Hidden Secrets

by Madison Johns

  Hidden Secrets

  An Agnes Barton Senior Sleuths Mystery

  Madison Johns

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by this Author

  Copyright © 2018 Madison Johns

  Hidden Secrets Madison Johns

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Synopsis

  Life in Tawas has changed dramatically when Bernice “The Cat Lady’s” ex-husband Wilber goes missing and is later found dead by resident detectives Agnes Barton and Eleanor Mason. Bernice is a suspect and the sleuths can’t let their friend down as they search for the truth. Oh and about that truth -- who was Wilber really, and what secrets did he keep hidden throughout the years?

  Wilber has been linked to a series of missing hitchhikers in the seventies. Has someone from the past come back for their revenge? Was Wilber really a serial killer? Will the girls be able to solve this case as a health crisis strikes down one of their friends?

  This is one twisty tale.

  Chapter 1

  I stared down at the tiny kittens on my couch where Duchess had decided to give birth. I had resolved to throw my couch out, but my husband Andrew assured me it could be reupholstered. I had to admit the kittens were cute, and Duchess was a dutiful mother, but I couldn’t possibly keep them all.

  I’m Agnes Barton and I investigate crimes in Tawas, Mich., with my partner Eleanor Mason. We’re senior sleuths, both over the age of seventy, but that has never stopped us from investigating. Far from it. We’re retired and what else can retired ladies do to while away their day? I tried my hand at gardening once, but it’s so much more enjoyable chasing down clues.

  I brushed my salt and pepper hair and smiled, revealing a set of new dentures. My last pair was virtually useless they were so ground down. The wrinkles that I once considered marring my face I have now grown to accept. I jokingly blame Eleanor for most of them, but I met her only four years ago and most of my lines are much older.

  “Agnes,” Andrew greeted as he walked in the door with a golf club, a worrying frown on his face.

  “Did you go golfing with the Hayes this morning?” I asked.

  Andrew shook his head. “I planned to, but when I arrived at the club my favorite golf club was bent. I don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

  “Why would I?”

  Andrew smiled, resembling the gray fox every woman over the age of thirty admired. My husband only has eyes for me and me him. I was so fortunate to call him mine even though we married only a few years ago. He was a former boss, one I admired very much. He was married at the time and I was a lonely widow, but nothing came of it back then. We reconnected in a big way when he arrived in Tawas for a brief visit a few years ago.

  “I can’t tell you the last time I even saw your clubs.”

  Andrew smiled and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade and poured a glass. “It will give me an excuse to shop for a new set. Bill Hayes has already volunteered to help me.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me.” Bill and his wife Marjory are the biggest golfers I know. They practically live at the golf club during the season.

  I picked up the phone when it rang and nodded with a smile. “I’ll be right there, Eleanor.” Once I ended the call I added, “You know Eleanor, she couldn’t survive a day without me.”

  “I don’t believe either of you could away from each other. I look forward to you coming home later and telling me about the lack of a crime here in Tawas.”

  “Do you think we go looking for crime? Because I most certainly do not. We just have a habit of finding it wherever we go.”

  “Whoever gets home first makes dinner,” he joked as he rustled through the closet and replaced his bent golf club before jogging out the door.

  Andrew didn’t need a new set of golf clubs at all. But I suppose buying them might equate to a woman coloring her hair or buying new clothes. It makes me the tiniest bit giddy whenever I bring new purchases home.

  I filled Duchess’s food dish before I grabbed my handbag and hopped in my Mustang. I was trying to sell the car because I have such a hard time climbing out of it. Andrew promised to help me pick out a sedan more suited to my needs. Eleanor and I usually zoomed around in her old Cadillac if Andrew’s SUV wasn’t available. That Cadillac was like a tank and had gotten Eleanor and me out of some serious jams.

  I admired Tawas Bay as I wound my way up U.S. 23. I had to pinch myself every time I thought about living here. I wasn’t able to swing a lakeside house, but Eleanor inherited her cabin on the lake from a nephew who’d died some time ago.

  Eleanor opened the door before I even had a chance to get out of my car.

  “It’s about time you got here,” she called out with a smile.

  “I hope you have coffee,” I said as I climbed out of the car.

  “You mean we can’t go to Tim Hortons and get a cup?”

  “I’m bored with doing that if you want to know. And my clothing is getting snugger.”

  “Maybe if we only had coffee and not the doughnuts we’d be okay.” She laughed, her generous stomach bouncing in time. “I don’t worry about my figure. I’ve always been a plus-sized woman. That’s politically correct for fat.”

