Dead Wrong

by Vannetta Chapman

  “So Russell Dixon found that the buggy was out of compliance. He reported back to the insurance company. I’d like to get a copy of that report and see what else he found.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “Someone wanted him dead. We need to prove it wasn’t you.”

  “The entire idea is ludicrous. For the sake of argument, say I was angry about Dixon’s investigation. How would killing him solve anything? The report had already been filed.”

  “People kill for different reasons—revenge, passion, even money.”

  “We’re pacifists,” Jonas reminded him. “Agatha had no reason to seek revenge. She didn’t harbor particularly strong feelings about the case, though no doubt she was grieving the death of Samuel and Deborah. As for the money, she didn’t need it.”

  Tony didn’t respond to that immediately. He tucked his notepad and pen back in his pocket and then studied the three people waiting on his reply. “For lack of interest, the case was dropped. Then ten months later Dixon shows up at your Bed-and-Breakfast and is killed.”

  “How do those two things fit together?” Agatha once again sat down beside him. “Or could it be coincidence?”

  “I have no idea,” Tony answered honestly. “But we’re going to find out, Agatha. One way or another, I promise you that we will figure this thing out. You’ve been through enough this past year. I’m not going to let Bannister bully you just because he wants another solved case on his resume. One way or another, we’re going to find Russell Dixon’s killer.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jonas and Minerva left, and Agatha led Tony outside where the Coopers were once again resting under the shade of the trees that bordered the river.

  Tony apologized for disturbing them, but unlike the Willises the night before, neither Jasmine nor Xavier seemed bothered by his questions.

  Jasmine went over what she’d seen in the early morning hours before the murder.

  “And you’re sure it was Dixon?”

  “I’d seen him leaving his cabin the day before. If it wasn’t the same man, he must have stolen Dixon’s clothes.” Jasmine tried to pass if off as a joke.

  Tony waited. He didn’t laugh or even smile. He wanted to see if she would add anything else.

  Finally, she said, “Yes. I’m sure it was him.”

  “All right. And Xavier, you told Agatha that you were filling the hydration packs in the bathroom and didn’t see anything?”

  “Correct.”

  Tony pulled out a small pad of paper and pretended to stare at the notes. It was a stalling technique. He didn’t need to look at notes to see what he’d written on the sheet of paper. Finally, he put his finger on a line of writing and glanced up. “I’m just curious...”

  “About?”

  “Why you’d need to fill your packs when other guests reported seeing you filling them at the water hose outside, earlier that afternoon when you came back from hiking. Why would you need to fill them again the next morning?”

  A flicker of anger passed over Xavier’s eyes, flashed so quickly that Tony might have imagined it.

  “You got me. Gosh, I guess it’s a good thing they’re not looking at us for the murder.” No one laughed, and Xavier crossed his arms. “You’re right. I did fill them the night before. I’d completely forgotten that. But I was still in the bathroom when Jasmine was looking out the window. I was getting ready for the hike.”

  Xavier and Jasmine exchanged a look, but neither added to the story.

  Tony smiled and slapped his pad shut, sticking it back in his shirt pocket. “I knew there was a logical explanation.”

  The young couple seemed to relax.

  “Xavier isn’t used to getting up so early. I’m surprised he can remember what he did at all.”

  “Plus all this fresh air and sunshine is messing with my brain.” He laughed and pulled Jasmine closer to his side, draping his arm around her shoulders.

  They stayed a few more minutes, then began to yawn in an exaggerated way, and finally excused themselves, saying they were going to take a late morning nap.

  Agatha turned to Tony as soon as the couple had passed out of earshot. “What was that about?”

  Tony shook his head and put a finger to his lips. Agatha’s eyes widened, but she held her questions.

  Standing, Tony asked, “Care to walk down by the river?”

  Now? She mouthed.

  He nodded, so she said, “Actually I’d love that. Being stuck in an interview room all day yesterday has left me somewhat restless.”

  They walked side by side down the gravel path, past the cabins, to the banks of the Guadalupe. The day seemed to Tony like something from his childhood—an endless blue sky, temperatures warm enough for shorts and a t-shirt, and the water of the Guadalupe sparkling as it hurried by.

  Agatha waited until they were at the banks of the river to ask in a shushed voice, “Care to share what that was about?”

  Instead of answering her, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “They were lying to us.”

  “You mean about the hydration pack things? But that...”

  “If someone lies about the little things, they’ll lie about the bigger things.”

  “Or perhaps he really did forget that he’d filled the hydration packs the day before.”

  “And perhaps Jasmine never saw Dixon on the Cox’s porch.”

  “But why would they lie?”

  “I don’t know. But I plan to find out. Let’s talk again about this footprint you and Gina found.”

  She seemed to hesitate before admitting, “It could be nothing.”

  “I thought so too, but this investigation has changed since we talked about it last. It’s important not to discount small things or pass them off as coincidence. Sometimes the most minute details can point to something bigger.”

