Swope's Ridge

by Ace Collins

  Lije looked at Janie and wondered again if he knew where Arif was—or at least where he’d been last night. But he saw no reason to mention it…yet. “Beals talked to the man who drove Ricardo to the bus station. In his nineties, but still sharp. Arif talked to him too.”

  “Well, at least you and Diana got a vacation at an exotic location. I can’t begin to tell you the headaches I ran into at the office yesterday.” She waited for his laugh, but it didn’t come. “Okay, next time I’ll go diving and you stay in the office.”

  “Deal.”

  Lije leaned over and again kissed her bruised forehead. He was almost to the door when she announced, “That kiss didn’t work any better than the first.”

  60

  LIJE PULLED OUT OF THE LOT AT THE FULTON COUNTY Medical Center and headed down Highway 9. A light shower had become a hard rain by the time he parked at his office and raced inside. He was surprised to find Diana Curtis in the conference room looking at the video of the shipwreck that Beals had forwarded via email.

  “When did you get in?” Lije asked.

  She paused the images. “About an hour ago. I actually got to my apartment about midnight.”

  “Thought you were going to spend the night in Batesville.”

  “No vacancies, so I drove back here. Slept like a baby. I was tired.”

  “Going to grab some sack time pretty soon myself. Janie’s out of the coma. She’s going to be okay.”

  Curtis quickly looked up, alarmed. “Coma? What happened?”

  “She was assaulted here in the office last night. If the guy had hit her any harder, she probably would’ve died. Could’ve happened anyway, but Dr. Young came by a few minutes later. Got her to the hospital.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Don’t know, maybe Arif. At least he’s at the top of my list. He might’ve followed us back and been looking for something in the office. No fingerprints. Just the ones that should have been here.”

  “What would Arif want here?”

  Lije almost told her. He almost gave away the secret only he, Nate Brooks, and Janie knew, but caught himself. “Don’t know. Nothing appears to be missing. Bleicher’s Bible had been moved. I’m guessing he was looking through it to see if it was marked like Mueller’s.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No, everything else is where it should be.” And that was true too. The formula had been put back behind Kaitlyn’s picture.

  Why didn’t he level with her? Why was he holding out on Janie finding the formula?

  “Then it must have been Arif…Think he’s still in the area?”

  “Have no idea, but let’s act like he is. Be careful.”

  Lije walked across the hall to his office. Opening the top right drawer, he retrieved the ring and medal and dropped them into his pocket. As he walked back down the hall, he yelled, “I’m going to Fannie’s to get some breakfast.”

  The rain had stopped. He walked across the wet courthouse square and slid into his usual booth.

  Fannie grilled customers with the same enthusiasm as she did burgers. Always seemed to know what was going on. “Hear Janie’s going to be fine,” the big woman announced as she slapped a menu on the table.

  Good news traveled fast in a small town. “She still needs a few days, but she’ll be back to work soon. No lasting damage.”

  “Who did it?”

  Some things never changed. Fannie’s latest query didn’t surprise him. “That’s Sheriff Wood’s job, not mine.”

  “Then we’ll never know. What’s ya need?”

  “Pancakes and sausage.”

  “Coke to drink?”

  “You know me well.”

  As Fannie walked back to the kitchen, Lije pulled out the ring and the medal and turned them over in his hands. He stared at them. How had JoJo’s ring and a Nazi combat medal ended up in an old farmer’s estate sale? Why was JoJo’s annual in the house at Swope’s Ridge?

  And Mexico. The shipwreck proved the Ark of Death was more than a legend. Was the formula worthless or a recipe for a catastrophe? And who had Sanchez taken to the bus stop? And why would the mystery man go to a place that wasn’t on any map?

  Lije knew he had the right pieces. Yet none of them fit together. What he needed was to find the key piece, then everything else would drop into place.

  “What’s on your mind?” Fannie asked as she set the food and Coke on the table.

  “Oz.”

  “Yeah, a rainbow does make you think of that old movie. Look outside.”

