Bring Home the Murder (12 page)

 

Chapter 19

A
fter the deputy took Meggie's statement, she stopped by the glass-enclosed reception area and inquired if Bulldog would be in the next day. The woman at the desk confirmed he would be in and jotted her name in the appointment book.

That taken care of, she walked to the large window that faced the parking area and looked for Shirley's car. When she didn't see the Taurus, she knew her friend had finished giving her statement to the officer and had gone home. Shirley had offered to wait with her until Walter arrived to pick her up, but Meggie had declined the offer.

Meggie turned away from the window and sat in a chair to wait for Walter. She had no idea what kind of mood he would be in, but she guessed it wouldn't be a good one. She thought about the Bug. Her hands had been tied. It would have been much simpler to have it towed to the garage, but not with a trunk full of stolen money.

Tomorrow she would hand over the bag of money to Bulldog. Amelia had been adamant about dealing with him. She met Bulldog when she posted bail for her husband during her turbulent marriage and never forgot his kindness. Of all the law enforcement officials, she chose to confide in Bulldog. Good cop, bad cop all rolled into one.

She gazed out the window at the sky. In a matter of minutes the sun would set, and she would be doing her chores in the dark. She rubbed her neck then jumped to her feet when Walter's truck pulled up in front of the Law Enforcement Center.

She pushed the glass door wide and strode out to the truck. “Hi, honey. Thanks for coming.” She crawled into the passenger seat, buckled her seatbelt and gave her husband a big smile. “I know you're wondering what this is all about.”

Walter turned towards her with a pained look on his face. “I'm wondering all right. But I'm almost one hundred and one percent sure I'm not going to like what I hear.” He turned out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of Highway 52. “And before you ask, I have the tow rope in the back of the pickup and my pajama bag in the back seat.” He glanced over at Meggie. “Now, what is this all about?”

After Meggie finished explaining to Walter what happened, she leaned back in the passenger seat while he ranted on and on. He wasted no time in letting her know how he felt about her harebrained trip to Superior. He emphasized the fact that he warned her not to get involved in trying to find out what happened to Amelia.

By the time the Bug pulled into Rileys' driveway, the sun had sunk below the horizon and Meggie's mood right along with it. Walter's mood, on the other hand, had not changed since he picked her up at the Law Enforcement Center. His bad mood stayed the course.

She crawled out of the truck and waited for Walter in front of the vehicle. He rolled up the truck windows, slammed the driver's door and pressed the remote. “I better lock the doors. You never know who might trespass tonight and steal something. Heaven knows you're a magnet for trouble.”

She took his hand in hers and gazed up at him. “Don't be mad. Everything's going to work out fine. Trust me.”

He shook his head and followed her into the house. “You're probably right. What could possibly go wrong that already hasn't?”

 

 

The next morning, Meggie pulled the vinyl bag out from under the bed, carried it outside and set it in the front seat of the truck. She walked to the back of the pickup and found Walter bent over the truck's tow bar and attempting to attach it to the Bug.

“I'm going to run and do the chores while you're hooking up the VW. It won't take me long. Have another cup of coffee if you ­finish before me.” Walter grunted so she took that as an okay and hurried off to do the chores.

Only half her mind concentrated on her duties. The other half dwelled on all that had taken place in the last twenty-four hours. Darrell Schmidt had deliberately run them off the road for the bag of money. He must have known where Ruth Burnson lived or followed her there. But how did he know she planned to drive to Superior?

Porky lifted his snout and snorted at her. Evidently, she wasn't moving fast enough for him. She lifted the padlock off the kennel door and glared at him as he wobbled in front of her. Pushy pig.

Once the horses were in the pasture, Meggie ran back to the house. She found Walter in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee and eating another caramel roll. He shoved the last bite in his mouth when he saw her come in.

“You ready?” He tipped up his coffee mug and set it on the table. “Let's do it.”

Walter didn't say much on the way into Pine Lake. He drove slow and kept his eyes focused on the rearview mirror.

Meggie turned around to check on the Bug every few minutes. “Thanks for doing this. Do you think they'll loan me a car while they're fixing mine?” She spread cream over her hands. The scent of lavender filled the cab.

“Andy usually keeps a loaner at the shop. I'm sure you'll qualify as long as someone else isn't using it.” Walter glanced at his wife. “If worse comes to worst, I'll stay with you at the farm until the Bug gets fixed.”

