The Blood Ballad (6 page)

“It's Clifton Weaver,” Eleanore said.

“Who's that?” I asked. “Is he a local?”

“Yes,” she said. “He works at a shoe store over in Wisteria. Lives in New Kassel. Has lived here for years.”

“How do you know him?” Mort asked.

“He's an old college friend of Oscar.”

Oscar Murdoch, Eleanore's better half, was an all-around good guy. He'd been a staple of the tourism community for as long as I could remember. He was at least ten or fifteen years older than Eleanore. Most likely in his seventies now.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Mort said.

“I haven't seen too much of him since he started dating
Rosalyn Decker.”
She said the name as if it were coated in castor oil. I knew of Rosalyn Decker—and I knew her reputation as a player. Those especially not safe around Ms. Decker were widowers.

“Did he have any enemies?” Sheriff Mort asked.

“I really don't know; you'll have to ask Oscar. Now, can we please go home and change out of these god-awful clothes?”

“Of course,” Mort said. “Miller, drive them home.”

*   *   *

As soon as I had taken a shower, I put my clothes in a trash bag and headed downstairs to burn them. The phone rang, and the caller ID said it was my mother. I let it ring, because I just didn't have the energy to listen to my mother.

I love my mother. She's one of the wisest people I've ever known. Sometimes I think she's so wise because she's been wheelchair-bound since she was ten years old. She's done a lot of observing rather than participating. Not that physically disabled people can't participate, because they can, but my mother has chosen to sort of sit on the sidelines. As a result, she can read people better than anybody I know.

But she is a mother first and foremost, and I didn't want to listen to her tell me how being outside at dusk during hunting season was a stupid thing, even though the Olympics had been in the papers, there were signs about it all over town, the sheriff had marked off a ten-mile radius with signs saying
NO HUNTING,
and all of the deputies had been posted at regular intervals just so this very thing wouldn't happen.

But it still had. And my mom was going to make me feel as though it was my fault. So, after tossing my clothes in the fire pit, I walked to the stables to be with the horses.

Rudy and I used to live in town. Our house had looked right over the Mississippi River, but now we live in this house we had built for us on several acres. We didn't go all out and have a huge house built, because our kids would be leaving home in a few years and then it would be too big. It was a two-story brick structure, and there were times I still thought it was going to be too big someday, like when Rachel went off to college, but I pushed that thought from my mind. The real charm of where we live now is the acreage and all that goes with it.

I'd taken an hour-long shower, scrubbing and rescrubbing and sudsing up until I'd run out of soap and hot water, but somehow, I noticed the faint smell of skunk still lingered in my hair as I walked through the yard and then through the gate to the field beyond.

When I reached the stable, the horses made a few noises, and Cutter sneezed. Rudy and I own three quarter horses. It had been my idea to get them, and I had not regretted the decision for a single second. Yes, they are a lot of work, and yes, we probably don't ride them nearly enough, but they have this amazing calming effect on me and the whole family, and they lend a certain ethereal quality to our property. I know that sounds strange, but it's true. When Rudy and I decided to sell our house in town and move out here, I knew there was something missing. Regardless of the beautiful vistas and the hawks and even though I still had my chickens, there was something missing. It was the river. The Mississippi had been the view out my bedroom window ever since Rudy and I had gotten married. So, when I got the horses, they sort of filled the space that Old Man River had once occupied. The horses gave me something to reflect on, like I used to with the river.

The third horse we had bought, Nessie, had a black mane and a deep brown coat. Her two front legs were white from the knees down. They were her only distinguishing marks. Nessie was the horse I could always count on to be there for me. She sensed, almost immediately, whatever my mood was.

Now was no different. She came right to me and pranced around a bit as she registered the skunk smell. Then she settled in and let me pet her. I opened the door to her stall and walked through to the outside. All of the stalls had an opening out to the field. She followed me as I strode across the dark expanse and found my favorite part of the fence to sit on. I climbed up and sat down and she nuzzled me. “You don't mind the smell, do you?”

