“Peter!” Dean said hoarsely. He looked at the two women still standing by the railing in confusion.
“You know him?” Lil asked.
“Everyone in town does. He’s one of the most prominent citizens in Little Sneek. He holds the patents on several computer apps—made a fortune.”
“He must have been in the race,” Max said.
Wilkins looked up at Dean. “Have these women been here the whole time?”
“My wife’s cousins, Max and Lil,” Dean told him.
“You don’t have to sound so apologetic,” Max said.
Lil put a hand on Max’s arm. “Max, be quiet. We need to stay out of it.”
Max sputtered and started to retort, but the sound of more footsteps on the stairs stopped her. Janssen returned with a camera. Behind him, a young woman and thirty-something man entered the room carrying a stretcher. Another man followed with a bag of equipment including an oxygen tank and mask.
Wilkins shook his head. “You aren’t going to need any of that except the stretcher.”
They glanced down at the man on the floor, his shape still contorted.
The woman gasped. “Mr. DeVries?”
“I’m afraid so,” Detective Wilkins said.
“Gosh,” Dean said, “Um—I need to let them know in the office what’s going on. They’ve probably heard the sirens. I should have done that right away...”
“Go ahead. Is the director here? If she is, please bring her back with you.”
Dean headed for the door and Max and Lil started after him.
“Ladies,” Wilkins called out, “I’d like you to stay here.”
The two women looked at each other. Lil grimaced and Max raised her eyebrows but neither of them spoke.
Janssen finished up the photos. The EMTs worked quickly and soon had Mr. DeVries strapped to the stretcher.
“How will they get that stretcher down the stairs?” Max asked.
Wilkins pointed at the door. “There’s a catwalk that crosses over to the museum, and there’s an elevator there.”
When the EMTs left, Wilkins turned to them. “Now. I have some questions for you. Was that big door open when you came in this morning?”
“Which big door?” Lil asked. “Here in the windmill?”
“Yes, on the ground floor.”
“We didn’t come in that way,” Max said. “We came over from the museum on the second floor.”
“So you didn’t go to the first floor at all?”
“No, I think we were going there last.”
“Has anyone else been here since you arrived?”
Max shook her head, but Lil said, “Right after Dean hauled the bag up, a young woman with a couple of small children came to the door, but we shooed her away. She didn’t come in.”
“Okay. You started at the second floor you said. Did you visit the other floors before this one?”
Max said, “The second and third; then here.”
“Did Mr. Gregory leave after you got here?”
“No, he’s been with us the whole time.” Max was starting to get defensive; did Wilkins suspect Dean of something?
It was a relief to hear Dean conversing with a woman as they neared the outside door, which the EMTs had left open. The woman was short and elderly with thinning blonde hair.
“Mrs. Eldridge,” Wilkins greeted her. “I—”
She burst out, “Charles, I can’t believe this! Peter DeVries? Who would want to kill him? And do that with his—body?”
“We will find out, never fear,” Wilkins said.
“You’d better, and soon! Dean said we may have to close the mill? At the beginning of the Tulip Fest?”
Wilkins lowered his head. “I’m afraid so.” He looked at his watch. “It’s early yet. I’ll hurry my guys up so maybe you can reopen tomorrow.”
Mrs. Eldridge put her hands on her hips. “How about tonight?”
He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” She turned on her heel and marched back out the door.
Max and Lil both stood dumfounded. Mrs. Eldridge had turned Charles Wilkins, who until then had seemed a confident, competent detective, into a subservient puppy.
He noticed Max and Lil’s expressions and straightened up. “She was my fourth grade teacher.” He gave a little smile and shrugged.
“Wow.” Max said. “She must have been pretty tough.”
Another shrug. “Not really. I was about the only black kid in Little Sneek in those days, and she just made it clear that I couldn’t use that as an excuse. She held me to a high standard, and I think she’s why I made it through college and law school. So I always do what she tells me.”
“You have a law degree?” Lil asked. “Why are you on the police force?”
“I found out after a few years of law practice that I was really more interested in the enforcement side of things.” He turned to Dean. “What needs to be done to close this place down?”
“I have signs.” Dean held up a folder. “I’ll also put it out on the social media. The doors all have deadbolts on them. What about the museum?”
“That’s separate enough that it doesn’t need to close.”
“Well, that should make Mrs. Eldridge a little happier. So if you are done with us, can we leave?”
Wilkins looked up. “I’ll have more questions for all of you. Are your wife’s cousins staying with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call you later today. It looks like there’s going to be no golf for me tomorrow.”
