Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) (17 page)

“Not the farming, the land. What if someone is worried about what might get dug up on the Winkler farm?” Julie asked. “Something other than the wreck?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know … like a dead body. Maybe one that hasn’t been in the ground for over a hundred years.”

“It’s a theory, I suppose. I guess it makes more sense than killing someone over a steamboat wreck.” Daniel paused for a moment, and Julie listened to the slight fuzzy sound of the open line. “I have an idea. I know a woman in Tennessee who trains cadaver dogs. I could have her come out and search the site. If the dog senses human remains, we’ll call the police.”

Julie felt a surge of excitement. “That’s a fantastic plan!” If they happened to find a
recent
dead body, that would change everything about the investigation.

They chatted for a few more minutes until Julie managed to yawn into the phone for the third time.

Daniel must have heard it. “You sound tired, and I’m keeping you up. I guess I found it a little lonelier out in this bunkhouse than I expected. You go to sleep. I’ll call my friend in the morning and tell you what she says.”

“Great.” Julie yawned the end of the word and hung up. She thought again about going down to collect the printouts and spend some time reading them, but she couldn’t muster enough energy. Instead, she headed for bed.

Daniel’s friend couldn’t make it out to the farm for several days, which was fine with Julie. A new quilting group checked in and were afire with questions about the area attractions. They also bought lots of things at the tea-and-quilt shop, so Julie knew Millie would be pleased. She received another interesting postcard from the owner. The photo on this one featured a cave and people in spelunking gear. Millie’s note said she’d be coming back to the inn soon.

“‘Soon’ is a little nonspecific,” Julie told the postcard before slipping it into her blazer pocket and allowing a guest to drag her into the quilt shop to give an opinion on fabric choices for the woman’s quilt.

As things calmed down at the inn, Julie found herself restless. Waiting for a cadaver dog felt like giving the murderer too much time to work out another plan of attack. She needed to be doing something. She considered reading through the papers Hannah had given her. Still, reading wasn’t action. She needed to
do
something.

She put Shirley in charge, grabbed Hannah from the kitchen, and headed to the Missouri Hills Care Center. “This might let us mark one name completely off the list,” Julie said. “That would make me feel like we were accomplishing something.”

“Fine with me,” Hannah answered agreeably as she hopped into the car. “I could use a short break from the kitchen.”

The nursing home was beautiful with lush, expansive grounds. They climbed out of the car, and Hannah spotted a gardener working on a nearby hedge. “I think I’ll go ask
questions about how easy it would be to get out of this place. I’ll meet you at the car when you’re done.”

“Divide and conquer,” Julie said. She headed through the arched entry and crossed the marble floor to the front desk. When she complimented the place, the receptionist brightened. “This was an old estate many years ago.” She dropped her voice slightly to add, “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever worked. Usually nursing home buildings look as worn as the residents.”

“No doubt.” Julie explained that she wanted to visit Maxwell Cantor Sr. and the receptionist’s smile faded slightly.

“You’ll need an escort back to that wing,” the receptionist said. “And you’ll have to speak with the head nurse there to be sure Mr. Cantor is up to visitors today.” As she was speaking, a girl who looked as if she couldn’t be out of high school came through with an armload of towels. The receptionist called out to her. “Izzy, please, take this lady to the closed wing and introduce her to Nurse Sinclair.”

The teenager nodded briskly and asked Julie to follow her. As soon as they were out of hearing of the front desk, the girl asked, “You visiting a relative?”

“Family friend,” Julie said.

“Be prepared. Your friend might not know you,” Izzy said.

Julie managed to look sad about that. “Does that happen a lot?”

“The folks in this unit have their good days and their bad days,” Izzy said. “Usually they’re sweet, but sometimes—watch out!”

“What do you mean by that?” Julie asked.

Izzy dropped her voice still more, and Julie had to lean close to the teen to hear. “One of the old guys popped Nurse Sinclair smack in the eye when she wouldn’t let him go for a walk.”

“Oh my!” Julie said. “That wasn’t dear old Max, was it?”

“No, but Max has his moments. He broke a volunteer’s hand one day. I won’t work in that unit at all, and they
pay
me. Anyway, Max has other skills.”

“Like what?” Julie asked.

“They call him ‘Houdini.’ He’s always getting outside. The old guy’s pretty slick, considering he doesn’t know where he is half the time.” A panicky look crossed the teenager’s face. “Look, I’m not supposed to talk about the residents like that. I didn’t mean anything. Don’t turn me in, OK? I need this job so I can save enough money to go to college next year.”

“I won’t tell,” Julie said. She would have pumped the girl for more information, but they had reached the doors to the unit, and the teenager had grown very quiet and formal. She handed Julie off to the head nurse.

“Max is one of our favorites,” the nurse said. “And he’s having a good day.”

She led Julie to a beautifully decorated room with tall windows and lots of light. It didn’t look anything like a hospital room. It didn’t even have a hospital bed. Maxwell Cantor Senior looked up as they entered.

“Hi, Max,” Julie said. “I thought I would come by for a visit.”

His forehead creased as he squinted at her. “Do I know you?”

“It’s Julie,” she said, feeling guilty for adding to the old man’s confusion.

He shook his head sadly. “I used to be so good with names and faces. I don’t remember you, but I’ll never turn away a pretty girl.”

Julie sat in the chair beside Max, and the nurse slipped away. “You don’t actually know me, Max. So you didn’t forget.”

He smiled. “That’s a relief. So Julie-whom-I-don’t-know, what can I do for you?”

“I live over in Straussberg. Do you know the town?”

He thought about it a moment, then nodded. “I have a nephew who lives there. I haven’t visited. He’s a vile little beast. My sister-in-law spoiled him rotten.”

