by S F Bose
He smiled. “Thank you. I do feel more relaxed. I’m also wearing Grace down on that manicotti recipe.” I snorted. Grace will never give up her manicotti recipe, I thought.
We looked at each other and the silence built. Small talk failed me. “Tell me what’s wrong,” said Raven.
I sighed. “You know that case I told you about?”
“The murder? How could I forget?”
“My mother fired us. We’re off the case.” The more I said it, the more frustrated and angry I felt.
His ginger eyebrows darted up and he stroked his beard. “Why?”
I told him about how we thought Jimmy Dietz was good for the murder but turned out to be innocent.
“If everyone thought this man was a good suspect, why did your mother fire you?”
I rubbed my face. “I may have gotten her hopes up. I don’t know.”
“Liz, do you want to see justice for the man who was killed?”
“Justin? Of course I do. Also for his parents.”
“Then keep working the case. What your mother did is irrelevant. You’re really working for Justin and his family, not your mother.” Raven leaned back and watched me.
I just stared at him, absorbing what he’d said. “That’s pretty much what Sam said.”
“Your boss?” Raven’s hands cradled his cup of tea.
“Yes. He said we should solve the case for Peter and Martha, the parents.”
“He’s right,” Raven agreed.
“I guess.”
Raven frowned. “Liz, frankly, I’m disturbed to see how tentative you’ve become since you left Worldhead. You’re normally very action-oriented and…relentless.”
Anger crackled through me and I narrowed my eyes. “It’s being back home gain,” I hissed. “I feel like I’m regressing back to childhood sometimes.”
Raven looked interested. “Is it something they put in the water?”
“It’s just being here! Even though you’re an adult, you fall back into old ways of relating to people. The insecurities you had as a kid suddenly return, full-blown.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“It is!” I exploded.
Raven’s lips compressed as he thought. “You should leave Mystic Grove and go back to Virginia where you can be an adult.”
It was almost funny. I nearly laughed, but I didn’t. “You’re right. Sam’s right. Our clients are really Justin, his parents, and his sister. I have to get over my…issues. They’re taking me off my game.”
Raven nodded his head in agreement. “Exactly right.”
I gave him an appraising look. “You know you’re good at listening and advice giving.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Raven agreed, in all seriousness. That was when I laughed and he looked confused.
After more cups of coffee and a long rambling conversation with Raven that went for four hours, I finally left the B&B. I drove my car from the guest lot to the coach house garage. Once I was inside the house, I sent Sam a text message, “We need to finish the case for Justin. Will be in tomorrow. Have to get some sleep now.” Sam texted back “Awesome!” followed by a smiley face.
Snap and Sammy Cat were happy to see me. I gave them tummy rubs and fresh food. Then I ran upstairs. I secured my gun, put on my flannel pajama top and pants, and slid under the covers. Minutes later, the cats jumped up on the bed and settled near the pillow next to me. The bedside clock read 5:30 p.m.
“I’m just going to sleep for a few hours,” I told the cats. I reached out to pet them. Their purring put me to sleep.
Chapter 48
Sixteen hours later, I woke up. “Five more minutes,” I said, rolling over on my stomach and hugging the pillow. Snap saw the opportunity and settled on my back, purring. I woke up again an hour later and forced myself to get up. The bedside clock said 10:30 a.m. It took me a few minutes to realize I had slept through the night and into the next morning.
“I must have been really overtired,” I muttered. After a long shower, I pulled on a blue button-up blouse, black pants, and a pullover sweater. I retrieved my Glock from the nightstand. My hiking boots and messenger bag were on the floor. I grabbed those and followed the cats downstairs.
Chloe and Olivia must have left for their shop long ago. I fed the cats, played with both of them, and devoured two bowls of cereal and a banana. I’d have coffee at the office. It was only when I checked my cellphone for messages, that I realized it was Saturday.
When I walked outside, it was unseasonably warm, so I unzipped my parka. I turned Lulu down Farm Road and cracked the driver’s window open. After a few miles, I turned the radio on and gunned the engine. It was another overcast day and snow still covered the fields. When I heard “Hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford & Sons, I cranked up the radio and sang along. It had been a favorite of mine when it came out three years earlier. By the time I got to Mystic Grove, I was revved up.
