Murder in the Boonies: A Sleuth Sisters Mystery (The Sleuth Sisters Book 3) (7 page)

“Okay,” Barb said agreeably. “We’re going to find your mother.”

They seemed encouraged by Barb’s positive tone, and we gathered up their things and went outside.

I’d let Buddy out of the car, and he was back at the lawnmower, digging at the dirt around it. “Buddy, come here!” I called. He didn’t obey immediately, and I called again. “Bud! We’re leaving.” Reluctantly he came to the car, where I introduced him to the girls. Iris and Pansy were polite. Daisy was thrilled. “A dog!” she squealed. “I always wanted a dog, but Ben says they chase animals and make them sick.”

“Some do,” I told her. “You have to teach them not to.”

She climbed into the back seat, calling, “C’mon, Buddy! Want to sit on my lap?” Amazingly, Buddy did. He jumped nimbly into the car and onto her lap, giving her an adoring look he usually reserved for me. Iris and Pansy got in on either side of Daisy, patiently enduring her comments about what a great dog Buddy is and how it would be nice if they could have a dog just like him. They agreed, but I could tell they had little hope such a thing could ever come to pass.

“This is a really nice car,” Iris said from the back seat.

“Yeah,” Pansy agreed. “We don’t have to sit sideways like in the truck.”

“Did your mom and Ben take the truck?” I asked.

“Iris drove it into the trees,” Daisy said proudly. “She didn’t even hit one.”

I looked at Iris, whose face turned crimson. “We wanted people to think we left,” she said, “but I’d never drive on the road without a license.”

Rose was gone. Ben was gone. Neither had left in the family vehicle.

Each girl had packed a bag—literally, since they didn’t have suitcases. When we got to the house, I put them in our only guest room, which was fine with them, since they seemed to feel better staying together. Using the guest bath, each girl took a shower and put on clean clothes. They looked better, but I couldn’t help but notice that their new outfits, though cleaner than before, still screamed rummage sale.

While the girls cleaned up, Barb called Rory to tell him the morning’s events. He said he’d call the sheriff’s office, since the farm was out of his jurisdiction. He called back to report that Rob Brill, the recently elected sheriff of Milldon County, was busy with a multiple vehicle accident. He suggested Rory talk to the girls about where their parents were.

Rory arrived as I was helping Daisy put her hair into pigtails. She smelled of shampoo and soap, and I hugged her, unable to resist her cuteness. I loved raising boys, but I’ll admit it would have been nice to have one little girl to fuss over. “The police chief is going to talk to you,” I said, turning her so I could look into her eyes. “You have to tell him everything, okay?”

She nodded emphatically. “It’s a sin to tell a lie.”

“That’s true. Let’s go meet the chief.”

Rory met the girls in my living room, which we thought was a better choice than an office. He introduced himself, telling the girls he was trying to get permission for them to stay with Barb and me for a few days. I saw Pansy bite her lip at his phrasing. There were no guarantees, but foster homes are always in short supply, and I thought our reputation would serve us well. Once that was established, he set his hands on his knees and leaned forward, ready to listen. “I need you to tell me everything you can about how your parents disappeared.”

Iris glanced at Pansy, who gave the slightest of nods. Iris sighed. “A month ago, we came home from school and Momma was gone.” She paused, swallowing hard at the memory.

“Where did she go?”

“Ben said she ran away.”

Pansy made a small noise of disgust, and her lips formed the word liar.

“Pansy?”

She shivered. “Nothing.” She turned to Iris, encouraging her to go on.

Iris smoothed her hair, still wet from the shower. “We didn’t know what to do. Ben said if anyone found out our mom had left, we’d have to go to Social Services and they’d put us in foster homes. Ben said he’d take care of us if we kept up the work around the place.”

“Slave labor!” This time Pansy’s voice was audible.

“Pansy.” It was less a reprimand than a warning. Their eyes met, and that unspoken communication thing happened again. Biting her lip, Pansy turned her face downward.

Iris went on, still fiddling with her hair. “Ben said school was a waste of time, and the teachers might stick their noses in our business.” With a maturity that was heart-breaking for one so young she added, “We tried to keep up on our lessons. We read a little bit every night.”

