by Jessica Beck
“You know, they aren’t going to open early just because you want them to,” I said to my husband with a half-smile.
“Why couldn’t Judge Dixon have taken care of this last night?” Greg asked. “She has to have some kind of pull here.”
I tugged my jacket closer, wishing I’d worn a heavier coat when I’d left the house. We were close enough to the mountains to get their weather sometimes, and this autumn was turning out to be chillier than most. I loved the explosion of colors the hardwood trees brought with the season, so I was willing to deal with whatever weather we faced, but that didn’t mean I had to embrace it. On the other hand, my husband didn’t even seem to notice the change in temperature.
“Greg, aren’t you cold?”
“It’s a little brisk,” he admitted as he looked around, “but that’s the way I like it.”
Somehow, seeing him in just a T-shirt and blue jeans made me even colder.
Hank Brewer didn’t even seem to notice us as he approached the courthouse, a scowl plastered to his face. Hank was a tall and heavyset man with a shock of white hair. He was a longtime friend of Moose’s, and owned The Clothes Horse just down the block from us.
“What are you two doing here?” he asked when he finally saw us. Before I could answer, he did it for me. As his expression soured even further, he said, “Don’t tell me. You got a visit from Howard Lance yesterday, too, didn’t you? Does Moose know about this mess yet?”
“He found out last night,” I said.
“Then I’m surprised that Howard Lance is still walking around today. I’m tempted to take a swing at him myself, but Moose must want to kill him.”
Behind him, another citizen of Jasper Fork, Cynthia Wilson, came up and joined us. I’d gone to school with Cynthia’s daughter, Penny. She must have heard our topic of conversation as she approached. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I’ve been so worried about this entire mess.” Cynthia ran A Cut Above, the town beauty parlor. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to do, but I’m not afraid to admit that I’m in way over my head. I don’t know what I’ll do if he takes away my business.”
“This is all just unbelievable. Moose isn’t even sure that he kept his receipt for the original land sale,” I said.
“I lost my papers in a basement flood ten years ago,” Hank said. “But I know for a fact I registered the sale, so I should be okay.”
“I spoke with my mother in Florida, and she’s certain that she registered too, not that she’s still not as frantic as I am.” That didn’t surprise me one bit. Evelyn, and her daughter as well, had an overactive imagination when it came to bad things happening to her, and there wasn’t a conclusion yet that either one of them hadn’t jumped to as far as I knew.
“How is Evelyn doing?” Hank asked her.
“You know her. She never changes,” Cynthia said with a smile.
“Give her my love the next time you talk to her. I’m guessing you two will be chatting later today.”
“No doubt about it,” Cynthia said. “I’m supposed to call her just as soon as I have Karen make a copy of the record in the Book of Deeds and shove it under Howard Lance’s nose.”
“Funny, I’ve been considering putting it somewhere else, myself,” Hank said.
Karen Morgan, our official town clerk, came out at nine o’clock, adjusting the beehive hairdo she’d preferred ever since I’d known her. The woman never seemed to age, and if that was the price for a lifetime beehive, I might consider it myself someday. On second thought, even if it was the fountain of youth, I was probably just going to have to pass.
Immortality just wasn’t worth it.
“Goodness, how long have you folks been out here in the cold? If I’d seen you earlier, I would have let you in.”
We all walked in together, and as soon as Karen got behind the desk, she asked, “Now, who needs to be taken care of first?”
Before Greg or I could say anything, Hank pointed to us. “Take them. They were here when I showed up.”
Cynthia nodded in agreement, so Karen looked at me expectantly.
“I need to see if there’s a record of Moose’s land purchase from Joshua Lance. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the exact date of the sale.”
Hank spoke up. “Moose and Evelyn bought their land the same day I did. It was March 11, 1959.”
“How on earth do you remember that far back?” I asked.
Hank looked sheepish as he admitted, “My daughter was born that day, and I slipped out of the hospital to pay Joshua for his land. I didn’t think Sally would even notice I was gone, and Joshua said if I didn’t show up with my money that day, he was going to sell the property to someone else. I couldn’t take the chance, but I’ve been hearing about it on the eleventh of March ever since. I’m pretty certain I recorded the deed on the way back to the hospital, just in case Joshua got any funny ideas about our deal.”
“That’s the date for all of us, then,” I said.
Karen smiled. “Excellent. That should save me a few hours of work.”
She bypassed her computer and headed for the open stacks behind us. They were available to anyone in Jasper Fork who wanted to check any vital records or deeds, since everything was registered in a new set of volumes each year.
As she started digging through the books, Greg asked her, “You’re kidding, right? Isn’t this all computerized now?”
Karen laughed. “We were told two years ago that someday the old records would be added to our database, but there’s never been enough funding to do it. Don’t worry, these handwritten notations serve just as well.”
