Till the Cows Come Home (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

The shock in the room was tangible.

Jude bent over at the waist like someone had punched him, and I dropped Marianne, not wanting to touch her. She smoothed out her blouse, smirking, and I went to the other side of the room before I did something I’d regret.

After ten years, Jethro and Belle arrived. I watched them park and walk slowly toward the house, not sure what to expect. Keeping an eye on Jude and Marianne, I opened the front door.

“What’s happening?” Belle whispered. She eyed my biker outfit curiously.

Jethro pushed himself in. “What the hell is going on? That’s the strangest phone call I’ve ever gotten. ‘Come over before I kill my wife’?” He gestured wildly, looking from Jude to Marianne, then finally at me.

“It was my idea,” I said.

“That he kills Marianne?” Spittle flew from Jethro’s mouth.

“Of course not.”
Although that may not be such a bad idea
. “I meant that he called you. It seemed the best thing at the time.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Belle put her hand on his arm. “I think we should sit down and hear what they have to say.”

She pulled Jethro over to the sofa and pushed him into it. Jude was too tense to sit, and stood like a statue where he was. Marianne, a strange smile on her face, slowly walked to the La-Z-Boy and sank into it, looking intently at something down toward her feet.

“So?” Jethro said.

Jude looked at me, but I held up my hands. “Not my ball game anymore, Jude.”

“But—”

“No. I have problems of my own to take care of. Thanks to your wife.”

Jethro and Belle looked at me with confusion, but Marianne didn’t react at all, keeping her eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. Jude sighed and turned toward the wall, leaning his forehead against it.

“They have a story to tell,” I said.

Marianne finally raised her head. “You know all those trips to the fertility clinic?”

If that was her opening, I didn’t want to hear the rest. I slipped out the front door.

The whole way home I tried to feel relieved and grateful that the sabotage was over. I had found the culprits. I would give Detective Willard a call, and they would be prosecuted. No matter how much I wanted to grab my twenty-two and take care of them myself, I figured I’d be better off letting the law do its thing. By the last mile of the ride, I was beginning to feel pleased with myself for having put the pieces together and taken care of my farm.

The fresh sight of my flattened heifer barn drove any feelings of success completely away. I might have stopped the sabotage, but I still had a lot of work to do to fix it all.

I drove up to the garage and parked the bike, leaving it out to cool. I set my helmet down, pulled off my biking gloves, and dropped my vest and chaps onto the seat. The lights were still on in the barn, so I figured I’d help Howie finish the after-milking clean-up.

I walked into the barn and was surprised to see the cows still clipped in. The stalls should’ve been empty and almost cleaned out by that time. Besides the cows’ presence, something else seemed strange, too, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Howie?”

I looked at the cows, either licking up the last of their grain or lying in their stalls, and was suddenly struck by the oddity. The cows’ udders were still full. The guys and I had left Howie at the start of milking almost two hours before and it looked like only the first few cows had been emptied. The milking hoses lay on the ground underneath the depleted sacks, and I could hear the motor running, but no milk was shooting through the transparent tubing.

“Howie?” I said again, a little louder.

I peered down each aisle, afraid I’d find Howie lying among the cows, having been kicked in the head or struck down by a heart attack, but he wasn’t there. A whining sound came from behind me and I suddenly realized Queenie hadn’t met me in the drive.

I turned to walk into the feed room and almost tripped over Howie, who was lying on the floor with a gaping hole in his stomach. Blood was everywhere, spattered on the walls, the feed bins, even Queenie, who lay with her face on her paws right by Howie’s head.

“Oh, my God,” I breathed.

I dropped to my knees by Howie and looked into his glassy, still eyes. Trying to stem my panic, I put my face by his mouth and after a few horrible seconds could feel the barest of breath.

“Howie, you ugly old bastard,” I said. “Don’t you dare die on me.” My voice shook.

I looked around frantically. One of my flannel shirts was hanging by a nail on the wall and I yanked it down and wadded it up on Howie’s stomach. I talked to keep myself from crumbling.

“You’re not old enough to retire, Howie, but I would’ve let you have a vacation. If that’s what this is all about.”

Howie made a choking sound, and for a petrifying moment I thought he’d stopped breathing. I leaned down into his face and hoped I wasn’t imagining the fluttery air on my cheeks. He didn’t seem to see me, but the choking sound could’ve been in response to my voice. I kept up my patter, knowing I should call 911, but afraid to leave him.

“Dammit, Howie. Can’t I let you for an hour or two? Do I have to hire Mallory to come baby-sit when I go away?”

