Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream (23 page)

I was in over my head. I had no idea how to prove who killed her dog. I tried to think of similar episodes on
Murder, She Wrote
or
CSI Miami
or
NCIS
, but nothing came. I’d have to watch more of Ida’s DVDs.

Finally, I asked, “Why didn’t you get along with Buster?”

Vivian placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of me. An animal hair floated on the top.

“It’s a long story,” she said.

As she set the microwave timer for her tea water, I fished the hair from my cup. Hot, hot, hot. I burned my finger. I breathed in sharply through clenched teeth, consoling myself with the thought that all major germs must have been annihilated.

“Tell me about it,” I said, blowing on my seared finger.

I sneezed again.

“The man’s fifty-five going on fifteen. He drives a Chevy Camaro, for heaven sakes, one of them sporty cars. Besides, I think he’s into a few things, if you know what I mean.”

I didn’t know. “Things?”

Vivian shrugged. “Smoking. But I don’t care about that. I’m just interested in the big stuff, like murdering my Dora.”

“Smoking? You mean pot?”

“What else?” The microwave dinged and she removed her tea water. “This is a small town. You hear things. He gets together with his little group.”

“Do you think he was smoking when he hit the tree?”

“Don’t think so, but I don’t know.”

“I’ll go see Verney later.”

I added milk to my coffee. Tiny white chunks curdled on the surface.

“Drink up,” Vivian said as she grabbed a bag from the shelf. “Have a cookie with it.”

Gingersnaps. I didn’t like gingersnaps. To me, they fell into the same category as raisin cookies. They’re a why-bother kind of cookie. To be polite I took one and forced myself to nibble. That way I didn’t have to drink the coffee with the hair and the sour milk chunks.

Back to probing. Gently.

“Vivian, do you get into town much?”

“Once a week, sometimes more.”

“That’s good. It must be lonely living out here.”

“Sometimes. But I’ve got my dogs and cats for company. And friends. And I go to dog shows now, too.”

“You must miss your husband. I know I still miss my father, and he died over three years ago.”

She nodded and set her tea on the table. “Sure, I miss him, but that’s life. Maybe one of these days I’ll meet someone else, get married again.”

Meet someone else. The magic words. Had she met Percy?

“Not too many places to meet someone around here, Vivian, but I guess there are a few.”

“Umm. Gotta go where the men are. That’s what my friend Margaret always says.”

“The librarian?” I asked just to be sure we were talking about the same woman. Ms. Erotica.

“Yes. You’ve met her?”

“I have,” I said. “You must read a lot. Go to the library a lot?”

“That’s for sure. Too much.”

I couldn’t help the flurry of excitement that set my heart racing. I wondered if Aunt Ida had heard Vivian’s voice in the library. She’d made the Returns’ List. I might actually be talking to a murderer. Or the accomplice.

“Meet any nice men yet?” I asked, going for the direct approach.

She looked at me strangely, her mouth slightly open. What did I expect her to say? Oh, yes, I know Percy Kendall very well. Had wild sex with him just last week.

Nora, Nora.

Vivian just shook her head.

I’m not good at this detective business. I should turn in my badge. If I owned a badge, I might turn it in.

“Well, Vivian, I’ll look into this for you.”

“What’s your fee?” she asked, picking up her checkbook.

“You can pay me after I’ve uncovered some information for you.”

“Mary Fran said I should give you a retainer.” She wrote a figure on the check and handed it to me.  “Please take it. I insist.”

“Thank you,” I said, glancing at the generous check. “But it’s really not necessary.”

She handed me a few doggie treats. “Here, give them a bite to eat. It’ll help your relationship with them.”

I did not want a relationship with her Pomeranians, but I tossed the treats in Sugar Bottom’s direction as a diversion. It worked and I made a quick get-away.

