by Nick Bishop
“He mentioned that,” Jed said.
“He stopped by the day after Joe’s death to offer condolences. He asked if I had any idea who could have done such a thing as murder Joe. I didn’t. But—and this is what made him tell you to talk to me again—I said that something about the way it was done bothered me. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it. I told him that if I could just wrack my brain enough, I’d figure out what it was that made me suspicious. But it was you two who drew it out of me. I’ll be damned.”
“It’s all coming together, isn’t it, Jed?” Ellie said as they headed back to the parking lot at school.
“But it’s weird,” Jed said. “We had all these suspects…but no one who’s an employee of Briner House. It doesn’t make sense. All the others had reasons for disliking Joe, which could have been the motive for his murder. But none of it fits. Where did we go wrong?”
“Did we go wrong?” Ellie asked. “Yes, we spent a lot of time questioning suspects, but that’s what it often takes to solve a crime…as I’m sure you know because of your association with Sam.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I am. So don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Sam,” Jed said into the phone. He sat in his car in the parking lot of Caraway School.”
“Hey, Teach, how you doing?”
“I’m good. Called to tell you I hear there’s a special on doughnuts today at Buehler’s.”
“Sure there is!”
“And the holes in the center of the doughnuts are free.”
“Now that all that’s out of the way…”
“Ellie and I talked to Harry Briner after school. In fact, I’m still here in Sweet River. In the school parking lot. Got some news for you…but a request, as well.”
“Nope! I’m not going to share my doughnuts.”
Jed burst out laughing. “Wish it were that simple.”
“So did you find something out?”
“Maybe. It seems Mrs. Briner is very much interested in plants and flowers.”
“And the point is?”
“The day before Joe was killed, she was repotting a lot of her plants. But she ran out of potting soil. She obviously remembered that there were bags of potting soil in a shed behind Briner House. At least that’s what her husband told me.”
“Hey, Teach, I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure why you’re telling me this.”
“Grab a doughnut, relax, and I’ll enlighten you,” Jed kidded.
“Uh huh.”
“According to Briner, his wife didn’t want to stop working to go get potting soil herself, so she called Harry and asked if he could bring some from Briner House.”
“I assume this has something to do with finding traces of potting soil in the field beside Johnstone’s car.”
“It does indeed.”
“Go on.”
“Harry Briner told Ellie and me that since it was a slow time at the business, he asked if someone would take the soil to his wife.”
“And you think the person he sent is somehow connected to Joe’s murder.”
“Possible but not probable.”
“I’m sure you’ll explain.”
“Joe was missing a bow, which he thought he’d left in his car when he went to do target practice at his in-laws’ place. But it wasn’t there when he finished and was ready to go home. According to his wife, he thought maybe he’d absent-mindedly left it somewhere else. She called her mom but the woman knew nothing about it, she said. Same for her dad.”
“I assume you’re suggesting that Johnstone was still at his in-laws when the person delivered the potting soil.”
“He was. But the man walked there, and Mrs. Briner watched him leave. So, he couldn’t have taken the bow. But apparently, she becomes so engrossed in her work that she wouldn’t have noticed any other visitors, or she could also have been inside the house if anyone else came there. So, it’s possible another visitor saw the bow in the back seat of Joe’s car and took it. Maybe put it in his trunk or something.”
“Who could it have been?” Sam asked.
“I think I know, but I’m not positive yet.”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to make any accusations.” He paused, then asked, “Remember I said I had a request?”
“How could I forget?” He grinned. “So, go ahead and ask.”
“Tomorrow there’s no school. Instead, there’s a county-wide teacher’s conference in Strasburg. It’s to last about three hours and starts at eight.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I want to confront the suspect and see if he really is guilty.”
“That’s not a good idea, Jed. You know that.”
“That’s why I’d like to have a get-together at Briner House tomorrow after the teachers’ meeting ends.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’d like you to be there, as well as the Sweet River police.”
“You think you can confront the murderer there.”
“I do.”
“And why should I go along with this?”
“Because I’m positive it will prove who murdered Joe.”
“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to go and arrest the person?”
“Maybe, but I think if we all go to Briner House tomorrow and confront him, there’s no way he can get away with it.”
“And you want to be there when it all comes down.”
“You don’t expect us to miss all the fun, do you? It would be like someone writing a short story that ended just before the climax. And then later someone told you how the story ended.”
“And as I implied, you don’t want to miss the real climax.”
“Exactly,” Jed answered.
“As I said, I’ll see if that can be arranged.”
“Oh, it already is,” Jed answered.
“Think you’d better explain that one.”
“Ellie and I talked with Briner and asked him to have the meeting at his business. I told him that that’s when we’d know for certain who murdered Joe. He said he’d arrange for us to meet just after lunchtime.”
“I see,” Sam answered. “So you and Ellie went ahead and arranged this little to-do without talking to me or the Sweet River police?”
“We did!”
