Old Bones: a Hetty Fox Cozy Mystery (Hetty Fox Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

“I hope that’s true.”

“I loved her. I truly did. But in the end I had to let her go back to New York alone.”

“Why?”

He glanced about his home before returning his attention to me. “Because of the children. Because of the farm. Because I already had a wife.”

“That’s not how you started the evening.”

“I know.”

“Where did you leave her?”

He took a deep breath. “Standing in front of the door to her motel room.”

“How was she?”

He shook his head. “Distraught. But she said she understood. She had her own life. She had her own goals. She had hoped we could merge them. In the end, I couldn’t see my way clear to do that. The children were young. I had crops in the field. I couldn’t just walk away.”

“Who do you think killed her?”

His face darkened. His fingers curled into fists. “I only wish I knew.”

T
he first flash of lightning descended on Hendricksville when I reached the outskirts of  town. I thought of Blackie cowering in some corner while the storm played out its fury. I goosed the gas and rushed onward. I had the the town to get through and the bridge to cross before I reached home.

I had spent the drive to this point reviewing Sam’s words. He claimed he was innocent. He alleged Eva had been alive when he left her. I hadn’t even bothered to ask him about his wife. If he was lying, he’d only do so again. Besides, I had no way to tell if he was lying or not.

I still liked him as the killer. Eva was with him the night she died. she was a threat to his way of life. I had only his word that that they had mutually decided to part. Willa, also, I thought, made a good suspect, but not now that she was dead she seemed the likely killer. No one was claiming she’d committed suicide.

What I needed to learn, I thought, was how the killer got into the Lowry attic. In the meantime I thought, recalling Laura’s dear face, I had a knitting group to set right.

I barrelled my car into the driveway and didn’t bother putting it away in the garage. Holding my purse over my head, I made a dash for the house. Rain poured down on me. Thunder rumbled. I slammed open the back door. “Blackie?” I called out. I heard a pitiful meow in return, and a few seconds later, Blackie slinked into the room.

“Come here, old fellow.” I sank onto a kitchen chair and patted my lap. “Come up. Come on. He jumped. “There’s a good boy,” I said. My arms circled his body. I hugged him to my chest. He leaned his head into my shoulder. His entire body was trembling.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a storm. It will be over soon.” He looked up at me, then headbutted my chin.

I sat with him on my lap for the next ten minutes as the storm gradually wore itself out. Finally, when the rain was nothing more than drips falling from leaves and roofs, Blackie rallied and hopped to the floor. I stood and reached inside the cupboard and withdrew two treats which I placed the on the floor

Then crossing to the long counter, I pulled open a drawer, withdrew the local phone book, and tracked down the phone number for Valerie Jarrett.

“Valerie,” I said when she answered. “This is Hetty Fox. I’ve been nominated by the knitting group to meet with you to see if we can work out a better solution to your proposal.”

“Yes. I’ve listened to the message you left on my machine. Sorry about not getting back to you sooner, but I only got home last night. What kind of solution are you suggesting?” she asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know yet. That depends on what you and I can work out. I’m hoping whatever that is, I’ll be able to take it back to the group and sell it to them.”

“When do you want to get together?”

“Whenever is the most convenient for you?”

“This afternoon?”

“That sounds fine. What time?”

“How about three?”

“That works for me. Why don’t you come to my place? I’ll make tea.”

So we left it like that
— one of the women praying to find a compromise, the other intent on having her own way.

***

Valerie arrived at my front door shortly before three that day.

If she was unhappy about a search for a compromise, she didn’t show it. She was what I would call a medium woman: medium tall,  medium build, and hair evenly divided between black and grey. But when I looked into her eyes, I realized she was also a very determined woman. I knew she wouldn’t back down from her goal just to please me.

“How did you get stuck with this thankless job?”  she asked as she stepped through the doorway. She shrugged off a sweater, which I draped across the back of a chair.

“It wasn’t difficult,” I said. “All it takes is knowing the right sort of people.”

She laughed.

“No,” I went on to explain, “Laura Day felt since I was the newest member, I’d be the most flexible, too. As you can imagine, your suggestion has raised some opposition from long-term members.  Shall we go to the dining room?”

After speaking with her on the phone, I had run out and bought the makings for strawberry shortcake and brewed up a large container of sweet tea. I assumed when entering into negotiations, it paid to butter up the other side.

“You say it was Laura who put you up to this?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a nice person.”

“She is, but shall we eat before attempting to resolve our little problem? That way if nothing comes of our efforts, we will have been well fed.”

Valerie laughed again. “That works for me.”