She whinnied and stepped sideways.

“Okay, so you do mind. But at least you're willing to keep me company.”

We sat there, alone like that, for at least a half hour. She ran off for a few seconds, but then she came right back. Even Cutter sauntered by briefly. Funny how I hadn't wanted to spend the night outdoors, and yet here I was under the stars, in the dark, petting Nessie.

I took in the view that moonlight had to offer and realized that there was something strange about the field.

It had one too many horses.

“What the…”

Just then, I saw the headlights from the van and knew that Rudy and the kids were home. I glanced back at the field and counted again. Yes, there were four horses. I was sitting there contemplating how this had happened when I heard Rudy walk up behind me.

“Hey, are you all right? Colin called me on my cell phone when we got out of the theater and said a hunter mistook Eleanore for a deer and shot at you guys.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm fine.”

He grabbed me and hugged me and then said, “What is that smell?”

“It's Dial-covered skunk.”

He started laughing then, and I jabbed him in the stomach.

“It's just that … well, I'll bet you're the only one who got sprayed by a skunk at the first ever annual New Kassel Birding Olympics,” he said through laughter.

“There's no annual,” I said.

“What?”

“I mean, this was it. There will be no repeat of this ridiculous event.”

“Wow, Torie, usually you have a little better attitude about the things that happen to you. No matter what happens, you can usually laugh about it.”

“Well, I'm not laughing this time.”

“Okay,” he said cautiously.

“Why do we have an extra horse?” I asked him.

“We have an extra horse?” he asked and peered into the field. The moonlight allowed him to make out the shape and movements of four horses. “I'll be damned. Was somebody pregnant?”

“No, besides, the new horse is even bigger than the ones we already had.”

“Oh,” he said. “I don't know. Look, why don't you come inside? Maybe Rachel told one of her friends she could board her horse here.”

“All right.”

We headed inside, and I played the phone messages while Rudy asked Rachel about the horse. There was a message from Glen Morgan, saying he would meet me the next day at the Kendall House. As much as I was excited about getting new info and pictures on my grandpa's music career, the thought of having to go anywhere other than to the refrigerator was pretty daunting. The next message was from my mother: “I know you're there. I know you're avoiding picking up the phone. I hope you're all right. I hope you don't have an outdoor event in the woods during deer season ever again.” Then she'd hung up.

“Well, Rachel doesn't know anything about a fourth horse,” Rudy said. All three kids went running past him into the night to see the horse that had magically appeared.

“So,” I said. “Did Colin tell you about the body?”

“The body?” he asked, getting out the milk. Then he stopped. “Wait. There was a body?”

I filled Rudy in on all of the events of the day, not just the skunk and the hunter part.

“So, what … a body just came flying over the edge of the cliff?”

“And Eleanore and I happened to be there when it landed.”

He leaned back and thought for a minute. Then, thinking better of it, he put the milk back and got out a beer. “Who was it?”

“Clifton Weaver? Shoe salesman over in Wisteria. Do you know him?”

Rudy shook his head. “No, never heard of him. Was he … shot?”

“I don't know. If he was shot, he was certainly beaten up first.”

“Well, what do you think?… I mean, I don't understand.”

“Me, neither,” I said. “Somebody obviously murdered him, shoved him in a trunk, and then tried to get rid of the body.”

“Which is ridiculous, because somebody would have found it eventually. People walk along the railroad tracks all the time. And it's hunting season—everybody is out.”

“The only thing I can think of is that either they were in a super hurry and intended to go back and move the body later or they thought it was going to go into the river.”

Rudy popped the top on his beer and took a swallow. “This is terrible.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Call my mother and tell her I'm all right.”

“Why don't you call her?”

“I'm tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“Sure,” he said. As I headed for the stairs, he added, “What do I do about Merlin the magical horse?”