  “I know, but I’ve never seen you that way or would judge you for it.” I glanced around. “Where is Mr. Wilson?” Mr. Wilson, Eleanor’s husband, wouldn’t allow anyone to use his first name.

  “On the deck sleeping, most likely. It’s time for my yearly blood draw.”

  “You’re relatively healthy, Eleanor. My doctor has me go four times a year.”

  “Mine does too, but I always lose my lab slip or find it only to lose it again. My memory has been horrible.”

  “It can’t be any worse than mine.”

  I continued through the opened patio door, and indeed Mr. Wilson was sawing logs in a lounge chair. He was wearing what he always wore, gray pants and a button-down shirt. They were the same kind of clothes he wore when he worked. Some habits are hard to break. Wilson’s emaciated body and gray skin would make people think he’s sick, but he’s been knocking on death’s door for years now. In truth, he managed quite well and only required the use of a rolling walker for assistance.

  I yawned as I turned back to Eleanor. “So what do you feel like doing today?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been so boring of late without … you know that thing we’re not supposed to say out loud.”

  Eleanor meant a crime wave or a case that needed solving. We have vowed to never say it out
loud. I didn’t need to be accused of swaying the pendulum in the wrong direction.

  “Let’s pay Bernice a visit. She might be a good candidate to adopt your kittens,” Eleanor suggested.

  I wrinkled my nose. “She has far too many mouths to feed in that department already. I certainly don’t want to burden her with more.”

  Eleanor attempted to back her Cadillac from the garage, clunking the roof on the half-raised door. She threw open her door and inspected the damage, pointing her garage door opener at the door. It didn’t budge.

  “I think the door is caught on the car,” I called out.

  “Oh great. What do we do now?”

  I stared up at the door in disbelief. This certainly wasn’t the way I thought today would turn out.

  “We might have to call a wrecker,” I offered.

  “Can’t we just take your car today?”

  I laughed. “I can barely get in and out of my car. Do you really feel up to it?”

  “Let’s give it a whirl.”

  Eleanor walked to my Mustang and squeezed into the vehicle with my help. I slid behind the steering wheel with a groan. “You don’t look very comfortable, Eleanor.”

  “What makes you think that? Is it because my face is pressed against the windshield?”

  “You need to move the seat back.”

  Eleanor fiddled in the front of the seat before she was able to move the seat back, but it didn’t help her comfort an ounce. “I’ll have to figure out something. This just won’t do. Drive to Bernice’s house and we’ll worry about it later, but whatever you do don’t get into an accident. It will take them two days to get us out of this tin can.”

  “What are you talking about? It might take two days for us to get out of the car when we get to Bernice’s.” I smiled.

  I drove up Bernice’s long and winding driveway. She lived in a rural part of Tawas City, the house concealed behind thick woods. Fewer branches slapped against my car as it was much smaller than Eleanor’s Cadillac. It was then that I noticed the branches had been trimmed back since the last time we’d visited.

  When the car skidded to a stop on the stone driveway I attempted to climb out of the car. Eleanor gave me a shove from the back and I narrowed my eyes at her after I picked myself up off the ground. I couldn’t believe she propelled me that far with just one shove.

  I smiled evilly at Eleanor when it was her turn to get out. “Do you need any help?”

  “No, I don’t!” Eleanor snapped. She worked her feet out of the car and grabbed the door and stood with a groan. “I did it,” she proclaimed with a sweeping arm. She then rubbed her stomach. “You might want to call Andrew and ask him to switch cars with us. I don’t think I can squeeze back into this car without internal damage.”

  “He’s playing golf with the Hayes, but I’ll try.”

  I called Andrew, who was indeed in the middle of eighteen holes. He promised to have someone else meet us.

  Bernice had moved into this house last year. It was well kept for a time, but the weeds that now replaced the grass were knee deep. It always unsettled me whenever I walked through weeds. Burrs had a way of settling on my clothing.

  We climbed the stairs of the porch and stared down at five cats. Forget about the cuddly sweet cats that most people might have, Bernice’s cats are feral. The tiger cat howled and more cats packed the porch as if it was a battle cry and we were the foe. The yellow of the cats’ eyes never left us and Eleanor hugged me tightly in fright. I didn’t mind on this occasion, as I was just as frightened.

  “Bernice!” I yelled praying she was within earshot.

  The cats advanced and Eleanor and I were about to take flight when Bernice opened the door.

  “Hello, girls,” she greeted.

  “C-Can you call off your c-cats?” Eleanor asked as she squeezed my arm tightly.

  “Ain’t no sense in trying to do that. Come on inside,” Bernice said.