I led her to the dining room where the table was laid with silverware and cloth napkins and candles. I was definitely out to impress her. “Please make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

I returned a short time later with a pitcher of sweet tea and two portions of strawberry shortcake on two of my best dessert plates.

Valerie caught sight of the tray and her eyes widened. “Is dealing with me really this big a deal?”

I chuckled. “To many of our members, it is.”

“And what, you’ve been sent to defeat me?”

“Actually, a group of us would like to settle this so that everyone benefits. They’d really like us to find a compromise that all sides can support.” I set a generous serving of strawberry shortcake before her. Then I poured her a tumbler of tea. After doing the same for myself, I sat and said, “I’d like to know why you proposed changing the meeting date to a Saturday? You must have known the current membership would be against it.”

“Hetty, there are a number of working women in this town who admire what your group does. They’d like to be part of it. They’d like to have their offerings taken to nursing homes and to the hospital. Now, they could start their own group. They could meet on Saturdays, and  take their lap rugs and blankets to the hospital and nursing homes just as you do.”

“Then why are you suggesting we merge the groups?”

“Because I don’t want this effort turned into a competition. I want to unite us, not divide us. I think it would weaken the position of both of sets if the town thinks we’re trying to outdo each other.”

“You may have a point.” I forked a bit of shortcake into my mouth and chewed.

Valerie nodded. “Trust me, I am right on that.”

After swallowing, I asked, “Are you open to any kind of compromise?”

“Of course, I’m not that hard nosed. What do you have in mind?”

I gulped a sip of tea and set down my glass. “What if instead of meeting twice a month, we made it four times. We could add the provision that any member is welcome to attend either of the two sessions or all four? That way current members can continue meeting on Mondays. The members who work will be free to meet on Saturdays.”

“It still sets up a large division between us.”

“Oh, I can almost promise you that some of our members will come to both sessions. We are an enthusiastic group.”

Valerie smiled and set your fork down. “Do you really think so?”

“My dear, from what I’ve seen of our membership, I’d make book on it.”

After we’d polished off our shortcake and Valerie had left my home smiling, I tried to reach Laura. I wanted her feedback on the question. But she didn’t answer. I hung up without leaving a message. I’d try calling her again later. For the moment, I wanted nothing more than to sit and knit in peace.

***

The knitting session felt good, but I wasn’t at it long before my peace was interrupted.

“Greetings from your favorite spy.” It was Andrew, of course, coming home for the night. I’d still had no luck reaching Laura. So, despite the disturbance, I was delighted with his arrival. I was in need of a diversion. I gazed up into his smiling face and let my knitting sag to my lap. “You seem mighty pleased with yourself. What have you learned?”

“What do you think?”

“If you’d tell me what what you know, I wouldn’t need to guess.”

Andrew shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes, you’re no fun at all. Anyway, I can’t see that  camping out at Sam’s place helped our effort not at all. I learned nothing more than I had the day before. Lots of women showed up bearing food. Only this time my housemate was among them.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t there for the same reasons they were.”

“Or so you say.”

“Honestly, Andrew. Would you behave?”

He scowled down at me. “My dear, I do nothing but behave.”

“Well, that’s a difficult statement to sort through.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You may take it however you please.”

“Could we get on with this?”

“Well, since there was little to report from my mission at Sam’s house, I decided to stop off at Oberton’s office.”

“He has something new?”

“From a to do list he left casually laying on his desk, I saw that he’s been checking up on Sam’s banking records.”

I blinked. “You mean there could be a financial aspect to Willa’s death?”

Andrew shrugged. “The list didn’t say what Oberton was after. It only noted that he wanted to check Sam’s bank accounts.”

I sank back in my chair and worried over this new wrinkle. If Sam had killed Willa over financial concerns, what did that mean about his killing Eva? Could Eva’s murder really not have had anything to do with Willa’s death? I shook my head. I didn’t believe it. I raised the question with Andrew.

“Beats me,” he replied. “I like Sam for both murders, but what do I know? You’re the brains in this outfit. You tell me.”

“Oh dear, I’m as muddled as you are,”

“Then, heaven help us both.”

“Indeed.”

Having no more insights on the murders, I tried phoning Laura Day again but the woman again failed to answer.  Frustrated, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare a small meal. Blackie showed up and watched my preparations, his tail twitching. Dinner was his favorite time of day, and he enjoyed keeping a close eye on its progress.  Then, after eating and cleaning up after him and myself, I made another attempt to reach Laura and struck out again. Finally, I settled myself into my chair and resumed knitting.

O
n some level, it was hard to believe I could have lived in Hendricksville for more than six months without ever having visited Damon’s office. Back then, though, Damon’s name hadn’t been on a short list of possible killers.