Queenie’s ears perked up and I heard someone drive in the lane. The vehicle’s door opened and closed.

“Help!” I screamed. “Whoever’s out there! Help!”

I heard footsteps coming toward the barn. “Stella?”

“Call 911!”

Nick came running into the barn and followed my voice. When he looked around the corner, the blood drained from his face and he stopped still.

“Call 911!” I yelled. He still didn’t move. “Nick!” I threw a handful of grain at him, and he sputtered. “Call from my office!”

Nick shivered, then turned and sprinted away. I could hear him clattering around, opening my door, and then the staccato of his voice on the phone.

I sneaked a look under the now blood-soaked shirt at Howie’s stomach and tried to assess the damage. From what I could see, Howie didn’t have much of an abdomen left. His insides were all mixed together, along with blood, grain, and straw from the floor. I put the shirt back and started to say the only prayer I could remember. “Now I lay me down to sleep—”

Nick came running back to the feed room. “They’re on their way. My God, what happened?”

I shook my head. “I think…I think he’s been shot.” Nick put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. A sob fought its way up my throat and I forced myself to take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Go out and wait for them,” I said. “I want them in here right away.”

“Sure.” He gave my shoulder another squeeze and ran outside.

Queenie whimpered, and I stroked her head. She was lying on the opposite side of Howie, and she laid her head back onto her paws, her nose at Howie’s cheek. I lay down, too, and put my mouth by Howie’s ear, wrapping my arm around his chest and holding him tightly.

“You should’ve seen Hubert. I swear he pissed his pants when Jermaine walked in. He looked at us like he’d been kidnapped by the Hell’s Angels. If he’d known Bart’s a regular churchman and Jermaine’s got the sweetest baby daughter in the world, our plan wouldn’t have worked.”

My voice broke and I pushed my face into Howie’s neck. I got myself together and continued.

“He didn’t really admit to it all, but I guess I didn’t give him much of a chance. All I know is he wouldn’t come near us now at gunpoint.”

That stopped me cold.

“But Hubert’s not it, Howie. You’ll never believe it. It was Marianne who did the worst of it. Zach’s calf, Cleopatra, the barn.”

Howie gurgled, and my heartbeat was skyrocketing when I finally heard sirens—for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. It was the sweetest sound in the world. I heard doors opening and closing, and Nick’s voice, then feet running toward us.

The tiny room filled with paramedics, and claustrophobia came roaring out of nowhere. One of the guys grabbed at my arm on Howie’s chest, and I kicked him in the shin. Another tried to move my legs, but I fought and kicked until he let go, and I laid my head back down by Howie’s ear.

“Hey,” Nick said gently. I felt his hand on my back. “These folks want to help Howie, but they can’t unless they can get to him.”

My muscles relaxed slightly, but I didn’t let go of Howie.

“You and Queenie have taken care of him up to now,” Nick said. “It’s time to let these people have a turn. Okay?”

I took a deep breath and turned my head to look at him. His face was kind and serious, and I suddenly realized I was acting like a crazy person. I got up on my elbow, stroked Howie’s face with my hand, and put my mouth down to his ear.

“Don’t you die, Howie, old man.” I pressed my cheek against his. “Queenie and I love you.”

I took Nick’s hand and let him help me up. “C’mon, Queenie.” I didn’t think she’d obey, but she finally came to my outstretched hand.

As soon as we were out of the room I heard lots of noise, and before I knew what was happening, Howie was on a stretcher, being hustled out to the ambulance. I ran after them and tried to get in the back, but the doors slammed before I could get in.

“Wait!” I screamed, but the ambulance was already hurtling down the driveway, siren blaring.

Nick came up beside me and I grabbed him, forcing him toward his truck. I threw him in the passenger’s side and pushed him toward the steering wheel, then jumped in after him. “Follow them!”

Nick got the truck started and floored it. We caught up to the ambulance and stayed right behind them, running the traffic lights and avoiding other cars, all the way to the hospital. I had the door open before the truck had stopped, and was as close as they’d let me get while they pushed Howie into the emergency room. I followed until we arrived at some double doors where two orderlies were standing guard.

“Sorry, Miss,” one said. “This is as far as you go.”

I took a step toward the door, and he put a hand on my arm. I looked down at his thick fingers and how they firmly grasped my elbow. Resigned, I pulled away and dropped onto a vinyl couch to wait.

A few minutes later, Nick came in and sat by me. I hadn’t even missed him. He just sat there, not speaking, not touching me. He was just there.

