“We have to find my grandmother,” I said. “And Bernie.” I looked around as panic began to rise in me. “And Barney.”
“Barney’s fine,” Jesse said. “He’s got to be with Eleanor.”
I shook my head. “Not if Rita had anything to say about it. She hates him.”
Jesse wrinkled his brow. “She hates Barney? What kind of people are they?”
Susanne’s class let out as Jesse and I discussed what we should do. The twins eyed us suspiciously but walked away without saying a word. Pete came over and introduced himself, and beckoned for Frank and Helen to do the same.
“Couldn’t live a whole week without Nell,” Pete said once he realized who Jesse was. “I can’t blame you. These are the nicest ladies I’ve met in a while.”
“That Susanne is one hell of a teacher,” Frank chimed in. “I enjoy every moment I’m in class.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “We missed you today,” she said to me. “Were you helping Rita or George?”
There was an edge to her voice that took me by surprise.
“Neither,” I said. Before there were more questions I didn’t know how to answer, I walked away.
I went into the classroom, where Susanne was refolding fabrics. “I may actually be making some progress,” she said. “People found some really interesting objects to add to their quilts.”
She pointed toward a pile of items, among them some twigs, a few leaves, a bottle cap, and a feather.
“When did they get these?” I asked.
“I sent them off after lunch. I was expecting everyone to come back in ten minutes with whatever they could find around the building. I guess I didn’t have much faith in their enthusiasm. But they were gone for nearly an hour.” Susanne grabbed a half yard of fabric and folded it, placing it carefully on a pile. Then she looked around. “Did you happen to take some of my quilts back to the room? I brought five large quilts and now I can only find four. I know the other one was here this morning.”
I shook my head. Missing quilts were the least of my problems. “Susanne, something is going on here. I think George drugged me. I have no idea why. But Bernie and Eleanor are missing. And so is Barney. Jesse is here, and we’re going to have to do something. I’m getting worried.”
Susanne was the easiest of the group to frighten, so I felt momentarily guilty about adding to her stress, but there was no point in shielding her from possible danger.
Without saying a word, she dropped the fabrics she was folding and followed me out of the classroom, while a bolt of lightning flashed overhead and a steady rain began to fall on all of us.
CHAPTER 14
“I just got off the phone with the police chief, a guy named McIntyre,” Jesse said as he met us on the inn’s veranda. “He said he’d look around town and ask if anyone knows where Mrs. Olnhausen is. He also told me that there are very few strangers in town this time of year, so Eleanor should be easy to spot.”
Everyone but the twins had stayed to talk with Susanne and myself, and seemed equally concerned about the disappearances, which made me feel closer to each of them.
“I thought you were helping your grandmother,” Susanne said.
There was no accusation in her voice, but I felt somehow responsible that some of our group was now missing.
“I fell asleep,” I said meekly.
“She was drugged,” Jesse corrected me. “Look at her eyes—they’re glassy. Something’s going on here.”
The waiting had finally gotten to me. “I’m going to walk toward the hiking trails,” I said. “Barney and I were there this morning. Maybe he wandered back. He was sniffing at something, so he might have gone back to check it out. At least it would be something he’s familiar with.”
“I can go with you,” Pete volunteered.
“Helen and I are heading back toward town anyway,” Frank said. “Why don’t I drive around and see if I can spot Eleanor?”
“Cell service is really bad around here,” I warned Frank. “Call the inn if you have any news.”
“Someone stay by the phone.”
“I’ll do that,” Susanne volunteered. “Jesse, you should go with Nell and Pete. I don’t like the idea of Barney wandering around in the woods with this storm going on.”
Jesse, Pete, and I retraced the steps of my earlier walk. The rain had started to come down hard, but I was determined to find Barney. I just couldn’t understand why he would wander off. I knew he was starting to be forgetful, but he was also pretty lazy. At home he might halfheartedly chase an occasional squirrel, but he wouldn’t wander in the rain when there was a soft bed and a cookie waiting for him. When I found him, I had every intention of giving him a piece of my mind—one I knew he wouldn’t hear or pay attention to. But when I finally located the patch of dirt that had interested him earlier, there was no one there.
“He’s not here,” I shouted to Jesse and Pete, who had wandered several feet away from me. Now worry was being overtaken by anger. If not for Rita, Barney would be at Eleanor’s side, and I would know that both of them were safe. But because of this ridiculous charade of a quilt retreat, they were both gone. Maybe it was too early to be so afraid, but if George had drugged me, and I was certain he had, what might he have done to the others?
Suddenly I heard a rustling in the trees in the direction Jesse had walked. I heard Jesse and Pete talking in soft tones for several minutes before Jesse called out, “I’ve got him.”
I walked over and saw Barney digging at a patch of ground. I grabbed at his collar, but he was too intently focused on his task to notice that I was there.
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
Jesse pointed to the ground near Barney’s nose. I saw a lifeless dark brown paw sticking out of the ground.
“Is it a deer?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Pete said. “It was buried here. No one buries a deer.”