I pulled my car into the parking lot and stared up at the large silos. As a city girl, this landscape of tall, concrete towers with its faint, lingering scent of dried grain seemed completely foreign to me. Many of the towering bins showed their age and looked as though they’d been passed down to Damon as part of the family’s original business. Other bins, though, looked to have been recently built and probably reflected Damon’s determination to take the business in a new direction.

Shoving aside my sense of unease, I tracked my son-in-law down in his office, which looked like a photo from a bygone era. Floors were wooden and scarred. Walls were plain plaster, their paint dulled from the accumulation of decades of grain dust. His desk was mammouth, an old oak affair that looked as though it would take six strong men to move it. Beside the sense of moving back in time, I also felt that I’d just stepped into a very masculine world, where bib overalls and John Deere hats ruled.

Damon must have felt my gaze on him, for at that moment he glanced up. “Hetty, what a lovely surprise.” His pen fell next to the stack of papers, and he stood. “May I get you some coffee?”

To my eyes, he looked more tired and more than a little older than he had a couple of short weeks ago. I suspected the strain was beginning to take its toll. His dark hair had wisps of gray at the temples. Was that new or had I simply not noticed them before? The bags under his eyes, were they new, too?

I’d never thought of the burden that being suspected of murder placed on a person. How much worse, I wondered, must it be if one were the killer? Did the guilty sleep at night? Could they still eat? Or did they spend all their time worrying that the next knock on the door would be the police?

I smiled at Damon. “Coffee would be great. Thank you.”

He rose and scurried through a door opposite the one I’d just entered. I brushed a light layer of dust off one of the oak chairs in front of his desk and sat. Through the large, east-facing windows, I watched employees scurrying around the grounds, doing whatever it took to store grain safely in large towers.

Damon returned shortly bearing two heavy, white mugs
— both chipped.
  “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you,” he said, “but what brings you my way? Oberton isn’t close to arresting me, is he?”

“Not that I know of, but I am here because of your aunt’s murder.”

Damon shook his head and put his mug down on his desk. “I just wish I could put all this behind me.”

“I understand.” I took a quick sip of coffee. “It’s just that with Willa Hillman’s death, I’d like to know more about her husband. Is Sam a member of your cooperative?”

Damon smiled. “Yes. He he’s a member… a very good one.”

“Would you call him a successful farmer? I mean, does he earn enough money from farming to pay for his lifestyle?”

“Sam?”

“Yes, I am curious about the state of his finances.”

Damon shook his head. “I know the dollar value of his grain sales, but it would be unethical for reveal that information to anyone… including you.”

“Okay, can you just tell me then if you think he’s good at what he does?”

Damon’s head bobbed up and down. “I would say he’s among the top ten farmers locally.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s excellent.”

“Then, why would Oberton want to check his bank records?”

Damon’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Who says he is?”

I lifted my chin. “I have my sources, and like you, there are things which I cannot share.”
Besides which, if I ever explained about my ghost and how he’d ferreted out this bit of information, I would probably be locked up — with you and Megan leading the charge.

Damon stared at me silently a moment. “I can’t believe Sam was involved in anything shady.”

“That may be true on the business side of his life, but I know for a fact that he was prepared, briefly, to run off with your aunt.”

“He wasn’t.”

I nodded. “Oh, but he was.”

“It’s hard to believe a story like that about Sam. He’s always been so level headed.”

“That may be, yet Eva was murdered. Now, his wife is dead, and she was also murdered.”

“Oh come on. You can’t believe Sam had anything to do with either of those deaths?”

“Why not?”

“Believe me, that’s not the Sam that I know.”

“Well, I think you’re an honest man, too, but that hasn’t kept Oberton from having his suspicions of you.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Oberton suspecting me is logical. There was a grain elevator operation on the line. There were hundreds of thousands of dollars on the table. Either Eva or I stood to win or lose a lot of money based on what what was written in Dad’s will. And I didn’t know before it was read that I’d inherited the business. No matter what way you cut it, I had a valid motive for murder my aunt.”

“Yeah, but you were awfully young.”

“But I was aware of the business. After my parents’ death, I’d wondered who Dad left it to.”

“So? Sam owns a farm. That has to be worth a great deal of money.”

“Yes, but he had no reason to kill his wife over it. And he had no financial interest in Eva.”

“No, but he might have seen Eva as threatening his way of life. And we have no idea what impact Willa might have had on Sam’s finances. Maybe she spent a great deal of money. Or maybe Sam held a large life insurance policy on his wife.”

