by Kathi Daley
“Okay,” Bree said. “That sounds like a reasonable plan. Do you think you can get more out of Mike?”
“I think he’s told me what he can for the time being. We’ll do what we can to gather information tomorrow, then wait to see what happens on Friday. Maybe the judge will let Donny go and we can take a step back to let the police do their job.”
“That would be best,” Bree admitted. “Although I own a bookstore and love to read, especially mysteries, I’ve never once had the desire to investigate a real-life mystery.”
“It could be interesting,” I countered.
“Or dangerous.”
“We might pick up some new skills.”
“Or end up dead.”
I paused and looked at Bree. “You do remember you’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place.”
“I know. And I do. I guess I’m just nervous. I mean, a man is dead and someone killed him. What if the real killer finds out we’re trying to prove Donny is innocent? Wouldn’t that make us a threat to whoever shot Pike in the back?”
Bree had a point. “For now, let’s just engage people in conversation and see where that leads us.”
“Do you think we should try to figure out whether Pike actually had any cash and, if he did, if it’s missing?”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a look around Pike’s cabin. The door was open the last time I was there, although the police might have locked it. Though there’s a small, ground-level window in the cellar that had a broken lock.”
“How do you know the lock was broken?” Bree asked.
“Pike told me so when we spoke a while back. If it’s still broken, we can probably get in that way.”
“When should we go?” Bree asked.
I looked out the window. The most recent storm system had yet to arrive. “I’m thinking now. The bar is open, so the parking lot should be packed and our car won’t stand out. And it’s dark, so we can sneak around to the back if we need to.”
Bree stood up. “Okay, let’s do this.”
“Do you want to change first?”
Bree was wearing a bright red sweater, a black wool skirt, and knee-high leather boots. “I’m fine. I’ll grab my coat.”
“Do you at least want to change your shoes?”
Bree looked down at the tip of one of her pointed toes. “I’m fine. These boots are plenty warm enough.”
I shrugged. I seriously don’t understand why anyone would wear high-heeled boots in the snow, but Bree always wore high heels and she seemed to manage okay. “We’ll need a flashlight.”
“I have a couple,” Bree said. She paused and looked me in the eye. “Be honest: Do you think this is a good idea?”
I shrugged. “Probably not, but it’s an idea and right now it’s the only one we have. I want to stop by my place to drop off Tilly and Tang. You can ride along with me and I’ll bring you back here when we’re done.”
******
I was right about the lot being jammed, but I found a place to park near the back, and Bree and I slid out of the Jeep and into the inkiness of the night. We first headed to the front door, but, as we suspected, it was locked, so we went around to the back and slipped in through the cellar window. Inside, it was completely dark, so we clicked on our flashlights. The cellar was below ground except for a row of small windows close to the ceiling, which was on the same level as a row of shrubs outside. They hid the windows, so I wasn’t worried about someone nearby seeing our light.
It appeared Pike had used the cellar for storage. The walls were roughly finished, the floor a slab of cement. There were rows of shelves, the open kind, most stacked with emergency supplies such as canned goods, flashlights, flares, and blankets. I suppose having them made sense, especially for someone who’d been around as long as Pike. Even now, when a strong storm blew through town, there was a tendency for the electricity to go off and the roads to close.
“What are we looking for?” Bree asked as she ran a finger over a dusty surface, cringing slightly as she did so.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I can buy the fact that Pike had a bunch of cash and that he hid it in the house. We both know he didn’t trust banks. Even if Donny’s innocent, theft seems to me to be as good a motive as any.”
“Of course, if that’s true, and Pike did have cash his killer took, it won’t be here to find,” Bree pointed out.
“True. But we can look for a clue that indicates something that was recently here is now missing.”
“Something like an empty drawer, slashed mattress or, better yet, an empty safe?”
“Exactly. We should also look for correspondence. Pike didn’t get a lot of mail other than a few bills, but there could still be a clue in the items he did receive.”
“Did Pike ever get mail of a personal nature? Maybe birthday or Christmas cards?” Bree asked.
“No. Never. At least until recently.” I frowned. It suddenly occurred to me that the letter I’d delivered was most likely still lying on the floor just inside the front door. I made a mental note to look for it when we went upstairs.
“Do you remember if Pike received any bank statements? Just because he didn’t put his money in the local bank doesn’t mean he didn’t have a savings account somewhere else.” Bree began opening and closing the drawers in an old hutch that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years.
“Not offhand, but I’d be willing to bet he kept the mail he received stashed somewhere. He seemed to be the sort to hang on to things.” I looked around the cluttered room. “I don’t know how we’re going to find anything in this mess.”
“What about the boxes against the wall? There could be something important in one of them,” Bree suggested.
“Let’s look in them before we go upstairs.”
As it turned out, most of the boxes held old clothes and household items, but we also found four large metal trunks. All had combination locks that had been cut. One of the trunks held photographs, one gold pans and picks from Pike’s prospecting days, a third clothing and grooming items that would have belonged to a woman, and the last was empty.
