The Fred Vickery Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Fred Vickery Mysteries)

by Sherry Lewis

  Another time, Fred might have protested, but Enos was clearly upset. He turned to go, but stopped when Kate came into the room, her dark hair tousled, her face puffy from sleep.

  Enos muttered something about being sorry he woke them and motioned Kate toward the sofa. She sat, looking confused and groggy. Fred perched on the edge of his rocking chair frowning at the worry lines that etched a pattern in Enos’s forehead and around his eyes. The look on Enos’s face sent a cold finger of apprehension up Fred’s spine.

  Enos pushed his fingers through his thin hair and looked at Kate apologetically. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I just came from the abandoned mine on Shadow Mountain. We found Brandon there…at the bottom.”

  Kate blinked a couple of times. “What was he doing there?”

  “At the bottom of the sinkhole?” Fred asked, wanting to clarify.

  Enos nodded. “He’s dead, Kate. He’s been murdered.”

  They were both wide awake now. Kate shot up off the couch. “He’s dead?”

  Something uncomfortable stirred around inside Fred, a mixture of dismay and guilt. If he’d told Enos what he overheard earlier, would Brandon still be alive? He sat back in his chair and mopped his face with one hand. “How did it happen?”

  “He was dead when we found him,” Enos said. “We went looking for him because Winona called earlier. Said she was worried about him. She said that he went out after dinner to meet someone at the mine site. When he didn’t come back, she called me. Grady and I went looking for him and we found him—dead.”

  Kate’s hand shook and her lip quivered slightly. “Who was he meeting?”

  Enos removed his hat and turned it in his hands in a way Fred had seen him do many times—a signal that he was struggling to control himself. “Winona didn’t know. Brandon didn’t tell her.”

  “And you believe her?” Kate demanded. “She lies. It’s what she does. She killed my sister and now she’s killed Brandon. Who’s next?”

  “Could Winona have done this?” Fred asked Enos. “Were there any clues?”

  “Not many,” Enos admitted. “We found signs of a scuffle near the edge, enough to make us believe Brandon didn’t go over on his own. Nothing else to speak of. Winona couldn’t tell us anything.”

  Fred thought of Ramsey’s parting words to Brandon earlier that afternoon. He’d have to tell Enos about the conversation he’d overheard. There was no hiding it now.

  Kate propped her elbows in her knees and buried her face in her hands, more upset than Fred expected her to be. “Does she have an alibi or do you think maybe she pushed him over and then came back home to play the part of the grieving lover?”

  Enos sighed heavily. He looked worn out. “I don’t think she’s guilty.”

  “Why not? Who would be more likely to kill him? Where was she when he was killed? How did she know where to find him?”

  “Maybe she’s telling the truth,” Fred said cautiously. “Maybe Brandon met somebody else—somebody like Logan Ramsey, for example.”

  Enos wagged a hand at him. “Not now, Fred.”

  “And what you doing here?” Kate demanded. “Winona could be getting ready to skip town. She might already be gone.”

  “I’ve got one of the boys keeping an eye on her. She’s not going anywhere. I have someone on Ramsey’s house and Summer’s cabin, too.”

  Kate glared at him. “Well, go arrest her. What are you waiting for? Do you want her to kill for a third time?”

  “I have to agree with Enos,” Fred told her. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I ran into—”

  Kate interrupted him with a noise of disgust. “I don’t believe you two. The woman is a parasite. All she’s after is the money. Joan’s money—my money.”

  “It’s possible,” Enos said. “I understand that she’s your sister, isn’t that right?”

  “Half sister. For all that means to her. She’s never cared about anything or anybody except herself in her entire life.”

  “About Brandon—” Fred said, trying again to share what he knew. “When I was in town earlier—”

  Enos wasn’t even listening to him. “I have lots to do. I need to get back. I just thought you ought to know. You’ve still got Madison here with you, don’t you?”

  Stung by Enos’s attitude, Fred nodded absently.

  “She’s here for the time being,” Kate said. “But Tony doesn’t think we should move her out of her home on top of everything else. I’ve been wondering if he isn’t right . . .”

