Just then the waitress brought a full plate and a basket of biscuits. Carrie filled her mouth quickly so she’d be spared any need to say more about the mysterious caller.
Beth didn’t seem to notice the lack of manners, but leaned still closer and continued as if she were now revealing inside secrets known only to her. “No clues yet about who the woman caller was, though they say she made the call from the auditorium building. But Adam Yost, you know him, that tall, handsome man”—Beth stopped to giggle—“who directs publicity for Parks and Tourism, says he was out walking late last night and actually saw them carry out the body. Right then he overheard some friend of Terry—uh, no, Farris, did you say?—Teal, raising a fuss with the sheriff about a family feud, just like Hatfield and McCoy stuff, I guess. Anyway, this man, the friend of whatchamacallit Teal, was carrying on very loudly and saying awful things about Chase Mason. You see, the Masons are supposed to be on one side of the feud and Teals on the other. But Adam couldn’t explain it when I pointed out there mustn’t be too big a feud, because Chase Mason is married to a Teal!” Beth sat back and smiled, obviously waiting for Carrie to praise her insight.
Carrie swallowed a mouthful of egg. “My, my. You must be right, of course.”
Beth plunged on. “Anyway, Adam said he heard the man say that this Teal was furious at Chase Mason for something-or-other, but things never got out of hand, because everyone here is related to either Teals or Masons, including the police chief, so there were just scads of people who might get involved, and it could probably end up in an all-out Stone County war, and no one wanted that much serious trouble.”
“My, my,” Carrie said again.
“So, Teal was furious at Chase Mason for some reason or other, like I said, but he held back. Then something changed. Adam didn’t hear the man say what, but anyway, something is different now.
“Then, after Adam left and I came in here, I asked the hostess if she knew anything about it, and she said years back some Mason dog, I mean a real dog, four legs, killed some Teal chickens and when the Masons wouldn’t pay for the chickens, a man from the Teal family came with a gun to make them pay, but the Masons weren’t home, so instead he stole their hog. I know it sounds silly,” Beth said, noticing the incredulous look on Carrie’s face, “but maybe that stuff on ‘Beverly Hillbillies’ was true after all! The hostess did seem very sure of her story.
“So, anyway, after that, no one would speak to the other side, and everyone in the area began taking sides, and it went from bad to worse. I don’t know that any person has exactly been killed over it though. Well, not until now.”
“When did this chicken killing and hog stealing take place?”
“Right after the Civil War, according to the hostess.”
“Beth, that was over a hundred and forty years ago! Why on earth would it cause a murder now?”
“Well...I don’t know...”
There was silence while Carrie watched a squirrel raiding the bird feeder outside the restaurant window. An agitated titmouse bobbed up and down on the roof of the feeder, snatching an occasional seed when the squirrel paused to look around. That little bird can’t fight someone so much bigger than himself, she thought, but he’s managing to get breakfast because he takes advantage of the options open to him.
She looked back at Beth, who was busy putting Apple Chunky on Carrie’s last biscuit. “Did Adam hear the man—the friend of Farel Teal’s—say who might have killed Farel?”
“Well, no, but he must have meant Chase Mason, so I guess it doesn’t matter that he’s married to a Teal, after all. Gee, this must be hard on that poor, sweet Tracy.”
“But remember, Chase has an alibi for the whole evening.”
“Carrie, if you know something, you should tell the sheriff. Did you see something last night you haven’t told me about? How do you know Chase has an alibi?”
“Because I’m his alibi! I was with all three Masons after the show.”
“Oh.” Beth’s face drooped. “Yes. Well, then...must have been that woman who called.”
A twinge of doubt flew into Carrie’s head. Was she really sure? Well, of course she was. She’d already thought it through. Chase and his mother had been together, and Tracy was just too tiny to have killed her cousin.
She asked another question. “Has anyone said anything about what the sheriff is doing? Did they find fingerprints?”
Beth looked sulky. “No one said anything about fingerprints, but then, the sheriff isn’t reporting to me.”
“Anything else you heard?”
