Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3) (3 page)

Parking in front of the house, I let Styx out of the back of my Acadia. He immediately broke into a run, circling the house once before peeing on some bushes. He started around again, this time stopping to sniff the flower beds, the doors, and anything else that caught his interest. Letting him have his fun, I surveyed the yard.

Memories of Mom cling to the house because of the flowerbeds she so lovingly maintained year after year. The peonies were just greenery this early, but daffodils and tulips bobbed in the breeze. Bushes Mom had trimmed and tended would flower throughout the summer. Snowballs, spirea, and the lilacs had already begun perfuming the air, and birds chirped overhead, happy for the sunshine.

I paused for a moment, taking in nature’s beauty. Then I took out my phone and checked my messages, answering a couple and sending the rest to the trash.

As Styx circled the house yet again, Gabe pulled up in an old pickup with the driver’s side door smashed in. To get out, he slid across the bench seat and opened the passenger door. “In February a guy came right through an intersection and hit me,” he said as he approached. “I’m saving up to get it fixed.” Guessing he had no insurance, I decided to add a bonus if he did the current job well.

Bounding around the house, Styx saw that we had company. He loped forward, skidded to a halt, and set his front paws on Gabe’s shoulders in his usual greeting. It was unfortunate, because the dirt he’d picked up from the damp yard left two smeary prints on Gabe’s gray jacket.

“Styx, get down!” I ordered, but he paid no attention. Having met Styx before, Gabe gave him the affection he craved, rubbing his sleek head and patting his wide shoulders. When Styx finally backed off, I wiped at Gabe’s jacket with a tissue.

“Just dirt, Miz Stilson,” he said with a laugh. “It don’t hurt a thing.”

I warmed a little more toward Gabe. Even if he was clueless about animals, he seemed to have a sense for their needs.

“Let me show you around.” I turned to the outbuildings, seeing them as Gabe might. The barn directly ahead of us was well-maintained, though gray with age. It was built into a hill that turned into woods just over the crest. On the bottom level were cattle stalls, above was hay storage. On our left were the sheds and pens: a granary, a corn crib, a chicken coop, and a toolshed. Between those structures and the barn was the yard, fairly dry for late May. I recalled with disgust the way it had looked and smelled when Dad raised cattle. Spring had been the worst, and I recalled being horribly embarrassed once when a boy I liked came to pick me up and made a disgusted face at the smell of the stinky muck.

Along the far sides of the outbuildings were several kinds of animals in crudely partitioned pens. Nearest were half a dozen reindeer, who regarded us with casual interest. Rushing past Gabe and me at a dead run, Styx approached them, barking loudly. Surprisingly, the deer moved forward, curious to meet this new creature.

Styx stopped, confused by the fact that the deer didn’t retreat from his ferocious bark. Momentarily at a loss, he spotted a second pen containing peafowl and chickens. Apparently feeling better about this new quarry, he went after them. The chickens scattered, bumping into each other in their hurry to get away. The peafowl retreated unwillingly, with human-like squawks of protest. One female flapped her wings, flying to the top of a fencepost and roosting there in hopes of safety.

Satisfied that he’d made a commotion there, Styx turned to the barnyard, where a bull and two heifers stood along the fence, munching grass. Rolling their eyes, the cows backed away as he approached, barking. The bull merely lowered his head as if daring the dog to come closer.

Even a Newfoundland has to respect the territory of an irritable bull. Styx stopped, contenting himself with barks that asserted his dominance without having to prove it.

Watching Styx entertain the animals, I noticed they’d been fed. There was corn on the ground for the fowl, and the water trough was full.

“Masters must have fed them when he came out this morning,” I told Gabe. Farmers are great about helping each other out, knowing there might come a time when they need help.

Gabe and I explored a little, searching out the bags of feed and tools he’d need to see to things.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring my girlfriend out with me tomorrow,” he said. “She knows lots about a lot of animals ’cause of 4-H growing up.”

“That sounds good.” I had considered calling the local animal shelter and having them come and take the animals, but that would strain their resources. If Gabe and his girlfriend could cope for a few days, Faye would have time to put the plan she proposed into effect. Then the animals would be Bill and Cramer’s headache, not mine.

