Draw and Order

by Cheryl Hollon

  The two of them had met at the University of Kentucky College of Medicine during long hours in the labs. Then they were both selected for internships at the university’s Chandler Medical Center.

  Felicia wouldn’t say that they were besties in any sense of the word. But they knew each other well and respected each other’s professional standards. But Barbara’s behavior on the mountain was disconcerting. Everyone tolerated discomfort in different ways, but that was a side of her friend that she hadn’t known existed.

  Could she be wrong about Barbara’s professionalism? No, they had worked well together many times. Anyway, she knew Barbara would call as soon as she had something to report. Not sooner. Not one moment sooner.

  To calm herself, Felicia tackled a clerical job she had been putting off for months. Okay, maybe even years. She needed to empty her filing cabinets of old reports and prepare them for archiving into off-site storage. It was the perfect task to occupy her distracted mind. She had two full document boxes labeled and was halfway through filling up the third when the phone rang.

  “Dr. Larson, Wolfe County coroner.”

  “Hi, Felicia. Are you busy?”

  “No. Frankly, I’m packing up archival boxes of paperwork waiting for your call. I’m too distracted to trust myself with anything more taxing. Did I do right by calling you in?”

  “That was exactly the right call. These bones are quite the challenge. I needed every advantage that my modern lab gives me. You might have gotten to the same conclusion, but your results might not have been so clearly compelling.”

  “What’s the result? Do you have an identity?”

  “Dental records, sparse as they are, have confirmed that the remains are those of Howard Cable, who went missing five years ago.”

  Felicia sucked in a breath between her teeth. “Oh, no. That’s right in our backyard. His mother lives a few miles beyond Campton on Highway 191 in a little village called Trent. It’s not much more than a crook in the road these days. Apparently it was named after a Trent ancestor who established a post office in their tiny general store. He originally owned all the land around there, but he died young.” Felicia paused. “Anyway, Howard’s mother, Ora Cable, has been expecting to hear from him every day since he disappeared. She had hoped that he had taken off to explore the world, but she didn’t think that was likely. Miranda did give a fair warning that it could be Howard.”

  “Apparently, he found himself in a lot of trouble. There are signs that he had injured himself and wouldn’t have been able to get off the mountain.”

  “What? How?” Felicia leaned forward.

  “Well, this is preliminary only, but the bones in his right leg were broken. It would certainly have prevented him from climbing down the Indian Staircase, but I don’t understand why he didn’t attempt the back trail. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What about a head injury? A concussion?”

  “Nope. No evidence of a fractured skull.” Barbara sucked a breath between her teeth. “That doesn’t mean that he didn’t have bruising from a fall or an altercation.”

  “If he was injured, went into shock with the pain, and then got dehydrated, he might not have been able to think properly.”

  “As I said, this is very preliminary. I thought you might want to know about the fractured femur.”

  “Thanks for that. His mother is going to be devastated. I need to get over there before the news gets out.”

  “I’ll send you an official document with the identification. I have a long way to go before I’ll be ready for a de-finitized cause of death.”

  “I’ll tell the sheriff. He’s wanting to get this case closed as quickly as possible. He’s confusing me with his attitude to this case. Normally, he would be breathing down my neck to support the investigation in any way possible. Hmmm. Maybe there’s a political aspect he hasn’t told me about. Sorry, I went off on a tangent. I’m good to wait until you finish your investigation.”

  Sheriff Larson leaned into her office. “What did she say?”

  Felicia rolled her eyes. The thin walls of her office meant that there were no secrets in the office. “She identified the victim as Howard Cable.”

  His shoulders dropped. “Oh, no. I was afraid of that. Dammit.”

  “Do you want me to break the news to his mother? It might help a bit if it comes from me. You’re the sheriff. It’s your call.”

  “I agree it should be you. She’s been in denial for the whole five years. It will be better from you.” Felicia noticed his resigned tone, yet he seemed to be relieved. “She lives alone in that house now, right?”

