Draw and Order

by Cheryl Hollon

  “Alfred wasn’t fired outright. Why not?” Austin sounded skeptical.

  “That’s what I thought, but since it was a joint project, I don’t think the owner wanted his nephew’s career derailed as well. So, they both were given counseling, and Alfred was shuffled out at the next group layoff. I don’t think the editorial room has quite recovered.”

  “What’s the nephew’s name?” asked Miranda.

  “Um, wait. I’ve got it here somewhere.” They could hear flipping pages. “It’s John Latchy. His uncle is the owner of the California-based company that owns a ton of newspapers.”

  “Thanks, Tyler. Did you find a connection between Latchy and Howard Cable?”

  “Not that I could find in the archives. Do you want me to keep looking?”

  “Yes, please, that would be great.”

  Austin ended the call and stowed his cell. “Interesting.”

  “Unexpected,” said Miranda. “Alfred doesn’t seem like someone who would take that path in his work. Even a rumor of such dealings is a career killer. If the nephew was guilty of the plagiarism, that might explain why Alfred now works freelance on his own. I would be shy of team reporting after getting fired for someone else’s dirty dealing.”

  “I don’t see a motive for Alfred at all.”

  Miranda scooped up Sandy, who had finally done enough running to plop down on her shoes panting like a steam engine. “One way that works for me is if Howard somehow got verifiable proof that it was Alfred who was guilty of plagiarism rather than the nephew. Howard might have been threatening to take the evidence to the Lexington Herald-Leader.”

  “Thin, but that would exonerate the owner’s nephew and not particularly hurt Alfred. I mean, he had already been let go.”

  “But proof might threaten Alfred’s future freelancing opportunities. Let’s search for his bylines.”

  They returned to the farmhouse and went straight to Miranda’s office. She logged on and executed a search for Alfred Whittaker’s byline. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought to do this before. Lapse of critical thinking, she thought.

  The results of the search indicated a huge quantity of material right after he joined the Lexington Herald-Leader, a several-year gap, and then he had a large backlog of published work.

  “What a strange pattern,” said Austin. “But it neither proves nor disproves the possibility that Alfred had a motive.”

  Miranda leaned back in her office chair. “Not a dead end, but Alfred goes to the bottom of the list right now.” She picked up her murder notebook. “I’ll write this up and we should go on to someone else.”

  “Who’s next?”

  Miranda turned the page. “Ben DeBerg, the criminal defense lawyer.”

  “We had better be careful. We don’t want to get on his bad side. Even when he was supposed to be relaxing at the view of Battleship Rock, he seemed tense. Like he was on a high alert of some kind.”

  Miranda typed Ben DeBerg attorney into the search engine and sat back in her chair. The screen displayed thirty-eight thousand results in 0.82 seconds for lawyer Benjamin George DeBerg, Washington, DC, co-owner of DeBerg & DeBerg Law Firm.

  “Wow, look at these glowing remarks.” Miranda pointed to different lines on the screen. “Top criminal defense attorney, law firm holds over twenty-five years’ experience in general practice, hardworking attorneys, accessible and compassionate.” She looked over to Austin. “Look at this one. ‘Attorney DeBerg commanded the courtroom from start to finish, presenting the case with very evident knowledge and confidence.’ ”

  “That’s from one of his clients?”

  “Yes, they wrote reviews about his services—just like he was a refrigerator.”

  “Personal recommendations mean—” Miranda was interrupted by a shotgun blast, followed by a long loud high-pitched cry from her chickens. She stood. “Something’s attacking the chickens.”

  Chapter 26

  Friday Evening, the Farmhouse

  Miranda and Austin ran out back to the brand-new chicken coop. Beside the gate to the outer run stood Ron, who was looking out over the field behind the barn. He snapped his shotgun up to his shoulder and fired another round at a glimpse of a reddish fluffy tail.

  “Damn, missed him.” Ron broke down the shotgun, flipped out the two spent cartridges, then got two more from his pocket. He slammed them home, snapped the gun closed, and was ready to fire again in mere seconds.

