by H R Jones
The Bodies of Star Farm
f the Buckton police force, drove his squad straight onto the field next to where he saw the men, staring slack jawed, at whatever it was hanging from the iron fingers of the backhoe. He immediately called for backup.
When he neared the eerie tableau in front of him, his stomach lurched, as he realized what he and the others were seeing. It appeared to be the remains of a woman’s body dangling from the scoop’s prong. He knew it was a woman by the shredded material hanging off the skeletal remains. It was all that was left of what had once been a dress. The hair, which appeared to have once been blonde, hung around the shoulder bones in macabre wisps, the skeletal mouth frozen in a ghoulish, perpetual grin. There was a glint of something. It appeared to be coming from the area of the mouth. It looked like a piece of glass, caught between what was left of the teeth, reflecting back at them in the morning sun.
After the lieutenant introduced himself to the foreman and his men, he explained he’d need to take a statement from the driver of the backhoe.
The men were visibly torn up by what they’d seen. They tried to look away, but couldn’t; it was all too surreal.
After taking the driver’s information, the why, how, and where he’d been digging, Grutner said they could leave the immediate area, but not the property.
Another wail of sirens could be heard all up and down the county roads. Lights flashing like Christmas trees, tires squealed as they careened around corners, throwing gravel as they slid to a stop on the shoulder, and the lawmen poured out of their vehicles.
Officer Harry Turner, State Patrol, and his partner Biff Hughes strode up to the lieutenant standing near the backhoe’s shovel.
“Well, well, what do we have here, Lieutenant?” Turner asked, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.
John noticed the smirk on Turner’s face.
“Good to see you too, Harry,” he said, with some sarcasm of his own and a nod.
“Biff,” he said, shaking hands with his professional counterpart.
“Well Harry, I have a feeling we may have just found Margo Schwartz.”
The Bodies of Star Farm
H. R. Jones
A Wings ePress, Inc.
Crime Novel
Edited by: Jeanne Smith
Copy Edited by: Joan C. Powell
Executive Editor: Jeanne Smith
Cover Artist: Trisha FitzGerald-Jung
All rights reserved
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Wings ePress Books
Copyright © 2019: H. R. Jones
ISBN 978-1-61309-372-6
Published In the United States Of America
Wings ePress Inc.
3000 N. Rock Road
Newton, KS 67114
Dedication
To Sherry Derr-Wille, who has tirelessly pushed me forward. Friend, mentor and fellow author.
Prologue
Rory Star, owner of Star Farm, was a handsome man with dark curly shoulder length hair,
piercing brown eyes and a wicked smile. His reputation was that of a tom cat on the prowl. The young women of the area were drawn to him like a moth to the proverbial flame. He wined and dined them. There were some who disappeared from the Buckton, Wisconsin area without a trace.
Rumors abounded as to what may have happened to them. Some folks believed they had gone to the big city or Europe, to get away from small town Wisconsin. Others thought it odd and believed something more sinister had happened.
There’d been whispers among the locals concerning the temper Rory possessed. He was a breeder and trainer of the finest horse flesh around. Although his training was coveted by horse breeders around the U.S., some who knew him best reported at times he was cruel with his own stock.
Recently there had been no sign of Rory Star anywhere in the area. There’d been no complaints from area women, no sign of his old black Buick, or even his horses, for several years. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air.
Some folks speculated he’d hidden money somewhere, fled the country, and was living the high life on St. Lucia, Palau, in the Italian Alps, or any number of other exotic places.
There were others who swore they’d seen him driving through town on dark starless nights, looking for pretty young women to seduce.
Others hoped he’d finally met his Waterloo.
Whatever his fate, Rory Star no longer had a home to return to in Buckton.
One
The once beautiful estate known as Star Farm, with lush pastures, woods and streams, had become an eye sore on the landscape. It was finally put on the auction block. Even though his father had left Rory the property free and clear, in order to subsidize his lifestyle, he’d mortgaged the ranch to the hilt. When Rory Star failed to pay his mortgage and was delinquent paying his taxes, the bank foreclosed. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money.
The house was in much need of repair to the roof, the masonry, and siding. The out buildings were so badly deteriorated they looked as if they would crumble. Vermin inhabited the once beautiful horse barn with its stalls constructed of highly polished cherry wood, with brass fittings and a cement floor. To Ennis Star, a proud old gentleman, the estate and everything about it was his pride and joy. Having only one child, he built his empire to pass on to future generations.
Rory and his father had built an office within the barn. It was there they would wheel and deal for prime horse flesh, hold meetings, and keep files of horse lineage, trophies, ribbons and pictures of prize horses they’d sold and/or trained throughout the years. It was equipped with air conditioning for the heat of the summer months, and there was a small pot belly wood burning stove, so they could work even on the coldest of days.