  “Yes,” Felicia replied. “Her younger daughter, Anna Belle, married and moved up to Maysville last year, and her older daughter, Anna Sue, left the year before that. Why?”

  “Telling her is going to be rough.”

  “I’ll call Miranda and have her go with me. It will be good for her to have family around when this news comes.”

  “When was Dr. DuPont going to send over the death certificate?”

  “She said she had more investigation to do. She discovered a fractured femur that would have incapacitated him to some extent. There’s not a clear cause of death as yet so she’ll be continuing with her autopsy. I know Barb, she’ll take those bones down to atoms in order to dig out the cause of his death.”

  “My poor budget. I can’t afford her.” He shook his head like a dog shedding water. “But now that we know he’s one of ours, it doesn’t really matter. If I get fired for serving our citizens, then that’s the way I want to leave this job. Not for watching pennies from a self-serving politician’s campaign promise. I’ll not trade my duties for his political schemes.”

  “Don’t worry so much. The university supplements her expenses. She always gets a couple of technical papers out of each of the cases we send her. You’re getting a bargain. Most of the time, Mr. Budget Watcher, the university forgets to send you an invoice.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, I still like to whine, though.”

  “And you’re pretty good at it. Go to your room.” She turned her back to him. “I’m calling Miranda right now. Once Barb files that paperwork, it won’t take any time at all for the news to leak. Gossip is a university’s bloodstream.”

  Felicia dialed Miranda’s farmhouse.

  “Good afternoon. Paint and Shine Cultural Adventures. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, Miranda. This is Felicia. Dr. DuPont has identified the remains and you were absolutely right. Barb says the bones belong to your cousin Howard Cable.”

  There was no answer on the line.

  “Miranda? Are you there? Have I lost you?”

  “Sorry, I’m here, Felicia. I was expecting this, but I’m surprised to be so sad.”

  “There’s no way to predict how we’ll react to a death.”

  “Even when it’s expected?” Miranda’s voice was strained.

  “It’s the end of all hope.”

  Felicia was silent for a few seconds. “Listen, I’m going to go over to break the news to his mother. Can you meet me there? I’m going to upset her and I would be more comfortable if she had more family with her.”

  “How did he die?”

  “I don’t have the final results from Barb. She says that he had a fractured leg but isn’t ready to disclose anything else. I won’t get the full report until after she finishes her examination. She’s incredibly thorough.”

  “Of course, and I’m glad for that. I’ll get right on over to my aunt’s house. Give me about twenty minutes. My mom and I will leave in a few minutes. I’ll see you there.”

  “What? Your mom is here? That’s wonderful. How did she get here so quick? I thought she lived up in Dayton. That’s a three-hour drive.”

  “Mom made it in two-and-a-half.”

  Chapter 10

  Late Monday Afternoon, Aunt Ora’s House

  Miranda pulled off the Mountain Parkway at Exit 43 and turned onto the road that led through the small downtow
n section of Campton and onto Highway 191. Her mother sat in the van beside her, quietly crying into a tissue. “Mom! What’s the deal? You’re usually so strong. You’ve got to get yourself under control before we get to Aunt Ora’s house. She’s gonna need you to lean on.”

  Dorothy blew her nose and sniffed. She grabbed another tissue, pulled down the van’s visor to look into the mirror while she dabbed at her messy mascara. “You’re right. She’s been so hopeful all these years. Absolutely every conversation I’ve had with her since he disappeared, she has been convinced he would be home any day now.” Dorothy’s hand dived back into her purse and she applied some powder and a touch of eye shadow and freshened her lipstick. “Now that he’s going to completely break her heart, I almost wish you hadn’t found him.”

  “Mom”—Miranda heard her voice rise in pitch—“it sounds like you’re blaming me for finding him. Surely it is better to know?”

  Dorothy tilted her head to one side. “She’s lost all hope now.”