“Pretty sure of yourselves, aren’t you? Assuming I’d go along with the plan.”
“I didn’t see any other way to do it.”
“Uh huh. Well, the chief certainly will be thrilled to hear that. Because a snoopy woman and a teacher want the action to occur at a certain time, everyone kowtows and says, ‘We await your orders.’”
Jed knew Sam was kidding or at least hoped he was. “But what else? After all, the police are supposed to serve the people, right. And you can’t doubt Ellie and I are the people…at least two of them.”
Sam laughed. “You two certainly aren’t the least bit lacking in chutzpa.”
“I assume there will be a police presence.”
“I too dislike stories that end before the climax. And I’ll notify the Sweet River police department…and hope they let me tag along, even just as an observer.”
“Seriously, Sam, you aren’t upset about this?”
“No, but you’re going to owe me big time. At least a couple boxes of mixed doughnuts, and don’t you forget it.”
***
Jed decided to give Ellie time to get home before he called her with the news, so he’d go home first where his two little companions would be demanding their dinner as soon as he walked into the kitchen.
Sure enough, Sugar and Spice were eagerly awaiting his arrival—or at least the arrival of their dinners.
As soon as they were both well-fed and well-petted, Jed dialed Ellie’s number.
“Everything’s set for tomorrow,” Jed told her.
“You talked with Sam?”
“I did, and I assume he’ll let the Sweet River police
know what’s going to happen. It’s best, I think, that they be there.”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea not to have them there. And Sam too?”
“Said he wouldn’t miss it, though he may just have to remain on the sidelines since, of course, he has no jurisdiction in Sweet River.”
“So, are you ready for tomorrow’s teachers’ meeting?”
“Sounds boring,” Jed said, “and a waste of time. New technologies? Probably totally high-tech and high-end so that only the richest school districts can afford any of the equipment.”
“Now is that the proper attitude?” Ellie kidded.
“Maybe not,” Jed said. “But it’s my attitude and I’m not trading it in.”
“There you go,” Ellie said.
“So, you want to go to the meeting together?”
“I’ll stop by your house about 7:40 or so.”
“Look forward to seeing you. Have a good night.”
***
Harry Briner met Jed and Ellie when they stopped the car in front of Briner House. “The workers are having their lunch break,” he told them. “It will be another twenty minutes or so until they’re finished. Come on inside the gift shop. We can wait there until it’s time for lunch break to be over.
He held the door for the two of them to enter.
“No idea yet who delivered the potting soil to your house?” Jed asked once they were inside.
“Afraid not,” Briner said. “But we’ll soon know, won’t we?”
“I suppose we will.”
“Come on back to the office. At least there are chairs there where we can sit and wait.”
Just as they started toward the back, a car pulled up in front of the building. Jed glanced out to see Sam Branson head up the steps.
“Who is it?” Briner asked.
Jed explained as Sam opened the door and came inside.
“Sam,” Jed said. “I see you made it.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Sam replied. He turned to Ellie, “Mrs. Steiner. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Sam. But don’t be so formal, please. I get enough of being called Mrs. Steiner at school—the only thing I really dislike about teaching. The formality.”
“Fair enough, Ellie.”
Jed turned to Briner. “This is Sam Branson, the man who’s in charge of investigating Joe’s murder.”
“Good to meet you,” Harry said. “I certainly hope we find out who did it. It’s a terrible thing.”
“It is indeed, Mr. Briner,” Sam said. “And I hope what’s about to happen today will bring an end to it.”
“So are you here in an official capacity, Sam?” Jed asked, “or just as a witness.”
“No, on this, both police departments feel we need to cooperate.”
“Sounds as if you think we could have some serious complications,” Briner said.
“I hope not. But you never know. I’ve found human behavior under similar circumstances is unpredictable. Some people surrender quietly; others do not.”
“I hope in this case it’s the former—that the man doesn’t try anything.”
“None of the men have any reason to expect anything, do they?” Sam asked.
“Certainly not that I know of,” Briner said.
Briner glanced at his cell phone. “Well, lunch break is about over. I suggest we head out back.”
Just as they went out the back door of Briner’s office, two Sweet River policemen walked around the side of the gift shop and up to them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What’s up? Mr. Briner,” a young man asked as Briner, the three policemen, and Jed and Ellie entered the cheesemaking building.
“Are we under arrest?” another man joked.
“If it’s about that parking ticket, officer, I surrender,” another man kidded.
Jed was surprised. He’d expected the men to at least question why the police were present.
“I’m afraid this is a serious matter,” Briner said.
“Has something happened?” a man asked. “I mean something wrong.”
Jed and the others stood near the entrance, the late afternoon sun warming their backs.
“You may remember that before my son-in-law was murdered, I asked if someone would drop off a sack of potting soil at my house. My wife had run out and didn’t want to take time to go buy some.”
“I remember,” one of the men said. “A bunch of us stood around talking, and that’s when you asked.”
