“I am.” Mr. Penberthy got to his feet. He wore buckskin pants, a filthy red flannel shirt, and moccasins. He looked puzzled but pulled his shapeless hat respectfully from his head.
“I was passing your shelter this afternoon and met Ida—who did not step outside, as you’d instructed her. I’d be happy to watch her when you’re working.”
Mr. Penberthy looked startled. “You would?”
“Our camp’s naught but a five-minute walk from here. You could bring her by in the morning and pick her up when you’re through with work for the day.”
“Now, why would you be making such an offer?”
“Because that’s what neighbors do. And because I would enjoy Ida’s company.”
Mr. Penberthy’s fingers were tight on his hat brim. “I’ll allow, it’s no good for her to be here alone. But I can’t take her into the mine with me, now can I.”
“Of course not,” Mary said gently. “You’re obviously doing the best you can in a difficult situation.”
Mr. Penberthy looked down at Ida, who was listening with owl eyes. “Would you like to visit with this lady while I’m down in the mine?”
Ida grabbed the leather of her father’s trousers. But she nodded.
Mary blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and smiled.
Thirteen
At the breakfast table, Tamsin eyed Chloe over her cup of steaming tea. “I do hope you’ve recovered from your mishap.”
The words were solicitous, but Chloe didn’t miss the faint hint of once-a-mom, always-a-mom censure. “Again, I’m so sorry I worried you,” she said earnestly.
“Are you coming down with something? After getting soaked, I wouldn’t wonder.”
“I’m just tired.” Chloe had spent much of the night wondering who had left her the nasty note. Who was that angry, and that cowardly.
“I don’t think it was wise to go for a stroll in the woods when the storm was threatening, dear,” Tamsin said. “You might have—” Her voice broke when someone knocked on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Chloe scrambled to her feet, willing to defer learning what additional calamities might have befallen her.
When she opened the door, Investigator Higgins stepped inside. “Good morning, Ms. Ellefson,” he said. “Miss Tamsin, I hope it’s not too early to come by.” He snatched his hat from his head. Chloe wondered if Tamsin had taught him in third grade too.
“Not at all,” Tamsin said. “Would you like a saffron bun?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no,” Higgins admitted. He took a seat. Chloe got him a plate from the cupboard before taking her own chair again.
He sampled his bun and smiled appreciatively. “Delicious. Now. I wanted to let you know that we have not been able to find any link between the remains and an open criminal investigation.”
“Do you know how old the bones are?” Chloe asked.
“I hate to hypothesize before we get the official report. I can say that unembalmed bodies buried without a coffin take about eight to twelve years to decompose to a skeleton. Although I didn’t touch the bones, they looked dry. Sort of crumbly. And the smell—”
“I’ll get more coffee,” Tamsin announced, and marched into the kitchen.
Looking apologetic, Higgins lowered his voice. “There was no smell. All I smelled was earth. It was an old burial.”
An old burial, Chloe thought. That narrowed things right down.
“One of the crime scene guys speculated that the victim was an adult male, older than thirty-five.” Higgins reached for the butter dish. “We also found some broken china among the bones.”
“Right among the bones?” Chloe sipped her orange juice, thinking that through. “What did the china look like?”
“It’s just small pieces. White and dark blue.”
Chloe sucked in her lower lip. Blue Willow, maybe? “May I see the shards?”
He looked startled. “I’m afraid not. They could become evidentiary, and so will remain in police custody until the case is closed.” He drummed his fingertips on the tablecloth much the way Roelke often did. “And you have to understand, this is a very cold case. I can request an agent from the crime lab to help with the investigation, but given the age of the remains, it won’t be a high priority. Even if the lab could spare someone, it’s unlikely that person would be trained to do the kind of research we need.”
Tamsin returned with the coffee pot just in time to hear that. “Chloe’s already looking into the death. She’s trained.”
Chloe squirmed. “In history. Not—not forensics or anything.”
Higgins gave her a long look. “Well, let me know if you discover anything.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin and got to his feet. “Thank you, Miss Tamsin.”
Chloe fiddled with a spoon. She was curious about the china shards found with the skeleton, but it seemed unlikely she’d ever get to see them. Had Investigator Higgins taken everything that Adam had found into custody? She understood the need, but still, that was unfortunate.
Suddenly she remembered the sticking tommy she’d borrowed from Adam before the skeleton was found. She wanted to see if there was anything like it in the Pendarvis collection. It was a shame to see that disappear into police custody forever.
Roelke’s stern voice was almost audible inside her head: Turn it over to the investigator.
Chloe tried to tune him out. It really would be nice to identify the blacksmith who’d made the piece. Artifacts mattered, and there was power in matching object with creator. It was respectful—a way of saying What you did was important to the long-gone craftsman. Each connection made added another piece to the ongoing research puzzle of mining days in Mineral Point.
I’ll turn the sticking tommy in as soon as I check records for evidence of the maker, Chloe decided, and felt only a little guilty.
Roelke waited to call until Marie was on the phone and he knew Libby was home from taking the kids to school. “Hey, it’s me,” he said when Libby answered. “Everything okay?”