  Lije looked out the window at the multicolored arch over the town and suddenly heard the words Judy Garland had said to her dog: “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  Of course! Kansas! He looked at the ring and medal. It was time to go to the wonderful world of Oz.

  61

  IT WAS TEN ON FRIDAY MORNING WHEN LIJE FINALLY convinced Curtis to take off for the weekend. Her old college friends were having a mini reunion in Little Rock. Janie was healing much faster than expected, but had to spend the weekend in the hospital. Heather was still working with the students in Little Rock. So Lije was on his own.

  He closed the office and drove to Hardy, where he picked up Robert Cathcart and the guest the professor had insisted was an expert on World War II history. Lije was sure Dr. Edith Lehning was on the trip more for personal reasons. After his chance reunion with Lehning at OBU, Cathcart had changed. At times he was almost giddy.

  Two hours after leaving Cathcart’s hilltop home, the trio boarded a Great Lakes Airways flight that took them to Kansas City. They changed planes at Kansas City International and finally deplaned in Liberal, Kansas. The mural on the small airport’s wall proudly declared that they had landed in Oz.

  After renting a Ford Focus, they drove north on U.S. Highway 83 until they reached the quaint prairie community of Sublette. The trip had taken eight hours, five hours of it in the air, but it seemed like so much more to the weary travelers. Still, as they pulled into the small community, their spirits rose. Parking the car on the main drag, Lije found that stepping out into the fresh Midwestern air was rejuvenating.

  Western Kansas was a lot different from the hills of Arkansas. It was almost a culture shock. There were few trees and no hills. Glancing toward the west, the sky appeared huge and the horizon endless. There was a charm about the place, though. It was homey, friendly, and sturdy. It probably had to be sturdy just to stand up to the wind.

  “Not much to stop the wind,” Lije noted, pushing the hair off his forehead.

  “I’d call this wide-open spaces,” Cathcart said. “I’m famished.”

  Lije pointed to the Hamburger Palace across the street. The sign claimed the best food in the world. “We should be able to get some grain-fed beef in there.”

  The Palace’s dozen or so patrons all glanced their way as the trio entered. The restaurant was small and quaint, with a 1960s feel. The booths had metallic red-and-white seats, the tables sported Formica tops, and the only menu was painted on the wall. Judging from the aroma, Lije figured he’d made a great choice.

  “How you doing?” an elderly man asked. He wore jeans and a work shirt, topped with a John Deere cap. “Welcome to the flattest spot in the United States. You can see forever here.”

  “We’ve seen a lot of wheat,” Cathcart said.

  “And corn and wind turbines,” Lehning added. “Looks like you all are on the cutting edge of green energy. But right now I want a slice of one of those cows I spotted on the ride up from Liberal.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place. Shalee’ll be right with you.”

  “Thanks,” Lije said, sliding into a booth about halfway along the far wall.

  An energetic high school girl waltzed over; her lively brown eyes and sun-streaked brunette hair framed a face that smiled as easily as the sun shined in the desert. She had to be both the head cheerleader and the homecoming queen because surely in a community this small there couldn’t be two kids with this kind of beauty
and charm.

  “Haven’t seen you before,” she said, pulling a pad and pen from the apron she’d tied over her jeans. “You just passing through?”

  “Kind of looking around,” Lije explained. “What do you suggest we order?’

  Shalee leaned closer. “I don’t eat anything here. Too fattening. But you could go with the steakburger basket. The meat’s real lean and I’ll make sure they drain the fat off the fries before I bring ’em out. That way it won’t be too bad for your system.”

  “Sounds good.” Lije grinned. “I’ll take a basket and a Coke.”

  Cathcart looked at Lehning, then ordered for both. “We’ll take the same, with two glasses of water.”

  “Can you give me directions to the funeral home?” Lije asked. “You have somebody pass away?” she whispered, the bright smile suddenly evaporating into a look of genuine concern. “If that’s the reason for your visit, I’m so sorry.” She was sincere.

