“Yes and no. On the one hand, there was a new van sitting in front of the building. Gina thinks they cost more than fifty thousand.”
“Which is a lot to shell out for a struggling business.”
“Another client’s?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. It seemed as if we were the only ones there.” Agatha shook her head, and reached for her kapp strings, ran her fingers up and down them—thinking, remembering. “Setting aside the state of their offices, there was something else that seemed out of sorts about our visit.”
“Such as?”
“I think that something was bothering Debbie. Remember, when we first walked in, when she was speaking to her grandson? She seemed on edge, more than you would be over a three-year-old’s request to play on a computer.”
“I’ll do some digging into their business. See what I can find out.” Tony clicked off the phone, stowed it in his shirt pocket, and then relayed his discussion with Georgia Maples as well as what he’d learned from Bannister.
“So—nothing. You learned nothing.” Gina began stacking dessert plates and mugs. “Jimmy Bannister should understand that we’re on his side of things. He should be more forthcoming. It’s going to take a team mentality to put this puzzle together.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“So you agree?”
“Pretty much.” Tony reached for Agatha’s hand. “I’m pleased that he agreed to post an officer outside Agatha’s place tonight, and it’s nice to know that we have Georgia Maples to call on for backup.”
“We should have the Hunt PD for backup. I’m taking a shower and going to bed.” And with that proclamation, Gina headed into the house, tossing back over her shoulder, “All of this eating and thinking has worn me out.”
Agatha sat back against the rocking chair with a sigh.
“She worries about you.”
“I know. I’m worried too.”
“About what in particular? Because you’re safe here, Agatha. I promise you that.”
“Danki.” She squeezed his hand, then peered out toward the river. “It’s more a general unsettled feeling. I know that the renovation will move forward eventually, even if Dewald Construction doesn’t finish it.”
“Your church?”
“Sure. I wouldn’t want to ask them to step in, but I wouldn’t have to. They’d volunteer. I suppose if I can’t get a work crew from the Dewalds, I’ll speak to Bishop Schrock.”
“I know you’d rather pay your way.”
“True, but I can make a donation to the benevolence fund equal to what I would have paid the Dewalds. It’s just that August is a busy time for farmers—especially Texas farmers. It’s why we generally schedule barn raisings around planting and harvesting crops.”
“Think positive but prepare for the worst.”
She laughed at his words and snuggled into the crook of his arm. She felt more than safe there. She felt complete. They stayed that way for another twenty minutes, and when darkness had finally settled, Agatha stood, kissed Tony on the cheek, and made her way to his guest room.
Once he was alone, Tony went to his study and sat in front of his laptop computer.
When he was a detective, he’d learned many things about human nature. One thing that had surprised him was how patient people were when it came to exacting revenge or cashing in on a payday. The stereotypical criminal was impulsive and impatient. Something told Tony that this was not the type of person they were dealing with.
The person they were dealing with seemed to have the long-game in mind. Waynard’s buckle had been stolen in 1998. Sean Neal had claimed to know its whereabouts nearly twenty years later. That was where Tony needed to start digging—not around the original crime but around the thing that turned it from a cold case into an active one. Bannister would already be doing that, not to mention the group of lawyers and private investigators hired by Waynard’s family. Tony needed to look at this from a different perspective. He needed to figure out what made Sean Neal suddenly claim to have information.
That claim had resulted in his death. It couldn’t have been a coincidence.
He did some searching, but the death of a lifer at the Huntsville State Penitentiary didn’t make for big news. He found a two-line mention in the Huntsville Item.
Sean Neal died as a result of a blow to the back of the head on July 16, 2017. He was serving a life sentence for a murder one conviction after having been found guilty of killing a convenience store clerk during a robbery.
That was it. Nothing about the man’s life.
No stated connection to the Waynard robbery.
No details at all.
Tony pulled out the piece of paper that Bannister’s secretary had given him. Opening his email, he typed in the address, composed a short message, and hit SEND. He didn’t expect to receive an answer before morning, but as he was clearing out his other messages—which were mostly junk—he heard the familiar ding that indicated a new message.
Tomorrow. Noon.
Floore’s Country Store.
Tony closed the laptop, flipped off the desk lamp, and went to bed. Knowing that Gina and Agatha were down the hall, that they were safe, eased the worries that might have kept him awake. Knowing what he was going to do the next day kept him from tossing and turning. It always felt better to do something than to sit back and wait for something else to happen. He was a pro-active kind of guy. Hopefully in this case, it would be prudent.
He sincerely believed so.
He was asleep before he’d properly pulled up the covers.
Chapter Nine
Tony was surprised to wake and smell freshly brewed coffee. Then he remembered that Agatha and Gina had spent the night. He took a quick shower, donned a clean t-shirt and pair of jeans, and hustled into the kitchen as Agatha was pulling fresh cinnamon rolls out of the oven.
“How did you do that?”
“Cook cinnamon rolls? It’s quite easy, actually...” Her words faded off and she looked a bit lost. Her gaze darted around the room—out the window, at Tony, and finally back at the cinnamon rolls. She had her arms wrapped around her middle as if she were cold.
