The cautious, docile lifestyle just wasn't me, but a cup of coffee always sounded good. No one else was awake yet, and the house sounded eerily quiet. I could hear the clock ticking on the fireplace mantel in the living room and it was grating on my nerves. So I poured myself a cup of java and went out on the porch to drink it while I read through the morning paper. An article on the front page caught my eye.
"Slain College Student Put to Rest," was the headline. A large picture beside the article showed a crowd of mourners gathered around the gravesite in the cemetery. I could see Wyatt, Stone, and me, standing together in the center of the photo. Stone had his left arm draped across my shoulders.
Everybody's head was bowed in prayer in the photo, except for one young man who was looking straight ahead, staring right at me. Why? I wondered. Who was that young man? I didn't recall seeing him at the funeral, but he obviously had been there. Maybe Stone would remember him. Did he just happen to look up and glance my way the second the photographer snapped the photo, or was he studying me for some reason? He wore an intent expression and a stiff posture.
The article rehashed the details of Walter's death, stating no one was being detained at this time on suspicion of murder, but that the investigation was ongoing. It went on to say a hair had been found on the shirt of the victim, which was nearly black, not red like Walter's. DNA tests indicated the hair didn't belong to Walter or anyone related to him. They couldn't be sure the hair wasn't deposited on Walter before he even arrived for work at the Alexandria Inn, but it was the only piece of potential evidence found at the scene that could be DNA-tested. It didn't match any records on any criminal databases either. No one had been actually ruled out, but the hair did swing the pendulum somewhat toward an unrelated perpetrator, the article said.
I found this new discovery interesting. I wondered why Wyatt hadn't told me about it. I also wondered if they shouldn't do DNA testing on Wendy and me. We'd helped Walter into his costume before he climbed into the coffin. We could have dropped a hair on him as easily as anyone. I would mention it to Detective Johnston the next time I saw him. Roxie Kane could have left the hair also. She admitted to being in the parlor with him just a short time after he'd been chloroformed and injected with the insulin. Like Paula Browne, her hair was much darker than the rest of the cheerleaders'.
Before long, Stone joined me out on the porch with his own cup of coffee. I left him with the article to read while I went inside for a refill. He agreed the hair could very likely be from Wendy's head, Roxie's, or even mine. Wendy's hair was fairly dark naturally. Mine had been about every color the beauty salon offered from being dyed and highlighted every three months. I could no longer even recall what my natural color was, because it had been so long since I'd seen it.
Stone didn't recognize the young man in the photo who was peering at me while the rest of us had our heads bowed. If he remembered to do so, he'd ask Wyatt if he recognized him. I thought I could ask Joey if I got an opportunity to speak with him. Joey would be in the same age bracket as the guy in the photo.
By eight o'clock, everyone was down in the kitchen eating breakfast. I served corned beef hash, eggs scrambled with onions, green peppers, and jalapenos, fried potatoes, and sourdough toast. Wendy, who's thin as a rail anyway, ate practically nothing. I think she was too nervous to eat. Andy, on the other hand, ate like it was the last meal before his execution.
I gave Steve and Eleanor Dudley a key to the front door so they could come and go as they pleased while the four of us were gone. At a quarter to ten, we piled into Wendy's car and headed to the realtor's office.
* * *
A short time later we followed the realtor through the front gates of the property. Over the entrance hung a wooden sign with "T-n-T Ranch" burnt into it. We drove down the long driveway and parked behind a shiny John Deere tractor next to a pole barn. The realtor introduced us to the Olsens, Tom and Tessa. They were a friendly couple, probably in their early eighties.
It was clear the elderly couple desperately needed to sell this place and get settled into an assisted-living facility as soon as possible. They were willing to let the place go for well under its appraised value to make it happen while they were still healthy enough to make the move. As it was, they were both terribly frail. I don't know how the two of them kept up with all the responsibilities of taking care of the livestock and the property. Perhaps they had sons who assisted them, or even hired hands. I didn't want to ask and infer they were too old to handle the chores that maintaining the ranch entailed.
After a few minutes of visiting, the realtor took us on a tour of the place. The house was in better shape than any of us had anticipated. We followed her from room to room.
"This old house wouldn't take all that much to remodel and bring up to snuff," Stone whispered. "I would love to help you, Andy, if you decide to purchase it."
"Thanks, Uncle Stone," Andy whispered back. "It's not nearly as run-down as I expected either. It's cosmetic work it needs, more than structural. New appliances, new flooring, a good paint job, and some furniture and light fixtures that weren't purchased at Sears in the 1940s, and this place would shine like a new penny."
"I think it's very homey and comfortable," Wendy said. "I love the rock fireplace in the family room and the walk-in pantry off the kitchen. How many bedrooms does it have again?"
"Four," the realtor said. "It also has the sewing room that could be turned into a nice office or another bedroom, if a fifth one is needed."
"It only has the one bathroom though, doesn't it?" Andy asked. The realtor reluctantly nodded, and Andy continued. "The bathroom only has the old antique, claw-footed tub. I'd like to keep it for nostalgic reasons, but adding another, more modern, bathroom off the master bedroom with a large tiled shower would be my first priority."
