I hadn’t noticed that Jake was observing, too, but he stood on the boardwalk across from me and Evan and waved when we made eye contact. I was glad to see him. Amy’s idea had made me think of something that I wanted to do, and if he was available, he’d be the perfect partner.
As Amy and the others loaded into their van, Cliff walked toward me and Evan.
“It’d be great to have you both join us for breakfast,” he said.
Evan and I shared another conspiratorial smile.
“You want some hometown support, don’t you?” I said.
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“As much fun as it sounds, I’d like to talk to Jake. You okay if I pass?” I said.
“Of course. Evan?”
“Sure. I’m hungry, and nothing else is calling me away,” Evan said.
“That’s great news. Thanks.”
“I must admit,” I said, “she was interesting to watch in action.”
“She’s very good at her job,” Cliff said. “She’s just very . . . assertive.”
“This’ll be fun,” Evan said genuinely.
Evan had come to Broken Rope after losing his family to a terrible tragedy. Though a shadow of sorrow was still his constant companion, there were moments when it seemed that shadow might be waning slightly. Because they’d worked together on solving a decades-old mystery surrounding a fire at a famous bakery, he and Cliff had also formed a solid friendship. Cliff, Jake, Evan, and I had had a few dinners at Bunny’s together, and it had been good to see Evan begin to come out of his shell. I couldn’t imagine the pain he’d experienced and probably would experience for the rest of his life, in one way or another.
“See you later?” Cliff said to me.
“For sure,” I said, before I hurried over to Jake. “What are you doing up so early?” I asked him.
“Just awake,” he said with a forced, casual tone.
I looked at him.
“Hang on. You haven’t been home, have you? You spent the night with Esther, didn’t you? If you were upset with her about what I told you, you got over it, didn’t you?”
“Betts, I’m not good at this sort of thing. You know I don’t like to talk about it, but it’s not what you think. Yes, we were together, but not together-together. After our talk last night, Esther and I ended up talking, too. We’ve only just met, Betts. I didn’t expect us to have so much to discuss, but it seems we do.”
“Just talk?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s too bad.”
“Betts!”
“Jake, you are amazing. The fact that you don’t kiss and tell makes you even more wonderful. I hope you enjoyed your evening.”
“I did.”
I wanted to ask more about what Esther had said about her and Teddy and the significance of a letter, but I didn’t want to risk ruining Jake’s good mood. I’d ask later if I still wanted to.
“Good. Now, want to come with me to the campsite?” I said.
“Sure, but why?”
“I need to talk to Orly again.”
“About?”
“His gun collection.”
“Okay. You sure we shouldn’t bring Cliff?”
“We could wait for him, and we probably should, because we’re going to be asking about firearms, but Orly did me a favor by taking me to Teddy before the world knew about the beating. I’d like to keep my suspicions to myself until I know for sure that the police might need to take a closer look. I think there will be plenty of people around. We’ll be fine. Cliff’s taking the crew from St. Louis to breakfast; he’ll be busy for a while.”
“Let’s go.”
• • •
The two campfires had already been lit, and from the smell of things were warming cowboy coffee and cooking bacon and eggs and probably some biscuits. A couple trails of smoke reached up to the blue sky as I parked the Nova on the back road, close to Orly’s tent and across from the Express station. My mouth watered with all the breakfast scents.
“You think the ghosts are all gone?” Jake said as he glanced at the station. On the way to the campsite, I had told him the details of our ghostly encounters and departures.
“I haven’t seen or heard from any of them this morning, but it’s early.”
“They left without the answers they were looking for? That’s a first.”
“I know. It bothers me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I hope they’ll all come back someday and we can learn more.”
“If Joe knew Astin, and Jerome had an idea where Astin’s remains were located, we were so close to answering some interesting questions. I must have been wrong about the letter or the reasons for the letter.”
