Andy wanted to spend some time on the ranch before he made a final decision. But I could tell the decision had already been made. Andy was infatuated with the place. He couldn’t stop smiling as he looked out over the property, petting Sallie on the head all the while.
We thanked the Olsens and the realtor and headed back to Rockdale. Stone and Andy discussed the pros and cons of purchasing the property. Andy was concerned about Andy trying to take care of 640 acres, a full section of land.
“That’s a lot of land and livestock there to maintain,” he said.
“I know, Uncle Stone,” Andy said. “But the Olsens have fifty years on me. If they can handle it, surely with a little training and experience, I can handle it too. If it all becomes too much, I can hire some help.”
“I have no doubt you could handle anything you set your mind to,” Stone agreed. “I’m anxious to hear what you think after you spend a day out there with Tom tomorrow. And I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I just want you to take everything into consideration before you make a final decision. You know how badly I’d like to have you living near me. Still, your happiness in my prime concern.”
We stopped for lunch in Atchison, and were fairly silent for the remainder of the drive back to the inn. We were all lost in our own thoughts. I was wondering how I could sneak off to run back out to Chuck’s mobile home west of town. Something didn’t feel right about his relationship with his younger half-brother. It was something I thought needed additional attention. The detectives apparently were satisfied with his story, but I wasn’t.
Chapter 18
Steve and Eleanor Dudley were out when we got back, so Stone used his key to open the front door. Wendy and Andy disappeared to their rooms to freshen up, and Stone joined me in the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I had round steak simmering in a mushroom gravy, cooking slowly in the Crock-Pot, and was looking through my Betty Crocker Cookbook for something to fix for Eleanor.
“What are you feeding the pain-in-the-ass tonight?” Stone asked. He actually liked both of the Dudleys, but knew cooking for Eleanor was creating extra work for me.
“Here’s a recipe for a cheese and spinach quiche that sounds pretty good, and is also easy to prepare. How does that sound?”
“Not as good as beef, but I’m sure Eleanor will appreciate it. I’m certainly glad she’ll bend enough to eat eggs,” he said.
“I’ll serve turnip greens and dinner rolls with it, and I’ll whip up some cherry cobbler for dessert,” I said. “Right after I have another cup of coffee.”
“You’re the best,” Stone said. “Even though I have no idea how you sleep at night, considering the amount of caffeine in your system.”
“I manage,” I said. “I think by now I’m immune to caffeine.”
“You’d have to be.” He leaned over and kissed me on top of the head as he stood up to answer the knocking at the back door. “I’ll let you get back to your quiche.”
I don’t know how, but the mere mention of food brought Wyatt to our doorstep. Real men may not eat quiche, but I was willing to bet Wyatt was the exception to the rule. It was his day off so he wasn’t in uniform. He looked nice in his creased khakis and navy blue polo shirt.
I invited Wyatt to supper, but, as it turned out, Wendy had already invited him and Veronica out to eat with her and Andy. Andy had met Wyatt on a couple of occasions while visiting us in the past year. They’d always gotten along well and had become friends in the process.
“I’m here to pick up Andy and Wendy,” he said. “We decided to take in a show before supper. It’s kind of a chick-flick, but Andy and I decided we could tough it out since both of the gals have been wanting to see it.”
“That’s mighty considerate of you boys,” I said.
“Well, frankly, we’d both prefer something with a little more blood and guts, but maybe it’ll at least have a car chase in it,” Wyatt said. “Speaking of which, I was involved in one myself last night.”
“What happened?” Stone asked Wyatt, as he poured the detective a cup of coffee. “Was it right here in Rockdale?”
“Yes. Downtown on Main Street, in fact. It ended when the young man crashed into a street sign in front of the hardware store. I pulled him out of the car, verified he wasn’t injured, and proceeded to cuff him and stuff him. It was pretty cool.”
“Anybody we know?” I asked. It was obvious this was the kind of police work Wyatt lived for. Writing out tickets for people parking in handicapped parking stalls was not Wyatt’s cup of tea. “It sounds like you really enjoyed yourself.”
