Lethal Lineage (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Josie’s Mercedes pulled into the yard two days later. It was piled with suitcases and boxes. Tosca yipped disdainfully at our two sheep dogs as the car sailed past. She was buckled into her special seat and sported special riding attire.

Josie parked and rubbed the small of her back as she climbed out from behind the wheel.

“My God, my God. Why hast thou forsaken me?”

I laughed. “Oh come on now. The drive across Kansas isn’t all that bad.”

“It is. And it gets worse every time. Even Tosca seems to know what she’s in for.”

Keith came out of the house, opened the door on the passenger side and undid Tosca’s seat belt. “Come on girl. Let’s get some water.”

Tosca scrambled out and Keith hugged Josie. Just last fall it would have been unthinkable. Back then, they both prickled up when they were around each other.

“Good to see you, sis. Despite the circumstances.”

She laughed. “And how is my campaign buddy?”

“Making progress. I go out and talk to people just about every night. We’ve already got a lot of signatures on the recall petition.”

“Good. And I’ve thought of a great slogan,” Josie said. “Time for a New Deal.”

Keith whacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and groaned. “New Deal has been done, I think.”

“You don’t like it? Really?” Her eyes were wide open. Innocent.

“I can top that,” I said. “How about No Deal.”

“And we are the Dealbreakers,” Keith chimed in.

“Perfect. Now let’s get her luggage inside the house.” Josie and I happily headed up the stairs for the “spare bedroom,” in fact, a private suite.

“You look drawn,” she said, putting her suitcase on the floor. “What’s happening here now?”

I sighed. “Lots. Get settled in and I’ll tell you everything.” I wanted her to hear my version before she heard Keith’s analysis.

She fished in her purse for her cigarettes and a lighter. We had an agreement. Actually, she had an agreement, and I didn’t know for sure how it had happened. I could bitch, scold, and throw all kinds of fits, but the truth was, my work brought me in contact with all kinds of persons. And if I was judgmental about their smoking it would hamper a lot of conversations. People smoked when they were nervous or happy or depressed and especially when they wanted to tell me something about their family.

And as far as the second hand smoke factor, once I’d inhaled a lung-full of dust and been caught in the drift from a crop-duster it seemed foolish to make a fuss.

“You’re going to die.” I said anyway.

She smiled. “Eventually, yes. Still sort things?”

“That’s not the same,” I protested, firmly suppressing the image of thumbtacks. I hurried toward the doorway. “I’ll get your luggage, and put the finishing touches on supper.”

She blew a smoke ring and looked amused. Too late, I remembered I had said “supper” instead of “dinner.”

***

It was too windy and chilly to sit outside on the patio. But Keith had installed a fire-pit in our screened-in porch on the east side of the house. It functioned as a morning room and partial greenhouse. On days when I couldn’t bear the futility of trying to grow flowers on the plains, I fled to this room. It was private and green and lovely.

“You were going to catch me up?” Josie said.

“Yes, but you and Keith go first. Just where are you in the grand campaign to oust Sheriff Deal?”

“It’s not going to be a grand campaign,” Keith said. “It’s going to be sneaky and underhanded and a
fait
accompli
before the S.O.B. gets word of it. It’s the only way it will work. The last thing we want is to get that whole clan riled up.”

“But he’ll know who’s behind it.”

“Of course. Eventually. And then all hell will break loose. That’s why we’ve got to get all the signatures first.”

“I agree, Lottie,” Josie added quickly. “He’s told me a lot about these people. They sound sadistic.”

“They are. It’s a harsh word, but they are.” My stomach muscles tightened. It was the truth. They were simply mean people. I’d known when Josie decided to take them on, that it would mean trouble.

Josie never backed down.

Gloomily, I sipped the very good scotch she had brought with her. I raised the glass and eyed the contents back-lit against the flickering fire and tried to remember just how I’d gotten into such a mess. For the hundredth time since I’d become a law enforcement officer I went over the toll it was taking on my personal life.