Beth suddenly remembered more gossip, and she brightened. “Well! The hostess said there are several Masons in and around Mountain View who could be suspects, including Chase’s two uncles and their families, and most of them are musical in some way. They take part in performances over at the auditorium, so there were Masons here during rehearsals last night. There are plenty of suspects to choose from if it can’t be Chase Mason.”
“But, Beth, I think there has to be more of a reason than a hog that was stolen over a hundred years ago... or even a hog that was stolen yesterday.”
“Can’t tell about these hillbillies.”
Carrie humphed in exasperation and said aloud, as much to herself as Beth, “The Masons I met may have a few different ways, but they aren’t killers.”
“You know as well as I do, Carrie, that nice-seeming people can be murderers.”
Carrie stared out the window again. Yes, she did know that, all too well, and Beth had no idea how much knowing it could hurt.
The twinge of doubt wouldn’t go away. After all, she had just met the Masons last night and certainly sensed a lot of unhappiness hidden behind Chase and Tracy’s performance smiles. She was betting its cause was much older than the recent kidnapping of their daughter, so...maybe a feud...
“Something else I just remembered, Carrie. I overheard the waitress who was helping the people at that table in back of us tell them she was a Teal relation, and she thinks music is what caused the murder. They asked her to say more, but she wouldn’t.”
Carrie didn’t reply, but she was thinking, music? And Ben Yokum had said someone was a “bad un.” Who had he been talking about? Had he meant Chase Mason—or Farel Teal?
Beth picked up her purse. “Well, I’d better get on the road. Call me as soon as you get back home and tell me all the latest news about this. Promise to pay attention, now, and get all the details you can. Since Henry knows about cop stuff, I bet he’ll find out even more than you do!”
“I promise to pay attention, and I know Henry will too,” Carrie said.
Beth looked down at her bill. “I owe $6.50. How much tip should I leave?”
Chapter IX
After Beth left, Carrie sat quietly, glad to be alone at the table. She was looking through the restaurant’s window wall into the hilltop forest, but her mind wasn’t conscious of landscape. Instead, she was thinking of words from the third chapter of Proverbs: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
It was hard to sit still, waiting for direction. Everything inside her wanted to be up and moving, taking action. Henry would be here this afternoon, and she hoped to have a progress report ready for him by then.
Once, when talking about police work, Henry had told her a well-thought-out action plan was of primary importance in any investigation, and the action plan must begin with clear thinking. After he’d explained this to her, she’d added something to his formula—prayer and listening for God’s direction. Right now, though, she had to admit sitting and thinking, even praying, felt a lot like doing nothing.
Last November Henry had also told her that painstaking research was at least fifty percent of police work, and the other half was paper work. He’d smiled down at her then, and she’d wondered a bit about the paper work, but, if police work was like other professions, well, of course there would be a lot of p
aper work.
Last November. That was when she and Henry had faced life-threatening danger together. And, sadly, clearer thinking on her part would have kept them out of danger, though Henry never said anything about that. He didn’t have to. Every time she saw the scar on his forehead, she remembered...
She lifted her chin. There was no point dwelling on regrets. After all, the real result of last November had been their friendship. And, probably because of that friendship, Henry had continued talking to her about detective work, had even said that, if he were still a police officer, he’d welcome her as his partner.
Carrie had known he meant it. The dear man was incapable of lying about anything that mattered. She’d wondered if strict veracity had ever hampered his police work. Probably not, because he’d reached the top rank in his division before retiring.
So, for whatever reason, after last November he’d continued sharing information about the science and art of crime solving with her. She’d decided he was doing it partly for her entertainment, but also because he knew many of the skills he talked about were helpful in everyday life. She supposed by then he’d come to know her well enough to realize that logical thinking, an ability to grasp details, and patience had never been Carrie Culpeper McCrite’s strong points.
But now, after several minutes of quiet reflection, Carrie was ready. It was time for action.
