Forest Outings (A Coffee and Crime Mystery Book 3)

by Nan Sampson

  Knowing the papers had to be important, she tucked them into the pocket of her coat, then started back the way she had come. With her flashlight beam held to illuminate her way back, she came around the snow-covered mound again. If she hadn’t been looking down, she never would have seen it. But in the bright beam of the flashlight, there was no mistaking what stuck out of the end of the pile of snow. It was a woman’s expensive brown loafer. And attached to it, almost as pale as the snow, was a woman’s ankle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  With a shudder, Ellie squatted down next to the long mound of snow. She didn’t really want to see any more of the woman who belonged to that pale ankle, although she had a good idea who it was before she wiped a bit of the snow from the pasty white face, but she had to be sure.

  Margaret Roesch stared up at her, eyes wide open and filmed over. For a second, Ellie thought perhaps the shriek she had heard had been Margaret’s last sound, just minutes before, but looking at those eyes, it was clear Margaret had been dead much longer. The shriek may have been hers, but it was nothing more than a memory of the event, of the moment during which she’d lost her life.

  Feeling her stomach lurch, Ellie struggled to her feet and stumbled towards her van. Leaning against the driver’s door, she vomited up her lunch. Moments later, trembling violently, but once again in control, she retrieved her cell phone from the van and called the police.

  The next few hours were a blur. The memory of Margaret Roesch’s face, white and blank and wreathed by snow was inexorably linked now with the flashing of police lights and the busy radio chatter from the cruisers that descended upon the scene just minutes after she made her phone call.

  Gruetzmacher sat with her in her van, turning the heat on full blast, while she sat in the passenger’s seat and shivered uncontrollably.

  “You’re making a regular hobby out of finding of bodies, Ellie.”

  “I’m starting a collection,” she muttered, realizing it was a stupid thing to say, but unable in the moment to censor herself.

  Surprisingly, Gruetzmacher chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, if anyone else should turn up missing.” He handed her a little red cup that fit on a thermos. “Here. Drink this, it will help.”

  She was expecting coffee, but it was brandy. Or maybe whiskey. Either way, it warmed her all the way down, although she sputtered and choked at the first gulp she took.

  “Easy there. I should have warned you.”

  She drained the cup and handed it back. “There any more of that?”

  “Yes, but I think that’s enough for now. You feel well enough to tell me about this?”

  She nodded. She wanted this over now. “I can manage. Although there’s not much to tell.”

  “Just start at the beginning,” he suggested idiotically.

  So Ellie did. She told him about her errand to Laura’s house, and how she’d been curious as she passed by the Mueller property. She even told him about the place memory she experienced, although she didn’t expect him to believe her about that. When he didn’t interrupt her with a stupid comment, she went on, explaining about the car engine she’d heard and then the large, dark vehicle that had sped off. She told him everything, including how she’d gotten sick by the van.

  “How did you know it was Ms. Roesch? Given how dark it was, I’m surprised you recognized her.”

  Ellie gave a shudder. She’d known from the moment she saw the shoe. She said as much.

  Grueztmacher took notes on his ubiquitous cop’s notebook then called out the window to one of the other officers.

  “Marcus will drive you home, now, and then one of the other officers will bring him back. You take it easy today and tomorrow, and I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”

  Ellie nodded, feeling numb and disconnected. Finding Link had been horrible, but she’d somehow managed to keep it together. Now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and stay there forever.

  When Marcus Kemp dropped her off at the cabin, other than letting Erik out and putting food in his bowl, that’s exactly what she did.

  It was well after midnight when Charlie’s ‘new’ rental car crunched to a halt in the drive outside the cabin. Ellie had been dozing fitfully, dreaming dreadful things and was almost grateful to be awakened. The image of Margaret Roesch’s blanched, snow-covered face still haunted her. She got up and blearily climbed down from the loft as he as he tip-toed in.

  “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I was hoping you’d be sound asleep.”

  “I was worried.”

  That made him smile. “I’m sorry you were worried… but a part of me is also glad that you were.”

  “How was the trip?”

  “Unproductive. But I hear it was an eventful evening.”

  She looked around her, as though the remains of a party she didn’t know she’d had were in evidence. “How did you know?”

  “I’d have to be living in a cave not to have heard. It’s all over the news. Good Lord, Ellie, I swear, I’m going to buy you a television for Christmas -- and the cable package you need to go with it.”

  “I get all the news I need at the shop.”

  “Not when it happens after business hours. But since you already know, I’m assuming one of the gossip brigade called you to tell you.”

  She shook her head and plopped down on the couch, feeling queasy again. “Unfortunately, I got the news first hand. I was the one who found her.”

  By the time she finished giving him all the gruesome details, it was nearly one a.m. They both collapsed into bed, but despite feeling comforted by Charlie’s solid weight at her back, Ellie spent the rest of the night wide awake.

  The coverage of the discovery of Margaret Roesch’s body was all over the news the next morning. She and Marg sat opened-mouthed on stools in the kitchen, watching ton their little TV as reporters from Madison converge on the Mueller property.

