by Nan Sampson
“Nonsense. The cabin used to be ours – when we sold it and that little spit of land it sits on to Artie after Helen died, we tried to get him to let us fix it up, but Artie wasn’t ever much for fancy stuff. It was the least we could do for our new neighbor.”
“Well, I really appreciate it.”
Patti walked her to the front door. “Now, I know you’re going to be busy the next couple of weeks, but don’t be a stranger. In fact, I want you to promise me you’ll come up for Sunday dinner. It’s nothing fancy, just good food and a friendly game of Risk for dessert. You do play Risk, don’t you?”
Ellie laughed. She’d been expecting Bid Whist, or Rummy. “Yeah. I play Risk. My father taught Poli Sci. I cut my teeth on the Risk board.”
“Great. Then we’ll see you around 5:00. Oh, wait, stay right there.” She disappeared back into the kitchen then came out with a red and white gingham lined basket. “Here. The rest of the pie. Call it a housewarming gift.”
“Oh, Patti. I couldn’t.”
“You can, and you will. Take it. Go see your new home. And let me know when you decide you want to refurnish it – I know some Amish folk who’ll set you up right. At the very least, we can run into Madison and find you a decent couch.”
“I like the furniture just the way it is. But thanks.”
With a final wave, she hurried down the porch steps and to her car, before Patti could decide to give her anything else.
Chapter 11
The unpaved lane that led to her new log cabin was narrow and bumpy and closed in on both sides by huge pines. It was a little bit foreboding – but breathtakingly beautiful too. There was nowhere in the city like this.
She was just getting ready to turn into her driveway when she noticed a white 4x4 coming up from behind. It looked like Gruetzmacher, and there was someone else in the front as well. Knowing there wasn’t room for both of them on the road, she pulled into her driveway, then stopped the car and got out. She fully expected that he’d somehow found out she was coming here and wanted to harass her about having gone into the shop yesterday afternoon.
She waited at the head of the drive as the 4x4 crunched sedately down the lane, checking inside the black metal mail box while she was standing there. Inside was a handful of mail, most of which was addressed to Artie. She’d have to remember to give it to one of his daughters.
The 4x4 slowed, then stopped in front of her drive, and Ellie could see both Gruetzmacher and Sam Klein inside. The Chief rolled down the window and put his thumb and forefinger on his hat in a gesture of greeting that would have made Sheriff Andy proud.
“Ms. Gooden. You ready to move in yet?”
“Just got the keys from Earl Mough.” She stood clutching her handful of mail, wondering why they weren’t getting out of their vehicle. And why there were two of them. Had they come to arrest her, and Gruetzmacher felt as though he needed back up? Or a witness?
“Great. You make sure the phone gets hooked up. This is a lonely stretch of road. If you need help, it’s a good five miles to town, and at least two up to the Moughs, if you go cross country.”
“Thanks. I think Earl took care of that.” She crossed her arms in front of her. Waiting.
“Well, we’re just on our way over to Gustafson’s for a chat. He’s your neighbor down the way. A bit of a nut. Raises llamas. Hosts a monthly drumming circle. Claims the spirit of Odin resides in an old forked tree branch in his front yard. You met him yet?”
She shook her head. She’d seen him once – a tall, rangy man with a shock of white hair – riding past her shop on his ancient Raleigh bicycle. She’d tried to say hello, but he either hadn’t heard her or wasn’t in the mood to be friendly. “Not yet.” Then thought, Odin? In a wooden stang? Now she had to meet him.
“Say, are you going to be here for a few minutes? I’d like to have a word with you on our way back out. About that Bible you, um, found.”
There it was. She knew he hadn’t come out here for chit chat with the old man down the lane. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
“Good. Okay, I’ll try to keep it quick at Gustafson’s. Stick around, okay?”
She nodded, clutching the mail to her chest. She wondered if she should call a lawyer, but the only attorneys she knew were corporate attorneys and she doubted that any of them would do her any favors. They’d spent too much time over the last ten years of her career arguing over marketing language.
