“You never disappoint,” she said. “Show me.”
As Chief Rose and I stepped out the front door of the inn, I felt three sets of eyes on my back, including Cheetos.
In the small parking lot, Officer Riley placed the medicine he had taken from Ruby’s luggage in the trunk of the patrol car. I unlocked Timothy’s pickup and retrieved the bag from the backseat. The chief placed it on top of the hood of the patrol car. “How did you get this?”
“I went into the bus to retrieve Pearl’s bag when she said she wanted to come back to the inn. I spotted Ruby’s too, so I grabbed it.”
“You stole it.”
I blushed. “No. Pearl knows I have it.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Let’s take a look.” She removed a pair of latex gloves from her shirt pocket.
Officer Riley ambled over to us.
“Do you think there’s something in there that will tell us what happened to Ruby and maybe even Dudley?” I asked.
“Patience, Humphrey, I won’t know until I’ve opened it.”
Right. Chief Rose was one of the least patient women I knew.
She unzipped the bag and removed a beige cardigan, a water bottle, a pair of thin slippers, two paperback novels, a toiletry case, and a leather-bound notebook. Chief Rose flipped through the notebook. I held my tongue even though there were a thousand questions sitting on its time. She peered at me. “It’s a diary.”
“Really?” I leaned forward.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s more of a log than insight into her deepest thoughts.” She cleared her throat and began to read. “Today, we left the inn at Birds-in-a-Hand. Before we left we had breakfast in the breakfast room. It was a buffet. I had coffee, scrambled eggs, sausage, rye toast, and butter. Pearl ate pancakes and bacon.” She closed the leather volume. “The whole thing is like that. It’s a running menu through Amish Country. I wonder if they had flakey biscuits in Intercourse. I can hardly wait to find out.”
“There must be more to it than that.”
“Doesn’t look like it, but I will give it a closer read-through to make sure. I can’t wait to read what they had to eat at McDonalds in Pittsburgh.” She unzipped the toiletry case. One by one, she set the items on the table. Nail clippers, a compact, Aspirin, hand cream, and prescription pill bottle. She held up the prescription pill bottle. “Heart medicine. We found another bottle of this in the room. We’ll take this, Doc. If she had a weak heart, that could explain why she reacted so quickly to whatever killed her.”
“Pearl mentioned Ruby had a heart murmur,” I said.
The chief sighed. “Why didn’t she tell us that at the scene?”
I shrugged. “Shock? Do you know what caused them to collapse?”
She shook her head. “We won’t know anything for sure until the autopsy on both of them and any tests Doc has to run on their stomach contents and samples from Troyers’ farm.”
I grimaced at the mention of stomach contents. “Doc has to know something…”
She frowned. “This doesn’t go any further, but Doc thinks some type of chemical reaction was involved. The question remains if that chemical reaction was caused by bad milk or some type of poison. And before you ask, Doc was unwilling to speculate if a poison was used or what that poison might be.”
I thought of Pearl. “Pearl is concerned about the arrangements. She is a long way from home.”
Sympathy crossed the chief’s face. “I can understand that. We can’t release the body until the investigation is complete, but she can start contacting a funeral home. The home will be able to make arrangements to transport the body. It might help Pearl feel better to do something.”
Another thought struck me. “What about Dudley? Who is going to care for his arrangements?”
“We don’t know that yet. We’re trying to find a next of kin. I called Blue Suede Tours.” She rolled her eyes when she said that name. “To find out who that might be. There was no family listed in his personnel file. The owner of Blue Suede said he was going to see what more he can find, and he said he would handle the arrangements if necessary.”
“That’s awfully nice of him.”
“I think the gesture is more out of self-preservation than good nature. He must be sweating bullets over the idea of a lawsuit. One of the reasons he’s letting the tour go on is he wants me to find the killer. If I do, someone other than him will be held responsible, or at least it will give him a strong case if Blue Suede Tours is sued.”
Where I thought the owner did actions out of the kindness of his heart, Chief Rose suspected an ulterior motive. Sadly, her suspicions were likely closer to the truth.
