Murder in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  I followed his eyes and saw Matt Durand talking to an older woman. Could Mr. B be watching Matt? When I looked back at him, his white eyebrows pulled down into a frown and he stared right at me. My heart jumped. After a few seconds, he snapped a black fedora on his head and exited through the door.

  It took a few seconds before my brain kicked into gear. I pushed back down the aisle, weaving around people who stood talking in groups. I looked for Sam but didn’t see him. I hurried through the doorway to the main parlor and turned right. Rushing down the long hallway, I pushed out the front door into a gray and snowy morning.

  After scanning the immediate area, I didn’t see Mr. B, so I jogged left to the packed parking lot. I looked for the well-dressed bookie but Mr. B had disappeared. Then I realized he could have parked on the other side of the funeral home. So I ran back to the street behind Winnberrie’s, where I found many empty parking spaces. Swearing, I went back into the funeral home.

  I found Sam talking to Matt Durand and told them about seeing Mr. B.

  “Can’t you go after him or something?” I asked.

  “Did he say or do anything threatening?” Matt asked.

  “No, but he was here at Justin’s memorial service.”

  Matt shook his head. “Liz, if he didn’t say or do anything illegal, I can’t go after him. He’s on our list of people to interview. We’re picking up Jimmy Dietz today and will pursue any leads after we interrogate him. Maybe he can link Mr. B to the killing.”

  I could feel heat warming my face and I clenched my fists. I knew there was no way Jimmy would incriminate Ansell Benedetto. The police had to follow the rules, which made their process very slow. I was tired of waiting. Turning on my heels, I hurried out of the funeral home. Sam caught up to me at the Jeep.

  “Liz, don’t let Durand get to you. He’s just very ‘by the book,’” he said.

  “No kidding. Matt just ticks me off. He’s so pig-headed.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Sam said.

  “Mom and Ben told me that the gossip mill is talking about Jimmy Dietz or Eddie Klein being suspects in Justin’s murder.” We both leaned back against Sam’s Jeep. “They got it half right.”

  “The gossip mill is on it already?" he asked.

  “They work fast and are very organized. Ben said he and Mom have sources who call them with information about the case,” I said, rubbing my face. “I’m sure they’re people in the gossip group. But how are they getting detailed information like that? I know it’s not Joyce or Newmont.”

  Sam shook his head. “Some of the patrol officers must be sharing tidbits with their significant others and it takes off from there. Heads will roll if that’s what happened and Matt finds out.”

  “Sure will. Sam, what if the news about Jimmy Dietz got back to Madison and Mr. B?”

  Sam thought for a minute. “I think if that happened, Mr. B would have hauled Jimmy in and grilled him back in the city. I don’t think he’d come out to a memorial service in Mystic Grove for Justin. Do you?”

  I folded my arms. “I guess not. It was such a shock to see him standing there. He looked just like that painting only more ominous.”

  “I didn’t see him before the service began,” said Sam. “I wonder when he arrived.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he came in after the service was over.” I pushed off the Jeep and slid my hands into my coat pockets.

  “Maybe. You know, maybe Mr. B just wanted to make sure Justin was really dead.”

  I looked at him in shock but couldn’t argue the point. It was a definite possibility, especially if Justin had continued to lose at gambling and racked up a new debt that Jimmy hadn't shared with us. Now Mr. B knew Justin would never pay back any remaining debts.

  Chapter 38

  Later in the day, my cellphone rang. Martha Church was very excited and said Peter had found Justin’s Bible. Could we come over?

  “You bet!” I said. Sam and I had decided to keep working the other angles of the case, even though we both thought both Mark Sweet and Jimmy Dietz were good candidates for the murder. Waiting for Matt to call about interrogating Jimmy had put both Sam and me on edge. He jumped up from his desk when I told him about the Bible and said, “Let’s go!”

  When we entered the Emporium, the first thing I noticed was Justin’s urn on a shelf behind the main counter. Peter and Martha stood behind the counter, their heads bent over the Bible. Both of them were still dressed in their memorial service clothes.

