“You have a law degree?” Lil asked. “Why are you on the police force?”
“I found out after a few years of law practice that I was really more interested in the enforcement side of things.” He turned to Dean. “What needs to be done to close this place down?”
“I have signs.” Dean held up a folder. “I’ll also put it out on the social media. The doors all have deadbolts on them. What about the museum?”
“That’s separate enough that it doesn’t need to close.”
“Well, that should make Mrs. Eldridge a little happier. So if you are done with us, can we leave?”
Wilkins looked up. “I’ll have more questions for all of you. Are your wife’s cousins staying with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call you later today. It looks like there’s going to be no golf for me tomorrow.”
“I suppose not,” Dean said. “I’ll let the others know.” He beckoned to Max and Lil and ushered them out the door. He taped one of the closed signs to the door after they closed it. They crossed to the museum by the catwalk.
When they returned to the main floor, Mrs. Eldridge was in the volunteer office. Dean explained about the closing of the windmill but not the museum.
Mrs. Eldridge heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness! I was kind of hard on Charles, wasn’t I? I’ll need to apologize to him. I know he’s just doing his job. Dean, will you help out in the village since you aren’t giving tours of the mill? I think with the good weather, the crowd could be huge.” Then her face fell, and her eyes teared up. “I can’t believe what happened to Peter. Such a nice man and so generous.”
“Did you know him well?” Lil asked.
“Oh—well—yes, I did.” Her cheeks colored a little, and she busied herself with a stack of papers on the desk. She turned to Lil and Max. “Be sure you check out the quilt display when you go through the Founders’ Village. There are some wonderful quilts there, all locally made by my quilting club.”
“Oh, you’re a quilter, too?” Lil asked. “I love quilting.”
“That’s good,” Mrs. Eldridge said and turned back to the desk. She pulled a couple of sheets out of the center of a stack and handed them to Dean. “Here’s the information about the sod house and depot. Thank you for doing this.” She turned to answer a phone.
“No. No. You’ll have to talk to the police. We have no comment.” She hung up and turned back to them. “It’s starting. That was a Des Moines TV station.” The phone rang again and Dean, Max, and Lil took the opportunity to escape.
Chapter Four
Dean led them to a door out of the back of the museum to the Founders’ Village. Max and Lil had to show the tickets they had purchased earlier. A young woman of maybe twenty-five or so, with long flaxen braids protruding from a snowy-white winged cap, took their tickets and welcomed them. She handed them each a half-sheet of paper with a map of the buildings.
The crowd was growing. As the sisters passed clusters of people, most seemed to be glancing around nervously and exchanging serious whispers instead of paying attention to the tour guides. The somber mood contrasted with the bright tulips in beds around the buildings.
“Word must be out about the murder,” Max said.
Lil nodded. “I think you’re right. It sounds like that guy—the victim—is pretty well known.”
“Don’t forget, there are a lot of outsiders in town, too.” Max shook her head. “Can you believe this is happening again?”
Lil smiled weakly. “With you around, yes.”
Max huffed. She pointed at a frame cottage to their left. “Should we start over there?”
As they neared the building, Lil squinted at a sandwich board out front. “Oh, goody. That’s where the quilt display is. How fun!”
“Great,” Max said.
“You’ll enjoy it. Think of it like an art museum.”
“I don’t like those either.”
Each room was stripped of most furnishings and decorations. Instead, colorful quilts hung from racks on the white-washed walls and draped over floor stands. Neatly printed cards listed the name of the pattern, the maker or makers, and the date.
Max gave each a cursory look, admitted that they were “pretty,” and moved on to the next room while Lil studied each meticulously. She commented on the patterns, the piecing, the size of the stitches, and the fabric combinations with expertise. She was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice when Max disappeared.
Max soon had circled the house and went back out in the sunshine. A red painted park bench sat along the sidewalk amidst a riot of flowers, so she made herself comfortable at one end of the bench. She wished she had a coffee and one of those Dutch letters.
What a morning! The discovery of a body under such bizarre circumstances was hardly to be believed. Well, it had happened to her and Lil before, but still. And for what possible reason would the murderer stage things like that?
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice she had company until a somewhat familiar voice said, “Mind if I sit here?”
She looked up into the face of James Meijer. He stood nonchalantly with his sweater slung over his shoulder. “Oh, of course not! James, isn’t it?”
“Right.” He snapped his fingers. “You are one of Bess Gregory’s cousins.” He swung his sweater around over his arm and sat down. “Are you enjoying the museum and the village?”
“We just started, but it’s very nice. Surely you’ve been here many times?”
“Me? Oh, sure. I’m just checking things that the Heritage Committee wants to make sure are in tip-top shape for our visitors.” He took a breath and then said, “I don’t know what this murder is going to do to the crowds. Of course, Peter will be greatly missed too—he had lots of friends and contributed to many causes in town. But the Tulip Fest is a huge chunk of the town’s economy. I’m sure this death will make the national news and probably affect the crowds in the future.”
Max said, “It doesn’t sound like Mr. DeVries had many enemies.”
