Music to Die For

by Radine Trees Nehring

  “A piece of ribbon? It’s a girl’s hair ribbon, isn’t it? Is it Dulcey’s?” Now Jason was leaning forward in the rocker.

  Carrie didn’t dare look at Henry. She couldn’t believe she’d been dumb enough to take Dulcey’s hair bow out of her pocket. Now they’d have to trust Jason and Eleanor with more of the story than they’d planned. Otherwise, how could they explain the ribbon?

  “So you did find out something?” Jason asked. “Good news?”

  Carrie only nodded and stared at the quilt on her bed so, after a moment of silence, Henry began to give Jason an abridged version of their afternoon’s adventure.

  She sat there, feeling incredibly stupid and wondering what poor Henry would say when he got to the part of the story where the presence of the hair ribbon must be explained.

  Henry was just finishing—“And then, when Carrie and I were on the path coming back here, we saw that hair bow”—when the phone rang.

  By golly, he did the whole story without a single lie, Carrie thought as Henry reached for the phone.

  She watched him put the receiver against his ear. His hair was getting just long enough to wave over the tops of his ears. The hair was lighter there...like pure silver. She wondered what it would be like to touch his hair, to smooth the waves behind his ears...

  With a start, she realized Henry was talking to her. He had his hand over the receiver’s mouthpiece. “Sheriff,” he repeated, speaking softly. “Wants to know if you’re here. I think you’d better talk to him now.”

  “I can’t! What would I say? I’m not as good at not lying as you are... that is, I don’t want to tell him about Dulcey... what if he asks questions I can’t answer without lying? You can’t lie to a sheriff. What if he asks something about Chase and Tracy? Henry, I can’t talk to him yet.”

  Henry smiled at her. “Yes, you can. I’m sure you won’t have to say anything difficult about Dulcey or her parents. Sheriff Wylie has no idea you’ve talked with the Masons since last night, and I doubt he knows anything about the kidnapping. Even if he does, he probably won’t be any more inclined to discuss it than you are. It’s Farel’s murder he’s concerned with. Here. Talk to him.” He held out the receiver.

  So she had no choice. “This is Carrie McCrite,” she said.

  It began easily enough. The sheriff asked her to confirm that she had been with the Masons after the show the night before. Omitting the fact that she had not been with Tracy every moment following the performance, she answered his questions easily. He asked no questions about the dressmaker’s shop, and she didn’t mention that she and Tracy had been there.

  He also said nothing about Dulcey or about the fire at Farel’s house. Henry was right; this was going to be all right.

  Then the drawling voice said, “I understand you got into some kind of a tussle last night.”

  “I...what?”

  “Tussle. Mebbe tore your dress? Got dirty? Scratched your cheek? How’d all that happen?”

  “Oh. Well, I...well, there certainly was no tussle. I tripped and fell when I was walking through the craft area.” She started to say the lights had been off, and then paused. She didn’t have any idea when the security lights had gone out. The man was pretty sharp. He might know the answer already. She didn’t. And had he seen the imprint of her fall in that square of garden? It wasn’t near any path, so what would she have been doing there?

  Had Bobby Lee Logan been the one who told the sheriff how she looked? What else had Bobby Lee said? She could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. Could Sheriff Wylie think she had something to do with Farel’s death?

  “It was shadowy. I missed my footing, that’s all.”

  “Ah, yes.”

  Now she spoke quickly, hoping to change the subject. “Sheriff Wylie, I’m with Parks and Tourism as I’m sure you know. We’re very concerned. Everyone is talking about the murder, and they’re saying all sorts of things, mostly gossip, I assume. But we don’t want this to mar the opening of the season here... don’t want the tourists disturbed. I know you’re keeping this as quiet as you can, but are you making any progress? Did you find fingerprints or something that could help? Any prospect of an arrest?”

  Henry and Jason were both staring at her—in admiration, she hoped. After all, she hadn’t lied. She just hoped the sheriff didn’t know her job with Parks and Tourism was managing a highway information center in the far northwest corner of the state.

