Murder at the Ostrich Farm

by London Lovett

  "Yes, the husband had a cola and the son"—she bit her lip and tapped her tiny chin—"I don't know if he had anything, come to think of it." She dropped her hand. "Wait, I don't know how I forgot this. I'm usually so good at remembering details. My mother says I can recite an entire movie scene by scene and even describe everything the actors were wearing in each scene." She smiled proudly and seemed to be trying to find other examples of her extraordinary memory. I only wished she could remember the conversation we were having.

  "Yes, I have one of those minds for remembering details as well." I wouldn't soon forget this conversation, that was certain. "You were just about to tell us something you couldn't believe you forgot," I said. It seemed her sporadic conversation was getting to Jasper too. He must still have been in a lot of pain. Normally, it would have charmed him.

  "What do you remember about Roy Freemont at the races?" Jasper said more succinctly, and with a slight edge of irritation.

  "Oh, right," Sally said with a nod. "He seemed really distracted about something. I had to ask him three times to catch his attention. Then he responded." Her expression grew far more serious. "It earned him a terrible scowl from Mr. Keeler, but Roy didn't seem to care. I don't think they like each other much. Reminded me of my friend, Gilbert. His stepfather—"

  "What was it Roy said that earned him a scowl?" Jasper asked abruptly, to put a quick end to the Gilbert story.

  Sally leaned forward and dropped her voice. "He asked if we were selling any moonshine. I practically dropped the tray I was carrying. I told him no, of course, and he just laughed. It was kind of an evil, mean sound though, not a good, fun laugh like when you're sitting in a funny movie."

  "Right, yes, we understand the difference between an evil and a fun laugh." It seemed pretty brunette or not, Jasper's admiration for little Sally was waning quickly.

  "You mentioned he was distracted though. Perhaps he was too interested in the race to notice you?" I suggested.

  "Oh no, I have to ask the visitors in the expensive seats first before the race starts. I'm not allowed to bother them during. The races don't last long, and they might miss the whole thing trying to decide on a refreshment."

  "Do you remember anything else about those two men, specifically?" I decided I needed to make my questions more succinct or risk her going on about something completely irrelevant. My new tactic worked.

  "Mr. Keeler drank his cola and then left right after the first race. He seemed unhappy, so I figured he must have lost money. Some of the people, especially people in the expensive seats, wager a lot of money. It would take me a year to earn what they toss down on one wager."

  "I'm sure," I said. "Did you happen to see which direction Mr. Keeler went after he left the race?"

  Her big brown eyes flitted up in thought. "Hmm, let me see. Yes, I mean I didn't see which direction, but as I was crossing the yard to refill my tray, I noticed Mrs. Freemont-Keeler, the woman who died," she added and then giggled, "of course you already know that since you're private investigators." She gushed a smile toward Jasper, who was happy to be on the receiving end of it. "Anyhow, she was marching toward the race area with big, angry strides and such a scowl. Poor Mr. Keeler looked as if he would have liked to run and find a hiding place when he saw her."

  I could hardly write fast enough to keep up with the details. It seemed Mr. Keeler had met up with his wife after the races, quite possibly making him the last person who saw her alive. "Which direction did they go?"

  A cute little frown formed under her nose. "I'm not sure. I walked inside the stand here to refill my tray." She instantly cheered back up. "But I did see Roy Freemont leaving the races as I carried my full tray back. It was right as the second race started at fifteen past one."

  "You do have a great memory, Sally." I wrote everything down. "You didn't happen to see which direction he went?"

  "No, sorry. I had to pay attention to my tray or risk dropping it. I did that once and it landed on a very grumpy man's shoes. I don't know if he was grumpy before the soda spill, but he was certainly grumpy afterward." It was hard not to be both annoyed and charmed by her spirit.

  "Thank you so much for your help, Sally. We'll let you get on with your work," I said.

  Jasper lingered behind for a brief private conversation and then did his best, with his current physical state, to catch up to me.