“None that I know of.” He shook his head, and looked steadily at Max. “Really odd thing though. I came by Peter’s house a couple of hours ago, and the cops were there. According to the scanner, it was a robbery—even the flower gardens were dug up.”
Max frowned. “Flower gardens? Why on earth—? What was stolen?”
James looked around and lowered his voice. “Um—I don’t know for sure. But word was that Peter was trying to redevelop the Semper Augustus, the most expensive tulip ever developed. It was popular in the 1600s but it disappeared. See, growers try to come up with new hybrids every year, and it takes a lot of—”
Max waved her hand impatiently. “I was a botany professor. I know what’s involved. Most of those variegated varieties were caused by a virus. But ‘working on it’ is a long way from succeeding.”
“He told a couple of people that he thought he had it.”
“Is it worth murdering for?”
James sat back on the bench and crossed his arms. “To some people. Here’s your sister.”
Lil exited the door, gave Max a big smile and sighed. “What beautiful work. I’m all inspired now.” Then she noticed James. “Good morning! You’re Bess and Dean’s neighbor, right?”
He jumped up. “Yes. Sit here. I need to move on anyway and see if any of the sites need anything. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He bowed with a flourish and headed down the walk. Lil watched him go. Something about him bothered her.
Max got up. “I’m ready to check out the other buildings, too. Are you, or do you need to rest?”
Lil humphed. “It looks like you’re going on whether I’m ready or not.”
“Whatever,” Max said. “I think they’re giving demonstrations in the blacksmith shop next door.”
“Well, wait up!” Lil hurried off in Max’s wake. “You know, when we met that James last night, I thought he was pretty dapper guy, but in the daylight he doesn’t look so hot.”
“So his murder might have had something to do with these special tulips?”
Max shrugged. “As good a guess as any, I suppose.”
They moved into the crowd at the blacksmith shop, straining to see what the smithy was working on.
“Looks like a set of fire tools,” Lil said.
A woman in front of her turned slightly and nodded. “It is.”
They watched what they could for a few minutes and listened to the rhythmic clanging until Max said, “Let’s move on. Maybe come back here when the crowd isn’t so big.”
The next building was a restored log cabin. A woman demonstrated cooking over an open fireplace while, on the other side of the cabin, another woman strung apples for drying. It would have been a little out of season for the pioneers, but Max could make allowances.
Three women stood near the cooking presentation but were more engrossed in their own conversation. Max decided it was more interesting too.
“Did you call Helen? Does she know?”
“I didn’t call her.”
“My Trent is on the rescue squad. He said the hospital called her.”
“Really. I’m surprised.”
“What a horrible death. I mean, why would someone do that?”
“And to someone like Peter. Everyone liked him.”
“Apparently not everyone.” The women moved away to the dried apple lady.
When Max and Lil got to an old train depot that had been moved into the pioneer village setup, they found Dean in an engineer’s cap explaining the signal system to a group. He nodded at them and when he finished his spiel, walked over to where they sat on a wooden bench.
“You are a man of many hats,” Lil said.
“And I change at a whim.” He smiled and then looked apologetic. “Are you able to enjoy your visit? The crowd is certainly somber.”
“Not surprising,” Max said. “Was Peter DeVries married?”
Dean shook his head. “A life-long bachelor.”
“We heard some women talking about whether someone named Helen had been notified,” Lil said.
“Hmm—I had heard rumors to that effect. Helen Bakke is a very wealthy local widow. The grapevine had it that they started seeing each other. How sad to have it end like that.” Dean’s phone rang. “Hello? Is there a problem, Wanita? Oh, she’s right here.” He covered the phone and said to Lil, “She wants to talk to the one who likes to quilt.”
Lil took the phone. “Hello?
“I want to apologize for being so rude earlier,” Wanita Eldridge said. “And I wanted to be sure and tell you that we have a great quilting shop just down the street.”
“Really? I will have to get there before we leave. And there’s no need to apologize. You had every right to be upset.”
Mrs. Eldridge said, “Thank you for being so understanding. Say, I’m off work on Monday. I would be glad to take you there Monday morning.”
“I’d love to,” Lil said. “I don’t think we have anything on then.” She looked at Dean. “Is there anything on Monday morning?”
He shrugged. “Not as far as I know.”
Lil returned to the phone. “Yes, I’m available and I’d love to go.”
“Let’s plan on it. Say, eleven o’clock? If something comes up, you can always call me. Dean has my number.”
Lil related the conversation to Dean.
Dean nodded. “I thought she was pretty abrupt and not herself.”
A middle-aged man tapped Dean on the shoulder and asked about restrooms. As he left, Lil said, “We’ll talk to you later. We’re meeting Bess for lunch.”
“Yes. I just talked to her a few minutes ago and gave her the news. You’re meeting her at the Dutch Treat?”
Max grimaced. “I think they take these ‘cute ‘ names a little too far.”
“Maybe.” Dean was not a confrontational guy. “The owner is Mrs. Eldridge’s son, Harry.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut and not offend anyone,” Max said.
“Ha! That’ll be a first.” At a stony stare from her sister, Lil held up her hands. “Just kidding. Just kidding.”