“I suppose not,” Dean said. “I’ll let the others know.” He beckoned to Max and Lil and ushered them out the door. He taped one of the closed signs to the door after they closed it. They crossed to the museum by the catwalk.
When they returned to the main floor, Mrs. Eldridge was in the volunteer office. Dean explained about the closing of the windmill but not the museum.
Mrs. Eldridge heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness! I was kind of hard on Charles, wasn’t I? I’ll need to apologize to him. I know he’s just doing his job. Dean, will you help out in the village since you aren’t giving tours of the mill? I think with the good weather, the crowd could be huge.” Then her face fell, and her eyes teared up. “I can’t believe what happened to Peter. Such a nice man and so generous.”
“Did you know him well?” Lil asked.
“Oh—well—yes, I did.” Her cheeks colored a little, and she busied herself with a stack of papers on the desk. She turned to Lil and Max. “Be sure you check out the quilt display when you go through the Founders’ Village. There are some wonderful quilts there, all locally made by my quilting club.”
“Oh, you’re a quilter, too?” Lil asked. “I love quilting.”
“That’s good,” Mrs. Eldridge said and turned back to the desk. She pulled a couple of sheets out of the center of a stack and handed them to Dean. “Here’s the information about the sod house and depot. Thank you for doing this.” She turned to answer a phone.
“No. No. You’ll have to talk to the police. We have no comment.” She hung up and turned back to them. “It’s starting. That was a Des Moines TV station.” The phone rang again and Dean, Max, and Lil took the opportunity to escape.
Chapter Four
Dean led them to a door out of the back of the museum to the Founders’ Village. Max and Lil had to show the tickets they had purchased earlier. A young woman of maybe twenty-five or so, with long flaxen braids protruding from a snowy-white winged cap, took their tickets and welcomed them. She handed them each a half-sheet of paper with a map of the buildings.
The crowd was growing. As the sisters passed clusters of people, most seemed to be glancing around nervously and exchanging serious whispers instead of paying attention to the tour guides. The somber mood contrasted with the bright tulips in beds around the buildings.
“Word must be out about the murder,” Max said.
Lil nodded. “I think you’re right. It sounds like that guy—the victim—is pretty well known.
”
“Don’t forget, there are a lot of outsiders in town, too.” Max shook her head. “Can you believe this is happening again?”
Lil smiled weakly. “With you around, yes.”
Max huffed. She pointed at a frame cottage to their left. “Should we start over there?”
As they neared the building, Lil squinted at a sandwich board out front. “Oh, goody. That’s where the quilt display is. How fun!”
“Great,” Max said.
“You’ll enjoy it. Think of it like an art museum.”
“I don’t like those either.”
Each room was stripped of most furnishings and decorations. Instead, colorful quilts hung from racks on the white-washed walls and draped over floor stands. Neatly printed cards listed the name of the pattern, the maker or makers, and the date.
Max gave each a cursory look, admitted that they were “pretty,” and moved on to the next room while Lil studied each meticulously. She commented on the patterns, the piecing, the size of the stitches, and the fabric combinations with expertise. She was so engrossed that she didn’t even notice when Max disappeared.
Max soon had circled the house and went back out in the sunshine. A red painted park bench sat along the sidewalk amidst a riot of flowers, so she made herself comfortable at one end of the bench. She wished she had a coffee and one of those Dutch letters.
What a morning! The discovery of a body under such bizarre circumstances was hardly to be believed. Well, it had happened to her and Lil before, but still. And for what possible reason would the murderer stage things like that?
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice she had company until a somewhat familiar voice said, “Mind if I sit here?”
She looked up into the face of James Meijer. He stood nonchalantly with his sweater slung over his shoulder. “Oh, of course not! James, isn’t it?”
“Right.” He snapped his fingers. “You are one of Bess Gregory’s cousins.” He swung his sweater around over his arm and sat down. “Are you enjoying the museum and the village?”
“We just started, but it’s very nice. Surely you’ve been here many times?”
“Me? Oh, sure. I’m just checking things that the Heritage Committee wants to make sure are in tip-top shape for our visitors.” He took a breath and then said, “I don’t know what this murder is going to do to the crowds. Of course, Peter will be greatly missed too—he had lots of friends and contributed to many causes in town. But the Tulip Fest is a huge chunk of the town’s economy. I’m sure this death will make the national news and probably affect the crowds in the future.”
Max said, “It doesn’t sound like Mr. DeVries had many enemies.”