“Maybe it’s a dog.” I peered closer at the uncovered leg and the smell of decay made me feel sick.
Jesse nodded. “That must be it. Someone probably buried their dog in a shallow grave, and the rain is washing away the dirt.”
Pete shook his head. “It’s my land, but it’s not my dog. I’m not sure how I feel about someone doing that, but at least Barney is safe.”
“There was something in the paper about missing hunting dogs,” I said. “Do you think someone is killing dogs?”
Jesse took my hand. “It’s probably nothing, but let’s get back to the house.”
“You’re worried.”
“I’m not worried. But we have Barney now, and the others will be on their way back. There’s no point in standing in the rain because of dead dog.”
For once I agreed with Jesse that curiosity wasn’t a good enough reason to stick around in the pouring rain. I pulled on Barney’s leash to get him away from the dog’s grave and reached back for Jesse’s hand. But it wasn’t there.
I looked around and realized that Jesse had taken several steps away from me, with Pete following close behind him.
“Jesse, the house is the other way,” I pointed out.
He nodded and kept walking.
“Jesse.” I was suddenly nervous. “I really don’t feel like standing around in the rain when we don’t know if Eleanor and Bernie are okay.”
“Jesse,” Pete added. “Nell’s right. We have the dog. That’s what we came for. Let’s get back to the inn and see if we can find the others.”
“I’m coming,” he finally answered. “I just thought I saw . . .”
Jesse didn’t finish. He was looking toward a cluster of trees off to the left. I followed his eyes and realized what he was seeing. The red and white double cross quilt was lying on the ground under a tree. But not directly on the ground. Something was under it.
“Stay here,” Jesse directed me.
“Fat chance.”
Jesse, Pete, and I walked to the quilt, and as we got closer, I could see a deep red stain near the top of it. Ei
ther the rain was spreading the stain or it was what I feared: something under the quilt had bled badly. I held tight to Barney’s collar as Jesse kneeled beside the quilt, picked up a corner, and pulled it back.
Barney tried to pull away from me, apparently desperate to sniff what we had uncovered. I held him back as best I could but my hands were shaking.
“Do you know who this is?” he asked.
I looked down at the eyes that were staring ahead but seeing nothing. The shock of a dead body was nothing compared to the shock of whose body it was.
“It’s George Olnhausen,” Pete told him quietly. “He’s the owner of the bed-and-breakfast.”
George was lying on his back, with a small hole in the center of his chest and blood, which still looked wet, forming a circle around the wound.
I took a deep breath and looked closer. “Is he dead?”
Jesse felt for a pulse. Seconds passed before he nodded. “I’d guess a gunshot through the heart, by the looks of it. I don’t see any powder burns on his shirt so probably not close range. Good shot though.” Jesse tilted George’s body slightly up. “His wallet is still there.” He let the body return to its original spot.
“Do you think someone tried to rob him? In the woods?” Pete asked.
Jesse shrugged. “This guy owned the inn?”
I nodded.
“Then this is the guy who drugged you.”
“I guess he had bigger problems than trying to get rid of me.”
“Maybe.” Jesse locked eyes with me. “I don’t think he’s been dead long. He’s still warm.”
I looked at the trees surrounding us, closing out the daylight and leaving lots of hiding places for someone with a gun.
“So the killer could still be here,” Pete said. As the words came out of his mouth, I thought I heard a rustle in the trees behind me, but I told myself it was probably a trick of my nerves.
Jesse let go of the quilt and looked around. “Should have brought my gun,” he muttered. “Pete, you better come back with us. But let’s do it now, and quickly.”
Then Jesse grabbed my hand, and the three of us ran down the hiking trail in the direction of the inn, with Barney running alongside us as if we were racing for the fun of it.
CHAPTER 15
“Everything’s okay,” Susanne called to us as we walked into the entryway. “Frank found Eleanor. She had driven into town. She’s on her way back.”
“Call the police chief,” Jesse said. “We have a dead body out there.”
Without waiting for her to dial, Jesse grabbed the phone. Barney shook himself violently, drying himself but getting everything around him wet. Then he scratched at the door to go out again. Pete stood at the entrance as though he were guarding it. I was shaking. The rain, the dead dog, and the sight of George’s lifeless eyes had made me very cold, and all I wanted to think about was getting out of my wet clothes and into something warm and comforting. I started up the stairs to the bedroom.
But Susanne stopped me. “What is he talking about? Is he talking about a person? There’s a person dead in the woods?” Susanne reached down to Barney, holding him close, as if to protect him.
“It’s George. He’s dead,” I said.
“What do you mean, dead? How could he be dead? He was the picture of health this morning.”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was trying to cushion the blow, but there didn’t seem much point. “It looks like murder.”
Susanne looked at me as if she were waiting for the punch line of a very bad joke. When she saw that none was coming, she just shook her head and moved back, leaning against the wall. “That can’t be. He was with Bernie,” she said, then clasped one hand over her mouth.
Bernie was now the only one of our group not accounted for. “Where is she?” I asked urgently.
