“Pretty dull with you out of town. I sure do miss you. Gotta go. A call’s coming in.” And with that he was gone.
I hadn’t had time to tell Gil what I had found out about the Mentons, but then again I wasn’t sure I wanted him to know I had been “seeking information.” I had tracked down Clyde and told him I was upset that Caroline had withdrawn from the workshop or rather her brother had withdrawn her. I also shared my suspicions she had been mistreated.
“Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather when she came into the office and signed up. Paid the tuition in cash, mostly small bills,” he had said. “I even asked her if she was sure. See, the Mentons keep themselves pretty isolated up in their place in the canyon. The men come down to town sometimes, but hardly ever see the women or children. Most folks have figured out it’s best to leave them alone.”
“What are they?” I asked. “Some kind of sect or something?”
Clyde shrugged. “Hard to tell. They showed up about the same time as the hippie invasion of the ‘60s and ‘70s, got a piece of land up in the canyon, and just stayed.”
“Where is this canyon?” I asked.
“What? Oh, yes, you’ve never been here before. Beautiful spot. Really should see it before you leave. Here, I’ll draw a map.”
I took Clyde’s map and put it in my briefcase. Maybe I’d use it and maybe I wouldn’t.
The workshop continued and, much as I hated to admit it, Rex was the bright spot. His boundless enthusiasm and optimism infected the whole group. Still, at the end of each day, I couldn’t erase the melancholy I felt when I looked at that empty tenth chair.
By the end of the first week, I was looking forward to two days of sightseeing and relaxation. I skipped breakfast and slept in, but by ten I was heading toward the parking lot and my car.
“Miss Schroeder, hold up.” The man at the front desk was waving a folded piece of paper at me. “This came for you. Some kid brought it.”
As soon as I opened the note, I knew my day of sightseeing would have to wait.
“The story’s done, but Jimmy won’t let me leave and I was afraid to send it with Jacob,” the note said. “What should I do?”
I went back to my room and got the map Clyde had drawn for me. I laid it down on the front desk. “Can you show me on this where the Menton property is?”
“I can but why would you or anyone want to know? They’re a strange bunch of dudes.”
I guess the look I gave him convinced him it was none of his business.
“You go up the highway past a couple of trail heads, the last one is Pine Meadow. The road into their place is the first left after that. Bout five miles out of town. You’re not planning to go there are you?”
“One of the people in my workshop lives there. It’s important that I see her. Thanks for the information,” I said and made a hasty exit.
I found the road without much trouble, but about 30 feet off the highway it was blocked by a green farm gate with a rusted “No Trespassing” sign and secured by a heavy chain and padlock. I got out of my car. There were no buildings in sight, but the road made a sharp right turn and disappeared around some boulders.
Now what, I thought. I went back to the car. Locked my purse inside, put the keys in my jean’s pocket, and climbed over the gate. I got no further than the bend in the road when the man who had been with Caroline stepped out. I remembered his name was Jimmy. He was carrying a large gun over his shoulder.
“What the hell you doing here? Can’t you read? This here’s posted.”
I decided to play it cool. “Oh, hi there, Jimmy. Good to see you. Could you tell Caroline I’m here to see her?”
“She ain’t here. Now git.”
“Where is she? It’s really important that I see her.”
“She ain’t here,” he said again and took the gun off his shoulder. “Now move your sorry ass.”
I was getting ready to move my sorry ass when a figure jumped out behind Jimmy, screaming. Jimmy, in one move, swung the rifle around and there was a dull thud. Then the rifle swung back around and pointed at me. As I turned to run, he fired a shot over my head. At the same time, I caught a glimpse of Caroline sprawled in the dirt with her face covered in blood.
I fumbled for my cell phone as I backed out of the road to the highway, barely escaping being turned into road kill by the semi that barreled by. When I dialed 911, the only thing I got was “out of service area.” I careened down the highway, redialing every minute. Finally I was connected. I recited my position and the problem as calmly as possible, while looking desperately for a place to turn around.
