by Judith Mehl
With luck, she’d get handwriting samples of all the workers that day. Kat also had Agatha’s permission to look through some of the farm’s orders and hoped to find further samples on the paperwork that she could analyze. She promised to make copies of everything she took and replace them in the same locations so the farm’s records would be safe. Too much to do and too little time. I’ll call in Maddy. She texted an SOS and begged for help.
Maddy called her. “I was heading back to Ted’s. He’ll think my whole life is helping you solve crimes.”
“Lucky for him we do that sort of thing so well, right?”
The hint reminded Maddy that Kat had saved Ted from jail, and it convinced her friend to meet at the farm.
Drifting toward the packing sheds, Kat noticed the pungent scent of mixed herbs. It overwhelmed her senses. She hoped to win over Carmelita and Dave first. They handled the bulk of the extra work. When Maddy arrived, Kat urged her to look around the house while she spoke with these two first. As head growers they would provide access to the others, and would know most of the farm’s operations. They managed the farm and could contribute insight into the others and possible motives for harming the two owners.
When Kat introduced herself and asked if she could speak with them about Agatha, Dave was more than pleased to drop what he was doing. Carmelita did, too, and voiced question after question about their boss and friend.
“Where is she?” was overridden by those who asked, “Is she okay?”
Motioning for them to continue their work, Kat answered. “She’ll be fine.”
She studied the woman and then the man, while they completed their tasks. She enjoyed watching them interact. Carmelita didn’t look like an angel, her dark hair swirling around her heart-shaped face in come-hither waves, but she looked heavenward with anticipation, as if to say, “Halo, where are you?”
Maybe it was a trick she used to control Dave. She could see Carmelita bothered Dave in more ways than one. Kat watched him as he set up some chairs around a table in the yard between the barns and the house. When he finished she approached him.
“I’m not going to say anything nasty about my friends,” he blurted.
Kat glanced at Carmelita to make sure she was far enough away not to overhear.
Dave growled, “And especially not Carmelita. She always irks me with her universal kindness to all, without caring about their worthiness, but though it worries me, it means she’s a good person, not a bad one.”
Kat just stared at him, hoping he’d vent more.
He did. “I wonder how she was raised that she could combine that gorgeous body with the heart of a saint and not even know she drove men to distraction? It’s not just the thirty-something hot-headed ones who lust after her. Old men doddering past with their canes even stumble to a halt to cop an extra look. Carmelita just flicks her wrist in a friendly salute and offers a gamin grin. She’s always friendly. It might get her killed one day.”
“So you’re saying she couldn’t possibly be the killer?”
He jerked upright, letting a chair drop. “No way.”
Carmelita signaled Kat that she would find the others.
Dave said, “I think Carmelita’s openness with strangers while there’s an unknown murderer around might backfire.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bad guys use whoever they can to salvage their hides. If Carmelita got between them and a bullet they wouldn’t exactly push her to the floor.”
“I’ll do anything I can to help end this,” Kat promised and handed him Agatha’s get well card.
He signed the card and passed along his best wishes. As the others gathered around to offer their thoughts on the frightening circumstances, Dave stepped back and watched.
Kat perceived only kindness and concern from the others. She obtained sentences from each, greetings for Agatha, and help in finding the latest records she requested. Carmelita had pulled her aside. We can go in the side door and I’ll get the records you asked for.”
Kat stashed the box in the car and attempted a different perspective, just studying faces and nuances, while Maddy walked the card around and chatted with everyone. Maddy could flirt before she could talk and liked everyone she met. Kat stepped back, an onlooker by choice. She was seeking a killer.
Brad, the rough-hewed handyman, seemed the least aggressive yet the most unyielding, shyness or discomfort keeping him off to the side as the others gathered. His eyes appeared elusive, but his message to Agatha exuded charm and friendliness. “You tell that sweet lady that we all wish her well.” Kat wished she knew which was the true man, determined to analyze his handwriting later.
Charlie, lean with skin tanned like leather, dragged himself from the fields reluctantly, wiped his dirty hands on a clean rag pulled from his back pocket, and asked kindly about Agatha. Kat knew that Charlie worked for Margaret Kinney and her husband, George, for years and stayed to help Agatha.
Maddy handed her the greeting card, overflowing with notes for Agatha. “Task completed. I’m heading back to Ted now,” she said with defiance in her glare. She issued a formal salute and left.
Kat turned as Carmelita rushed over to her and suddenly stopped. She lowered her eyes and mumbled, “I love your shoes.”
Kat realized the young woman wasn’t acting shy; she was staring at her new leather sandals. “They’re Robert Clorgeriei’s Pepo style. I bought them at Barney’s warehouse sale,” she said, lifting her foot and twisting her ankle to show off every aspect.
Carmelita sighed. “I try to buy the style without the brand name. I searched the local shoe stores for anything resembling his Ekora with no luck.”
Kat sympathized. “I know what you mean. Even with the sale these were $100. Way too much for a pair of sandals. I look at them as a holiday weekend on my feet.”
Kat handed her a list of chores that Agatha had provided. “Carmelita could you dole out the tasks, asking if they could manage the extra work just for a few more days?”
