Sleuthing at Sweet Springs (The Sleuth Sisters Mysteries Book 4) (26 page)

I was pleased to be the one to tell Clara she really could go home soon, though her doctor urged her to stay in Allport until someone moved into one of the other properties. That was more than likely, since Gabe and Mindy were ninety percent sure they’d be getting a loan to buy the Marsh place.

“It’s kinda old and kinda small,” Gabe told Dale and me (looking mostly at Dale). “But Fred Marsh said his family likes the idea that we’re a young couple willing to work to fix it up ’stead of tearing it down and putting in a modular or something.” Just as I wondered if Mindy’s mother was saying prayers for the loan to go through Gabe added, “Mrs. Gains said she’d cosign for us if we need her to.” They were sweet kids, but after a year of having them under her roof, Mom would probably throw in cash for the down payment, too.

Gabe also told us about Mindy’s dream, and while he wasn’t clear on the details, it sounded like a worthwhile idea. “Mindy wants Allport to turn into a place where old people don’t have to leave their homes,” he said. “If you was to get all the churches and community organizations together with the city and the county and set up a plan, they could make it so there’s help available for people on something that slides.”

“A sliding scale?”

He pointed at me. “That’s it. It means they pay what they can and we figure out the rest. People like me will donate hours of work or bank them for the future, for when our parents are so old they need help. The rest of the money would come from local charities and government programs. Mindy says it’s a lot cheaper to keep people in their homes than it is to put them in 24/7 care, ’specially if they can still do some stuff themselves.”

“Makes the tax base more stable too,” Dale put in. “Not so many empty properties sitting around the county.”

“I’ve heard Barb speak of something like that, but she said it would take someone young and energetic to set it up. You’d have to do a lot of convincing to get people to buy into the idea.”

“Well, that’s Mindy,” Gabe said proudly. “We’re gonna start on our own, the two of us, so we can show everybody it’s possible. We’ll work weekends and maybe some nights too.”

“I think that’s great, Gabe.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Burner. Mindy says Jesus would like it.”

“I’m one hundred percent certain she’s right, and I’ll be glad to introduce Mindy at my church whenever she’s ready to start signing people up.”

“Do you really think it will work?” Dale asked after Gabe left.

“They’ll need support, but Barb might be willing to help. With her practical experience, people can’t say it’s only the pipe dream of a young, idealistic social worker.”

“I’ll bet Retta could get support for the project, too. She knows everybody, and she’s never been afraid to ask for what she wants.”

“True. I’ll include her when I get Barb and Mindy together.”

***

“It will be nice to have young people out there again,” Clara said when I told her. She’d taken Gail’s malevolence stoically, glad to have a reason for her own odd behavior. We stressed that Gail hadn’t known about the killing of Caleb Marsh or the burning of the Warner’s house. In fact, Gail’s objections to those things had probably caused Diane Landon to kill her, though she wasn’t admitting to anything. Rory assured us she wouldn’t get away with her crimes. “Anybody who kidnaps little old ladies is just as likely to commit murder and arson.”

Enright Landon was horrified by his wife’s behavior, though Rory said he hadn’t seemed particularly surprised. “He’s probably had plenty of opportunity to see a difference between her public persona and the one he dealt with at home,” Rory observed.

“I’ll take some cookies over to that young couple as soon as I’m able,” Clara said now as we sat opposite each other, working on a jigsaw puzzle. “I know things about that old house they need to hear, like how you fix the furnace when it quits. All it takes is a big needle and a flashlight.”

“I bet they’ll need all kinds of help from you.”

“And you’re sure my chickens are all right?”

“Yes. My sisters got them all back in the pen while you and I were at the hospital.”

Clara reached over to pat my arm. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt. I feel bad about Gail, but—” She stopped. “I recall she had a cat. Will you see if anyone took the poor thing? If not, I always have room for another animal.”

“That would be a nice thing for you to do.”

“Good. Now go visit your mother-in-law. You shouldn’t spend all your time with me.”

“Dale’s with her,” I said. “Besides, when Dale and I came into the room she asked where Rettie was. She likes my sister better than she likes me, even if she never gets her name right.”