“I’ll meet you there. Bring bolt cutters. And hurry.” I ended the call before the operator could issue any warnings. I had to get back. I suspected it was going to take the Sheriff’s people a long time to get to Mentons’ place. I didn’t know how yet, but I had to help Caroline.
I left my car on the side of the highway so the ambulance and patrol cars could get through. It had been more than 20 minutes since I had made my escape. There was no one in sight as I scrambled over the gate and ran to the bend in the road where the confrontation had taken place. No Jimmy. No Caroline. Just a black pool in the dust, covered with flies. A trail of black blobs led away toward a barn a little further down the road.
There was a fenced lot with a small herd of goats lined up around a galvanized stock tank. I could see what looked like overall clad legs hanging over the edge of the tank. “Oh, my, God, Caroline.” I jerked open the gate. The goats fled in front of me as I ran to the tank. I grabbed the legs by the ankles and pulled. The body was dripping water and strings of algae. The lifeless eyes that stared up at me were not Caroline’s, they were Jimmy’s.
“Hi, Miss Schroeder,” a voice behind me said. “Good of you to come back.”
As I turned around, Caroline stepped out of the barn.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He tripped and fell, trying to catch me. Guess he knocked himself out.”
“But when he hit you…” I paused. “I thought you were dead.”
“Nope, I’m pretty good at dodging him. Mostly just blood.”
“But how’d he get in the tank?”
She shrugged. “Seemed a good idea. I thought the cold water would bring him to, so I hoisted him in. I’m a lot stronger than I look,” she said.
“But he’s dead,”
Caroline smiled. “I guess Jimmy didn’t know how to breathe under water.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Dessie’s Jaded Past
By Lesley A. Diehl
In the cozy mystery Angel Sleuth we meet Kaitlin Singer who has moved from the city to her childhood home in the Catskill Mountains to write her children’s books and try to get her life in order after her divorce. Her peaceful existence has just begun when she is joined by a trio of roommates; Mary Jane, her son Jeremy and a potbellied pig named Desdemona. Mary Jane claims to be a cousin. Jeremy claims they are guardian angels. Kaitlin doesn’t know what to believe, but in the story that follows, she finds that that Desdemona has a somewhat shady past, one that might prove helpful in tracking down a killer.
Something went bang in the closet, startling Kaitlin as she worked at her computer. When she turned to look, Desdemona, the potbellied pig, poked her head out of the door.
“Jeremy. Come get your pig. She’s gotten into my closet again. And this time she’s,” Kaitlin laughed at the sight, “this time she’s wearing one of my old prom dresses.” Dessie strode across the room, dragging pink netting from her snout. She plopped down near Kaitlin’s chair and looked into her face.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s been getting into everything.” Nine-year old Jeremy entered the room carrying one of his many rescue animals, this one a flop-eared rabbit.
Technically the pig was Jeremy’s, saved from becoming Easter dinner when Jeremy intervened with the owner. Kaitlin took care of Dessie when Jeremy was off at school or working with
his mother, Mary Jane. Both of them had moved in with Kaitlin early in the summer, and Kaitlin’s life had not been the same after their arrival. It wasn’t just the menagerie of animals now living in the house that disrupted Kaitlin’s routine, but it was the unusual line of work Mary Jane claimed as hers. Jeremy had announced it the very first day they arrived on Kaitlin’s front steps.
“We’re guardian angels,” he said.
Kaitlin had been grappling with whether she believed that or not and hadn’t yet reached any conclusion.
“Wow. Look at the time.” She pushed back from the desk, grabbed her purse off the bed and untangled Dessie from her party attire. “We’re due at the school. C’mon, Dessie, you’re up.”
Dessie’s eyes took on an eager look.
“She likes going with you when you read to the kids from one of your books.” Jeremy patted his pig on the head. “Be a good girl.”
The school was only several blocks from Kaitlin’s house, so she and Dessie walked. Everything in the small Catskill mountain hamlet of Aldensville was only blocks apart. It was where Kaitlin had grown up, and now where she chose to reside writing her children’s books. She had abandoned the one about buzzards when she met Dessie and decided instead to write about a potbellied pig. Having a real potbelly when she visited schools was a plus. The kids loved Dessie.
