Echoes

by Naida Kirkpatrick

  I assured her I was unhurt. She gathered up an armful of papers, shoved them at me and dashed away, throwing words over her shoulder as she went.

  “I’d love to help more, but I have to pick up some food sticks for Sister Claudia’s begonias before the flower shop closes.”

  Donny hurried over and helped me gather up the remaining papers.

  “I just had a flash encounter with Sister Beatrice,” I told her. “She said she had to get food sticks for begonias, whatever that is.”

  “Yeah, my mom uses them all the time.” The curly haired receptionist spoke up. We must have looked pretty blank, because she shrugged and explained.

  “They’re little sticks, about the size of a crayon. They have plant food and fertilizer in them and you just stick one down in your flower pot. The plants absorb the food gradually so you don’t have to worry about over feeding them.”

  An interesting concept. What will they think of next, plants that fetch their own water? I know so little about gardening and plant food, that the information didn’t seem important. Later that evening, I enjoyed an old movie while I ate my supper before the TV. It was one of those old, romantic films all about a beautiful damsel in distress and a heroic, swashbuckling hero. The villain was an evil, nasty devil who carried a sword cane. He crept up on his victims and stabbed them with his hidden sword until our courageous hero drove him away in disgrace to the swooning admiration of the damsel. The glorious climax came as our hero ran the villain through with his own sword.

  I took my usual walk the next morning and, after a quick shower, prepared breakfast. It was an uneventful day. I did a little housework, a load of laundry, and talked to Mac on the phone as I ate lunch. I hated to admit it, but my investigation of Max Williams’ murder seemed to be stalled, and I didn’t know what to do next. My thoughts scattered through my head like the fluff from the cottonwood trees. Just idle thoughts about the movie last night, the newspapers scattering all over the news office, Sister Beatrice’s remarks about the plant food sticks.

  “The plant food sticks. My God! That’s how it was done.” I nearly dropped my cup. I knew now how Max Williams was killed. I called Donny at the office and told her to meet me at Mrs. Yoder’s. At first she protested.

  “Maggie, I’ve taken so much time away from the office my boss will think I’m the one on vacation.”

  “Donny, your boss is a sucker for a good story and you’re going to have the first crack at the story of the year. Besides, you leave your boss to me. I’ll take care of him.”

  I was in such a frantic rush that I flooded the engine and had to wait what seemed like forever until the Jeep started. I roared down the street toward town, made a U-turn and pulled up in the NO PARKING zone in front of the police station. I waved away the officer’s objections and rushed into Lt. Phillips office, banging open the door and surprising him into spilling his coffee across his desk blotter.

  I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. “Lieutenant, come with me. I know who killed Max Williams and I also know just how it was done. We have to hurry.”

  He sputtered and cussed behind me as I rushed out the door, but he followed. I zoomed down the street towards Rosa Yoder’s, Lt. Phillips in a squad car right behind me. A distraught Lily met us at the door.

  “Maggie! I---come in. Why have you brought the police?”

  She was crying and evidently had been pacing in the short entryway.

  “What’s wrong, Lily?”

  “It’s Rosa. She almost collapsed. I managed to get her up to her room, but she won’t let me send for Dr. Mason. She looks terrible, Maggie. Will you go talk to her?”

  “Send for the doctor anyway, Lily. I don’t care what Rosa told you.” I nodded encouragement at her and Lt. Phillips and I rushed up the stairs.

  Rosa’s room was at the back of the house, with windows along the side facing Gerry’s house next door. Those windows were part of the window seat section. One window at the end of the seat faced the street, and the window at the opposite end faced her backyard. Rosa sat at a small table beside the window seat, looking out onto the street side. She had a small book open on the table before her. Her ivory-headed cane was hooked over the back of her chair.

  “Come in, Maggie. I see you’ve brought Lt. Phillips with you.” She sighed. “Perhaps it’s just as well.” She leaned her head against the back of her chair and closed her eyes as though utterly exhausted. Her skin was a ghostly grey and glistened with a sheen of perspiration. I saw a pitcher on the dresser and poured a glass of water for her. She waved it away. “Not now, Maggie.”

