Bury the Hatchet in Dead Mule Swamp (22 page)

“I’ll just get dressed and
then be back to fix your meal,” Jerry said.

After we ate, for the next
three hours, Jerry and I discussed every aspect of the Harvest Ball
we could think of. Perhaps most importantly, we decided on a firm
date. It would be the second Saturday in October, leaving plenty of
time for parents and schools to focus on Halloween after it was
over. Jerry said he’d get posters printed immediately and start
running an open invitation in the next week’s paper.

He nixed the idea of
sending private snob invitations because it was too much work, and
it didn’t really promote community unity.

As soon as businesses were
opening for the day, he got on the phone, and quickly collected an
impressive list of commitments for donations of decorating
supplies, and loans of folding chairs and serving tables. Probably
the greatest coup was Sherri Sorenson’s promise of genuine wheat
shocks, harvested with an antique reaper she’d found and had
restored in the company shop.

I shared my idea about
making the front hallway into a sidewalk café, and he liked the
concept, but wasn’t sure where we would find the tables and chairs
to make it work. We agreed to keep the idea on the back burner,
without abandoning it just yet.

The live music defaulted to
bluegrass because the band was available on that date, and Jerry
convinced The Blue Grass to reduce their fee for performing. By
virtue of his standing in the county and his authoritative voice,
which seemed to make people want to agree with him, he accomplished
incredible feats of persuasion.

While Jerry was doing all
this, I tried to call Chad from my cell phone. All I got was his
voice mail, but I asked him to let me know if Brittney was working
on the skit, and I told him the date of the Ball.

About eight o’clock, there
was a knock on the kitchen door. Just as Jerry had promised, Tom
Baker arrived to witness Jerry and me
tête-à-tête
.

Tom yelled, “I’m stoppin’
by like you asked. Don’t you want the presses cleaned
tomorrow?”

“I do. I do,” Jerry
answered him. “But I think I’m going to run some posters for this
Ball later today. Do you want some extra hours helping with the
set-up?”

“Sure thing. I finish at
Sorenson’s at four this afternoon. Sherri’s doin’ a great job
managing the place and Cliff’s brother Karl is moving here next
year to help. I don’t miss Kevin Teeter one little tiddly-wink.
Will that be OK? I can be here by half past.”

“Sounds great, Tom.” He
turned to me and winked. “Ana, don’t you think something Art Deco
with a gold border design would catch people’s attention? Cora will
like the look, too.”

“Um, I guess. I’ll leave
that up to you,” I said.

“You be sure to tell your
mother that’s what we’re doing,” Jerry told Tom, clapping him on
the shoulder. “I’ll save her a clean copy for her archives. This is
going to be the event of the decade. See you at
four-thirty.”

By ten o’clock we’d
accomplished so much my head was spinning. Jerry sent me on my way
with two sandwiches, a plastic bag of potato chips, and a travel
mug full of coffee. “It’s nothing,” he insisted. “Your
participation is critical to make this work. I owe you way more
than a box lunch.”

At least he didn’t feel the
need to kiss me when I left.

Chapter 32

Although the sun must have
come up while I was inside Jerry’s house, you couldn’t prove it by
sight. The day was nothing like Thursday, which had been sunny and
cheerful. The day before, the light reflecting on fallen leaves had
made it look as though the trees were casting golden shadows. Now,
the sky was lead gray and bleak. There were no shadows, and
everything looked flat. But the looks of the sky had no bearing on
my plan for the next several hours. I drove directly to Chippewa
Lodge.

Since the house was for
sale, I had every right to be there, looking around outside.
Whether Virginia Holiday believed me or not, I had told her Chad
and I were interested in purchasing the property, and she couldn’t
prove otherwise, so there was no need to be furtive. I put my small
glovebox flashlight in my jacket pocket, exited the Jeep and looked
around. As I had hoped, no one else was there, at any of the three
cottages.

My first priority was to
study the stairway that led down to the water. It was old and made
of wood, sure to have splits and rough places, even though it was
nicely painted. Maybe there would be some fibers caught in a crack.
If I could show Detective Milford a thread from a rug or a tarp
he’d have to investigate further. Any blood would have washed away
in the rain we’d had the week before, but I knew there was a way to
make blood evidence visible, if one knew where to begin
looking.

I’d also come prepared with
my small digital camera. If I found anything I wouldn’t move it,
but would take pictures, and document exactly where each item was.
If someone drove in, I’d hear them long before they could see me,
and it would be easy to quickly switch to taking pictures of the
river scenery and forestall questions about what I was doing. Of
course, a brighter day would have made that more believable, but I
could always stick the camera in my pocket and pretend I was just
checking out the river access.

The large number of steps
made my task daunting. First I walked all the way down to the
river, counting as I went. There were one-hundred twenty-two
treads, including the landings. With a sigh, I began working my way
back up toward the top of the bluff looking carefully at each step,
particularly the edges, scanning the dimly illuminated sides with
the flashlight. I kept telling myself if it were easy it wouldn’t
be worth doing.

By the time I got to step
twenty-five I was feeling stiff from bending over. By step fifty, I
felt cross-eyed from looking at every swirl and sliver in the wood
grain. On step fifty-seven I found something. Caught in a crack at
the edge of the step was a scrap of undyed burlap, like from a
grain sack. It looked neither very old nor very new, but there was
no way to be sure. I took a close-up picture of the fabric, then
backed off and took one of the step. I went down a few levels and
took another shot to show exactly where that section of staircase
was in relation to the bank and the various landings. With two more
photos, I was certain I could show anyone exactly where the small
fragment was located.

Energized, I continued on
to the top of the bluff, but I found nothing else of interest. Back
at the parking area, I glanced around and realized there was a
second set of steps to the narrow beach. Even though there were two
other cottages, I only saw one other stairway. Perhaps the owners
had agreed to share. But, I knew I had to look at all those
surfaces too.