They entered the door in the wing of the building that housed the high school because Kaitlin wanted to walk down the halls she remembered so well from her days there. Dessie, being the well-behaved piggy she was, walked at her side, no leash. Suddenly she stopped and rammed her snout up against a locker.
“Dessie come away from there.” Kaitlin moved toward her, but Dessie seemed determined to shove and push against the metal door.
The bell ran for change of classes. Dessie continued worrying the locker, now throwing her full weight against it, ignoring the crowds of kids in the hallway, some of whom surrounded her, fascinated by the little porker. The metal door banged, Dessie’s shove threatening to dent it.
“Hey get that barnyard slop away from my locker.” A tall, skinny boy with brown greasy hair pushed through the crowd and, before Kaitlin could stop him, slapped Dessie on her rear.
“Don’t abuse my pig.” Kaitlin stepped up to the kid, forcing him to back away.
Dessie had turned from the locker and began snuffling and poking around the kid’s sneakers and jeans.
Kaitlin snapped a leash on Dessie and pulled her away. The kid and Kaitlin exchanged angry glances.
As she led Dessie around the corner toward the wing where the second grade classroom they were to visit was located, Kaitlin talked in a low voice to the pig. “What’s gotten into you, girl? You try to crawl into every space your fat body will fit. What are you looking for?”
At the sound of concern in Kaitlin’s voice, Dessie glanced up and gave her a look which seemed to say she was sorry. Kaitlin assumed potbellies could apologize for bad behavior. She was sure she’d seen her do it before.
The reading went well, the children crowded around Dessie, petting and hugging her, and Dessie was her usual friendly self, grunting happily at the children’s attentions.
“Good girl, Dessie. Let’s stop at the Cappuccino Café, and I’ll buy you a day old corn muffin.”
With a wave goodbye to the children and an urp and grunt of appreciation from Dessie, Kaitlin and the pig set out for downtown Aldensville.
Dessie sped ahead on the sidewalk, making her short legs go faster, her chubby sides swaying back and forth in a swish of happiness.
At the café everyone made over Dessie. She was, after all, the town’s most important pig and was much admired for the role she played in helping Kaitlin capture the killer of the newspaper’s advice columnist. Kaitlin drank several espressos while Dessie downed two day old pastries given to her by the café’s owners. Free to the brave pig. After all, Dessie was considered something of a hero.
The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.
“We’ve stayed too long. Now we’ll get caught in the rain on the way home. Let’s go, Dessie. We’ll take the shortcut through the alley behind the feed store.”
Outside the dark clouds rolled in over the far ridge, and the wind set the tree branches dancing in a wild fury.
“We’ll have to hurry.” Kaitlin urged Dessie to go faster, knowing that all those pastries were weighing her down. Huge droplets of rain fell, soaking her before she could pull her sweatshirt hood over her head. The wind blew the rain in sideways torrents, and the sky grew black as if it were night.
When they entered the alley, Kaitlin spotted a car at the far end, its front driver’s side door open. Two men appeared to be arguing, but didn’t notice Kaitlin and Dessie in the alleyway now darkened by the oncoming storm. The wind howled. Over the noise of the wind Kaitlin heard a loud pop, and she watched one of the men drop to the ground. The other stood over him, then looked up the alley and spotted Kaitlin and Dessie a half block away.
Dessie pulled at the leash and moved toward the man.
“No, Dessie. This way.” Kaitlin turned to retreat, but Dessie pulled hard enough that the leash flew out of Kaitlin’s hand and off she waddled toward the men and the car. The man standing over the other hesitated as if trying to decide what he was going to do. Through the wall of rain, Kaitlin saw him turn for a moment toward the oncoming pig, his hand raised, a gun aimed at Dessie. Kaitlin held her breath.
“No!” She threw herself down the alley, knowing she’d never make it in time to save Dessie.