  We heard footsteps on the stairs and Dr. Mason burst into the room followed by a teary-eyed Lily. Next, Donny’s face appeared in the doorway. Dr. Mason made a quick examination of Rosa, but when he started to speak, she stopped him.

  “Doctor, I’m very grateful for your care these many years, but now I have something to say and I don’t want any of your medicines. Thank you.” She straightened in her chair and pulled the little book toward her. She motioned to the chair opposite. “Lt. Phillips, perhaps you will be good enough to sit here. I wish all the rest of you would sit somewhere. I have a lot to say and not much time to say it.”

  Her voice was almost a whisper. It was obvious that she had to push each word out with a tremendous effort. We settled ourselves as best we could, straining to hear her soft words.

  “I have told you all about the time long ago when Jacob and I were given a child to love. This child was Roberta. When she grew up, she fell in love with the young, handsome soldier whom she called her Major. As you know, she chose to stay with him when Jacob and I had to leave. The Major told Roberta that if she chose to go with us, he would send all of us to the camps.” Rosa shrugged. “What choice did she have? She stayed. I received letters from time to time, then they stopped coming. Jacob and I tried to keep away from the soldiers until that one dreadful day when he was shot as he tried to step onto the train. I had no one. Finally, one last letter came; Roberta said she was leaving the Major and she and the baby were coming to stay with me. I was overjoyed and I waited, but she never came. Eventually, through the help of the Sisters, I arrived in Tuxford and you know the rest.

  “When I met Mrs. Williams, and learned about her son, I became convinced he was the Major that my Roberta loved, but I had no proof. My grief and anger were almost unbearable, but all I could do was wait and wonder.” She paused, closing her eyes, speaking softly. “After a few years, I was able to buy this house and I had the opportunity to watch Mr. Williams. I watched him every day.” The earlier grayness of her skin took on a waxy, yellow tint. I knew what was happening and so did Dr. Mason, but Rosa pushed his help aside.

  “Let me finish, Doctor.” She sipped a little water. “Lily gave me this old book that belonged to her mother. When I read it, I found my answer. The first entries were written in English by Roberta’s birth mother, Emily Washburn, but are so faded they are almost invisible. Roberta’s entries followed, written in French. Lily doesn’t know French; that’s why she couldn’t read it. Besides, as I’ve told you, Roberta was a brilliant cryptologist and extremely intelligent, but her handwriting was almost indecipherable. I recognized her scribbles. She described the coldness and indifference of the Major to Allilie, even though he was her father. He also became more and more abusive, verbally as well as physically, until Roberta feared for their lives. She made the arrangements for herself and the baby to leave, but didn’t tell him. She was afraid he would stop them somehow.”

  There was a stir near the door as Lily left the room, clattered down the stairs and returned almost immediately with a small glass full of brandy. Rosa took a sip. It put a little color in her cheeks and turning to the back cover of the diary, she carefully peeled up the last page and slipped out a faded, sepia photograph and handed it to Lt. Phillips. “Here is my proof.” She took another sip of brandy and continued her story.

  “Lily has told me as much as she knows about her mother, Allilie. I wi
sh I could have known her, she sounds as spirited as my Roberta. It was when I read her diary that I fully appreciated that Roberta was Lily’s grandmother. I don’t know what providence prompted Lily to decipher the wrinkled, old certificate, with the information of my relationship to her mother, but I’m grateful. She has been a constant joy.” Rosa turned and smiled at Lily. “My dear, I am so proud to be your great grandmother; I share that honor with Emily.”

  I eased up behind Lt. Phillips and peered over his shoulder at the photograph. It showed a smiling Roberta holding a plump, dark-haired baby who bore a strong resemblance to the young Emily Washburn, and a grim faced Max Williams in the uniform of a German soldier.

  Rosa took a deep breath.

  “I’ve made provisions for you, Lily. Dr. Mason knows what to do.” Rosa smiled again at Lily, who was sniffling into a handful of tissues.

