2 A Deadly Beef (13 page)

Her
reply was instant, and emphatic.  "No, I don’t have a clue
about how it happened.  I was in the house trying to make some sense of my
brother’s checking account when I heard something outside.  Ron was
doing a little work for me, at Sally’s request, and I hurried out to see
what had happened.  It was quite a shock finding him on the ground like
that with the bloody toolbox so close to his head, I can tell you that. 
Do the doctors happen to have a prognosis yet?"

This
one I could answer honestly, at least technically, since the only thing
we’d heard was from Gracie, a nurse, not a doctor.  "Not that
we’ve heard," I said.

"Well,
I hope he’s going to be all right.  I feel a bit responsible for it,
since the accident happened here.  At least Wally had insurance, so I
don’t have to worry about finding the money to pay Ron’s hospital
bills.  Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to find out how long my
barn is going to be held hostage by the sheriff.  The realtor refuses to
come out to assess the farm until he can examine it all."

"You
really are in a hurry to sell, aren’t you?" I asked.

"This
farm isn’t doing anyone any good now sitting idle," she
answered.  As she walked toward the barn, she said, "I trust you two
have other things to do."

"We
always do," Moose said, trying to smile as he said it.

"Then
I’ll leave you to them," she replied.

I
looked at Moose, who just shrugged as we walked back to his truck. 
"What was that all about?" I asked him.

"It
was quite the brush-off.  Jan was finished with us," he said. 
"Thanks to you."

"Why,
because I told her the truth and kept you from lying about just how much we
really knew about Ron’s condition?"

"I
was handling things just fine on my own," Moose said.

"That’s
what I was afraid of.  It doesn’t matter now, though, what’s
done is done.  Should we head back to the diner?"

Moose
frowned, and then said, "Victoria, we’re already out this
way.  Why don’t we drop in on Sally and pay her a little
visit?"

"Do
you honestly think she rigged the accident here all the way from her farm next
door?" I asked.

"There’s
no way to know that at the moment, but I figure if we squeeze her a little, we
might get lucky and get something out of her."

"I’m
game if you are, but Moose, we stick to the truth, okay?"

He
considered my proposal as he drove out onto the highway and headed for
Sally’s place.  "How about if we shade things just a little if
the occasion presents itself?"

"I
just don’t want either one of us caught in a direct lie," I said.

"I
can live with that," Moose said with a grin.  "What would I do
without you tagging along acting as my conscience, Victoria?"

"For
one thing, you’d most likely be lying through your teeth with an
alarmingly regular frequency, and for the other, your life would be dull,
listless, and devoid of all meaning," I said with a grin.

"I
might not go that far myself, but I have to admit, things are quite a bit
livelier with you around."

"You
know what?  I’ll take that as a compliment, no matter what the
original intent was," I said with a smile as we turned off toward
Sally’s farm.

"I’m
glad, because that was how it was meant."

As we
neared Sally Ketchum’s place, I found myself hoping that this visit would
be more productive than it had in the past.

It was
time to push a little harder and see if we could shake anything loose from
another of our suspects.

"Do
you need a hand with that?" Moose asked as we got out of his truck near
Sally’s barn.  She was parked inside, loading up crates marked Fresh
Produce into the back of her truck, and she looked startled to see us.

"Sure,
why not?  It’s tough doing this all by myself."

As
Moose and I jumped in to help, I said, "Speaking of your farmhand, we
just left the hospital."

She
nodded.  "I haven’t had a chance to get over there yet
myself.  Farm work is never done, you know what I mean?  How’s
he doing?"

"I’m
sorry to say that he’s in a coma right now," I said.

Sally
shook her head.  "That is an honest shame.  I tell you, If
I’d known what he was getting himself into over there, I never would have
let him go in the first place."

"I
thought it was your suggestion," I said.

"No
way.  I’m too busy working over here at the moment to give up my
help, but Jan implied that if I didn’t send Ron over there for a few days
to help her out, she wasn’t going to sell the farm to me.  I
didn’t have much choice, and look what happened."

That
wasn’t the way we’d heard it, but which woman was telling us the
truth?  More importantly, with Ron in a coma, how could we even find out?

