When Beef Jerky Met Cherries Jubilee

by Lee Pulaski

  “Trust me, Newell. I know what I’m doing.” Zachary dialed the phone. “I think I’m going to go big this time.”

  “CNN Wisconsin newsroom. This is Darlene Mertz.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Mertz. I live in Gresham, where that horrible incident with the Reimers occurred. I was walking down the street and saw your reporter at the art gallery. By chance, are you looking for Anne Marie White Eagle?”

  “Yes. We believe she knows something about the deaths, since she was featuring the couple at her gallery. Do you know how we can reach her?”

  “Well, I do. She’s out at the Reimer homestead. The police are questioning her at this moment. They think she knows something about the whereabouts of that Sajen what’s-his-face.”

  “Good heavens. I’ll let our reporter know right away. Thank you for the tip.”

  “I’ve always loved your media company the most, because you reflect the true views of the people. Praise be to Hillary. Good bye.” After setting the phone down and seeing Newell and Alexander’s reactions, Zachary shrugged. “What?”

  “You’re certifiably nuts. You know that?” Newell said.

  “Probably, but if Anne Marie’s found something suspicious, I owe it to her to help figure things out. We just have to wait for the reporters to leave, and then I’ll run over there really quick and be back in plenty of time to close up the store.”

  Alexander looked at Newell. “It’s like witnessing a train wreck. You know you shouldn’t look, but yet you can’t turn your eyes away.”

  Zachary grabbed his coat and put it on, keeping one eye looking across the street. It took a couple of minutes, but sure enough, the reporters hurried to their news vans and left—all except the local Fox reporter.

  Zachary bit his lip. “Okay, I guess the plan had one tiny flaw.”

  “That’s what you get for reaching out and touching someone one too many times,” Newell said with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

  Alexander stood up. “All right, Zach. You’ve done your amateur shtick long enough. Time to turn this circus over to a professional. Can I borrow your boyfriend for a few minutes?”

  Zachary wasn’t sure what Alexander had up his sleeve. “Ooooookay.”

  Alexander grabbed his coat from behind the counter. “Newell, could you go outside and start walking down the sidewalk? I’ll be along in a sec.”

  Newell shrugged. “Okey dokey.”

  After giving Newell a ten-second head start, Alexander hurried out the front door after him. “Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you, you son-of-a-bitch! I’m not done yelling at you for your lying, cheating ways. Tell me about that slut boy you’ve been seeing. What’s his name? Zachary?”

  Zachary, who was standing outside watching, winced, knowing full well he had that coming. He noticed Newell looked confused for a moment, but he immediately seemed to gain composure.

  “You know what? You’re nuts! You know you’re the only one I love, but there’s no reasoning with you when you turn into this jealous little boy bitch!”

  “Boy bitch? Why don’t you say that to my face, you horny, teeny weenie freak!”

  “At least you can see mine. Maybe if you took off that shimmering Mormon body suit once in a while, I’d be satisfied enough to come home at night!”

  Zachary glanced back at the gallery. Sure enough, the Fox reporter seemed to be interested in the faux squabble taking place. After Newell and Alexander hurled a few more insults at each other and Alexander went sobbing down the other way, the reporter and his camera crew gave chase. The window was open, but Zachary knew he had to hurry.

  Anne Marie was waiting at the door to the gallery. “Zach, I heard yelling. What was going on?”

  “Oh, I guess Alexander’s pregnant, and he thinks Newell’s the father.”

  Anne Marie did a double take as she closed and locked the door. “Well, whatever it is, I love you all for your help in my time of need. Come into the main hall, and I’ll show you what I discovered.” She walked to the wall where the Jasper Walters painting had been hanging and pointed up. “Do you see what I see?”

  “I see a couple of hooks that hold up the painting. What am I missing?”

  “Brand new, right? They practically glisten.”

  “Yes, they’re very nice. I still don’t get it.”