  On the spot reporting – and frankly, at this point there was nothing really to report – was interspersed with film taken the night before, shots of the run-down house, scenes of a snowy rural road, and the departure of the coroner’s wagon. Police lights strobed, disco-like, giving the impression of some macabre late night party, and several uniformed officers milled around, drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups. She watched in horrified fascination as they showed a clip of the coroner’s boys wheeling a gurney out from behind the house, loaded up with a black body bag.

  Although she’d been there, she’d been mostly sequestered in Bill Gruetzmacher’s 4x4, so she’d missed most of the action – which in retrospect had been a very good thing. She and Marg listened as the talking heads started re-hashing the facts they’d already covered several times. The body had been found at around ten o’clock the night before, by a local woman, whose name had not been disclosed. Thank Goddess for that, Ellie thought. According to the reporters, the woman had discovered the body underneath some bushes at the back of the house, which while wasn’t exactly precise, Ellie sure as hell wasn’t going to call the TV station to correct it.

  There was no word on who might have committed the crime, and no cause of death had been released by the authorities yet, said the fellow with the perfectly coiffed hair, but the local Chief of Police assured the media that they are pursuing a number of leads.

  Gods. How many times during the investigation of her parents’ murders had Ellie heard that?

  Those were the all the facts that anyone seemed to know, although the media seemed to think that if they repeated it often enough, some new clue might emerge, parthenogenically, from the existing facts.

  It wasn’t just on the news, either. Every customer who came in that morning looked both shocked and to some degree relieved that the real estate developer was dead and each had some new tidbit to offer that might or might not be the least bit true.

  Harvey Briggs, the postman, said that he’d heard Margaret had been shot in the head, execution style, and that it had to be s
ome sort of mob connection. Sarah Kreiger, the owner of the gift shop across the street, said she’d heard Margaret’s throat had been slit by an ex-lover who was jealous of her relationship with Karl Howard, and that the police had taken a Madison man into custody. Les Proud, who worked as a private security guard at the local U-Store-It said he heard the body had been found nude.

  Ellie didn’t given anyone’s story much credence. It was nothing but rumors, unless someone on Bill’s staff had been telling stories out of school. Marg, however, believed everyone, each story sounding more true to her than the last.

  The morning sped by, as half the town stopped in a few at a time to get a cuppa and a serving of gossip. By lunch time, Ellie was more than ready to get out of the shop and spend an hour with the most sensible man she knew. She was just heading across the street to the Crock Pot when she saw Per’s brand new, white, Ford F150 driving slowly up the street towards her.

  The vehicle pulled up beside her and Per rolled down the passenger side window. “I’ve got to run up to the Mough’s. Earl needs some help with one of the calves.”

  “Oh.” It was a disappointment. “Okay. You make sure Patti feeds you lunch.”

  “I won’t starve. Have you talked to Charlie this morning?”

  “No. He was asleep when I left. He got in late last night and I don’t think he came to bed until it practically time for me to get up.”

  “He told me he was going to meet with Bill this morning. Just wondering what he managed to learn.”

  “Probably nothing, but if I hear from him, I’ll tell him to call you.”

  Per shook his head. “Not necessary. Look, why don’t you both come for dinner tonight?”

  She’d been looking forward to spending a quiet evening at home. There had been a time, not too many months ago, when that had been her routine, and she’d come to cherish it. These days, she felt like she never had a moment to herself. Yet, she liked and respected Per and had no wish to insult his offer of hospitality. “Sure. Do you want me to bring anything?”

  “Just a good appetite – and don’t forget to bring Erik!” He waved at her and rolled the window back up.

  She waved back as he drove off down the street then headed again towards the Crock Pot to get lunch, now just for herself.

  The evening sky was bleak and overcast, so thick with clouds that even the light of the full moon couldn’t break through. The air was bitter cold again, and by the time they reached Per’s cabin, Ellie had wished they’d driven instead, no matter what all those oatmeal cookies were doing to her waist line. Per must have been listening for them, because by the time they got to the front door, it was opening.

  Erik pushed his way in, past Per and then into the living room to plant himself on the braided rug in front of the fireplace.

  Per chuckled as he closed the door behind them and helped them off with their coats. “It’s too bad Erik doesn’t feel at home here.”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t have anything to do with the treats you’re always feeding him.” She unwound her scarf from around her neck. “What smells so good?”

  “It’s an experiment. I’m not very practiced at vegetarian cooking, but this recipe seemed easy enough to adapt. It’s Portobello mushroom stroganoff.”

  Charlie seemed to come to at the smell of food. “Wow. That smells awesome. Don’t suppose you have a good loaf of French bread to go with?”

  “Not only a loaf a bread but a nice bottle of Shiraz as well.” He placed the tips of his fingers together. “You do drink Australian, don’t you?”

  “Love it.”