  “And now to the end, Lt. Phillips. I heard the rumors about how the elder Williams died. One day, I overheard Max on the phone telling someone he had ‘got rid’ of Roberta. I knew he was not liked by any of his employees and I waited. I took a walk every day while Lily shopped. I walked from my steps around past the Williams’ house and back to strengthen my legs and to determine whether anyone noticed me. This is a quiet neighborhood. Most of the people are at work at the time I took my walk and, as far as I know, nobody saw me. I used my computer to order the chemicals I needed and, when Lily was shopping or at the library, I worked a little at a time in the shed out back. You see, when Jacob and I were in LeClare, we helped the students celebrate the end of the school year with fireworks. He taught me how to mix the chemicals and pack the mixture into little tubes. It was delicate work and took me quite some time.

  “When the time was right, I planted my little explosives.” She paused, sipped a little more brandy. “Thirteen little bushes, thirteen little spikes. That’s all it took. A baker’s dozen.” Rosa lifted her head and nodded at me. “I think Maggie has already figured it out. Yes, Maggie, I used my cane.”

  By now, Rosa’s voice was raspy with fatigue, her face the color of skim milk; lips blue.

  “I can see the Williams’ front door from this window, Lieutenant.” She nodded at the one facing the street. “When the plant was delivered to Max, and he came to the door, I waited until I thought the delivery man was far enough away and pressed the switches.” She leaned her head back. “My only regret is that the poor delivery boy was injured.”

  The room vibrated with silence. Even though I had figured out how the explosives were put on the tip of the sword cane and shoved into the dirt, I was shocked to hear her describe it all so calmly. Lt. Phillips kept clearing his throat, as though he was trying to speak, but his words were stuck on his tongue.

  She paused, and a few tears slid from under her eyelids. She took a deep breath.

  “But no matter. He deserved it. He killed my Roberta. I have no regrets.”

  “Ms. Mackenzie, what does she mean about your figuring things out?” Lieutenant Phillips asked, once he recovered his power of speech.

  “Remember the little piece of metal you dug out of the wall when we went through the Williams house? If you’ll take another look at that little piece of metal, Archer, I think you’ll find it matches the point of this cane.” I took the ivory- headed cane from the back of Rosa’s chair. “She told me once that this cane is very old; it belonged to an ancestor of hers. It’s a sword cane.” I demonstrated, pushing the tiny button under the crook of the handle. The sword flicked out, the point clearly broken off.

  A soft murmur echoed through the room. Over it all I heard Donny’s question.

  “Maggie, if Roberta’s baby’s father was Maximillian Welhelm, then that means…”

  “Exactly, Donny. That makes Max Williams Lily’s grandfather.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Lily made a soft mewing sound as Rosa lifted her glass for another sip of brandy. Instead, the glass slipped from her hand. It bounced onto the rug, the remaining brandy spreading out in a dark splotch. Rosa’s head slid sideways against the back of the chair. Lily rushed over and caught her as she began to slide forward.

  “Everyone get out of here. Wait downstairs.” Dr. Mason ordered, as he and Lt. Phillips carried Rosa to her bed. The Lieutenant followed us downstairs, leaving Lily and Dr. Mason to take care of Rosa. The rest of us, which was Donny and me and Lt. Phillips, wandered around a bit, until Donny went to the kitchen. Soon, we heard the tea kettle whistling and the rattle of cups. By the time Lily and the Doctor came downstairs, she had hot tea waiting. Lily was still crying.

  “She’s gone.” She folded up into the big plum-colored chair in the book room and wept into a napkin.

  ***

  The next few days were disjointed and tinged with chaos. I brought Lily home with me while Dr. Mason took care of the details of Rosa’s funeral. It was a simple affair. Rosa had arranged everything, down to her few favorite melodies to be played by the organist. With the perverseness of Midwest weather, it rained when we left the church, but at least it was warm.

  Later in the week, Lily came over after her visit with Rosa’s attorney. I was pleased to learn he wasn’t Willie Manning.

  “Maggie, Rosa left me everything. Along with the house, she had a considerable amount of funds in the bank. I won’t have to work as much now while I finish school.”

