by Chris Seaton
Bernice didn't even bother to retort. She was feeling too guilty. She just walked back out of the greenhouse, crestfallen.
Darlene groused, marching after her. “Besides, planting them now is like giving them a death sentence in this heat. You never plant roses in the summer. Everyone knows that.”
Agent Wyatt stopped abruptly as he exited his vehicle at CL's Storage. He found himself looking down at Bernice's tire tracks. He wanted to smile but couldn't make himself do it. His face simply went blank and he proceeded in the direction of the yellow tape.
County Investigator Lyle Brigand walked out to meet him. Slightly overweight and balding, his mustache decided to stay in the 1980s while the rest of him continued to age.
If he noticed Agent Wyatt fixating on the combination lock in the next storage unit over, he chose not to comment. Instead, he cut to the chase. “We got part of the crime scene in here.”
Agent Wyatt followed Lyle into the unit, now almost completely empty. Most of the items including the sports car had been removed and relocated to the garage at the county office. All that remained was a square freezer. Its lid was propped open for his perusal. There was a definite odor permeating from the inside. Agent Wyatt snapped on his gloves and took a look.
“Blood pooled in the bottom matches the victim's type. An exact DNA match'll take a few days.”
Agent Wyatt looked at the dimensions of the freezer. It was smaller than he expected. “Is it even possible for a grown man to fit in here?” He was having his doubts.
Lyle peeked inside and made his matter-of-fact judgment. “I suppose if you cut him up enough.”
Agent Wyatt chose not to comment. Instead, he looked the freezer over. “No way a sports car is going to haul a freezer, even a small one.” He bent down and looked around to the back where the plug lay. “There's no juice in these units so how did it get here?”
Lyle scrunched up his mouth while he was thinking and walked back outside. He looked around the ground. “Well, the only tracks here are from the car.” He went out a bit in front of the unit, looking in either direction. “There are tire tracks up the road over there...”
Agent Wyatt halted him. “Those are from the citizen who called in the car tracks.” Lyle gave him a queer look, so he added, “I already had her checked out. She's clean.”
The queer look continued for a moment then Lyle relented, not interested enough to delve anymore. “It's probably a matter of the freezer being transported here by another vehicle.”
Agent Wyatt continued his train of thought, gesturing at the opening of the unit. “The killer drives the freezer here in another vehicle, drops it off in the unit and uses the car to dump the body.” He turned his attention to the tracks, confused. “So, why not cover up the car tracks too?” He looked to Lyle for a second opinion.
“Well, maybe they figured the body would never be found, so why bother?”
“If that's the case, why mess with the other vehicle tracks then?”
Lyle seemed to be stumped on that one. “You got me there, Chief,” he remarked and gazed down at the tracks in question along with him. “Seems kinda short sighted, you ask me.”
Agent Wyatt chewed on that conclusion all the way back to the Sheriff's office. He hoped the trace on the car would prove less perplexing.
He was wrong. Lyle's counterpart, the ambitious and pretty Investigator Jenny Greebler, met him at the doorway. She handed him the regulation clipboard and waited quietly.
He looked at the board and asked, “Well?”
“Mel says you're just going to read it again anyway, so I just figured I'd wait until you found something you had a question on,” she informed him simply.
Agent Wyatt regarded her blatant disregard for protocol for just a scant moment before relenting with a smile. “Fair enough,” he replied gruffly and walked with the clipboard the rest of the way to the car, Jenny in tow.
All the doors and trunk were open. The car had been parked on a large tarp. The other items from the storage unit were sitting on a couple of folding tables.
Agent Wyatt engaged in his usual habit of scanning the entire contents of the clipboard once then starting from the beginning again. “So no identifiable prints of any kind on the car?”
“None,” was Jenny's succinct answer.
“Traces of blood in the trunk?” Agent Wyatt flipped to the next page.
“They match the type from the freezer.” She smiled a little realizing that Melonie was spot-on about him.