“Where’s who?” I turned to see Bernie walking down the steps from the bedrooms.
“Where were you?”
“Upstairs, taking a nap.” Bernie pointed up the steps. Her face was flushed and her eyes were red. I wondered for a second if she too had been drugged, but she didn’t give me a chance to ask. She walked past as if I wasn’t there. “What are you doing here, Jesse?”
Jesse hung up the phone and moved in close. “Bernie, where were you just now?”
“I was upstairs.” For the second time she pointed up the stairs.
“Nell looked upstairs,” Jesse said.
I shook my head. “Before I fell asleep. She could have come in afterward. We didn’t check the rooms. We came straight downstairs.”
“What time did you go to your room, Bernie?” Jesse leaned closer to Bernie, who stared at him. I could see that she was about to cry, and when she looked to me for help, I grabbed Jesse’s arm and forced him back a few steps.
“Give her a minute,” I said.
“We don’t have a minute. McIntyre’s on his way.”
Bernie looked from Jesse to me. “What’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was raised and shaking. I wanted to bring her into the living room and have her sit down, but Jesse shook me off. He moved closer to Bernie and blocked my access to her.
“Were you with George today?” he asked.
“Yes, earlier. We went for a walk.”
“Where?” Jesse moved closer.
“In the woods.”
“What time?”
I could see fear spread across Bernie’s face, and I could see that it was Jesse’s doing. He was going into full police-chief mode. But this wasn’t his town, and she wasn’t his suspect. I pushed back toward Bernie.
“Don’t answer that,” I said. I grabbed her arm, ignoring the look of annoyance from Jesse, and took her into the kitchen.
Bernie resisted my pushing, but I didn’t let up. Once we were alone, I let go of her arm.
“What are you dragging me in here for?” she asked.
“I just need you to take a deep breath and tell me everything that happened this afternoon. And quickly, before the police arrive.”
“The police are coming?”
“What were you doing with George this afternoon?” I asked.
Something changed in Bernie’s face. The fear and confusion left her and she seemed, instead, to be offended. “Look, I know you guys think I’m crazy, but he’s an old friend and I will do what I like.”
“What time did you leave him?”
“Nell, I’m a grown woman. I don’t have to account to anyone for my time.”
“Humor me.”
“Maybe two or three hours ago.”
“And you went to your room right after you last saw George?”
“Yes. What is going on?”
“That isn’t true, Bernie. I went into everyone’s room a couple of hours ago, and you weren’t in yours.”
“I was . . .” She stopped. “What are you asking me, Nell?”
“I want to know where you were this afternoon.”
“Why?”
I took a deep breath and said as calmly as I could, “George is dead.”
Bernie froze. Finally she said, softly, “That’s not possible. He was fine an hour ago.”
“Is that the last time you saw him?”
She didn’t seem to hear me. I waited for an answer. Instead I got a question.
“How?” she finally asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
“Jesse thinks he was shot.”
Her eyes widened and she seemed about to collapse. I reached out to her, but she waved me off and, instead of getting support from me, leaned against the kitchen counter. “You think I had something to do with it?”
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is that we found him in the woods, just off the hiking trail. He was covered with one of the quilts Susanne brought.”
“The double cross.”
I took a deep breath and asked a question I didn’t want to ask. “How do you know that?”
“We took it from the studio. George asked me to go for a walk and he’d brough
t a bottle of wine and some food. I thought he wanted to have a picnic, so I grabbed the quilt. It is mine, and I figured Susanne was done showing it to the class. It was harmless. Just two old friends.”
“Having a romantic picnic?”
“Something like that.”
“Bernie, he’s someone else’s husband.”
The door opened behind me.
“Not anymore, he’s not.” I recognized the voice as belonging to Jim McIntyre, the local police chief. “Ma’am,” he said to Bernie, “would you mind answering some questions for me?”
CHAPTER 16
The storm was over. It was, strangely enough, a beautiful spring night, with thousands of stars stretching out across a deep blue sky. Eleanor arrived back, and after hearing the news, she did what any practical woman would do: she set to work on dinner. Susanne took her lead and, despite being very shaken, set the tables.
Pete had gone home to get out of his wet clothes but had promised to check in on us later. I think he was more shocked than the rest of us that Bernie had spent the day picnicking with a married man. I assured him that, no matter what it looked like, Bernie hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t seem convinced, but, then, he didn’t know Bernie. Of course, neither did Chief McIntyre, and he was alone with her, asking questions. After pacing the living room floor for half an hour, I went outside and waited nervously for McIntyre’s ’s interrogation to end.
“What are you doing out here?”
I looked over at Jesse, who handed me a hot cup of tea. “I was trying to make sense of it.”
“It’s too early for that. There are too many questions.”
“There’s one very big one,” I pointed out. “Where’s Rita?”
Jesse nodded. “McIntyre said she was upstairs, resting. I asked him how she sounded and he said ‘not normal.’ ”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure. Either she didn’t sound normal because her husband has been murdered, or she didn’t sound the way a woman whose husband was murdered should sound.”
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