Several farmers within the community would have liked to purchase the old Star place, but few could even afford the recommended opening bid. So the old men came, thumbs tucked into the straps of their manure-scented, old overalls, and watched as a new breed of farmer, in clean smelling, brand name togs, lifted their voices in hope of out-bidding the others of their ilk for this prime piece of real estate.
~ * ~
Star Farms was purchased by a conglomerate, their intention being to build a huge dairy farm which would house over 2000 head of prime milking stock, equipped with the latest technology and equipment. It would also be providing work for many area residents. The herd would create massive quantities of milk like the old timers could never have envisioned, and of course, along with it came tons of waste, which created a whole other problem and/or industry. This new enterprise would devour much of the land lying fallow and abandoned on what was once Star Farm. There would also be a fertilizer plant built on the acreage. It would turn manure into top-grade fertilizer that would bring a high price on the open market.
~ * ~
The first order of business for the new owners of Star Farm would be clearing the fields, ridding them of fallen and/or dead trees which lay in the way of progress, especially along the tree and fence lines. There would be massive out buildings and open air barns erected on this land, so every bit of space would be needed.
It was on the third day of clearing the land. Several downed trees were hampering the work of the backhoe when something became entangled in the scoop’s tines.
The driver hopped down from the cab to take a closer look at what was impeding the shovel from pulling roots from the ground. He thought, at first, he was looking at tree roots. As he moved in closer, however, he could see it wasn’t any kind of vegetation at all.
His yell was enough to raise the dead, which was exactly what he’d just done, in a manner of speaking. The foreman and some other fellows who’d been clearing an area nearby, came at a dead run to the driver’s aid, thinking he’d been hurt.
They all stood, mouths agape, motionless, as they tried to work out what it was they were looking at hanging from one of the thick forks of the backhoe.
Mack Dole, the foreman, raced to his truck, got on the radio and called dispatch to get help from the local authorities. Before he got back to the grisly scene hanging from the fingers of the scoop, sirens already could be heard screaming on the crisp morning air.
~ * ~
Lieutenant John Grutner of the Buckton police force, drove his squad straight onto the field next to where he saw the men, staring slack jawed, at whatever it was hanging from the iron fingers of the backhoe. He immediately called for backup.
When he neared the eerie tableau in front of him, his stomach lurched, as he realized what he and the others were seeing. It appeared to be the remains of a woman’s body dangling from the scoop’s prong. He knew it was a woman by the shredded material hanging off the skeletal remains. It was all that was left of what had once been a dress. The hair, which appeared to have once been blonde, hung around the shoulder bones in macabre wisps, the skeletal mouth frozen in a ghoulish, perpetual grin. There was a glint of something. It appeared to be coming from the area of the mouth. It looked like a piece of glass, caught between what was left of the teeth, reflecting back at them in the morning sun.
After the lieutenant introduced himself to the foreman and his men, he explained he’d need to take a statement from the driver of the backhoe.
The men were visibly torn up by what they’d seen. They tried to look away, but couldn’t; it was all too surreal.
After taking the driver’s information, the why, how, and where he’d been digging, Grutner said they could leave the immediate area, but not the property.
Another wail of sirens could be heard all up and down the county roads. Lights flashing like Christmas trees, tires squealed as they careened around corners, throwing gravel as they slid to a stop on the shoulder, and the lawmen poured out of their vehicles.
Officer Harry Turner, State Patrol, and his partner Biff Hughes strode up to the lieutenant standing near the backhoe’s shovel.
“Well, well, what do we have here, Lieutenant?” Turner asked, sarcasm dripping from his mouth.
John noticed the smirk on Turner’s face.
“Good to see you too, Harry,” he said, with some sarcasm of his own and a nod.
“Biff,” he said, shaking hands with his professional counterpart.
“Well Harry, I have a feeling we may have just found Margo Schwartz.”
He saw a serious look come over his friend’s face as he straightened, and took a closer look at the remains.
“What makes you think that, John?”
“Well, I’m no expert, and I haven’t studied forensics, but I’d say from what’s visible on the remains there, number one, it’s definitely a woman, and two, it very well could be Margo. She’s been missing long enough. Did you notice there appears to be something caught in her teeth?”
“I dunno, maybe it’s just a piece of mica off the rocks.”
He could tell Harry was doing some rough calculations.
“Yeah, you’re right, it does kinda look like it could be a woman, doesn’t it? Do you think this is where she’s been ever since we went looking for her that day you had me help you ‘break in’ her house?” he said teasingly.
“Yup, I do, but until we get a DNA match and such, we won’t be able to say for sure.”
Stepping in for a closer look-see, Harry commented, “You’re right John, there does indeed seem to be something caught in her teeth. It looks like it could be a piece of some sort of jewelry?”
Just then the ambulance pulled up beside them in the field. Merv Jackson, County Coroner, hopped out. He stuck out his hand to the three men and with an impish grin asked, “Whatcha’ got here, fellas?”
