“All the world isn’t interested, Lissie.” Jeremy smiled.
“I just mean that it makes things easy for people.” She twirled the can on the table.
“Including you.”
She laughed. “True. But I thought I saw someone going through the book last week, and when I went to look, the assessments were open to a page with my property on it.”
“That means nothing, Lissie. Don’t start imagining things.”
“Well, someone visited Zenia a number of times, because she told Kevin how nice it was to have visitors—me and a man Kevin thought was probably you.”
“Only that wasn’t me.”
Twenty-One
Felicity had a mental list of all she wanted to accomplish the next day and intended to get an early start after her chores. She headed out to post her signs soon after eight o’clock and worked for a couple of hours, mostly along the boundary shared with Sasha Glover’s property. Shadow had grown accustomed to following her through the woods and ran parallel with her as she walked, keeping her within sight and never wandering too far away. He seemed to be getting the hang of rural life, and she felt more confident in taking him with her as she worked.
When she felt she’d done enough posting, she put Shadow in the house and headed out to the Berkshire Nursing Home. On the drive she practiced what she’d say and how she’d say it, or try to, to get as much information as possible out of both Zenia Callahan and the nurses and aides. Someone was visiting Zenia, and Felicity wanted to know who it was, especially if that person was leading others to believe that he was associated with her. She found Zenia in the dining room at a table for six with two of her friends.
“Oh, do join us.” Zenia patted the chair seat next to her. “Another visitor,” she said to her friends. “I’ve never been so popular.” This to Felicity.
She seemed to have joined a conversation, and the flow of words continued. The other women included her in some comments, asking questions about her and her family and her farm, and then veering off into reminiscences. It was like talking to versions of her dad and his friends, only all female.
“And you came without your friend this time?” Zenia looked past Felicity at the doorway opening into the main hall.
“Which friend do you mean?” This was perhaps the only time she’d be able to ask the question that was the whole point of the trip without it seeming obvious. If Zenia understood there was some concern about one of her visitors, she could easily fall into a tizzy or grow suspicious and attract the attention of the nurses and aides, who hovered not far away.
“The tall one.” Despite her age, Zenia had a lovely youthful smile and the kind of looks that suggested what she might have been like as a young woman, sweet, lively, and pretty. But Felicity knew she might have been none of those things.
“The tall one? I have lots of tall male friends.”
One of the other women seemed to think this was just wonderful and launched into a tale of her partying days, as she called them. Zenia and the others listened patiently. When she finished, Zenia said, “The one who likes to hunt.”
That was no help at all, since almost everyone Felicity knew in West Woodbury did some hunting at some point in their lives. She decided to try something different. “The one with the beard?”
Zenia frowned. “No, I don’t think he had a beard. Did he have a beard, Melanie?” She turned to one of her friends.
“Just the mustache,” Melanie said. “Very trim and neat.” She turned to Felicity. “I like a man to be neat. None of this raggedy stuff. So popular once but I don’t care for it. My grandson has a ponytail almost as long as yours, but what can you do?”
Felicity knew a number of men with hair longer than hers, but at least she was getting more detail on the unnamed friend. Tall with a mustache, trim and neat.
“And such a sweet accent,” another woman tittered.
“And an accent?” Felicity didn’t think she knew anyone with an accent.
“A Pennsylvania accent.” This from Melanie.
Good god, thought Felicity. What is a Pennsylvania accent?
“I’m from Pennsylvania so I recognized it right away.”
“Oh, so he didn’t tell you he was from Pennsylvania?”
“Oh, no, dear, he lives around here,” Zenia said. “Maybe he was from there once but not now. He isn’t from there now, is he, Melanie?”
“No, no, he lives here. But you know who I mean, don’t you?” Melanie asked.
“Gee, that sounds like Jimmie,” Felicity said, grasping at the first name that came to mind.
“No, no, not Jimmie,” Zenia said. She looked confused and turned from one woman to the other for help. Maybe, Felicity thought, she wasn’t as mentally sound as Kevin thought.
“Francis?” Zenia said. “Was his name Francis, Melanie?”
Felicity could see the doubt spreading from woman to woman like a virus, creeping into their eyes and spreading down through their limbs. Hands pulled away from the table and crossed over laps, shoulders stiffened, and legs were uncrossed and feet pulled under chairs. If she didn’t do something at once, she might never have an open conversation with any of them again.
“Oh, Francis! Of course. I know who you mean,” she said, wondering if the name they really meant was Franklin. “I never think about his mustache. You know how you see someone day in and day out and you forget they wear glasses or they have a scar or something.”
“My cousin used to do exactly the same thing,” Melanie said. And the spell of suspicion was broken. Felicity gave a sigh of relief and settled in to listen to another hour of chatter and reminiscences. It wouldn’t do to bolt for home too soon.
After she left the dining room, Felicity stopped at the nurses’ station. Nearby was a wall of photographs of events and daily activities at the Berkshire Nursing Home. The photos included young children and pets, adult children of the guests, visiting performers, and others. They were colorful and numerous, overlapping and crowded onto the corkboard. Felicity began to examine each one.