As Karen perused the stacks, an unsettled look came across her face. “Now that’s odd.”
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Karen said as she searched the shelves a little more intently.
“Don’t try to snow us, woman; it’s clear that something’s not right,” Hank said.
Karen kept scanning the dusty old volumes, but she finally gave up and said, “I’m sure it’s just been misfiled, but the record book for March of 1959 seems to be missing.”
“Are you sure you’re looking in the right place?” Greg asked as he moved toward the stacks to join her. “No offense, but this place is a wreck.”
“Why should I take offense at that?” Karen asked, though it was clear in her voice that she was hurt by the implication. “I’m just in this room part-time, so there’s no way I can watch over everything. You wouldn’t believe the amount of responsibilities I have here.”
“We all know that you do a marvelous job within a limited amount of time,” I said, doing my best to reassure her. “Karen, you have to forgive us. We’re so stressed out about the eviction notice we all got that we’re snapping at everyone.”
“Is that what this is all about? How horrible for all of you.”
I looked at Greg, gave him one of my best piercing looks, and he nodded. Turning to Karen, my husband put on his most charming smile. “I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I didn’t mean anything by what I just said. Frankly, I think it’s amazing what you manage to do here every day. It must feel like you’re constantly herding cats.”
Greg had been fine up until the last word, but I knew that he’d gotten himself into even more trouble than he had before when he said it. Karen owned at least three cats that I knew of, and in lieu of children, they were the only family she had.
I saw her neck stiffen, and then she asked him pointedly, “Now, why on earth would anyone want to herd cats? That sounds absolutely barbaric.”
“It’s just an old expression,” I said.
“Well, it’s horrid, if you ask me.”
It was time to change the subject back to the matter at hand. “Are we sure the book wasn’t just misfiled? With so many folks coming in, it would be impossible for something not to get misplaced every now and then.”
Karen shrugged, and then pointed
to the shelf. There was a distinctly empty gap between 1958 and 1960. I leaned closer to the shelf and studied the empty space between the two books that were still there. Taking out my hanky, I ran it across the bare wood of the gap, and then I looked at it. “One thing’s for sure, this book hasn’t been gone long,” I said as I held my hanky up. It was as pristine as when I’d pulled it out of the dryer the day before. “There’s not the slightest trace of dust on this.”
“Dust does seem to accumulate down here,” Karen admitted.
“Do you have any idea who’s been in this room in the past two weeks?” Hank asked. “Is there some kind of register folks have to use?”
“There used to be, but it disappeared, as well,” she admitted with a frown.
“When did that happen?” I asked.
“Two weeks ago,” Karen admitted. “I asked Lynette upstairs to order me a new one, but she never got around to it. I wouldn’t do you much good anyway, since we operate on the honor system around here. I doubt a thief would steal it when it would be easier just not to sign it in the first place.”
“Unless they weren’t planning the theft when they first came in here,” I said. “The ledger could have been stolen to cover their tracks.”
“I don’t believe this!” Cynthia said. “What am I going to tell my mother?”
“Tell her not to panic, and that we’re digging into this,” I said.
“Is your grandfather going to work on it, too?” Cynthia asked. “My mom always did like Moose.”
“She most likely had to get in line,” Greg said. “Apparently the man’s had his fair share of admirers over the years in Jasper Fork.”
Cynthia looked at him oddly. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“He just seems to have an affinity for the women in Jasper Fork,” Greg answered. “You have to admit, the man can be a real charmer.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Cynthia reluctantly agreed. “I’ll let Mom know what’s going on, and I hope you will keep me in the loop about what you find.”
“We’ll add you to the list,” I said. My husband’s unbridled candor was one reason that I was happy he worked in the kitchen and not directly with the customers at our diner.
Hank said, “I wouldn’t mind getting a call, myself. I’m sure I’ll talk to Moose later. For more reasons than I can name, I wish Helen were still alive. She’d know exactly what to do. My wife has been gone three years, and I still reach across the bed to kiss her good night just before I go to sleep.”
“Try not to worry. We’ll be in touch,” I said as Hank and Cynthia left.
“Well, what do we do now?” I asked Greg.
He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got over an hour before we have to take over at the diner. I suggest we keep looking for that missing book. After all, we might just be panicking about nothing. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to put it back in the wrong, would it?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” I said, but the missing record of deeds combined with the AWOL logbook gave me a hunch that we were wasting our time.
Unfortunately, an hour later, I knew that my instincts had been right all along. We hadn’t been able to come up with anything new.
I just hoped that Moose and Martha had better luck than we had.
Unfortunately, we soon found out that they hadn’t fared any better themselves.
After thoroughly checking the safety deposit box, they discovered that there was no receipt. It appeared that my grandfather had no record of ever having owned the land that our diner, our family’s source of income, and the place we called home during working hours, might not belong to us after all.