“Did you learn anything from Pearl while the two of you were alone?” the chief asked.
“From what Pearl says, she and Ruby didn’t know anyone else on the trip. Who would do this to an elderly lady like Ruby? It doesn’t make sense.”
Chief Rose tapped her fingernail on the metal tabletop. “Maybe the killer didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe Dudley was the target,” the chief mused. “Ruby was an unfortunate accident. This makes it even more important that we talk to someone who knew Dudley well, so we can piece together his story. Ruby’s story is pretty much in place. She was a seventy-some year-old woman, widowed ten years ago, and had no children. She came on this bus tour with her first cousin Pearl, also a childless widow. Both women live in Tupelo, Mississippi.”
I placed a hand on the hood of the patrol car. “That’s her whole life summed up? How sad.”
The chief frowned. “It’s what we know so far.”
“I asked Hudson a little bit about Dudley, but he either doesn’t know much or doesn’t care. He made it clear he and Dudley were not close.”
The chief repacked the roll bag and handed it to Officer Riley. He carried it to the police cruiser’s trunk without a word.
“I guess this means you plan to keep the roll bag too,” I said as Officer Riley tucked the bag into the trunk along with Ruby’s medicine.
“Yes.” Concern crossed her delicate face. “Humphrey, we have to get to the bottom of this before they leave for Indiana.” She pointed a finger at me. “I want you back on the bus. Find out who hated Ruby and Dudley. You’re not getting off the bus until you can answer that question.”
As I left the inn, I wondered if the real question I should be asking was, “Who hated Simon Troyer?”
I drove Timothy’s pickup down a quiet county road, or, it would’ve been quiet, if a beat-up green pickup hadn’t coming from the opposite direction. Six months ago the sight of that truck would’ve sent me peeling toward the police station. Now I viewed it in a friendlier manner, but I didn’t know if I would ever lose the first immediate stab of anxiety when I saw it.
The truck’s owner, Curt Fanning, beeped his horn, and I pulled over to the side of the road.
Curt did an illegal U-turn and stopped his truck behind me. In the rearview mirror, I watched him hop out of the cabin. He wore a gray flannel shirt over jeans and a white T-shirt. As always, his father’s, who died in combat during the First Iraq War, dog tags hung from his thin neck. His trademark goatee was shorter than it had been the last I’d seen him. At first my enemy, Curt was now, if not a friend, a friendly acquaintance. He’d recently started visiting the same Mennonite church that Timothy, Becky, and I attended.
I rolled down the pickup window. He smoothed his goatee with his knuckles and straightened his stance. “Where you off to, Red?”
“The Dutch Inn. I have a friend staying there.”
He placed a hand on the side mirror. “I see you have Bugg—Troyer’s truck.” A strange look crossed his face so quickly I wasn’t sure I even saw it, but I did know Curt almost slipped and called Timothy “Buggy Rider,” a perceived slur that he had thrown at Timothy many times before. Although I had made peace with Curt, Timothy and Curt’s truce—if you could call it that—was much more fragile.
“I’d let you borrow
my truck if you ever needed it,” Curt said.
“That’s nice of you to offer.”
“I would…” He trailed off, leaving me wondering what he would do. He stepped away from the truck. “I was on my way to town to talk to the chief, but then I thought better of it when I heard about those two tourists dying at the Troyer milk farm.” He examined my face. “That’s why you were at the inn, isn’t it? About those two dead bus people? I heard they were staying at the inn.”
I frowned at his insensitive way to describe the situation. Curt may have turned over a new leaf, but he was still the same Curt. It would take some time to smooth twenty-five years of rough edges.
He pointed at me, and for a millisecond, I flashbacked to the time when we were enemies. I reminded myself Curt was different now. Forgive and forget. Forgiving was the easy part.
“What did you want to talk to Chief Rose about?” My tone was sharper than I intended it to be. I tried to soften the effect with a cheerful smile. By the tic in Curt’s cheek, I knew he felt the sharpness of my words.