  “Like finding a single puzzle piece can open up a whole new section of the jigsaw.”

  “Exactly.”

  She recounted the events of the previous evening when she and Gina had found the footprint. Tony listened carefully and even wrote a few notes. He was about to ask how she was holding up when the peacefulness of the morning was shattered by the sound of gunshot.

  “That way,” He pointed around the bend of the river. They jogged around the corner and skidded to a stop.

  The Cox brothers stood knee deep in water. Both held pistols.

  “What are you two doing?”

  Instead of answering, they slapped at their waders and scrambled out of the water. Once they were on the bank, both dropped their guns on the ground, stripped out of their waders and continued to slap at their swimsuits.

  “Problem?” Tony asked.

  “Water moccasin.” Mason continued to hop from foot to foot as if the snake might appear if he stood still. “I think I shot him, but there could be more.”

  “You shot at a snake while standing in a river? Where were you even keeping your gun?”

  Instead of answering that, Paxton said, “He was coming straight at me. Man. That was a rush.”

  “You two aren’t from around here, are you?”

  Agatha had her hands on her hips and a look on her face that reminded Tony of a storm coming. He hadn’t yet seen her lose her temper, but he had a feeling he was about to.

  “Where are your fishing rods?” She walked around them in a circle, as if fly rods might magically appear.

  “Umm...”

  “Why are you fishing here? I’ve told you more than once that most of my guests catch fish around the bend, in the shadows. And why are you shooting things on my property?”

  Mason had the grace to look sheepish. “There was a snake, Agatha. Honest.”

  Agatha stomped over to Paxton, picked up his waders, shook them, and handed them back to him. “Nothing in these.”

  She did the same with Mason’s while Tony watched on.

  “Empty. Why would you think it’s okay to shoot something on my property? I realize Texas is an open-
carry state, but this is where I live. We have guests here.”

  Neither of the Cox brothers had an answer for that. They glanced at one another and seemed to silently agree that the best course of action would be to remain silent.

  By the time they’d all walked back to the cabins, both men looked somewhat embarrassed, though neither had provided a reason for standing in the river with no fishing rods.

  “Thanks, Agatha,” Mason said.

  “See you at dinner.” Paxton stomped into his cabin, trailing river water.

  Mason shrugged and followed his brother.

  “Those two weren’t raised right.” Tony stood in the middle of the path scowling at them. “They didn’t even bother to wipe off their feet.”

  Agatha sighed. Her temper seemed to have fled as quickly as it arrived. Tony wanted to laugh. He remembered Camilla’s temper well enough—took a long time coming, but then it stuck around for a few hours. He’d learned to stay out of the way just as the Cox brothers had. Agatha’s anger seemed just as fierce but apparently it dissipated quicker.

  “It’s my job to clean up after guests.”

  “Still. They could show a little common courtesy.”

  They were halfway back to the main house when Tony reached out and tugged on her arm. Agatha stopped and turned to look at him. She was a good-looking woman, Tony realized. And she didn’t put up with nonsense. She certainly hadn’t seemed afraid of the phantom water moccasin.

  “Is there something you wanted to say?”

  Tony ducked his head when he realized he’d been staring. He stepped closer and made sure he had her attention.

  “Something’s not right, Agatha. Jasmine and Xavier were definitely trying to turn the spotlight onto the Cox brothers. And they didn’t go straight back to the room. Earlier when they supposedly left for a nap, they stopped where we couldn’t see them. They waited to hear what we would say. I saw the bushes moving.”

  “Eavesdropping is impolite, but it doesn’t make them murderers.”

  “And the Cox brothers were not fishing in the river when they were spooked by a snake.”

  “Plus there’s no fish in their freezer. They’re either the worst fishermen ever or—”

  “Or they’re not being honest about what they’re doing here.” Tony rubbed a hand up and around his neck. “The Willis couple were remarkably unhelpful and hostile to answering any questions. Brooklyn Willis claims to have seen Dixon in your pantry, but that doesn’t make any sense either. Stuart seems overly protective of her. It’s more like he’s afraid she’s going to say something she shouldn’t.”

  “I did notice he hovers a lot.”

  “As for the Cooper family, they seem overly helpful.”

  “How can someone be overly helpful?”

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that someone swapped out Dixon’s breakfast, and that same person may be snooping around your property. They may be staying at your property.”

  Agatha didn’t dismiss his worries.

  She didn’t tell him he was exaggerating or that she had nothing to worry about.

  Instead, she slid her fingers up and down her bonnet string—kapp string, she’d called it a kapp—and finally looked at him, a grave expression on her face. “I’ll be careful, and I’ll call you if anything else happens.”

  “Okay, but I have some errands to run in town. I won’t be around for a few hours.”

  “Then I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble for at least that long.” With a reassuring pat on his arm, she turned and went into her house.