With another tip of his hat, Gruetzmacher rolled his window back up and continued on down the road.
The place smelled musty. She knew that it hadn’t been that long since Artie had been in residence here. He’d moved into the spare room of his cousin’s house in Valleyview a couple of weeks ago, in preparation for moving to New Mexico – and so Earl could get the cabin in shape for Ellie. Yet the space had the aura of having been vacant for years. She held out her left hand, much as she’d done in the car, trying to sense left over vibrations from the cabin’s former occupants, but felt absolutely nothing. Artie may have lived here, but he’d left nothing of himself behind, as though he hadn’t really been living, just existing. And that thought made Ellie sad.
It was small. Much smaller even than Ellie’s condo in the city. Built during the depression as a hunting cabin for some of the wealthy summer residents to the area, it consisted of one large room, with an over-looking loft that Ellie had decided she would use as a bedroom. The walls hadn’t been covered, showcasing the enormous logs that had been used in construction, giving the place a rustic, lodge feel. A half-high, pine-paneled partition created a kitchen area, which had a small counter with a shiny new faux-granite countertop, a miniature gas stove, a wall mounted microwave oven, and a three-quarter sized refrigerator, which was old, but spic and span.
To Ellie’s amazement, the fridge had been stocked with basic provisions, care of Mough’s Dairy. Next to the fridge was a fairly large, five-foot-tall pine cupboard, painted white, with lovely copper cup handles and hinges, which would serve both as pantry and storage for her cooking gear. Cooking gear was a lofty appellation for her meager collection of two flea market pots, a skillet and an old toaster oven her mother had insisted she own, but that she’d never even taken out of the box.
Off to the right, just past the entry, there was a large closet, and next to that a tiny bathroom, which Earl had completely updated.
Ellie moved around the space, mentally cleansing it as she went. She’d smudge it with sage later for good measure, but for now, she just wanted to imprint it with her own energy. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture – an old leather couch which Patti had thrown a heather green and gray afghan over, a beat-up end table with a lamp on it, and a brand new double bed up in the loft that she’d bought at Ikea then hauled up last weekend and stored at the Mough’s. Earl must have brought it over and set it up for her. Another favor she owed them for.
The cabin was, Ellie thought as she looked it all over, just about perfect. She’d add a few touches of her own - some pictures, a dream catcher, her herb drying rack, but her lifestyle had always been simple. She just didn’t need much. Besides, for the foreseeable future, her attention would be on getting the shop up and running anyway. The only thing she’d be doing here in her little cabin was collapsing into bed.
It took her twenty minutes to schlep all her things from the car and stow them in the appropriate areas of the cabin. Her final act was to set up her Goddess altar on a little shelf in the corner behind the little bistro table. Once complete, and her brand new soapstone Goddess statuette was set into place in front of her wooden, inscribed Wheel of the Year, she took a sage bundle out of the little chest she stowed her ritual supplies in, lit it, and began to smudge every corner of her new home. The smell of the sage filled the place, burning away all of Artie Cullen’s dour and grumpy energy, helping to create a peaceful atmosphere.
She tamped out the sage in a small offering bowl filled with coarse sea salt, then took the bowl outside and laid out a line of salt along ev
ery threshold – both windows and doors, chanting a short protection spell her grandmother had taught her decades ago.
Then, with all that complete, she flopped down on the couch in front of the huge stone fireplace, sweaty but thoroughly pleased. A part of her wished the weather were cooler so she could light a fire in the grate. Of course, after winter started, she probably wouldn’t think that was so romantic a notion, since the fireplace would be her only source of heat, but right now she liked the idea of it.
It was utterly quiet. Not even the ticking of a clock impinged on the silence. She’d have to rectify that – she was used to falling asleep to the sounds of the city. She’d need something, even it was just a ticking alarm clock, to fill a little bit of that quiet.