“Harriet is very proud of you, Faye. She brags about you all over this place, about how you catch criminals and show the police how it’s done.” She chuckled. “It was a lifesaver for me when I heard there was a private detective who visited regularly.” She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you girls hadn’t helped me out.”

“We were glad to.” My mind stuck on what she’d just said. “It’s hard to imagine my mother-in-law praising me or my work.”

Clara waved my disbelief away. “Like other women I’ve known, Harriet resented your taking away her baby boy all those years ago. Now she needs you, which means she has to admit she was wrong—I guess to everyone but you.” Clara’s expression turned sad. “It’s hard for her to acknowledge her own children don’t care enough to act in her best interest, but the woman she’s bad-mouthed for years does.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, I can assure you she’s quite obnoxious about it.” Clara’s eyes glinted with humor behind her thick glasses.

Giving her a hug, I promised to see her soon. Dale and I planned to escort her when she was allowed to move back home.

As I entered Harriet’s room, Dale and his mother sat silently, her in the wheelchair and Dale on the bed. A sitcom played on the TV, and they watched without interest. When I sat down beside Dale, Harriet asked, “How is the Knight woman doing?”

“She’s doing well.”

“Word is she’s going home.” Her tone was resentful.

“Yes.” It was odd that Harriet couldn’t remember the last time we’d visited but was able to pick up the gossip at the Meadows and remember it, especially the things we didn’t want her to. I tried to prevent the argument I knew was imminent. “It was a mistake that Clara came here.”

She huffed in disgust. “This whole place is a mistake.” Turning to Dale she demanded, “Why can’t I go home? Did you sell my house?”

“No, Mom, we didn’t sell your house.”

“Then why can’t I go home?”

Dale’s face flushed, and I stepped in. “How would you get up and down all those steps?”

It was our tried-and-true excuse, because Harriet had to agree. “No. I couldn’t do that.” Sticking out her jaw, she vowed, “When they’re not looking, I’m going to practice walking. When I can get around on my own again, you can take me back home.”

“Why don’t you ask Derrick to help?” I suggested. “He’ll keep you from falling and hurting yourself.” It was like a skit we did over and over. Harriet liked Derrick, who was clever enough to promise he’d help her practice walking as soon as he could and then hurry away as if too busy at the moment. It was how we kept her in the wheelchair instead of in a heap on the tile floor.

“That’s what I’ll do,” Harriet said. “I’ll ask Derrick.”

When we left a few minutes later, Dale squeezed my arm. “You can always handle her.”

“Years of experience,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

Holding the door for me, he said, “I’m sorry, Faye.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “Your life, I guess. You got stuck with a man who wasn’t much to start with then got worse. You have a mother-in-law who’s never given you a break.” Setting his cap on his head, he finished, “Retta and Barb had their troubles, but they’ve got nice houses and money to buy what they want.”

“Stop right there, Dale Burner!” I followed him to the passenger side of the car and backed him up against the door. “Don’t tell me about my life. I married you because I loved you, and I still love you. Your mother can be as ornery as she wants. I don’t care. You and I are together, and that’s what I want. Not money, not a big house, not an expensive car—though I’ll be glad to get mine back and not have to borrow Barb’s.” I put my arms around his neck. “Whatever life hands us, we’re going to handle it—together.”

“Get a room!” said a voice behind us, and I turned to see two teenagers passing. They were clearly shocked at the sight of two old people apparently necking.

I looked back at Dale, and the humor of the moment caught up with us. Smiling at each other, we stood in our embrace for a moment longer before I backed away. “Let’s go home, Mr. Burner.”

“Okay with me, Mrs. Burner.”

Rory made dinner for us at his place the night after Diane Landon’s arrest. As we dined on his version of Chicago-style pizza, which was delicious, we pooled information. “Stan Wozniak didn’t seem like a killer to me,” I said, “and I checked on Rick Chou, our other suspect. He wasn’t in Allport Labor Day weekend, and he has no connections to industry.” I smiled. “The guy apparently makes his money as a hand and foot model for commercials.”