Tony wondered if she had slept at all. Gina didn’t look much better. She kept rubbing at her eyes as if she were having an allergy attack, then grabbed a bottle of countertop cleaner and a rag and set to work scrubbing his already clean kitchen.
Tony kissed Agatha’s cheek as he reached for a coffee mug. “I’m sure you know how to cook cinnamon rolls. That wasn’t what I meant. You’d be lucky to find fresh eggs in my kitchen. I’m pretty sure I didn’t have the ingredients for...” He leaned toward the rolls she’d set on the top of the stove to cool and inhaled deeply.
“Orange cinnamon rolls. You’re going to love them.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“Of course you will.” Gina was trying for her normal light, teasing tone, but she continued to scrub the countertops and eyed the stove as if she wanted to have a go at it as well. “Who can say no to Agatha’s cooking? She’s a better baker than I am, which makes her extremely good. Say, when was the last time the top of your refrigerator was cleaned?”
Tony gently removed the rag and bottle of cleaner from her hands and replaced it with a steaming mug of coffee. “Let’s all grab coffee and a roll, and have a meeting on the back porch. What do you say?”
Which caused Agatha to stop fidgeting with her apron strings and Gina to frown a fraction less intensely.
When they were settled on his back porch, Fonzi jumped onto the porch railing, stretched mightily, then sat and proceeded to wash his face. The feline’s yellow fur shone in the morning light. If he was upset about the state of affairs, he was hiding it well.
“I popped over to my place and fed Fonzi,” Agatha offered by way of explanation. “Plus I picked up the ingredients for the rolls, and then I took some hot coffee and granola bars out to the nice officer watching the house. Her name is Kemi Gracen, and she moved here from the Dallas
area.”
Tony scratched the back of his neck. How had he slept through all of that? “All right. I want you two to tell me what you’re worried about. Out with it. First thing that comes to your mind.”
Gina jumped right in. “Those idiots might come back.”
“What if they decide to tear up the barn?” A frown formed between Agatha’s eyes.
“Will the Dewald crew be able to start the renovation now?”
“And what kind of people are we to be worrying over renovations when a young man has lost his life?” Agatha used her fork to tear apart the cinnamon roll on her plate.
“Why don’t you try eating that?” Tony waited for her to nod and try a bite.
“It is quite good.”
“Let’s start with your last question. You’re a normal person with normal plans. You’re eager to go and see your family.”
“That’s true, Agatha. You’ve been looking forward to this trip all summer.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re not compassionate.”
“I suppose.” Agatha gave up on pretending to eat the roll and sat back, nursing the cup of coffee. “I think I’d feel better if I went to see my bishop.”
“Excellent idea.” Tony forked a giant bite of the cinnamon roll into his mouth and groaned. Then he swished it down with coffee. “Wow. That’s even tastier than I expected.”
Gina and Agatha shared a smile, and Tony knew they’d passed the first barrier. After a violent event—and both women had endured three if you counted the kids breaking in, then the more serious burglars, and finally having to identify Kolbe’s body—it wasn’t uncommon for a person’s equilibrium to be off. Their world had been rocked in ways they normally only saw on the news. They felt vulnerable and scared and guilty for being a survivor.
“The Texas Rangers are coming today with an x-ray crew,” he reminded them. “Bannister will be here to oversee—or he’ll send someone. Together the Rangers and the Hunt Police Department will make sure there’s nothing else hidden in the walls of the B&B or the barn. Once that’s done, Bannister will issue a statement which will be picked up by the newspapers and television stations. Our burglars will get the message that the items are not in your house.”
“Okay. That’s good to know.” Gina nodded and sipped her coffee. “I was afraid I was going to have to make a post on the Hunt Community News Facebook page, informing everyone that we’re treasure free. You know how posts on that page can go. They’re as likely to organize a group hunt as they are to accept there’s nothing here. Fifty-fifty chance, I suspect.”
“You won’t need to post anything to social media. Someone else will take care of that for you. Trust me. This is the most excitement to hit this town since—”
“Since the last murder.” Agatha grimaced, then stood and began stacking dishes.
Gina declared she was going back to the B&B to clean the kitchen. Tony stood, took the dishes out of Agatha’s hands, set them back on the table, and pulled her into his arms.
“You’ll feel better this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe as early as tomorrow, the work crews will be back.”
“Do you really think so?” She pulled away, walked over to the porch railing and ran her hand down Fonzi’s back. The cat purred in response. Obviously Fonzi was not worried about the day’s events. “Do you think they’ll finish the job?”
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. Dewald will want to fulfill that contract. Whether he needs money or not, the reputation of his business is at stake. I did a little checking about his company last night.”
“You went back out?”
“Nope. I did it online. As far as I can tell, it’s a good construction company. No complaints with the Better Business Bureau. No criminal background on either Dewald.”
“How did you check that last part?”