* * *

I drove to Buster’s house and knocked on the door. No one answered. A truck was parked in the driveway, so I knocked a few more times. If Buster had poisoned Dora, I wanted to nab him. Although I had no great affection for animals due to my body’s adverse reaction to most of them, I would never harm one, and I detested anyone who would sink so low.

Vivian loved her Poms. I understood love. And loss.

I left without seeing Buster Verney.

But I thought I saw a curtain flutter as I was leaving.

TWENTY-THREE

With a sinking feeling, I laid out my recently delivered L.L. Bean order on the bed Monday morning, wondering whether I’d lost some part of myself by doing this. A six-pack of white socks, two pairs of jeans, a blue sweatshirt, a natural Irish fisherman crewneck sweater, a second red-patterned sweater, several plain blouses, and—a mental drum roll here—Gore-Tex waterproof hiking boots with soles thick enough to walk through fire, protect from snake bites, and grip the snow like tires with chains.

There was also a Swiss Army knife. Can’t say what compelled me to add this to my purchases. I needed a weapon? A tool? I was letting Maine things go to my head?

All of the above.

I hefted it in my hand. Well, I could use this. It had a can opener and I ate lots of canned stuff. I opened all the little sections. How useful was this. Everyone should have a Swiss Army knife, a nice red one like I had. Besides the can opener, there was a bottle opener, screwdrivers, a saw, a key ring, tweezers and a toothpick. I wondered about the tiny saw. I closed the sections, then flipped them open again. Amazing. Maybe for Christmas I’d buy my friends a knife like this. But not shiny apple-red like mine. I’d get them New York black.

I set the knife on the dresser where I could look at it, and selected a pair of stonewashed jeans and a dark denim blouse. They were comfortable clothes. I had to admit that. The jeans fit well. I put on the socks. With a grimace, I pulled on the Gore-Tex hikers. I’d selected the light gray, a good choice, I thought. Everyone else probably chose the darker charcoal so they wouldn’t show the dirt. I would keep mine clean. I turned them this way and that. How different from my great-grandfather’s dumpy boots. I walked around.

“Testing, one-two-three-four.”

Not bad. Comfortable. They wouldn’t aggravate the blister on my heel caused by the clodhopper boots. I was good to go.  I picked up my knife. If I wanted, I could hook it onto the belt loop at my waist. For now, I slipped it into my pocket. Later, I’d try it hooked to my loop, something to look forward to.

I found Aunt Ida reading a mystery in the front room. Ignoring the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen, I asked, “Did you ever notice that Grandma Evie spent time in the woods?”

She put her book down. “My-oh-my!” Her eyes lit. “Don’t you look the one today. I like the boots. And the jeans. And the blouse.”

I looked like I was on my way to a hoedown or something, but I acknowledged her praise with a simple, “Thank you.” Then, “About Grandma Evie?”

Ida wrinkled her forehead. “I wouldn’t say she spent a lot of time in the woods. ‘Course, every now and again she’d go berry picking and would be gone a while. It always seemed she should have found more berries considering how long she was at it. In her last year, of course, she didn’t go at all.”

I sat on the hassock in front of Ida.

“She buried a box. I didn’t tell you about it before because I thought she wanted me to keep it secret, but I’ve decided there’ve been enough secrets in this family.”

I handed her the letter and the map. “Here, read this.”

I wandered out to the kitchen to investigate the aroma. Bless this woman. She’d made fresh berry scones. I took one, added a bit of raspberry jelly she’d set out, poured a cup of coffee into a violet-flowered, bone china mug, and carried my treasure to the front room.

Ida looked up. “I don’t suppose you found the box?” she asked, surprising me by not commenting on the sexual harassment business. That was the important part of the letter. I shouldn’t be surprised. Why was I surprised? What was wrong with me that I couldn’t understand her reluctance to discuss sex, or the problems that made my father run to a place where no one knew him and he could get lost in a crowd?

I shook my head. “No. I tried to find the box. No luck. I’m going to get Nick to help me today.”

