LOCAL WOMAN DISAPPEARS
Miss Beatrice Ryder, of Ryder Road, age 51, has been reported missing by her friends. Anyone with information is requested to call the Connecticut State Police.
Well, that told Josie exactly nothing. She moved on to the next article.
MISSING WOMAN’S CAR FOUND
The car of Miss Beatrice Ryder, who has been missing for the last two weeks, has been located in a city south of here. The state police are investigating all leads. Anyone with information is requested to call the Connecticut State Police.
Skunked again. Josie sat back, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. She went back to the first article. What else had been going on in Dorset Falls around the time of the disappearance? It was worth a look.
Josie scanned through the other articles on the front page: County Dairy Princess Named. New Stoplight Installed on Main Street. Dorset Falls Bijou to Show Double Feature this Saturday. Local Football Team Beats Collingswood Academy.
Collingswood. She was seeing that name everywhere. She read the article.
The Dorset Falls Falcons scored an upset victory over last year’s state champions, the Collingswood Academy Cougars. In a nail-biting overtime game, the Falcons scored a final touchdown to end the game with a score of 21-14. Outstanding performances were given by Douglas Brewster for the Cougars and Timothy Wagner for the Falcons.
Dougie? He was playing high school football at the same time Bea disappeared? That meant the other men who had dinner at the lake last night, with the exception of Alden Brewster, had also been on the team.
Was there a connection? It didn’t seem likely. Josie scanned the text of the rest of the articles. Her eyes passed over, then went back, to a name in the dairy princess feature. Richard Steuben. Mayor Richard Steuben presented Miss Jennifer Scott with the Dorset Falls Dairy Princess crown last Saturday.
Richard Steuben. That had to be Rick Steuben’s . . . father. So he’d been mayor of Dorset Falls when Bea disappeared. This was significant, it had to be, but Josie didn’t know how the pieces fit. Her thoughts turned to the argument Dougie and Rick had had last night, and she wondered again what their “agreement” could have been.
On a whim, she pulled up an Internet browser and typed in “Collingswood Academy.” A website appeared, showing photos of venerable-looking ivy-covered buildings surrounded by beautiful landscaping and beautiful teenagers with perfect teeth and artfully casual haircuts.
She clicked on the Events tab. A calendar appeared, populated with a month’s worth of activities. She read through them, then read through again.
There was no mention of any reunion.
So the gathering of men at Alden Brewster’s lake house was a private reunion. Why would Dougie arrange a get-together of his old football pals now?
Bea Ryder’s house had been bought, and renovations were being made to it, potentially bringing her disappearance—and probable murder—back into the light.
There was only one explanation that made sense. Some, or all, of the members of that year’s Collingswood Cougars knew something about Bea Ryder, and were meeting to figure out what to do. Josie would bet on it.
Chapter 25
Josie drove to Miss Marple Knits and parked out front. She replayed everything she knew and kept coming back to the same conclusion. It was no coincidence that the football team was back in town.
When Josie got inside, Evelyn was seated in her favorite chair, knitting on the same big project she’d been working on yesterday. It had grown by another several inches, so she must have been working on it last night. “Everything all right?” Evelyn asked. “Or did you just have a late night?” She pulled up some yarn from the ball somewhere inside her cavernous purse and made a few stitches.
“I’m fine, and yes, it was a late night.” Josie poured herself a cup of tea and sat down. “Ev, do you remember anything about Dorset Falls when you first moved here?”
“What do you mean by ‘anything’?” Evelyn looked her in the eye. “What’s this really about?”
Josie blew out a breath. “It’s this Bea Ryder mystery. Every time I look at or think about her doilies, I think about her. What could have happened to her. Why she never came back.”
Evelyn nodded. “I understand. But we should really talk to Helen. She’ll remember.”
“Where is Helen, anyway? She hasn’t been around in a few days. I hope she’s not sick or anything?”
“Nope. She’s just spending some time with her niece over in Westchester County. She’ll be back tomorrow. I texted her and made her promise to come to our knitting drop-in.”
