Dead Set

by Vannetta Chapman

  “And they killed Kolbe?”

  “My guess is yes, but we don’t know that for certain yet.”

  “How does this all tie in to your case, Garrett?”

  Tony noticed that Agatha used the man’s Christian name. She once told him that it seemed rude to call people by their last name. I wouldn’t want someone calling me Lapp. He smiled at the memory.

  Gina obviously had different views on the subject. It took a while for her to reach a first-name basis with a person, especially someone she’d suspected of murder. She scowled at Garrett. “Jackson, I think it’s time you explain to us why you’re here, because it seems like too big a coincidence to me.”

  “No coincidence, really. Two years ago I was put on the cold case squad...well, actually there’s only two of us, and we only work on cold cases when we’re not called in to help with an active investigation.”

  Gina made an impatient gesture for him to hurry it along.

  “Sean Neal was serving a life sentence at the Hunstville Penitentiary for a murder one conviction. He’d exhausted his appeals and seemed destined to die behind bars when he claimed to have information on the location of Waynard’s stolen buckle.”

  Tony hated to think of anyone spending their life in prison, but he also didn’t think this passed the sniff test. “Why would anyone believe him?”

  “He had information about the buckle that only Waynard had been able to provide...an etching on the inside of the buckle. It hadn’t been included in the news articles. Waynard only told the officers in charge of the case, and those officers held the details back for just such a possibility as Neal’s claim.”

  “I was supposed to go and interview him.” Tony ran a thumb over the blue quilt, then looked up and met Agatha’s gaze. “Then Camilla received her cancer diagnosis, and we spent the next several months in and out of MD Anderson in Houston.”

  Garrett picked up the thread of the story. “Blake Goodwin headed to Huntsville in your place. Before he arrived, Neal was murdered by another inmate, Dan Cole. It looked like a jailhouse brawl that had spun out of control. On closer examination, it was established that Dan Cole and Sean Neal knew each other before their incarceration. Our best guess is that they worked a string of robberies together, hid the items until the cop’s and the public’s attention waned, and then planned to recover and sell the items.”

  “Only Sean was killed first.” Agatha’s voice was soft, sad even, and she shook her head in disbelief.

  Tony knew that there was no end to the depravity of man—only that wasn’t quite right. He looked around, looked at the three people in the room with him, and he knew that man’s depravity was only half the story. There was also goodness and kindness and respect. There were friends—and even strangers—who were willing to risk their life for yours.

  “Sean Neal was dead. Dan Cole had another life sentence tacked on to the one he was already serving, and the case was closed.”

  “Until you received an anonymous tip and Agatha used a rubber mallet on her living room wall.” Gina shook her head, as if Agatha should have known better.

  Tony held up a finger. “But Tamara was there when you landed the first blow, supposedly to interview you.”

  Garrett cleared his throat, then admitted, “She’s been on our radar since I re-opened the case.”

  “Why?” Gina stared up at the ceiling as if she could find the answers there, then finally looked at Garrett. “Why would you suspect Tamara?”

  “Because Dan Cole was her uncle. She’s the last living relative, and they’ve been corresponding throughout his time in prison.”

  “He’s been feeding her the locations.”

  “Right. By the time we figured that out, it was already too late. She knew what you’d find, Agatha. She didn’t expect to get caught. She thought she could slip back in and find the rest. Thought the stolen items would all be hidden together.”

  “So how did she end up here?”

  “She’s a reporter. My guess is that she went back and looked at all the construction projects her uncle and Sean Neal had worked on together. The renovation of the YO Ranch was three months before your home was built on the banks of the Guadalupe.”

  “Why hide them inside a wall?” Agatha made a motion as if to reach for her kapp strings, then seemed to realized that she wasn’t wearing it. She smiled sheepishly, then dropped her hands in her lap. “The stolen goods would be safe—and more accessible—in a safe deposit box.”