I laughed. “Jake, trust me, none of this ghost business is predictable, and much of it is frustrating. I’m trying not to let it bother me too much. I’m sorry if involving you has made you emotionally invested, too. I probably shouldn’t have done that to you.”
“Are you kidding? I love my involvement. I just wish I was even more involved.”
“Come on, maybe we can figure something else out, something from the world of the living,” I said as I threw the Nova into park.
The morning was as perfect a spring morning as you could get in southern Missouri. The smells from the campfires, the breakfasts being cooked, and the coffee being boiled made me want to find a comfortable chair somewhere and listen to someone recite some cowboy poetry. Of all the activities, skits, and poetry that had surrounded me over the last little bit, I hadn’t taken the time to enjoy the true creativity that the convention had to offer. But neither had Norman Bytheway, and at least I’d still have more chances.
Orly exited his tent just as we closed the Nova’s doors. He waved us over. He wore the same type of clothes I’d already seen him in: jeans and an embroidered cowboy shirt. But the typical vest and hat were missing. He looked incomplete without them.
He carried a blue tin mug. I thought that coffee probably tasted a hundred times better out of those mugs than any others. I hadn’t had my own cup yet this morning, though, so that might have just been caffeine withdrawal speaking.
“Betts and Jake, goodness, it’s early. Come on over, we’ll round up some breakfast for you.”
Orly unfolded a few chairs that had been leaning against the front pole of his tent.
“You two here for something specific or do you have time to sit a bit and chat?” he said as he placed the chairs in a comfortable triangle.
Jake looked at me. I still hadn’t told him why we were there.
“Both,” I said.
“Good enough. Sit.” Orly signaled someone down a neighboring aisle.
Gary appeared a second later. He tipped his hat at me and said. “Miss.”
“Hi, Gary, how are you today?”
“Right as rain rolling through some mane,” he said with what I thought was a hiccup, even though there was no indication he was drunk or had been drinking.
“Good to hear.”
“Gary,” Orly said, “would you grab our guests some breakfast from one of the fires?”
“Yes, sir,” he said before he turned and walked away. The hitch I’d noticed the night before was still present.
“You met Gary?” Orly said.
“I did. Nice man,” I said.
“He is. So, tell me, friends, what can I do for you?” Orly asked.
“I have a question, Orly, and it’s a little uncomfortable to ask it, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I offend you.”
“Of course.”
“You brought some guns to the convention, didn’t you?” I said.
“I did, Betts, and I might know what you’re getting at, but I showed them to the police after Norman was shot. They said he hadn’t been killed with any of them, and they chastised me something fierce for bringing the shotgun out yesterday. I didn’t think the police meant ‘shotgun’ when they confiscated all guns. I was under the impression that they meant handguns. I didn’t fire yesterday, thoug
h.”
“Do you know the kind of gun Norman was killed with?” I said.
“No.”
“A .38 Special,” I said. I watched him closely. His eyes pinched but only briefly.
“That’s quite a weapon,” he said.
Gary reappeared quickly and handed Jake and me each a plate overflowing with bacon, eggs, and sausage, and our own blue tin mugs of coffee. I balanced the plate on my lap and took a sip of the hot and perfect coffee. When the gun had been dropped the night before, I hadn’t allowed myself to think too long or hard about how horrible the outcome might have been. We could easily have had another tragedy on our hands. But later last night, long after I’d talked with Cliff on my back porch, an idea had sprung to my mind. Even though everybody was supposed to turn in their firearms to the police, apparently not everyone had. Orly had the shotgun, and the convention attendee’s gun, even with his good intentions of showing it to the police, had been loaded. He’d dropped it. Guns had been forgotten, accidentally and maybe even on purpose. And I’d come to learn that Orly probably never wanted to be forthcoming with the police. It was partially the way of the cowboy, partially just plain old stubbornness.
“You ever have one of those? A .38 Special, I mean,” I said after I swallowed.
