Treasured Legacies (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) (9 page)

“Protein,” Rosie said, marching into Mary’s office and
dropping a small bag on the top of her desk.

“Protein?”
Mary asked.

Rosie nodded. “Yes, protein first thing in the morning helps
you overcome morning sickness.”

Mary
unwrapped
the brown paper sack
and looked inside.
 
There were several
small plastic bags filled with cubes of cheese or meat. She pulled one out that
was filled with yellow cubes of cheese, opened it and sniffed.

“Oh, that was my favorite,” Rosie said.
“Aged
cheddar.
 
That set my stomach to
right most mornings.”

Reaching in, Mary pulled out a square and popped it into her
mouth.
 
The cheese nearly melted in her
mouth, the sharp taste actually settling her stomach. “This is good,” she said,
pulling out another piece and putting it in her mouth.

“Just take it easy,” Rosie warned. “A piece at a time, just
to be sure your stomach really likes it and isn’t messing with your mind.”

“My stomach will mess with my mind?”

Nodding sagely, Rosie sat in the chair across from Mary.
“Oh, yes, pregnancy pretty much turns your whole body into foreign
territory—intense cravings, rollercoaster emotions, acne, hair loss,
exhaustion, insomnia. And that’s just the start.”

Mary sat back in her chair and stared at Rosie, her eyes
wide with shock. “You can’t be serious. Why does anyone get pregnant a second
time?”

Rosie’s smiled warmed. “Because once you hold your baby in
your arms, you forget about all of the little annoyances.
 
You know you’ve just taken part in a miracle
and the rest doesn’t seem to matter anymore.”

Mary pulled out another bag; this one filled with cubes of
chicken, picked up a cube and bit it. “Protein, huh?” she asked.

Nodding, Rosie grinned. “You’ve got it.”

“So, what else do you have for me this morning?” Mary asked,
picking up another cube of chicken and actually feeling much better.

“I brought the real estate contracts you asked me about
yesterday,” she said, pulling out a manila folder filled with paper. “It looks
like the property was sold soon after Dale’s death.”

Mary took the proffered folder and looked through the
paperwork. “It was all sold to a large corporate farming organization, Maughold
International,” Mary said. “Are you familiar with them?”

Nodding her head, Rosie peered over the desk to look at the
paperwork. “Yes, they were pretty active around here about fifteen years
ago.
 
They wanted to put in some big
mega-dairy farms and the community was up in arms because they worried about
the possibility of water contamination from so many animals on a relatively
small tract of land.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, the county board finally voted it down,” Rosie explained. “The
company was pretty upset because they had gone around purchasing a bunch of land
assuming they had the county board’s approval.”

Mary looked up from the paperwork. “Sounds like an inside deal gone
wrong,” she surmised.

Rosie nodded. “There was a lot of speculation about that,” she said.
“Especially in the real estate profession.
 
Those land brokers who were buying up for
Maughold
were pretty upset. And the broker from Chicago, Quinn Edmonson —the one that dated
Dale’s daughter for a while—lost his job.”

“Quinn Edmonson,” Mary mused. “Why do I know that name?”

“Because once they fired him, he was left high and dry and
stuck here in Freeport,” Rosie said. “One of the local bank presidents—the one
who held the Maughold accounts for a while— felt sorry for him and gave him a
job.”

“Okay, that’s how I know him,” Mary said. “I think I’ve met
him at a couple of Chamber of Commerce Meet and Greets. He seemed nice enough.”

“Well, for a while he had more enemies than friends in
town,” Rosie said. “But it’s been fifteen years, so some people have forgiven
him.”

“How did the Johnson property figure into the Maughold
project?”

“I’m not sure,” Rosie admitted. “I’ve asked the county
recorder for some older Platte maps so we can determine the Johnson holdings
before the sale and after.
 
It should
also show us the properties Maughold had in the area.”

Nodding, Mary shuffled the papers back into the folder.
 
“So, the next step is to interview the family
members. How do you want me to handle it?”

Sitting back in her chair, Rosie pondered Mary’s question
for a few minutes. “I suppose if we are considering one of the children as
possible murderers, we shouldn’t tell them we are looking into their father’s
death, should we?”

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” Mary agreed, laying a
protective hand on her stomach. “I don’t want to put either of us in jeopardy.”

“I could tell them that you are interested in purchasing the
property, but you had some questions about the history of the farm,” Rosie
suggested. “I could introduce you to Greta and see where we go from there.”

“Is there a way I can get a key to the house?” Mary asked.
“I’d like to talk to Dale…”

Mary stopped talking when Dale appeared behind Rosie’s chair
in her office.

“I got the feeling someone was talking about me,” he said,
slowly gazing around her office. “I thought about our conversation and suddenly
I was here. How did that happen?”

“You and I are connected now,” Mary said.

“Why of course we’re connected, but I don’t see what that
has to do with getting you a key,” Rosie said, confused at Mary’s statement.

“Rosie, Dale just joined us,” Mary replied.