When I pulled into the small Bowman Office Building parking lot, I smiled when I saw Sam’s Jeep parked in its spot. I parked and hurried into the building. Mom could do whatever she wanted. I was going to keep investigating the case with Sam.
“It’s me,” I called, as I came in the office door. I immediately smelled coffee.
Sam called out from his office, “Morning.”
When I entered his office, I saw cups of coffee and tea and a box of donuts on the desk. Sam stood behind his chair eating a donut. He was wearing black Dockers, a black tee shirt, gray hoodie, and his gray tweed, Irish cap.
“What, no bow tie?” I asked with a smile.
Sam laughed. “I have to pace myself. So we’re going to forge ahead?”
“We are. I don’t know why I even hesitated. Except that whenever my mother is involved, it messes with my head.” I dumped my bag and coat on one of the office chairs. Then I sat down on the other chair and scooted it forward. I uncapped the cup of coffee and inhaled.
“Mmm it’s still hot,” I said, and poured in some cream and sugar.
Sam sat behind his desk. “I just got here myself. I slept in.”
“Me too. I crashed after I sent you that text yesterday.” I picked out a chocolate glazed Long John from the box of donuts. “I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.”
Sam washed down a bite of his donut with some tea. “Stress maybe? This case has been a real roller coaster.”
I nodded in agreement. “That’s probably it.”
After we ate, we went to the conference room and updated the case board. I drew a line through Jimmy Dietz’s name. We sat and studied the board.
“We still have Mark Sweet, a possible mystery man, and Ben Katz,” Sam said.
I sat back and shook my head. “I can’t prove it for a fact until the ballistics report comes back, but Ben is a non-starter.”
“Okay. Sweet’s the stronger suspect, anyway,” Sam said.
“He is. But short of getting him to confess, there’s not much more to investigate there.”
Sam drummed the table with his fingers. “True. We also have nothing on the mystery man, if he exists. Angela Apstead didn’t recognize him.”
I groaned. “Not to mention the fact there must be hundreds of men in Mystic Grove with white beards. Men around here love to grow beards in the winter.”
Sam’s hand reflexively went to his naked chin. We both smiled.
I stared at the board. We had nowhere to go.
Sam’s cellphone rang. “Hello? Hi Peter, what’s up?” he asked. There was silence as Sam listened to Peter. “Okay, sure. We can be there in ten minutes. See you then.” Sam clicked off.
“What’s up?”
“They transcribed that letter and seem excited,” Sam replied.
“Okay.” I stood and stretched. I looked at the board. “We have nothing here. Let’s go.”
Chapter 49
When we entered the Emporium, Peter hurried around the counter. “I’m just going to lock up while we talk.” We watched him lock the door and flip the window sig
n to “Closed.” Then we followed him through the showroom, down the hall, and left into the “Book Room.”
Bookshelves filled with old hardcover and collectible books lined the Book Room. More expensive first editions were kept in locked, floor to ceiling cabinets. Two round tables with chairs sat in the middle of the room and there were two easy chairs toward the back of the room.
Martha stood near one of the tables. I greeted her and we both sat down. The Bible, Civil War letter, and other papers were on the table. Peter took the chair to my left and Sam sat across from me.
“You transcribed the letter?” I asked.
“We did,” Martha replied and looked at Peter.
After taking a sip of water, Peter exhaled. I thought everything about him looked droopy today. His face sagged, his eyes were puffy, and his long white hair looked wild. He hadn’t pulled it back into a ponytail like he usually did. Even his white beard hung limply down to his chest. I felt a tingle of worry.
“Before I get to the letter, I have to tell you some of the history behind it,” he said. Sam and I nodded.
“The Fletcher family is one of the oldest and most respected families in Mystic Grove. They’re one of the Founding Families,” Peter began. “Elisha Fletcher and his wife, Catherine, arrived in Wisconsin and helped settle Mystic Grove in 1839. Their farm was southeast of the Village. Elisha eventually built the original Emporium building for his wife as a kind of get away home in the Village.”