“You guys wouldn’t know him. He’s not from around here. He was just a dumb punk who tried to grab the purse of a lady walking out of the post office. She made a ruckus and fought him off. A passerby called the police station, and we were on him before he could get out of town,” Wyatt explained. “I’ve been on the force for fifteen years and have never had to draw my gun. We need a little action occasionally to keep the job interesting. That doesn’t happen very often in a place like Rockdale. Pulling over speeders with marijuana in their glove compartments is about as exciting as it gets here.”
Rockdale’s low crime rate apparently didn’t appeal a whole lot to Wyatt, who was paid to serve and protect the citizens of this sleepy little town. No wonder he hung out at the Alexandria Inn. This is where most of the major crimes in Rockdale seem to take place. It wasn’t a cheery thought, especially when the low crime rate was one of the things that drew Stone to this town when he first purchased the old mansion to restore.
While Wyatt waited for Wendy and Andy to come downstairs, he, Stone, and I discussed the weather, the price of gasoline, the new mayor, and ice fishing. Finally, after listening to all the attributes of the latest ice auger on the market, I asked Wyatt if there were any new developments in the murder case.
“Not too many,” he said. “Clarence and Melba have both been cleared, which is not to say something might arise that will draw attention to them again. Melba is to be released from the hospital next Monday with some home nursing care for a few weeks. They have her on a new medication. It seems to be working well, so far. She’s not physically ill, at least, but they need someone to keep an eye on her. She’s more of a danger to herself than anyone else.”
“Does she realize yet her son is gone for good? Even at the funeral she seemed dazed and confused,” I said. “I wasn’t sure she even knew where she was.”
“I think she does have some understanding of the circumstances by this time. She’s been very upset since attending the funeral. They have her on suicide watch for a few days, anyway.”
“That’s too bad,” Stone commented. “She’s had kind of a rough life. What about Clarence? Is he still in town?”
“Clarence is driving back to Albuquerque as we speak. On the morning his son was murdered, he was at a high school friend’s house, involved in a friendly game of penny-ante poker. He has five friends who can back up his story,” Wyatt said. “And he really had no motive to kill Walter. He had nothing to gain from the boy’s death. While he was in town, he’d planned to try once more to convince Walter to move to New Mexico and learn the heating and cooling trade. Walter was killed before Clarence got the opportunity.”
“How sad, although I doubt Walter would have left Sidney behind to move to New Mexico. Any news about the DNA evidence from the loose hair found on Walter?” I asked.
“Yes, we took your advice and did a buccal, or mouth, swab on Roxie Kane, and found she was a DNA match to the hair. She’s still under scrutiny, and the closest thing we have to a suspect to date. No one has stepped forward to verify her alibi yet, and her story is a little sketchy. Had she not been a match, we would have tested you and Wendy next.”
“I can tell you one thing, Wyatt,” I said. “I think the detectives should consider Audrey McCoy a suspect. From speaking with her, I can tell you she had absolutely no use for Walter or for his girlfriend, Sidney. She even told me she only came to his wake to make sure he wa
s truly dead. I think she deserves a great deal of scrutiny. And, yes, I’d also do some more intense delving into Roxie Kane’s involvement. I found her story a bit suspect, myself. If Walter were truly in the condition she reported to have found him in, and she had no intention of killing him, then why didn’t she alert someone to the fact he needed help? She admitted she knew something was wrong with him.”
“That’s kind of what we thought too, Lexie. I didn’t see her at the wake, or I would have spoken with her. But I thought I did see you conversing with Audrey at the wake,” Wyatt said. “Did you?”
“Yes, I approached her while she was standing up at the casket, glaring down at Walter’s body with pure hatred in her eyes. She left immediately afterward. We had a long and interesting conversation.”
“Could you write down what all you can remember from your conversation with her before you forget any of it? You might be called to testify in court if she’s eventually arrested,” Wyatt told me.