  Miranda drove right on through Campton and took the curvy road as fast as a local. She wanted to arrive before Felicia. They pulled into the gravel driveway to her aunt’s house. Just as they shut the doors to the van, a slim frail woman pushed open the screen door of the side porch and walked out to the driveway. “Why, laws. Dorothy! I’m surprised to see you. You should have let me know you were coming down. I would have baked my special spice cake.”

  Dorothy gave her sister a huge hug. Miranda could sense the control her mother was using to keep from bursting into tears.

  “Miranda, you come on over here and give me a hug, too. You’re just getting too busy with that tourist business of yours. I haven’t seen you but once since you moved down here. Come on in and sit a spell.”

  Just as they turned, a vehicle pulled in right behind Miranda’s white van.

  Aunt Ora looked at it as if it had landed from the moon. “Now who would be calling on me? I don’t get much company now that my girls have moved away.”

  Felicia walked over and nodded a greeting to Miranda and her mom. Felicia had slipped on a black jacket over her normal jeans and white T-shirt. It gave her a professional air as she looked at the little woman in the doorway.

  Aunt Ora put her hand over her mouth and turned a sickly shade of yellow green. “Oh, no. Oh, no. No. No.”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Cable,” said Felicia, “I’m glad your family is here. I have some bad news. Can we go inside?”

  “It’s Howard!” Ora shrieked. “It’s Howard! He’s been dead all this time. Oh, Lord. I can’t stand it.” All color left her face and her eyelids fluttered.

  Mirada stepped into the doorway and caught her aunt as she fainted in her arms.

  Chapter 11

  Monday Evening, the Farmhouse

  Miranda and her mother were sipping hot mugs of cider with cinnamon sticks on the front-porch swing of the farmhouse. They had kept company with Aunt Ora until her younger daughter drove down from Maysville. Anna Belle assured them that she would stay with her mother. Her older sister, Anna Sue, was expected first thing in the morning. They would both stay to take care of their mother and help prepare for Howard’s funeral.

  “Mom, I didn’t realize how much Aunt Ora has aged until I saw the two of you together.”

  “I know, it’s dreadful. She’s three years younger than I am, but Howard’s disappearance took a terrible toll. He was her only son and quite the favorite. She spoiled him rotten by indulging his every interest and obsession.”

  “Like what?”

  Dorothy inhaled a deep breath. “They changed from season to season, but the one that stayed constant was his interest in the legends of the lost Jonathan Swift silver mines.”

  Miranda huffed, “He wasn’t the only one who spent time trying to track down the lost silver mines. Almost everybody has had a try.”

  Sandy had fallen asleep on Dorothy’s lap with his nose barely peeking out from underneath a cozy quilt. Miranda felt the peace of the moment and took her mother’s hand.

  “This will be hard for my sister.” Dorothy squeezed Miranda’s hand. “But I hope it brings her peace.”

  They sat a little longer enjoying the coolness of the evening. Miranda inhaled the moist hint of an oncoming storm. After a comfortable silence, she scooched from beneath the quilt, grabbed her mother’s mug, and started for the kitchen. “Stay here with Sandy. I need to check things in the barn. I haven’t yet taken a good look at my new fermenter.”

  Miranda washed up the mugs, grabbed a warm jacket, and walked out the back door onto the path that led to the barn. She flipped on the lights and felt a wave of pride. Getting to this point had taken a long list of things to be done. There were plans to be drawn and approved, permits to submit, equipment to order and install, and, finally, supplies to be delivered and stored.

  Since she wanted to start her first batch as soon as possible, she walked over to the stall area she had chosen for storing corn, yeast, molasses, and the flavoring ingredients. Although she had ordered a concrete slab for the distillation equipment, the rest of the barn floor was still hard-packed dirt.

  Her clients seemed to appreciate the authenticity of an old-fashioned tobacco barn, and realistically, the cost of paving the whole barn made her shiver. The ground was so hard packed after decades of use, she could literally sweep it like a floor between tours. Still, it was on the list for future improvements.