I knew Wendy was wondering if the house had enough bedrooms to accommodate a family. She wanted two or three children, at the very least. I didn't know how Andy felt about having children, or even getting married. He was thirty-three years old and hadn't had a serious relationship with a woman yet, according to Stone. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to be burdened with a wife and children. Settling down with a family might be his last concern. I was certain he'd want to get the ranch going strong before making another life-altering change in his lifestyle.
Stone nodded at Andy's remark about adding a bathroom. "That wouldn't be hard to do. I think the house is definitely acceptable. Let's go have a look at the outbuildings, the livestock, and the land."
Andy agreed, and the four of us followed the agent and the sellers outside. After a brief inspection of the exterior of the house, the roof, and foundation, all of which appeared to be in reasonable condition, we continued on.
Some of the outbuildings were in need of immediate repair. The roof on the chicken coop was about to fall in on the chickens. The toolshed needed to be burnt down and rebuilt. Fortunately, the barn was in pretty good shape. It looked like it had been an addition in recent years.
The Black Angus cattle we saw looked healthy and robust, as did the poultry and the swine. There was a new litter of piglets we all thought were adorable. Even the golden retriever, Sallie, had a shiny coat and a friendly demeanor. She bonded with Andy almost instantly, as if she knew it was in her best interest to befriend him. Sallie walked around with us as we toured the property. The realtor told us Sallie was three years old, and had been spayed. She was certainly friendly and would make a great guard dog and companion for Andy.
The 640 acres were divided and fenced off into four separate areas, so the herd could be moved from section to section. The pasture the cattle were currently in was pretty barren. These cattle needed to be moved to one of the other sections, all of which had more vegetation to graze on.
There was a good-sized pond, or farm tank, in each pasture for watering the cattle. A larger pond, which was located directly behind the house, was stocked with crappie, bass, and catfish, and was fed by a natural spring, Tess
a, the rancher's wife, told us.
"What do you think, Stone?" Andy asked.
"I don't see any drawbacks at all, to tell you the truth," Stone said. "The land and livestock have been well taken care of, as has the old farmhouse. But this would be a far different kind of life than the one you lead back east. Are you sure it's what you want to do?"
"It's what I've always wanted to do, Uncle Stone," Andy said. "I know it will be a big change for me, but I also know it will be a welcome one. I'm not content with the lifestyle I currently have. I'm bored and restless and anxious to make a drastic change at this stage of my life. What do you think of this place, Lexie?"
"I think it's wonderful, Andy," I said sincerely. "The property is beautiful."
"How about you, Wendy? What do you think of the ranch?"
"I think it's only lacking two things, Andy," she said.
"What's that?" Andy asked, with a puzzled expression.
"You and a couple of horses."
Andy laughed. "Yes, I'd most definitely need a couple of horses. I'm surprised there aren't any here already. I've only ridden a horse three or four times in my life, but I'm sure I could learn to ride sufficiently."
Back at the house, we found out there had previously been four horses on the property, but they'd been sold when the old couple got too old to ride and take care of them properly. Horses tended to need a lot more attention than cattle.
Knowing he had a lot to learn about ranching, Andy agreed to come out to the farm the following day and help move the cattle to another pasture. He'd do all the work as the old rancher instructed him. He also had a lot of questions to ask Tom Olsen about raising hogs, cattle, goats, and chickens. He'd never even driven a tractor, he admitted. The John Deere looked brand new, and the two goats on the back porch looked feisty and ornery. We steered clear of them as we headed back toward the car in the driveway.
Andy wanted to spend some time on the ranch before he made a final decision. But I could tell the decision had already been made. Andy was infatuated with the place. He couldn't stop smiling as he looked out over the property, petting Sallie on the head all the while.
We thanked the Olsens and the realtor and headed back to Rockdale. Stone and Andy discussed the pros and cons of purchasing the property. Andy was concerned about Andy trying to take care of 640 acres, a full section of land.
"That's a lot of land and livestock there to maintain," he said.
"I know, Uncle Stone," Andy said. "But the Olsens have fifty years on me. If they can handle it, surely with a little training and experience, I can handle it too. If it all becomes too much, I can hire some help."
"I have no doubt you could handle anything you set your mind to," Stone agreed. "I'm anxious to hear what you think after you spend a day out there with Tom tomorrow. And I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I just want you to take everything into consideration before you make a final decision. You know how badly I'd like to have you living near me. Still, your happiness in my prime concern."
We stopped for lunch in Atchison, and were fairly silent for the remainder of the drive back to the inn. We were all lost in our own thoughts. I was wondering how I could sneak off to run back out to Chuck's mobile home west of town. Something didn't feel right about his relationship with his younger half-brother. It was something I thought needed additional attention. The detectives apparently were satisfied with his story, but I wasn't.
Chapter 18
Steve and Eleanor Dudley were out when we got back, so Stone used his key to open the front door. Wendy and Andy disappeared to their rooms to freshen up, and Stone joined me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I had round steak simmering in a mushroom gravy, cooking slowly in the Crock-Pot, and was looking through my Betty Crocker Cookbook for something to fix for Eleanor.