I shrugged. “Feed him. I'll have Eleanore run it in the paper.”

THE NEW KASSEL GAZETTE

The News You Might Miss

by Eleanore Murdoch

 

Fellow New Kasselonians. I have been at my computer all night to bring you the news of the birding Olympics. Aside from the fact that my partner, Torie O'Shea, and I were shot at by targetly challenged hunters, the birding Olympics was a success. Elmer Kolbe and Mayor Colin Brooke won, with a total of thirty-three species of birds sighted, including the blue heron, which Elmer claims has existed here for the past two years but nobody else has ever seen. Now that the mayor has witnessed the existence here of the blue heron, I concede that I can no longer doubt Elmer's vision or birding skills. Second place went to Maddie Fulton and Lisa Berenger, third place to Tobias Thorley and Runa Williams.

The events committee would like me to remind everybody that we are having a
Scherenschnitte
demonstration next weekend at the visitors center.
Scherenschnitte
is the art of German paper cutting and should be a big hit with all of our tourists. In fact, the entire Wisteria German Club has signed up for the event.

Torie and Rudy O'Shea wanted me to announce the arrival of a new horse. Apparently, the Percheron just showed up in their field yesterday, and they'd like for the rightful owner to come and claim her.

Annette and Tom Lodke had their first child over the weekend, a girl!

Charity Burgermeister has handmade mittens and scarves for sale. She says she'll make you a matching hat but must have your head measurements first.

I shall go for now. Be sure to ask Sheriff Mort Joachim about the body that he told me not to give details about in the paper.

Until next time,

Eleanore

Six

“The Incredible Hulk does not have X-ray vision!” Mary screamed at the top of her lungs. My eyes had just parted to allow the morning sun to filter in when I heard this.

“But I'm pretending like he has X-ray vision!” Matthew countered.

“But that's not how it goes. Superman has X-ray vision.”

“But Superman's dumb.”

“Well, so are you!”

I rolled over and covered my head with my pillow and snuggled into Rudy's back. I could just lie here like this all day, right? I thought. Rubbing my feet back and forth on the supersoft sheets, I relaxed back into a semisleep state. After all, was there any reason I actually had to get out of bed?

Glen Morgan and the Kendall House. I had to open the museum. “Ugh.”

“Mary! Where are my angel earrings?” Rachel screamed from down the hall.

“I don't have your stupid earrings,” she said. “Why would I want those earrings. They're ugly and lame anyway!”

“Mom!” Rachel called. Her voice got louder as she bounded into my bedroom. “Mom. Tell her to give me back my earrings.”

“Mary, give your sister back her earrings,” I said.

“I don't have them!” Mary said, now standing in the bedroom, too.

“Mom, Mary says the Hulk can't have X-ray vision,” Matthew chimed in.

“Well, he doesn't have X-ray vision, honey, but you can pretend that he has whatever you want him to have.”

“See,” he said and stuck his tongue out at Mary.

Mary turned and stormed out of my bedroom. “I knew you'd take their side!”

“You have to seriously do something about her, Mother!” Rachel said, her dark brown eyes furious with sisterly disgust.

“I am doing something,” I said, putting my robe on and stretching.

“What?” she asked.

“I'm not killing her,” I said.

Rudy rolled over, leaned as far over as he could and patted my butt, and said, “That's my girl.”

“You are insufferable,” Rachel said and flew out of the room. Matthew used the distraction to jump on the bed and tickle Rudy, and then the two of them descended into a massive pillow fight and tickling marathon.

After a breakfast of Raisinets and Dr Pepper, I went outside to see Merlin. Although, upon closer inspection, I could tell that Merlin was actually a girl and I'd have to come up with a new name for her. She was also a Percheron. She was head and shoulders bigger than my quarter horses, with a gray speckled coat and a happy little lilt to her gait. I thought of the people around town who owned horses, but I couldn't think of anybody who had a Percheron.