“I can read a whole book!” Daisy announced. “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.”

“That’s really good,” Rory responded. “You’ll have to show me sometime.” He turned from littlest to oldest, a question in his eyes.

“We did what Ben said,” Iris said, putting a hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “I cooked, Pansy took care of the animals, and Daisy helped.”

“Did Ben ever—hurt you?”

“No.” It was plain Iris knew what he was thinking. “He’d holler sometimes, but he never hit us or—anything.”

I heard Barb’s sigh of relief. She’d no doubt encountered many abused children in her work as a district attorney, though she seldom spoke of it.

“Ben was never mean,” Pansy said, “His friends are weird, though.”

“Like who?”

“Nobody hurt us,” Iris said firmly, and once again, Pansy closed her lips tightly. “Nobody touched us, nobody messed with us. It was like a deal, you know? We helped out on the farm, and Ben kept us together.”

I wondered what was in it for Ben. Was he a good man who’d felt obligated to care for Rose’s daughters?

“What happened to your real father?” I asked.

Rory shot me an irritated look, and I recalled I wasn’t the interviewer. He waited for Iris to answer, though.

“He died,” Iris replied. “Daisy was only one.”

Barb picked up on the purpose of my question. “So your mom gets Social Security for the three of you?”

Iris nodded, and Barb gave me a glance of approval. The likely reason McAdams had kept Rose’s departure a secret was financial. He wanted the money meant for the girls’ welfare.

Rory took the lead again. “Did your mom and Ben ever argue?”

Before Iris could answer Pansy said, “Mom was going to leave him.”

“Did she say that?”

“Well, no, but she’d cry sometimes.” With a pained expression she added, “We just didn’t think she’d leave us too.”

Rory sensed it was time to back away from the mother’s betrayal. “Okay. We know your mother disappeared last month. When did Ben leave?”

Iris licked her lips, and Pansy spoke again, so abruptly the lie was obvious. “We got up Tuesday morning and he was gone. We didn’t know he was leaving and we don’t know where he went.” Pansy glared into empty space, meeting no one’s eyes. Iris examined her hands, clasped in her lap.

There was a brief silence, and Daisy seemed to feel the need to fill it. “He dis-dapeared,” she said, raising her hands as if to indicate a magic trick.

“What did he take with him?” Rory asked.

Pansy looked to Iris, who said after a pause that seemed too long, “The suitcase and some of his stuff. His razor, a pair of jeans, and some shirts.”

“And his toothbrush,” Pansy put in as if that were significant. “He packed his toothbrush.”

Rory asked more questions, but that was all the information he got. They got up Tuesday morning and found Ben gone. That was all they could tell us, or all they would tell.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Retta

As usual, I was the last to hear what my sisters should have told me right away. I’m always reachable by phone, either directly or by text, and while I can’t keep up with my granddaughters in speed, I’m pretty fast and I answer right away. Faye barely knows how to text, and she often turns her phone off because she thinks it saves on the battery. As for Barbara Ann, she refuses to be “on call 24/7” so she ignores her phone when she feels like it. I’ve given up trying to explain the importance of communication to them.

By the time Faye called, it was almost four o’clock. They’d brought the Isley girls into town and sent for Rory, who got little more from them than Faye and Barb had. After all that, they remembered they have a sister who’s been taking care of the old place for years, sends them a check every quarter, and might like to know what’s going on out there.

What they should have done was bring the girls to me. In the first place, they knew me, at least a little bit, since I was the person they rented from. In the second place, my home is set up for little girls, since my daughter Alys and her husband Chuck bring Peri and Pola up from Bloomfield Hills at least twice a year. Though Barbara’s house is big, it has almost no guest space. She occupies the upstairs and Faye and Dale live downstairs. The Smart Detective Agency (Oh, how I dislike that name!) offices take up a couple of rooms at the front. That leaves only one skimpy room for guests. I suspect that’s how Barbara Ann likes it.

Faye insisted the girls were fine with them. “The little one loves Buddy,” she told me, “and he’s taken to her too.”

That was a surprise. Buddy, not the loveliest of dogs by a long shot, has focused totally on Faye since she rescued him from freezing to death on a deserted road. I’ve tried to be nice to him, as has Styx, but Buddy has the nasty temperament common to strays.