Charlie nodded willingly when he got his list, and shared it with his son. He pulled Kat aside for a second. “You asked before if we knew anyone who would harm Margaret. We couldn’t think of anyone. Did you check with that kid that used to hang around here when George was still alive?”
Kat was startled. “What kid?”
“I don’t remember his name. I got the feeling he was related to George. Never liked him.” He headed back to the fields but shouted over his shoulder, “You check him out. Mean kids make mean men.”
Kat filed it in her mental ‘talk with the cops’ folder, and asked the boys to start loading the car with the boxes of herbs for the store.
The teenage twins, Curt and Caleb, shuffled their feet in cadence. Acne on their smooth faces and their spiked hair attested to their youth, but their bulging biceps explained why they served as Agatha’s favored packers. They shifted the boxes into Kat’s car, filling the trunk and the back seat. Kurt had thrown a clean carpet remnant over the back seat to protect it first, while Caleb mumbled apologies for the makeshift situation.
Chapter 14
Dotting lower case ‘i’s with slashes going down reveals someone who is temperamental and restless.
Irving’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel to no rhythm. He had parked off the road behind trees in hopes of watching herb farm activity without being seen. The trees and shrubs that hid him also obstructed his view. He crept out of the car, stumbled down a hill and knelt behind a shrub. His line of sight improved, but he still wasn’t sure what was happening in the fields. After a part crouch and part shuffle, with scratched pant legs and muddy shoes, he saw a young woman travel through the group of workers near the farm house, chatting and smiling.
The lady strutted around in high heels, her long legs eating up the distance, while she casually brushed her blond hair behind one ear. What he didn’t understand was how he had mud all over his shoes and she seemed to only strike hard ground with every step, keeping her shoes
and shapely ankles unsoiled. He saw her direct the loading of herbal supplies into a car and realized she might be able to lead him to Agatha Hartman. He heard a man shout something about the herb shop. If this lady was connected to both places, she must know where Hartman was.
He’d watched the Hartman’s house, often for hours at a time, but she must have moved out. He gave up on that, and over the course of a few days, drove by numerous times and saw no signs of life there. Just about the time he realized that, he also realized the cops drove by frequently. Maybe she’d moved to the herb farm to hide. She had to have found the bouquet and the message. I need just one last chance to follow through on my threat. She had to be somewhere. He came up with a new plan to check out the herb farm and shop. He’d started at the farm and got a lucky break at last.
At least this broad better be it. With that creepy developer breathing down his neck every chance he got. Turned mean the last time. Sure, ‘just call me Smiley.’ Huh! Some smile. The guy didn’t even fake it that time.
Now here he was, crawling in the muck. He scrambled back up the hill to find his car before that lady took off without him. He almost slammed his finger in the car door but managed to catch up before she drove off toward town and all that traffic.
How was he to know it would come to this? It was all the developer guy’s fault. Why’d I arrange a meeting with the man before I had the property in hand I don’t know. Well, he snickered, it could have been the ad for Aruba in the Sun. That cactus national park didn’t hold much appeal, but the Thursday night street parties could be a blast. Maybe he’d finally find some women to appreciate him. Yeah! Some of that lovely appreciation would be just fine.
First, he’d have to find the Hartman broad.
Irving trailed far behind the lady leaving the herb farm with the supplies. She drove directly to Bittersweet Herbs. That didn’t surprise him. He waited patiently for her next stop. Well, he thought he was being patient. He barely resisted the urge to swipe at the dirt on his pants. He’d parked directly in front of the store to see through the plate glass window. A trip inside would be too risky. He wanted no one to know of the existence of Irving Brantley until he could sweep in and make his claim.
Thank God he hadn’t given his name to the honcho who set him up with the developer guy. Now, that developer, he never moved without a goon and a gunman nearby. Time was running out. Something told him the man had a short leash. No way was he going to hear the Irving Brantley name from me. I’m too smart. Gave him a fake as smooth as you please.
He drummed his fingers again on the steering wheel. His psychologist warned him to take note and realize what this meant. So he did. He was rattled. He couldn’t get rattled now. Too much was at stake. Breathe.
Fumbling for a cigarette, he realized what a stupid idea it was when he was trying to deep breathe. It was becoming difficult to think. Hell, I can smoke when I want. He lit one and hoped the nicotine would help him calm down. His nerves were shot and he didn’t even know if this woman, moving from farm to shop would solve his problem. What made him think she knew where Agatha was? He needed to find that old lady soon. He had to hope this new woman would lead him there.
Someone knocked on his window. My God, I almost cracked my head on the roof. What does she want? He didn’t even temper his curses as he rolled down the window. He forgot for a minute that he was lurking and let his anger rip. Dumb move.
“I’m sorry. I hurt my head. What do you want?”
Okay. A little more polite. Hope that threw off any suspicion.
He crushed out the cigarette. Some help that was.
He stuck his head out the window and surveyed the woman, from the weird frog pin in her lapel to her clunker shoes and long skirt, and waited to see how she’d respond. She sniffed and answered. As if she was the queen and she was ready to lope off his head. “I saw you sitting here for a long time. Thought I’d better find out what you needed. Can I help you?”