I always came full circle back to the beginning. It was all my fault. I had volunteered for the job to have access to information so I could solve a murder. And I’d stayed because I felt I was doing a good job with a position in the community no one else wanted. Or at least no one who was actually worth a damn. Too many Troys wanted to carry a gun and too many Deals did too.

This county deserved better.

“When we go inside where I can spread a map on the table, I’ll show you where I’ve been, and we can divide up the remaining territory,” Keith said.

I glanced at him and then Josie. They had obviously been talking a lot. It was a welcome event. When they’d first met, Josie could barely manage to be civil to my husband. It was as though she regarded him as the incredible hulk and not remotely worthy of marrying her sister.

“And am I going to have a part in this grand scheme?”

“No,” they said together and immediately.

“Sorry. You just can’t do this, honey,” Keith said. “Josie and I have talked and it would be disastrous if a sheriff from Carlton County got involved.”

“I need to be the resident bastard,” Josie said. “You would be an unnecessary complication.”

I couldn’t think fast enough to decide if they were right.

“Remember, Deal threw us in jail maintaining we didn’t have the right to investigate Mary Farnsworth’s death. Now murder.”

“Murder?” I looked at Keith. How did she know that?

He looked sheepish. “Josie had to know what she was getting into. I couldn’t just let her come out here without knowing a thing.”

“Right.”

“There’s a murder involved here. A murderer running around. Someone killed a fine woman. You two were just trying to find some information so you could notify the family when Deal jumped you.”

“He wasn’t totally off-base,” I said. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. If it were my county I would have questioned anyone I saw in a county office after dark. After a death.”

“I know that,” Keith said. “You might have questioned them, but you wouldn’t have thrown the sheriff from another county in jail.”

“No, there is that. But that’s Deal for you.”

“You still haven’t told me about the rogue bishop,” Josie said.

I laughed. “Rogue bishop just about sums it up.” I told them about Talesbury’s background.

Having adopted Keith, Tosca slept on his lap emitting soft yips from time to time as he stroked her coat. Tonight she had soft yellow bows in her twin tufts of hair. Little yellow flowers were anchored in the ribbons.

Keith smiled down at her. “Spoiled rotten, aren’t you sweetheart? Like two women I could name, but won’t, because they would take my head off.”

Josie smiled and blew a smoke ring. It was good. Mellow sitting here in the fading light with my two favorite persons in the world. Trading ideas, sipping good liquor, talking, united in purpose, exchanging gentle banter.

“Oh and there’s something else,” I looked at Keith. “Even you don’t know this because I didn’t have time to tell you before I went to work the other night. Bishop Talesbury is connected to folks out here.”

“So that’s how he came to preside over Tammy’s confirmation,” Keith said. “I’ve been wondering about that. He’s an odd duck to just show up out of nowhere.”

“You’re not going to believe this.” Tosca lifted her head and studied me with interest. “Talesbury’s mother was actually from Western Kansas. In fact, her maiden name was Deal. He’s related to the Deals.”

Keith exploded. “Jesus H. Christ.” Tosca yelped and ran trembling to Josie. “Do you mean to tell me that bishop is a Deal?”

“Well, yes. Way back. But chances are he’s never met any of these Deals.”

Josie studied my husband. Studied this man whom she no doubt had regarded as a great logical stabilizer, the arbitrator of everything reasonable and sensible in the family. I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or appalled that she was being exposed to his other side.

He slammed his fist into his open palm.

“This changes everything. What if a Deal was involved in this murder? Josie, you should rethink getting involved in the recall election. If there’s a chance someone could get hurt, this kind of business is best left to the menfolks.”

My heart sank. I was too stunned to laugh, and the look on my sister’s face was beyond offended. Way, way past offended. She was looking at him like a bug under a microscope. A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth and a look of infinite tenderness crept over her face.

Go figure.

In an instant, I knew she would take a bullet for Keith, but she would not stop organizing the recall election.

We are identical twins and it’s not reasonable for me to view Josie as prettier or smarter, but from time to time I feel like Cinderella’s ugly step-sister and right now was just such a moment. If she’d said “Oh, Rhett,” and begged him to carry her up the stairs and ravish her, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

She looked incredibly lovely in the fading light. Her dark eyes widened at the force of this man she couldn’t have.