“That’s right. Now the problem is that I don’t know which of you delivered the soil, only that it was delivered. My wife also doesn’t know. She said it was one of you, but she doesn’t know your name.”
“Why is this important?” a middle-aged man asked.
“Maybe it isn’t,” Briner said. “Maybe it is.” He looked from one to another. “You see at the same time my wife was working with her plants, my son-in-law Joe Johnstone was out back doing target practice.”
“And…and he was shot with a bow and arrow,” a man said.
“Yes, he was. He was a good man. In ways he didn’t fit the mold of what I’d have chosen for my daughter’s husband, but nevertheless a good man, a man of intelligence and achievement. And there’s a strong possibility that one of his own bows was the murder weapon.”’
“How is that possible?” a man asked. “He wasn’t attacked at your house.”
“Precisely. It was in a field at the edge of Dover.”
“So how could his own bow be the murder weapon?” the same man asked.
“In all likelihood, the day Joe was at our house, he left one of his bows in the car. He usually carried two or three with him and decided later which one he wanted to use on a particular day.”
“In all likelihood?” another man asked.
Suddenly, Jed realized that one of the men standing behind the group of others and partly hidden in darkness was Jim Bochart.
“Yes. Apparently, Joe went back to his car and realized his bow was missing. He thought maybe he’d absentmindedly taken it to the area where he set up his target. He looked, but it wasn’t there. Then he began to wonder what he’d done with it.” Briner sighed deeply. “Then, Joe, as he later told my daughter, thought maybe he hadn’t brought it with him at all. That he’d meant to but then had forgotten it at home.
“The bow wasn’t at home. My daughter called her mother to find out if she’d seen the bow. She hadn’t. Neither had I. That led us to the conclusion that someone had stolen it. And it seems the only person who could have done such a thing was the man who delivered the potting soil to my wife.
“I need to know who that was, and I need him to tell me what happened.” He paused. “The police are here. Two from Sweet River, and Sam Branson, a Dover police detective who has been investigating the case in Dover since that’s where Joe was murdered.” He again looked from one man to another. “My wife is not the neatest of gardeners. Once she starts her semi-annual transplanting, she uses great amounts of potting soil. Much of the soil never makes it to the pots.”
A few of the men laughed.
“What I’m leading up to is that there was potting soil everywhere. She works either on our front porch or out at the garage. So there’s likely to be spilled potting soil in great abundance…including in the driveway.” Briner turned to Jed. “Mr. Fredericks, former investigative reporter for the Times Reporter, and now a junior high teacher at Caraway, along with Mrs. Steiner…” He nodded toward Ellie. “…has been investigating Joe’s murder…with the blessing of the Dover police.”
Ellie leaned toward Jed and whispered into his ear. “Well, at least one of us is blessed. The one who isn’t the witch.”
Jed couldn’t keep himself from silently laughing.
“Now Jed, Mr. Fredericks, tells me that the Dover police made an interesting discovery next to Joe’s car.” He turned to Sam. “Would you care to tell everyone what you found.”
“Of course.” Sam nodded to Briner and t
hen turned to face the others. “We tried to find tire tracks next to the victim’s car. There were no tracks because the grass in the field where Johnstone was murdered was too thick and too high. However, we do know for a fact that that another vehicle pulled into the field beside the victim’s car. How do we know this?” He glanced from one person to another. “The grass in the field was flattened in a pattern consistent with tracks made by some sort of vehicle. There were traces of potting soil where the grass was depressed. That led us to the conclusion that the driver of that vehicle had been in the area where potting soil recently had been used.”
Sam glanced at the workers. “We need to figure out who delivered the potting soil to Mr. and Mrs. Briner’s home.”
Suddenly, all the workers were looking at Jim Bochart.
“I delivered the soil,” Bochart said, “but I don’t know anything about a bow. And I certainly never went to Dover that morning.”
“I know you didn’t,” Jed said.
“What are you talking about?” Briner asked.
“Let me ask you this,” Jed said. “Was Jim ever late to work?”
“He may have been. I don’t spy on my workers. And sometimes, as you know, I’m in the gift shop or my office when the men arrive. I open up, that’s all. I don’t stand around waiting to see who arrives on time or who doesn’t. Besides,” Briner said, “we all know how upset Jim was at Joe for giving Jim’s son a low grade.”
“I admit I’m a little obsessed with education. I came from a big family. Each of us worked as soon as we could do anything to bring in money. I’m not saying I didn’t have a happy childhood. I did. But I wanted more. I didn’t want to be stuck in a repetitive job all my life. I wanted to be something different. I wanted very much to go on to college. But it was impossible. Some of my siblings didn’t even finish high school, though that was their choice.”
“Why are you telling us all this?” Briner asked.
“I’m trying to explain the way I feel, so you’ll understand my reaction to Gary’s ‘C’ in English.”
“Then spit it out, damn it!” Briner said.
One of the Sweet River cops took a step toward Briner, all the while keeping an eye on Bochart, as well.