“I have my ways.” He walked over to her, reached for her shoulders, and turned her slightly so he could look into her eyes. “I know you weren’t expecting this, Agatha—the treasure, the burglary, and certainly not the murder. But starting today, we are switching to offense. We’re turning this thing around.”
“What does that mean?”
“You just make sure the Rangers are able to do their job.”
“And where are you going?”
“To follow a loose thread.”
Thirty minutes later he was headed south to Floore’s Country Store. The iconic café/music venue was only an hour’s drive, but he wanted to make a few stops along the way.
AGATHA’S SENSE OF UNEASE melted away when she peeked out the kitchen window and saw her bishop drive into her parking area. She ran out to the buggy, thrilled to see both Minerva and Jonas. “What a nice surprise.”
“We thought you could use some company today.” Minerva smiled and pushed a plate of oatmeal cookies covered with a red-checkered dish cloth into Agatha’s hands. “Just keep the dish cloth. We have plenty.”
Gina would be thrilled that they were back up one dish cloth.
“You came just to bring me cookies?”
“That, and we’ve never met a Texas Ranger.” Jonas smiled broadly. “We thought they might be here already. Today is the day?”
“It is. They called on the business phone and said they were running a little late. One of their gizmos wasn’t working. Said they’d be here in the next hour.”
“Excellent. That gives us time to try some of Minerva’s baking and catch up.”
Gina cordially greeted the bishop and his wife, then declared that the upstairs rooms needed cleaning. They didn’t. The B&B was closed. How dirty could they be? But Agatha understood that her friend needed time alone and cleaning was how Gina worked off any anxiety.
“We heard about the young man who was killed,” Jonas said.
“We came by yesterday, but you weren’t here.” Minerva turned her cup of coffee to the left and then the right. “How are you?”
“I’m okay. We were in town yesterday, trying to chase down some clues.”
“Sleuthing again?” Jonas was trying to act surprised, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
She told them everything—about the burglars, her and Gina creeping downstairs, the destruction they’d found, and then having to identify the body. She told them about driving to Dewald Construction and how that seemed to create more problems than it solved.
“I can only imagine how hard the last four days must have been, Agatha.” Jonas hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You built this place to be a solace to others. For your home and your business to be violated in this way, and then for a young man who was working here to be murdered, it must have all been very difficult for you.”
“But more difficult for Kolbe’s mamm.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hastily brushed them away. “I really have no right to feel so badly about it all. She’s the one who lost a son.”
“Agatha.” Jonas waited for her to raise her eyes to his. “Loss is a difficult thing—whether it’s a son that you’ve raised from birth, or a worker you’ve just met. It’s still loss. It still brings with it pain and questions and feelings of confusion.”
Now she couldn’t speak at all. She simply nodded. He was right. She had been feeling the loss very keenly—the needlessness of it. And she was confused. “I simply can’t understand why someone would kill for material things.”
“And yet such is our world.” He leaned forward and tapped the table. “And such it has been, since the day that Cain killed Able.”
“That part of Genesis always confused me,” Minerva admitted. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Agatha. I may be a bishop’s wife, but that doesn’t mean Jonas shares all the answers to life’s questions with me.”
“Mainly because I don’t have all the answers to life’s questions.”
Their banter and honesty helped to untie the knot in Agatha’s stomach. “I needed this visit, more than you can imagine.”
They were interru
pted by the sound of several vehicles pulling into the drive. Gina was at the door by the time they were, and then the entire group had moved outside, greeting Bannister and the four Texas Rangers. There were three men and one woman, wearing western hats and shirts, boots, and the requisite utility belt comparable to what the local officers wore.
Surprisingly, it was the woman who was the senior of the three. Her name was Martinez. She was tall and thin with long black hair pulled back with a simple band. Her demeanor was pleasant but also no-nonsense. She explained what they were going to do and how long they expected it to take.
“Would you like us to wait outside?”
“The porch is fine, ma’am. Wouldn’t want anyone to melt in this heat.”
It was then Agatha noticed the large crowd growing across the street. They’d pulled to the side of the road, and apparently the officer riding with Bannister was tasked with keeping them off the property. Agatha craned her neck and noticed there were even several news crews.
Which was fine with her. The Rangers would x-ray her house and prove there was no treasure. Bannister could walk across the road and give a statement to the interested hoard. The media would notify the public. Things were looking up, just as Tony had said they would. In fact, the morning was going better than she could have hoped.
Unless they did find more treasure.
She pushed that terrible thought from her mind and followed Gina, Jonas, and Minerva back onto the porch.
“I expected them to bring a lot of equipment.” Gina pretended to straighten the pillows on the rockers, sneaking a peek into the house as she did. “Those things they’re holding aren’t any bigger than a speed gun.”
“And somewhat similar in function.”
They all jumped at the sound of Bannister’s voice. Agatha had forgotten all about him.
“I was reading up on the technology last night.” Bannister stood between the front door and the steps, as if to bridge the space between the Rangers and the lookie-loos. “It was developed to find drugs that were hidden in crawl spaces, tunnels, and HVAC ducts. Basically the screen displays a black and white image that will reflect any changes in density.”
Dead Set Page 7