  “No,” Lije explained, “but I need to ask a few questions.”

  “Then you must know someone who’s about to die. Who is it? I’ve heard Ruth Willis is fading fast. You’re not related to her are you? She was my babysitter a long time ago.”

  Lije shook his head. “No. No one I know is dying.”

  “Then why do you want to visit with our undertaker?” She seemed confused. “Healthy folks usually avoid him. Especially him !”

  Lije considered how to answer that. Finally he opted for no explanation. “I just need to see him.”

  “Well,” she replied, her disappointment obvious, “his name is Fred Murphy. He’s sitting in that back booth all by himself. If all you need to do is visit, then just head on back there while I get your food.”

  Lije walked over to the back booth, where the funeral director was just finishing a sandwich. When he noticed the stranger approaching, he wiped his mouth. “Can I help you?”

  “You’re Fred Murphy?” Lije asked.

  “Yes, I am.” His voice was soft, his manner polite.

  “Could I take a bit of your time?”

  “I have all the insurance I need. And my pest-control contract runs for three more years.”

  Sliding into the booth, Lije smiled and said, “Nothing like that. I’m just trying to solve an old family mystery.”

  “A mystery?”

  “My name’s Lije Evans. I’m from northern Arkansas.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Murphy replied, his voice again welcoming. “Why do you call it ‘Ar-kan-saw’ when it’s spelled like Kansas?”

  Lije ignored the barb. “A few days ago I bought a class ring and a World War II medal from an internet auction site. They both came from an estate sale here in Sublette. The dead man’s name was Schneider.”

  “Oh, Schneider. William died a few weeks back. We handled the body, but there were no services. Used to be five of those brothers, but now there’s only one left and he must be close to ninety.”

  “My great-aunt disappeared from Ash Flat, Arkansas, in the forties. Her class ring was in Schneider’s estate. I thought maybe I could come up here and find out how her ring got here.”

  Murphy took another sip of milk. “There were never any women up at the Schneiders’ place. Not a one. Afraid I can’t help you. I wasn’t born until 1958.”

  “What about Schneider’s living brother?”

  “James doesn’t talk to anybody. None of those brothers ever did. They were loners. Never married. Worked their farms together, ate together, and never went anywhere except to sell their grain or buy stuff at the grocery or the feed store.”

  “You think James would see us?”

  “If you took one step on his place, he’d shoot you. Only ones who get on that farm are the people he hires to help him with his crops, and there are certain buildings they aren’t even allowed to look in. Strange people.”

  “No funeral.”

  “Nope, just sent the body off to be cremated, took the ashes out to the cemetery, laid him to rest beside the other three.”

  “Anything unusual about the body? Any tattoos?”

  “Yeah, probably the family symbol or something. Two fancy S’s. All four brothers had it on the same place on their arms.”

  “Did they look like this?” Lije asked. Pulling a napkin from a dispenser, he drew the double lightning rods signifying Hitler’s most feared men.

  “Yeah, that’s it. And there was one more thing. Really strange. They all had these really fancy boots. Never saw them wear them, but they had to have them on when they were cremated.”

  His hunch had been right. But how did JoJo tie in? He thanked the funeral director and walked back to the booth.

  “Get what you need?” Shalee asked as she set the red plastic baskets on the table.

  “Yes, thank you,” Lije replied. “Just one more thing. Do you know any old-timers who have a grasp of history in this area?”

  “Sure, but how much is real and how much is remembering big is hard for me to figure out. The way my grandfather tells it, the snows were a lot deeper and the farm a lot farther from school than it is now. The snow might have been deeper, but the farm and school haven’t moved.”

  “I’m looking for someone who might remember events that happened right after World War II.”

  “That’s a long time ago,” Shalee said. “I’ll do some thinking on it.”

  “One other thing: what are the first three digits of your phone numbers here? The three numbers that come right after the area code.”

  “Oh, 584.” She was a bit confused why he would ask.

  “Can I use the phone? It’s a local call.”