  “The service for Justin was wonderful,” I said as we walked up.

  “Thank you both for coming. We were so happy at the number of people who joined us,” Marth replied with a smile.

  “I think it was all of Mystic Grove,” Sam said and they both beamed.

  “I hope it doesn’t seem odd that we’re back at work so soon,” Peter added. “We went to lunch with Joy and the grandkids. After they left for Madison, we felt we should open up the Emporium.” He looked uncertain.

  “I think keeping busy is exactly the right thing to do. The urn looks beautiful there,” I replied. They both looked back at Justin’s urn.

  “He’ll be here with us forever,” Martha said and sounded at peace.

  After a pause, Sam asked, “You found the Bible?”

  “We did! I found it hidden in the bottom of an old wooden cabinet in the basement. I have no idea why Justin hid it there. I also found a stack of Civil War issues of Harper’s Weekly, a small clay pipe, an old pair of wire rim glasses, and two Mason jars filled with old buttons and tokens,” Peter said with a smile. He was clearly excited. All of the other items also sat on the counter.

  Sam and I walked up and saw a book wrapped in a drab, gray, cover. The Bible was roughly five inches wide by seven inches long and two inches thick. Peter opened the cover and pointed to an inscription at the top of the title page. I leaned in and saw writing in sepia colored ink. I read aloud, “John Cahill 1861” and “Mystic Grove, Wisconsin.” The handwriting was very swirly and ornate. I turned the pages of the Bible and ran a finger lightly over the paper.

  “Was this book cover on the Bible when Justin carried it around?” Sam asked. Martha and Peter nodded.

  “Can we take the cover off?” I asked.

  Martha sucked her cheeks in as if she’d bit into a lemon. “Of course,” she replied. She slowly pulled off the gray book cover and placed the closed Bible in front of me.

  The reddish-brown, leather covers were hand tooled and beautiful. Embossed on the spine in gold letters and surrounded by golden scrollwork were the words, “Holy Bible.” There was faded gilt on the edges of each page.

  “The Bible is bigger than I expected,” said Sam.

  Peter smiled and his eyes sparkled. “It was published in 1850 by the American Bible Society. It includes the Old and New Testament. It also has Canne’s marginal references, the Apocrypha and Concordance, and an index and references. It’s in excellent condition. There are some beautiful illustrations.”

  I opened the Bible. The covers were thick and sturdy. As I turned the pages, I saw they had tan spots and browning.

  “Is the discoloration normal?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Martha replied. “It’s called foxing and is part of the aging process for old books and documents.”

  I nodded and kept turning the pages. “What about this Bible made Justin so happy?” I wondered out loud.

  Sam reached out to touch the paper. “Do we know who John Cahill was?” he asked. Martha and I exchanged a smile. Peter was the Village historian.

  “The Cahills worked a small farm near Mystic Grove,” said Peter. “I looked John up in the historical society database. He was a divinity student and was found shot to death in the Mystic Grove cemetery in late 1865. His younger brother, William, served and died in the Civil War. William’s name is engraved on the Wall of Honor in Founders Park. The Wall contains the names of all the Mystic Grove soldiers we’ve lost in various wars.”

  “Do you know who shot John Cah
ill?” I asked.

  Peter shook his head. “No, unfortunately, the case was never solved.”

  “Does the historical background make the Bible special or expensive?” Sam asked.

  “Not really,” Peter replied. “It’s a very nice Bible with provenance. It would be especially valuable to the family. However, both parents died shortly after John Cahill’s death. I’ll have to do more research to see if there are any direct descendants.”

  I puffed out a breath and Sam stretched next to me. “I don’t see how this helps with the case,” I said.

  “Frankly, we don’t either. We’re just happy we found it,” Martha replied. “Would it be okay if we kept it for a while? I’d like to go through each page.”

  Sam smiled. “I don’t see why not. There’s nothing evidentiary about it, so you don’t even have to give it to the police.” Martha beamed and looked at Peter. He smiled back at her.