  “Burglars often don’t trust banks. By hiding the goods inside a wall, there was little to no chance that anyone would find them.” Tony scooted to the edge of the bed, stood, and peered out the window. Satisfied that they were still unobserved, he turned back to the occupants in the room. “Now that we’re caught up on the past, let me explain what I think we need to do at the wedding.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Agatha tugged on the hem of the black shirt.

  “Stop that.”

  “It feels too tight.”

  “It fits perfectly, and you’re part of the kitchen staff. You’re not supposed to care how you look.”

  “Right.” She glanced at Gina, who was dressed in identical black pants and shirt. Garrett had procured the uniforms from the staff bunkhouse. Since he hadn’t been seen by Tamara or any of her goons, he could continue his undercover stint on the workers’ crew. It seemed to Agatha that staff outnumbered guests at this wedding. There were so many people milling around at this point that the addition of Agatha and Gina as kitchen workers would hardly be noticed.

  Tony had gone back to Hunt, donned his best jeans, western shirt, and cowboy hat, and returned as a guest to the wedding. He’d also brought back walkie-talkies for everyone. “Safer than phones,” he murmured as he handed them out. “If you see something—”

  “Say something. Yeah yeah.” Gina was still battling the effects of her concussion, which did nothing to improve her mood. Fortunately the uniforms included black baseball caps with the YO logo, which helped to hide her injury. She was still miffed that Tony hadn’t brought her back a gun.

  “We’re not here to shoot them,” Garrett reminded her. “We’re here to arrest them.”

  Agatha didn’t want a gun. She was holding a broom and dustpan, as if ready to jump forward for the smallest spill.

  The plan was simple enough. They’d pretend to work the wedding reception, wait for Tamara and company to begin knocking holes in the main reception room hall, and then Garrett would pop in and make the arrest. In the other two murder investigations Agatha had been involved in, and oh how she’d prayed that those were her last, things hadn’t even once gone according to plan.

  Her heart rate sped up as the woman sitting near the front and to the side of the main staging area raised her violin and began to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D Minor.

  This was it. Show time!

  All the guests turned in their seats to look back toward the main lodge.

  A flower girl in a cute-as-pie prairie skirt and blouse ambled up the center aisle, scattering bluebonnets instead of roses.

  She was followed by the maid of honor, who was dressed in a similar fashion. She had short, red curly hair, and Agatha thought it set off the lavender dress beautifully.

  There was a murmur as the bride appeared at the back of the assembled area. The guests all stood, and turned to watch the bride as she began to walk down the aisle. Agatha was familiar with Englisch weddings, but she’d never been to a western-themed wedding. The bride wore a sleeveless, floor-length white dress resplendent with yards of lace and a deep V neck. Her right hand was slipped through her father’s arm, clutching the white rose bouquet. Her left hand held her dress up just enough for the designer cowboy boots to show. Her hair was pulled over her left shoulder, with more lace woven through the wavy curls.

  Agatha thought of the last Amish wedding she’d been to and almost laughed. The bride had worn blue—what would afterwards be her new church dress.

  To each t
heir own, she supposed.

  At the front of those assembled waited the groom, wearing a western-cut black suit, starched white shirt with the collar standing up, a black string bolo tie, black Stetson hat, and western belt buckle.

  Not a diamond belt buckle, though.

  Not Waynard’s belt buckle, which the police had returned to Waynard’s family.

  Next to the groom was his best man, the minister, and a giraffe. Apparently saying your wedding vows in front of wildlife was the kicker here. The wedding photographer was snapping away, and then the bride stopped and the bride’s father slipped her hand into the crook of her betrothed’s arm.

  Easy peasy.

  The giraffe dipped its head, and it was only then that Agatha saw that a YO worker was kneeling behind the staged area with a treat bucket. The bride gazed up at her groom, the giraffe practically smiled, and a murmur of approval went through the guests.

  The photographer snapped another dozen pictures.