  “Yes, ma’am, I understand. We’re concerned too, and we’ve been workin’ very hard. No one here got more than two, three hours’ sleep last night. And fingerprints prob’ly won’t be much help. Of course we have samples from all who are regularly in that shop, and Farel Teal’s were on one of the display cases. But it’s a public place, lots of tourists as well as workers, so all we can do is identify folks here, that’s about it.”

  “I see.”

  “But, now that you confirm the Masons’ alibi, our list of suspects has narrowed a bit.”

  “So you do have other suspects?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Henry and Jason were still staring, their faces carefully blank.

  “How awful this must be for you, Sheriff Wylie. I’ll bet you know all the people here at the Folk Center and in town. You’ll probably know the killer, won’t you? We heard about the scissors. Tell me, what kind of person would use scissors to kill someone? Must have been a spur-of-the minute thing since, I assume, the scissors came from inside the shop.”

  Her pounding pulse was slowing down. She tried to make her tone of voice say she was full of admiration for this big, strong male who was going to solve a terrible crime. She decided to ignore Henry’s waving hand and whispered warning, “You’re going too far.”

  After all, Henry was male too.

  “Well, now, off the record, twasn’t scissors did the killin’.” She could imagine the sheriff puffing his chest out. “The killer just wanted us to think it was scissors. But, figurin’ he...or she...didn’t want us to know what the real weapon was, well, that in itself is a big help.

  “Now, Miz McCrite, I can’t say more than that, except don’t worry. We’ll catch the killer, and, in the meantime, we’re keepin’ things as quiet as we can so as not to bother the tourists. Since the famous ones, the Masons, are out of it, that will be easier.”

  “Were there fingerprints on the scissors?”

  He hesitated, said, “No,” and ended her questions by closing the conversation. “I thank you for your cooperation. I understand you’ll be here through the weekend?”

  “Yes, Sheriff, I will.”

  “Good, then. That’s all I need for now. Thanks again.”

  She put the receiver down and said, “I’m willing to bet Bobby Lee Logan is his prime suspect. The sheriff did figure out the scissors weren’t the murder weapon. There were lots of fingerprints everywhere because of the tourists and workers who have been in the place. They found Farel’s on one of the display cases. There were no fingerprints on the scissors, as we already guessed.

  “He didn’t mention that the inside door knob and light switch had no fingerprints, but I know they didn’t. I wiped those off myself. Tracy or I could have had fingerprints there, and I figured the killer didn’t, since he left the door open and was probably the one who had put all the lights out of commission before he came to the shop. He would have known there was no reason to touch a light switch.”

  “Dangerous to surmise and wrong to destroy evidence,” Henry said, then held up his hands as she started to speak. “I know, I know, couldn’t help it since one or both of you had touched them. Actually I’m glad you remembered. I have no doubt you recall that I once left my fingerprints at a crime scene and, as a result, was almost arrested for murder.”

  He looked at his watch. “It’s about time for supper. We’d better get something to eat and head toward the gift shop area to keep watch on that bird house.”

  Carrie changed back into her jeans and sweatshirt and went to sit with Elea
nor while Henry and Jason drove into town for hamburgers. “Better bring six, no... maybe seven, with slaw, beans, and fries, as well as drinks,” instructed Eleanor. “A couple of cold sandwiches too, in case Tracy stays asleep for a while. And, don’t forget the ketchup.

  “I won’t wake Chase until you come back, and I hope Tracy just keeps sleeping. I can stay with her while you go to see about the ransom note. I don’t care if she screams like a cat at being left out. I wouldn’t wake her for anything.”

  Eleanor had shut both doors between the two bedrooms so the four of them could talk freely, and after the men left, she told Carrie she had called Brigid Mason as soon as Chase and Tracy fell asleep.

  “I wanted to tell her we arrived here without any problems and that both of them were sleeping. She said it was a good thing we got away when we did. Not many minutes later a reporter from the Little Rock daily and two television reporters complete with cameras came to the door. They insisted on an interview with Chase Mason and Tracy Teal. Brigid was glad she could say in all honesty that they weren’t there. She told the reporters they had gone away to rest for a few days before returning to Branson and would speak with reporters when they were back home. She says since then the crowd outside her house has thinned considerably. She’s heard no more from the sheriff. I promised I’d call her after you picked up the note, no matter how late it is.