He was mine.

She knew that.

“I’ll be fine, Keith.” Her voice was firm, closing any further discussion.

We all stood and went inside.

Chapter Twenty

The next morning we acted as though nothing had changed. Keith and Josie agreed on territories and he circled houses that belonged to Deals, their relations, or dyed-in-the wool supporters.

“Just remember we’ve got to get this done fast, before Deal’s family launches a counter-campaign. And if you don’t mind, Josie, I don’t think your showing up in a Mercedes is a good idea.”

“Gotcha. Do you have something else I can drive?”

“My pickup.”

“Good.”

“You’re going to play this straight, aren’t you?” I asked. “Not pretend you’re me?”

“The thought never entered my mind.”

“In fact, that’s going to be part of her pitch,” Keith said. “That she was just visiting and is a KBI consultant and a psychologist and Deal was so dumb that he just arrested her out of the blue without trying to find out a thing about her background.”

“You know this just might work.”

“Oh it will,” Josie said. “We secretly freelance as political consultants.”

“Don’t want you to feel left out, Lottie,” Keith said. “But you’ve got to keep your nose out of this.”

I laughed. “All right. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do. I’m very, very behind. In fact, I’ve decided I need more help than just cleaning ladies coming in once a month. I’m going to find someone willing to clean every week and run errands and catch up on laundry.”

“Great,” Keith beamed. “That’s great.”

I smiled at the relief on his face.

“And a cook?” Josie asked. “Please tell me you’re adding a cook.”

“Not a chance,” Keith said. “Then we’d have to show up on time for meals. It doesn’t work that way out here. It would create more stress, not less. I can’t come in from the field to please some woman wanting to show off her cooking.”

Josie rolled her eyes.

“It might take me a while to find someone. Then I’ll look for a competent deputy. I haven’t had a normal day at the historical society in ages.”

“Is there such a thing as a normal day out here?”

“Not really, but there are a few bright spots. Edna Mavery’s son called. She’s the one who claimed the man kneeling next to her gave Mary the heart attack.”

They both looked at me expectantly. “Did she remember something else?” Josie asked.

“Nothing like that. Stuart just said that his mother perked right up after last week’s taping session. She’d stopped dwelling on the murder. He wanted me to know it had been very good for her and wondered if I could work something out so she’d continue.”

“Great. But won’t managing technology be difficult for her?”

“Yes, but I’ll take an old cassette player over to her house. We have one here with large buttons, and I’ll pre-load the tapes. All she’ll have to do is press start and stop.”

Tosca yipped and wagged her tail, sensing that Josie was about to leave. Keith looked at her solemnly, his hands shoved into his pockets. I knew what was bothering him and took over.

“Why don’t I take Tosca with me? It won’t look good to knock on people’s doors carrying a little dog. You might as well be driving the Mercedes.” I didn’t add that Tosca’s sessions at the groomer were more expensive than a visit to the dentist for most families.

“All right. Can we all meet for lunch?”

“You and Keith just go on without me. After I go to Edna’s, I’ve got to run over to Myrna Bedsloe’s. She made some changes to her story and can’t bring it in because her mother-in-law is having a bad day.”

“She can’t just email it?”

“No. I don’t think they even have a computer yet. They’ve had a hard time and her husband prides himself on doing without.”

“Don’t the kids need one for school work?”

“Not yet. I think the oldest started kindergarten last fall. The others are still little.”

“Others?”

“Yes, she has four.”

“So this is a mother taking care of an older woman with Alzheimer’s and she has four little kids besides?”

“Yes. And she cooks great meals and makes all their clothes and works like a galley slave.”

“And her husband?”

“Her husband is another story. Then after I finish at Myrna’s, I need to make two more personal calls before I can settle in and begin editing. So I’ll see you after work.”

I scooped up Tosca and waved goodbye. I got her car seat from Josie’s Mercedes and might as well have been caring for an infant by the time I got her strapped in.