“I wonder what was in this one,” Bree said. We looked at each other, neither admitting we were thinking of the cash.
“I wonder who the woman’s things belonged to,” I said, diverting the conversation from the elephant in the room. I was going to need to call Mike to tell him about the trunk on the off chance he wasn’t already aware of it, but I didn’t want to have to reveal as much to Bree.
“Pike might have been married at one time,” Bree suggested, “although I don’t remember ever hearing about a wife being in the picture.”
“He could be a widower. Pike must already have been in his sixties when we were born. If his wife passed before that, we wouldn’t have had reason to know of her existence.”
“I bet there are photos of her in that trunk.”
“If Pike was married I’m sure there probably are photos of his wife, but we should stay on track. Though I’d love to have time to go through that trunk from top to bottom. Many of the photos look to have been taken of this area before White Eagle was even a town.”
Bree picked up a photo that depicted five men standing in front of a mine entrance. “I bet the historical society would want these, unless, of course, Pike’s next of kin comes to claim them.”
I furrowed my brow. “I wonder who Pike’s next of kin is.” I glanced at Bree. “Do you ever remember him talking about a child or sibling?”
“No, never. Of course, if he ever was married his wife has been out of the picture for a long time, and he was ninety-two. If he had a child or sibling he’d most likely be pretty old himself.” Bree stood up and looked around. “If the cash was in the empty trunk there’s no way we can prove that now. The photos are interesting and could provide a clue to what happened to Pike, but my money is on the real clue being upstairs.”
“I agree. Let’s just hope the door between the cellar and the main part of
the cabin is unlocked.”
Luckily for us, it was.
The main part of the old cabin was exactly as I remembered it. There were dishes in the sink and coffee in the pot. A pair of old work boots stood by the front door, and a heavy jacket hung on a peg above that. The letter I’d delivered on the day I’d found Pike’s body was still on the floor, although it had been shoved under a table. I bent down and picked it up, then slipped it into my jacket pocket before I closed the drapes so the light from our flashlights wouldn’t be seen from outside. I wasn’t sure where Pike would have kept important papers, but my bet was on the bedroom because there was no desk in the main living area.
The bedroom was at the back of the house, which lessened even further the likelihood that someone would see us from the parking area used by the bar. Bree began opening and closing drawers while I tried to pretend I wasn’t imagining Pike on the floor at the foot of the bed. I was still having a hard time dealing with the fact that he was gone. In my mind, Pike and his stories of long ago were synonymous with White Eagle. He’d become something of a recluse in the past few years as his health declined, but when Tilly and I stopped by, he always had a treat for her and a story for me.
“Why don’t you check the closet?” Bree said.
I realized I’d been standing in the middle of the room staring into space, and Bree’s suggestion seemed to be as good as any. The closet, like many others, held clothes, shoes, and boxes stacked on a shelf. If there were any clues to be had, I figured they’d most likely be in one of the boxes, so I took them down and set them on the bed.
The first box, large and flat, held maps of the area. Old maps. The next held documents that looked like copies of land titles. I knew Pike had owned a lot of land in the area at one point, so perhaps when he’d gotten ready to sell it he’d needed to verify ownership. The titles could be a clue to why he’d been killed, so I set that box aside, beginning a pile I was going to take with me to investigate further.
The next box held old letters from someone named Patricia. They looked to be personal, so I set them aside. The boxes that looked like they’d originally held shoes now contained receipts. Hundreds, if not thousands, of receipts.
“Anything interesting?” Bree asked.
“The shoeboxes are filled with receipts. Most of them are from the gas station, grocery store, and pharmacist. I don’t think there’s anything relevant, but I suppose I should give them to Mike in case there’s a clue in this mess.”
Bree’s face hardened. “I thought we were going to keep this investigation between ourselves.”
“Mike’s a cop and he’s investigating this case. I said I’d help you, but I didn’t agree to keep things from my brother. A man I cared about is dead. I know we’re trying to prove someone other than Donny killed Pike, but in the end, isn’t what we’re really after the truth?”
Bree didn’t respond, but I could see she didn’t like the idea of helping Mike in the least.
Chapter 3
Wednesday, December 13
Tang, Tilly, and I got an early start on our route the following morning. I’d promised Bree I’d help her find out what really happened to Pike so Donny would be set free, but I had no idea where to start. I’d given the receipts to Mike, which, of course, initiated a whole slew of questions about where I’d gotten them. I’d tried to come up with a lame excuse about finding them in Pike’s trash, which had blown over and I’d stopped to clean up. Naturally, Mike didn’t believe a word I said, but at some point he’d realized arguing with me wasn’t going to do any good because he allowed me to change the subject.
“Morning, Hattie,” I said as I walked into Grandma Hattie’s Bakeshop and was greeted with the wonderful smell of ginger and cinnamon.
“I have fresh cinnamon buns with cream cheese frosting if you’re hungry.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I’m in a bit of a hurry today.”