“But lots of other trace on the interior of the car?”
“Yes,” Jenny confirmed. “Sand on the floor of the driver's seat and long red hairs all over the upholstery.”
Agent Wyatt looked up from the clip board and focused on the car. He let his eyes run the length of it and back again. They stopped as a thought occurred to him. “Where are the contents to the glove box and console?”
“Oh,” Jenny blanched a little then. “Sorry, I'm still processing that.” She pointed to a door leading into another room. “I've got that in our lab area. I was checking the receipts for prints.”
Agent Wyatt stopped and faced her. His face was blank. “What receipts?”
She was about to answer when the garage door opened. Lyle waved them aside as he drove his large SUV in. The compact freezer was sitting in the back.
Without looking in her direction, Agent Wyatt ordered, “If you took photos of those receipts, I want to see them right away.” He walked to Lyle, effectively leaving Jenny to stand and observe her abrupt dismissal. She huffed and stalked off.
Lyle was opening up the back of his vehicle by the time Agent Wyatt came over. He observed the freezer, wondering out loud, “was it heavy?”
Lyle leaned against the tail light. “It wasn't too bad,” he answered, smirking. “Of course, it's empty, now.”
Agent Wyatt didn't smirk back. “For being five years old, it looks brand-spankin' new.”
“Yep,” was Lyle's confirmation before he morbidly added, “clean the blood out of the bottom, you could fetch a good price for it on Craig's List.”
The nice thing about living on a farm, even a small time one like Lollygagger's Acres, was there was never a lack of distractions. It was one of the reasons Bernice chose to make it her home. It was an ideal place to take a voluntary leave of absence from the rest of the world.
After the strawberries had been picked clean it was time to clean out the lettuce and spinach patches again. They had been neglected in all the excitement and were starting to bolt. So Bernice gave them a military style trimming, cutting them down to the nub.
After sifting out the prize leaves for human consumption she threw the remainder around the barnyard to be devoured by the chickens, ducks, and goats. She saved the bolted stems for a wander over to greet Phyllis.
Phyllis was hanging out in her usual spot in the shade of the big willow. Bernice smiled as she watched the caramel coated beauty with the unfortunate overbite use her gigantic tongue to pull the stems into her mouth. Bernice affectionately scratched the crew cut between her ears and laid her head against Phyllis' neck.
She understood the donkey, her stubborn streak, the sense of independence, the need to separate herself and watch the goings on from a safe distance. As Bernice continued to give the animal a good scratching, working her way down the neck and under the chin, she wondered if Phyllis ever felt lonely.
Bernice did. She had to acknowledge it for the first time in a long time. As she looked around she had the uneasy feeling that comes with facing reality. Things were starting to change, and the reasons were because of Herb.
After finding his head in Jarvis' barn, there was no going back for her or any of them. Darlene was in love with Cameron. Bernice and Roger were no longer together. Agent Wyatt... Bernice scrunched her eyes and shook her head like she was trying to remove an invisible insect. Phyllis snorted at the sudden movement and pulled away.
Bernice didn't really know what to do about Agent Wyatt.
Having to think in those terms messed with her comfort zone. Whatever they had was exciting, unpredictable; the sex was fantastic, sometimes tender, sometimes just plain carnal.
Anything beyond that was complicated. He had a different life in civilized society where people wore suits every day and ate with judges. She wore stained clothes and touched various kinds of poo on a regular basis. There was just no easy way to compromise those two worlds.
And she didn't want to go back to his world. She liked it there under the willow tree and hanging out with the donkey.
She reflected on the rest of the farm as she walked toward the house with the greens. When she had first arrived there after Mila's murder, she spent the first couple of months just licking her wounds. Eventually, the bellyaching period wore off, and Bernice shifted her ambitious nature from TV reporting to micro farming. Darlene was not easy to convince. It was a constant battle of wearing her down to make the least little change in that first year.