“Sure, I’ll do that today,” I agreed. “Have they cleared Walter’s half-brother, Chuck Sneed?”
“Not yet,” Wyatt said. “Why do you ask?”
“I still think it’s odd he didn’t attend either the wake or the funeral. His excuse of having to go to a hog-tying contest doesn’t sound too credible to me. What kind of people actually compete in hog tying?”
“Huh? Hog-tying contest? Well, he is kind of a hick, Lexie.”
“You think?”
Stone had never met Chuck, so I gave him a rundown on my meeting with him. Stone and Wyatt were both laughing by the time I was through.
“He bought your flower shop story?” Stone asked. “He must be a real dandy!”
“Well, he was at least half looped. I thought I might run back out there again this afternoon, while the kids are gone and the round steak is simmering in the Crock-Pot.”
“Not without me, you’re not!” Stone said. “He might be a nut job like his stepmother, but he also might be dangerous.”
“If I weren’t off duty today and already have plans, I’d go out there with you,” Wyatt said. “He’s right, Lexie. Don’t go out there alone. I wouldn’t trust Chuck Sneed if I were you. You don’t want to show up out there alone and unannounced. If he actually had the audacity to kill his own brother, just think what he could do to you. It’s just not safe to go out there alone.”
Wyatt was right. It would be best to take a man along with me. I could be rash at times, and I was very anxious to see the killer brought to justice, but I didn’t really have a death wish. I had no desire to end up in the same boat as Walter.
“Thanks for agreeing to go out there with me,” I said to Stone before he could change his mind or modify his previous statement that I wasn’t going out there without him—as if he’d already agreed to make the trip.
“What will be your excuse to go out there this time, Lexie?” Stone asked. “Needing his opinion for the engraving font used on the grave marker?”
I wasn’t sure I cared for the tone in his voice. I only appreciated sarcasm when it came out of my own mouth. I figured Chuck had believed I worked at the flower shop the first time so I’d stick with a story along the same lines. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
* * *
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Stone asked me a while after we’d turned off Thirty-Six Highway on to the gravel farm road, just outside Chillicothe. “We’ve already wound around this back road for several miles.”
“Yes, he lives at the end of this road. The road dead-ends in a cul-de-sac just past his driveway.”
Stone continued driving my Jeep another mile or so before we came up on the Sneeds’ mobile home. When we pulled up, Chuck was in his yard, gutting a deer with a large buck knife. He was so engrossed in slicing the deer up its belly, he didn’t even look up. I averted my eyes to avoid watching the deer’s entrails spill out onto the ground. I had a real affinity for wildlife, and watching them being dissected was not something I enjoyed.
Chuck never looked up as we got out of the Jeep and walked over to him. He had on blood-splattered jeans, with an empty knife sheath hanging from his belt. A green wool cap and a faded camouflaged sweatshirt completed his ensemble. A half-empty beer bottle was propped up against the deer’s antlers.
“Whadda ya want?” he asked. He finally looked up, clearly impatient and aggravated at being distracted from his task of cleaning the buck.
“Remember me, Mr. Sneed?” I asked. “We met before. I’m the lady from the flower shop, and this gentleman with me is my partner.”
“Yeah, yeah, so whadda you want this time?”
“Our customer service department has sent me out to do a survey. They like to ensure our customers were satisfied with the flower arrangements we provided for their loved one’s funeral services. I just need to ask you a few questions. I won’t take but a minute of your time.”
“Your little flower place in Rockdale has a customer service department?” Chuck asked. Okay, so this guy was smarter than I’d given him credit for. I looked over at Stone, who was rolling his eyes. The real flower shop in town had an owner, who was the official florist, and one clerk.
“Well, uh, yes, we do. We are very customer-oriented, you understand.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I ain’t got nothing to do with no flowers. I wasn’t even there to see them anyhow. You need to talk to my sister, Sheila, like I told you before. I’m busy here.”