Meggie thanked him and appreciated his concern. She hoped it wouldn't come to that since he wouldn't feel comfortable in someone else's recliner. Besides that, Riley's television set didn't compare to his big screen TV.

 

 

A short time later Meggie drove out of Andy's Autos in a yellow Jeep. It wasn't the greatest looking vehicle, but it would serve the purpose. She looked at the bag of money on the seat beside her and thought about what she would say to Bulldog.

Meggie switched the radio on, but soon realized she couldn't hear anything over the engine's noise. She switched it back off. By the time she turned off the street and into the Law Enforcement Center parking lot, her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest.

The visitor's lot appeared full, so she drove around to the back of the building. There she found an empty parking spot and pulled in. She sat in the car a moment and rehearsed what she would tell Detective Peterson. Her stomach turned at the thought of meeting with him, but there was no getting around it. She had to explain how she came to be in possession of stolen money.

Meggie steepled her fingers, took a deep breath and counted to ten. Then slung her purse over her shoulder and hoisted the bag of money off the front seat. With vinyl bag in hand, she held her head high and walked into the Law Enforcement Center.

Inside the building she set the bag on the floor, lowered herself into a chair and waited for Bulldog to arrive. She wanted to flee, but instead stood and paced. She sat back down. A few minutes later Bulldog's truck pulled into the parking lot.

Meggie's knee bounced up and down as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Bulldog opened the lobby door and lumbered over to her. “Meggie, come on back.” He eyed the dirty vinyl bag but didn't ask about it. Instead he smiled and led her through the work area and into his office.

Bulldog closed the door. He walked around his desk and sat down in his chair. “What can I do for you this morning, Meggie?”

“I'm not here for myself.” She cleared her throat. “Shirley and I were in yesterday to give a statement regarding a man that tried to run us off the road. I presume he's sitting in jail now.”

When Bulldog didn't respond she continued. “I believe he ran us off the road because he wanted this.” She bent over, lifted the bag of money off the floor and passed it across the desk to the detective.

Bulldog's eyebrows narrowed as he reached for the dirty vinyl bag. He set it down on his lap and unzipped it. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a low whistle. Seconds later he set the bag beside his chair on the floor and leaned his elbows on the table. “You better explain.”

“It's a long story.”

“It usually is, but I have all the time you need.” He reached for the recorder and set it down in the center of the desk. “I'll have to record this conversation.” He turned the recorder on and nodded at Meggie to begin.

She told Bulldog how she learned about Amelia's sister and why she tried to find her. “I thought if I could find Ruth Burnson alive she might know something about Amelia's disappearance. Otherwise, why wouldn't she have filed a missing persons report?” She paused. “And I discovered some letters at the farm that Amelia had written and wanted to return them to her. That is, if I found her alive.”

By the time she finished her statement and the recorder had been switched off, Bulldog sat stone-faced in his chair. “And she wants to meet with me?”

“Amelia trusts you,” Meggie's heart palpitated. “She's afraid she might have to go to prison. She dug the money up after Darrell buried it, but she didn't steal it from the bank. She only spent enough to buy a bus ticket to Superior. She had to get away from her abusive husband, but had no money to buy a ticket.”

Meggie caught her breath and nodded at the vinyl bag. “She paid the money back. The fact that her step-grandson, Darrell Schmidt, tried to run us off the road to get that money proves he knew about the money.”

Bulldog held up his hand. “Whoa, slow down. I'm receiving an overload of information here.” He scratched his chin. “Listen. I don't know what'll happen to Amelia after she confesses. My gut feeling tells me they won't send her to prison. Regardless, she needs to come in as soon as possible and give us a statement.”

He picked up a pencil and tapped it against the desk. “Why do you suppose Darrell Schmidt knew enough to follow you to Superior?”

“I've wondered about that.” Meggie thought a minute. “Shirley and I were in the horse pasture the night he came back for the money. At least, I assume it was him. We watched him digging from the top of the hill. I think he knew we were there.”

Her eyes squinted. “And I'm pretty sure he broke into Rileys' house and searched the attic for the stash. Even so, he wouldn't have known anything about our plans to go to Superior because we hadn't made them yet.”