“Foot model? You mean like for foot fungus ads?”

I shrugged. “Someone has to do it. Anyway, that narrowed it down to one or both of the Landons as Gail’s partner.”

“And her eventual killer.”

Rory supplied details about the crimes. “In the back of Diane’s car we found the clothing she wore when she played someone else. Along with the disguise she used to get Clara out of the Meadows, she had several men’s outfits, all padded to change her body shape. We found the boots that made the footprint on Marsh’s porch, and an assortment of hats, gloves, wigs, and theater makeup. One outfit is probably what she wore in Florida to pose as the gang-banger at the ATMs. Another is like what Retta described as the man who threatened her with a hoe at Clara’s place. That one smelled like smoke, so I’m guessing she wore it to set fire to the Warner place—”

I interrupted. “When was Retta threatened with a hoe?”

Rory’s eyes widened as he realized I didn’t know about that. “Forget I said anything, okay?”

I sighed. Retta was hopeless. If I let on that I knew, she’d blame Rory for tattling, and it wouldn’t change any future action she might take. We’d just have to watch her more closely.

“Can you prove Diane killed Gail or Mr. Marsh?”

“Marsh’s death will be tough to prove. She covered her tracks pretty well.”

“The footprint on his porch?”

“It puts her there, but being on the guy’s porch doesn’t prove she killed him.”

I was disappointed. “How about Gail?”

“There we’ve been luckier. Diane acted quickly on that one, which meant she made mistakes.” Rory settled in closer and put his arm around me. “We think Gail called Diane when she began to suspect crimes were being committed in order to get the properties on Sweet Springs. Sensing Gail was getting cold feet, Diane suggested they meet at the springs.”

“Where she killed her.”

“Hey, this is my story, let me tell it,” he said in mock disgust. “With her fear of water, Diane knew there was no way she’d get Gail out on the dock. She hit her with something—”

“Probably the hoe she chased Retta with,” I grumbled.

“They’re checking that as we speak. Anyway, she hit her hard enough to daze her, then carried her to the end of the dock, where she bashed Gail’s head against a post so it looked like she fell in out there.”

“Carrying Gail that far couldn’t have been easy.”

He shrugged. “You can’t say the woman wasn’t determined.”

“I guess not.” I snuggled against him. “But she’s certainly evil.”

***

When I got home that night, The Brat was waiting, angry but still beautiful. When she smelled that I’d brought some beef home, she let me pet her as she ate, making little growly noises in the back of her throat. When the meat was gone, she stayed, arching her back as I continued stroking her fur.

“Are you full, or should I get a kitty treat for dessert?”

To my amazement, the cat stepped daintily into the room. I dropped into the chair that sat beside the window, and she hopped onto my lap as if it were something we did every night. Holding my breath, I kept petting, and after a few seconds, she curled herself into a circle and lay down. I imagined mentioning casually to Faye in the morning that I’d adopted a cat.

“If we’re a couple now,” I asked the warm ball of fur on my lap, “are we pet and owner or cat and servant?”

In answer, the cat closed her eyes and began to purr.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maggie Pill is also Peg Herring, but Maggie’s much younger and cooler.

Visit
http://maggiepill.maggiepillmysteries.com
and Peg’s site
http://pegherring.com
for more great mysteries.

Have you read Book #1,
The Sleuth Sisters
, yet?

Learn how the sisters started their detective agency, found a long-lost murder suspect, and almost went from three sisters to two.

How about Book #2,
3 Sleuths, 2 Dogs, 1 Murder
?

When Retta’s “gentleman friend” is arrested for murder, the sisters must brave a winter wilderness, far removed from any chance of rescue. Three determined women, with help from two dogs and a pair of horses, can do anything. Sister Power!

And Book #3,
Murder in the Boonies

Renters on the family farm disappear without a trace, and the sisters are left to solve the mystery, deal with a menagerie, and stop a plot that would spell disaster for Michigan’s famous Mackinac Island.

Books available from Amazon (print, e-book, & audiobook) and Ingram (print only).