Justice in Mystic Grove

by S F Bose

  “It went well. We have a new client,” I replied and smiled.

  “That’s our girl,” Grandma said.

  I sank my teeth into the BLT and sighed. Katie chuckled as I chewed happily. I took a bite of pickle.

  Katie was twenty-four and had a beautiful smile. Years ago, she had started dying her auburn hair blonde. She shared our family’s pale skin and blue eyes. In addition to being the more creative sister, Katie was an extroverted people person.

  As children, we had bonded as the two youngest in the family. We also united in our ongoing battle against our older siblings, Brian and Becky. Katie was both my sister and my best friend.

  I grinned at her. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

  “Me too,” she replied and smiled. “I enjoyed traveling down south and taking photographs, but after a while I was ready to come home. I missed you, Sis.”

  “Same here, squirt,” I replied and she laughed.

  Katie was an artist and photographer. She recently returned from a months-long trip through the southern U.S., taking photographs with a friend. Katie had enjoyed gallery exhibits of her photography, collage art, and fabric art in Madison and Chicago.

  “Your mother mentioned that you did some teaching during your travels. Is that true?” Nana Anna asked.

  Katie nodded. “I did. I offered some collage workshops for a gallery in North Carolina. They have a separate art education group that’s very popular. I ended up doing that for a month and enjoyed it.”

  “You do know Mom’s going to want you to teach art at the university, now,” I commented as I ate a forkful of coleslaw. Everyone laughed. As a retired professor, Mom wanted all of us to teach at the university. Our older brother Brian was the only child who had followed her into teaching.

  “She probably will but I value my sanity too much,” Katie replied and laughed.

  Raised voices made me turn my head in time to see Chloe jump up and hurry out of the dining room. Neville stared after her and then dropped his head into his hands.

  “Uh oh,” I murmured. “I hoped Neville was the one.”

  “He does seem like a nice young man,” Grandma Addie agreed in a hushed voice.

  Katie craned her head to see Neville. “How long have they dated?”

  I shrugged. “Four or five months, maybe longer. I’m not sure. He’s had a calming influence on Chloe. If they break up, she’ll be grumpy again.” I finished the last of my sandwich and drank some coffee.

  “No, Chloe will throw herself into her work at the shop, if they parted ways,” Grandma commented. “She’s a workaholic.”

  Chloe and Olivia owned and operated THE Herb Shop in Mystic Grove. They created and sold herbal health and beauty remedies. Olivia made some of the herbal products with our great grandmother, Bridey Shaw. They also stocked the shop with natural products made by a network of trusted herbalists and small herbal companies. Chloe was the business and marketing genius who always looked for ways to improve and promote their shop.

  Nana Anna swiveled around to glance at Neville. After a few seconds, she turned back. “I’m sure it’s just a spat and they’ll be fine,” she commented, taking a sip of tea.

  “I hope so,” I replied.

  “I have good feelings about both of them,” Nana Anna said.

  “Well that’s a good omen for them, then,” Grandma replied and smiled at her sister. Nana Anna chuckled.

  “I have a question for both of you.” I said, looking from Nana Anna to Grandma Addie.

  Nana Anna’s blue eyes twinkled. “What’s that, dear?”

  “I know it was a long time ago, but do either of you remember back in 1995 when a woman and her two kids disappeared in a sailboat accident on Lake Michigan? The husband was on board the boat. He worked as a county deputy sheriff.”

  Grandma and Nana Anna frowned and looked at each other.

  “Sharon Meagher and her children,” Nana said.

  “Such a terrible tragedy,” Grandma replied.

  Nana Anna nodded. “It may have been twenty years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a huge news event in Mystic Grove because everyone knew the family.”

  “The mother and children disappeared?” asked Katie. Her eyebrows had darted up in surprise.

  Grandma nodded. “They did. Sharon and her young daughter and son were lost in the lake and never found.”

  Katie looked stricken. “That’s terrible!”

  “Liz, why are you asking about the Meagher tragedy?” Nana Anna asked.

