.”
Frances looked at Cord. “I’d better stay here and help the Chief coordinate search efforts.”
“I’ll come with you.” Cord grabbed his cowboy hat. “It’s been so long, you may have forgotten the way.” He managed a half smile. Trust me, it said.
“Jenna?”
My sister had stuffed her hands in her pockets, looking more indecisive than I had ever seen her. “I think I’ll. . . stay here. Call me the second you find anything. Anything at all.”
Frances handed her notepad to Cord. “Make a map that shows where the miracle tree is located.” She turned to me, lifting her hand as if she wanted to shake a finger in my face before she dropped it. “If you’re right, someone may have kidnapped two people to keep them from revealing a secret. Call me every ten minutes. I’ll fill the Chief in on your plans. If I don’t hear from you—”
“You’ll come running.” Cord kissed his wife. “It’s nice to have such a take-charge woman for my wife.” They exchanged one of those honeymooner glances. From my vantage point of an old married lady of two years, I could make that comment.
We exited the back to avoid questions on our way out the door. Audie asked for my notebook with the clues.
“We’d better take my Jeep. It can cover the ground the quickest.”
Actually, a horse would manage the trip the best, but I appreciated Cord’s sensitivity to my condition. I had no desire to mount a horse; Junior wouldn’t enjoy the experience.
Audie flipped through my notebook and held it open to one page. “Is there any significance to the order you wrote down the numbers?”
I started to shake my head in the negative, but stopped. “Well, they’re in the order they appear on the mural. Left to right.”
“And so 24:13, about the honey, was the furthest left?”
I studied the page. “I guess so.”
“And that means the tree of life in 3:18 was in the second position.”
I nodded.
“If the clues are to be followed in the order left-to-right, the next clue is from 4:18. About the first gleam of dawn.”
Dawn? Would we have to wait until morning to check it out? Maybe it only meant to look east of the tree of life for something that gleamed.
Cord’s Jeep trundled down the grassy orchard path as if it was a smooth tarmac. We passed a beehive in mid-orchard.
“Dustin Murk said you let her harvest honey from the orchard, but I didn’t realize she had gone to this extent.”
“She pays us a nice percentage of her sales.”
Within ten minutes we arrived at the supposed ‘tree of life.’ We stepped out of the vehicle. New growth had pushed the lightning split further up the tree than I remembered—too high now for two small children to climb. Junior stirred, ready to jump out and master the challenge. Oh, no you don’t. Wait a few years. I was sure our child would discover a few special places of his own.
“Which way is north?” Audie pivoted on his right foot and answered his own question. “I suppose that’s west.” The afternoon had sped away during our time at the ranch house, and the sun began its descent.
Together we turned to the east, peering through the trees in search of the gleam of dawn. Only the shadowy darkness of the orchard greeted our eyes.
Unwilling to give up, I circled the tree and reached into the crevice where we climbed as children. Nothing.
I leaned over, and Audie must have caught my intention. He slipped to his knees and examined the ground. “No footprints, not that I’m an expert.”
Cord sat back on his haunches and grunted in agreement. “What do you expect to find, exactly?”
“Some sign that Dina came here, I guess. But it looks like no one has been here. Not even apple pickers.” I grabbed an apple dangling from a branch and took a juicy bite. We had eaten so many of them as children we sometimes made ourselves sick. How can I eat anything else after that enormous lunch?
Unwilling to give up, I took a few steps to the east. Some leaves had fallen from the trees, as well as overly ripe apples. I tripped over one in my path.
“Be careful there, Cic.” Audie took my elbow and didn’t let go.
Cord hung back with a cell phone to his ear, probably to report our lack of progress to Frances.
Mary Grace had planted a dozen apple trees, as well as peach and pecan. Over time those trees had given birth to several more, and her original orderly design had developed strange bulges. I continued east in more or less a straight line, straining my eyes every few seconds to check for anything of interest in the distance. Nothing.
“Say.” Cord huffed to our side. “They’ve found Dina’s car.”
“They found Dina?” The possible “dawn’s early light” dimmed in importance.
Cord shook his head. “Just her car. One of the treasure hunters noticed it at the Garland Café last night. It was still there when they went by to check it out.”
With one accord, we left the orchard and rushed to Cord’s vehicle.
“Did anyone
see Dina? Know anything?” The questions spilled out of me.
“Frances didn’t say.” Cord turned the key. “Let’s get back and ask.”
The volunteers had left the ranch house to perform their assigned duties. Frances and the Chief had phones glued to their ears, probably updating all the search teams about the discovery of Dina’s car. Jenna sat hunched over in a corner. No sign of Noah or Dad or Gilda--they must have joined the search parties.
Frances held up a finger when she saw us enter. She ended the call and waved us in. Jenna walked—no, not walked. She hopped from her chair in the corner, like a scared grasshopper making its way across a leaf. She answered my question before I opened my mouth to ask it.
“No one saw Dina. No one talked to her. No one saw anyone drive up in her car. Zero. Zilch.” The control that had held Jenna together all day melted away and she looked as pathetic as a soaking wet kitten.
Whatever my face reflected, I felt the same way—Dina’s car, but no Dina.
What could we do next?
25
Ned Waller was the oldest man to stake a claim in the Gulch during the 1891 land run. The family farm in Arkansas no longer supported his and his brothers’ families, so he decided to try for land of his own. Local lore says that he carried a lock of his wife Emma’s silver-blonde hair in a medicine pouch about his neck. Some people attributed his success in the land run to “true love.” Ned himself always gave the credit to God, saying no one was more surprised than he when he nabbed the last parcel of land near the Gulch.
From A History of Grace Gulch
Monday, September 25
I didn’t think I could possibly rest with my worries about Dina. But by the time Audie finished massaging my feet on Sunday night, I only had time for a quick prayer before falling asleep. Sweet aromas teased me awake a few minutes before five—a much better alarm than the buzzer I had set to make it back to the lightning tree by dawn, shortly after six.
The enticing smells floating up the stairs from the kitchen suggested Gilda hadn’t rested well. She didn’t get up in the middle of the night to bake something, did she? I hoped not. The longer Gilda stayed, the more I appreciated her pampering. A girl could get used to hot breads first thing in the morning. It smelled like some kind of cake, but what exactly?
Darlene Franklin - Dressed for Death 03 - Paint Me a Murder Page 16