Bulldog bowed his head and rubbed his temples.

Meggie suspected she had given him a headache but that didn't deter her. “No one else knew we planned to drive to Superior, not even Walter or Bill. We didn't talk about our plans in public . . .” She paused and wrinkled her brow, “Except the night before we left when we were at the meat raffle.”

Bulldog lifted his head and made eye contact with Meggie. “Do you think someone at the Legion Club overheard you and Shirley making plans?”

Meggie took her time before she answered his question. “An older man was sitting at the table next to us, but I don't think we were talking loud enough for him to hear anything. I don't know his name.” She recalled that the man leaned towards their table. At the time she thought he had too many beers. Could he have been eavesdropping?

Bulldog peered at Meggie, his smile appeared tight.

“We could have been talking loud enough, I guess.”

On her way back to the farm past events replayed in Meggie's mind. She thought about Darrell Schmidt and wondered how he ended up in Superior. Everything else he did fell into place except that. Whatever the reason, greed had put him in prison once and greed would send him back again.

 

Chapter 20

S
everal days later, Meggie sat in Pine Lake Café and stirred her raspberry tea. She recalled the day she had lunch with Shirley and Audrey and announced her plans to housesit the hobby farm. So much had happened since then. Molly had said her goodbyes to Michael and had returned home. Meggie had crossed another item off her bucket list.

“It didn't do Darrell much good to turn state's evidence against his partner in order to get a shorter sentence.” Shirley squirted more catsup on her French fries and popped one into her mouth. “He gets out of prison, pulls a few stupid stunts and ends up back in the slammer.”

Meggie dipped her roast beef sandwich into the rich brown au jus. She raised the sandwich to her mouth, took a big bite and savored the taste. After several seconds she wiped her hands on her napkin and focused on Shirley.

“Keep in mind how desperate he must have been when they released him from prison. He probably spent all those years incarcerated thinking about the money he had buried.”

“And when he didn't find it, he went looking for it,” Audrey said. “I don't understand why he thought Fred took it.”

Meggie slid her plate to the side and sipped her drink. “Through a process of elimination, he must have come to the conclusion Fred had taken it. His father wasn't home when he buried it. He knew Amelia had been in bed. That left Fred.”

Audrey's brows narrowed. “Why, Fred? He buried it at night, didn't he? What would Fred be doing out at night in that area?”

“Fred liked to ride his horse at night. I suppose Darrell thought it possible he had been riding and witnessed him burying it.”

“That's why Meggie thinks he broke into Riley's house.” Shirley chewed on her burger and swallowed. “But from what we've heard, he won't admit to breaking in.”

“What do you mean by ‘I think' he broke into Riley's house?”

“Are you positive about the intruder? Maybe you were dreaming or just imagined someone in the attic.”

“Of course I'm sure. I wasn't dreaming, drunk or hallucinating. You know me better than that. Besides, there were footprints in the attic's dusty floor and on the stairs.”

Audrey tilted her head. “For argument's sake, let's say he did break into Riley's house. Why did he think he would find the money there after all these years?”

Meggie's eyes gleamed. “Fred was reported missing after Darrell was arrested. Perhaps Darrell figured Fred dug up the bag of money and hid it until he could turn it over to the authorities. But since that never happened and it was never found . . .”

“Darrell might have believed Fred hid it in the attic or staircase. He knew him to be an honest man who wouldn't run away with stolen money. It was a longshot.” Shirley jutted her chin. “Who knows? Maybe Darrell suspected his grandfather had done away with both Amelia and Fred. From what we hear, Darrell denies having anything to do with Fred's disappearance. He liked Fred.”

The waitress appeared at their table and asked if anyone would like dessert. Meggie ordered a butterscotch sundae and Shirley, pecan pie. Audrey passed on dessert.

As soon as the waitress turned away Audrey leaned over the table toward Meggie. “I don't understand how Darrell knew you were driving to Superior?”

Meggie bit her lip and Shirley shifted in her seat. “That would probably be our fault,” Meggie admitted. “We should have known better, but we discussed our plans the night of the meat raffle. Later we learned that Herman Schmidt, Darrell's grandfather, sat at the table next to ours and heard everything.”