Every few minutes I broke the monotony of the sitcom on the wall-mounted TV by jumping up and pacing the room until I felt even worse, so I’d sit again. Nick didn’t say anything or try to stop me.

“Stella!” Abe came running into the waiting room during one of my “up” stages and stopped in front of me, looking at my clothes. I glanced down and was shocked at all the blood. I was also surprised to see I was still in my blacks and boots.

“You okay?” Abe asked.

“No, I’m not, Abe.”

“Sorry. Stupid thing to say.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Nick called and told me what happened. He thought you might want me here.”

I turned to Nick and he looked away, studying the tile on the floor. The man kept surprising me.

“Anything I can do?” Abe asked.

“Nothing much
to
do. We’re just…waiting.”

Abe sat in one of the other vinyl chairs and became a part of the vigil. The guys sat, and I alternated between sitting and pacing, until the double doors opened and a man in a blue surgical outfit came out, looking serious and sad.

“No,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I turned and walked out of the emergency room. I didn’t know where I was going, except out of the hospital. I somehow got to the road and kept walking. In the midst of my fog, Nick soon pulled his truck ahead of me and stopped. He stepped out and opened the passenger door. I got in.

He drove around for a while, taking a couple of secluded, country roads, and eventually headed back to my place. I sat in the truck, my head resting against the side window, and watched the fields, traffic, and houses go by, until the house I finally saw was my own.

Chapter Twenty-Six

We sat in the driveway for a few minutes, saying nothing and sitting completely still, until I noticed we weren’t alone. There were at least three police cars, an unmarked van, and two other cars crowded into my driveway.

“Oh, God,” I said. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

After few more minutes of frozen silence, I took a deep breath and stepped down from the truck. Queenie came slinking up and I knelt and put my arms around her neck, burying my face in her fur. I sat there until I felt Nick’s hand on my shoulder.

“Looks like you’ve got more company.”

A cherry-red VW Bug pulled up and Missy got out, accompanied by a skinny and pale Zach. They stood by the car, behind the doors, seemingly unsure how I’d react to seeing them. I stood up and looked from one to the other.

“We hear the cows are in need of milking,” Missy said. Her eyes flicked to Nick, and I was sure he’d been the one who’d made the call.

I turned to Zach. His shoulders jumped in a kind of agreement, but he didn’t look at me.

“They are,” I said. I had forgotten all about them standing in their stalls, udders tight and unforgiving.

Missy waved toward the barn. “We’re here to help.”

“You sure you feel up to it?” I asked Zach.

His shoulders moved again, and I took that for a yes.

Nick gave me a gentle push, and I used the momentum to send me toward my house. Zach was sneaking peeks at my bloody clothes, and I knew I needed to change.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Missy nodded and they shut the car doors. I went in, stripped off my jeans and shirt, and shoved them into the trash can. The washer wouldn’t be able to get out everything I needed it to.

A few minutes later I was in different pants and a tank top. Missy and Zach followed me to the milkhouse, where Officer Rude stopped me.

“You can’t come in here.”

I took a deep breath and stepped closer to him. He straightened up, but didn’t back away.

“Listen, Meadows,” I said. “If you don’t let me in, these cows are going to riot. They have extremely full udders, and if I don’t milk them, they will get sick, contract mastitis, and end up with other sicknesses I don’t have the time to explain to you, but will blame you for. Besides, if you don’t let me by, I will personally take your nightstick and beat your head in.”

“Just a minute—”

“It’s okay, Officer Meadows.” Detective Willard stepped up and put a restraining hand on the policeman’s shoulder.

“You?” I said.

He looked terrible, gray and fatigued, but I didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for him. He met my eyes and tilted his head toward the cows. “You need to get these girls milked, don’t you, Ms. Crown?”

I nodded shortly.

He pulled Meadows aside and stepped in front of him. “All I ask is that you stay out of the feed room and anywhere else you don’t absolutely have to be, okay? You work around us, and we’ll work around you.”

I considered this request and even in my numb state decided it was reasonable. “Okay.”

Willard stepped aside and I went in, flanked by my two self-appointed assistants. Officer Meadows glowered. The two people collecting evidence in the feed room and parlor didn’t even look up. Missy and Zach stood in front of me, and I finally realized they needed instructions.

“Zach, go get some feed from the feed barn. Start with the hay. Missy, grab the paper towels and a bucket and start cleaning off the teats.”