Sitting up in her chair and glancing around the room, Rosie
whispered, “I can’t see him.”

Dale grinned. “She does know I’m a ghost, right?”

Mary smiled at him and nodded. “Rosie, he’s still a ghost,
but he’s right behind your chair.”

“Oh, of course,” Rosie replied, turning in her chair to face
the space behind her. “I am so sorry about your untimely death and I do hope we
can get to the bottom of everything.”

Dale’s grin softened to a rueful smile. “She’s a nice lady,
isn’t she?” he asked.

“She’s the salt of the earth,” Mary answered.

Rosie turned back to Mary.
“Who?
Who else is here?” she asked.

“You are the salt of the earth,” Mary said. “And no one else
is here, just you, Dale and me.”

Turning back again to face the empty space, Rosie said, “We
were just talking about your murder and how to proceed.”

“Rosie,” Mary gasped.

“That’s okay,” Dale said. “She’s just calling a spade a
spade, no mincing words. I like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Rosie said. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not wrong,” Mary replied.
“Just very
directly.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize…,” she began, and then started again.
“I’m sorry. What I meant to say is we were just talking about…well…
your
um…”

Rosie sighed loudly and looked at Mary. “Well, really Mary,
the man knows he’s dead and he knows he’s a ghost. I don’t see why we just
don’t call a spade a spade and say the word murder.”

Dale shook his head sadly. “She’s exactly right,” he agreed.
“I was murdered and, unfortunately, the most likely suspects are my children.”

“So, how would you like us to proceed?” Mary asked.

Mary had visited the nursing home near
Krape
Park a number of times.
 
It was a lovely,
upscale facility with a staff that catered to the more affluent members of
Freeport’s elderly community.
 
The sale
of the farmland had been a good thing for Greta, Mary thought as she walked
down the polished wood floors past expensive antique furniture.
 
Stopping at the front desk she greeted the
young receptionist who had helped
her a
number of
times. “Hello, Jennika,” she said. “How are you today?”

“I’m great, Miss O’Reilly. How are you?”

“Well, actually, I’m not Miss O’Reilly any longer,” she
replied with a smile. “I’m Mary Alden.”

“As in Police Chief Alden?” she asked, her eyes and her
smile widening. “Good job!
 
He’s a hunk.”

Mary laughed and nodded. “Yes he is,” she said. “And thank
you.”

“So, who do you need to see today?” Jennika asked.

“Greta Johnson,” Mary said. “I think she’s new here.”

Nodding, Jennika scanned the computer screen in front of
her. “Yes, she is and she’s a sweetheart,” she replied, and then looking up she
handed Mary a guest badge and the sign-in clip board. “She’s in room 112. All
you need to do is go down this hallway to the right and knock on 112.”

“Thanks for your help,” Mary said, clipping on the badge
after signing her name. “Is there anything I should know about her before going
in?”

“Well, I can’t divulge any official health information about
her,” Jennika said. “But if you are going in to talk to her, you’re going to
discover she doesn’t have any filters. She will say whatever is on her mind and
it can be a little shocking sometimes. But, for the most part, she’s lucid.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet her,” Mary said with a smile and
walked down the hall towards the room.

“What the hell is Greta doing in a place like this?” Dale
asked, as he appeared next to Mary.

He gazed up and down the hall and shook his head in disgust.
“She’s a farm girl,” he said. “She shouldn’t be cooped up in here.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to ask her,” Mary whispered, making sure
no one was around to witness her speaking to thin air.

She tapped lightly on the door and in a moment the door was
opened by a petite woman with silver hair and bright blue eyes.

“She’s still beautiful,” Dale said as he glided into the
room.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” Mary said. “My name is Mary
Alden.
 
Rosie Wagner suggested I meet
with you.”

Greta smiled warmly. “Well, of course,” she said, opening
her door and inviting Mary in. “She called and told me you are interested in my
house. Are you really interested? You seem awfully citified to be living in the
country.”

“No, I’m interested,” Mary replied. “It’s a lovely place.”

Greta led her to a small dining room table placed near a
window that overlooked the manicured grounds. “Please sit down. I’m so glad you
like my house,” she said with a soft sigh. “I raised my family there and I have
so many fond memories.”

“See, what did I tell you?” Dale growled. “They forced her
in here.”

“Are you regretting your move here?” Mary asked.

“Oh, no, dear,” Greta said, placing her soft fragile hand
over Mary’s hand. “I was so lonely in that big house all by myself. It was a
wonderful place to raise a family, but it’s too empty when you’re all alone. I
love being here. There’s so much to do and I have so many friends. And I learn
the most interesting things about my neighbors.”

Dale snorted. “She’s just saying that.”

“Even if I don’t sell the house, I’ll still be able to stay
here,” she added. “Dale left me very well-off.
 
I don’t think he would have been happy here, he so loved the farm and
the land. But I would love to see another family in there. Rosie mentioned that
you encountered some troubles when you were looking into the deed for the
house.”