A nurse approached and rested her index finger on a group photo. “Zenia’s right here. That was a fun afternoon. We had a group of student magicians here, and of course they could do no wrong, even when cards fell out of their shirtsleeves or little bunnies escaped down the hallway.”
Felicity murmured appreciation. “I was looking for my friend, Francis. Zenia said he’s visited a number of times.”
“Oh, Francis,” the nurse said. “He’s a dear. I haven’t seen him lately, but my shift changes every three weeks.” She withdrew into her professional persona. “I hope nothing’s happened to him. The guests enjoy him so much.”
“No, no, he’s fine,” Felicity was quick to reassure her.
“I’m glad to hear that. He’s always a delight.”
“I love that Melanie picked up on his Pennsylvania accent.” Felicity continued to inspect the photos, looking for a tall man with a mustache who was about the right age to be her friend, or anyone who looked familiar. She was getting the uncomfortable feeling that she might have seen the elusive Francis in the West Woodbury Town Hall perusing the printed list of property valuations.
“She’s originally from Pennsylvania, so she would.”
“I guess I don’t see Francis here,” Felicity said, stepping back. “I don’t know him terribly well, but I’m glad he took the time to visit Zenia. I didn’t realize he knew her.”
“It’s her son he knows. Helena visits often, and Sasha did too.” The nurse turned to the photos. “But Francis came in one day as a courtesy because he knew the family, at least the son. The son lives out of state, I think. Anyway, they hit it off and he kept on dropping by when he was in the area. He told the ladies he travels for work so he can’t always get here.”
“So his first visit would have been last year, maybe?”
; “No, longer ago than that. Maybe two years ago.” The nurse gave her a sharp look. “Is there some question about him?”
“I don’t know,” Felicity said. “Zenia seems to think he came with me. At least that’s what she told Chief Algren when he talked to her.”
“Yes.” The nurse nodded. “I spoke to the chief before I took him in to speak to her. If there’s some question here, we should know. I’ll check with her daughter about him. The guests love having visitors, but if this man isn’t who he says he is, then we need to know that.”
“I was hoping to find a picture of him,” Felicity said.
The nurse frowned and grew thoughtful, stepping away from Felicity. She moved to stand in front of the cork board and began scanning the photographs. “I thought he was in a few pictures, but I don’t seem to see him here. Sorry.”
Felicity thanked her and headed out to the parking lot. She had a lot to think about—a strange man called Francis who claimed to be a friend of the family, who had been visiting for two years. Apparently a friend of hers, although not someone who came with her. Felicity began to feel extremely uneasy.
She drove straight back to Tall Tree Farm. She went through her afternoon chores with only half of her attention. She liked Zenia and didn’t want to think the woman was being misled by a stranger who seemed to avoid the family, as well as Zenia’s other acquaintances, while giving others the impression that he was a friend of the family. She pondered this as she poured grain into a water pail. The jostling of the sheep told her she’d made a mistake. That brought her back to reality and she kicked herself for making extra work.
Making things worse, she turned on the television to distract herself later in the evening while heating up some leftover stew. Rumbling across her thoughts came the voice of the weatherman alerting viewers to a light snow overnight.
Damn, she whispered. She’d forgotten about the forecast.
She turned off the stove and went out to cover up the early crop of overwintered vegetables. She was so excited at the prospect of having something to deliver in April that the earlier reports of a chance of snow had slipped her mind. She pulled pine boughs over the rows of vegetables, working by the light of the barn motion detectors. The only comfort was knowing that she wasn’t the only farmer covering up early crops.
By the time she was ready for supper, close to midnight, Felicity had worked herself into a state of frustration and anxiety. She hurriedly heated a bowl of the stew, pacing the kitchen floor while she waited, and then rummaged in the cutlery drawer for a spoon. She leaned against the counter, fretting over the missteps she’d made during the last few days and eating carelessly with the bowl held close to her chest, when she realized that both the dog and cat were staring at her. Miss Anthropy pretended not to, opening one eye to peek at her every few seconds, but Shadow gaped blatantly, watching her and that bowl.
Twenty-Two
Early the following morning, Felicity took the last of her Posted signs and headed out to finish the job. Even though the late-night storm had left a small coating of snow throughout the area, she knew someone as determined as Kyle Morgan might have shown up to dig late at night, after his second job at the pizza joint. She wanted to make sure he hadn’t torn down any signs and had honored the boundary between the properties.
The frozen leaves crunched under her boots, and the clean cold air made her feel it was December again. Winter could be hard, but there were always moments of beauty and delight. She followed the deer tracks, noting a few prints here and there. Even though humans might jump at the first signs of spring, most other animals knew that nature was fickle and winter could return at any moment, even into May, with a freak spring snowstorm.
Felicity began walking the boundary along Sasha Glover’s plot, relaxing in the quiet and planning the rest of the day. She came over a small hill, scuffing the leaves beneath the light snow. And there her goodwill left her. Crossing in front of her was a single line of footprints.