  "She sure is cute," he said as he caught his breath. "Cute but man oh man does she like to talk."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jasper and I headed back to the main building to locate the kitchen. A woman named Sophie had been assigned the task of taking care of the woman's club group. I hoped she could give us some insight into what Mildred Freemont was doing at that time.

  Jasper tapped me. "Hey, look at that. The coppers are here. Maybe they forgot some evidence."

  "I'm sure they just want to be thorough. I'd love to ask them a few questions but not sure how kindly they'd take to it."

  It was easy enough to spot the door marked kitchen. I knocked and a short time later a middle-aged woman with a face red from cooking something over a stove answered. She looked both miffed and confused. "We don't have any deliveries today," she said and was just about to slam the door shut.

  "Wait, hello, Miss Dawson sent us. We're here to talk to Sophie," I said before she could shut us out.

  She paused and didn't look any less miffed. "I've got her rolling out some pie dough, but you can come in since Miss Dawson sent you." She stepped aside and we walked through.

  The kitchen was a bustling room filled with restaurant sized pots and piled high with produce and meats. Jasper, Daddy and I had brought our own picnic lunch on Saturday. I hadn't realized just how much food fare the farm offered to visitors. The room was filled with steam, and there wasn't an ounce of fresh air.

  Jasper leaned closer. "Don't think I can stand the heat in here today, sis. Just not myself. I'm going to sit outside and get some fresh air."

  "That's fine. I won't be long." The woman who opened the door had marched ahead of us. She pointed out a young woman with copper hair piled on top of her head and streaks of flour all over her face and arms. She was elbow deep in a bowl of pie dough but had a kind smile for me when I walked up to the table.

  "Miss Dawson mentioned I might have a visitor this afternoon." She pulled her hand from the dough and wiped it on her apron. "I know this is about the ladies' club lunch. What can I do for you?"

  It seemed this was going to be a much less trying interview than the last. I was glad because the suffocating heat in the room was getting to me too. I didn't even bother to open my notebook, certain that the ink would just run all over the page.

  "I understand you were helping the ladies from the San Gabriel Valley Woman's Club with their lunch."

  "Yes, they were buying lunch, but they decided to have it outside on the picnic benches. So I carried the food and drinks out to them."

  "Was Mildred Freemont-Keeler at that lunch?"

  "Yes, she was there, but she left before the other women."

  "She did? Do you have any idea what time that might have been?"

  She scratched her forehead lightly and managed to leave behind even more flour. "Let's see, I carried the chicken and potato salad out to them at half past twelve. Mrs. Freemont ate her lunch and carried on a few conversations. She stayed to have the strawberry pie but left right after. It must have been just past one, after the ostrich races began." She nodded confidently. "That's right. She said she had to go find her husband to make sure he wasn't losing all her money at the races. I thought it was strange because she said her money. The only money my mother considered hers was the jar of spare change on the top of the icebox."

  I thought briefly back to my childhood. Father was the obvious source of money in the house, but I never remembered him referring to it as his money. He truly was ahead of his time and progressive in his manner.

  "So she made a point of telling her friends that the money was hers?" I a
sked again. I wasn't sure if it meant anything to the case, but it certainly made poor Walter look even more downtrodden and pathetic. I wondered how often she reminded him that the fortune was hers.

  "Can you think of anything else, anything that the other women might have said after Mildred left?"

  She smiled. "There were a few snide comments about how Mildred kept Walter on a very short leash, but after she left, they continued with their lunch. It seemed the mood was much lighter once Mrs. Freemont walked away. She was sort of dour through the entire meal. I suspect that had something to do with the incident with Paul Wilkins." She shook her head. "Guess the man just snapped."

  "Yes, it seems so. Well, thank you so much. I'll let you get back to your dough." And I'll slip out before I succumb to the steam, I thought wryly as I headed quickly to the door and a breath of fresh air.