  I moved over to one of the teal blue jars. “What are these?” I asked. The jar was about twelve inches high and had a sloped shoulder. There were bubbles in the glass that made the jar semi-opaque. I thought the teal color was pretty.

  “I found those Mason jars in the same cabinet with the Bible. People used them for canning and preserving, but they were also good for storing small objects,” Peter said, moving down the counter to join me.” Looks like someone collected old buttons and tokens.”

  “Are they worth any money?” Sam asked, looking at the jar in passing and moving next to me to look at the stack of old newspapers.

  “Hard to say until we can open the jars and get a closer look. Those zinc lids can be hard to get off and I don’t want to damage the jars,” Peter said.

  “The jars themselves are collectibles,” Martha explained.

  Peter nodded in agreement. “I have a dealer friend in Chicago who’s very knowledgeable in both tokens and buttons. Later, when we have more time, I’ll give him a call. He’ll always drive up for Martha’s cooking,” Peter said and Martha laughed.

  “What about these newspapers?” Sam asked. Peter moved down the counter.

  “I think of them more as weekly news magazines,” he said, picking up the top issue. “Harper’s Weekly was a large format publication that opened like a book or magazine. They published the best writers and artists of the time.”

  I looked at the Harper’s Weekly more closely. The yellowed paper looked like newsprint, but heavier. When closed, the issue Peter held was approximately 16 inches by 11 inches. It did look like an old magazine without covers.

  “We have a complete set for 1861 and a partial set for 1862. The Harper’s Weeklies will sell because anything related to the Civil War usually sells,” Martha said and Peter nodded.

  “And the pipe and glasses?” Sam asked, picking the pipe up. He moved to put it in his mouth.

  “Don’t!” I squeaked. “Germs! Very old germs!”

  Sam froze and looked at me, eyebrows like exclamation points. “Okay, Mom,” he replied with a laugh and I groaned.

  Peter chuckled. “Those could sell.” He looked at Martha. “We’ll have to talk about what we want to do. We might want to keep those.” Martha smiled and her hand strayed to the Bible.

  Sam asked a question about the pipe and Peter launched into a lengthy answer.

  I pulled Martha aside. “You know, after that phone call you got, you might want to hide the Bible away. Just in case,” I said.

  “We already have the perfect hiding place,” Martha agreed. “We’re not taking any chances.”

  “That’s good,” I said and placed my hand on the cover of the Bible again. This time, I felt a buzz of energy that was almost pleasant. Surprised, I slid my hand to the counter, fighting the urge to look at my palm. When I looked up, Martha was watching me.

  I lowered my voice. “It has its own energy, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  Martha broke into a smile. “It does, indeed. I don’t understand it, but it gives me comfort. I’m so relieved you can feel it too. Peter can’t and I was afraid I was starting to go batty.”

  I laughed. “You’re not,” I reassured her.

  “Liz, can we keep this between us?” Martha asked, in a whisper.

  “We can. I won’t say a word,” I replied and her face relaxed. I lowered my voice even more. “Martha, we have a tree in the meadow that we call Thorn. We think it’s…special. Only the family can feel the energy that Thorn sends out. It’s like your Bible, so I understand.”

  Martha’s mouth was open and her head tilted as she listened. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel like the energy still connects me to Justin.” I reached my arms across the counter and hugged Martha as best I could.

  The men’s voices got louder as they neared us. “Thanks for showing us the Bible. If you find anything else you think we should see, just call us,” he said.

  “Will do,” Peter agreed.

  “Thanks again,” I said and smiled at Martha and Peter. I gave the Bible a final look and followed Sam out of the Emporium. As we walked back across the road, I said, “It doesn’t help the investigation a bit, but I’m really happy they have Justin’s Bible back.”

  Sam smiled. “Me too.”

  Chapter 39

  In the late afternoon, Sam called me into his office to listen in on a call with Newmont. I grabbed my notebook and hurried in. “Liz is here, Newmont. Go ahead when you’re ready,” said Sam. I sat on the nearest office chair.