“How many founding families were there?” Sam asked.
“Just five,” Martha replied. “The Bean, Shaw, Durand, Ferguson, and Church families.”
I felt a shot of pride that my family had helped to settle Mystic Grove so long ago. Sam’s eyebrows arched up in surprise.
“That’s amazing,” he said. “Your families have been connected all those years.”
“Yes,” Martha said and smiled. “Other families came and settled here later, but the Founding Families broke first ground.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Elisha and Catherine Fletcher had three sons. In 1861, at the start of the Civil War, Samuel, the oldest boy, joined a light artillery unit. In 1862, Silas and the youngest brother, James, wanted to enlist and join an artillery unit, possibly even Samuel’s company. Their friend, William Cahill, also wanted to join the army with them.”
Peter paused and rubbed his face. “At the time, Ephraim Budd was a successful merchant in Mystic Grove. His son, Isaac, was 18 and good friends with Silas and James Fletcher. Isaac also wanted to enlist in an artillery unit with his friends. However, Ephraim wanted his son to enlist in the 6th Wisconsin infantry, because he thought it was well-led and he'd be safer there. Ephraim spoke to Elisha Fletcher and convinced him to persuade Silas and James to also enlist in the 6th infantry. Ephraim knew if Isaac's friends went into the 6th infantry, he would too.”
“Was that common for friends to all enlist in the same unit?” I asked.
Peter nodded. “It was. However, Ephraim had a different motive. We have several of Ephraim Budd’s diaries in the Historical Society. In the 1862 diary, he wrote that he thought his son would stand a better chance of being promoted in the 6th Regiment, especially if he served with friends who would support him. Ephraim also had some connections with some of the commanding officers in the 6th Wisconsin. He hoped that if Isaac performed well in the army, and was promoted, it would give his son a springboard into politics after the War. Isaac was his only child and he held high hopes for him.”
“So he was setting his son up to have a good military record,” Sam said.
“He was. To sweeten the pot, he promised to arrange a transfer for Samuel Fletcher out of the artillery unit and into the 6th infantry with his brothers. He also offered a substantial private bounty to Silas and James, which their father would hold for them until they returned home.”
“Elisha agreed?” I asked.
Peter nodded. “He did. We have a letter in the Historical Society archives from Samuel Fletcher to Elisha. Samuel Fletcher hated the artillery. So Elisha agreed to the deal, in part to help Samuel. I’m sure he wanted his sons to serve in a regiment that would increase their chances of surviving the War. In the end, Silas Fletcher, James Fletcher, William Cahill, and Isaac Budd all enlisted in the 6th Wisconsin Infantry.”
Peter stopped and looked sad. “It turned out to be a bad decision. From the beginning of their enlistment, the young men found themselves in some of the major battles of the War. Also, Ephraim never arranged for the transfer for Samuel and he never gave the bounties to Elisha. We have some letters that Elisha sent to Silas. He told his son that he was bitterly angry with Ephraim.”
“Why didn’t Ephraim follow through?” I asked. It seemed stupid to make a promise like that in a small town and not hold up your end of the bargain.
Peter shrugged. “We really don’t know. Ephraim didn’t write about it in his diaries. He certainly had the money, but never paid the bounty to Elisha. There’s also some evidence that Ephraim persuaded other young men to join the 6th Wisconsin.”
“More support for his son, Isaac?” I asked.
“It seems likely. However, it backfired,” said Peter. “The 6th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry was in the Iron Brigade in the Army of the Potomac. They were excellent fighters. They fought at Second Bull Run, Antietam, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, the Wilderness and more. All the major battles. It wasn’t the safe regiment that Ephraim sold to the young men and their parents. As a result, many families in Mystic Grove and surrounding communities were unhappy with Ephraim Budd.”
Peter paused. Then he drew the old letter closer. “Which leads me to this letter by William Cahill.” He looked at all of us and smiled. “Have I bored you to tears yet?”
“No!” Sam and I said simultaneously.