Josie had forgotten about that. Maybe she would come after all. Especially if Helen was going to be there.
The bells rang, and Josie and Evelyn both looked up. Four women came in. They each grabbed a basket and dispersed around the shop. Based on the yarn lust Josie could see written on each face, it was going to be a lucrative morning.
* * *
The women were as good as their yarn lust promised. By the time they left, Miss Marple Knits was a couple hundred dollars richer.
Evelyn looked at her watch. “We close in thirty minutes. Do you mind if I run home now and pick up the casserole I made for Roy?”
The casserole. Right. She and Evelyn had planned to go see him. Josie felt a little flutter in her stomach. She hoped Mitch would be home.
“Go on ahead. We should each take our own car. That way I can go home after you do your evaluation.”
“I’ll have you know, my powers of observation are very keen.” Evelyn put her project into her bag and snapped the top closed.
“I know that better than most, Evelyn. Now go. Whenever you get back, we’ll close up and go.”
While she waited for Evelyn, Josie went back into the storeroom. The doilies were as she had left them. She picked one up. It smelled nice and fresh, and when she held it to the light, she could see that the thread had a faint sheen. Very pretty. She pictured it sewn onto a white pillow, for a tone-on-tone look that was popular. It would also look wonderful against a black background—very contemporary, despite the age of the embellishment. She set the doily back down on the table, then gathered all the rest into a stack, which she carried out into the main shop and placed on the counter. Oh, Bea. I wish you could talk to me.
Evelyn didn’t waste any time getting back, parking out front and honking her horn. Casseroles waited for no one, Josie supposed. She grabbed her purse and sweater and locked up behind herself.
Josie got into her Saab, then waited for Evelyn’s Buick to pull away from the curb. The drive to the Woodruff farm was just a little bit shorter than going home, since the farm was closer to town. Evelyn turned into the driveway, shut off her engine, and got out. Josie did the same.
The Woodruff farmhouse was about the same vintage as Eb’s, which was to say about Civil War era. Josie had never actually been inside, but she’d been to the alpaca paddock several times. New porch floorboards, identifiable because they were of light-colored wood that had not yet been painted, were interspersed with old ones, and a new railing had been installed around the perimeter of the porch. The Woodruffs had been busy.
“Do you think we should have called first?” Josie said. Back in New York, no one ever just popped in unannounced.
“Hold this.” Evelyn handed Josie the foil-wrapped casserole. A small, square paper was taped to the top. “Chicken Divan” was written in Evelyn’s perfect penmanship on the paper, along with simple heating instructions. Evelyn rang the bell. “Nonsense,” she said to Josie. “We’re neighbors—at least you are—and this is the neighborly thing to do.”
Josie glanced toward the barn. Mitch’s SUV was parked there. Roy’s truck was nowhere to be seen.
Evelyn rang the bell again, frowning. “I can’t just leave this here on the table. Where do you suppose they could be?” She reached out toward the doorknob. Evelyn had some moxie, but would it extend to walking into someone’s home uninvited?
They didn’t h
ave to find out. The door opened, and Mitch Woodruff’s face broke into a broad grin when he saw them.
“Mrs. Graves, Josie, come in. I was out in the backyard garden, checking on the asparagus.”
“Mitchell Woodruff, you call me Evelyn. And the minute that asparagus shoots up, you let me know.”
Mitch’s grin got wider. “Yes, ma’am. There’s going to be a lot this year, looks like. And we don’t eat that much, so I’ll be glad to give some away in a couple weeks.” He held the door open for them, and Evelyn marched inside. Josie followed. Mitch brushed her arm with his own as she passed. “Sorry,” he said, looking anything but. Josie wasn’t exactly sorry either, but the contact would have been a lot more interesting if they each hadn’t been wearing several layers of clothes. “What have you got there?”
“That is a casserole,” Evelyn declared. “We heard Roy was . . . not quite himself.” She craned her neck around, not even trying to be discreet. “Is he here?”