  “A fox,” said Miranda. “Do you think you got him?”

  “I got close.” Ron puffed up and stood as tall as his bare feet would allow. Seeing him without a shirt or shoes, wearing only a pair of running shorts, Miranda was surprised at how fit he was and how he owned a rugged handsomeness.

  “Where’s your ankle boot? You shouldn’t be walking around without it, let alone hunting.” Miranda felt the irritation creep into her voice so she softened her tone. “You need to be careful not to stress that injured foot.”

  “I jes’ forgot. I wanted to get that varmint.”

  “You missed by a mile,” said Austin. “Which is lucky for you. Hunting season for red fox doesn’t start until Monday.”

  “But I was protecting the chickens.” Ron frowned. “You wouldn’t have me just stand by and let her chickens get took?”

  “What’s going on out here? What idiot fired a shotgun this close to the house?” Dorothy stormed out of the house and stood in front of Ron with her hands on her hips. “You know better than to try and shoot at a fox. They’re too smart.”

  “I’m glad you missed,” said Miranda. “She might have a litter of kits to feed.”

  “Right, but if they were born this spring, they should be independent by now.” Austin looked at the fencing around the coop. “This is a well-built coop, but you can use another deterrent.”

  “What?” said both Dorothy and Miranda.

  “Let Sandy piss back here. Nothing is better than a strong dog scent to cause a fox to search for easier prey. It works for bobcats as well.”

  Sandy immediately demonstrated his willingness to protect the chickens by lifting his little leg against the fence.

  Miranda scooped up the little puppy and handed him to her mother. “Okay. Show’s over. Austin and I need to get back to our web searches.”

  Austin started off for the house in a sprint. “My turn to drive.” Miranda chased after him but wasn’t able to get in front in time. He plopped into the computer chair in triumph as if he had won an Olympic race.

  “Funny.” Miranda made a face at him. “But actually, a good idea. No two people word their searches exactly alike. We’ll get a broader set of results by taking turns.”

  “You’re just making up excuses for not beating me.”

  She smiled. “Type. You won the opportunity to type.”

  He wiggled in the chair a bit and began a new search string. “I’m going to try for Benjamin George DeBerg.” He typed using his two forefingers for the keys and his right thumb for the space bar.

  “You can’t type.” Miranda covered her mouth and laughed behind her hand.

  “Yes, I can. I just don’t use all my fingers. I’m pretty fast.”

  Miranda watched him tap the information into the search engine with dogged deliberateness. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize. I learned how to type as soon as the classes were offered in high school. My mother wanted me to become an executive secretary. She was convinced that was the best job in the world.”

  Austin tapped the Enter key with a flourish and they peered at the results. “It confirms that he lives in Washington, DC, all right.”

  Miranda pointed to another entry farther down the screen. “Also, that the co-owner is his mother, Margaret DeBerg.”

  They both leaned back and looked at each other.

  “That must be weird to work for your mother.” Miranda looked up at the ceiling where her mother had gone up to turn in for the night. “I’m not sure if I could do that.” She inhaled quickly. “I’m hoping I don’t
find out.”

  “Why? What’s up?”

  Miranda waved the thought away. “Nothing. Probably overthinking things.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re worried that she might stay.”

  “Bingo.” Miranda looked back at the screen. “It looks like he specialized in criminal cases involving the LGBTQ-plus community.”

  Austin sat up straight. “That’s a surprise. He didn’t strike me as being particularly tolerant to diversity.” He turned to Miranda. “You?”

  “I didn’t think about it. We didn’t talk much during the hike, and then, of course, Jennifer scraped her hand on Howard’s bones not too long after we started sketching.” Miranda rubbed the back of her neck. “I wonder if there’s more to his specialty than a niche business decision.”

  Austin frowned. “You mean he might have personal experience?”