  “But you are her closest living relative, isn’t that right?”

  “Other than Tony, yes.”

  “And Winona,” Enos pointed out.

  “You wouldn’t give Madison to her?” Kate’s eyes widened. If Fred hadn’t known her better, he might have suspected some genuine concern for the girl but she was probably more worried about Winona winning a round in their never-ending feud.

  “For now I think it’s best to leave Madison right where she is,” Enos said. “We won’t do anything about moving her until we have to. It’s all right if she stays here a while longer, isn’t it Fred?”

  “Of course. She’s happy here.” He refrained from adding that she ought to stay with Kate, whether Kate wanted the responsibility or not. Instead, he brought the conversation back to Brandon’s murder. “Listen, Enos, you need to listen to me for a minute. I overheard something earlier that might be important. I saw Brandon earlier. He was loading up boxes filled with things from the Frame-Up. It sounded to me like there were things in the boxes that he and Winona wanted to hide. Did you find anything like that at the mine?”

  “Boxes?” Enos looked confused. “Nothing yet.”

  “And I heard him making arrangements to meet Logan Ramsey later. Do you suppose—?”

  Enos shrugged. “I don’t suppose anything yet. We’re still processing evidence. Just one more thing if you don’t mind. Were the two of you here all evening?”

  Kate’s mouth fell open. “Of course I was. Why are you asking that?”

  “And Fred was here with you? He can vouch for your whereabouts?”

  “I was here for most of the evening,” Fred said. “I just took Madison to the Bluebird for ice cream. We were back by seven and Kate has been here with us all evening.”

  “You think I killed Brandon?” Kate demanded her voice shrill.

  “Routine questions, Kate. Everyone who was involved with Brandon and Joan in any way is going to have to answer the same questions.”

  “I’m one of your suspects?”

  “It’s common knowledge that you hated Brandon,” Enos pointed out. “You’ve made no secret of that.”

  “That’s true,” Kate said. “But I didn’t kill him. Winona did it.”

  She wasn’t thinking clearly, Fred knew. “How would killing Brandon now put Winona any closer to your money?” he asked.

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t know, but she did it.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Fred said. “Earlier—when I was coming out of the shoe repair shop—that’s when I saw Winona and Brandon loading those boxes into the trunk of his car.”

  “The shoe repair shop?” Enos said. “Really Fred? The one that’s been closed for the last two weeks?”

  “Let’s stay focused on what’s important,” Fred said. “I forgot that Spence was on vacation. I tried to take a pair of boots in and I happened to get caught in the doorway Brandon and Winona argued. Naturally, I didn’t want to just barge out and interrupt them.”

  “Naturally. But if you saw all this, why didn’t you tell me about this before now?”

  “I didn’t think it was important,” Fred admitted. “And I didn’t think you’d be interested. After all, you’d cleared Brandon of Joan’s murder and you told me to stay out of your investigation. I didn’t figure you’d want to hear a bunch of gossip.”

  Even with the sugar coating, Fred could tell that Enos didn’t his answer. His face grew craggy, deep lines criss-crossed above his eyes, acros
s the bridge of his nose and formed twin crevices on either side of his mouth. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what you overheard.”

  Fred told him, briefly, how Brandon had told Winona that he planned to give up on the Shadow Mountain project and how angry Winona had been with him. He filled them in on Brandon’s argument with Logan Ramsey—what he’d been able to hear of it—and told them again how they’d made plans to meet later. “To be fair, I didn’t hear either of them mention a meeting at the old mine site, but Ramsey did threaten him in a way. If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on him.”

  Kate gave a grudging nod. “Ramsey’s a desperate man. As long as Brandon went ahead with Shadow Mountain, Ramsey stood a chance of repaying the money he embezzled from the bank. But when Brandon pulled out—just like Joan did—he got desperate.”

  Enos’s toyed with his hat brim. “I wish you had come to me sooner. We might have been able to save the man’s life.”