  The minister said, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...” which was their signal to move to their secondary positions. Garrett should have already made his way inside the lobby—hidden, of course. Tony had been standing to the side of the crowd and now he moved around the corner of the building in order to make his way to the front of the lodge. From there he would have a clear line of sight to the front door, in case anyone tried to escape that way. Agatha and Gina positioned themselves on either side of the back door.

  There was no chance Tamara would run that direction. She’d be running right into a crowd of wedding guests, not to mention a giraffe. Going that direction made no sense at all, which is why Tony had stationed her and Gina there. Agatha was fine with it. She was rather enjoying the wedding.

  “What are they waiting for?” Gina muttered.

  “I’m not sure, but stay back. You don’t want them to see us.”

  Gina frowned and put her hands on top of her head, but she stepped back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.”

  “But your...” Agatha motioned to her head.

  “Later. When this is over.”

  Agatha understood that it wasn’t simply a matter of Gina being caught up in the moment, or the thrill of the chase. Gina had confessed before they’d fallen asleep around three a.m. that she was worried about the B&B. “We have to solve this, Agatha. We have to get things back to normal or you’ll never have a guest again.”

  It was then that Agatha realized Gina was a partner in her business in every sense of the word. She cared about the outcome, cared about their guests, and cared about their reputation. Gina was her business partner and her close friend.

  They waited as the bride and groom fumbled through their vows, the guests laughing at all the right places.

  “What if we’re wrong?” Agatha asked.

  “We’re not. Tamara’s in there. I saw her.”

  “But they haven’t started...” She made the gesture of someone whacking something with a hammer.

  “Not yet.”

  And that was when the minister pronounced the newly wedded couple to be man and wife. The full western swing band broke into Cowboy Take Me Away, and a chorus of shouts rose from the guests. The groom reached for the bride’s hand and they proceeded to dance. He spun her around, causing her dress to swirl like a parasol. Agatha thought the two looked like something from an Englisch movie. Unfortunately, this movie wasn’t a romance. It was a murder mystery.

  Then, beneath the congratulations and the band, Agatha heard it. The all-too-familiar sound of a sledgehammer slamming against drywall.

  “Hold position.” Tony’s voice came over the radios—soft, commanding, confident.

  “I have eyes on,” Garrett said. “Will let you know when they’ve found the goods.”

  The band transitioned to a jazzy western swing, the bride and groom stepped to the side of the stage for more pictures with the giraffe, and the guests flooded the dance floor.

  An older woman and then a couple tried to enter the main lodge, but Agatha stepped forward and headed them off. “I believe what you’re looking for is over to the side of the pool.”

  There were easily accessible restrooms on the north side of the swimming area. An open bar and tables filled with food were positioned on the east side.

  As for the main lodge room where Tamara was creating chaos, large drapes had been pulled shut over the windows. No one noticed. All eyes were on the happy couple and the food and drinks.

  Agatha was starting to think that they were all misinformed, that Tamara wasn’t going to find a diamond necklace or gold spurs, and certainly not a jewel-studded Stetson. Then her radio crackled, and Garrett’s voice soft and urgent said, “They’ve found it. Let’s take them, Tony. Gina and Agatha, hold your position.”

  Agatha was aware of the front door of the lodge crashing open, but her attention was focused on the back. Gina had thrown open the back door and rushed inside.

  They weren’t supposed to open that door.

  They were supposed to hold their position.

  But Gina had a score to settle. Agatha dropped the dust pan, clutched the broom and followed her inside. Gina had rushed to Tamara’s side, attempted to grab the saddle bag she was holding, and was shouting in her face.

  “This? You left us for dead for this?”

  They looked to be engaged in a tug-of-war. Both had their teeth bared and Agatha thought they both looked somewhat frightening.