“Let me know if you run into any problems,” I said. “I expect to have tenants in a week or so.”

“Okay.” He looked at the reindeer, who stood at the fence, watching us with interest. “Pretty, ain’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You go ahead. I’m going to pet them so they get used to me.”

Another good sign. Gabe didn’t intend to do only what he had to. He wanted to do it correctly.

“Come on, Styx,” I called. Leaving Gabe to his deer-whispering, I started toward the house with the dog at my heels. We passed a pile of slab wood, an overgrown stack of bricks, and an ancient riding lawnmower parked atop some straw. Styx found the latter interesting and stopped to investigate.

“Styx, come on.” He ignored me. “Styx!”

It took a sharp tug on his pink collar to get him to follow me. (I like pink, and my dog is very secure in his masculinity.) I guessed there was a mouse or a mole hiding under the lawnmower’s frame.

Stepping onto the creaky front porch, I let myself in. Styx left his outside exploring and bumped past me to investigate the inside smells. I stood for a second inside the narrow doorway, looking around. The house was familiar in some ways, alien in others. Mother’s china closet had been moved into the living room to make space in the dining area for Rose’s crafts. The top of the dining table was invisible under stacks of fabric. In one corner was an old Singer sewing machine, black with age. In another was a spinning wheel flanked with baskets of yarn. Plank shelves supported by bricks held stacks of colorful items, neatly folded.

In addition to the misplaced china closet, the living room contained two shabby upholstered chairs, mismatched end tables topped with cheap Christian bric-a-brac, and rag rugs that were almost certainly home-made. A bookshelf near the doorway was stuffed with aged paperback books, mostly Christian nonfiction and inspirational fiction.

Why had they left so much stuff behind? Didn’t they realize someone would have to spend days cleaning up after them? I’d judged Ben and Rose to be odd people. I hadn’t realized they were thoughtless as well.

Near my elbow, a book was shelved sideways atop the others in the row. An oversized piece of paper stuck out of its pages, and I took it out and read it. It was a church bulletin from the River of Fulfilling Life Church on Cable Street in Allport. Turning it over, I saw Ben McAdam listed as one of the church elders.

They’d had a decent house, a self-sufficient lifestyle that apparently suited them, and a support group at church, yet they’d moved away abruptly, leaving most of their stuff behind. Whatever happened must have been either very good, winning the lottery or getting a big inheritance, or very bad. Somehow I doubted Ben McAdams had any rich relatives, and I didn’t see him as the type to buy lottery tickets. I guessed the reason they left was something bad.

I had a lot on my plate, but the disappearance of Ben and his family demanded further investigation. Taking my cell from a convenient pocket at one end of my purse, I called Barbara. “Ben McAdams attended the River of Fulfilling Life Church in Allport. I think you should go over there and talk with the pastor to see if he knows where they went.”

There was a pause, and I guessed Barbara was thinking something like,
You’re not the boss of me
. In an attempt to soothe her ruffled feathers I explained, “I’m supposed to help out at the school with plans for the graduation ceremony. I’m the only one who remembers what has to get done and how to do it.”

Barbara still didn’t say anything, so I went on. “I’ve arranged for Gabe to care for the animals.” It wasn’t as if I wasn’t doing my part. “These people left most of their stuff behind, Barbara Ann. We need to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”

When she finally spoke, her tone said clearly she could have argued but had decided not to. “Do you have an address?”

I supplied the one on the back of the bulletin. “You’re the best, Sis.”

“Yes,” Barbara said. With that she ended the call.

Gabe was still at the corral fence, and one of the reindeer was eating something out of his hand. I tugged at Styx’s collar, coaxing him toward the car. He gave the animals a few parting barks before climbing onto his towel-covered seat, sorry to leave such an interesting place but happy to be going anywhere I was going.

CHAPTER SIX

Barb

It isn’t that I mind doing things for Retta. It’s the way she expects me to do as she says that irritates me. When I told Faye I’d been ordered to visit the church McAdams attended, she played peacemaker, offering to go. “That isn’t the point,” I told her. “The question is why doesn’t Retta do it? Apparently it’s something about graduation.”