Libby hesitated. “Well … ”
Roelke sat up straighter. “What happened?”
“When I opened the front door this morning, there was a yellow rose lying on the welcome mat.” Libby’s voice was tight.
“Aren’t yellow roses—”
“Yes. My favorite flower. Were. I carried them in my wedding.”
Roelke cursed under his breath. So much for Dan Raymo de-escalating. “Anything else?”
“No. But it makes me sick to know that Dan was here again.”
It made Roelke sick too. He drummed the desk with an unhappy thumb. “He’s trying to get a rise out of you. Chances are good he’ll get tired of playing these games if he doesn’t get rewarded with a reaction.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “But Libby—please call the Palmyra police and tell them what’s been going on. They’ll write a report. If Raymo doesn’t settle down it might be good to have some documentation.”
“I feel like such a girly-girl,” Libby muttered. “I’m capable of taking care of myself, Roelke.”
He pressed a thumb to his forehead and closed his eyes. “I know you are. But as you said, the kids are involved … ”
“Oh, all right. I’ll call the cops.”
After hanging up, Roelke sat brooding. There had to be something he could do. He felt twitchy with the need to confront Raymo. The SOB may not have threatened Libby, but he was harassing her.
Chief Naborski’s voice rang in his memory: You’re a good cop, Roelke. But if you want this one you gotta fly straight. Do you understand me?
It’s just my luck, Roelke thought darkly, that Raymo starts acting up again right when I’ve got this training opportunity on the horizon. When Chief and Dorothy Blevins and the rest of the Village Board’s Police Committee were watching him. When Chloe
’s maniacal boss Ralph Petty was, for all Roelke knew, trying to set him up.
Roelke desperately wanted to be a good cop. He’d been working hard on standing straight, keeping his anger in check in even the worst situations. But this mess with Raymo was personal. That made things a whole lot harder.
As she walked to Pendarvis that morning Chloe stewed about the note she’d found in her totebag. The day before, worries had disappeared for a few hours as she and Claudia made plans to improve collections storage and care. Now, trouble loomed large again. Chloe wasn’t sure how she’d look anyone in the eye without wondering, Was it you? Was it you?
She also wasn’t sure what to do about the note. She knew Roelke would tell her to report it to the cops. At the very least, she should show the damn thing to Claudia and Loren.
All I wanted, Chloe reminded the cosmos as she turned onto Shake Rag Street, was a pleasant week. Time away from her micromanaging, ever-critical boss. Time to boost her professional confidence. Seriously, it didn’t seem so much to ask.
Investigator Higgins’s breakfast visit had made her a little tardy. She hurried into the office at eight fifteen with an explanation for Claudia at the ready, but Evelyn was alone. “Good morning,” Chloe told the receptionist. She tried to picture this patrician, gracious woman slipping a nasty note into her totebag. Ludicrous, Chloe thought, and felt a little better.
“Good morning.” The older woman’s voice was tight.
“Evelyn? Is everything alright?”
“It’s these calls!” She grabbed a fistful of message slips. “I came in early to get organized, and a reporter called at seven forty-five. He wanted to know how it felt to hear that Pendarvis was closing.”
“So much for the facts,” Chloe said sympathetically.
“I just hung up from a woman who wanted to know if our artifacts would go up for sale if the site closed, and if there was a way she could get a preemptive bid in on the portrait in Pendarvis House.”
“No, there isn’t,” Chloe said—a bit tartly, because she liked that particular painting a lot, and it wasn’t going anywhere. She tried to lighten her tone. “Want me to answer the phone for a while? I won’t mention my employment status to callers.”
“Thanks, but no.” Evelyn managed a shaky smile. “I promised Claudia I’d help with all this, and I will.”
“Speaking of Claudia, do you know where she is?”
“She was here earlier. Dr. Miller was here too—”
“That woman is a serious pest,” Chloe murmured.
“Dr. Miller said Loren had given her permission to go into Polperro House. He and Gerald are over on Dark Hill, so Claudia went with her. I haven’t seen her since. Winter was here a few minutes ago, looking for her.”
“Winter? Winter the potter?”
“She wanted to show Claudia a prototype for some reproductions they’ve talked about. She said she’d come back another time.” The phone rang, and Evelyn picked up the receiver. “Good morning. Pendarvis Historic Site.”
Chloe glanced at the clock. The day was already skidding off the rails, and the site hadn’t even opened yet.
Roelke had studied for the Police Committee interview. He had Wisconsin drug law down cold, and he’d thought carefully about responses to expected questions. But the interview felt perfunctory, and the questions were simplistic: What do you like about serving the Village of Eagle? Why do you want to take the specialized training? How will it help you perform your duties? He walked out of the town hall, where the meeting had taken place, with no idea if he’d satisfied the committee or not.
Back at the Eagle PD, Chief Naborski beckoned Roelke into his office. “I saw your report. Tell me about Michelle Zietz.”
Roelke was glad enough to forget the Police Committee altogether. He summarized his arrest.
Chief Naborski listened without interruption. “Well done. You’re confident this young woman will perform as a CI?”
“I believe she will. She lives with her parents, is counting on financial aid to get through college … she’s highly motivated.”