  “You and me both,” Fred agreed. “I honestly didn’t expect this to happen.”

  “From now on, if you know something material to my investigations, I expect you to come to me. Otherwise, stay out of it. No more overhearing conversations—nothing.” Enos jammed his hat onto his head. “I’ve got to go. I just came to let Kate know about Brandon.”

  Fred pushed to his feet. “Well, you’ve done that. What’s next?”

  “Nothing, as far as you’re concerned.”

  “I guess this eliminates Brandon as a suspect in Joan’s murder.”

  With a heavy sigh, Enos turned an impatient face in his direction. “Don’t start.”

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Help? All you’ve done the past week is make more problems for me.” Enos zipped up his coat. “Don’t help. Don’t do anything. Just stay out of my way—please.” And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him.

  Fred locked the door behind Enos, afraid to turn around and let Kate see the pain he knew must show on his face. In all the years he’d known Enos, he’d never known him to lose his temper at him. Not really.

  Granted, he’d been upset by two murders in two weeks. And he was still a touch ornery from not smoking, but everything Fred had done, he’d done with the best of intentions. He’d only tried to help. He’d enjoyed helping Kate look into Joan’s death. He’d felt like he was important, making a contribution again. Never once had he thought that ignoring Enos’s advice might make Enos’s job harder and he didn’t like knowing that he’d hurt someone he truly cared about.

  Kate moved somewhere in the room behind him. “Well,” she said bitterly, “let’s hope he can do better with this murder than he did with Joan’s. It’s not like he has even a thousand suspects. He’s got what—four? five?—and he’s no further along than this after all this time—”

  Wearily, Fred turned to face her. “Enos Asay is the best sheriff you’ll find anywhere in this country.”

  Kate made a contemptuous sound and turned away.

  Fred turned back to the door and turned the lock. When he was certain Kate had left the room, he leaned his forehead against the cool glass and struggled with the most difficult decision he’d had to make in a long time.

  At last he drew a long, shuddering breath and made a vow. No matter what happened from here on out, he would not let himself get involved in the murders again.

  twenty three

  The next morning, Fred went for his daily constitutional just like usual. He walked quickly, grateful for the bright winter sunlight. He breathed deeply, enjoying the touch of frost in the clear mountain air. The temperature probably wouldn’t get above freezing all day, but Fred didn’t mind.

  Old snow squeaked under his boots as he walked the path. It had lost its moisture in the dry, icy weather and sounded more like rubber than snow.

  He followed his usual path south and rounded the curve near the lake where he’d found Joan’s body just two short weeks ago. It was hard to believe so much had happened in that time. Hard to believe the murderer had struck again, but he had. Two unrelated murders so close together in a town the size of Cutler would be too much of a coincidence—especially since the victims had been married.

  Fred didn’t feel the same about Cutler or about Spirit Lake as he had two weeks ago. He’d changed. Cutler had changed. More than anything, he wanted the murders solved and the killer behind bars so life could get back to normal. Despite his vow to stay out of Enos’s way, he’d been so deeply involved, now he could hardly think of anything else. Someone in this town he loved had committed murder. Twice. The thought obsessed him, to use Margaret’s word for it. And the murderer had to be one of four people: Logan Ramsey, Winona Fox, Summer Dey or Tony Striker.

  After Kate left tomorrow things would get back to normal. Maybe he’d learn to be content sitting in his rocking chair every day. Maybe he’d find fulfillment looking out over the world on Lake Front Drive. And maybe he wouldn’t.

  He walked on. Past Summer Dey’s cabin where the smoke from her morning fire curled lazily into the cloudless sky. Past the path that led from the lake to her house. Almost past the work shed. Its doors hung open on lazy hinges, exposing the interior to the sunlight.

  Fred stopped walking and looked at it for a moment. In that ordinary building, someone had suffocated Joan in the middle of the night. Had they left more clues? Something Enos and his deputies had missed? It was unlikely, but since there was no crime scene tape, Fred supposed it wouldn’t hurt to have a look. If Summer didn’t want people looking around, she should keep the doors shut.