  “When the painting fell last night, one of the hooks was still attached, but it had broken from the base at the wall. I haven’t done anything to the wall since the painting fell, so…”

  Zachary realized. “So where did the new hooks come from?”

  “And what happened to the hook that was left behind, not to mention the broken piece?”

  “Someone else has been in here, then.”

  Anne Marie made a gesture around the room. “I’ve been here alone all day, so someone must have been here before, either in the morning or after I locked up last night.”

  “Have you hired anyone to help you out here?”

  Anne Marie shook her head. “I wanted to see how this first exhibit went before I planned for additional employees. I contracted to have some temps put up the current paintings, but that was only for a couple of days, and I’ve gotten all the keys back since then.”

  “Are there any signs of a break-in?”

  “Not that I could see. However, I think the hooks that were in the walls last night were put in by the same person. When I went to the painting, I noticed that the broken hook was rusted. I put in new hooks a couple of weeks ago, knowing Jasper’s painting was coming.”

  Zachary rubbed his chin as he looked at the new hooks. “So someone deliberately set up that painting to fall. The question is who would do that? Is it someone with a grudge against Osgood and Muriel? Jasper Walters? You?”

  “Definitely unsettling. Regardless of who was the target of the grudge, the casualty is the gallery."

  “Anne Marie, with respect, I think the Reimers might have been the target, considering they’re now dead, which is the biggest tragedy.”

  “I haven’t forgotten that fact, Zach, and even if I did, I have reporters peeping through the keyhole to remind me.”

  “It’s a shame you don’t have ownership of the sidewalk. If you did, the sheriff’s deputies could arrest them for trespassing.”

  Anne Marie smiled. “I definitely did not anticipate any of this when I decided to open an art gallery. Why couldn’t I have just opened a speakeasy or something simpler?”

  Zachary’s cell phone jingled in his pocket. The caller ID said Newell. “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey. The reporter from Fox isn’t taking the bait anymore and is heading back to the gallery. You might want to make tracks.”

  “Got it. Thanks.” Zachary put his phone back in his pocket. “I’d better get going, Anne Marie. I’ll give you a call in a little while.”

  “Thanks, Zach. I’m so glad I can count on you.” Anne Marie waved as Zachary slipped out the front door.

  Zachary hurried back to The Literary Barn and slipped inside just as the Fox reporter came into sight. As he heaved a sigh of relief while hopping on a stool, Newell and Alexander returned through the back door.

  “Well, well, well.” Zachary smiled and folded his arms. “If it isn’t the dysfunctional couple. Should I step out so you two can be alone?”

  “No, but you can be my best man at our wedding, you sarcastic dweeb. So what was the hubbub at the gallery?” Newell asked as he leaned on the counter.

  “Apparently someone tampered with the hooks that held up Jasper Walters’ painting and replaced them with new ones sometime after the gallery closed last night.”

  “Who else would have keys to the gallery besides Anne Marie?”

  “According to her, no one.”

  Newell furrowed his eyebrows, which meant he was suspicious. Zachary couldn’t blame him.

  “I can’t figure out who would want to kill Muriel and Osgood,” Newell said as he washed the last dish from dinner. “I remember meeting them when I was nine. My g
randparents had invited them to the farm for dinner, and they talked all night about how to season jerky just right and which cherries made for the tastiest pies.”

  “Well, when you think about it, not everyone who is killed has visible enemies,” Zachary said as he dried another dish with a towel. “Remember, everybody loved Thad Sheppard because he played an adorable seven-foot teddy bear, but it turned out he had plenty of people who despised him, but because they kept to the shadows, nobody knew until after he’d been killed.”

  Newell sighed. “I’m just so tired of people around here leaving this world before their proper time. It’s no wonder Jacob Malueg is always eager to quash new and exciting things. They always seem to be followed by a murder or three.”