Mitch took the casserole from Josie. “That’s very nice of you,” he said. “Dinner delivered by two beautiful women. What more could a couple of bachelor farmers want?” He held Josie’s gaze a moment longer, then turned to Evelyn. “Just go on into the living room and make yourselves comfortable while I put this into the fridge.”
Evelyn led the way, obviously having been here before on one of her casserole distribution runs. Josie unwound the scarf from around her neck and sat down on the loveseat. Evelyn took an armchair. She waved her hand at Josie. “Move over,” she whispered.
“Why?” Josie whispered back, complying automatically. But before Evelyn could answer, Mitch came in. He strode over and sat down next to Josie. The corners of Evelyn’s mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smile. For the love of Worth, was Josie that pathetic that she needed help in the maybe-possibly-gonna-date-someday department? Apparently so.
“Now,” Evelyn said, back to business. “Where’s Roy?”
Mitch settled back into the loveseat. Josie tried to relax, but couldn’t. “He’s gone to the hardware store in Torrington. What’s this really about, ladies?” He said “ladies,” but his eyes were on Evelyn.
Evelyn finally unzipped her knitted sweater-jacket and looked Mitch in the eye. “I’ll get straight to the point,” she said. “Roy’s been seen in town acting strangely. So we came out here to see what’s what. Now when will he be back?”
From where she sat, Josie could see a little muscle twitch below Mitch’s ear. He hadn’t shaved this morning and had a cute dark stubble covering his strong jawline and chin.
“What do you mean by ‘strangely’?” he asked.
“Just what I said, right, Josie?” Evelyn folded her hands in her lap. She must have left her giant purse containing her knitting in the car, because it was nowhere in sight. Her hands looked fidgety, as though she needed a yarn fix.
“Josie?” Mitch turned to look at her.
How did you tell a person his grandfather had gone off the deep end? She thought about what she’d want if they were talking about Eb instead of Roy and decided to be frank. “There’s a rumor going around town that Roy is talking to aliens.” There. She’d said it.
Mitch continued to regard her. “That gossip’s made it to the general store, eh?” He stood. “Come on, ladies. Let me show you something.” He headed for the living room door. Evelyn looked at Josie and nodded. They followed him through the house and out the kitchen door.
“This used to be a tool shed,” Mitch said, leading them to a building about eight feet square on a side. A large antenna was mounted on top, along with a satellite dish. “Roy converted it a few months ago to a kind of private radio station. He had all this amateur radio stuff left over from when he was a kid, and he set it all up out here.”
Mitch opened the door, and they all stepped inside. A long table was covered with all kinds of ancient-looking equipment: speakers, boxes with knobs and dials, antennas on a smaller scale than the one on the roof. An old metal office chair upholstered in green vinyl sat behind the table, and positioned on the table in front of the chair was a microphone on a stand.
“What is amateur radio?” Josie asked. Nothing about this setup looked remotely fun, and weren’t hobbies supposed to be fun? But to each his own, she supposed.
“Without going into too much detail,” Mitch said, “amateur, or ham, radio operators with the proper equipment can tune in and talk to people all over the world. It’s sort of a proto-Skype or FaceTime, except all you need is the equipment to harness the electromagnetic radio waves to make it work. No cell or Internet service. It’s been around for a long time now.”
Evelyn’s foot began to tap, ever so slightly. “So this is where it’s happening?”
Mitch nodded. “A couple weeks ago, Roy came back into the house after being out here all night. He was agitated, and not just from lack of sleep. I handed him a cup of coffee—and, yeah, caffeine probably wasn’t the best thing to give him at that point, but I had to make a choice between making him even more jittery or giving him a rip-roaring headache from lack of coffee.”
“I need my coffee in the morning too,” Josie said. “Go on.”
“Well, he said he’d been hailed the last few nights by someone who didn’t speak English.”
“So?” Evelyn said. “I’d venture to say that most people participating in this . . . sport don’t speak English.”