The older man tipped his chair backward. “What’s your plan?”
This was one of the things Roelke appreciated about Chief Naborski—when it was warranted, he let his officers run with things, instead of micromanaging. It occurred to Roelke for the first time that the timing of this investigation couldn’t be better—if all went well, this would be a big bust for the EPD. Assuming everything wound through the courts successfully, the department would eventually get half of whatever drug money was siezed. That could only impress the Police Committee.
Roelke tried to sit a little straighter. “I’ll have Zietz make three buys. That way we’ll establish a pattern, and the dealers can’t claim they only sold once to pay grandma’s medical bills or something. I’ll beg the money from the village board president.”
Chief nodded.
“If all goes according to plan, I’ll request a search warrant after the second buy in anticipation of the third. Once Zietz confirms that third buy we’ll hit the house. We’ll need all our guys and then some. I’ll request mutual aid from Palmyra and Mukwonago.”
“This is all very promising, Officer McKenna,” Chief said. “Make it happen.”
Chloe tried to think where Claudia might be. Maybe she’d gone to greet the interpretive staff.
In the gift shop she found Rita, the recent college grad, talking to Audrey, who sold tickets and souvenirs. Gerald joined them, already muddy and sweat-stained. Was it one of you? Chloe asked silently. Her gaze lingered on Gerald. “How’s the badger hole coming?”
Gerald scowled. “Some kids were messing around in there.”
“Kids will be kids,” Chloe said blithely, hoping no one had happened to notice her emerging from the woods in the downpour yesterday evening. She excavated Adam’s sticking tommy from her bag, and unwrapped the towel.
Gerald’s scowl deepened. “Is that from our collection?”
“No, Gerald. If it was, I assure you I wouldn’t be wandering around with it clutched in my hot little hand. It belongs to a friend and I hope to identify the maker. Does this decorative work look familiar?”
He barely glanced at the artifact. “Nope.”
She slipped it away again. “Has anyone seen Claudia?”
No one had. “But we’ve already got the tour schedule,” Rita said. “It’s going to be a very busy day.”
Well, Chloe thought, maybe I’ll find her in Polperro House. Claudia might have been unwilling to leave Dr. Miller alone in the historic home. She was probably standing sentinel, impatiently waiting for Miller to look at whatever she’d come to see. Awk-ward.
Chloe left the front line staff to start their day. When she reached Polperro she found the door to the lower floor unlocked. “Hello?” she called. No answer.
She wanted to compare Adam’s sticking tommy with the ones on display while she was here, and so headed for the second room. None of the workmanship suggested the same maker. Oh, well. So far she and Claudia hadn’t found any additional candleholders in storage, but Loren might recognize the workmanship in Adam’s piece.
Instead of retracing her steps, Chloe decided to go upstairs and get a better look at the kitchen and living quarters she’d only glimpsed earlier. She opened the door to the staircase leading to the second story …
And the body of Dr. Yvonne Miller, Ph.D., tumbled down the last step and landed on Chloe’s feet.
Fourteen
Chloe leapt backwards with a wordless squawk. Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. The woman lay in a most unscholarly crumple at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes were open but vacant. One arm was flung high. Her knees were bent. One shoe—a well-polished loafer—lay lonely on a step halfway to the second floor. Her large briefcase had landed on its side.
Something hot and sour rose i
n Chloe’s throat. She pressed one hand against her belly and took several deep breaths. Then she approached the body and went through the motions of looking for a pulse.
But she knew it was too late. Yvonne Miller was dead.
Chloe whirled and raced outside. She spotted a man repairing a plank on the walkway and swerved to meet him. “Call 911,” Chloe gasped. “There’s been a terrible accident in Polperro House.” The maintenance man left his toolbox and took off toward the row house.
When she turned back, Gerald was leading twenty or so school kids toward Polperro. She cut him off. “You can’t go in there—someone’s hurt—”
Gerald turned to his charges. “How would you like to learn some games kids played a hundred and forty years ago?” The children cheered, and Gerald shepherded them away.
Chloe was pacing in the yard outside Polperro House when she heard sirens. A truck emblazoned with Mineral Point Rescue Squad arrived first, followed by a police car. She felt an overwhelming desire to see Roelke McKenna jump out, uniformed and ready to take charge.
Investigator Higgins emerged instead. He trotted toward her with the EMTs on his heels. “Ms. Ellefson? What happened?”
“Dr. Miller—she’s in there.” Chloe led them into Polperro and pointed. “That door to the stairway was closed when I came into the building. When I opened it, she just … sort of … fell out.”
Chloe retreated outside just as Loren Beskeen, once again in period clothes, jogged from the woods on Dark Hill. He must have heard the sirens. When he got within earshot he demanded, “What’s happened?”
“There’s been an accident. Dr. Miller fell down the stairs in Polperro House.”
His jaw went slack. “Is she badly hurt?”
Chloe hesitated, but there was no help for it. “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure she’s dead. The EMTs are inside with her now, and Investigator Higgins.”
Loren looked stunned. “Dear God.”
Investigator Higgins emerged from Polperro and joined them. “I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Beskeen—”
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