  Zachary frowned. It was odd for Newell to be the pessimist. “Newell, is there something else going on? You really seem to be taking this personally.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the winter doldrums getting me down, but it seems like this constant cloud is hovering over Gresham. I mean, you expect some crime and a touch of mayhem, but it seems lately like all the good things around this village are getting trampled on.”

  “I can see how you feel that way in light of what happened with the gallery, but you’ve got to remember a lot of other good things have occurred without someone getting killed, maimed or cursed with locusts. Sigrid’s transition from a diner to a supper club seems to be a rousing success. The Lonesome Pine Ballroom seems to be ready to roll now that all the renovation work is finished. My bookstore is holding its own with the new expansion, and I’m expecting my foot traffic to really expand once winter is over. Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that you and I moved in together in a brand new farmhouse. Newell, there’s a lot of good in Gresham. You’ll see it again at some point.” Zachary took Newell’s hand and gently squeezed.

  Newell smiled. “How did I ever function in life without you? If you weren’t here right now, I might be depressed enough to drink.”

  Zachary chuckled. “I remember what happens when you drink, Texas boy. I might break out my camera if you do and use the photographic evidence against you at a later date.”

  “Noted.” Newell glanced out the window. “It looks like another snowstorm is going to be coming through. Good thing neither of us has to be at work in the morning.”

  “You know, I always enjoy snow when you don’t have to be somewhere.”

  “It is pretty, as long as you don’t have to drive roads that are covered in it. I especially like the fact that we remembered to bring in plenty of firewood, so we don’t have to spend a lot of time out in the cold.”

  “Sounds like you’re ready for a warm, cozy evening.” Zachary put the last dish in the cupboard. “I can certainly live with that. What should we do now?”

  “I was going to settle down with a good book. What were you thinking of doing?”

  “I was going to turn on some music and work on the bookstore’s website a little bit.”

  Zachary turned on the radio and set the dial on a country station. He sat on the couch with his laptop when something out the window caught his eye. It was nighttime, but yet there seemed to be a ball of light out there. Zachary inched over by the window and noticed the light seemed to be coming from the barn.

  “Sweetheart, did you turn out all the lights in the barn when you finished feeding?”

  Newell nodded as he read his book. “Yes, I did. Why, is there something wrong, Zach?”

  “I see a light coming from the barn, and I wasn’t sure if you had just forgot or it was…”

  Toby jumped on the couch next to Zachary and growled. Zachary recognized the growl as a warning that a stranger was near. The growl caught Newell’s attention, too. He immediately closed the book he was reading and stood up. Zachary put his laptop on the table in front of him and pulled back the curtain for an unimpeded look outside. He could see movement in the barn.

  “Newell, there’s somebody out in the barn,” Zachary said as he hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a flashlight out of the junk drawer.

  “How can you tell?” Newell was on the move, too, pulling a rifle out of the front hall closet.

  “I could see movement, so unless your horses and chickens have learned to play cards and are having a wild canasta game out there, we’ve got an intruder.” Zachary grabbed his winter coat and put it on. “Who the hell could be all the way out here in the middle of a snowstorm?”

  Newell slipped on his coat. “Whoever it is, they’re in a lot of trouble for messing up our nice, quiet evening at home. I’m either going to shoot someone in the butt or throw them down a snow covered hill and see if they turn into a snowball.”

  Zachary smiled in spite of his apprehension, glad that Newell was able to maintain a shred of his sense of humor at a time like this. “Think we should call the sheriff’s department?”

  Newell shook his head as he slid his snow cap on. “With the weather and how remote we are, it’ll take a while for them to get here. We’ll go check it out. I think the two of us can take on one person without the long arm of the law backing us up.”

  “Assuming it is one person,” Zachary said as he adjusted his cap. He stopped when he realized how real the possibility was there was more than one person out there, but what did they want, and why were they out there now in the worst possible conditions?

  Toby marched over to the front door, but Zachary shooed him away. As much as he trusted his loyal canine to protect him, he didn’t want to take the chance that the intruder would hurt Toby. If that were to happen, there was no telling what Zachary would do.