The
three of us finished loading the last of the crates, and Sally said,
"I’m sorry I didn’t get over to the hospital quicker, but
there’s no reason to go now, especially if he won’t even know if
I’m there or not."

"It
still might be nice for him to hear your voice," I suggested. 
"I’ve read that some people in comas respond to familiar voices."

"Frankly,
I don’t have the time to spare, and to be honest with you, my voice
isn’t all that familiar to him," Sally said.  "When he
worked for Wally, we didn’t have much contact with each other, and he
hasn’t been here long at all.  I’m afraid we’re pretty
much strangers who happened to work together for a little while."

"Where
did he sleep?" Moose asked.  "Did he stay on the farm?"

Sally
pointed to one corner of the barn.  "I had a tack room there that I
built for my horses, but since they’re all gone, I made it into a bedroom
when Ron came to work for me."

"Mind
if I have a look around?" I asked.

Sally
looked surprised by my request.  "I’m not so sure that’s
a good idea.  That’s kind of an invasion of the man’s privacy
when he’s lying in a hospital bed in a coma, isn’t it? 
Besides, what happened to him was an accident.  What good would it do you
to snoop around in his stuff?"

"What
if it wasn’t an accident, though?" Moose asked.

Sally
whirled around and stared at him.  "It was a rotten floorboard in
the loft.  At least that’s what the deputy told me, and I’ve
seen Wally’s barn.  There’s no reason to believe
otherwise."

"Sure,
that’s what it looks like," Moose acknowledged, "but what if
the scene was rigged to look like that after someone attacked Ron from
behind?"

Sally
jumped off the bed of her truck and slammed the tailgate closed.  She
leaned against the gate as she said, "I never even thought about that as
a possibility.  No offense, but why would anyone want to hurt Ron? 
He’s an okay farmhand, but the man didn’t exactly do anything to
make any enemies, at least not as far as I could tell.  Besides,
I’ve seen Wally’s toolbox.  That thing was too heavy to swing
at someone’s head."

Sally
made several good points, but I wasn’t about to let it go.  "What
if he saw something that he shouldn’t have while he was working at
Wally’s farm?" I asked.  "Could he have been attacked
because of that?"

"Wally
might not have been a very good farmer, but he wasn’t a criminal. 
What could Ron have possibly seen that could lead someone to try to kill
him?"

"That’s
what we’ve been trying to find out," I said.  "We were
kind of hoping that you might be able to help us."

"I
wish I could, and that’s the truth," Sally said.  "But
I’m at a loss, and I don’t have time to stand around here and
speculate.  I’ve got to deliver this load, and then I’ve got
more to do on my list today than I’ll ever manage to get done if I work
until midnight.  Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’ve got to lock
up and then make this delivery.  Sorry I couldn’t help more."

"You
were more help than you realize," I said.

She
looked at me a little oddly, but all I could do was smile, since I wasn’t
exactly sure what I’d just meant, either.  Moose and I walked out of
the barn, and after Sally pulled her pickup truck out, she stopped and locked
the door behind her.

"Most
folks around these parts don’t lock their barns up," Moose said.

"Ordinarily
I wouldn’t, either, but I’m afraid that’s a luxury I
can’t afford these days.  It’s just me working the place right
now with Ron hurt, and I don’t want to give anybody the wrong idea that
what I’ve got here is free for the taking while I’m away."

"I
can understand that," I said, but I was disappointed that Moose and I
couldn’t sneak back and check Ron’s room in the barn after Sally
was gone.  If there was something tied in with the case there, we
weren’t going to be the ones who found it.

Sally
got back into her truck and drove away, but I noticed that she hung back a
little to be certain that we were following her.

"Where
to now?" I asked Moose.

"I
suppose we could trail Sally as she delivers her produce, but I doubt it would
do us much good.  Let’s go back to the diner."

"That
sounds good to me," I said.

As we
drove back into town, Sally’s truck was never far ahead of us, and it
didn’t turn off until we were nearly at The Charming Moose. 