Faye chuckled. “Last year someone decided that instead of blue and gold flowers for graduation, they’d have blue and gold and white. Retta almost had a fit. Nobody changes tradition if she can prevent it.”

I sighed. “Okay, so while Retta saves Allport High from eternal embarrassment, I get to interview a man I don’t know about a family I never met concerning an emergency that probably never happened.”

Faye grinned. “Good luck with that.”

The church was a modular building in a mostly residential neighborhood. There were chairs instead of pews, narrow windows with regular glass, and a slightly rickety-looking speaker’s platform up front made of particle board covered with wafer-thin, fake wood paneling. The pastor, a slightly round young man with Buddy Holly glasses, greeted me politely when I tapped on the door of his office.

“Aaron Cronk,” he said, shaking my hand. “What can I do for you?”

He frowned as I explained the McAdams family’s move. “I didn’t know they were leaving,” he said, “but that’s no surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ben doesn’t trust many people, and he often doesn’t share his plans.” A moment later he added, “I guess it’s good they left as a family.”

“Meaning you thought Ben and the woman might split?” Though I’d tried to recall her name on the way over, I couldn’t. Retta had no doubt mentioned it more than once, but I often don’t listen when she goes into one of her stories about people I don’t know and don’t need to.

Cronk shifted his feet. “It isn’t my place to tell tales.”

“Mr. Cronk, we’d like to return the family’s possessions to them. That means we need to know where they are. If the woman and McAdams went separate ways, it would be helpful to know that.” Gathering bits of memory I said, “Ben rented the farm as a single man, right? The woman and her daughters joined him later.”

He nodded. “When Rose’s husband died in an accident, she tried to make a go of a yarn shop. Though she’s a talented artist, she couldn’t handle the business part. Ben, a strong church member, lived all alone in that big house.” He clasped his hands as if it were natural for a single female to join with the first unattached male who came along. “Rose came to me for counsel, and I encouraged her to accept Ben’s offer of protection.”

“Moving in with McAdams gave her financial security.” I’d have suggested a college business course, but I kept that opinion to myself.

“I thought they’d marry. Rose said she wasn’t sure she cared for Ben in the way a wife should for her husband.” His hands fluttered to demonstrate how helpless he’d felt at her decision. “I hoped she’d come to her senses in time, but I’m afraid things got worse between them.” He shook his head. “Rose couldn’t see that Ben was God’s match for her.”

A preacher who spouted commercial taglines? If Rose had refused to marry Ben, she’d probably had her reasons. Judging from Retta’s reports that Rose and the girls had always been busy tending, making, and fixing, it seemed that McAdams had benefited as much as the woman he offered his “protection” to.

“You said you aren’t surprised they left. Did one of them mention it?”

Again the pastor paused, reluctant to share what he knew. “They’d become less involved in the church lately.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve been meaning to go out there for a month, but something always came up. You’re sure they’re gone?” He seemed embarrassed, and I wondered if he suspected Ben wasn’t as good to Rose as he should have been.

“They sent my sister a letter,” I said. “It mentioned moving to Detroit.”

He looked up sharply. “I don’t think so.”

I shrugged. “That’s what the note said.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a while. “I can’t imagine Ben moving there.” He leaned in as if confiding a secret. “It’s full of Mohammedans.”

“Mo—You mean Muslims?”

“Yes.” Cronk shook his head, making his jowls shudder. “I don’t think he’d expose his family to those people.”

“I see.” Irritated by the man’s blanket prejudice, I took out a business card. “If you hear from Rose or Ben, please ask them to contact me or my sister.” I wrote Retta’s cell number on the back.

Cronk studied the card with interest. “Are you the lady who caught those killers last winter?”

“My sister and I helped out with the case.” I didn’t say we got involved because the man accused of murdering his wife had been Retta’s boyfriend. We’d been relieved when it turned out he hadn’t committed murder on Retta’s behalf.

“A detective agency, eh?” The way he said it implied that our offices must be located between a bar and a brothel. Still, he set my card carefully on his desk and wished me a blessed day.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Faye

I was in my car Wednesday morning when the phone rang. Pulling into a nearby parking lot, I took the call.