She let her head fall back, stared up at the beamed, raftered ceiling. She couldn’t even imagine the huge old trees that must have gone into putting this cabin together. She reached out, tried to sense the essence of the trees that now made up her home, but their life force had long since departed. It did feel peaceful though.
So peaceful that when Gruetzmacher rapped sharply on the front door, she started awake with a gasp.
He stepped inside, grinning. “You city folks always leave your doors wide open for the bears to walk on in?”
Knowing he was originally a “city folk” himself, she glared at him. “Very funny.” Then she registered what he’d said. “Do we have bears around here?”
“Hardly any. We do get the occasional black bear, but it’s rare. They’re more problematic in a bad winter, when food is scarce. You’ll know they’re around because they make a mess of your trash.”
“Great. I’m not sure which is worse – gangbangers or bears.”
“That’s easy. You can reason with a bear, mostly. Just give him what he wants, which is food, and get the hell out of his way. Gangbangers hopped on crystal meth… not so much.”
Officer Klein showed up behind Gruetzmacher, poked his head in through the doorway. He was out of breath, as though he’d been running. “You say something about a bear? Should I get my rifle?”
Gruetzmacher grimaced, gave Ellie an eye roll that Klein couldn’t see. “No, Sam, you don’t need your rifle.”
Ellie stood up, feeling groggy. She wondered how long she’d been napping. It couldn’t have been too long. “You said you wanted to ask me something?”
“Sam, why don’t you wait for me in the truck? I’ll only be a minute.”
Klein looked disappointed, but nodded. “Yes, sir. You want me to radio in that we’re bringing old Per in?”
Again the eye roll. “No. There’s no need for that. It’s not like we’re arresting him, and we don’t need the whole county hearing about it before we’ve even made it back to the station.”
Ellie peered around Gruetzmacher, as Klein headed back to the truck. Sure enough, the lanky, white-haired ex-hippie was sitting in the back of the 4x4, looking, as her grandmother would have said, as happy as a turkey in the yard on Thanksgiving morning.
“Where are you taking Mr. Gustafson?”
“Down to the station. For a few questions.”
Something about the way he said it reminded her of her old pals, the CPD, and it put her back up. “You couldn’t ask him those questions in the comfort of his own home?”
“Sometimes questions get better answers when they’re asked outside of comfortable environs. And speaking of questions, what were you doing in the shop yesterday afternoon? Do you realize that bypassing the tape on a crime scene could be construed as tampering with evidence?”
She’d thought about this and was a little amazed at how glibly the lie came out. All those years in marketing had paid off. “I’d left a bag inside. It had my notes on what I needed to take care of today, plus my list of job candidates for the position of baker. I didn’t think it would hurt anything if I just popped in, grabbed it, and let myself out.” She paused, spread her hands. “I didn’t touch anything.”
“Except the handles to the office door, the store room door and the kitchen and back door. Just those things.”
How he had known that made her think she’d underestimated him. “I couldn’t remember where I’d left it.”
“But you hadn’t been in those rooms previously. So why would you think your bag would be there?”
She had nothing to say to that. So she just stood there, staring back at him. Wondering if that was anger in his eyes, or worse, amusement.
“At any rate, when I had Officer Klein – the other Officer Klein – go over there to check it out this morning, she didn’t find this Bible you say was there.”
“What? Did she look in my office? It was right there, on top of the desk. Damn, I knew I should have picked it up.”
Gruetzmacher looked puzzled. “Are you sure it was there?”
“Yes. Positive.”
“Did you notice anything else that looked out of place?”
Ellie thought about that for a second then shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“And you’re sure the Bible didn’t belong to you?”
She grimaced. “Quite sure.”
He crossed his arms in front of him and glanced upward for a moment. “O-kaay,” he drawled. “Did you look at the Bible? Did it have a name inscribed on it? Or maybe written inside the cover?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t touch it. I thought about bringing it to you, but I didn’t want to ruin any fingerprints. The cover was leather. And it certainly looked well-used.” She thought for a moment. “It didn’t have any fingerprint powder on it – I assumed the crime scene folks thought it was some kind of heresy to fingerprint it. One of the guys has got to remember seeing it. Maybe one of them looked inside.”