  Not surprisingly, Jasper was hanging out near the pastures watching the ostriches. I thought the police might be out near the pyramids doing another sweep of things, but they were nowhere in sight.

  I reached Japser at the pasture fence where several curious birds had moved closer on a chance that the stranger with the newsboy cap was holding a fresh orange. I stood next to him and peered up at the birds. They were odd, funny creatures, but at the same time, it was hard not to look at them with awe.

  "Wish I had something to feed them," Jasper said.

  "Probably should leave that to the experts and their thick gloves. Speaking of gloves, did you notice the police scouting around out there at all?"

  Jasper looked back toward the barn area. "Think they went that way. I never saw them out in the field. Did you get anything interesting from Sophie? Other than a steam bath?"

  I wiggled the brim of my hat. "I'm going to have to reshape this thing when I get home. I found out that Mildred left the woman's club lunch about one. She announced that she was leaving to make sure her husband wasn't losing all of her money."

  Jasper peeled his gaze away from the birds. "Her money? Guess that makes sense if it came from her first husband. Boy, I'll bet Walter never heard the end of that."

  "I'm certain of it. Sophie's account of that afternoon matches up with Sally's timeline." As I spoke, I noticed Ruby talking with one of the police officers. "Oh good, maybe I'll be able to get some official police information from Miss Dawson. Especially since I don't have an inside contact out here in Pasadena like I do in Los Angeles." Not that my connection, Ernie Sampson, a childhood neighbor who worked at the precinct in town, was ever overflowing with information. But it was better than being entirely out in the cold.

  Jasper turned away from the fence. "Where to now, boss?" he asked.

  "Let's linger here with the birds a few minutes. I'm waiting for Ruby to finish her conversation with the officer. Hopefully, she'll be willing to share anything she learned."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Miss Dawson's conversation with the police officer ended quickly. I waited for him to walk away before I rushed over to speak to her.

  "Where's your beautiful scarf?" I asked.

  "I don't know," she said with a good deal of distress. "I can't figure out why I keep losing things. I took the scarf off and stashed it just inside the office building. I was helping the girls carry in a crate of lemons. I forgot about it for awhile, then ran back to get it when I remembered I'd left it inside. It was gone. I'd draped it across a small table we have in the front reception area. I'm sure that was where I placed it. Now I can't find it."

  "It was so pretty. Maybe someone took it, deciding it was too nice to pass up," I suggested.

  "I've asked around, but no one has seen it. And there are only employees here today. Oh well, I'm sure it will turn up. How did the interviews go?" she asked.

  "Fine, the girls were very helpful. It's easy to surmise that Mildred was murdered sometime between one and two. Sally was particularly good at remembering times and details and from what she said, both Walter and Roy left the races by quarter past one. Mildred caught up to Walter outside the track. She was making sure he didn't spend all her money, according to what Sophie heard at the lunch."

  "Yes, I believe she held all the reins and purse strings in that family."

  I scooted closer and glanced around. There were no officers in the vicinity. "Do you know why the police are here? It could help us solve the case if we knew what they knew."

  Ruby's face scrunched, and it seemed she might cry. She pressed her fingers to her mouth to stop a sob.

  "What is it, Miss Dawson?" Jasper asked. "Did they find more evidence pointing to Paul?"

  She recuperated from the sudden distress. "No direct evidence but that Arthur Jones. He's the farm supervisor. The police say that Paul is maintaining his innocence. Naturally," she added. "They came here today to interview a few of the workers, hoping to get a possible alibi for Paul. They thought maybe someone saw him walk to his bunk but no luck. Then to top it off, Arthur told the police that he'd seen Paul lose his temper on several occasions. I don't know why he talked to them again. He'd already talked to them on Saturday. But today he relayed to them something that happened a few months ago." She looked at us both. "I'm not sure if you want to hear all this—"

  "Yes, we do." I opened my notebook. "Everything matters at this stage of the investigation."

  She took a steadying breath. "A few months ago, Paul caught one of the other workers stealing from the farm. He was sneaking money out of a cash box at the lemonade stand."