  Newmont’s drawl filled the room. “Chief Durand and I went to Paulie’s Pub to talk to Jimmy Dietz. He wasn’t there. The bartender said Dietz called in this morning and asked him to tell Mr. Benedetto he’d be away for a while, taking care of family business. The bartender wasn’t happy but he called Mr. B at home and relayed the message. Mr. B was also unhappy.

  “Why didn’t Jimmy call Mr. B?” I asked.

  “The bartender asked him that question. Dietz said he was catching a flight in a few minutes and couldn’t make the call himself.”

  “Sounds bogus,” I commented.

  “Did you check Dietz’s office?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, we searched it and didn’t find any guns. Then we drove to his house. We had a no knock warrant but didn’t need it. The front door was slightly ajar, so we went in and did a quick search for Dietz. He wasn’t there. After that, we searched for guns. In the master bedroom, the dresser drawers were all open. The closet looked like he had come in and yanked clothes off the hangers. We did find a shotgun in a closet. We notified the Sheriff’s office that Dietz was a person of interest in the Justin Church murder and was missing. They issued a BOLO.”

  Sam arched his eyebrows at me and I nodded. I knew that a BOLO meant “Be on Look Out.” It was like an all-points bulletin and notified all police officers that Jimmy Dietz was wanted for questioning.

  “So Jimmy Dietz is on the run?” Sam asked.

  “Could be. Although, it’s also possible there really was some family emergency,” Newmont replied. “That’s why we made it clear he was a person of interest in our case.”

  “I think his only family is a sister in California,” I said.

  “A sister? You have contact information?” Newmont asked.

  “Hang on.” I flipped back through my notes until I found my summary of the teleconference with Mitch Shepherd about his profile on Jimmy Dietz. “Here it is. Emory. Nina Emory. Divorced with two kids. Lives in San Francisco.”

  “I can ask our researcher to call you with her contact information. He may have it,” said Sam.

  “Thanks, that would be great,” Newmont replied. He paused for a second and I was sure he was writing notes in his small notebook.

  “Newmont, can you let me know what the sister says?” Sam asked.

  “Will do,” Newmont replied. Then he continued in his slow drawl. “There’s something else. I talked to Carlie Tate. She said Jimmy Dietz didn’t call her in for their meeting at Paulie’s Pub until around 4:45 p.m. the day of the murder. He was forty-five minutes late. She worked on
her computer in the larger dining room while she waited for him. She tried calling him once, but it went to voicemail. After he arrived, they had a business meeting in his office until 6:00 p.m. Then they had dinner for two hours and she left. She confirmed he spent the night at her place.”

  I did a quick calculation. “That means he could have shot Justin as late as 3:45 p.m. and made it back to Madison by 4:45 p.m.”

  “Yes, it changes his timeline and still fits within the time of death window,” Newmont agreed. “On another front, Mark Sweet lawyered up. He still swears Nikki Fremont is lying about him not being with her before he went to the Emporium. That’s about it. Anything new on your end?”

  “No, nothing new,” Sam replied.

  “Okay then, we’ll keep in touch,” Newmont said.

  After Sam hung up, we just looked at each other. I felt the back of my neck tingle.

  “Do you think Jimmy could be our guy,” I asked.

  Sam spun a pen in his right hand. “Could be. I’ll feel better once we hear what the sister had to say.”

  “You really think there’s a family emergency?”

  Sam tossed the pen on the desk and leaned forward. “That’s what he told the bartender and it’s a logical reason for leaving.”

  “I guess. The timing is interesting, though. It sounds like he split after we interviewed him. He must have known the police would be his next visitors and they’d have warrants.”

  We discussed continuing the investigation until we knew for sure that Jimmy was our man. However, we didn’t have anywhere to go. Mark Sweet had lawyered up and only ballistics would tell us if his Sig was the murder weapon. Ben didn’t seem like a viable suspect to me but we had to wait for ballistics on his Sig too. And the only incriminating evidence we had against Damian Fletcher was an anonymous note probably written by Finnegan Daley. Sherrie’s alibi for Damian refuted the allegation in the note. Dead end, I thought.