  It was only after he was back at his own place that Tony realized he’d meant to reassure her, but in fact, she had reassured him. The problem was that he’d been here before. He’d been involved in enough murder investigations to know when danger was still afoot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gina was still cleaning when Agatha walked back into the house. The woman never seemed to take a break. She’d apparently finished the main part of the house, scouring it from top to bottom. Now she’d turned her attention to Agatha’s office. She’d been in there less than ten minutes when she called Agatha into the room.

  She held up the trash can that sat under Agatha’s desk and shook it. “Look at this and tell me what you think.”

  “Seems to be practically empty.”

  “Look again. Look at the wrappers.”

  Agatha stepped closer and peered down into the nearly empty liner. “Wrappers?”

  Gina tucked the trash can in the crook of her left arm and plucked out three wrappers. “Lemon drops. Have you started eating lemon drops?”

  “Nein.”

  “I didn’t think so. In fact, I was sure you hadn’t. You told me the first week I worked for you that anything lemon flavored sets your teeth on edge.”

  “Always has. Couldn’t even eat my mamm’s lemon pie, which my entire family declares one of Gotte’s blessings.”

  They both stared at the wrappers in Gina’s hand.

  “That round Amish man eats them.”

  “Henry Glick?” Even as she asked, Agatha remembered he did. She’d picked up his room the day before and there had been wrappers all over the place. She’d wondered if he had a giant bag of them in his luggage.

  “We both know these weren’t yours, and they were right here at your desk. Henry was here.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

  “I checked your browser history.”

  “My what?”

  “On your computer. Look.” Gina pushed the trash can back under the desk and motioned for Agatha to sit.

  Agatha had learned during Gina’s first week of working for her that when the woman spoke in a certain tone it was best not to argue with her. Gina sometimes reminded Agatha of a grumpy teacher she’d had when she was in grade eight—the last grade for Amish students. She thought the woman didn’t care for them at all, but then she’d caught her crying at their graduation ceremony. Apparently she had a tender heart that she kept well hidden, and Agatha expected the same was true of Gina.

  She sat and stared at the laptop, though she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Computers weren’t common in Amish households. In fact, they were forbidden by their Ordnung. Jonas had explained to her that their community allowed them for business, so she was able to have one in the office. It was battery operated, and she charged it occasionally by plugging it into the generator in the barn. She connected to the internet through a Wi-Fi hotspot which was also located in the barn.

  Agatha realized many Englischers wouldn’t understand this distinction. The truth was that Amish communities tried to limit worldly influence on their families and homes. They attempted to remain simple. It was never an easy task, and sometimes they found themselves walking a fine line between remaining plain and running a successful business.

  The small laptop stayed in her office at all times. She only used it for reservations and occasionally to check the weather. Gina was already operating the mouse, clicking and moving the device left and right. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

  Hands on her hips, she nodded toward the computer. “So?”

  “So...” Agatha started patting her pockets looking for her glasses. Gina plucked them from the shelf near the computer and handed them to her.

  “So, why were the Glicks in here, using your computer?”

  “I sometimes allow guests to do so.”

  “To print out their boarding tickets. The Glicks arrived on a bus, same as all your Amish guests.”

  “Maybe they were worried about train schedules.”

  “Look at this list. This is their browser history.”

  “I still don’t know what that is.” She peered more closely at what appeared to be a long list of gibberish.

  “This is the browser history. See? It shows what websites a person has visited. It even shows the day and time. This morning at four a.m. the Glicks where here in your office, checking out that website.”


  “Why would they be here at four a.m.?”

  “Exactly!”

  “I certainly didn’t hear them.”

  “Which means they were sneaking around. They were here, on your computer, Agatha. While you were sleeping.”

  “Farmers get up early. Maybe they couldn’t sleep and...” The bogus explanation fell away. It made no sense, even to her.

  Gina repositioned the mouse and double clicked on one of the web addresses. A different screen opened. Both Agatha and Gina inched closer to the screen. Agatha’s thoughts scattered like so many butterflies—flying here and there. For a moment, she couldn’t coax what she was seeing into anything legible. Then her mind calmed, her vision cleared, and she pulled in a sharp breath.

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  Gina glanced at Agatha, who nodded in the affirmative.

  She clicked on Check on Your Investments, but it simply went to a screen filled with dollar bills as a background and two blank boxes for user name and password.

  “Try the About Me button—there at the top.”

  The image changed instantly.

  Agatha shrieked and pushed back from the computer.

  Gina covered her hand with her mouth, her eyes wide and unbelieving.

  Agatha forced her attention back to the screen, but it hadn’t changed. She could only stare...stare and wonder why she was looking at a picture of Russell Dixon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Agatha found Henry and Jan Glick sitting and staring at the partially-demolished tennis courts.

  “There’s a better view down by the river.”

  They looked up at her. Jan attempted a smile but it slipped away, replaced by a look of pure concern. Henry waited, apparently ready for the confrontation that lay ahead.