Somewhere along the line, I’d started talking to Tosca. She was a great comfort. Her dark eyes tracked me and she’d even started yipping at all the right places.

My Tahoe jolted through a large pothole and Tosca yelped in protest.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” I reached over and petted her. “Budget cuts. Our roads are the pits.” The day was grey with a touch of fog, and overcast with deceitful little clouds slinking past like guilty dirty dogs with tell-tale feathers hanging from their mouths. Teasing us with the promise of rain, then snatching it back.

The clouds bounded and ricocheted against other clouds, then gathered strength for another run at a patch of blue. Dust rolled behind us. It got worse as I drove into the Bedsloes’ farmyard.

Myrna wore two baby monitors around her neck as she swept the porch. I carried Tosca, knowing the kids would dive for her with disastrous results.

“Hi, Lottie,” Myrna called cheerfully. “Come in, come in.” Tosca trembled, but she didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t about to set her down.

Inside, Myrna’s house was cool and spotless. Her mother-in-law sat in a rocking chair humming some tune I didn’t recognize. She wore a fleecy, flowery pink sweat-suit with a kitten appliquéd on the front. Her feet were shoved into bunny slippers and around her neck she wore a device that communicated with one of her daughter-in-law’s monitors.

I closed my eyes, wondering how Myrna stood her life. Soup simmered on the stove. In the corner was a patchwork quilt in a large free-standing hoop.

And in the coffee shop sat her no-count, good-for-nothing husband complaining to the boys about his sorry lot in life.

“You’ll just have to excuse the way things look,” she said gesturing around the immaculate room. “I’m late getting things done. Mom had the runs last night and we didn’t get much sleep. Did we, honey bunch?” She cooed cheerfully to the little boy balanced on her hip as she nuzzled his neck. “No, we didn’t.” He gasped and laughed as she made slurping sounds against his skin. “Going to eat you up. Yes I am. Can you stay, Lottie? Would you like some coffee?”

“No, I can’t. Really. I’m too far behind. I’ll just pick up the story you want me to use and go on. I want to include it in the pages we send to the printer this week.”

“Let me get it. I’ve got it all ready to go.” She carefully set her youngest down on the floor. He began to wail. The old woman started screaming and Tosca commenced to bark. My mind went south. I had to get out of there.

“Thank you,” I said when she handed me the pages. “I’ll send you the proof pages from the printer and you can look them over before they are set in stone.”

“Wonderful.” She picked up the little boy. He stopped crying. She walked over to the old woman, patted her hair, and handed her a soft Raggedy Ann doll and she stopped screaming. I petted Tosca and she quieted right down.

I left, feeling like a fugitive from an old nursery rhyme about driving a pig to market.

The faint fog had lifted but the wind had increased. When I reached Edna’s house I was anxious to deliver the tape recorder and get to my office. I hate being outside on windy days.

Edna did not come to the door when I knocked. I tried again. I was scared silly. Then I heard a faint shuffling. I waited. The knob turned and she reached for the hook and loop catch on her screen door. She was dressed in a front-snapped, flowered, seersucker duster. She looked at me blankly. Her eyes were red.

Crying again. She was obviously depressed. I made a mental note to call her son.

“Lottie! What brings you here?”

“I’ve brought you a gift.” She stared. “It’s a tape recorder. It’s a present from Stuart. So you can go right on recording all your memories without having to find someone to drive you to the courthouse.” There was a spark of interest in her eyes. “Let me set it up and show you how to use it.”

She stepped aside. I walked over to the table at the end of her little dining room/living room combination that was typical of a 1920s house. Beyond was a galley kitchen with a single row of cabinets. A rose frieze sofa and large chair sporting intricately crocheted doilies took up most of the living room. I put the recorder next to her neatly arranged clutter: stacked newspapers, magazines, letters, and assorted appeals for money from charitable organizations.

I looked for an electrical outlet. Luckily there was one within reach of the plug. “Now don’t feel you must do this, Edna,” I said. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I don’t mind.” She stared at the machine. “In fact, I’ve thought of a lot of things since I started talking to you the other day. Things people should know about.”