  I sighed. “Well, I can’t go into a lot of details, but it relates to the new client we got today. In order to help that client, I’d like to better understand what happened with Steven Meagher in 1995.”

  Nana Anna glanced at Grandma and Grandma stared at me. Finally, Grandma Addie nodded. “Anna is correct. Despite happening twenty years ago, it feels like it happened yesterday.”

  “What happened exactly?” Katie asked me.

  “This is the story I heard today. Back in 1995, Steven Meagher took his wife and two small children sailing on Lake Michigan. He didn’t check the weather before leaving dock. He had a radio but said he didn’t hear any weather alerts or warnings. He sailed the boat into a bad storm with high winds. When the Coast Guard found him the next day, he was lying below deck in the cabin and was dazed. He told them a wave washed his wife overboard. Then he fell and was knocked out. The last he remembered, his two children were in the cabin below.”

  “But they weren’t?” asked Katie.

  I shook my head. “They must have been washed overboard too. The Coast Guard found three life vests in the lake.”

  Katie turned even paler than usual. “How tragic!”

  “Is that the story you heard?” I asked Grandma and Nana Anna. Both of them nodded.

  “That’s what they reported,” Grandma agreed.

  “What was your question, Liz?” asked Nana Anna.

  I cleared my throat. “I had a couple, actually. Did people think it was an accident or that Steven Meagher had killed his family?”

  Nana Anna nodded. “Many people thought there had been foul play. Steven Meagher was hot-tempered and drank too much. Sharon Meagher had called the police on her husband more than once because of domestic problems. However, even his in-laws said that he loved his children. They found it hard to believe he would have harmed them.”

  “I do remember they said he was overcome with grief when they told him the children were gone too,” said Grandma.

  “Okay. My other question was about his drinking. You said Meagher drank too much,” I said, glancing at Nana Anna. “I heard there were rumors that Meagher brought alcohol on board and had been drinking that day. Do you remember hearing that?”

  Nana Anna and Grandma Addie both nodded.

  “Yes,” Nana Anna replied. “A lot of people thought he had been drunk on the boat.”

  I sipped some coffee and leaned forward. “The thing is I also heard there was nothing in the official police report about any alcohol on board.”

  “Liz, people in Mystic Grove who knew the family were skeptical about the final report. The sheriff in another county was in charge of the investigation. Since Steven Meagher was a deputy sheriff in our county, many thought the investigation wasn’t as aggressive as it might have been,” Grandma said.

  Nana Anna put her hand on my arm and said in a low voice, “People thought the fix was in. They never even tested Meagher’s blood alcohol levels. That upset many people. It was a shoddy investigation.”

  We all sipped our drinks.

  “You know, you should talk to Harley and Edith,” Grandma said suddenly.

  “And Sue Barlow,” Nana added.

  “Yes, Sue would be very helpful,” Grandma agreed.

  “Who are they?” I asked. Grandma Addie and Nana Anna both looked surprised.

  “Why Lizzie, Harley and Edith Hill are Sharon Meagher’s parents. Sue Hill Barlow is Susan’s sister,” Grandma Addie replied.


  Surprise crackled through me. “Really? I never thought the family might still live here. I haven’t researched them yet.”

  “They all moved to Cross Plains after Harley and Edith sold their farm,” Nana Anna replied. Cross Plains was a fifteen-minute drive from Mystic Grove.

  “Did they move there right after their daughter and grandchildren disappeared?” I asked.

  “Oh goodness no. They moved four…maybe five years ago,” Grandma replied.

  I stared at my grandmother. “So the Hill family and Steven Meagher all stayed in the same area after this tragedy? Isn’t that strange?” Grandma and Nana looked at each other and then at me.

  “It’s not really strange,” Grandma replied. “I doubt they saw each other often. The Hills lived on their farm west of the village and Meagher lived in the village. They attended different churches. Also, Harley and Edith were doing well farming. I think it would have been hard for them to sell out and move.”

  I leaned forward. “Do you remember talking to the Hills and their daughter, Sue, about Sharon and the children?”