Back
at the diner, Jenny Hollister was still twenty minutes away from coming in to
start her shift at four.  Moose and I had found a way to squander most of
the day with our investigation, without much noticeable result. 
Ordinarily I would have been at the diner for the past few hours to run the
register and wait on tables, but Martha had ably stepped up to take my place
again.  She was wiping down a table when we walked through the door, and
she smiled brightly at us both.

"It’s
good to have you two back," she said.

"I’m
so sorry we didn’t get here sooner," I said as I took the cloth
from her and finished the table. 

"This
was fun," she said.  "I like getting out every now and then."

"Martha,
if you’d like to take a shift in the rotation, we can always arrange
it," I said as I hugged her.

"No
thank you.  I’ll keep our current understanding in place, if
that’s okay with you."  She looked at Moose and asked, "Have
you eaten anything, or have the two of you been too busy to stop for a
bite?"

"I’m
not that hungry," Moose said.

She
shook her head.  "Nonsense.  Both of you sit at one of the
tables and I’ll bring you something to eat."

I
started to protest, but it fell on deaf ears.  Martha said sternly,
"Victoria, I won’t hear of it.  Don’t make me raise my
voice, young lady."

Moose
grinned at me.  "You should know better than to try to dissuade her
once she’s come to a decision.  The woman’s as stubborn as a
block of granite when she makes up her mind about something."

"And
you’re saying that you’re not?" Martha asked.

"That’s
not exactly how I’d describe it," Moose said.

"Then
you would be wrong.  I’ll be right back.  You two stay
put."

After
Martha was gone, I said, "I don’t guess we have much say in the
matter, do we?"

"Not
if either one of us knows what’s good for us," Moose said. 
"I wonder what she’s going to bring us?  We didn’t even
get a chance to order."

"You’re
not worried that it won’t be good, are you?" I asked.

"Greg’s
in the kitchen," he said with a smile.  "Whatever we get is
going to be fine."

"Just
fine?" I asked.  My husband hated that word, and I’d learned
over the years to avoid using it, though I still slipped up every now and
then.  Greg felt that it was a tepid response that wasn’t worthy of
being used, especially when it came to describing his food.

"Better
than fine," Moose corrected quickly.  "Exquisite. 
Superb.  Exemplary."

"Okay,
enough," I said with a smile.   "I get it."

Martha
came out a few minutes later with two plates that were heavily laden with
food.  As she slid one of them in front of me, I took it all in as the
work of art it was.  Chicken fried steak covered in sawmill pepper gravy
filled half the plate, with mashed potatoes and green beans fighting for space
with the biscuit over the rest of the area.

"This
is too much," I said, wondering how I was ever going to eat everything on
my plate.  "I’ll never be able to finish it all."

"You’ll
have to take that up with your husband," Martha said. 
"I’m not in charge of portion control.  I’m just the
delivery person."

"I
don’t know what you’re talking about, Victoria," Moose said
with a broad grin.  "I’m not going to have
any
trouble
polishing this off."

Martha
scolded him lightly.  "Moose, just because it’s on your plate
doesn’t mean that you have to eat every last bite of it."

"What,
and take a chance of insulting the chef?  No thank you.  I
wouldn’t have the heart to do that to Greg."

She
laughed at his response.  "Goodness knows you’ll use any
excuse you can find to overeat, won’t you?"

"Hey,
I’m just following the fry cook’s code.  We don’t
complain about each other’s cooking, and we don’t leave anything on
our plates."

"Is
that really a code, or just your appetite speaking?" Martha asked.

"What
can I say?  I took a solemn oath," Moose said, and placed four
fingers over his heart.

I
smiled as I cut my first piece of the steak.  The outer layer of breading
was golden and crispy, worthy of any fried chicken ever served, but in this
case, it enveloped a flat steak.  The gravy was the perfect complement,
offering a pleasant counter to the breaded meat.  I added a small dollop
of mashed potatoes to the bite on my fork, and then I tried to spear a single
green bean, which took a little effort, but I finally managed it.  Tasting
it all at once, the explosion of flavors in my mouth let me know that I was
indeed married to an artist.  His medium wasn’t paint or stone, but
his offering was just as creative as any portrait or sculpture ever made.