“That’s good. All right,” Peter said. “William Cahill wrote this letter to his brother, John as a kind of insurance policy for himself. He tells the story of how young James Fletcher and Isaac Budd both died at the Battle of Antietam.”
Peter paused to sip more water. Then he continued.
“Antietam was the bloodiest, single-day battle in American history. The 6th Wisconsin Infantry was in the thick of it. The Union Army was on one side of a large cornfield owned by David Miller. The Confederates were on the other side. Commanders ordered the Union soldiers to advance against the Rebel army and the 6th Wisconsin was at the front of the advance. They climbed a fence, moved across some open land, and pushed into the cornfield. They were parallel to Hagerstown Pike which was a road.”
“Three companies were on the right side of the road and came under heavy fire from Rebel soldiers in the woods to their right. The companies on the left in the cornfield were ordered to lie down on the ground. Thick waves of bullets hit the corn and shells exploded all around them. Bullets and shell fragments killed some of the men.”
“More soldiers advanced through the cornfield. The 6th Wisconsin joined them. At the edge of the cornfield, there was a low rail fence. Beyond the fence were open fields, woods and a small church. When the Union soldiers reached the edge of the cornfield, the rebels rose from the ground in the distance and all sides started firing. Soldiers were hit where they stood, but the 6th Wisconsin jumped the fence and advanced. They fired and reloaded as they advanced. A New York regiment advanced with the 6th Wisconsin.”
“Then the advance stopped, and all of the men retreated back toward the cornfield, dropping to the ground behind the fence. More men from the 6th Wisconsin emerged from the cornfield and they all advanced again. From the Cahill letter, we know that Silas Fletcher, James Fletcher, William Cahill, and Isaac Budd were all toward the front of the advance. The Rebels turned and ran. When the 6th Wisconsin made it halfway to the church, a long line of Rebels swept down through the woods. The Rebels fired and waves of our men fell. The Union soldiers on the field turned and ran for the fence and then back into the cornfield.”
“However, during the retreat James Fletcher, Silas Fle
tcher, Isaac Budd, and William Cahill were now at the rear of the retreating soldiers. James Fletcher was shot in the back of his head and went down. Silas stopped to help James, but his brother was dead. William Cahill and Isaac Budd pulled Silas up and practically dragged him off the field. They reached the fence and ran into the cornfield, with Isaac in the lead.”
Peter paused. “When they got deeper into the cornfield, Silas shot Isaac Budd in the back and killed him.”
“He…what?” I asked, shocked.
Peter nodded sadly. “Silas had grown increasingly angry at both Isaac and his father, Ephraim. Ephraim was the reason they were in the infantry and as a result, his brother, James, had been killed. I think Silas just snapped out of anger and grief.”
“Oh my God, Silas Fletcher is an icon to the Fletcher family and to Mystic Grove. They’d be devastated to hear this,” I said. Both Peter and Martha nodded.
“Nobody saw him shoot Isaac?” asked Sam.
Peter shook his head. “Only William Cahill, who was running behind Silas. William stopped to roll Isaac over but he was dead. You have to imagine a thick cornfield taller than the soldiers. The vast majority of the men were ahead of them. Soldiers ran down separate rows of corn. Gun smoke and haze filled the air. Cannons were booming, men shouting, and Rebel gunfire behind them. It was chaos.”
“Then what happened?” Sam asked.
“Silas knew William had seen him kill Isaac. On the later retreat back to the Potomac River, he told William it was justice. Ephraim and Isaac were the source of all their misery. Silas also warned William to keep his mouth shut. If he did, then after the War, Silas would give him a share of a treasure he had taken from a dead farmer while foraging earlier in the War. He had hidden the treasure and planned to get it after the War ended. William was afraid and agreed.”
My mouth dropped open. “The Fletcher Treasure! It’s real? I’ve heard about that since we were kids!”
Sam’s eyebrows pulled together. “What’s the Fletcher Treasure?”
“It’s an old story that said one of the Fletcher boys came home from the Civil War with some sort of treasure. Some thought it was the oldest brother because he left Mystic Grove after he returned from the War,” I said.