  The two guys who must have been Scooter and Cooter ran toward the back door, toward the wedding. Agatha stuck out the broom she’d been holding and tripped one, but the other burst through, into the wedding crowd. He might have made it, too. Might have darted through the guests and made it to the open prairie beyond. His mistake was drawing his weapon. A few guests apparently thought it was part of the wedding show. Others didn’t.

  Tony was trying to pull Gina away from the leather saddle bag, Garrett was attempting to cuff Tamara, and the cameraman Cooper Knox was fleeing out the front door.

  Scooter struggled to his feet, but he wasn’t quite steady yet. He slumped back to the floor, holding his head where a lump was rising. The saying the bigger they are the harder they fall seemed to apply in this instance. Agatha swiveled toward the back door to see if Scooter/Cooter—how did anyone tell them apart—had managed to get away.

  She didn’t see him fleeing.

  She saw him standing next to the pool, hands in the air, gun on the ground. And why would he do that? Because half a dozen wedding guests had pulled pistols and they were aimed directly at him.

  The bride marched over to where he stood, marched right in front of all those guns. “How dare you mess up my wedding.” And then she pushed him into the water.

  The splash was followed by two guests who jumped in, wrenched his arms behind his back, then frog marched him out of the water.

  “Where’s Cooter?” Scooter still wasn’t quite recovered from his close encounter with the floor.

  “He’s not going anywhere and neither are you.” Agatha waved the broom in front of him. Honestly, she wouldn’t have hit him, but Scooter seemed to think she had a swing rivaling that of a professional baseball player. He literally cowered away from her.

  “You can’t have that,” Tamara was screaming at Gina, who had managed to wrestle away the saddlebag. “That’s mine. It belongs to me. My uncle left it for me!”

  Garrett handcuffed her to a large Frederick Remington bronze sculpture of a cowboy riding a bucking horse. Then he took off after Tony, who was chasing Cooper Knox. Gina was still shouting at Tamara, Scooter was sitting on the floor holding his head in his hands, and Cooter was outside proclaiming his innocence.

  As for Agatha, she felt the almost overwhelming urge to laugh. It was over. It was finally over. And she and Gina and Tony and Garrett had lived to tell about it.

  She would be on her knees thanking the Lord for that, for the safety of her friends, for His provision, and
for wedding guests that came locked and loaded in case of an emergency.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The next two weeks passed in a blur for Agatha. Dewald’s crew agreed to come back and finish the job once they heard Kolbe’s killer was caught. Agatha had seen her doctor, who listened to her lungs and assured her that she was fine—no sign at all of farmer’s lung. He’d also told her that those cases were rare and happened in weatherproofed silos filled with grain. The one they’d been locked in had been neither.

  Things were definitely looking up. She walked through the sitting room, kitchen, and master suite.

  “Anything you’re unhappy with, let me know and I can have a crew back out tomorrow.” Derrick Dewald tugged on his baseball cap, stared at his clipboard, then smiled up at her. “Most excitement we’ve had on a job site since that seep hole opened up under Mayor Calvert’s deck.”

  “This all looks amazing.” Agatha walked back into the sitting room, spun in a circle, then pressed her hands to her apron. It felt good to be in Amish clothes again. It felt even better to have this project finished. “It’s more amazing than I envisioned, and thank you for taking care of Tamara’s damage to my other rooms.”

  “No problem. It’s great publicity for us. Our phones are ringing off the hook, folks wondering if they have treasures buried in their walls.”

  Gina hurried out of the kitchen and handed him a pie wrapped in a dish cloth. “Peach, and yes, they’re Fredericksburg peaches. Take it home to Debbie.”

  “You’re saying don’t eat it all?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And bring Debbie back to see your work.” Agatha followed him to the porch. “We’ll make lunch for you both.”

  “You got it.”

  As Derrick drove away, Tony walked up the porch steps.

  He peeked through the front door. “Construction done?”

  “Completely.” She smiled up at him. “You look as if you have news.”

  “I do.” He looked from her to Gina. “Garrett called me.”