"What are you feeding the pain-in-the-ass tonight?" Stone asked. He actually liked both of the Dudleys, but knew cooking for Eleanor was creating extra work for me.
"Here's a recipe for a cheese and spinach quiche that sounds pretty good, and is also easy to prepare. How does that sound?"
"Not as good as beef, but I'm sure Eleanor will appreciate it. I'm certainly glad she'll bend enough to eat eggs," he said.
"I'll serve turnip greens and dinner rolls with it, and I'll whip up some cherry cobbler for dessert," I said. "Right after I have another cup of coffee."
"You're the best," Stone said. "Even though I have no idea how you sleep at night, considering the amount of caffeine in your system."
"I manage," I said. "I think by now I'm immune to caffeine."
"You'd have to be." He leaned over and kissed me on top of the head as he stood up to answer the knocking at the back door. "I'll let you get back to your quiche."
I don't know how, but the mere mention of food brought Wyatt to our doorstep. Real men may not eat quiche, but I was willing to bet Wyatt was the exception to the rule. It was his day off so he wasn't in uniform. He looked nice in his creased khakis and navy blue polo shirt.
I invited Wyatt to supper, but, as it turned out, Wendy had already invited him and Veronica out to eat with her and Andy. Andy had met Wyatt on a couple of occasions while visiting us in the past year. They'd always gotten along well and had become friends in the process.
"I'm here to pick up Andy and Wendy," he said. "We decided to take in a show before supper. It's kind of a chick-flick, but Andy and I decided we could tough it out since both of the gals have been wanting to see it."
"That's mighty considerate of you boys," I said.
"Well, frankly, we'd both prefer something with a little more blood and guts, but maybe it'll at least have a car chase in it," Wyatt said. "Speaking of which, I was involved in one myself last night."
"What happened?" Stone asked Wyatt, as he poured the detective a cup of coffee. "Was it right here in Rockdale?"
"Yes. Downtown on Main Street, in fact. It ended when the young man crashed into a street sign in front of the hardware store. I pulled him out of the car, verified he wasn't injured, and proceeded to cuff him and stuff him. It was pretty cool."
"Anybody we know?" I asked. It was obvious this was the kind of police work Wyatt lived for. Writing out tickets for people parking in handicapped parking stalls was not Wyatt's cup of tea. "It sounds like you really enjoyed yourself."
"You guys wouldn't know him. He's not from around here. He was just a dumb punk who tried to grab the purse of a lady walking out of the post office. She made a ruckus and fought him off. A passerby called the police station, and we were on him before he could get out of town," Wyatt explained. "I've been on the force for fifteen years and have never had to draw my gun. We need a little action occasionally to keep the job interesting. That doesn't happen very often in a place like Rockdale. Pulling over speeders with marijuana in their glove compartments is about as exciting as it gets here."
Rockdale's low crime rate apparently didn't appeal a whole lot to Wyatt, who was paid to serve and protect the citizens of this sleepy little town. No wonder he hung out at the Alexandria Inn. This is where most of the major crimes in Rockdale seem to take place. It wasn't a cheery thought, especially when the low crime rate was one of the things that drew Stone to this town when he first purchased the old mansion to restore.
While Wyatt waited for Wendy and Andy to come downstairs, he, Stone, and I discussed the weather, the price of gasoline, the new mayor, and ice fishing. Finally, after listening to all the attributes of the latest ice auger on the market, I asked Wyatt if there were any new developments in the murder case.
"Not too many," he said. "Clarence and Melba have both been cleared, which is not to say something might arise that will draw attention to them again. Melba is to be released from the hospital next Monday with some home nursing care for a few weeks. They have her on a new medication. It seems to be working well, so far. She's not physically ill, at least, but they need someone to keep an eye on her. She's more of a danger to herself than anyone else."
"Does she
realize yet her son is gone for good? Even at the funeral she seemed dazed and confused," I said. "I wasn't sure she even knew where she was."
"I think she does have some understanding of the circumstances by this time. She's been very upset since attending the funeral. They have her on suicide watch for a few days, anyway."
"That's too bad," Stone commented. "She's had kind of a rough life. What about Clarence? Is he still in town?"
"Clarence is driving back to Albuquerque as we speak. On the morning his son was murdered, he was at a high school friend's house, involved in a friendly game of penny-ante poker. He has five friends who can back up his story," Wyatt said. "And he really had no motive to kill Walter. He had nothing to gain from the boy's death. While he was in town, he'd planned to try once more to convince Walter to move to New Mexico and learn the heating and cooling trade. Walter was killed before Clarence got the opportunity."
"How sad, although I doubt Walter would have left Sidney behind to move to New Mexico. Any news about the DNA evidence from the loose hair found on Walter?" I asked.
"Yes, we took your advice and did a buccal, or mouth, swab on Roxie Kane, and found she was a DNA match to the hair. She's still under scrutiny, and the closest thing we have to a suspect to date. No one has stepped forward to verify her alibi yet, and her story is a little sketchy. Had she not been a match, we would have tested you and Wendy next."
Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set Page 51