“You didn’t go to your brother’s funeral services?” I asked, with disapproval in my voice. “Why ever not?”
“I went to that hog-tying contest on Tuesday, like I told ya last time you was here.”
“What about the funeral on Wednesday night? Couldn’t you have made it to that, at least? Surely the hog-tying contest wasn’t a two-day affair,” I said. I noticed Stone was examining his fingernails. He wanted no part of this conversation. I could tell he was second-guessing his decision to bring me out here, and thought my fictitious excuse for visiting Chuck sounded as lame as it possibly could. I turned my attention back to Chuck, who looked more than a little pissed off.
“Wednesday night I was in a pool tournament at the Blue Dog Saloon, not that it’s any business of yours. Took second place, too. Won myself a hundred clams, first place was two-fifty,” Chuck stated, proudly.
“Oh, I see. This pool tournament was more important than your brother,” I said, with even more disapproval. “That’s just unbelievable.”
Chuck instantly got to his feet. He pointed his buck knife at me, and said, “Now, listen here, lady. Like I done said, it ain’t no business of yours what I do. You wanna know about flowers, go talk to my sister, Sheila. I got more important things to do, if you can’t see that for yourself. I don’t need no lecture by the likes of you.”
Stone stepped in front of me, the knife blade just inches from his nose. “Take it easy, Mr. Sneed. The lady is just doing her job. No need to get upset. She didn’t mean anything by what she said. You know how women can be. You get back to your work now, and we’ll get on out of here and leave you be.”
“Sorry, lady,” Chuck said. He obviously felt a little contrite for pointing his knife at me. “Didn’t mean to scare ya. And it wasn’t just a pool tournament, ya see. On Wednesdays at the Blue Dog, they have happy hour all day long. They got fourteen types of beer on tap, and ever’ draw is a buck off till closing time. It weren’t just the hundred dollars I was after.”
Oh, well, that explained it then. Why didn’t he tell me before that he could get cheap beer on Wednesdays? Then I would have understood his plight. How could a brother’s wake compete with that? God, what a piece of work this guy was.
“Let’s go, Stone,” I said. “Thanks, anyway, Chuck. I’ll go ask Sheila about the quality of the flowers we delivered.”
Back in the Jeep, I said to Stone, “That guy’s a horse’s ass, but he’s got nothing to do with his brother’s death.�
��
“What makes you say that? I didn’t come to that deduction at all.”
“Chuck Sneed isn’t smart enough to pull it off. You’d have to be at least a little bit clever to sneak in to the inn, chloroform Walter, inject him with insulin, and then sneak back out without being detected. And first of all, you’d have to have the wherewithal to know you could kill a person by making their blood sugar plunge to a fatal level. That’s not Chuck’s style at all, don’t you see?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Chuck would have stabbed him with his buck knife, shot him with that twelve-gauge in the gun rack of his truck, or just cracked him over the head with a beer bottle. Then he would have dragged Walter off into the woods and left him to die and be picked clean by buzzards like a road-killed ‘possum. Now, if that had been the M.O. of the killer, then I could believe Chuck might be responsible.”
“I see your point,” Stone said. “Chuck isn’t the cunning, scheming type at all. He’s the stick his knife right in your face type.”
Chapter 19
After supper we watched the Thursday night football game on television with the Dudleys. They told us their family reunion would be held Saturday afternoon at the American Legion Hall in Rockdale. Eleanor said it was to be a potluck affair, and asked if I knew where she could buy some decent potato salad.
I told her I made a mean mustard potato salad, and I’d be happy to prepare a large bowl of it for her to take to the reunion. It was going the extra mile like this that helped give us an excellent reputation with our guests. Word of mouth advertising had proven to be very effective in producing new customers. Stone thought I sometimes went too far in my quest to please the guests, but I would do whatever it took to help his business be successful. And Eleanor had assured me she’d reimburse me for the salad’s ingredients, so I wouldn’t be responsible for the expenses.
Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 03 - Haunted Page 16