  “Right.” She pointed to another search result. “Look at this. Ben’s highest-profile case involved a transgender employee who was fired from a famous Fifth Avenue luxury retail store. The clerk says she was belittled by coworkers, forced to use the men’s room, and repeatedly referred to by the pronouns he and him before being fired.”

  Austin pointed to another search result. “Here’s another case involving a funeral home who fired an employee from her position as a funeral director two weeks after she disclosed plans to return from her vacation as a woman.”

  “Let me try one more search.” Miranda tapped the keys in a flurry. “This settles it. Most of his cases involve issues around LGBTQ-plus issues.”

  Austin leaned in to read the screen. “Most of them are transgender lawsuits.”

  “Do you think there’s a more personal reason?”

  Austin leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “It could be that these cases are in the news right now and he’s taking advantage of the publicity.”

  “This is a well-established firm that his mother started years ago. It doesn’t seem like they need a lot of publicity.”

  “What if Ben is transgender, but not out in public?”

  “Give me the murder book. Let me have a go at his sketch.” Miranda took the notebook and grabbed an eraser along with a drawing pencil. She rubbed out a few lines and modified Ben’s features with a few deft strokes. “Look.”

  Austin took the notebook and shook his head. “That’s amazing. He looks like a lovely woman. How do you think this relates to Howard?”

  “Five years ago, a transgender lawyer would have great difficulty attracting clients. It isn’t such a rare occurrence now. But the DC area has always been hypercritical. A firm with a transgender partner would suffer.”

  “Maybe Howard knew from college that Ben might be trans and then used that information to get Ben to give him leverage with the legislature for his oil company. That sounds ridiculous.” Austin put his hands on his thighs and stood. “I’m out of ideas. We should get some rest.”

  “Good idea.” Miranda suppressed a yawn. “I’m going to finish making some jelly-sandwich cookies for Doris Ann. She will definitely have an opinion about the Risky Business Adventurers that are from this area.” Miranda got up from the desk chair and stretched her back. “Look, let’s pick this up tomorrow. If I get any more ideas, I’ll let you know out on the trail.”

  She walked Austin out to the front porch. “See you tomorrow.”

  He leaned in, kissed her on the cheek, then disappeared into the darkness.

  Miranda stood completely still, letting the warmth wash over her.

  Chapter 27

  Saturday Morning, Hemlock Lodge

  Miranda arrived early at Hemlock Lodge holding a pottery jar full of her jelly cookies. She held the jar in front of her and caught the eye of Doris Ann, who was sketching lines on a map for a guest. As soon as she was free, Doris Ann said, “Is that for me?”

  “Who else?”

  “What kind are they? Gingerbread?”

  “No.”

  “Lemon squares?”

  “Nope.”

  “Potato pinwheels?”

  “Guess again.”

  “Jelly cookies?”

  “Yes.” Miranda placed the jar on Doris Ann’s desk. “Mom made the cookies and I helped with the assembly.”

  Doris Ann opened the jar and took out a cookie and popped it into her mouth. She leaned back her head in joy. “Just as good as ever. Your mama is an amazing cook.”

  “It’s good to have her here.”

  “Do you think she’s gonna stay?” Doris Ann gobbled up another cookie and put the jar in her desk drawer.

  Miranda squinted. “I don’t really know. It’s clear she’s going to support Aunt Ora until Howard’s death is cleared up and he’s had his funeral. Anything beyond—I just don’t know.”

  “I’m sure she’s a big help right now.”

  “Yes. By the way, I’ve got a list here of that group that was with me up above the Indian Staircase on Sunday. Do you know any of them?” Miranda showed Doris Ann the list from her murder notebook.

  Doris Ann squinted her eyes but refused to get out her reading glasses. “I remember them pretty well. They were a high-voltage kind of group. Remind me who they are. I should be able to recognize their names.”

  “Alfred Whittaker, Ben DeBerg, Kevin Burkart, Jennifer O’Rourke, Kurt Smith, and Stephanie Brinkley.”