  “Now, tell me all about your trip to the Culpepers’.”

  Carrie rose from her rocking chair and headed for the bathroom. “In a minute. First, while the men are gone, think I’ll take a trip in here.”

  When she returned, Eleanor was knitting. She’d turned both rocking chairs around to face the windows that overlooked the forest. Nice, Carrie thought, much better than facing the door to the adjoining bedroom.

  After they were settled, Carrie told Eleanor about some of their unusual experiences at the Culpepers’, though she left out any mention of Tracy’s relationship to the family, just as Henry had left it out of his account to Jason. She explained the plans for a rendezvous to pick up the child at Nahum’s cabin that very night, while Eleanor’s murmured comments, “How wonderful,” and, “Thank God,” blended softly under and around her story.

  “But it isn’t the time to talk about this to Chase or Tracy yet,” Carrie cautioned. “We want to be sure we have the child safely back here before anyone but the four of us knows. We can’t risk any awkward intrusion. Since Margaret Culpeper made all the plans and knows where everyone in her family will be, she’s really the one in charge. We don’t want to spoil anything, and, to be honest, I’m not sure Chase or Tracy can be trusted to keep cool heads now.”

  “Well, goodness knows I couldn’t if it were one of our children,” Eleanor said, “so, hard as it is, I agree it has to be secret until it’s all over, safely over.”

  Then she said, “Carrie, let’s be quiet for a minute. I want to pray.”

  “Me too,” said Carrie, closing her eyes.

  For quite a while after that they remained silent. The only sounds in the room were the squeak of the rocking chair as Carrie’s foot pushed it back and forth, and the swish and click of Eleanor’s knitting needles, completing the last rows of a sweater for one of her grandchildren. Once Carrie thought she heard the creak of the door behind them, but, when she looked around, the door was closed.

  Finally she said, “Eleanor, do you think it’s possible that Chase really isn’t Dulcey’s father and that he knows it?”

  “Mmmm, maybe. Guess that could explain his odd behavior and the fact that, in the conversation you overheard, it sounded like he was more concerned over losing a performer than losing his child. But you said Tracy talked as if the original kidnapping of the child by Farel was no big concern, and Chase was the one who wanted to take some action right away. Neither of them has reacted in what I’d call a normal manner. Would you feel as Tracy did if you were in her place?”

  “No, I would not. If even a close family member had taken Rob without my permission, I’d have been furious... and frantic.”

  “So would I,” said Eleanor. “So, what if Tracy knew about that first kidnapping, maybe even helped arrange it, to... to... perhaps to make it easy for her cousin to extort money from her husband?”

  “Ugh, when you put it that way, it sounds awful, but it sure fits with the part of the Masons’ conversation that I overheard. And if that is the case, then Tracy could be feeling a double load of guilt right now. Obviously the scheme backfired in a terrible way.”

  “Indeed it did,” Eleanor said. “Let’s see, we can imagine she promised Dulcey a good time spending the night with Cousin Farel, but it was to be a secret from Daddy. That would explain her initial lack of concern. She thought Dulcey would be perfectly safe, having a good time, in fact. And, you said all three Masons seemed to accept the idea that Farel needed money to get out of town. Bobby Lee confirmed that, didn’t he, though he said Farel just wanted money for his song? So which is it? Money for ransom? Or money for a song?”

  Carrie shook her head. “Both? Maybe Farel was going to tell Chase and Tracy later that Dulcey wouldn’t be returned unless they admitted they did not write their theme song and agreed to pay him royalty for it. I don’t suppose Tracy knew anything about that part of it, if indeed that was his real plan. After all, the story about a stolen song would hurt her career as much as Chase’s.”

  And, Carrie was thinking, Farel didn’t write that song either. Tracy’s birth mother, Elizabeth Culpeper, wrote it. I suppose Farel heard Margaret playing and singing in the woods when he was a boy. However he heard the music, he always knew it wasn’t his, though I don’t suppose he told Bobby Lee that. He may have also realized that it was the Culpepers’ sister who wrote the song he was going to ask royalty for. Sticky doings, indeed, if any of the Culpepers found out about his scheme.