  He checked to make sure nobody was watching before leaving the path. Inside, the shed smelled slightly musty, of old wood and rusted metal tools and infrequent airings-out. Ben had gotten a good start on cleaning it but there was still a lot of work to do. Boxes were piled neatly against the side walls and garden tools were gathered together neatly, but piles of rubbish and old junk covered with cobwebs leaned against the back wall, looking as if they hadn’t been touched in years.

  Someone had stacked a pile of old lumber against one wall. From one of the pieces near the top, someone had recently cut away a piece of wood. The gaping wound in the lumber looked fresh and raw. It had probably had some clue to the murder on it—skin tissue, blood or hair—and Enos or one of the lab boys had taken it away to run tests on it.

  Fred wondered if Joan had come here willingly. Was she with someone she trusted or had she been brought here against her will? Why had the killer chosen this spot when there were other places, perhaps more convenient, even more comfortable places along the lake? Fred would probably never know.

  So much junk crowded the tiny shed, the only space left where Joan and her attacker could have moved around that night was right where Fred stood. Had it happened here? Was he standing on the spot where Joan’s life had been brutally stolen from her?

  Uncomfortable with the thought, he stepped backward. At the same time, he heard footsteps nearby. He didn’t want to get caught trespassing, so he hurried toward the open doors. Slightly out of breath, he reached the front of the shed just as Summer came around the corner. She was dressed in a black sweater and pants and she’d pulled her pale hair up—or at least she’d tried. Locks of it escaped and hung in her face.

  She cried out when she saw him and put one hand over her heart. “Mr. Vickery? What are you doing here?”

  Lack of sleep made Fred’s brain sluggish, leaving him no choice but to tell the truth. He glanced over his shoulder into the shed. “Just wanted to look at the place, I guess.”

  Summer craned to look inside, grimacing in obvious distaste. “Why do you want to see in there?”

  “Curiosity, I guess. A woman died here. Her killer is still on the loose.”

  Summer nodded sadly. “Such a tragedy.” She sighed and rubbed her arms lightly. “She hasn’t been here yet. Why hasn’t she come to see the spot where Joan died? She should come.”

  The question surprised Fred. “Who? Are you talking about Kate?”r />
  “The angry one.”

  That would be Kate. “She has her own ideas.”

  “She shouldn’t let her sister’s spirit slip away without communing with the vibrations,” Summer insisted. “They could tell her so much.”

  Fred was suddenly very sorry he’d stopped to look at the shed. Maybe if he just walked away . . .

  He took a couple of steps, but Summer moved in front of him and blocked his exit. “How do you feel about this place? What does it do to you to think that someone was murdered in there?”

  “It doesn’t do anything to me,” Fred said calmly. She on the other hand, made him very nervous.

  She tilted her head toward the inside of the shed. “Really? How odd. It spooks me. I haven’t slept well since it happened, imagining someone attacking her, suffocating her with a garbage bag right here.”

  Fred’s pulse quickened. A garbage bag? How did Summer know that?

  “She must have been working off some powerful karma, that’s all I can say.”

  “Karma?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

  Summer suddenly stepped aside and Fred managed to get out of the shed. She pushed the doors closed, fastening the clasp and the padlock into place. “You know, from a previous life. Like if she was a man in a previous life and she—I don’t know—maybe she killed her wife or beat her or something and now in this life, she had to pay that debt before she could progress. Only she wasn’t paying the debt, so she had to be killed.”

  Fred tried not to let the horror that was growing inside show on his face. “This life?” He shouldn’t have asked. He could have kicked himself.

  “Our spirits are as old as time,” Summer explained. “Don’t you feel it? I can put you in touch with your higher state of consciousness and all will be explained to you.”

  He already had an explanation and it had suited him just fine for seventy-two years. He shouldn’t even be listening to this folderol. “I’m not interested.”

  “But you miss so much when you go through life only experiencing the obvious, the things your lower state of consciousness can understand. If you knew about the lives you’d lived before this one, you’d experience an amazing freedom.”