  “That’s them all right; two of them are from Stanton. That’s Jennifer and Kevin. Jennifer has a gift for jewelry design. She makes her pieces from local silver. When she went off to university, we didn’t really expect her back. She’s famous, you know.”

  “Really? Tell me how.”

  “She was so talented that she got her master’s in fine arts in record time and had employment offers from some famous jewelry designers like Tiffany’s, Cartier, and even Chanel. But she’s a real country girl, and there’s even a tale that she turned down a marriage proposal because she wanted to stay near her large family over in Stanton.”

  “What about Kevin Burkart?”

  “Oh, that’s a different kettle of fish.” Doris Ann shifted in her office chair. “He’s always been a bit of a bad boy. Grew up in Stanton same as Jennifer, but quite a different type.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, definitely not what you could call settled. He moved down to Florida to start a financial business managing other people’s money. He comes back to hunt and fish here quite a lot but doesn’t stay with family.”

  “That’s unusual. My family would be highly insulted if I didn’t stay with them. It’s a given. That’s what you do.”

  “No idea why that has happened. I haven’t heard anything, which might not mean anything at all.”

  Miranda noticed a group had gathered in front of the tall fireplace in the lobby. “Okay. It looks like my clients have arrived. If you think of anything else, give me a call.” She turned to join today’s adventurers.

  When she had them settled into painting the view at Lover’s Leap, she spied Austin coming up the trail. His lecture was as entertaining as usual. After he finished, he and Miranda retreated to chat behind the students just out of their hearing.

  Austin folded his arms and spoke in low tones. “I caught up with Doris Ann on what she told you about Jennifer O’Rourke and Kevin Burkart. I’m a stranger in Stanton, so I didn’t know either of them. By the way, those cookies are incredible. I had to beg; she’s like a hoarder with them. You should package them up and sell them in the gift shop.”

  Miranda whispered, “Thanks, I’ll tell Mom.”

  “I did have a few minutes to look into Kevin’s business down in Florida. It seems he’s always had a gift for making money make money. He moved down there right after graduation and started small with a lucky set of customers. He has been successful enough to buy a historic home to use as his office complex. He also owns a luxurious waterfront home in an exclusive neighborhood. His kids attend an expensive private school, and he posts pictures of his African big-game trips. Quite the character.”


  “He’s not that guy that shot the famous lion, is he?” Miranda scanned her group. Everyone was happily making good progress on their paintings.

  “No, that was a dentist, but I think he would be capable of it.” Austin looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to headquarters for a meeting. By the way, Kevin bought a small ranch in central Florida near Ocala that boards horses almost exactly five years ago. They’re a huge expense, but he would have contacts in Lexington for expertise. He’s also been returning to the Daniel Boone National Forest to hunt turkey, deer, and elk for his trophy wall.”

  Miranda shook her head from side to side. “None of this sounds suspicious. He seems like an average businessman from Kentucky who has had a great run of financial luck.” She crinkled her brow. “Unless all that apparent wealth is a front. He could be in serious debt. His financial genius might not work for him.”

  “I’ll ask some of the other rangers about him at the meeting. If he’s been hunting around here for years, one or more of them must know him. My patch isn’t the best area for bagging your limits.”

  He waved and took off down the trail.

  Miranda sighed and watched him until he disappeared around the first bend. So far, they hadn’t even made enough progress to tell the sheriff. She felt frustrated and disappointed. Maybe she should leave this to the professionals.

  Chapter 28

  Late Saturday Morning, Hemlock Lodge

  Miranda said goodbye to her tour clients in the lobby. They had signed up for a mountain-view painting class only. She turned to make her way back to her van.

  “Miranda,” called out Doris Ann from her reception desk. “Miranda, there’s something that I’ve remembered.”

  “Remembered?” Miranda turned back and stood in front of Doris Ann’s desk.

  “Yes, you were asking about the time that Howard Cable disappeared. I’ve remembered that Jennifer O’Rourke and Howard were spending quite a bit of time together. They had been skulking around for a few months. I think they were getting close to announcing their engagement.”