Hattie crossed her arms and leaned forward on the counter. “Why is it you young folks are always in such a hurry? Life should be savored and enjoyed, not rushed through from one minute to the next like you’re in some sort of race to the finish line. Trust me, when you get to be my age you’re gonna wish you’d taken the scenic route.”
I set Hattie’s mail on the counter. “I know you’re right. And most days I do try to slow down and enjoy the moments of my life. But I promised Bree I’d help her look in to Pike’s death, so I’m hoping to finish my route early.”
“Bree is investigating Pike’s death? Why on earth would she be doing something like that?”
“It’s not that she’s so keen on investigating; she wants to find some sort of proof that Donny didn’t do it.”
“I heard Mike arrested Donny.” Hattie cut a cinnamon roll in half, keeping one half for herself and sliding the other to me. I wanted to remind her that I didn’t have time to eat, but with all that melted frosting it sure did look good, so I broke off a corner and popped it into my mouth. “There’s something different about this frosting. Did you add something new?”
“Amaretto. Just a splash, but it adds a unique flavor.”
This was without a doubt one of the best cinnamon rolls I’d ever had. “This really is delicious, but I should be going. Do you want me to deliver muffins to Hap?”
“No. I took some by the store myself this morning because I needed to stop by to confirm the details for our date night.”
I took another bite of the roll before wiping my fingers on a napkin. “Has it occurred to you that separating from a man you obviously care for after forty years of marriage only to continue to date him is insane?”
“Is it?” Hattie asked. “When we were married Hap took me for granted. Even though I worked all day, same as him, he expected that when we got home in the evening I’d make the meals and clean the house. Now that he has his own home he does his own cooking, cleaning, and laundry, and when we’re together, he treats me with the kindness and respect he didn’t always bring to our marriage.”
I supposed that made sense in a twisted way. It was obvious neither Hap nor Hattie were dating anyone else and they seemed to be happy with their lives. I wasn’t sure the arrangement would work for me, but who knew how I’d feel after forty years of marriage to the same guy.
“I guess I see what you mean, but it must get lonely at times.”
“At times,” Hattie agreed.
“Thanks for the roll and the conversation, but I should get going if I want to have time to help Bree as promised.” I lifted my bag back onto my shoulder.
“Are you sure you want to get in the middle of things?” Hattie asked again.
“Want to, no. But I promised.”
“Things might not turn out the way you hope,” Hattie continued. “I heard Donny’s been gambling again.”
“I heard that as well, but Bree is sure he didn’t kill Pike and she’s my best friend. She asked me to help, so I’m going to.”
“In that case, I might know something interesting that will help.”
“Okay.” I set my bag back down. “What do you know?”
“I was over at the bar delivering some sweet bread to Brick yesterday. Apricot oatmeal, to be exact. It’s his favorite, you know. Anyway, I was just leaving the bar when I saw a car pull into the parking area. It looked to be a rental, so I took a minute to watch. A nicely dressed gentleman who looked to be in his midsixties got out of the sedan and walked up to Pike’s door. He knocked and waited, and I did the neighborly thing and went over to let him know Pike had passed on. The man, whose name, I learned, was Andrew Barton, seemed to be both surprised and dismayed. I invited him back to the bakery for a cup of coffee; it was a slow time of day, so I poured myself a cup and sit to chat with him for a bit.”
“And…?” I hoped Hattie would speed things up a bit.
“Andrew told me that he’d come to White Eagle to meet Pike. Apparently, he’s a retired college professor who’s writing a book about the history of this part of Montana and he’d
been corresponding with Pike via email for quite some time. He told me that while Pike was a well of information, he was unwilling to share anything really juicy about this town or the colorful individuals who’d lived here during his lifetime. Andrew tried to prod some small-town gossip out of Pike, but he said he seemed uneasy about sharing secrets with someone he’d never met in person. Andrew didn’t know for certain Pike would give him any dirt even if he showed up to meet him, but he thought it might be worth the effort to try. He emailed to let him know he was coming, then made travel arrangements.”
“Did he have any idea what sort of secrets Pike might be keeping?”
“Andrew had no idea. Pike was very careful to say just enough to pique his interest but not enough to give him the context of any secrets he was guardian to.”
“Is the man still in town?”
Hattie shrugged. “Don’t know. I do know that when he left here he was heading to the inn.”
I thanked Hattie for the information and continued on my route.
If Pike was involved in an email exchange with a man who was interested enough in hearing what he had to say to travel here in December, I figured those emails might lead us to a clue. Of course, the very existence of a clue left me feeling conflicted. Bree would have a fit if I brought Mike in on the information I’d just learned, and Mike would have a fit if I didn’t. The inn wasn’t on my route, but I decided to stop by to see if Mr. Barton was still in town, and if he was, if he’d be willing to speak to me.
******
The Inn at White Eagle is a warm, cozy lodging built from hand-milled logs from trees grown nearby. It’s situated on the edge of one of the smaller lakes in the area that isn’t deep enough for motorboats but is perfect for lazy days spent fishing or simply sitting on the front porch contemplating the universe.