Pushing aside her reflective mood, she stood and went to pay the bill. She asked the cashier if the craft grounds had opened this morning as scheduled and received an affirmative answer. Good. She could get in the area for a very careful look-around, and.... who knew what she might overhear if she was quiet, unobtrusive, and listened carefully? She was still way behind Henry in the organized mind department, but could at least prove to him that she’d paid attention to what he’d said, even though they’d both thought his tutoring would be applied in her work and her life at home, rather than to any continued crime solving.
Carrie left the restaurant and headed downhill toward her room. The first thing on her action list was a call to Brigid Mason.
The number was easy to find in the Mountain View phone book, and Brigid answered before the first ring was finished.
“Brigid, it’s Carrie, I...”
“Carrie! Thank goodness it’s you. I’ve been lookin’ for your call.”
“How are all of you doing? Is there any news?”
In answer, words from the other end of the line began tumbling out in Brigid’s colorful language, her voice dropping so low that they were doubly difficult to understand.
“Law, yes, ’least I guess you’d say it’s news. This phone’s been ringin’ off the wall. That dang Bobbie Lee Logan can’t keep his mouth shut. He was Farel’s best friend and now he’s jes spilling his innards all over the place. He doesn’t care who-all he hurts. He’s gone and tol’ the sheriff a bunch of lies, ’n’ he’s even hintin’ that Dulcey is really Farel’s daughter, of all the hurtful things, ’n’ some folks prob’ly believe him, too. So far I’ve kep Chase and Tracy from hearin’ what’s goin’ on, but somehow I gotta get ’em away from here. Ever’one knows where I live. It’s too dang open to the public.”
Brigid stopped to take a breath, but before Carrie could comment, she went on. “What if reporters find out what Bobby Lee is sayin’? It’ll be in those big black headlines at all the grocery checkouts in the country.
“The sheriff’s been here. He stayed pretty gentle ’n’ didn’t say too much, jes asked about what we did all the time last night. Tracy stayed in bed, ’n’ Chase ’n’ me never let on that she had found Farel, ’n’ he never asked, so we didn’t lie neither. But now that Bobby Lee is raising such a fuss, I don’t know. I tol’ the sheriff that Tracy wasn’t well—grievin’ for her cousin—and Dulcey was sick, and both of ’em was asleep, and so far he’s inclined to leave that alone.”
Brigid paused again before asking, “Has he talked to you yet? I tol’ him you was with us, sorta like our hostess.”
“I haven’t heard from him,” said Carrie. “Have you heard from the kidnappers?”
“Nope, nary a word, but that note did say t’night. I got my brother’s grandson to go look in the bird box as if he was just playin’, and he sez it’s empty. Box opens at the side ’n’ Tommy sez all that’s inside is a few dead wasps.”
‘Did you get any sleep?”
“Oh, I dozed, but mosta the time I was watchin’ over one or t’other of the kids. An’ since dawn ever-body ’n’ his cousin’s been calling sayin’ they wanted to he’p, but most of ’em’s jes curious, if truth be known. It makes me wild.”
“Brigid, can’t someone come to be with you? Glory, I wish I had a car right now.”
Carrie was thinking she sure would be glad when Henry—and his car—arrived.
“Oh, yeah, my two brothers and their wives ’n’ some other kin who don’t hafta to be at work or school are here, sorta hangin’ around to discourage company.
“I had to tell my family about Dulcey. Well, they wanted to go out right then and beat the woods in ever’ direction from Farel’s house, but how’d we know that would do any good? It’s too much space to cover without us knowing somethin’ particular, but Carrie, there is the Culpepers...”
“Yes, I haven’t forgotten, and I have a plan about them.”
There was a silence, then Brigid said, “Oh me, now I kin see another TV truck out there. Law, Carrie, what next? Stuff’s gonna bust out all over the place. Wish I could ship Chase and Tracy to the moon, I can’t hold off the whole dang world much longer. Famous is fine when things go good, but let somethin’ bad happen and all tarnation breaks loose. Famous ain’t so fine then. Folks’re likely to find out Dulcey’s gone any time and... what then...?
“Tracy now, she cried a lot durin’ the night, and Chase, he paced the floor. Tracy’s gone to sleep at last, but Chase is still pacin’. If Tracy stays asleep I’m gonna let Nell or Sarah answer this phone and rest a bit myself.”