This staircase was
unpainted, almost new, and made of treated wood. There weren’t
nearly so many cracks and places where something could catch, but
the near-natural color made it harder to see anything that was a
neutral tone.

Underneath one of the
landings, someone had stuffed a green plastic tarp. I wasn’t sure
if I should move it, in case it turned out to be evidence, but if I
didn’t look at it, how would I know? After debating with myself a
few minutes, I returned to the car and pulled out a pair of jersey
work gloves that I kept in the back and put them on. Then I took
pictures of the wadded up tarp from every angle I could manage on
the steep slope. Pulling gently, I worked it out from beneath the
wood platform and carried it to the parking area.

Very carefully, I unfolded
the edges. As soon as I’d done so, I realized how foolish this was.
I should have laid it on a piece of plastic to catch any flakes
of—anything—that might fall off. I should have called Detective
Milford. Too late now. And what would I have told him anyway? That
I was looking for something that might not exist, on private
property, without any good cause? He’d be sure to drive right out
and help.

In a few seconds the tarp
was spread flat on the ground, and it contained nothing. It wasn’t
even dirty. Folding it in half, then half again, I flipped it over,
hopefully without dislodging anything stuck to the plastic, and
opened it to view the other side. Still nothing. Although
criss-crossed with fold lines from being wadded up, it appeared to
be nothing but an extra tarp someone had stuck under the stairway
for some unknown reason. Disappointed, I returned it to where I’d
found it and began searching the rest of the treated
steps.

With only about ten steps
to go, the wind suddenly gusted, throwing musty leaves into my face
and momentarily destroying my sense of balance. I grabbed at the
railing, and was pushing hair out of my eyes when the rain began.
Large droplets pelted me, so forceful they hurt where they hit bare
skin. The sudden noise of the rain rattling the dead leaves caused
me to realize how quiet and still the air had been moments before.
Within seconds the impact lessened, but the rain became a deluge,
soaking me to the skin. I ran for the Jeep, opened the door and
jumped in.

Chapter 33

Reaching for the key, I was
about to start the engine, crank up the heater and head for home.
Then I thought about it.
It
. The boathouse. What a perfect
place to temporarily keep a body, if one had the key. I didn’t have
a key, but I was already wet. What did I have to lose? However, I
wanted to be more certain that I couldn’t be discovered. I’d had
enough confrontations with dangerous people already this year. Who
would be the best person to help me?

It had to be someone who
was already in town, which eliminated Cora, who would have been my
first choice. Tracy? Nope. Couldn’t call in the law to help do
something illegal. Jerry? Also a no. He’d probably try to talk me
out of it, or feel that he had to come help. It was going to have
to be Adele. I’d have to trust that she could keep her mouth shut
if the secret were important enough.

My cell phone was in my
purse, and I fished it out and punched in the number for the
grocery store.

“Volger’s Grocery, Adele
Volger speaking.”

“Adele, this is Ana. Can
you leave the store for a few minutes?”

“Maybe. Suzi is here. What
do you need?” Adele responded hesitantly.

“I need you to see if
Virginia Holiday is at her real estate office?”

“Whatever for? Where are
you?” Adele barked.

“Adele! Keep your voice
down,” I pleaded. “I’m out here at Chippewa Lodge and I want to
look inside the boat house. But I don’t want to get caught, and
she’s the most likely person to come out here unexpectedly. I got
her to show me around yesterday, but she’s suspicious.

“Suspicious of what?”
Adele’s voice dropped and became conspiratorial. “What have you
done?”

“Nothing yet, but she knows
I’m not really a potential buyer. Please,” I begged, “will you go
watch her office and call me if she leaves?”

“You don’t even know she’s
there, do you?” Adele pointed out.

“No, not
really.”

“OK,” Adele said quietly,
“I’ve got my cell phone with me. I’ll go check her office and call
you. Give me five minutes. Don’t do anything stupid until you hear
from me.”

“I won’t. I’ll start being
stupid after you call.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Ana,”
she groaned.

“Shhh. Don’t say my name
out loud.”

“You’re giving me the
creeps. I’ll call you as soon as I find Vir... her.”

Adele hung up, and I sat in
the car shivering. The air wasn’t cold at all, but I was still wet,
and not moving enough to keep warm. I wrapped the blanket that was
in the back around my shoulders and killed the time by eating a
sandwich. Then I put my flashlight into the plastic zipper bag.
Even though I expected the call, I jumped when the phone
rang.

“Ana. She’s at the office,”
Adele said with suppressed excitement. “I’m in the drugstore. I can
see the lights in her building, and I can see if she leaves in her
car. It’s parked on Cherry Street, headed this way. She’ll be sure
to come through this corner.”

“Are you sure she’s
there?”

“Yes, yes. I walked around
the block and looked in the window.”

I groaned. Adele taking a
walk in the middle of the day, in the rain, was probably fairly
odd. “Did she see you?”

“No. She was on the phone.
I only glanced sideways from under my big umbrella. She didn’t even
see me.”

“Won’t it look strange for
you to hang around at the drugstore?” I asked.

“They won’t bother me for a
while. I’m looking at paperback books. Reading a little. The rack
is right by the front window. I can pretend I’m waiting out the
rain. I can see everything that happens on this corner. Mavis
Fanning just drove past going east. She’s probably on her way to
the Post Office.”

“All right.” It sounded
fishy as all get-out, but I didn’t have many choices. “I’m going
down to the boathouse now. If Virginia goes anywhere in her car,
call me. You have my cell number, right?”

“Yes, I just called you,
remember? You’re as nervous as a fly on a hot window.”