I took another nibble of the scone, and closed my eyes in pure ecstasy.

“No need. I know trees as well as Evie did.”

Oh, no.

My mouth full of scone, I rasped, “Yes, but—”

“This should stay in the family.”

I swallowed quickly. “You can’t go tramping through the woods, Ida. I don’t want that.”

“Sure I can. I still walk in the woods.”

“Not a good idea. The box could be a distance from the house.”

Fortunately, she stopped arguing and accepted. “Family,” was all she said as she reached for the phone. “You need family.”

“Okay. I guess I could do that instead of having Nick.”

I wasn’t sure who she intended to call. One of the cousins? Uncles? Resigned to having a relative accompany me, I sighed, more for dramatic effect than anything else, and went back to the kitchen for another scone. Maybe I’d try the blueberry jam with this one.

“Who’s coming?” I asked when I saw her going up the stairs a little later.

“Hannah and Agnes. This will be great fun. They weren’t doing anything today either.”

“Ida,” I said as she bustled up the stairs. “I thought you were calling one of the uncles. I am definitely not going to traipse into the woods with you, Agnes and Hannah. Absolutely not. Someone will fall and break their neck.”

She waved her hand, dismissing my concern.

“Nonsense. We’ll manage just fine.” She disappeared at the top of the stairs.

“Agnes has trouble getting out of a car,” I called up.

“Luckily, we won’t be using a car,” Ida called back.

Half an hour later Hannah and Agnes drove up in the big teal GTO. Ida had the front screen door open before they knocked.

“We have our work cut out for us today. I hope you’re both up to it. Nora’s concerned we won’t be able to manage the woods.”

“Pshaw.” Hannah said, showing me her work gloves. “We may be slow, but we’re fit. Let’s get on with this before it’s time for my nap. Or Agnes’s potty visit.” Chuckling, she winked at Ida.

Cute. Very cute. I was crazy to go out with this trio. I should have my head examined.

Agnes bagged two scones on the way to the back door. Her jeans, which were probably size super-jumbo, stretched tightly across her lumpy rear end. I followed the trio at a snail’s pace, out the back door, map in hand.

“I thought we could all use a bit of adventure,” Ida remarked as I handed the map to Hannah and opened the shed door. “There’s a mystery here and we shall solve it.”

“Do you think we should bring a thermos?” Agnes asked.  “We didn’t bring a thermos, you know.”

“A shovel would be better,” I suggested as I passed one out. Not that I expected the aunts to dig. I would handle that.

Hannah studied the map. “Trust Evie to make a treasure map. That woman loved pirate stories.”

“Doesn’t our Nora look wonderful today?” Ida asked as we inched through the high grass toward the stream. It was ten-fifteen in the morning. The box was probably a few hundred yards from the house. If we made it back before dark, I’d consider myself lucky. Agnes had the right idea bringing rations. I should have considered a picnic lunch, at the very least.

“I did notice,” Hannah remarked. “Lovely. Not that she doesn’t look lovely in her city togs, but … Oh, down this way.” She pointed toward the stream. “There’s the red pine. We cross here and go past the grove of white pine.”

Fortunately, the stream was barely a trickle at this point, and there were big flat stepping stones. We crossed easily. Agnes made me nervous, but she waddled across without mishap. Slowly. Very slowly.

“Maine is the Pine Tree State because of the abundance of these white pines,” Hannah informed me.

“Interesting,” I said, not interested at all.

We moseyed along at a tortoise pace for about half an hour.

“Sunlight ahead,” Hannah called over her shoulder. “That’s probably where the quaking aspens are. “Oh, yes. Here we go. North for a bit.”

“I hope we’re almost there,” Agnes boomed. “I’m ready for a break.”

“Don’t complain,” Ida admonished. “You wanted to come.”

“I do not want gum. It sticks to my false teeth,” Agnes said loudly.