“Don’t let her get her face near that dog,” I warned. “He might bite her.”

Faye laughed out loud. “Right now they’re curled up in a chair together eating cheese crackers. I think Buddy knows she needs a friend.”

The words friend and Buddy together in a sentence wouldn’t have occurred to me, so I changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about Rose Isley. I know where the shop she used to have is, and I wonder if the landlord might know if she has family somewhere.”

“It can’t hurt to ask,” Faye said. “I’m going to start supper, but call me if you find out anything.” I smiled at the enthusiasm in Faye’s voice. She enjoys nothing more than having people to cook for.

I almost pushed the end button, but I heard her say, “Wait! I wanted to let you know Cramer is going to start moving into the bunkhouse tomorrow after work. He wants to get it done over the weekend, so I told him to pick up the key from you tonight.”

“I’ll drop it off on my way through town,” I promised.

“Okay. Dale and I still plan to go out there after supper. I can’t let my horses spend their first night in a new place alone.”

“You’re going to leave Barbara with three little girls?” The image of my old maid sister dealing with that was cause for both humor and alarm.

“She says she’ll be fine.”

I ended the call, shaking my head. Faye had become a horse owner. Barb was acting as surrogate mother to three kids in crisis. I was heading out to investigate what was certainly a puzzle and possibly a crime. A person never imagines how life can change after fifty.

I remembered Rose Isley’s yarn shop because it had shared space with Ellie, a tailor I use for alterations. People think it’s great being petite, but just try buying pants that fit or a coat that doesn’t drag on the ground. Ellie’s great at refitting my garments so I don’t look like I’m wearing my older sisters’ clothes. Not that I ever would.

The building, old and saggy, had once been a mom-and-pop grocery store. When that failed, it sat empty for years before finally re-opening as a craft mall. The rooms are divided among crafters from stained glass artists to weavers to stone-cutters, and they take turns minding the store. Some had carved out a niche for themselves, as Ellie had with sewing and alterations. Others, like Rose, had to give up the struggle.

Ellie was putting things away, and checking my phone, I saw it was almost five. “I won’t keep you,” I promised, “I just want to know who the landlord is for this building.”

Looking over her half-glasses, Ellie grinned. “That would be me.”

“Really? I didn’t know you were in property management.”

She shrugged modestly. “A few years back the guy who owned this place got sick and wanted to unload it. After we dickered a little, I got a price I could afford. I figured I’d charge rent instead of paying it, and so far it’s worked out okay.”

“That’s great, first because you’re doing well and second because I have questions.”

She closed the cash register drawer and removed the key. “I’ll try to help.”

“Didn’t Rose Isley rent from you for a while?”

Ellie nodded. “When I bought the building, she had two rooms on the west side. She did beautiful work, but Rose has no head for business.” She ticked off items on her fingers. “In the first place, she practically gave her stuff away. In the second place, she’d get caught up in something she was working on and forget there were orders she was supposed to get done. And in the third place, she often closed up in the middle of the day because of some event at church she felt obligated to help with.” Ellie set a box of buttons under the counter. “People appreciate artistry, but they also expect common sense.”

“So Rose’s business failed.”

“We all tried to help her. She had a little income because of her husband’s death, but she wasn’t much good at managing that either. She’d buy a bunch of stuff from the other artists here and then not have enough for the rent either here or at home.”

“Then she met Ben McAdams.”

Ellie put things away as we talked. “I suppose he was good for her in some ways because he forced order onto the chaos that was Rose’s life.”

“They did well together, then?”

She gave a snort of disagreement. “I said in some ways. In others, not so much.” A box bumped into place on a shelf below the counter. “I met Ben the day he came to help her move her stuff out. He was nice to look at, but kind of nutty.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I saw right away why he lived out in the boonies. He looked like Jeremiah Johnson, and he barely spoke to me. Later, when he thought I couldn’t hear, he made a nasty crack about me making money off other people’s labor.” Ellie held out her arthritic hands. “Do these look like I sit back and rest while others toil around me?”

“So Rose left the co-op and went to live with Ben?”