  I gave her a hug.

  “That’s great, Lily.”

  “And I think I’ll also get the Williams property, too. The lawyer isn’t sure yet.” She shook her head. “What a summer.”

  I agreed with her. This had certainly been a most unusual summer and it was only the end of June. I was glad to see that Lily had regained her cheerfulness.

  “You seem to be your old cheerful self again, Lily. You look different. Is there something going on with you?” I fished, watching the sparkle in her eyes.

  She laughed. “I guess it shows, huh? I met someone or, rather, got better acquainted with someone.”

  “Well? Come on, girl, out with it.”

  “He’s a student at the university. He graduates in December with a degree in botanical science and wants to do botanical research. And since I want to do research, too, we have a lot in common.” She gave a little chirp. “Besides, I really like him, Maggie.”

  “Lily, are you talking about Eddie Coblet? I thought you and Kevin Thatcher were—”

  “No, Maggie. Kevin’s a great guy. He’s funny, has a wonderful sense of humor and is a great dancer too, but he’s just a kid. He’s more like a little brother.” She smiled again. “Eddie’s quite different. He’s easy to talk to and he’s helped me get through some of these last few painful days.”

  ***

  I was glad everything turned out so well for Lily, especially learning about her family. I began to wonder about mine. Every time I thought Mac would be coming to Tuxford, some new complication popped up, preventing it. And I hadn’t had any word from Gerry, either.

  I had my hand on the phone when it rang.

  “Mac! When are you coming down?” At last I heard the words I hungered for.

  “We’ll be down tomorrow early afternoon, Peter and I. Don’t do anything special for us. We’ll take you out for dinner.”

  Epilogue

  Mac and Peter arrived early Saturday afternoon and were followed, about two hours later, by Gerry and Mavis. It was a noisy reunion, with everyone talking at once. Mavis brought out a bag full of photos of their cruise and she and Gerry steered Peter out to the family room for his own private photo tour.

  Mac and I spent some unregistered time getting reacquainted. It was wonderful to have him here and feel his strong arms around me at last. I had really missed him. Our special time was better than a room at some posh hotel, complete with room service without interruptions.

  “Mac, tomorrow I’m taking you to meet Maude Chambers. You’ll absolutely love her. She has the quaintest shop as well as marvelous coffee and cinnamon rolls. Besides, I want you to meet some of
the nice people I’ve met here.” I laughed at his look. “Believe it or not, there really are some nice people here.”

  That evening I arranged for a special table at Duttons. There was Maude with Caroline and Mike, Lily Thomas and Eddie Coblet, Donny Thatcher and Kevin, who happened to be home that weekend, Lt. Phillips and Sister Beatrice. Archer and Mac immediately began to talk shop while we ate. Peter was somewhat in awe of Kevin at first, but he soon got over it and the two of them put their heads together like five year olds plotting secrets. Later, Peter informed me that “Kevin is way cool, Grandma Maggie.”

  I learned that the construction on the property next to the Washburn woods was progressing, but considerably scaled back. It seems that Willie and Faith were away on an extended vacation visiting their sons. That was fine with me. I didn’t want to introduce Mac to Willie, anyway

  I was more than ready to leave after a few more days. I wanted to get home and relax. I had enough of the old hometown.

  Every small town has its own charm, just like an old boyfriend, but often it’s best to never go back. The changes can be disillusioning. Tuxford was no different. Small towns are always a good place to be from. Leave it at that.

  End

  About Naida Kirkpatrick

  I have always enjoyed stories of adventures, whether on the range with cowboys, at sea on sailing ships , or in space on other worlds. I also like to try to solve the mystery before the end of the book.

  I earned a BS in education from Ball State, a degree in nursing from Purdue University and have completed several writing courses from the Institute of Children’s Literature and The Long Ridge Writers Group. I am a member of SCBWI.

  “Echoes” is my first adult novel. I have always enjoyed the cozy mystery placed in a local setting, and that is what I have chosen for “Echoes.” Writing is an adventure and I love to embark on a journey to a different world of my own making.