Silently, they both did my bidding. I stood by the first cow—one of the few who had been milked—and rested my forehead on her back. I breathed in her smell and warmth, listening to the thumping of her heart until my brain started to work again. I pushed off of her and began putting the milkers on the cows Missy had prepared.

Zach had finished with hay and was pouring out grain, and Missy was halfway done with cleaning, when Detective Willard showed up beside me.

“Any chance I could steal you away for a few minutes?”

I was shaking my head when Missy spoke. “I think I could handle this part. I did it last time, remember?”

She must have seen doubt on my face, because she added, “Besides, Zach’s here if I need help. He’s done this hundreds of times.”

I looked at Zach over the cows’ backs, and he finally made eye contact with me. I raised my eyebrows and he jerked his head yes.

“Okay. Looks like I’ve got enough back-up. Let’s go to my office.”

“Well, um, we’ve kind of already gotten set up in there.”

I stared at Willard and he looked embarrassed. “We needed a phone and a desk to work on. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“Damn straight.”

I marched in front of him to my office and flung open the door. The first thing I noticed was Pam Moyer sitting in one of the chairs. I ignored her, because Officer Meadows was sitting in my chair, using my phone, and writing with my pen on a piece of paper taken from my printer. I walked over to him, took the receiver from his hand and replaced it on the cradle. Then I slid my pen out of his fingers, lifted him by the armpits, and dumped him on the floor. I floated the piece of paper over his head and he snatched at it before it hit the ground.

“Thank you, Officer,” I said, and sat down. “Have a seat, Detective.”

Meadows stood up, sputtering and angry, until he noticed the detective and Pam were simply staring at him, not offering any sympathy. He shut his mouth.

“That will be all for now, Officer Meadows,” Willard said.

“But—”

“I’ll let you know when you’re needed.”

Meadows stomped out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

I looked at Pam. She held her hands out, then let them drop to her lap. “God, Stella, I’m so sorry.”

I swallowed. “Thank you.”

“I just…I stopped by to see if there’s anything I can help with.”

Her eyes started to water, and I pushed my fingers against my own. “I can’t think of anything right now. Maybe later.”

She studied my face for a few moments, then stood and turned to Willard. “If you don’t need me, Detective, I’ll get out of the way. But please give me a call if something comes up that I can do.”

She left, closing the door quietly.

Willard looked at me, his eyes sad.

I spun my chair away from him and focused on the photograph of my farm. Anything to keep my thoughts off of Howie lying on the feed room floor. I could feel Willard scrutinizing me. He dove right in.

“You’re Mr. Archer’s next of kin, am I right?”

“Not exactly,” I said to the photograph. “But the closest either of us had. He’s been the farmhand here ever since I can remember. Helped me keep the place going when my mother died. Been here ever since.”

“And you’re the daughter he never had.”

“We never talked about it that way.”

“Okay. Tell me what happened today.”

I took a deep breath and my brain locked up. I didn’t want to remember what had happened that day, even though I figured it somehow had to do with everything that had been going on. Apparently, talking with Marianne and scaring the shit out of Hubert hadn’t solved anything.

“Please, Ms. Crown.”

“Well, you know about the dead cows, the manure lagoon, and that phone call I asked you to trace. I thought I’d figured out the puzzle.” I swung my chair around to his surprised face. “I thought I’d taken care of it, too.”

Ten minutes later I had outlined everything that had happened that afternoon, and stopped at the point where I pulled into the drive after visiting Hubert and Marianne. My throat closed.

Willard must have seen it happen, because he said, “I’ll be right back,” and left the office, closing the door gently behind him. I laid my head face-down on the desk and concentrated on my breathing until I heard the door open. Willard set a glass of water in front of me.

“Take your time.” He left the room again.

At first I sipped at the water, then had a bout of thirst and guzzled the whole thing. By the time Willard came back in, I was pacing the room.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Hubert, other than being a horse’s ass, is harmless. I wouldn’t mind if he’d get run over by a truck, but that’s just because he’s annoying and pathetic. And however sick it was of Marianne to kill those cows, that’s still not the same as killing another person. Besides, I was with them both this evening, while Howie was.…” I couldn’t go on.

“Either one could’ve hired somebody.”

“I don’t think so.” I stopped in front of the wall and pounded on it. “It seems wrong, somehow. Why would they want Howie dead? They both know me well enough to realize that losing him will just make me work all the harder to keep my farm.”

“Which means—”

“Which means that someone else is fucking with me. Someone else had a reason for Howie to be dead.” I pounded the wall again. “And whoever it is better be keeping a watch out for me.”