After dealing with dairy cows her entire life Darlene was in no hurry to tie herself down with goats. But Bernice berated her like a power attorney at trial, tossing down research and dragging her to goat farms until finally Darlene relented if only to be left alone. It was the same with the berries and the apple orchard and the ducks. Bernice fought for them all, tooth and nail. Now she couldn't imagine the place without them.
And Bernice wasn't done. She thought about getting feeder pigs next year. She was considering schlepping their produce to chefs in the Cities and seeing if she could get some steady accounts going. There was still so much to do.
How did Agent Wyatt fit into those plans?
Against her will her mind fixated on the one problem she wanted to avoid that day. When she was presented with his handsome face waiting for her on the porch steps, she knew there would be no peace. Life was going to change, like it or not.
Chapter 22
“Congratulations, you found the freezer.” Agent Wyatt's face showed no signs of actually being happy about the compliment. It was residing in its usual state of blankness.
Bernice returned the same face in kind. “Was that the thing under the sheet next to the car?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” She washed the greens quickly, running the outside hose through the plastic colander.
The lack of facial expressions or any discernible conversation was ridiculous and evasive. They were both avoiding the same un-winnable argument. It was just a matter of who was going to face it first.
It wasn't going to be Agent Wyatt. He decided to use the tactic of distraction instead. He picked up the folder from the porch. “I have copies of receipts found in the car if you wanna take a gander.”
Bernice perked up. “Actually, I would.” She set the colander on a nearby stump to drain off the excess water and took up residence on the step next to him.
He dutifully pulled out the printed copies taken from the digital camera and handed them over. “I figured you could identify the names of some of these businesses quicker than I can look them up or make monotonous phone calls.”
She nodded, scanning them. “The ones from Chuck's Car Star are probably for gas. They're all in the morning for about the same amount.” She returned those two pages for confirmation.
“Okay, that makes sense,” he agreed. “What about these low budget purchases for a place called Night Light. That some sort of a bar Jessica frequented during Happy Hour?”
Bernice giggled, causing him to frown at her. “Actually, it's a video rental store.” She shook her head. “Guess Jessica's life was not as glamorous as we would like to think.”
Agent Wyatt fanned out the three remaining sheets, presenting them to her. “Any of these look like receipts for an appliance or home improvement store?”
She carefully skimmed over the remaining receipts but solemnly shook her head. “Just the grocery store, couple of take-out joints, and an ATM receipt.” Bernice flipped back through all the sheets again, mentioning, “you notice when all these purchases took place?”
He nodded. “'04 and '05.”
“Right, they stop in July of '05.”
Agent Wyatt collected the pictures and let out a heavy sigh as he placed the sheets back into his folder. Standing, he concluded, “Well, no luck there then.” He looked back at his car.
Bernice interpreted the body language. “You gonna stay for supper?”
He turned his attention, studying her. “You want me to?”
Bernice twisted her neck to gaze into the house from her seat on the step. “Cameron and Darlene would be disappointed if you came over and didn't stay and eat.” She didn't look at him, afraid of the scrutiny she was getting in return.
“Would you be disappointed?” he inquired softly.
She couldn't hide her trepidation. “I'd be guilt-ridden if you left because you're upset with me.”
Agent Wyatt let out an exasperated breath, rubbing his hand harshly over his features. “I'm not upset with you,” he corrected with a slight growl, “but you seemed to be upset with me, and I don't know why.”
Bernice folded her arms protectively around her kneecaps. “It's just we've started this-this... thing, and it wasn't very well...thought through.” She hunched over, examining her shoes. “I feel like it's going to end messy and I'm not looking forward it.” Bernice glowered at her beat up Birkenstocks and waited for comment. Instead, she heard the door open behind her.
Darlene's voice increased exponentially in pitch and volume at the sight of Agent Wyatt. “You weren't leaving were you, Agent Wyatt?” She mentally burned a hole in the top of Bernice's turned-down head. “Why, Cameron would just be sick if you came all the way out here and didn't even sample his barbequed duck.”