“I’m not positive, Merv, but I think this could be the late Margo Schwartz.”
“Okay, I’ll have my crime boys take some pictures, then we can cut her down. It won’t be till I get her back to the morgue, I’ll be able to see what information I can glean from the remains. It won’t be until I finish my exam that we’ll discover if you’re right about it being Margo Schwartz.”
“Merv, make sure you check to see what that is in her mouth.”
John turned to the others. “Okay, look guys, would you all stick around for a little longer? I have a strong hunch this isn’t the last of the bodies we’ll be finding here, lying beneath the fields of Star Farm today.”
Two
Margo Huntington-Littlefield-McNair-Oleson-Schwartz went through men like a hot knife through butter.
She’d finally given up on marriage after husband number four, Milo Schwartz, died suddenly while big game hunting in Wyoming. She was left with nothing for comfort in her time of sorrow, with the exception of Milo’s sizable bank account.
Margo and her mother had one thing in common: men and bleached blond hair.
Her mother, Ida Mae Cash, had let herself go. She was a plump frumpy woman who seemed to have her bleached, straw-like hair perpetually in curlers. She was thrice divorced, but it didn’t stop her from looking for number four. She liked even numbers.
Ida May could be found most every day at a local casino. It was one of the few places she could knock back booze and suck on cigarettes all day long. She was addicted to both. The ‘one-armed bandit’ was her only friend.
Unlike her mother, Margo went to great, and some would say extreme lengths, to look attractive and stylish, after a fashion.
Margo’s addiction, men, was far less costly than her mother’s—booze, slots, and cigarettes—and certainly more lucrative. After Milo’s death, even though she could afford the best fashion of the day, Margo lost her sense of style and decorum. She inevitably chose outfits mostly worn by women half her age and of a questionable profession. Her clothing was either too tight, too short and/or too revealing. Margo began overdoing everything, from her excessive use of eyeliner, mascara, and blood-red lipstick, her signature look, in order to attract men.
The men she attracted since Milo’s tragic death, were those who appreciated her ‘assets,’ and her reputation for being generous with them, more than for herself. Her male companions weren’t aware of her newfound wealth, and frankly could have cared less had they known. It wasn’t money they were interested in.
One of her gentleman friends, who’d been an on-again, off-again companion over the years, was the town bad boy, Rory Star.
Three
Bill Littlefield was Margo’s first husband. They’d been high school sweethearts in the fifties, and married as soon as they graduated.
The teen couple had a close call during their high school courtship. As careful as they thought they’d been, the night of the Junior Prom they’d crossed the line. It was a scary month of May for them as they contemplated what they would do if indeed Margo were pregnant. The scare made them realize how much it could mess up their lives, and they vowed to be more careful, and not to forget what could happen if they had a baby to raise.
Bill apprenticed at the local foundry located at the edge of town, all through high school. He was a hard worker. So, as soon as he graduated, the foundry hired him on for full time work. For a young fellow, he worked just as hard as any man who’d been at the foundry for years. He was anxious to take Margo as his wife and start a family.
Margo was an excellent stenographer, who worked weekends and summers during high school at a local car dealership.
When Bill heard
the owner of the foundry, Mr. Collins, was looking for a good private secretary, he encouraged Margo to apply. It would be a full time position and the pay was more per week than Margo made in a month at the dealership. So, within a few weeks of graduating, she too was employed by the foundry. She was excited Bill and she would, sort of, be together all day, every day.
Their wedding was the event of the year. Everyone who was anyone in Buckton was invited. It was a fun evening for all when the reception got going full swing. The little combo band they’d danced to in high school, was the same one they danced to on their wedding night.
The newlyweds could hardly wait to be alone. Since their scare in their junior year, they’d been chaste.
After Bill finished his apprenticeship, he was able to pull a very good salary as a molder. So between the two of them, they had a very nice income. Pulling good salaries, they were able to scrape together enough money for a down payment on a little fixer-upper, just on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t fancy and needed a lot of work, but they loved it. It was their house. They poured their hearts and souls into fixing it up.
Margo and Bill were happily married for several years, until the day of the horrible foundry fire and Bill’s tragic death. It turned out there’d been a problem with a piece of equipment he’d been working with. Upon investigation, it was determined it was faulty and hadn’t been installed properly.
As a result of the negligence, Margo received a generous settlement, not only from the manufacturer of the defective piece, but the foundry as well.
They’d been so in love. There was no amount of money to be given which would fill the hole his death left in her life and heart.
~ * ~
It was several months after Bill’s tragic death that Margo first met the beguiling Rory Star. He was handsome, polished, liked women, and was wealthy.
Margo was in McNulty’s Bar one evening, trying to drown her sorrows, when Rory approached her and asked her to dance. They spent the rest of the evening at McNulty’s drinking and busting some moves on the dance floor.