He leveled his gaze on Kaitlin, then lowered his hand, pulled up the collar on his leather coat and ran down the alley in the opposite direction, the rain and black sky swallowing her view of him.
Not realizing she was holding her breath, she took a quick gasp of air and approached the man on the ground. A black hole marked the middle of his forehead and blood pooled beneath his head. Kaitlin turned away from the horrible sight and took her phone out of her bag. There was little doubt the guy was dead, but she phoned for an ambulance then called her friend in the Bureau of Criminal Investigations, Jim Wallace.
Jim answered after only one ring. “Are you sure the shooter left?”
“Yes. He ran out of the alley, and I’m sure I heard a car start and drive off.”
“I’ll be right there. Back away from the body and don’t touch anything.”
“Of course. I know that.” She wasn’t about to touch anything, but then there was Dessie, who had crawled through the open door and into the car and was pushing and shoving and digging at the back seat. At least she was dryer than Kaitlin. Rain dripped from Kaitlin’s hair and into her eyes.
When Jim arrived, he was not happy to see Dessie in the back seat. “She’s mucked up my crime scene, you know.”
“I don’t get what’s with her lately. She likes to push into small spaces, then she digs around and shoves her snout against surfaces as if she’s looking for something. Usually I can pull her out but she did it today to a kid’s locker at school. Can you help me get her out of there?”
Dessie seemed determined to stay, squealing in protest as Jim and Kaitlin both tugged her off the seat and between them carried her down the alley. When they set her down, she continued a low squeal, then panted and finally dropped her head onto her outstretched front legs and looked up at Kaitlin with sorrowful eyes.
“I think she’s crying. I’m missing something here, and I don’t know what.”
Jim seemed uninterested in Dessie’s plight. “You got a look at the shooter. Could you identify him?”
“I doubt it. With all the rain and those dark clouds I couldn’t see much of anything. He did have on a leather jacket.”
“That’s it? I put any guy with a leather jacket in a lineup? You’re not much help.”
Kaitlin shrugged. She and Jim liked one another, maybe more than liked, but somehow the emotional tension between them often erupted into a squabble of some kind. It had happened earlier in the summer when she
and Jim had just met and were trying to track down the advice columnist’s killer. Back and forth they went between flirtatious warmth and frustrating irritation with each other.
“I’m taking my pig to the vet. I’ll do a lineup if you think it would help.”
She knew Jim didn’t hear her. He was too busy muttering about pig snot on the car’s interior.
*
“What happened to you two? You’re soaking wet and Desdemona looks like she’s depressed.” Mary Jane, dressed in her usual flamboyant style, this time a gypsy skirt in bold primary colors and a peasant blouse, appeared to have been waiting for them at the door. She rushed upstairs and came down with towels, one of which she tossed Kaitlin’s way. The others she drew around Dessie and enveloped her in terry and kisses.
At the kitchen table with Dessie nearby on the floor, Jeremy beside her, hugging his pig and making cooing sounds to comfort her, Kaitlin recounted the events of the day.
Mary Jane tipped her chair back on two legs and was silent for a moment. “Looks like you’ve got yourself another murder to solve.”
“Me? I’m staying out of this one.”
Mary Jane rocked her chair forward and pointed one red lacquered nail at Kaitlin. “But you saw the guy who did it.”
“It was too dark and rainy to identify him. I told Jim that.”
“And he was disappointed in you.”
Kaitlin nodded. “We don’t get along well.”
Mary Jane had taken a sip of her coffee and almost snorted it through her nose. “Oh, please. That’s like saying Mac and I don’t get along.” Mac was Mary Jane’s pool playing boyfriend, a rugged retired New York City detective.
“There’s something like pheromones in the air when the two of you get together. Jim and I don’t have that.”
“Not yet, but it will happen.”
“Now you can predict the future?” Kaitlin wished it was true. In fact, she sometimes wanted to believe Mary Jane was an angel and could do magical things, just as sometimes if the light was right she thought she saw a kind of halo around Mary Jane’s head. “Anyway, I can’t help in this case. No one could pick the guy out of a line-up.”
The Untreed Detectives Page 5