  Zachary and Newell slowly crept toward the barn, the crunching snow making it difficult to keep their approach silent. As they approached the perimeter, Zachary turned off the flashlight, with the inside light providing enough illumination to show him and Newell what was happening. Newell gave Zachary a nod, indicating to him to open the barn door wider than the crack it was standing at now. Zachary nodded back to show he understood, and with his free hand shoved the barn door open. Newell hurried in with his rifle at the ready. There wasn’t anyone visible on the main floor, but it was hard to see into the hay loft.

  “All right, whoever you are!” Newell bellowed. “You’ve got about ten seconds to come out of hiding before I come looking for you, and keep in mind that I might shoot first and ask questions later!”

  After about five seconds, some hay started to move in the loft. A pair of hands appeared, and then the rest of the intruder emerged. It was Sajen, the young artist that Zachary and Newell had met during the reception.

  “Please don’t hurt me. I was just looking for a place to stay the night.”

  Newell lowered his rifle. “If you don’t mean us any harm, we won’t cause you harm. Now, would you like to explain exactly how you got out here and why you’re here?”

  “Certainly, sir.” Sajen sat on the steps leading to the loft. “I’m here because the sheriff’s department is after me. They think I murdered Rose’s grandparents.”

  Zachary looked at Newell, who was biting his lip, and knew that they’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest. It was bad enough dealing with a trespasser, but now Zachary and Newell were possibly in hot water for harboring a fugitive. What had started out as a quiet night with a peaceful snow falling out had now turned into a blizzard of trouble.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Zachary walked from the kitchen to the living room, two cups of steaming hot cocoa in his hands. He gave one to Newell and the other to Sajen, who was wrapped up in a blanket but still shivering from the cold outside. After retrieving a third cup of cocoa for himself, he sat down in his easy chair.

  “All right, Sajen. Why don’t we start from the beginning? What happened?”

  “Rose, my girlfriend, called me all panicked this morning. She told me she’d gone into her grandparents’ bedroom to inform them she was leaving and going out on her own when she saw them dead on their bed. She said it looked like her grandfather shot her grandmother and
then shot himself. I hurried over on my bicycle, but sheriff’s deputies were already at the scene, and this one detective, I think his name was Josh Callahan, started asking all these questions about last night at the gallery, when we got into that argument.”

  Zachary nodded. “We remember it vividly.”

  “Well, this detective claimed it was a pretty solid motive for murder and that he was planning to take me into Shawano for a more detailed interrogation. A deputy distracted him with some news that there was some piece of evidence that had been found, and I took that moment to get out of there.”

  “And no one chased after you?”

  “I know Gresham better than most folks. There are plenty of places to hide, but I knew after a while I needed to get out of the area. I waited until dark and started riding my bike toward the rez. However, I saw a sheriff’s deputy ahead on County Road G with some motorist, and I knew I’d better lay low and wait out the storm. Your barn was closest to the road, so I headed for it.”

  Zachary bit his lip as he pondered what Sajen had just said. It was typical for Joshua to arrest first and gather evidence later, but Zachary found it odd that he hadn’t sent deputies out after Sajen had bolted. There was definitely more going on.

  “Sajen, are you saying there weren’t patrol vehicles looking for you specifically? From personal experience, I know that once Josh sinks his teeth into something, it can be a real struggle to get him to let go. Do you think he might have been trying to scare you in the hopes that you might confess something?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me, but it’s usually not good odds for an Indian to be accused of something. Guilt seems to be less of a factor when it comes to persecuting and prosecuting minorities.”

  “I can understand why you feel that way, Sajen, but I’ve never known Josh to make rash judgments based on race. He definitely jumps to poor conclusions, but that’s because of stupidity, not bigotry.”

  “He might not, but someone else with the sheriff’s department might make that judgment call. You have no idea what it’s like to be persecuted.”