A Lonely Way to Die: A Utah O'Brien Mystery Novel (Minnesota Mysteries Series Book 2) (12 page)

He put the glasses back on his head. Then he looked again at the jumbled books and papers on the bookshelves, remembering. “Then the baby came, way too early, and stillborn.” He shook his head, saddened by the memory.

“She was devastated, and her husband gave her no support. Well, I’m not spreading secrets. Everyone knows what the man is like. I took him to task over it, but only once. He never returned to church after that, and now he scowls at me when we meet on the street. He holds a long grudge, that man.”

I gave him a few moments, and then said, “Do you remember how long ago that was?” I could see Josie glaring at me in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t turn to look at her.

He shook his head. “I don’t recall, exactly. One of the women in the congregation could probably tell you. Or your mother, perhaps. Does Carol know what happened to Gwyneth?”

“Yes. We talked to her this morning. She’s very upset.”

“Of course.”

“Did you happen to see which way Gwyneth went after she left the diner?”

The pastor shook his head.

I pulled the wrinkled paper out of my pocket. “Have you seen these fliers? John Meecham left them at the diner, but I was told this was Laura Rey’s idea.”

He held out his hand and took the flier. Josie was getting antsy and wanted to leave, but I held my ground. John Owen glanced at the flier, then handed it back. He reached down into the wastepaper basket beside his desk, and pulled up a handful of papers, all the same as the one I was holding.

“She brought them in this morning,” he said. “I didn’t realize it was John Meecham putting her up to it, but it is the sort of thing he would do, for a joke. She’s vulnerable right now, since her husband died. She’s not really thinking straight. I’ll talk to her.”

He scratched the back of his hand for a second, and then put both hands on his desk, ready to get up from behind the chair. “If you don’t mind, I really must go see Mildred. I hope she doesn’t feel responsible for her daughter’s suicide. She must be devastated.”

We all rose together. I thought he would come around the desk and shake our hands or something, but instead he looked at Josie, then at me. “Utah, I’ve been waiting for you to come and ask me to officiate at your wedding. You and Sam Two Hawk do intend to marry here in the church, don’t you?”

I was taken aback. I wasn’t a member of the church, and rarely attended services. Plus, Sam and I hadn’t discussed marriage. It was too soon. I looked at Josie, and she raised one eyebrow, enjoying my discomfort in a good-humored way.

The pastor turned to her. “And Josie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, too. You’ve been openly living with Mort Schwaab for many years now. You’re setting a bad example for your daughter.”

Josie held her lips between her teeth, trying not to laugh. He noticed.

“It’s not funny, you know. The elders in the community need to set an example, and live upright lives. You’re a respected person in this town, and you need to—”

“John,” Josie said, after she’d had enough. “Mort and I have financial reasons for not making the relationship legal. It’s about money, and his grown children, and his pension, and other things that are too complicated to explain.” She glanced at me, and I looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep a straight face. “And my daughter is almost fifty years old. She makes up her own mind about things. Really—”

It was time to get our focus back. I said, “John, I have one more question. Carol told us that Gwyneth was being bothered by an older boy, or a man, perhaps, right before she left town to live with her father. Did you ever hear anything about that?”

He looked off to the side, remembering. He was angrier with my mother than I realized, because a muscle on his jaw was jumping. He took a deep breath, relaxed a little, and glanced at the flier that was still lying, wrinkled, on his desk. He said, “She didn’t come to me, but I do remember hearing talk about John Meecham getting too close to the girl. She was only in high school, and he must be years older. I’m sure nothing came of it, though, and she left soon after I heard about it.”

He looked up and said, “If there was someone else, perhaps she said something to her mother. Have you talked to her yet?”

I nodded. “But she was so distraught.”

“Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”

He left through the back door of the office that leads to the side street. Josie and I went out through the main body of the church, passing between the pews, and on to the front door.

THIRTEEN

“Well, now we know why Carol pretended to be angry at Sonje” I said, as we pulled our boots on. “Maybe it even explains that big check.”

“What do you mean?”

“A baby is born in a hospital in the city at least two months early, and it dies at birth. The husband acts unconcerned, but the mother is in deep depression—and it all happens right after a big blow-up between her and her best friend? Who lives in the city and doesn’t talk to anyone here in town?” I waited for it to sink in.

“Leave it alone, Utah. It can’t have anything to do with Gwyneth’s murder. Leave it alone.”

“Ah hah! So you do think it was murder.”

She wrapped her scarf around her neck and walked out the door. We got back into the truck and headed back towards the south end of town. The truck was in four-wheel drive, and I drove slowly through the snow that was drifting across the streets.

“This is what your so-called investigation is all about, isn’t it?” she said.

I had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t act all ignorant,” she said. “You’re trying to find out who Gabe’s father is. It was obvious back there, from the questions you were asking the pastor. It can’t have anything at all to do with Gwyneth’s death, but you can’t leave it alone. You’re still mad at me because I wouldn’t tell you who your own father was. It’s all about you.” She folded her arms across her chest and looked out the passenger side window.

It was still snowing, but only lightly, and the clouds were pulling apart, with blue sky showing in the south.

“That’s not why I want to find out what happened to Gabe’s mother,” I said. “I just think it’s the right thing to do. Besides, when I found out who my father really was, I knew you were trying to protect me by keeping it a secret. I know your heart was in the right place.”

She was looking at me now, her mouth hanging open. Maybe I should have told her sooner.

She said, “When did you find out?”

“My first birthday after Joe and I got married. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.” I turned onto Main Street, heading south. We only had a few blocks to drive.