Orly looked younger without the hat and the vest, but my question pained him so much that he suddenly looked older than he had in the short time that I’d known him.
“I was afraid of that,” he said.
“You brought one with you?”
“I wasn’t sure if I had or not. I thought I had one in the equipment box of my truck, Betts, but I wasn’t sure.” Orly shook his head. “I’m ashamed to admit that. I should know where every gun is, and whether it’s loaded or not. When Norman was killed and I didn’t see the gun in the truck, I thought there was a chance I hadn’t brought it. There’s no one at home I feel like I can ask to check the gun case. The police wouldn’t tell me what weapon was used on poor Norman, but . . . Well, now I just hope it wasn’t mine. Maybe I should have told them that that gun being here was a possibility, but I thought . . . well, I should have said something.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry, even with the smells wafting up from my plate. It appeared that Jake wasn’t either.
“I didn’t kill him. If it was my gun that was used, it was stolen,” Orly said.
“I’m betting on the fact that you’re telling me the truth, Orly. I don’t think you killed him either, but I do think you should tell the police.” I looked at Jake. He nodded. “Orly, just call Jim or Cliff right now and tell them that you just realized that a gun was missing from your truck. Let them know. They’ll question you, but hopefully you can come up with a few specific people who might have had access to the equipment box.”
His truck and storage box had been accessible to everyone at the convention, parked outside, but maybe there were others who he’d let borrow the vehicle.
“I can do that,” he said with a small, barely noticeable cringe.
“Orly?” I said. “There’s more, isn’t there? You know more? Maybe exactly who took your gun?”
Orly had probably played a game or two of poker over the years, but he must not have done well. He had the worst poker face. The small cringe transformed into a worried frown.
“Isabelle,” a voice said behind me.
I turned quickly and said, “Jerome, you’re back!”
Of course, neither Jake nor Orly could see the ghost. There was so much light that I barely could.
“Excuse me?” Orly said. “Do you see someone you know?”
“I found him, Isabelle. Can you come with me? Now? I think we need to hurry,” Jerome said.
I turned back to Orly and Jake. Orly was looking over my shoulder, and Jake held his cup of coffee halfway to his mouth, his eyes open wide.
“I’m sorry, Orly. Jake and I have to go. I know I’m acting strangely. Forgive me. But whatever you know, you need to call the police and tell them. Right away.” I stood and placed the plate and cup on my chair. I wasn’t even going to offer to wash up. Gram would be disappointed. Even though Jerome had come back or perhaps hadn’t truly left, he might not be staying long. I truly didn’t think Orly had killed Norman or beaten Teddy. I hoped not. I even hoped the murder weapon hadn’t been his gun. I prayed that leaving Orly to call the police on his own wasn’t a stupid move.
“Of course, Betts,” Orly said as he stood, too.
Jake, Jerome, and I made a strange and awkward departure.
“You can count on me, miss.” Gary had followed us to the car. “I’ll make sure the scoundrel calls.”
Scoundrel?
“Thank you, Gary,” I said with one last look at Orly, who watched us as he stood with his hands in his front pockets.
“May we go now, Isabelle?” Jerome said.
“Sure.”
I smiled quickly at Gary, hoping we weren’t hurrying away from something else he wanted or needed to tell us, too. I hoped I wasn’t making two mistakes at once by leaving that campsite when we did.
As I turned the car around and drove away from Orly’s tent and Gary’s friendly wave, I pulled out my cell phone and called Cliff. Surprisingly, the call went straight to his voice mail. I left a message about him needing to talk to Orly about the gun. I hoped he’d pick it up soon.
Jake said, “That was strange. I’m guessing Jerome is with us.”
“He’s in the backseat.”
“Excellent. Good to not see you again, Jerome.”
Jerome laughed, the anxiousness I’d heard in his tone now mellowed, most likely because we’d done what he said and were quickly on our way. “I like him, Betts.”
“He likes you,” I said.