Mitch grinned. “True. But whoever this was, he was very insistent. Would come on at strange times of the day, but mostly in the evenings. And when whoever it was couldn’t make Roy understand, he started communicating with clicks and taps.”
“Clicks and taps—like a dolphin?” Josie amended quickly. “Not that I think he’s talking to a dolphin.”
“I’m willing to bet that never occurred to him,” Mitch said. “But he’s got it in his head that he’s talking to some extraterrestrial and that the clicks and taps are some kind of code. Personally, I think he’s misinterpreting some kind of static or something. But he says there’s a regular pattern to it. He even wrote down one of the transmissions.” Mitch pawed around on the table. “Here it is.”
He held up a piece of paper that contained a series of Xs and Os, written in pencil. It was like some kind of binary code.
Josie had a nagging feeling about this. She looked up at Mitch. “Can I take this?”
He handed the paper to her. “Sure. But why?”
“I happen to know someone who’s very good at puzzles. I wonder if he’s very good at codes too.”
Evelyn, who’d been silent for a while, spoke up. “You don’t think . . .”
Mitch shook his head. “I can’t believe this didn’t occur to me. If you’re right, Eb’s really raised the bar.”
Chapter 26
On the short drive home, Josie rolled the whole thing over in her mind. The more she thought about it, the more she knew Eb was involved. She couldn’t help being a little bit impressed. This was a prank that, as Mitch said, really raised the bar. But she was also a little bit angry. Eb had gone beyond just annoying Roy. Messing with his truck or signing him up for an online dating service was one thing. Messing with a man’s head was another.
Eb’s truck was gone when she pulled in. That suited her just fine.
She was about to do some snooping.
Coco must have heard the Saab pull up because she greeted Josie at the door, twining around her feet until Josie set down her keys and bag and reached out to give her kitty some love. Coco was not the kind of animal that liked to be picked up and carried or held. But she did love to have her throat and the top of her head scratched. “Come on, girl. Let’s go get you some dinner.”
The cat followed Josie to the kitchen. Josie opened a fresh can of food and scooped a spoonful into a clean bowl, then retrieved the bowls of dry food and water from atop the refrigerator, which was the only place she’d found that Jethro couldn’t get to, and set them on the floor. When Coco had finished, Josie replaced the bowls and rinsed out the wet fo
od bowl. Coco purred contentedly and sauntered off to her small, soft bed in the corner by the window, where she did her customary few spins, then settled down for a nap.
“No time like the present,” Josie said aloud. She dried her hands, then headed for Eb’s workshop.
Her great-uncle had cleaned up the mess Josie had made on his worktable by piling everything up in one corner. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for. Some kind of radio, a transmitter, a device that could be sending signals to Roy Woodruff. Lately Eb had been adding wire curlicues to his thingamajigs, and she saw a spool of wire on the workbench. Could he be hooking that up somehow? She wished she knew more about how radio worked.
She sat back in the chair and looked up. A loose piece of wire hung more or less perpendicular to the ceiling. She followed it with her eyes. It was tacked up on the ceiling and ran all the way to the outside door, which Josie opened. The wire continued along the side of the house, then took a jog out across the yard.
And ran the full length of her clothesline, suspended about a foot above it. It ended at the pole that held up the far end of the clothesline. Josie didn’t need a ladder to know that the wire was attached to the wire coat hanger sticking up and out from the top of the pole. The wire she’d thought was one of Eb’s less artistic sculptures.
Gotcha, she thought. Now what was she going to do about it? She and Mitch had an unspoken agreement to stay out of the feud between Eb and Roy. Well, no need to make a decision yet. Mitch was keeping an eye on his grandfather, would watch to make sure he was only shaken up, not being seriously harmed. But she wasn’t going to let this go on too much longer.
Josie went back inside through the workshop door, closing it behind her. She took another look at the worktable. He could have hidden the transmitter, even taken it with him. The point seemed moot now. The wire was enough to convict him. She looked down. There was that coast guard manual that was shoring up one leg of the table. Semaphore and Morse Code.
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