  “Sure.”

  Lije pulled out Bleicher’s “Buy War Bonds” matchbook. Opening the lid, he read again the Jupiter 4-7623, then tapped in the seven digits that went with the old letter-and-number system. Three rings later a man answered, “Yello.”

  “Who is this?” Lije asked.

  “Schneider,” the man replied. “And you?”

  Lije smiled and dropped the phone back into the cradle. The number hadn’t changed.

  62

  LIJE SAID NOTHING TO CATHCART OR LEHNING, BUT they should’ve been able to read the wonder now etched on his face. He’d found the needle in the haystack and he had eBay to thank. What luck! Or was it? Was there a hand guiding each move, pushing them in the right direction to uncover the answers to solve Kaitlyn’s death and save Omar Jones? Whatever it was, he knew he’d soon be speaking face to face with the man at the other end of Jupiter 4-7623.

  A few minutes later, just as they were finishing their sandwiches, the man who had greeted them when they first entered the Palace ambled over and pulled a chair up to their table. His expression was no longer open and inviting. It was now deadly serious.

  “I’m Glen Osterbur,” he said. “I’m old, my sight’s not what it once was, I move pretty slow, but my hearing’s still keen. I heard what you asked Murphy, and then Shalee put a bug in my ear that you were looking for some, what she called, ancient history.”

  Lije looked at the man. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

  “No, sir. I just might be able to help you. My dad used to be the law in this part of the world. He was pretty good too. Not much got by him. You said you had a relative you traced to Sublette? When do you think she was here?”

  “I don’t know that she was,” Lije said. “Josephine Worle was in her late twenties when she disappeared from Ash Flat, Arkansas, in 1946. One day she was at work and the next it was like she was simply caught up in a wind and blown away. She took nothing with her. My family never heard from her again. Then last week I found her class ring on eBay being sold by a man in Liberal. He’d bought it from William Schneider’s estate.”

  “Was she raven headed, about five-foot-three, and had a creamy complexion?”

  “Sounds like the pictures I’ve seen.”

  The man nodded. “As soon as you finish up here, take a drive out to the cemetery. Five miles north on the highway. Can’t miss it.
I’ve got to get something from my house and I’ll meet you there. Don’t take too long or it’ll be dark.”

  Osterbur pushed the chair back under the neighboring table and shuffled out the door. He was getting into a fifteen-year-old Ranger truck when Cathcart asked, “What do you think that’s all about?”

  “He knows something,” Lije said. “We’re in the right place.”

  After leaving money on the table, Lije headed toward the door with Cathcart and Lehning right on his heels.

  63

  THE RIDE TO SUBLETTE CEMETERY WAS A STRAIGHT shot through farmland. The old burial ground was well cared for. Graves had simple markers. This far away from town, surrounded by nothing but farmland, it seemed a lonely place to Lije—although ever since Lije had buried Kaitlyn, every cemetery felt that way.

  Lije parked his rental beside Osterbur’s Ford Ranger. The man was standing in front of a grave marked by a small headstone.

  Lije, Cathcart, and Lehning said nothing as they walked toward Osterbur. With no ceremony, he handed Lije a folder. The lawyer opened it and noted an eight-by-ten black-and-white photograph on top of probably a hundred pages of forms and notes. Though the picture had obviously been taken post mortem, he still recognized the woman. She’d been in many family photographs.

  “Is that her?” Osterbur asked.

  Lije nodded. Looking down at the gravestone, he realized why the man had brought them out to this place.

  Unknown woman

  Died 1946

  May God Have Mercy on Her Soul

  “My father spent most of his life trying to find out who shot her and why. She was dumped on a farm road a few miles from town. There was no ID and no area reports of anyone missing. He put out notices, but never got a response. He had her buried here.

  “I was a kid back then, just a teenager. But even I sensed how this got to him. We had a big service for her. The case was so sad. The folks around Sublette kind of adopted her as our own. Even the Schneider brothers turned out for the funeral. My dad gave the money for the stone.”