“I’ve met him.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you familiar with a farm in that area? The Winkler farm? Or with an old Civil War steamboat wreck? The ship was called
The Grand Adventure
.”

The old man shook his head. “No. I was dreadful at history in school. I was too busy teasing the pretty girls. Should I know anything about it?”

“Your nephew tried to buy the farm,” Julie said. “I wondered why.”

“If it was my nephew, it was probably for nothing good.” He shook his head sadly, then his gaze turned toward the tall windows, and he became very still.

“Mr. Cantor?” Julie said after a moment.

He turned back to her in surprise. “Hello. Are you new? Can you take me outside?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He frowned. “I want to go outside.”

“Let me go get one of the nurses. Maybe she can take you.” Julie began to rise but Max grabbed her arm.

“I want to go out. Take me out of here.”

“Max, please, let go of my arm.”

“I want to go out!” Max’s voice rose to a shout. Nurses hurried in then, and with the rush of new people, Max let go of her. She slipped out of the room, rubbing her arm. Max’s grip was definitely strong.

When she got outside, she found Hannah leaning against the car. They climbed in and Hannah asked her what she’d learned. “I learned Max is considered the Houdini of the facility,” Julie said. “And he’s certainly strong enough to hurt someone.”

“Max isn’t the only Houdini here,” Hannah said. “According to the gardener, they misplace residents regularly. They usually track them down on the grounds, but a few have made it out onto the road and even into town.”

“Was Max one of those few?”

“He didn’t know any names.”

Julie thought about it as they drove back to the inn. Max was definitely a sweet old man when he was lucid, but she didn’t doubt that he had the strength to hurt someone. But why would he go all the way to the Winkler farm? Why go after George?

“He still doesn’t make sense as a suspect,” Julie said finally.

Hannah sighed as she stretched out her short legs in the seat. “None of them do.”

Julie had to agree. None of them did. There had to be something they weren’t seeing.

On the day of the search with the cadaver dog, Julie talked Hannah into covering for her so she could watch the happenings at the excavation site. When she reached it, she was surprised to see a small crowd, including several police officers, watching a white German shepherd roam over the area. Julie asked Daniel about the police when she reached his side.

“Kara does a lot of work for police departments,” Daniel
said. “So she didn’t want to annoy the local cops by nosing around a crime scene without permission. Thus …” He gestured toward the police officers.

Julie nodded toward Detective Frost. “He looks cheery.”

“I’m not sure that man’s face knows what cheery feels like.”

The detective seemed to feel their eyes on him. He turned away from the woman with the dog and walked across the pitted ground toward them. “Miss Ellis.” He wagged a finger at her. “You let me believe you were Millie Rogers.”

“Did I?” Julie asked. “That was such a horrible and confusing night.” She pointedly turned her attention away to watch the dog.

“I don’t expect this to produce anything,” Frost said. “But I didn’t see how it could hurt either. I’m sure we’ll find that the murder and the murderer are less mysterious.”

“As long as you find him,” Daniel said.

The detective turned to give Daniel a long, level stare. “We will.”

Julie was impressed with the careful way Daniel’s friend worked the area with her dog. The big white dog covered the area with focused attention, his nose to the ground. Occasionally he would look over at the slim, athletic woman who held his leash and watched his every move.

“I’ve never seen a cadaver dog,” Julie whispered to Daniel.

It was Frost who turned to her and said, “I have, though I’ve never worked with this one. You’d think all the smells on a farm would be a distraction, but cadaver dogs seem to be able to cut right through them.”

Still, for all the care the team of woman and dog put into the search, nothing caught the dog’s interest. Finally the woman clipped the lead back on the German shepherd and
walked over to Daniel. “If there’s a body buried here, it’s in something airtight.”

“Thanks for trying, Kara. It was probably a long shot.”

“What if the body was buried a long time ago?” Julie asked. “Ten or twenty years?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kara said. “Chase is trained to find everything from fresh remains to old bones.” Then she smiled. “Not that I understand how he does it. The scientists are still trying to figure it out. When Chase was getting his training, they told me there are 480 different compounds that give off scent in a decaying body.”

“That’s amazing.” Julie looked at the dog admiringly. He gave her an open-mouthed grin with his tongue lolled out and offered a paw.

Kara patted his head. “He likes you.”

“Is it all right if I pet him?” Julie asked. “I know you’re not supposed to pet dogs when they’re working.”

“He’s off duty.”

Julie scratched the German shepherd’s velvety ears and was rewarded by the dog leaning heavily against her leg.

“I’m going to get going—unless you have some other location for me to check?”

“No, this was it.” Daniel’s voice was gloomy. “Thanks for coming out.”

“You know I’d do anything to help with finding George’s killer,” Kara said, shaking her head. “I hadn’t seen him in a few years, but I can still hear his off-key, made-up songs. He was one of a kind.”

Daniel nodded. “He was that.”

As they were saying their goodbyes, Detective Frost took Julie’s arm and pulled her aside. “You seem to be a level-headed woman, but you need to be careful.”

“Careful of what?” Julie asked.

He looked back at Daniel. “I know women like the whole Indiana Jones thing.”

“Oh?” Julie asked tightly.

The detective’s face turned even grimmer. “I believe Mr. Franklin is more Hannibal Lecter than Indiana Jones. Remember, charming doesn’t always mean trustworthy—or even sane.”

“As much as I enjoy hearing you slander my friend,” Julie said, “I’m going to have to ask you to let go of my arm. I need to go back to work.”

“Don’t be charmed into a relationship with a murderer, Ms. Ellis. I’d hate to see you become the next victim of an unfortunate
accident
around Daniel Franklin.”