Whew, that wasn’t too bad. Lot less royal, too. He grabbed some change from the drink holder and motioned to it. “Just scrounging up some money to go buy a cup of coffee. Forgot my wallet.”
He motioned to the door and she moved to let him onto the sidewalk. As he got out he banged his hand on the door jamb and dropped some of the coins onto the carpet. He was always a klutz. This time it helped though. He used it as an excuse, since the weird old lady with more frogs pinned all over her hat, wouldn’t leave.
“I almost have enough.” He bent down and picked up the coins he dropped and pulled a few more from under the seat. He started a slow count, hoping she’d get the hint. She finally stepped back. The woman has a rod for a back. I’ll give her credit for that. No wonder she acts like a drill sergeant.
He got to the last coin. “Ah, that should do it.” He looked up.
She looked away for a minute, nodded, and went into the shop.
Who the heck was that? Maybe someone else who might know that Hartman troublemaker. This is getting too complicated. He got back in the car. His jaw worked jerkily. He had to find her. He couldn’t see a thing inside the shop. Damn reflection. What now. Even his nondescript Chevy would eventually draw attention parked around here for so long. That young broad had to leave soon or he’d be caught. How could he see what was going on inside? First, he swung his legs out of the car and surreptitiously brushed off as much dirt as he could. With any luck the woman wouldn’t leave while he was gone. He’d make a stop at the cafe further down, grab that cup of coffee, and wander back taking a good look inside as he passed the herb shop. He made it back in record time.
Good idea. Until he saw the woman from the herb farm for a second. She walked to the back of the store out of sight. He hustled into the car. She drove out of the parking lot onto a back alley. The coffee spilled in the haste to get out his keys. He followed far behind her car.
She pulled into a driveway of a house on a secluded side lot. He could see exhaustion slumping her shoulders. Either that or she was searching for her keys in her pocket. He was too tired to care. What should I do now? He was sure she took no notice of his dark sedan as he slid past and parked further up the road. A few minutes later, before he’d done anything foolish and left the car, a big broad-shouldered guy parked in the drive and walked in the side door.
No way this woman would lead him to Hartman tonight.
Chapter 15
The intricate network of strokes and the innumerable variations in some of the simple details in angle and stroke thickness show signs of a potential for dangerous antisocial behavior. At the least, someone who doesn’t know who he is or how to act.
Katharine, dragged from the depths of a balmy dream, killed the alarm clock with a backhand slice that sent it across the room before she realized the incessant sound was the phone. She grabbed it reflexively.
“I was just on the beach in the Caribbean. This better be good,” she mumbled as she knocked over the lamp in a half-hearted attempt to see if she was speaking in the right end of the phone.
“Sorry, Katharine. Zip back to reality. This is the police.”
“Umm, Burrows. Nick was out of town last night so this was my one morning to sleep in. I’m awake now. What do you want?”
He told her the new information Detective Hill brought in regarding Rosalin’s bouquet. Once they found the note and related flowers they began to look at her death in a new way. Though final tests weren’t in, there was already suspicion of murder. Now they enclosed the bouquet and related information in their loop. In a neighborhood canvas they learned that a young boy on a bike had swooped into the yard, pulled the bouquet out of a paper bag and dropped it on Rosalin’s front steps. He took off quickly. The elderly lady two doors down remembered it because she thought it was romantic. It wasn’t even a holiday, she’d said.
Awake now, Katharine forced her tongue to function and asked a few questions.
“Didn’t they canvas the area before?”
“Yeah, but they never dreamt to ask about t
he bouquet. To the police, it appeared to be a dead vase of flowers.”
“You woke me to tell me this why?”
He laughed. “I never thought I’d hear you question why I’m giving you information. It’s usually the opposite. I just thought you might want to push forward your review of the flowers, and their meanings. Our guys aren’t quite up on that old Victorian message system you were talking about.”
“Thanks, I’ll manage somehow. By the way, what time is it? I just fatally wounded my clock.”
Chocolate cake was needed and Kat knew just who to bribe with it. Maddy was still on her leave of absence from Mountain View University. A leave from chocolate cake? That would never happen. There was no one better to share the cake with and discuss handwriting analysis. She’d served as her sidekick for years in mystery solving via handwriting analysis. Her love life with Ted wouldn’t hold precedence over that. Well, adding the chocolate cake as an incentive might help.
Taking just enough time to set out some chicken to thaw and check the vegetable bin for needed supplies for her own version of Spanish rice, Kat changed into her more comfortable Italian black kidskin pumps. She texted Maddy a reminder and headed for their favorite place, the Crystal Cavern. It offered more in the way of chocolate delicacies than any other local restaurant, plus, it had been their place for years. No need to stop that just because Maddy was on hiatus from campus life.
They each ordered a slice of Chocolate Decadence cake and Kat spread out the writing samples.
“No, ‘How have you been, Maddy?’ or ‘Anything interesting happening, Maddy?’”
Kat relaxed, sat back a little and laughed. “What’s been happening, Maddy? Engaged or married?”
“Whoa, you don’t need to leap that far!”