The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2) (11 page)

“That’s what we thought.”

“I guess I should tell the sheriff about this.
I’m supposed to meet him downtown in his office in thirty minutes anyway, to show him my airline stubs.”

“Airline stubs?”

Leroy shrugged. “Guess he needs some type of proof as to when folks arrived on the property. I told him that I flew in Thursday afternoon, but apparently my word isn’t good enough. Good thing I saved the damn tickets. Would have been a hassle to get the information otherwise.”

I doubt it would have been a hassle at all to confirm Leroy’s arrival with the careful record keeping airlines maintain. I suspect the good sheriff might have some other reason for requiring Leroy to produce the documents, but I didn’t say as much. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment. I’ll let you get to it. Thanks for taking the time to look at the birds.”

“Happy to help.”

Based on what Leroy told me during our brief exchange, I realized that I could eliminate him as a suspect. He seemed confident that he could prove that he arrived Thursday afternoon, so he couldn’t have killed Charles. I also now had confirmation that the sheriff’s department was actively pursuing Charles’s death as a murder. Otherwise why would they be looking for alibis from the family members on the property?
It almost killed me to have Leroy fill the sheriff in on everything Zak, Jeremy, and I had discovered. I had a deeply felt need to be the one to put everything together and solve the mystery, but even I didn’t want to stand in the way of finding justice for Charles and Dolly’s deaths. I still hadn’t figured out how the murder fit in with the hijacked turkeys. I supposed it was possible Charles found out what was going on and the person who was stealing the birds killed him to protect his secret, but why kill Dolly?

“I should get home and relieve Zak,” I informed Jeremy. “Call me if you hear anything new. Chances are, our turkey thief, whoever he or she may be, will hear of our discovery and the replacing of turkeys will cease. Still, I’d be interested in getting the whole story.”

“I’ll keep my ears open,” Jeremy promised.

By the next day
, Maggie was doing much better, able to nurse the puppies on her own. Zak had an appointment to sign the final paperwork on the estate but promised to look in on the dogs while I was gone. I was glad Zak was officially buying the house next to mine, but I missed his company on the long drive to and from the farm. At least I only had a few days left. The turkeys were being loaded for transport to the processing facility on Sunday, they would be slaughtered there on Monday, and they’d be distributed to customers who had prepurchased the birds on Tuesday. I couldn’t believe it was going to be Thanksgiving on Thursday of next week.

“I tried to call you, but your cell was off,” Jeremy said when he greeted me with a laugh. “It’s nice to know some things never change.
They’ve arrested Bill Parker and a couple of other guys for switching out the birds.”

I remembered that Bill had been the farm manager.

“Did they confess to killing Charles and Dolly?”

“Quite the opposite. Bill and the others confessed to the switch, but everyone involved swears he isn’t guilty of either death.”

“Do we believe them?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Jeremy asked. “You’re the amateur sleuth. I’m just the sidekick.”

I thought about the situation. “Okay,” I said, working through the scenario, “Bill Parker has been Charles’s farm manager for quite some time. He comes up with a plan to switch out the birds, making a tidy profit with each switch. He gets away with it for a while, probably only switching birds ordered by turkey novices who wouldn’t notice. Everything is going well until he gets greedy when Raymond Wells places a large order during the slow season. Wells discovers the switch and sues Charles. Charles realizes what happened, settles out of court, then does his own investigation and discovers Bill’s scheme.”

“Makes sense.”

“He fires Bill and his entire crew once he has his proof,” I continued. “The question is, why would Bill come back a week later and kill Charles in his kitchen? He must have known that if the switch came out he’d be a suspect, so why continue with the ruse after we took over?”

“Maybe he, like everyone else, believed that Charles died by accident, and you and I, novices that we are, would never notice the difference between the birds.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “If Bill killed him, he would know that Charles had been murdered and wouldn’t have risked continuing to make the switches. He must have figured that, although he no longer controlled shipping and distribution, he could make a few bucks with the flock by switching them out before they were transferred. If he kept an accurate count and the turkeys he brought in weren’t sick, it would have worked.”

“Okay, so if Bill didn’t kill Charles and Dolly, who did?” Jeremy asked.

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

As Jeremy and I went through our tasks, which had become something of a routine, I tried to figure out what the connection might be between the deaths of Charles and Dolly. It occurred to me that there was a small chance—a very small chance—that the murders of these two individuals might not be related to either the turkey swap or Charles’s will.

I supposed it was possible Dolly could have had another man in her life who killed both Dolly and Charles in a jealous rage. Dolly was more than forty years younger than Charles, so it made sense that she might have been getting a little something on the side. While this possibility seemed remote, it was worth exploring further. The problem with that complicated scenario was that I was running out of time. Once the heirs completed the meet and complain that was scheduled for the next afternoon, most, if not all of them, would probably leave.

I had to admit the complicated twists and turns in the investigation were giving my migraine a migraine
. If we eliminated the idea of some sort of twisted love triangle, as I’d speculated, we were left with six of the original suspects: Mason Perot, Oliver and Olivia, Peggy and Margaret, and Brent. I had no idea if Mason had a motive, but he’d been acting somewhat secretive since I’d first met him, so I couldn’t quite bring myself to remove him from the list. Oliver, Olivia, Peggy, and Margaret had really good reasons for wanting Charles dead. Brent’s motive was less clearly defined, but I couldn’t help but feel that the journal played into the picture.