Shirley touched the scarf at her neck. “I imagine he told his grandson what we discussed, and Darrell followed us to Superior. Did he plan to confront Amelia if we found her? We don't know. But then he saw us walk out of the assisted-living facility with that vinyl bag. You know the rest of the story.”

 

 

Later that week, Meggie slid the glass door closed behind her and carried her coffee outside. A chipmunk in the far corner of the deck swiveled to attention. It darted across the deck, scurried down the steps and out of sight.

She brushed the lounge chair off and sat down. It felt good to be home in Pine Lake, although she missed the hobby farm. She wouldn't miss mucking the stalls or chasing pigs in the rain, but she didn't regret taking the job. Molly had been so grateful to her. She had been able to spend quality time with her husband, Michael. That in itself made it all worthwhile.

The morning sun sparkled through the leaves on the birch tree. They quivered in the gentle breeze. A chickadee sat on the edge of the cabin bird feeder, darted its head from side to side and flew off.

The glass door slid open and Walter stuck his head out. “Are you ready to go?”

Meggie looked at her watch and gasped. “I had no idea it was so late. I'll only be a minute.” She had forgotten Walter had volunteered to help out at the Legion Club in Bluff.

She grabbed her coffee cup and hurried into the house. On the table lay the sympathy card addressed to Fred Jackson's family. She picked it up and slipped it into her purse.

In the bedroom she lifted the navy blue dress off the ironing board and slid it over her shoulders. She found her dress sandals near the back of the closet and slipped them on.

A few minutes later, Walter crawled into the Bug's passenger seat. He rolled the window all the way down and set his elbow on the car's door. “It's not fair that a good man like Fred Jackson ended up the way he did. From what I hear, he would have taken the shirt off his back for anyone. But then life isn't always fair, is it?”

“At least Fred'll have a proper burial now. I'm sure it must have been difficult for those close to him to find out he spent so many years at the bottom of a well.”

There were few cars in the parking lot when Meggie and Walter arrived at the Legion Club. She took her husband's hand and together they started across the parking lot.

Several men in military uniform gathered inside the club. Meggie hung back while her husband walked over and spoke with one of them. The man pointed Walter towards a large room on the left.

While waiting for Walter, Meggie found her way to the kitchen area. The ding of pots and pans and a low hum of conversation escaped the shutters over the counter. She knocked on the closed door and peeked in. Savory smells permeated the small room. One woman bustled about and smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm offering my services if you need any help.”

The woman thanked her and said most of the work was done.

Meggie backed out of the kitchen. She milled around and spotted a basket on the table near the microphone. She opened her purse, pulled out the sympathy card for Fred's family and dropped it in the basket. After signing the guest book, she sat down in the back of the room and waited for Walter.

 

 

Later that morning, the VW climbed Bluff Hill Road and followed the curvy lane to the cemetery. Inside the cemetery gates the bugler and color guard stood several yards away from the gravesite. The firing party stood ready and in full view of the family.

She followed the lane through the cemetery, pulled the Bug over and parked under the shade of a large oak tree. Dappled light shone on the ground. The scent of fresh mown grass hung in the air.

A number of folding chairs were set up near the open grave. Several mourners gathered close by. Amelia Schmidt stood next to a man and rested her hand on his arm. They appeared to be in deep conversation.

Three mourners stood apart from the others and hovered in the background. The younger woman said something to the older woman, then walked over to join the man conversing with Amelia Schmidt.

Low-key conversation buzzed until all heads turned toward the cemetery's entrance. A hearse pulled up near the gravesite. The driver's door opened and the funeral director stepped out. He walked to the back of the vehicle and unlocked the rear door of the hearse.

The pallbearers carried Fred's remains to his wife's gravesite. They held the flag over the urn and the service began. The minister led the mourners in prayer and asked, “Would anyone like to say a few words about Mr. Jackson?”

Barry Jackson, Fred's nephew, introduced himself. The tall good-looking man thanked everyone for attending the service and said a few words about his uncle's character. An elderly man in uniform remembered Fred's patriotism. When they finished speaking, the funeral director asked the mourners to stand for the rendering of honors. Volleys were fired and “Taps” sounded.

Meggie and Walter stood near the back of the mourners while family and close friends occupied the folding chairs. A tear formed in Meggie's eye as she watched the military detail fold the American flag over the cremation urn, hand it to the detail assistant, who in turn passed it to the detail leader. The detail leader presented the flag to the man who had been speaking with Amelia, Fred's nephew.