“Yes, for some reason there is a lien on the house,” Mary
said, as she shuffled through her purse and brought out some papers. “The deed
search shows a lien issued by Rogers Construction.”

Greta shook her head in dismay. “I know that Steve Rogers
did some work for us, years and years ago,” she said. “But there has to be some
mistake, we paid him for the work. Of course, he was always forgetful and he
didn’t do a very good job running his business either.
 
I remember he did some plumbing work for us,
disconnected the pipes to the sink, but forgot to turn off the water first.
What a mess it was.”

She paused for a moment. “I am positive we paid him, even
though Dale thought he should have paid us for all the trouble he caused.
 
Do you think that was it?”

“Well, sometimes contractors put the lien papers in, as a
hold until they are paid,” Mary said. “As you suggested, he might have just
forgotten to take it off. Is there a way to contact him?”

“No, he died several years ago. I think it was a heart
attack as I recall,” Greta said. “I don’t know how in the world we are going to
work this out.”

“This is great,” Dale said. “Now she’ll have you contact the
kids.”

“Do you have any family who might remember the situation?”
Mary asked. “Perhaps I could talk with them and we could come up with a way to
figure it out.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Greta said. “They are all much
better at dealing with business situations than I am.
 
They all say I chatter far too much. Let me
write down their phone numbers for you, and then I’ll give them all a call and
tell them to expect your call.
 
I’m sure
we’ll be able to figure this out.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Johnson,” Mary said. “I really do
love your house.”

“It’s a wonderful home for a family,” Greta said. “I do hope
we can work this all out so you can buy it.
 
I would be very happy knowing you are living there. My husband and I
were very happy there.”

“Yes we were,” Dale agreed softly. “Very happy there.”

 
“If you don’t mind me
asking, what happened to your husband?” Mary asked.

Greta sighed deeply and sat back against her chair. “He was
killed in a farm accident,” she said sadly.

“I’m so sorry,” Mary replied.

“It was terrible,” Greta said, turning to stare unseeing out
the window. “Somehow he was trapped in a grain bin during harvest. He suffocated.”

She turned back and met Mary’s eyes. “I always wondered
about his death,” she confessed. “He was too smart to close a bin door behind
him. He was always so careful about proper procedure. I just have never been
able to bring myself to consider it an accident.”

“Well, that’s my Greta,” Dale said. “She was always the
smart one.”

“Do you think it might not have been an accident?” Mary
asked.

“Well, now, that’s a problem, isn’t it,” Greta sad softly.
“If I think Dale was killed, then who would have done the killing?
 
I’ve watched those television murder mysteries
for years, Mrs. Alden. I understand what motivates people and I pray to God
every night that one of my children wasn’t so overcome with greed that they
decided to remove the one person that stood between them and a small fortune.”

“With those suspicions in your mind, how do you continue to
carry on a relationship with your children?” Mary asked.

Greta shrugged. “It hasn’t been easy,” she admitted. “I try
to love them and accept them, but always in the back of my mind, there’s a
little fear, a little doubt.
 
We haven’t
been all that close since Dale died, especially Abe.”

“Abe?
Why is that?” Mary asked.

“He was the one driving the truck that night,” Greta
explained. “He was the one who used the auger to feed the grain from the truck
into the top of the bin. It looks like Dale was pounding on the door, screaming
for help, but Abe was wearing protective hearing gear because the machinery is
so loud, so he never heard him.”

“Abe blames himself for his father’s death?” Mary asked.

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Greta said. “He doesn’t touch
the money he got from the sale of the land.
 
He pretty much keeps to himself.”

“Damn it,” Dale swore. “Abe was such a hard-working and good
boy; I wouldn’t want my death to ruin his life.”

“Do you think Abe could have done it?” Mary asked.

Greta shook her head. “I’ve lived with these suspicions for
over fifteen years. I don’t want to think any of my children would have done
it,” she said. “But I also wonder if perhaps
it’s
remorse rather than guilt that keeps Abe away.”

“Tell her what you do,” Dale insisted. “Tell her about
me.
 
Tell her you’re going to look into
my death.”

Mary stood and smiled at Greta. “Thank you so much for your
time,” she said. “I’ll contact your children about the lien.”

Greta clasped Mary’s hands in her own. “Thank you, Mary,”
she said. “I hope you can figure this all out.”

“So do
I
,” Mary said earnestly. “So
do
I
.”

She let herself out of the room and looked both ways down
the hall to be sure she was alone.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Dale demanded.

“Because she could have said no,” Mary whispered.

“What?”

“Dale, she’s had these feelings about your death ever since
you died,” Mary said. “It’s only her current condition that allows her to speak
of her feelings. She is protecting her children, she would never agree to me
investigating them. And if she called them and told them I was investigating
things, do you think they’d be as forthcoming as I need?”

Sighing, Dale shook his head. “No, I suppose you’re right,”
he said. “And Greta is right. I hate to think one of our children could kill
me.”

“Unfortunately, it happens every day,” Mary said. “But,
don’t give up on your children yet.
 
We
haven’t even begun to investigate.”