The Trouble with Turkeys (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

Zak had returned from his three-hour walk with Margaret just in time for her to change for the funeral. I knew the family would be gone several hours at least, and this might very well be the last time everyone would be gone all at once. I helped Jeremy for a while longer and then followed Zak into the house. As I had the day before, I took off my shoes, but this time I had coveralls to remove as well, to minimize the risk of tracking turkey dung across the spotlessly clean floor.

“So?” I asked as we set up in the office. “Did you find out anything relevant from Margaret?”

“I did,” Zak confirmed. “Margaret and her mother arrived Thursday afternoon, shortly after Leroy, who, according to Margaret, arrived at three o’clock in the afternoon on the day Pike found the body. They drove, so this is a little hard to verify.”

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t kill Charles,” I pointed out. “They could have come to the farm, offed him, and then left, only to return after the others did.”

“That’s true,” Zak acknowledged. “If the estate is divided equally, Peggy stands to inherit ten million of the fifty million dollars Charles has been sitting on, plus a fifth of the estate he built on his own.”

“Wait.” Something had occurred to me.
“Jeremy said Charles disinherited Peggy when she married a man he didn’t approve of. Wouldn’t that mean she would receive nothing?”

“My thought exactly,” Zak said.
“According to Margaret, Charles disinherited Peggy in his heart, but he never did from his will. His estate was always to be divided between his four children. He recently added Holly, dividing the assets into five equal shares. When Bertram went to jail for killing his wife, Charles altered the will so that his share would go to Brent.”

“Did Margaret find it odd that you were asking all these questions?”

“Not really. I was careful to work the questions casually into our conversation and she seemed happy to have someone to talk to. I got the impression that she is a very lonely woman who doesn’t get a lot of male attention.”

“So she was just flattered that you asked to take a walk with her and didn’t stop to question why.”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay, so according to Margaret, Leroy arrived Thursday afternoon. Can we verify that?”

“I’m checking into it.”

“Okay, so who
can
we eliminate?”

“Raymond Wells, the man who filed the lawsuit, apparently settled out of court.
I spoke briefly to Mason, who confirmed that he was quite happy with the settlement he received.”

“Mason told you that?”

“He did. As a prospective buyer of the property, it is my right to know about any potential lawsuits that could result in a lien against the property.”

“That makes sense. So where does that leave us
?”

“Oliver and Olivia, Peggy and Margaret,
Leroy, Brent, Mason, and the farm workers, Bill Parker and Glen Collins.”

“Is that it?”

“The mistress, Dolly Robinson, hasn’t been seen by anyone including Holly since the murder. Holly confirmed that she’s been staying at her place, but her mother hasn’t come home.”

“I thought Holly learned of Charles’s death from her mother.”

“She did. Dolly called Holly and informed her of Charles’s death and her inclusion in the will, but when Holly got here, Dolly was nowhere to be found. Holly figured her mom just needed some time to herself, but when she didn’t show up for the viewing yesterday, she began to get worried.”

“So who do you think did it?” I asked Zak.

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“So what now? We have an hour and a half at least until the troops return. How should we use that time?”

Zak grinned.

“Pervert,” I teased.

“Why don’t you search Peggy, Margaret, Leroy, and Brent’s rooms, and I’ll look around in here some more and then check out Oliver and Olivia’s room? Let’s plan to be out of the house in an hour. I wouldn’t want to get caught by someone returning early.”

I felt like a cat burglar as I made my way upstairs. I really wanted to figure out who killed Charles Tisdale, but I have to admit I felt strange going through everyone’s personal possessions. A search of Peggy’s room revealed that she had a cosmetic collection that would rival Estée Lauder’s, but other than confirming what I already expected about her overly loud and gaudy wardrobe, I didn’t come up with anything really interesting about her participation in Charles’s death.

Margaret’s room was neat and organized and featured a stack of romance novels on the bedside table as well as a scented candle and a framed photo of her with a young man wearing a military uniform. I couldn’t help but wonder about the fate of the young man in the photo. Based on Margaret’s interest in Zak, I was willing to bet he was no longer in the picture.

Leroy’s room revealed a wardrobe selection equally gaudy to Peggy’s, as well as a thick legal document declaring Leroy’s intent to sue Charles for unpaid back wages if he didn’t negotiate a settlement to address the issue.  I remembered that Leroy had worked on the farm for a good part of his life under the false assumption that he would one day inherit the property from his father.  If the threat of a lawsuit hadn’t produced the desired result, could Leroy have decided to take matters into his own hands?

I took a photo of the top page of the document with my phone and made my way to Brent’s room at the end of the hall. Like Margaret’s, Brent’s was neat and tidy. His clothes were hung strategically by color, his bedside table free of clutter other than the thriller he was reading, and his private bath was spotless, with his toiletries lined neatly on the counter. I was about to leave the room when I noticed the drawer of the bedside table half open. I looked inside and found an old journal, worn and yellow with age. I turned to the first page and gasped. It seemed I’d found my killer.

Zak had to meet with his attorney regarding the purchase of my grandfather’s property, so I was on my own as I drove to the turkey farm the following morning. I found that I really missed his company, which in some ways was bizarre, considering it was only a few weeks since I had been avoiding his presence at any cost. My dad had to work today, as did Levi and Ellie, so I had dropped off Charlie and Maggie at Donovan’s. Zak was going to pick them up when he finished his business meeting and then stay with them until I got home. I’m not sure why exactly, but I had the feeling that today was the day Maggie’s hopefully healthy bundles of joy would be making their way into the world.