  “Carrie, Carrie! Hello, Carrie. You must be a million miles away!”

  “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about something. I, uh, just remembered that Bobby Lee Logan told me Tracy can throw a knife accurately enough to split apples and hit targets in the center. Of course, right away, when we were still in the dressmaker’s shop, I saw that she wasn’t strong enough or tall enough to stab Farel when they were face-to-face. He would have stopped her easily with one hand. But could she have thrown a knife with enough force, and accurately enough, to kill him? Henry says it might be possible. Still, do you think she had enough motive to kill Farel? What if she thought he had given Dulcey to other people or... something like that? If someone was endangering or hurting your child, could you kill...if you had the skill and means?”

  They looked at each other for a moment, then Eleanor’s eyes dropped to her lap. “To protect my child?”

  Neither rocker moved as the two women sat together in the silent room. Then Eleanor looked up, and the tears in her eyes echoed those now falling down Carrie’s cheeks.

  “Could you call it murder?” Eleanor asked. “If it was to save your own child, would it be murder?”

  “Justifiable homicide?” said Carrie. “ Maybe it would be justifiable homicide. But what if the person didn’t actually have a gun at your child’s head, but was just... just...hurting the child in some way? Could you kill?”

  Dear God, Carrie said to herself, oh, dear God. She looked out the window into the lights and shadows of the evening forest. She was way out of bounds. She had no right to have asked this question of Eleanor.

  But now Eleanor said, steadily and quite calmly, “Oh, yes. I’ve known that since Tom was born. To save any of my children I could do it. I could, and I would.”

  The rocking chair began squeaking again, but Carrie had no idea she was pushing it back and forth. This gentle, motherly woman, if she... well, then...

  But that was it. She was a mother. Carrie remembered a nature program she’d seen on AETN. There had been a mother bear and two cubs, and she still remembered what had happened when a male bear, much larger than the mother, got too close to the cubs. Sta
y away from bear cubs, the program had warned. Never get between a mother and her cubs.

  It was true. When Rob was little, to save him—if there had been no other choice—she, too, could have attacked and probably could have killed.

  Finally she said, “Of course it’s possible Tracy had nothing to do with any of this, and I’m just imagining things.”

  They sat motionless, thinking their own thoughts, though Carrie was very conscious now of a sisterhood of shared understanding.

  Then rocking and knitting sounds once more filled the room until the men knocked on the door and Carrie and Eleanor rose to help them. As Jason and Henry came in, floating in a heady aroma of onions and French fried potatoes, Carrie thought, once more, that she heard the creak of the door to the adjoining bedroom. She looked around. Maybe Chase and Tracy were awake after all and were coming to join them. But she was wrong. The door was still closed.

  Chapter XVIII

  Henry and Jason pulled the room’s largest table between the two beds and arranged chairs, then Carrie opened sacks and set out food. Eleanor went to awaken Chase. When she returned, shutting the doors softly behind her, she said he was alert the moment her fingers touched his shoulder. By signs they had agreed they wouldn’t disturb Tracy, who was curled on her side, breathing evenly, and didn’t stir when Eleanor bent to be sure she was all right.

  Chase joined them in a few minutes, and Carrie had a hard time suppressing a gasp. He certainly did look different. Brigid had used some kind of hair color to put grey streaks in his dark hair. He hadn’t shaved, and the shadowy growth of beard, together with hair combed back rather than to the side, gave him a menacing, much older look. He had changed out of Jason’s clothing and wore pleat-front slacks, a dark shirt, and a baggy cardigan sweater. Possibly, Carrie decided, they were things that had once belonged to his father...or grandfather.

  Though Chase’s manner remained reserved, she noticed that some of his disdainful coldness began to fade while they were eating. It would be, she thought, difficult for anyone to remain aloof while eating from a communal heap of French fries and onion rings, especially when these were provided by people willing to go all out to help him.