  "What was the worker's name?" I asked.

  "His name was Eugene Strump. Obviously, we had to let him go. He'd been here for about a year, a foul-mouthed, unlikable man. We were certain he'd been stealing cash for some time. Paul let Arthur know that he'd caught Eugene stealing. Father and Arthur made the decision right then to fire Eugene. But he didn't go quietly. He made a big scene and screamed at Paul, calling him a rat and telling him that someday he would come back to the farm and kill him."

  Jasper and I were both stunned. "He threatened to kill Paul?" Jasper asked. "Right in front of everyone?"

  "Yes, he was red in the face. The women were frightened. I was ready to call the police."

  "How did Paul react?" I asked next.

  "That's what has me in such a state right now. Paul remained just like always, calm and quiet. He resisted even saying anything back to Eugene."

  "That man has nerves of steel," Jasper commented.

  "He does," Ruby said with a waver. "But when Arthur told the police the story, he said Paul was filled with rage. That he stormed off and threw things around in his bunk."

  I looked at her. "You never saw any of that? You didn't see him storm off, filled with rage?"

  "Not at all. It was Eugene who stormed off, filled with rage." She pressed her fingers to her lips. "I'm sorry. I'm just so angry that Arthur lied. I'm going to have father speak with him later, or I might just confront him myself."

  "Miss Dawson, you mentioned Arthur had already talked to the police on Saturday?"

  She looked surprised and not altogether pleased about the question. "Yes, yes of course they talked to all of the main people running the farm," she said defensively.

  "Yes, of course, but you seemed angry about Arthur talking to them again." It was obvious I'd stepped on a nerve. It seemed Ruby wasn't telling us everything she knew. "Did he tell the police something that was significant to the case? Something that was particularly damaging to Paul?"

  Ruby looked apologetically at both of us. "I know I should have mentioned this when I came to your office"—she took a steadying breath—"When they interviewed Arthur, he told them that he was walking out from his office and just heading past the shop when Mildred Freemont stopped to ask him where she could find the farmhand she had assailed earlier in the day. Arthur said she told him she wanted to apologize to Paul. Arthur didn't know where Paul was, but he told Mildred to check the barn area. Arthur said she headed that direction and that was the last he saw of her until she ended up dead in the pasture." />
  I had to fight not to raise a brow at her. It was an important part of the story. I pushed up a sympathetic grin instead. She was clearly still distraught over Arthur mentioning Paul's temper to the police.

  I patted her arm. "I'm sorry you're having to go through all this. I've got some good information right now, but I'd like to talk to the women from Mildred's club. Do you know where they meet or where I can find a few of them?"

  Ruby nodded. "Yes, of course. I have the address for their club inside. I think they meet during the day. I heard they were having a tea this afternoon to plan the memorial for Mrs. Freemont. I'll just dash inside and get the address."

  "Thanks so much. And I hope your scarf is sitting neatly on your desk," I added as she walked away.

  Jasper shot me a 'well that's interesting' look. "Guess she left out a pretty crucial piece of the pie," he said.

  "I'll say. No wonder the police felt they had more than enough to charge Paul. Everything points his direction." I took a deep breath. "But we're here to prove he didn't do it, so we need to focus on other possible murderers. I'm going to talk to the ladies in Mildred's club and see if I can pin a good solid motive on someone."

  Chapter Seventeen

  The San Gabriel Valley Woman's Club had its own little clubhouse snuggled between a church and a fabric store. It was tucked under a shroud of pepper trees. Jasper decided to rest his sore muscles and stay close to the trolley to have a snack and drink at a nearby market, while I walked to the clubhouse. The front door was ajar, held in place by a brick doorstop. An electric fan had been set up just inside the door to usher in some fresh air. It was easy to reason why they had bothered to set up a fan once I stepped inside. The small building had only a few tiny windows near the ceiling, which hardly helped for ventilation.