The Chief held his pose for a moment, apparently still thinking, then looked her in the eye. “I’ll ask. In the meantime, let me just remind you that no one – I repeat, no one – is to go into that shop. Not for any reason. If there is anything that you need from the shop, you are to come to me. Is that perfectly clear?”
She nodded. “Crystal. And I am sorry. I didn’t mean to mess anything up.”
“Folks never do.” He sighed. “If you think of anything else, you give me a call. You still have my card?”
“I do.”
“Pin it up on your fridge. It’s lonely out here. I’m not sure it’s a great idea, a young girl like you, living way out here by yourself. You take all the usual precautions. Just pretend you’re still living in the city, okay? And as odd a duck as he is, you can depend on Gustafson. He’s a lot tougher than he looks. Packs a mean wallop when he wants to.” He fingered his jaw. “I’d have reason to know.”
“He hit you? Today?”
“Nah, not today. Today he was all smiles and Nordic politeness. But we’ve had our disagreements in the past.”
“You let a nearly seventy-year-old man punch you in the jaw?”
Gruetzmacher bristled. “I didn’t let him, he surprised me. And he’s stronger than he looks.”
Ellie laughed. “I gotta meet this guy.”
“Then haul your pretty little – er, rather, follow us over to the station, and you can give him a ride home when I’m done with him.”
Ellie laughed again. “Sounds like you’ve been out here in the sticks too long, Chief. I believe I’ve just been sexually harassed.” She glanced around for her purse, saw it sitting on the kitchen counter. “How long do you think the brow beating is going to take? I’ve got a couple of errands to run in town. And why do you need to talk to him anyway? Has he been walking his llamas without their leash?”
“What I want to question him about is none of your business. I don’t imagine I’ll keep him more than about an hour.” He glanced out into the small yard, where Klein was waiting in the 4x4 with their ‘prisoner’. “Should I tell him you’ll be giving him a lift?”
“Absolutely. I look forward to it.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” Then he assumed a more official manner. “Have yourself a good after
noon, ma’am.” He gave her a wink, then turned on his heel and strode out through the still open front door, leaving Ellie wondering, again, if he’d been flirting with her, or if that was just his way. She wasn’t sure which answer she wanted to be the right one.
Chapter 12
Ellie gave the 4x4 a few minutes lead then headed out herself, locking the door behind her. She hadn’t lied about her errands – although they weren’t quite what she’d led Gruetzmacher to believe. What she really wanted to do was go talk to Arabella again. especially now that she knew about Artie’s affairs.
Louisa and her sister might have had reason to hate their father – and to have to live with him for the next twenty years might just have been more than they could stomach. But there may also have been a jilted lover out there who, given Artie’s move, might have seen their chance for revenge slipping away.
Both motives were long shots, but someone had killed the man. At the moment, it was all she had to go on.
Her car stalled again on the long winding hill up to the Inn. This was not a good sign, because she’d sunk everything she had into the new shop. There was no way she was going to be able to afford a new vehicle.
With a wish and a prayer to the goddess, she got the thing started again, and parked in the small lot around the back of the Inn, where Arabella had told her to park in future. She was about to head in through the back to the kitchen when she noticed the glorious flower and herb garden that she’d seen from the window of Kate’s room that morning. The garden she’d also seen in her bizarre dream.
Curiosity got the better of her and she wandered over to take a look at the spot where she figured Artie had stood in her dream.
And there, in the damp earth, in the middle of a bed of Black-Eyed Susan and Purple Coneflowers were two large footprints.
The silver and opal earrings from her grandmother suddenly felt warm against her neck even as she shivered and the skin prickled all up and down her arms. She fled the garden and raced in through the back door of the kitchen.