Dean cleared his throat. “If you take a left when you leave the museum, the Dutch Treat is just on the other side of the square. An easy walk if you want to leave your car here. Parking might be tight.”
Max put her hand on his arm. “Thanks, Dean. I know it’s been a terrible day, and I didn’t mean to insult you or the town. We’ll take a quick look at the other buildings before we go.”
“No offense taken. Have a nice lunch.”
Chapter Five
The Dutch Treat had a crisp white exterior, with blue shutters and a window box full of colorful annuals framing the large front window. Inside, bustling waitresses, murmuring voices, and the clatter of dishes filled the room. Bess was already there and had snagged a table.
Lil had spent the walk over reprimanding Max for her sarcastic comments. Being the oldest, Max was not used to being dressed down by her younger siblings. They usually just put up with her. Between the dead body and her sister’s lecture, she was now in a really foul mood.
“Looks like we’ll be lucky to ever get served here,” she grumbled as she sat at the table.
Bess cocked her head and pointed her finger at Max. “I believe you need to buy some new sorts, because you’re out of them this morning, Professor Berra.”
Max felt a smile escape. “Grandpa Beverd. I’d forgotten he used to say that.”
“All the time. Especially if we didn’t smile when we got up in the morning after staying overnight.”
“Since we stayed up half the night giggling, we usually were ‘out of sorts’ by the morning.”
“By the way, I stopped at home and took Rosie for a short walk,” Bess said. “She’s so sweet.”
Max smiled and picked up the menu. “I don’t know about sweet but thank you. What’s good here? I’m not familiar with Dutch cooking.”
“The only thing Dutch about this place is the name and the decor. The menu is American, but good. I like the grilled chicken sandwich and the taco salad.” Bess grinned. “I don’t know if taco salad counts as American—or pizza either, for that matter.”
“Can I take your orders? Oh, hello, Bess.” A thirty-something man with cropped red hair and a roundish face stood with a pad and pencil, ready to write.
“Harry, these are my cousins, Max and Lil, here for the festival.” Bess turned to the other women. “Harry is Wanita Eldridge’s son. She’s the woman who runs the volunteer program at the mill.”
Lil nodded. “We met her this morning. She offered to take me to the quilt shop Monday. She was so sweet. Apparently, she’s a retired teacher?”
Harry slipped the pad in his apron pocket. He nodded and his face changed from customer-welcoming to grieving. “You were there this morning?”
“Dean was giving them a private tour of the mill when he discovered the…I mean, Peter,” Bess said.
Harry wiped his brow and looked at Max and Lil. “You know, I passed Peter on my way to open the restaurant this morning.” He paused. “He was such a nice man. And so smart! He was trying to redevelop the Semper Augustus tulip.”
”Harry also hybridizes tulips,” Bess explained to Max and Lil.
Max was interested in this process, but she was more interested in something else Harry said. “What time was it when you saw Peter this morning?”
“Uh, probably it was about 6:30. I open at 7:00 for the breakfast crowd. He was walking toward the mill, actually, about a block away from Engle Street.”
“He must have been on his way to the race. Did you report that to the police?” Max persisted.
Lil said “Max thinks she’s a detective.”
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“I do not. But I’m sure that information could be useful in fixing time of death. You don’t have to be a detective to know that—it’s just common knowledge.”
Harry’s eyes went back and forth between the two women. “No, I didn’t call them. I guess I’d better.”
A nearby wall clock chimed. Harry grabbed the pad back out of his pocket. “I forget what I’m doing. Our special today is a fruit plate. For dessert, there’s a choice of our famous apple pie or our Death by Chocolate cake—oh, dear. That’s very unfortunate. I’ll be right back.” He rushed over to a blackboard above the cash register counter, quickly erased “Death by Chocolate,’ and wrote in perfect Palmer method penmanship “Chocolate Cake.” Simple and direct, no frills.
“You can tell his mother was an elementary teacher,” Lil said, in reference to the handwriting.
Harry returned looking more frazzled, as he observed the growing crowd of customers. “So what can I get you? Have you had enough time to decide?”
“I’m going to have the fruit plate,” Lil said. “That sounds great.”
Max closed her menu and said, “Me too.”
“Make that three,” Bess said.
While they waited, sipping delicious iced tea, Bess told them a little more about Peter DeVries.
“He came here thirty or forty years ago and taught computer programming at the college. That was in the early days of the science, of course. He developed a very successful software program, but according to his contract, the rights remained with the college. So he retired and spent his time on desktop and mobile apps that made him very wealthy. He has donated generously to local and many other charities. Along the way he became a huge supporter of the Tulip Fest—he has Dutch ancestry—and interested in the hybridization of tulips. He never married. There were a couple of romances I heard about, but apparently they didn’t last.”
“It’s hard to imagine anyone being angry enough to kill someone like that,” Lil said.
“I know,” Bess sad sadly. “And it wasn’t just what he did for the town, but he was genuinely nice to everyone—really a caring person.”
Harry was back with their fruit plates. Bess took hers and smiled up at Harry. “Thank you. You’re not usually waiting tables.”
Double Dutch Death Page 3