“To see if the chief had any work for me.” Curt blushed. “Seeing how I know about all of the nefarious going-ons in this town, I thought I could be a help to her in catching some crooks.”
Curt did know most of the troublemakers in the county. “That’s good of you to offer help, Curt,” I said.
He brushed the sole of his combat boot back and forth over the pavement. “I spoke with the pastor last week about…about everything I’ve done and told him I wanted to make up for it. He said to look for ways to offer help.”
I smiled, genuinely this time. “I’m glad you’re meeting with Pastor Chris. That’s very brave of you to talk about your past with him.”
Curt studied my face. “No one has ever called me brave before.”
I swallowed and needed to change the subject quickly. “Did you talk to the pastor about Brock?”
Curt bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes, but I haven’t seen Brock in weeks. He’s tired of me preaching at him.”
Brock was Curt’s best friend and his former partner in crime when he was terrorizing the Amish and making my life as difficult as possible. Curt may have changed in recent months, but Brock had not. In fact, he had threatened me more than once since Curt gave up a life of crime. Brock believed I was the reason Curt changed, but I knew that couldn’t be true. Regardless, Brock attacked me in December and was charged with assault. Since I decided not to press charges though, he was free and wandered about the county. I suppose a small part of me hoped by giving Brock yet another chance he’d turn his life around. I had been wrong.
“I’m sorry. I know he was your friend.”
“He’s the kind of friend that I don’t need.” His angular face softened. “I need more friends like you.”
I shifted on the bench seat.
He leaned closer to the open window. My instinct was to back away, but I held my ground. Curt wasn’t the enemy any more. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?” he asked. “There’s something important that I need to tell you.”
My scalp tingled. “Can’t you tell me now?”
He shook his head. “I have to finish settling all the details first.”
“Curt, I don’t know.”
“Please.” He searched my face.
“Maybe Timothy and I—”
He scowled. “I want to meet with you. Don’t bring Troyer. It won’t take more than a half hour, I promise.”
“Can I have a hint?”
He face broke into a smile. “No, but you will like it. I promise.”
I bit the inside of my lip. It wouldn’t kill me to have a cup of coffee with Curt, and I knew he needed support and encouragement. He didn’t have much family, and his constant companion Brock had abandoned him. “Okay.”
His face broke into a grin. “Great. Thank you, Red.” He walked back to his green pickup, made another U-turn, and continued on his way into Appleseed Creek. He was gone so quickly. It was almost as if he thought I might change my mind.
Chapter Nine
Back at Young’s, I parked Timothy’s pickup next to the kitchen door. The Young and Troyer families were close friends, so any time the Troyers visited the restaurant Ellie dropped everything to see them. The Troyer children believed it was because Ellie Young, the widowed matriarch of the family, had a crush on Grandfather Zook. The children loved to tease their grandfather about it.
I inhaled the scent of the fresh bread baking coming out of the kitchen window mingling with the scent of spring. A hint of rain hovered underneath the sweet smell of the blooming apple trees. I thought Ohio was always beautiful during its brief spring but there was nothing quite like spring in Ohio’s farmland.
I checked my cell phone. It was one thirty. The tour group would be scattered across the property by now. I turned away from the main building in the direction of the pavilions. That’s where I would most likely find Timothy. Near the entrance to the first pavilion, Hudson squared off in front of Raellen. He jabbed a finger at her, and she shook her overly ringed fist at him in return. That can’t be good.
I wove through throng of shoppers and jogged toward the pair.
“Listen, Lady,” Hudson spat. “You aren’t putting those onto my bus, and that is final.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Raellen argued. “The bus isn’t even full.”
LeeAnne watched their exchange with round eyes. A red-faced Amish teenager stood behind the pair, gripping the handles of a wagon. There were four large boxes in the wagon each the size of an old thirteen inch television. I took the wagon handles from him. “You can go,” I whispered.
Relief washed over his face, and he fled.
Raellen dug her bejeweled hands into her hips. “Miss Chloe, tell this oaf of a man I can put my boxes on the bus.”