“So, where'd you learn to cook?” Agent Wyatt carefully carved the glistening duck on his plate and made polite conversation. Between Bernice's mental removal from the table and Darlene's' overzealous attention to him, Cameron was turning out to be a refuge during the awkward meal.
“My mother, actually.” Cameron answered with a wistful expression as he helped himself to the salad Bernice contributed to supper. “We didn't have a whole lot growing up, so instead of going out or buying things, our family would cook together. My mother learned from her mother and she taught my sisters and me.”
“You grew up in a house full of women? I didn't know that.” Bernice roused herself from her bad mood to make comment.
“Explains your infinite amount of patience.” Agent Wyatt's well targeted remark silenced Bernice again. She seemed to withdraw into her chair.
Cameron smiled at Bernice and Darlene. “Being sequestered out in the country with two beautiful women is no big loss, my friend.” He winked at Darlene, lifting his glass of milk. “You should try it sometime,” he advised before taking a long drink.
Any retort was replaced with the noise of eating. Darlene delicately wiped sauce from her face before leaning in and asking Agent Wyatt, “Is it okay for me to ask if there's any more progress in your case against that Jessica lady?”
Agent Wyatt simply glanced at her with a thoughtful expression as he chewed.
Bernice spoke up in Darlene's defense. “You might want you put Darlene's fears to rest before she hires a militia to guard the house.”
Darlene shot her a look that was less than thankful. “I have a right to defend my property.”
Agent Wyatt raised his eyebrows in slight alarm. He swallowed a drink of milk before revealing, “It looks like we found the person who was trespassing on your property. He's in custody pending arraignment for other offenses, so you probably don't have to worry about any further intrusions.”
“And the freezer?” Darlene blurted out.
Agent Wyatt set his glass down carefully and leveled a suspicious gaze at Bernice. She raised her hands in defense. “Marsha's sister works in dispatch at the Sheriff's office. I didn't say a word.”
Darlene watched her plate guiltily. “I'm sure she only told Marsha.”
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Cameron broke the tension. “There's fresh strawberry pie in the fridge if anyone's interested.” Without encouragement he got up anyway and left the table.
After several painful moments of silence Darlene gained enough courage to point out, “It was a smaller freezer; the kind a single lady might have for her kitchen?”
Agent Wyatt nodded then let out a breath of surrender. “And it was in perfect shape on the outside, like it was brand new.”
“Was there anything unusual about the brand, or any discernible markings that might give you some clues?” Bernice asked quietly, pushing her greens around her plate.
“No, it was just the typical Amana freezer.” He stabbed dejectedly at his last piece of duck, working it into his spicy fried rice. “You can pick it up at a dozen different locations around here.”
Cameron returned to the table with a glass pie dish and a mixing bowl of stiff whipped cream. Just as he was setting the dishes down, Darlene stood up suddenly and just about knocked him over. They all watched as Cameron attempted to right himself, and Darlene attempted to keep the condensation-covered dishes from escaping his grasp to break on the linoleum.
The chaos subsided with dessert intact. Cameron glowered at a thoroughly embarrassed Darlene. Then he smiled and started chuckling. “Hon, you take the cake, but leave the pie to me, will ya?”
“I'm so sorry, it's just-” She stopped and faced Bernice and Agent Wyatt. “I remembered something.”
Bernice asked, “What is it?”
“Well, that freezer is supposedly five years old, right?”
“That's correct.” Agent Wyatt conceded.
“Well, five years ago there weren't any big warehouse stores around here where you could buy appliances. Then, there were only a couple of places, and only one of them sold Amanas.”
“You don't have to do this.” Agent Wyatt pulled the visor down to compete with the slowly setting sun that was shining directly through the windshield. His regulation cop-style sunglasses offered little relief from the constant onslaught of bright light.