Carrie’s thoughts were forming rapidly and clearly now. “Brigid, can you trust your family? They’ll keep secrets?”
Brigid snorted. “O’ course. That’s part of bein’ family, ain’t it?”
“Then I have an idea we might try. I think I can get Chase and Tracy out of there and hide them here at the Folk Center, though I can’t make my plan work until this afternoon. Will they come back here if I promise to hide them? And how much can you change their looks? I’ll send one set of different clothing for each of them...older, heavier people’s clothing, but perhaps you could find jackets and another change of clothing around there, something in older styles they’d never wear. Maybe a change of hair style or color too—whatever you can manage. Here’s what I have in mind...”
Brigid interrupted. “The Folk Center? How’s that gonna work? Why, they’d be right in the midst o’ things. It’s hardly gettin’ ’em away.”
“You know they won’t go far away until Dulcey’s found. And who would ever think they’d be here? They should be willing to come here because it is near all that’s going on and nearest where we’ll find out something about Dulcey. And,” she added gently, “you need rest too. If they’re gone, maybe the reporters will leave you alone.
“Think about it, then ask them if they’ll come. I have friends arriving this afternoon, and they have room reservations. No one here knows what my friends look like. Some of them can double up with me, and we’ll put Chase and Tracy in one of the rooms under my friends’ names—that is if they’re willing to stay out of sight. We can bring in food and tell the housekeeping staff not to bother with the room.”
“Well... mebbe... guess it could work. They might be willin’, ’n’ you’re right, they’d never go away while Dulcey’s missin’.”
There was a pause, then Brigid said, “Yes, they’ll come. I’ll see to it. Prob’ly all I’ll have to do is show ’em the reporters gettin’ thick around here. But, how’re we gonna get ’em there, even with a disguise? Oh...wait a minnit...
”
The phone dropped, then Carrie heard Brigid’s voice from a distance: “Nell, you go stop ’em! Herb’s gonna shove that fella with the TV camera...you go on out there ’n’ yell at the both of ’em.”
The voice came close again. “Gotta go, Carrie. No tellin’ what Herb might do. Call me back in a coupla hours. If you can’t get in on the phone, do ya mind to keep tryin’? ’N’, well, th-thanks for all this.” Brigid Mason’s voice wavered and, at last, she stopped talking.
“I want to help, and don’t worry, I’ll keep calling until I get you.”
Carrie put the phone down. She felt a bit like pacing the floor herself. First she had involved Henry in this mess, and now she was planning to do the same to Eleanor and Jason. But what choice did she have? The Masons needed all the help the four of them could give.
She looked at the clock. Eleven. Henry had said he’d arrive by early afternoon, so there was time for the next part in her action plan, a thorough look around the craft grounds.
She put on old jeans and a grey sweatshirt. After glancing in the mirror at her flying grey curls, she found a scarf she often tied at the neck of her blue dress and put it on her head. She wanted to appear as plain and unnoticeable as possible, and the hats she had with her didn’t fit with plain and unnoticeable at all.
She put on the park department badge that would let her into the craft area without paying, then took it off and dropped it back on the table. It had her name on it, and she’d stand out because almost everyone from the convention was now headed home.
When Carrie arrived at the administration building, it was alive with activity. Workers were setting up for the classes that would begin tomorrow morning, and the desk attendant was busy telling a bearded man in overalls where the woodcarver’s equipment should be put. The attendant reached for Carrie’s entrance fee and stamped the back of her hand without looking away from the workman. Carrie walked out the door quietly, grateful for anonymity.
There were a number of tourists on the concrete walkways in the craft area, but, other than two people trying to see in the windows of the darkened dressmaker’s shop, no one acted as if they were aware of the murder; or at least they weren’t letting it disturb the planned routine for opening day. Probably most of the people here had just arrived for the weekend and had no idea what had happened last night. Since it looked like all the craft shops other than the dressmaker’s were open, tourists would take little notice of one shop that was locked.
Music to Die For Page 8