Greg’s Homemade Chili
This has been one of my family’s standard meals for many years. We love this any time of year! It’s especially good when the snow outside is flying, and the wind is howling through the trees. There’s just something about this meal that makes me feel safe, and happy to have those I love around me.
Ingredients
1 pound ground beef, 80/20
1 medium onion, diced, yellow or white
1 clove, garlic, minced (optional)
1 15 oz. (approximate) can tomato sauce
3 Tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon sugar
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 15 oz. (approximate) can dark red kidney beans, drained
Directions
In a large pan, cook the ground beef, diced onion, (and garlic, if preferred) until the ground beef is light brown. Drain the beef, then add the tomato sauce, chili powder, sugar, salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. Stir all together, and then bring to a boil. Back off to a simmer, cover, and cook for one hour, stirring occasionally. Add the drained kidney beans, stir them in, and then heat for 15-20 minutes. Serve with sour cream if desired, and top with cheddar cheese.
Chapter 3
“Order up,” Greg said as he hit the bell once a little while after we started our shifts together at eleven. I glanced at the plate, and then grabbed it to deliver myself before Ellen got it.
“Thanks,” she said as we passed each other. She had a pot of coffee and was refilling our early lunch diners’ mugs, and I liked to help out whenever I could if the register wasn’t busy.
I took the plate of country fried steak, onion wedges, and French fries, and put them down in front of Reverend Mercer.
“Here’s your meal,” I said as I smiled at him. “When is your wife getting back into town?”
“How did you know that she was even gone?” he asked as he returned my smile. He was a portly older man with quick blue eyes and a ready smile, but he wasn’t usually a regular at the diner.
“Do you mean besides the fact that you usually don’t come by for lunch, or the fact that you’re ordering off the menu like a man temporarily off his leash?”
He held both hands up in the air, his smile never wavering. “You caught me. Miriam is out of town visiting with her niece, and I had to stay behind to deliver Jackson Briggs’ eulogy.”
At least there had been no suspicion surrounding that passing. Jackson had been ninety-three years old, and he’d simply faded away in his sleep a few nights before.
“How’s Dagmar holding up?” Dagmar was Jackson’s wife of seventy years, though he’d called her his bride until the day that he died.
“Truthfully, she accepted it a long time ago. When Jackson was sixty, his doctor gave him six months to live. Jackson outlived the man by over thirty years, so he always felt as though he was living on borrowed time, and he was going to make the most of it.”
“Are any of the kids in town for the funeral?” I asked.
“Oh yes. There are children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren running all around that house. I offered to put some up myself, but Dagmar insisted that she loved the company. The service is going to be more of a celebration than a somber occasion, and I’m having a little difficulty reaching the exact tone that Dagmar expects.”
She was a woman of strong opinion, and I knew that Reverend Mercer didn’t want to let her down.
“Why don’t you treat it like a retirement party instead of a funeral?” I suggested. “After all, isn’t that exactly what it is, in a way?”
The reverend looked troubled by the suggestion. “Do you mean that we should have balloons and cake at the service instead of flowers?”
“No, of course not. At least not unless Dagmar approves of it. I’m talking about showing pictures, maybe even slides, recapping the highlights of Jackson’s life. Folks could tell stories about him, if they’d like. The man was quite the character, so you shouldn’t have any shortage of volunteers for tales about his past.”
The reverend considered it for a moment, and then nodded. “I believe that’s exactly what she is hoping for. I’ll run it by Dagmar.”
As he started to get up, I asked, “Wouldn’t it be okay for you to eat first?
I’d hate to see this food just go to waste.”
“That makes two of us,” he said as he sat back down. “Thank you for the idea. I’ll be sure that you get full credit.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “There’s no reason anyone has to know that we brainstormed this together. Let’s just hope that it satisfies the family.”
“The family will be happy if Dagmar is,” he said as he took his first bite. A true smile spread across his face. “That is magic. Please give my compliments to the chef.”
“I’d be happy to,” I said as I topped off his iced tea.
I returned to the pass-through window and told Greg, “The reverend passes on his compliments for your cooking.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked that man,” Greg said. “Has Moose checked in yet?”
“No, but evidently there are quite a few folks around town who did business with Joshua Lance, and Moose is determined to talk to every last one of them.”
“What’s he hoping to find?” I asked.
“Anything that might help,” Greg said. He pointed behind me as he said, “The Harpers look like they’re ready to pay their bill.”
“I’m on it,” I said as I hurried over to the register.
The day seemed to drag by. At five, Greg came out carrying two platters of his pulled pork barbeque sandwiches, along with enough French fries to cover the balance of the plates.
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“We both have to eat, and we’ve got a break right now. Things are kind of slow at the moment, something that usually doesn’t happen this time of day.”