  “Ah, good. So many people pooh-pooh the Australian wines, but I find them delightful.”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “Can we move this conversation into the other, bigger room?” She shooed them out of the little mud room and went to sit on the enormous, distressed leather sofa that had to be almost as old as she was. She sank into the squishy cushions and leaned her head against the high back. “Gods and Goddesses, I’m tired.”

  “Then you sit and relax. Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.” He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and whistled as he returned. “Here, this should tide us over until things are ready.”

  He set a tray on the hewn-oak table, loaded with a half dozen types of cheese, water crackers, and a large dish of homemade garlic and jalapeno hummus that she knew Per had gotten from Arabella Kemp for Christmas. “Come on. If you don’t eat, I’ll have my feelings hurt.”

  Ellie needed no further encouragement. She was starving. Charlie followed slowly, still in a fog.

  Per poured a little wine for them and handed round the glasses. “I wanted to have you over tonight because you are my dearest friends and I wanted to share some news with you.”

  Ellie got a sick feeling in her stomach. Was he moving away?

  He reached down and pulled out a decorative gift back, the handles tied up in a ribbon, then handed it to Ellie.

  “What’s this?”

  Per’s eyes were sparkling. “Just open it.” He clasped his hands together nervously. “I had Laura Lincoln wrap it up for me – I have no skill at that kind of thing.”

  Ellie untied the ribbons and pulled out the tissue paper stuck in the top of the bag. Beneath it all was a hardbound book. She withdrew it carefully, found herself looking at the back of the dust jacket, which bore a photograph of a very familiar Norwegian.

  “Per! That’s you! You wrote a book?”

  She flipped it over and read: Voices from the Woods; Poems and Essays from a Norwegian Journey.

  “Holy cow! Per, you never told me you were writing a book! Oh my God!”

  Per looked pleasantly embarrassed. “I didn’t want to mention it, in case it was judged to be truly awful. Frankly, it probably is, but the nice people at Brown Cow Publishing seemed to like it, so…”

  Ellie hurried around the table and gave her friend a hug. “I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to read it.”

  Charlie stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, old man. That’s fantastic!”

  The rest of the evening was a true celebration, and for a little while, Ellie thought they all managed to forget about the local tragedies. They even managed to persuade Per to read a couple of poems from his book, after plying him with a couple of snifters of Drambuie.

  Later, back at home, after a brief period of what Ellie was starting to refer to as ‘distraction’, they snuggled under the covers and took turns reading more poems from the book. They were both surprised at how good the collection really was. As always, Per continued to delight and surprise her and she was thankful once again to count him as her good friend. At last, even as Charlie continued to read, she turned onto her side, and drifted off into a contented sleep.

  The next morning, the sky was still leaden and low, and the temp was somewhere in the single digits again. Even so, Ellie’s mood was ebullient as she drove down the empty streets of town. This morning, anything seemed possible. Even finding the evidence she needed to prove that Josh hadn’t killed Link.

  That led her to the memory of finding of Margaret Roesch’s body. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but think that the two events were connected. Horizon had rarely seen violent crime and to have to murders happen right on the heels of one another stretched the limits of coincidence.

  Yet the media, and therefore, she assumed, the authorities, didn’t seem to be making that connection. Charlie had filled her in the night before about his visit to Gruetzmacher’s office the previous afternoon, and from all he could gather, no one there thought the two deaths were related. Although he hadn’t been able to meet with Gruetzmacher himself, Charlie had spent nearly an hour chatting up the other officers there, and in typical Charlie fashion, was now on a first name basis with all of them. He’d been invited to go ice-fishing by Sam Klein, and Charlene McKenna had asked him if he were free for dinner some night.

  “You turned her down, right?” Ellie had asked.

  “Well, not precisely. I told h
er I’d accept if I could bring my girlfriend’s dog.”

  She’d hit him with her pillow.

  What was odd, she thought, as she pulled into her spot in the alley behind the shop, was that Gruetzmacher seemed to be making himself so unavailable. Ellie supposed he didn’t want to deal with the press, but she’d have thought he’d have been just as susceptible to the magical Charlie Charm as everyone else, and Charlie didn’t seem to be able to get in to see him. Which only meant that Ellie would have to try.

  Charlie had also mentioned that he’d been able to get one of the officers – he refused to mention who, but Ellie was willing to bet big money it was either McKenna or Brenda Klein -- to give him the coroner’s preliminary report on Link, but it had been too late to go over what he’d discovered last night. They’d agreed to meet for a ‘picnic’ lunch to talk about it, but Charlie promised her there was nothing earth shattering and nothing, unfortunately, that they could use to clear Josh.

  The other thing that Ellie needed to do today was pay a call on Patti and find out how she was doing.

  As she unlocked the back door, she was surprised to smell dough rising and coffee brewing.

  “Marg?” She called out as she came in, but got no answer. Instead, she heard laughter coming from the kitchen.

  Pushing open the swinging door, she almost backed right out again. Marg stood with her back to the counter, her arms wrapped around the neck of a man in the navy blue nylon coat and wide brimmed hat of an on-duty lawman. The lawman had his head down, leaning in for a kiss.