As for opportunity,
Oliver and Olivia lived close by, so they could easily have killed Charles and then returned home. Peggy and Margaret claimed they’d arrived after Leroy but could easily have arrived early, killed Charles, left, and then returned. I realized as I pondered the situation that I really didn’t know how and when Brent had arrived, but I knew he had recently met with Charles, so perhaps he’d remained in the area. Zak had mentioned that he didn’t have an alibi, so I’d assume Zak knew the answer to the question. If they all
could
have done it, how was I going to narrow things down?

After completing my work at the farm, I climbed into my truck and headed home. It had been an exhausting day both physically and emotionally. I missed Charlie’s presence in my everyday life and realized that I would be glad when this temporary job came to a close.

I knew Zak was keeping an eye on the dogs, so I decided to take a few minutes to pop in on my dad. I’d been meaning to thank him for his help on Sunday. I’d thought many times about our conversation, and for the first time in my life, I really understood that my dad had been hurt by my mother as much, if not more, than I had. I’m not sure why this had never really occurred to me before. I guess I was so busy playing the role of the poor, neglected little child that I’d never stopped to consider how my mother’s total desertion of both of us would have affected him as well.

I slowed as I approached the store my grandfather, Pappy, had built from logs he’d milled himself. The building was dark, indicating that my dad must have closed early. It had been snowing on and off all day, and I imagined Dad had wanted to get home early to take care of any shoveling that might need to be attended to.

As I passed Donovan’s, I pulled up alongside Trish’s Treasures to say hi to Trish Carson, the middle-aged woman who owned and ran the touristy shop. Trish is considered to be a staple in our community, having lived here for forty-eight of her fifty-two years.

“I see you’re getting a head start on your village,” I commented to the short, pudgy woman, who was dressed in a dark green sweatsuit.

“The shop owners’ committee finalized the story and I have the perfect pieces to depict my part. I just couldn’t wait to get started.”

Every year the shop owners along Main Street get together and devise a story that’s played out through the tiny miniature villages displayed in each store’s front window. If you view the displays from west to east, an original and charming story of small-town Christmas is conveyed. I knew the deadline for all the store owners to have their window displays complete was the day after Thanksgiving, but, like Trish, many get early starts on their masterpieces.

“Is that a new gazebo?” I asked. The scene coming to life in Trish’s window depicted a park on the edge of the lake, much like our own little town center.

“Actually, I’ve had it for a while, but until this year the window scenes I’ve been assigned haven’t really fit its inclusion.”

“It’s really beautiful. I can’t wait to see the window when it’s completed.”

“We’ve missed you at the events committee meetings the past few weeks,” Trish said, setting down the carousel and turning to face me.

“I’ve been a bit out of sorts since I lost my job. I’m working with Jeremy at a turkey farm in the valley this week, but I plan to attend the dinner next week, and the meeting the week after.”

“Hometown Christmas is scheduled for December nineteenth through twenty-second. That’s in just four weeks. The committee is counting on you to have everything ready and organized for the opening day,” Trish reminded me.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ve been working on it. Gabe Turner is planning to run the sleigh rides again this year. I’ve spoken to him several times and can assure you he’s dialed in and ready to go. Most of the food and craft vendors from last year have confirmed their intention to participate again this year. I have a few new recruits I’m still working with, but I should have all the contracts signed by the end of the month. I thought we’d set up the food court, kiddie games, and Santa’s village in the community center. That way if we get a storm, folks can still enjoy the bulk of the festivities without having to wander around outside.”

“If the vendors are all in the center, visitors will miss the windows,” Trish pointed out.

“I thought of that. The community center is on the west end of town and the park is on the east. The bulk of the businesses who participate in the window displays are between the two. I plan to have various local artists provide holiday music in the gazebo. The staging for the sleigh rides will be in the park as well. I’m looking into putting up a big tent and having a second smaller food court, as well as some of the craft vendors
, located on the east side of town. Unless the weather is really bad, I’m betting folks will walk between the two venues.”

“And the children’s play?”

“In the high-school gym.”

Trish smiled. “I should have known you’d have things handled. The committee was getting nervous when you missed so many meetings, but I knew you wouldn’t let us down. I’m glad to hear you plan to attend the community dinner as well. It’s nice when the whole town gets together to share a meal.
I’m bringing my Frito Bean Dish to the dinner again.”

“I
thought I’d do my Chicken Tortilla Casserole,” I shared.

“I ran into Zak today.” Trish continued to work on her window as we chatted. “He told me that rescue you adopted had her pups. Everything go okay?”

“We have four beautiful babies,” I confirmed.

“My collie
is getting on in years and I’m afraid I won’t have her much longer. I’ve been thinking of getting a pup. I don’t suppose any of yours are still available?”

“They’re all available,” I said. “Stop by any time and take a look.”

“I will. By the way, did Hazel ever get a hold of you about the raccoon family that settled into her attic?”

I glanced at my phone, which was, predictably, turned off. “I guess my phone is off. I’ll check my messages when I get home.”

“She’d like to have them relocated before the snow we’re expecting next week.”

“I’ll stop by in the morning and see what I can do,” I promised.

Prior to my being fired, it was my job to monitor and control domestic animals in the area. The fact that Jeremy and I could always be counted on to handle wildlife issues as well had been an added bonus.

“You might call Ernie Young, too. I heard he found a stray dog in his shed. He mentioned that he was going to call you about finding a permanent placement for the little guy.”

“I’ll call him as well.”