Damon scowled. “I don’t know what to tell  you, Hetty. I still say Sam is as honest as they come. I don’t think he killed Willa, and I doubt very much that he killed my aunt.”

“Well, someone did, and to get you off the hook, I need to find out who that someone was.”

***

After departing Damon’s office, I fired up the car and headed across town. Having tried and failed several times yesterday to reach Laura, I decided to see if she was available this morning.  It took me less than five minutes to reach her house on Grant Street.

“Hetty, how nice to see you. Have you finished another baby blanket so soon?”

“No, not this time. I’m here to report on my mission.”

“You’ve met with Valorie?”

“I have.”

“Come in. Come in. How did it go?” Her eyes danced with excitement as she closed the door behind me.

“I think we have put together an agreement everyone can live with.”

She waved me to the couch and offered me coffee which I declined. Then, she settled opposite me in a wing back chair. “So tell me, what have you come up with?”

I outlined the plan. Laura nodded, and looked increasingly pleased with each point I explained. “I think that might work,” she said when I finished.

I let out a large breath. “I’m relieved to hear it. I thought so too, but since I came up with the idea I was afraid I might be overly optimistic.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think we can put it to a vote at the next session. Don’t you?”

“If you say so.”

“I do.” Laura frowned. “I must say I’m surprised Valerie was so easily pleased with the offer.”

“I think a lot of us overrated her anger with us. She stressed that these women want to be members so they could share in our good works. She was enthusiastic about this plan the moment I proposed it.”

“Oh, I am glad.”

“Yes, and I think by letting our members attend as many of the sessions as they please we’ll get some cross pollination, which should be good for the group. Plus, the numbers of lap rugs and baby blankets we’ll distribute each month will increase, too.”

“Sounds like a winning idea to me. Have you checked this out with Toby?”

“No, I wanted to run it by you first.”

Laura blushed. “That’s kind of you, but Toby is the real force behind our group.”

Well, I suspected Laura was underrating herself, but what I said was, “I’ll approach her next.”

***

When I returned home, I packed up the remaining strawberries, whipped cream, and shortcake, and marched next door to Ellen’s house.

“Golly,” Ellen said, when  handed her the goodies, “this is lovely, but what gives?”

“I had company yesterday, and these are the leftovers. I  either share this with you and your husband now, or I’ll eat it all tonight. Then, in short order I’ll be buying larger slacks. Besides, I’ve been a bad neighbor. I still owe you a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”

“After I sprang that mummy on you? Goodness, you are too kind.”

“Why do you think I brought leftovers? If it hadn’t been for the mummy, I’d have brought a complete new version of this dish.”

She laughed and stepped back from the door. “Why don’t you come on in, and I’ll plop the goodies into the fridge. New or otherwise, this is very thoughtful of you.”

She nodded me toward the couch and returned a few minutes later bearing two steaming mugs. “I had coffee already made. I figured you’d want some.. I believe you told me once that your were caffeine addict?”

“That I am. Thank you.”  I accepted the mug, and I took a quick sip. It was hot and strong. I swallowed with satisfaction and returned my attention to her.  “I’ve been wondering how you’re holding up? It’s not everyone who can boast of having had a mummy concealed in their attic.”

Her brows drew together, but a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Do you know how the name of a new resident in a small town spreads quickly? I mean, everybody wants to learn about the new people. Well, toss a mummy into the mix, and the name doesn’t spread quickly. It explodes all over the place.”

I suppressed a grin. “I suppose it could feel that way.”

“Suppose has nothing to do with it. The very day after finding that mummy, I couldn’t walk down the street without someone stopping me to ask about it. Even strangers.”

“Oh dear.”

“That doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Has Oberton been back asking any more questions or has he offered you any explanation about how the corpse ended up behind the trunk?”

“I wish. He has been back a couple of times. He’s gone up into the attic on each visit, but he’s never shared though his thoughts. I’m not sure he’s even come up with any. He’s looked so down in the mouth each time he’s left that I doubt he found the visit helpful.”

“Have any of your new friends come up with any ideas how the body got into your attic?”

“Actually, one lady did. It was Mrs. Stark from the corner house. She said she thought it had to be that Lowry boy. According to her, he either killed Eva himself or helped the low life that did.”

“Did she say why she thought he was the killer?”

Ellen chuckled. “Oh, she was just full of all sorts of stories about him.”

“None of them good, I presume.”

“You’ve got that right. But most of the tales were the of the garden variety for teenaged boys. I didn’t think they added up to being anything truly sinister.”

That sort of matched my feelings on the man. I doubted he was the killer. But I’d been wrong before.