“Joe just started his job at the insurance agency and he didn’t have any money for a present, so he spent his lunch hours at the newspaper office, down in the morgue, looking for a clue about what happened. He figured it had to be something bad, or you would have told me. He only found one article, but it was enough to get him on the right track. He made a few calls. Joe would have been a good detective.” I smiled, remembering.

We passed the bank on the left. The plywood over the windows was depressing. Josie was picking at a loose thread on her jacket pocket. I said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“I know. But everything got out of control. You can’t accuse a priest of that kind of crime without there being consequences.”

“The prosecutor wouldn’t take the case, would he? He had political ambitions, and it would have destroyed him if he took on the church.”

She nodded, frowning.

“But the church settled, anyway, didn’t they? That’s how you got the money to buy the diner. It wasn’t a loan from my grandmother, like you always told me.”

She looked at me, finally, and gave me a lopsided smile. It faded fast. “She wrote me a letter every month, telling me all the gossip about the old neighborhood. I wrote back and told her how you were doing in school. She sent you presents. That sort of thing.”

“But she never visited, and she never invited us to visit her. Joe figured that meant that she was upset because you tried to get a priest arrested. She was very active in the church, wasn’t she?”

She fiddled with her jacket before answering. “Her standing in the community was everything to her. I think my father disagreed with her, but he was too weak to oppose her openly. She always thought I led the good priest astray with my wanton ways. It took several years before she regained her social position. It was everything to her.”

When we passed the service station, I saw Conrad Krueger walking into the little mini-mart. On impulse, I turned and pulled the truck into a parking space beside the station. Josie looked at me with eyebrows raised.

“Conrad was in the diner yesterday, at the same time as Carol Kramer and Gwyneth Price. We need to talk to him, so we might as well do it now.”

Conrad was already behind the counter when we came went into the store. It’s a very small store, with just a few shelving units with chips and snacks and a coffee urn at the back near the restrooms. One of the anti-museum fliers was hanging on the bulletin board at the back. I thought about taking it down, but I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

“What can I do for you ladies?” Conrad said.

“How is your sweet daughter-in-law doing? The baby is almost due, isn’t it?” Josie asked.

He chuckled. “She’s just fine. But my wife is a little irritated with Utah at the moment. She and Amy were supposed to spend the afternoon picking out colors for the baby’s room, but Utah put the kids to work on the computer. They’re over at the diner now.”

Josie took a second to glare at me. Then she turned back to Conrad. “Utah tells me you were in the diner when—” She caught herself just before saying Gwyneth Price’s name. “When Carol Kramer was talking to the lady that Utah found this morning. Can you tell us anything? Did you see anything suspicious?”

He scratched the two-day beard on his neck and shook his head. “They just talked, and then the strange woman left and Carol stopped to help me with my crossword.” He stopped and thought for a little longer. “And there was a phone call. The lady with the black hair and the red coat didn’t sound too happy about it, but I couldn’t tell what it was about. They were standing right next to my booth when she got the call. Then she handed an envelope to Carol, and they hugged, and she left.”

Nothing new. I turned to leave, but Conrad kept talking. “I’ve been working on a new design for the little wind turbines they’re making over at the school, and I think I have the mechanics of it worked out—with Oscar’s help, of course—but it looks a little silly. I’ve got the plans right here. Will you two ladies take a look and see if you can suggest some way to make it look more like a yard ornament instead of farm equipment?”

He brought out his plans and laid them on the counter. He was right—it looked silly. At first glance, it looked like an aluminum beer can that someone sliced open from top to bottom in about five places, and then twisted the strips sideways so they would catch the wind. But when we got closer and looked at the dimensions, it was much bigger. In a back yard it might be OK, if kids kept their fingers away from the spinning blades.

We talked about the design for a few minutes until Helen, Conrad’s wife, came in through the back door. She and Josie started chatting about Amy’s baby, while I stayed at the counter with Conrad. We ended up talking about city council business. I was bored and I wanted to leave, but Josie and Helen were looking at colors on the snack packages, coming up with combinations that would look cute in the baby’s room.

“It’s really more like a closet,” Helen said. “We put in a smaller table and carved a little space out of the dining room for the baby. It’s crowded, but I’m having so much fun.”

It was almost half an hour later when Josie’s cell phone tinkled. She listened for a few moments, and then put the phone back in her pocket.

“That was Mort. We need to get back.”

After we said quick goodbyes to Conrad and Helen and left the station, Josie said, “Mildred just walked into the museum, and she’s acting funny.”

I drove one block, passing the grain elevators on the right and the diner on the left, and pulled into the parking lot next to Mildred’s little red Hyundai hatchback. I thought all that baby talk with Helen had improved Josie’s mood, but we were in the museum and walking past the American cheetah when she stopped and turned.

“Last year,” she said, “when you were accused of killing Larry Webb and all those horrible stories about you started popping up all over the Internet, I helped you find out what happened because you’re my daughter. I love you, and I’d do anything to protect you. But this thing with Gwyneth, it’s not our business. Let the sheriff handle it.”

She turned and stalked off towards the kitchen door. I caught up with her when we passed the new unfinished sculpture in the studio. “You’re not thinking that Gabe’s real father is a suspect, do you? I can’t imagine why he would—”

She whirled around and confronted me, angrily. “Utah O’Brien. Leave. It. Alone.”

FOURTEEN

When we walked into the kitchen, Mildred was sitting on the couch next to Mort. She was holding Grace without paying much attention to her, and the baby was crying.