She felt a rush of anger. She’d been as clear as she could possibly have been when telling Kyle to stay off her land. And he had ignored her. And thanks to the late snow, the evidence was right in front of her. She walked back a few feet, then crossed diagonally onto Sasha’s property. She could see the prints in the light snow leading back toward the entrance along the road. Walking parallel to the tracks, she eventually noticed a second set going into Sasha’s plot. Determined to know exactly what Kyle had been up to, she followed the track onto her property. The trail of footprints circled around and eventually turned uphill and headed northeast. She followed this until the walker turned back and headed southwest, back into Sasha’s lot.
The only good result was the absence of any more digging. Perhaps Kyle had decided it was too cold, or perhaps he wanted to scope out where he would work next. In any event, he’d circled a part of her property that seemed to interest him, and then left.
Felicity didn’t need to know what his plans were. She would get to him before he could lift another shovel. And this time he would know she meant business. She pulled out her cell and took a few photos.
She parked in the municipal lot across from Town Hall, right next to Jeremy’s truck. He rapped on her window before she could climb out of her pickup and held the door for her.
“This seems to be our life right now,” he said. “You’re coming in just as I’m going out.” He gazed at her and she knew they were thinking the same thing. He missed her and she missed him.
“I’m a bit wound up this morning,” she said. “I need comfort.”
“I’m your man.” He reached for her hand and rubbed her fingers between his. “So, what’s up?”
She told him about the footsteps on her land.
“You’re sure they’re Kyle’s?”
“When I confronted him he admitted he’d been digging, and then he tried to get me to go in on the search with him. He was willing to share the treasure when he found it.”
“Nice of him.” Jeremy laughed softly. “And I’m sure you agreed.”
“Oh, for sure. Anyway, this has to stop, so I’m here to see Kevin.”
“And you know what Kevin will say?”
Felicity rolled her eyes and relaxed against the pickup. “If I jumped to conclusions as often as Kevin thinks I do, I’d have a gold medal from the Olympics. Anyway, I need down time.”
“Tonight?”
“Definitely.” She brushed his hand with hers and headed into the police station.
Before she could greet Padma, she heard Kevin’s voice calling her into the office. She closed the door behind her and took a chair in front of his desk.
“I want to report a trespasser.” Felicity sat up on the edge of the chair to signal to Kevin that this was all business, serious business. “Aren’t you going to take notes?” she asked when he showed no signs of picking up a pen or turning on his computer.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“On Monday, I told Kyle Morgan to stay off my land. He was not to go digging on my property.” She waited for Kevin to ask a question.
“So?”
“So, he admitted he was digging and then he offered to share the treasure he found.” Felicity could feel herself getting worked up again. She was still furious beneath her natural reserve and calm. For some reason, tearing up the countryside was as bad as anything else she could think of. “And I told him to stay off my land in no uncertain terms.”
“Is your land posted?”
“It is now, along that boundary.”
Kevin shut his eyes, as if to gather strength.
“But this morning I went out there to make sure he hadn’t torn down the signs or simply ignored them, and I found his footprints walking onto my property and up part of a hill and over and back again. I specifically told him not to do that.”
“Were the prints fresh?”
�
�They were in the snow that fell last night. And I took a photo this morning.” She reached for her cell.
“You can’t be sure they were Kyle’s.”
“Kevin, come on. Whose else could they be? Kyle has been digging there and he admitted it.”
“The snow came down around three or four this morning.”
“Well, that makes sense. He was in there checking out where he was going to be digging before he went to work.”
“It wasn’t Kyle.”
“I know you think I’m jumping to conclusions because I didn’t actually see him, but he admitted he was doing it. And now I’ve caught him red-handed, or red-footed, if there is such a thing.”
“It wasn’t Kyle.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because Kyle Morgan died in a car accident last night, around two in the morning.”
“Oh. Jeez.” Felicity’s mouth fell open. “Oh, Kevin.”
“Exactly.”
Felicity sat in her pickup staring down into the center of West Woodbury, such as it was. Kevin’s news that Kyle was dead had sent her reeling. She’d somehow blamed the poor guy for all the ills that had befallen her, and now he was dead, one more victim of a murderer who cared nothing for people in search of she knew not what.
Kyle Morgan, the man who had been digging illegally on her property, the man she’d considered not good enough for Sasha Glover and whom Sasha’s mother had disliked and mistrusted, and the man Felicity suspected of poisoning Sasha, was dead. In a car crash.
She hadn’t said the obvious to the police chief, nor did Kevin even hint there was anything suspicious in the accident, but still, it was hard not to wonder at the coincidence. One plot of land passed down in a family and the last two owners had died unnatural deaths. Now the man who considered himself to be the third owner was also dead. Had he been telling people he was the owner now? Had he bragged about this to the wrong person? Had he offered someone else a partnership, just as he had offered one to her?
Below the Tree Line Page 20