  She reached her supply stall and her heart fell. A huge puddle was at the entry to the stall.

  Puddle? There must be a leak.

  She stepped into the stall. All her dry ingredients were sopping wet.

  Ruined.

  As she was standing there, a giant drippy stream of rain hit one of the burlap bags of whole corn. She looked up at the ceiling. There was a hole in the roof about a foot square. The storm had found another way to cause her misery.

  She poked around the stall and finally gave up hoping to find anything to salvage. The corn, barley, and yeast were a complete loss. She was able to salvage the jars of molasses and blackberry jam.

  She went back to the kitchen and got her high-powered flashlight and scanned the ceiling of the barn, inch by inch. As far as she could see, there was only the one breach. Worst case meant that if more holes were found, she would probably need to have the whole roof replaced.

  Back in the house, she found her mother in the kitchen whipping up a huge batch of banana-pancake batter in the large yellow mixing bowl. “I felt like breakfast for our late dinner tonight. How about you?”

  Miranda smiled. She didn’t always get along with her mother, but no one knew Miranda better. “That’s just perfect. I need to call around for a handyman. I found a hole in the roof of the barn.”

  Dorothy stopped stirring the batter. “What! Your uncle just had that roof done not too long ago.”

  “It was from the storm last night. There’s no protection against a microburst of wind. Everything else looks fine. Unfortunately, the leak spoiled all the dry supplies for my first batch of moonshine. I’ll have to gather the whole lot again.”

  “Can’t you just reorder?”

  “I’m determined to keep this production completely local. So, I’ve got to pick up everything from the farmers around here. Not a big problem, it’s just that I have a busy week with clients and need the van for transportation. Then add the crisis of the discovery of Howard’s bones on the mountain, and I’m pretty much thinkin’ that brewing Uncle Gene’s moonshine will go to the back burner again.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Miranda smiled. “No, but thanks for asking. After I make a few calls, you can keep those pancakes coming.”

  In her office, which had been her late uncle’s bedroom, Miranda sat at her desk and pulled out her planning journal. She phoned Ron Menifee, the handyman the clerk at the post office had recommended last week. That’s the way things worked in Wolfe County. You asked people you knew to give you a contact for things that needed to be done.


  He answered on the first ring. “Ron, here.”

  “Hi, Ron, this is Miranda Trent, Gene Buchanan’s niece out on Hobbs Road. I’m needing a roof repair on his tobacco barn, and the clerk at the post office in Campton recommended you. My problem is that the roof got damaged in last night’s storm. Can you come out anytime soon?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ve worked on Gene’s farm a few times. He had a new roof put up on there a couple of summers ago. Must have been a weak spot that they missed. I can come out tomorrow morning and give it a look-see for you.”

  “That would be great. How early can you stop by? I have to pick up my clients over at Hemlock Lodge by ten o’clock.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you first thing—around eight o’clock?”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks so much!”

  She made an appointment in both her planner and her electronic calendar then shut down her computer.

  “Hello there in the house. I smell something mighty good coming from the kitchen.”

  Miranda found Austin standing on the front porch with a big smile on his face. “Is your mom making banana pancakes?”

  Miranda opened the screen door. “Yes, come on in. She’s made a giant stack and we can’t possibly eat them all. They don’t keep well, you know.” She followed him through the front room and into the dining room with its huge round table. It frequently sat eight and could manage ten in a pinch.

  As soon as he was in the dining room, Sandy tore through the kitchen door and rolled over to show his belly in front of Austin, accompanying this with puppy whines. Austin knelt and happily complied. “You sure know how to beg for belly scratches.”

  Holding an enormous platter of fluffy pancakes, Dorothy’s eyes twinkled when she saw Austin. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve made a mountain of banana pancakes. We need a big strong man like you to help finish these off. Have a seat. These are best when the butter melts into them.” She put the platter on the dining room table and made sure that Miranda sat next to Austin.