The minister announced that lunch would be served at the American Legion Club in Bluff. Condolences were offered, and one by one the mourners left the gravesite. A handful of those closest to Fred remained. Meggie turned to Walter. “Let's go, shall we?”

The drive to Bluff Legion Club proved somber. Meggie wondered if Fred's service reminded her husband of his father's military funeral. She tried to converse with Walter, but soon realized he didn't want to talk. She left him alone with his reflections and drove on in silence.

When they arrived at the Legion Club, several people from the cemetery were standing outside the front door visiting. Inside the building, a number of people gathered around the bar area.

Meggie followed Walter into the reserved room, sat down next to him at a table and waited until the family arrived. She heard her name and turned to see Amelia Schmidt standing by her side. Ruth Burnson stood next to her.

Meggie slid her chair back and rose. “Please sit down. I'm so glad you didn't leave right after the services. We didn't have a chance to talk earlier.” She pulled a chair out for each of them and waited until they sat down.

“I wouldn't leave Bluff without thanking you. I owe you so much.” Amelia grinned. “I had a nice talk with Lars and he told me there would be a court hearing. For the time being they released me on my own recognizance.” An inner light shone in her eyes. “I suppose they don't think an old lady like me will try to make a run for it.”

Meggie expressed relief that everything seemed to be turning out in a good way. Their conversation was cut short when voices rose in the bar room. Heads turned toward the commotion.

Barry Jackson, Fred's nephew, had arrived. He made his way through the mourners, greeted many and shook hands with several. The young woman who sat next to him at the gravesite linked her arm in his. He appeared to be introducing her around. After several minutes he made his way into the private room.

“That's Barry's daughter, Michelle, a pretty young woman. She lives with her mother in the city near Barry,” Amelia whispered. “His ex-wife, Jacqueline, and her brother, Simon, were at the gravesite services, but I don't see them here.”

Barry and Michelle strode towards the front of the room where the luncheon had been set out. They picked up their plates and started to move through the buffet line. Guests took their cue and fell in behind them.

After everyone at Meggie's table returned from the lunch line, Meggie noticed Ruth and Amelia did not have a beverage. She offered to get them one. When she came back to the table, Barry and his daughter were seated with the others.

Barry stood as she approached the table. He waited until she set the beverages in front of Amelia and Ruth then held out his hand and smiled. “We haven't met. I'm Fred's nephew, Barry Jackson.” He turned to the young woman sitting next to him. “This is my daughter, Michelle. We owe you a debt of gratitude for finding my uncle. Molly Riley has high praise for you.”

Meggie accepted his thanks and expressed her condolences. Conversation centered around Fred and life on the farm. Barry admitted he didn't spend as much time with Fred as he would have liked, but recalled a funny story or two about his visits to the farm. When there was a lull in the conversation, Walter excused himself and left the table.

“They want to talk to me down at the sheriff's office,” Barry commented. “They're investigating Uncle Fred's murder. Close relatives are always suspected until they're cleared.” He ran his finger around his coffee cup. “I'm Uncle Fred's only nephew. He had few relatives.”

Michelle's face fell. “I'm sure they think because the house was in your name, too, that you might have had motive to do harm to Uncle Fred.”

“I'm not worried,” Barry rushed his words. “I didn't have a thing to do with his death.”

After Barry and Michelle left the table, Amelia confided to Meggie that Barry told her his divorce was anything but amicable. Evidently his wife, Jacqueline, had taken him to the cleaners. “What with the sale of the farm and half of everything else he owned, she came out smelling like a rose.” Amelia glanced toward the doorway. “There she is now with her brother. Simon helped Fred on the farm every now and then when he lived near Bluff.”

A hush fell over the crowd when the tall attractive woman walked in. She glanced around, whispered something to her brother and proceeded through the buffet line. She nodded at Barry, who stood nearby, then sat down at an empty table.

Simon walked with a limp and trailed behind her. He seemed like a fish out of water and darted furtive looks here and there.

Something niggled at the back of Meggie's mind, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Her eyes narrowed. After a moment it hit her. Maud, the librarian, had suspected a hired hand with a limp might have done away with Fred. Could that man possibly be Simon? Did he have a motive to kill Fred?