Jeremy and I were busy with the turkeys well into the afternoon.
The day progressed quickly as I filled him in on the progress of the murder investigation. Not only had our search uncovered Leroy’s legal action against his father but the fact that Brent had a very revealing journal written by Charles as a young man, catapulted him to the top of our suspect list. A cursory read the previous day had revealed that Charles began writing the journal as a young man seeking freedom from the tyranny of an abusive and overbearing father. The journal detailed his journey from subjugation and poverty to riches and independence through hard work and untold sacrifice. The journal ended with his confession that he
had
been giving belladonna to Amelia and although it was an accident, he most likely
was
the catalyst for her untimely death. I wasn’t sure where Brent had gotten the journal or if the contents were the subject of their recent encounter, but my gut told me I should move seemingly mild-mannered Brent to the top of our suspect list.

As we had the previous day, we counted the birds as we inspected and then moved them. If thirty missing turkeys presented a mystery the day before, the fact that we had extra turkeys today was outright bizarre.

“I don’t get it.” Jeremy scratched his head. “Yesterday we were short thirty and today we have three over the original inventory.”

“Do you think we miscounted?” I wondered.

“We must have. I thought we were being careful, but for the life of me I can’t come up with any other explanation for the discrepancy in number.”

“Maybe someone took them and then returned them?”

“Why would anyone do that?”

I had no idea.

“Besides,” Jeremy added, “if someone
did
borrow them, why would we have three more than we began with now?”

“Interest?” I speculated.

Jeremy rolled his eyes at my ridiculous suggestion.

“I guess we’ll just have to be a little more careful tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll figure out a way to double-check our numbers and see where we stand.”

“Good idea.”

“So is the family still assembled?” I asked.

“So far no one has left. I guess there’s going to be an informal gathering among the various attorneys to identify any and all challenges to the will as it stands. Last I heard, the meet and complain is scheduled for Thursday. I’d be willing to bet no one leaves before then.”

Today was Monday, which gave me a few more days to snoop around.

“Has the vet come by to look at the sick birds?” I wondered. The previous day we’d identified eight birds exhibiting symptoms that most closely resembled intoxication. They stumbled around, lacking direction and coordination. I know it’s crazy to even contemplate, but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear that somehow they’d gotten into the abandoned still I’d found at the edge of the property. Pike had mentioned that the still had belonged to the previous owner of the property and hadn’t been operational for years, but based on the behavior of the birds we’d isolated, I wondered if Charles hadn’t resurrected the dinosaur without anyone knowing about it.

“He thinks they may have ingested something poisonous. He’s having the feed tested and said we should be extra
diligent about watching for similar behavior in other birds.”

“He thinks someone could have poisoned the feed?”

“Not necessarily, but he wanted to eliminate the possibility. The reality is that if the feed is contaminated, all the birds would be sick. But only eight seem to be infected, so he’s considering other options. He took one of the birds with him and said he’d call me when he found something out.”

“Who knew turkeys could be so much trouble?” I lamented. “
I noticed Holly arrived on the property a little while ago. If you don’t need me, I thought I’d try to have a chat with her. I’d like to get a better feel for her mom’s relationship with Charles.”

“Go ahead. We’re almost done here.”

Holly appeared to be about Brent’s age. She had long black hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. In spite of her age, her style of dress and immaculate grooming made her appear both mature and sophisticated. I found her sitting in a lounge chair near one of the waterfalls, bundled up in tan slacks and a warm cashmere sweater.

“Mind if I join you?” I sat down across from her without waiting for an answer. “It’s a beautiful day for this time of year.”

“It is,” she agreed. “I was getting tired of sitting alone at my mother’s and remembered how lovely the garden is.”

“So your mother hasn’t returned?”

Holly frowned at me before answering. I imag
ine she was trying to decide how much I knew and how much she should reveal. “No. I spoke to Oliver about it, and he said he’d look into it, but as far as I can tell, no one seems to be looking into anything other than who should get what.”

“Were you surprised to be included in Charles’s will?”

Holly shrugged, her long straight hair draped over one shoulder. If I had to guess, I’d say she was of Hawaiian descent. She had a look of tropical elegance about her. “Not really,” she answered. “Charles is,” she hesitated, “
was
a bitter and lonely old man with strong opinions that ruled his life and isolated him from the people he should have loved. By the time I met him, he was locked inside an emotional prison from which I think even he realized he’d never be able to escape. I’ve always been the type of person to pick up strays, whether human or animal. When I first met him, I could see his pain, so I spent most of my vacation with my mother being the biggest pain in the ass I could possibly be.”

I laughed. “What do you mean by that?”

“I would sit and talk to Charles for hours on end. He absolutely hated it. He ranted and raved and demanded I leave, but the more he pushed me away, the more determined I was to break though the shell he’d built. It broke my heart that he had no one.”

“He had your mom,” I pointed out.

Holly laughed. “Hardly. My mom is great. She raised me on her own, sent me to culinary school, and is helping me start my own bistro. She lived her life with no other goal than to give me everything I ever wanted. Unfortunately, the way my mother chose to fund my life was to hook up with old men with more money than sense. She never stole from them. Everything she received was freely given, but I can assure you that she never loved or even cared for any of them. They were a means to an end, and in most cases they knew that and were fine with it.”

“Your mother must be a beautiful woman,” I speculated. I figured she’d have to be to win the affections of so many rich men.