“I like him, too, especially if he shows us Astin Reagal’s remains.”
Jerome laughed again. “He drives a hard bargain.”
Chapter 25
“I’ve at least figured out the general vicinity of where the remains were located,” Jerome said. “I don’t understand why it became such an obsession for me, Isabelle, but it did. More important than you, than the memories I’ve had of Elsa, I’ve felt the undeniable need to find this man’s bones. I’ve been looking since I left the campsite last night. I’m sorry you thought I’d left to go—well, left to wherever I go when I’m not in Broken Rope.”
“You were MIA last night when another ghost showed up. Astin Reagal himself. I think he and the other ghosts did leave.”
Jerome huffed an ironic laugh. “That figures. I can’t stop looking for his remains and he showed up when I wasn’t there.”
“I doubt he could have helped much. He wasn’t there long and his memory was still pretty weak.”
“I couldn’t have abandoned my search even if I’d wanted to. I was compelled to be where I was.”
I nodded and looked in the rearview mirror. Jerome’s attention was focused outside the car, off to the left.
“Where should we look, Jerome?” I said.
“Out there.” Jerome pointed toward the east, the left. “Out toward my old farm.”
Before now, I’d never considered visiting the site of Jerome’s old farm. I’d never even asked about it. I didn’t know what might be left of it, but initial appearances told me that nothing was left.
“It’s been unused for a while, right?” I asked.
“I think since I farmed it, but I can’t be sure.”
“No farm, Jake. Just land,” I said.
“I thought as much,” he said as he leaned forward and looked out toward the wide open space that was somewhat woodsy with trees, but mostly just covered in tall grasses.
“Should we go look?” I said.
“Yes, but first I need to tell you something. A story of sorts,” Jerome said.
I conveyed the comment to Jake and told him I’d share the story as soon as Jerome finished.
Jerome began. “You said not long ago that the rules for ‘your’ ghosts keep changing.
I think this is another one of those changes.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s not too bad. Really. It’s just something new and different, and frankly, not about you at all.”
“Okay.”
“Strange things always happen, right? I mean, life is full of surprises, and even mysteries.”
“That’s true. So is death, apparently.”
“Apparently. Something happened to me, Isabelle, something when I was alive. I only remembered it right before I came to find you this morning. I think it’s what put me in such a hurry. I suppose the incident shouldn’t be too much of a surprise considering the state I’m currently in, but I have a distinct memory that I was haunted when I was alive.”
“Really?” I sat up a little.
“I think so—and I think by the ghost of Astin Reagal.” Jerome chuckled once. “I wasn’t as welcoming as you’ve been to me, though. If I remember correctly, I was scared silly.”
“Well, your experience didn’t include an immediate, though mysterious, attraction.” I smiled.
Even though he wasn’t in on both sides of the conversation, Jake sent me a withering look.
“No,” Jerome said. “I suppose if my ghost had been a pretty redhead, I might have been more curious than scared. Anyway, he wasn’t pretty at all. It was a brief encounter. I was out in my fields. Corn, I think. I had much better luck with cattle than I did any crops, but I surely tried.
“I was working away in the hot humidity and thought I saw something at the end of the row. I left the horses and the tiller because I thought maybe I’d seen a man, a hurt man. I ran to the end of the row, which bordered a patch of trees. There was a road a ways farther down and I know it used to be a path that was heavily traveled, but at the time I didn’t make all the connections.
“The man that I saw was on his side on the ground, and I was certain I saw twisted legs and a bloody face.”
“That’s sounds terrible.”
“It’s why I ran. But when I got to the trees, the image disappeared. I thought I was being overtaken by the heat. Perhaps I just needed some water, maybe some food. But then I heard a voice. It said, ‘Please find me. I’m right here.’ Of course I looked around again for the man, the body, anything attached to the voice. I didn’t find anything right off, but I was surely shaken.”
If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery) Page 20