  Eleanor and I moved together toward the door. The cats seemed to understand that we weren’t to be eaten, so they backed off and allowed us inside.

  “Whew, I thought we were goners,” Eleanor exclaimed as she fell on the couch. She then wiggled and pulled out scissors. “Is there a reason you keep scissors on the couch?”

  “Good you found them. I’ve been looking for them all week.”

  The wood floor of the house squeaked when I walked across it and settled in a brown recliner. It was the only furniture in the living room aside from the couch and one end table.

  “Where did all your furniture go?” I had to ask.

  “They went out with my fancy clothing,” Bernice said.

  I wasn’t sure I should remark on the men’s clothing Bernice was back to wearing.

  “So that’s why you’re wearing men’s clothing again. You got rid of your new clothing?”

  Bernice pulled out a pipe and lighted it. “I donated them to the Salvation Army because I don’t have further use for them.”

  I frowned as I took that in. Whatever did she mean she had no further use for them?

  “Is there something going on that we should be concerned with?” I asked.

  “Agnes is right. This is an unexpected turn of events,” Eleanor said.

  “I hardly call it a turn of events,” I said. “Is there a reason for the abrupt change?”

  Bernice sighed as she sat next to Eleanor on the couch. “It just wasn’t me. At the time I thought it would make me happy. I was more well-dressed than even Elsie Bradford.”

  Elsie Bradford thought herself the social icon of Tawas, and one of our good friends, even though we didn’t care much for her beau Jack Winston.

  “Don’t remind me. She had a fit about it,” Eleanor said.

  Bernice was lost in thought. I hated to break into her reverie, but I had to. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your ex-husband Wilber, does it?”

  Bernice jumped to her feet and began to pace. “I thought I could … oh never mind.”

  “And here I thought you were getting along so well,” Eleanor said. “He was here maintaining your yard.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. He certainly wasn’t doing that any longer.

  “Wilber hasn’t changed a bit. He’s the same roving-eyed man I was married to. I should have remembered he’s a cheating louse.”

  Those were strong words for Bernice. “What happened?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. He just quit coming around.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No explanation or phone calls. He must have taken up with another woman.” Bernice frowned. “Not that we were ever together like that now.”

  “So yard work was the extent of it?” Eleanor asked.

  “That and a few dinners.”

  “So he just dropped out of sight?” Eleanor asked.

  “Yup. Wilber was always a coward.”

  “Did you at least call him?” I asked.

  Bernice folded her arms. “No reason to really.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Couple of weeks.”

  “It’s no wonder your weeds are out of control,” Eleanor gasped.

  “Eleanor!”

  “At this point I can’t be offended. I haven’t seen Wilber for at least two whole weeks. He quit doing yard work months ago.”

  “Was he acting strange?” Eleanor asked.

  “He was distracted whenever he came over, but he never mentioned anything.”

  “This is troubling,” I said. “Have you heard from your children lately?”

  “Callie and Angelo have their own lives. They don’t want to be bothered by me.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” I said. “I thought you had all reconnected.”

  “We tried, but unfortunately my children still harbor hard feelings about me. They live in Troy. There are more jobs down there,” Bernice explained.

  I frowned. “I’m really sorry that things didn’t work out for you.”

  “I’m fin
e about it,” Bernice said when she sat back down. “So what brings you girls by?”

  “We’re bored,” Eleanor said. “It’s been so quiet of late.”

  “Which is a good thing, because no crimes have been reported lately,” I said.

  Bernice interlaced her fingers. “Crime might take a rest, but it never retires.”

  “I suppose you’re right. When is the last time you left the house?” Eleanor asked.

  “It’s been a few weeks, why?”

  “You should come with us today,” I said. “We could pay Rosa Lee Hill a visit.”

  “Maybe another day,” Bernice said as she pulled on her pipe. “I’d much rather stay home and watch the deer and birds out my patio door. Did I tell you I had five coyotes in my backyard just yesterday?”

  “That’s scary,” Eleanor said. “I must admit you have the perfect backyard for watching wildlife. Have you spotted any wild turkeys lately?”

  “Nope. I hope those coyotes haven’t eaten them all.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” I said. “I imagine they haven’t been taking their young for a walk just yet.”

  Bernice’s laugh sounded more like a cackle. “You might be right. I hope you don’t mind, but I have to feed my cats.”

  I shuddered, “That’s all you needed to say.”

  Chapter 2

  Martha, my daughter, stood next to her seventies paneled station wagon, dangling her car keys, when Eleanor and I returned to my car.

  I reluctantly handed my keys to Martha.

  “You’d better be careful,” Eleanor said. “I’d rather not listen to her griping about you scratching her car.”