  Addie and Anna both frowned. As sisters, they sometimes reacted like one person.

  Nana Anna said, “I know we talked to Edith. We drove out to their farm several times and brought them casseroles so Edith wouldn’t have to cook. After that, we sat and talked.”

  “Was Harley there?” I asked.

  Nana nodded. “He was. He sat with us but didn’t say much. Edith did most of the talking.”

  “What did Edith say about the accident?”

  “She was inconsolable because the Coast Guard hadn’t found the bodies. Friends drove Harley and Edith out to the lake every day for a week,” said Grandma Addie.

  Grandma nodded. “They went to the Coast Guard station hoping for a miracle and never got one.”

  “Oh God how awful,” Katie said. I glanced at my sister and saw tears in her eyes.

  “It was awful,” Nana Anna agreed. “Both Edith and Harley grew increasingly angry. They were both convinced Steven had hurt Sharon and the children.”

  Grandma Addie looked pained. “It got worse. The sheriff in the other county told them they found no evidence that Steven Meagher harmed anyone. Then the Coast Guard eventually said they had to stop searching.”

  “The family must have been devastated,” I said.

  “They were,” Grandma agreed.

  Nana Anna said softly, “They held a memorial service for Sharon and the children at the Lutheran church. It was very emotional, as you‘d expect. Then Edith, Harley, and their daughter, Sue, went away to spend time with family up north. Some local men took care of their farm while they were gone.”

  “Did Steven Meagher go to the memorial service?” I asked.

  Grandma shook her head. “No, he did not. He wouldn’t have been welcome.”

  “What happened when Harley, Edith, and Sue came back home?” I asked.

  “Harley went back to farming, of course. After a while, Edith started coming to the Women’s Club meetings again,” Grandma said.

  “And the quilting club,” Anna added. “She seemed calmer after getting away.”

  “Did she ever say anything more about the accident or Meagher?” I asked

  Nana Anna nodded. “One time when we were quilting, she said she knew Meagher was guilty as sin but couldn’t prove it. So she had decided to leave it in God’s hands.”

  “I think that decision gave her some peace,” Grandma said.

  I thought about the remaining daughter. “What about Sue? Did you talk to her about it?”

  Grandma shook her head. “No! Never. Sue was in complete shock over the loss of Sharon. They were both very close and Sue took the loss hard. Her parents shielded her as much as they could. After they returned from staying with relatives, she moved back home with her parents. Eventually, she met Leon at a church dance, fell in love, and they got married. Leon built a house for them on the Hill property. Then he helped Harley around the farm. I believe he had a separate business too.”

  “It sounds like they wanted to stay as close to each other as they could,” Katie said.

  “They did,” Nana Anna agreed.

  I shook my head. “I’m surprised Meagher stayed in Mystic Grove. So many people must have hated him.”

  “Many people did,” Nana Anna agreed.

  “That poor family,” Katie said dabbing her eyes with a napkin. “Liz, are you trying to prove the husband killed them?”

  I shook my head. “No, we’re investigating him for something else. I’m just trying to get a better handle on him.”

  Katie shook her head. “I think you should do something safer, like teach at the university.”

  We all laughed. Conversation returned to more cheery subjects.

  Later, when Katie and I left the B&B, she said, “I don’t know how you can do this for a living.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “It’s to find the truth and maybe help to stop this guy from hurting other people.”

  Katie just shook her head. “It’s dangerous work, Liz. I don’t want you to get hurt. Can’t you just quit this case?”

  “No.” I replied, looking at the ground as we walked. “But the contract only runs for thirty days. If we don’t find concrete evidence that Meagher’s involved in something illegal, that should be the end of our involvement.”

  “Thirty days is a long time,” Katie said quietly.

  I threw my arm around her shoulders and hugged her. There was nothing else I could say or do to reassure my sister.

  Running out of time. That phrase kept repeating in my mind. Maybe I was spending too much time researching what happened to the Meagher family in 1995. I realized later how I wrong I had been about those words.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning I left for work early, taking Farm Road to Mystic Road and driving southeast. I was half-awake, hungry, and cranky. I smiled when I saw the village, though. My first view of the village was always the water tower and church steeples rising above the trees in the distance. It was a nice way to start the day.