Hudson’s hands curved into fists. “It’s not her call. She doesn’t even work for the tour company.”
I stepped between them before it came to blows. “Raellen, we can make arrangements to have your purchases shipped home.”
She jutted out her chin. “That will cost me a fortune.”
“You should have thought about before you handed over your money. You hoarder.”
Raellen and LeeAnne gasped. Raellen stuck her neck out like an angry chicken. “I am most certainly not a hoarder. My home is neat as a pin.” She tugged on her friend’s sleeve. “Isn’t it, LeeAnne?”
LeeAnne nodded. “Yes. Raellen keeps the best house. I wished mine were half as tidy.” She lowered her voice. “She even cleans the keys of her piano with Q-tips and mineral water.”
Hudson closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed to gather strength. “Do you think I care how she cleans her piano? You got to find another way to cart those boxes to Mississippi, or you leave them here. I don’t care. They’re not going on my bus and that’s final.” He stomped away.
Raellen’s mouth fell open. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that, Miss Chloe?”
I sighed. “Raellen, Hudson’s right. I don’t have a say on what can or cannot go on the bus.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. “But I’ve already paid for these. If there was going to be restrictions on space, they should have told us before leaving Mississippi.”
LeeAnne linked her arm through Raellen’s. “That’s right.”
I pulled the wagon to the back door leading from the pavilions to Young’s. “Let’s see about having these shipped.”
The three of us nearly collided with Ellie as she entered the restaurant through the back main door. “Chloe.” Ellie placed a hand on his round middle. “I saw Timothy a little while ago and wondered where you might be. It’s not often that I don’t see the two of you together on a Saturday.” Her eyes twinkled with humor.
Ellie was a widow in her late sixties with steel gray hair peeking out from under her prayer cap. She nodded to the two ladies behind me. “Hello. Are these friends of yours?”
I nodded. “This is Rael
len and LeeAnne, they are from the tour bus.”
Raellen stuck out her hand. “We were on the bus where those two people died. It was awful.”
Ellie shot me a quick glance and turned back to the ladies. “I heard about that. I’m so sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do?”
“I could use some help actually.” Raellen beamed. “I’ve just been shopping in your lovely flea market, and the bus driver won’t let me put my packages on the bus. I don’t know how I’m going to get them home.”
Ellie peered into the wagon. “One of the girls at the gift shop will ship them for you. I’ll take you to her right now.”
“She would? Bless your heart. That is so kind of you.” Raellen clasped her hands.
I was surprised she didn’t cut her fingers on the sharp edges of her jewels.
“It’s no trouble,” Ellie said.
“You go ahead, Raellen. I’ll wait here.” She pointed to one of the white rockers on either side of the cold fireplace.
With Ellie pulling the wagon, she and Raellen headed in the direction of the gift shop.
LeeAnne sighed as she sat in the rocker. “It’s nice to get off of my feet.”
“Care if I join you?” I asked.
She smiled. “Not at all.”
I settled in the rocker on the other side of the fireplace. “Are you enjoying the trip?”
“Very much.” She leaned back in the rocker. “Until this morning. In fact, when we woke up this morning, Raellen and I commented on how well everything was going. I knew we should have knocked on wood. Raellen said I was superstitious to say that, but look what’s happened.”
“How was Dudley as a tour guide? Did you speak with him that much?”
Her black eyebrows knit together. “I won’t speak ill of the dead, but Dudley wasn’t the nicest man I had ever met. Then again, he was a whole lot better host than Hudson. I plan to write a letter of complaint to the tour company about Hudson.”
I leaned forward. “Why? What did he do?”
She tipped her rocker toward the fireplace. “It’s what he doesn’t do. He’s not interested in helping anyone. Many of these people need help off the bus or with carrying their luggage. Hudson won’t lift a finger. He says it’s not part of his job.” She folded her hands in her lap. “And he’s bad tempered too. It was worse when Dudley was here. Those two were like two cats trapped in a burlap bag.”
A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4) Page 7