“Great.” That was often the case. If I could just get people started, all kinds of memories started pouring out. And with some persons there was something easier about oral histories. Especially those struck by the English teacher syndrome when they picked up a pen or pencil. They started worrying about grammar and worst of all, about sounding smart.

The great diaries and journals were written by persons blithely unaware of the importance of their entries. But our society has changed. Now even written letters, let alone journals, are rare. Emails and texting has replaced neighboring and personal contact. Clearly, Edna was going to be the type of person who lost all trace of self-consciousness when she started talking.

“I want to be sure you know how to use this. Just talk. Never mind the order. You can either do it chronologically or by topic. It’s your choice. I’ll pull your family story out of it later. You can look it over before I finalize it for the family history book. But in the meantime, just talk.”

“Well land’s sake. It will be nice to have something to do on days when I can’t get outside.”

“It’s all important, Edna. Everything. All the details. What it was like to have women over to quilt. Barn raisings. Everything.”

“I didn’t get out much. Henry didn’t like it.”

“That’s all right. We’re interested in a lot longer stories than the ones in our books.”

“I wasn’t nobody important.”

I hugged her. “You’ve always been somebody. Now sit down and let’s have a go at working the buttons.”

She lowered herself into the chair and suspiciously eyed the recorder.

“Press here to start recording. Then just talk. When you’re done, press the red button to stop. You can do this as long or as little as you like. Anytime, day or night. And when the cassette won’t go anymore, just call me. Don’t try to do anything else. I don’t want you accidentally erasing anything.”

“What if I’ve still got something to say?”

“I’ll bring you more cassettes.” I patted her hand and headed toward the door. “Bye now. Don’t bother to get up. I’ve got to run. I’ve got Josie’s little dog in the car. And she’s not known for her patience.”

I left cheered, feeling like I had done a good deed. A lonely old woman who had gotten caught up in a bizarre and terrifying experience now had something else to think about.

Tosca eyed me with disapproval as I opened the door to the Tahoe. “Oh come on,” I said merrily. “I rolled the window down so you had fresh air. And you don’t need someone paying attention to you every minute of the day.” She yipped. I drove to the courthouse.

***

Margaret looked tired. It had been a long week for her because of the hours I was spending at the sheriff’s office.

She rose when I walked in. “Hello, my name is Margaret Atkinson, and you are?”

“Oh come on. It hasn’t been that bad.”

“Plenty bad enough. You’d better be glad it’s me instead of William here. He’s been on a real tear.”

I sighed. William Webster was my most irritating and reliable volunteer. With impeccable integrity as he frequently reminded me. Very frequently. As though I lacked this virtue. Totally.

We had to call on him often lately. Much too often. He and Margaret were unpaid volunteers and they both had had a fit when I began “sheriffing”.

I was the only person on God’s green earth who approved of my new job. Keith worried about it. Josie thought I was a certifiable lunatic for taking it. Even Sam Abbot would have preferred someone huskier with fewer brains.

“Well William can relax. My latest crisis is…” My voice trailed off before I said “over.” I couldn’t guarantee that. Besides, there was still a whole catalogue of unanswered questions. “My latest crisis,” I finished gamely, “will just have to wait until I’m caught up here.”

Margaret had enough sense not to reply, but rolled her eyes. She stared at Tosca who returned her gaze. I could swear the little dog sniffed. As though she were nobility confronting a commoner.

“And just what is that?”

I seethed. But actually Tosca had started it. “Oh this is Josie’s little dog, Tosca. I’m dog-sitting today.” I refrained from explaining that my sister was out running around with my husband collecting signatures to oust the sheriff in the neighboring county.

“I’m allergic to dogs,” Margaret said. She sneezed and her eyes began to water. “Did you know medical research has established the fact that even if a little animal runs through a room once it takes five months to get rid of the dander?”

I suspected that was a lie, but I couldn’t afford to rub Margaret the wrong way. “OK. I’ll call Sam and see if I can drop her off at the office.”

“And if there is an emergency?”

“He can lock her up in one of the cells.”