  Mystic Grove retained the character of its nineteenth century farming community beginnings. It was home to old churches, historic houses, cobblestone walks, brick paths, covered bridges, and loads of green space. In the historic district, vintage homes from the 1800s now housed many of the shops and restaurants that attracted tourists to the village all year long. While some nearby towns and villages had withered and sometimes died, Mystic Grove had reinvented itself and thrived thanks to tourism.

  As I entered the village, I stopped at the intersection of Mystic, Pond, and Bridge Roads and waited for the traffic light to change to green. The junction of those three roads divided the Mystic Creek historic district into six segments. Each segment contained unique shops, art galleries, antique stores, coffee shops, specialty bakeries, and restaurants. In warmer weather, the village offered extensive flower gardens, festivals, and outdoor concerts.

  Most of the downtown area was limited to foot traffic, which added to its charm. Tourists parked in large municipal parking lots on the perimeter of the historic district. They then walked the short distance to downtown Mystic Grove. Some businesses did have leases that allowed for very small parking areas, but most people preferred the municipal lots.

  When the light changed, I sped across the intersection and turned left into the segment that housed the Bowman Building, where I worked.

  After parking Lulu in my designated space, I decided to get breakfast at the Farmhouse Café. I grabbed my messenger bag and locked the car. Sam’s Jeep wasn’t in the parking space next to mine so he must be running late.

  Crossing Bridge Road, I followed the path toward the Farmhouse Café. It was a cool day and drizzling. I ducked my head and jammed my hands into the pockets of my gray field jacket. Despite wearing a heavier sweater and pants, I was chilled. As I walked, I felt the reassuring pressure of my Glock 19 in the sticky holster on my hip. I used to carry two guns, but Sam convinced m
e to retire my pocket gun.

  I passed the Saucy Shop on my right and glanced inside. Laurent Trahan, the owner, sold many different sauces, seasonings, and rubs. At the moment, he was stocking a shelf. Laurent was a colorful man in his fifties and had a melodic Louisiana accent. He favored a shaved head, gray beard, and mustache. When he turned, we both smiled and waved. It shocked me to see that Laurent had shaved his winter beard and looked ten years younger.

  The Antiques Emporium, owned by Peter and Martha Church sat on my left. It was a big Victorian house filled with antiques and collectibles. The Churches had lost their son, Justin, during the winter. Sam and I helped to solve his murder case. It was still hard to believe Justin was gone.

  Eclectic Gifts stood north of the Emporium. They sold artisan-made candles, ceramics, jewelry, and decorative items for the home.

  I stopped abruptly and sniffed. Bacon! I turned right and followed the wonderful scent to the Farmhouse Café. It was a large restaurant with two dining rooms, a gift shop, and a view of Mystic Pond. When I entered the café, door chimes sounded off. I stood in the small gift shop at the front of the restaurant.

  Abbie Quinn, the owner of the Farmhouse Café, walked toward me from the dining rooms in the back. When she saw me, she smiled.

  “Liz Bean!”

  “Hi Abbie, how are you?”

  “I’m as happy as a tick on a big, fat dog,” she replied and I laughed. “How are you?” she asked.

  “Barely awake, Abbie,” I replied and we hugged. She was as tall as I was, so hugging was easy.

  Abbie was an extrovert and one of my favorite people. We’d gone to grade school and high school together. She still wore her long red hair pulled back in a ponytail with blunt cut bangs. In high school, I had briefly dated her older brother, Otto. Now she dated my older brother, Brian.

  “How’s Brian?” I asked and watched her blush.

  “He’s fine. After he grades final exams, we’re hoping to take a short trip to Chicago.” Brian taught history at the university.

  “That’s great! Have I told you lately how happy I am the two of you are together?”

  “You tell me that every time you see me, Liz, and I love you for it. You all make me feel like a part of the family.”