“None that I know of.” He shook his head, and looked steadily at Max. “Really odd thing though. I came by Peter’s house a couple of hours ago, and the cops were there. According to the scanner, it was a robbery—even the flower gardens were dug up.”
Max frowned. “Flower gardens? Why on earth—? What was stolen?”
James looked around and lowered his voice. “Um—I don’t know for sure. But word was that Peter was trying to redevelop the Semper Augustus, the most expensive tulip ever developed. It was popular in the 1600s but it disappeared. See, growers try to come up with new hybrids every year, and it takes a lot of—”
Max waved her hand impatiently. “I was a botany professor. I know what’s involved. Most of those variegated varieties were caused by a virus. But ‘working on it’ is a long way from succeeding.”
“He told a couple of people that he thought he had it.”
“Is it worth murdering for?”
James sat back on the bench and crossed his arms. “To some people. Here’s your sister.”
Lil exited the door, gave Max a big smile and sighed. “What beautiful work. I’m all inspired now.” Then she noticed James. “Good morning! You’re Bess and Dean’s neighbor, right?”
He jumped up. “Yes. Sit here. I need to move on anyway and see if any of the sites need anything. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He bowed with a flourish and headed down the walk. Lil watched him go. Something about him bothered her.
Max got up. “I’m ready to check out the other buildings, too. Are you, or do you need to rest?”
Lil humphed. “It looks like you’re going on whether I’m ready or not.”
“Whatever,” Max said. “I think they’re giving demonstrations in the blacksmith shop next door.”
“Well, wait up!” Lil hurried off in Max’s wake. “You know, when we met that James last night, I thought he was pretty dapper guy, but in the daylight he doesn’t look so hot.”
“Didn’t notice,” Max said. “But he had some interesting information. Said he came by the Peter’s house a couple of hours ago and the police were there answering a robbery call. And that some gardens had been dug up.” Max explained Peter’s involvement in tulip hybridization.
“So his murder might have had something to do with these special tulips?”
Max shrugged. “As good a guess as any, I suppose.”
They moved into the crowd at the blacksmith shop, straining to see what the smithy was working on.
“Looks like a set of fire tools,” Lil said.
A woman in front of her turned slightly and nodded. “It is.”
They watched what they could for a few minutes and listened to the rhythmic clanging until Max said, “Let’s move on. Maybe come back here when the crowd isn’t so big.”
The next building was a restored log cabin. A woman demonstrated cooking over an open fireplace while, on the other side of the cabin, another woman strung apples for drying. It would have been a little out of season for the pioneers, but Max could make allowances.
Three women stood near the cooking presentation but were more engrossed in their own conversation. Max decided it was more interesting too.
“Did you call Helen? Does she know?”
“I didn’t call her.”
“My Trent is on the rescue squad. He said the hospital called her.”
“Really. I’m surprised.”
“What a horrible death. I mean, why would someone do that?”
“And to someone like Peter. Everyone liked him.”
“Apparently not everyone.” The women moved away to the dried apple lady.
When Max and Lil got to an old train depot that had been moved into the pioneer village setup, they found Dean in an engineer’s cap explaining the signal system to a group. He nodded at them and when he finished his spiel, walked over to where they sat on a wooden bench.
“You are a man of many hats,” Lil said.
“And I change at a whim.” He smiled and then looked apologetic. “Are you able to enjoy your visit? The crowd is certainly somber.”
“Not surprising,” Max said. “Was Peter DeVries married?”
Dean shook his head. “A life-long bachelor.”
“We heard some women talking about whether someone named Helen had been notified,” Lil said.
“Hmm—I had heard rumors to that effect. Helen Bakke is a very wealthy local widow. The grapevine had it that they started seeing each other. How sad to have it end like that.” Dean’s phone rang. “Hello? Is there a problem, Wanita? Oh, she’s right here.” He covered the phone and said to Lil, “She wants to talk to the one who likes to quilt.”
Lil took the phone. “Hello?
“I want to apologize for being so rude earlier,” Wanita Eldridge said. “And I wanted to be sure and tell you that we have a great quilting shop just down the street.”
“Really? I will have to get there before we leave. And there’s no need to apologize. You had every right to be upset.”
Mrs. Eldridge said, “Thank you for being so understanding. Say, I’m off work on Monday. I would be glad to take you there Monday morning.”
“I’d love to,” Lil said. “I don’t think we have anything on then.” She looked at Dean. “Is there anything on Monday morning?”
He shrugged. “Not as far as I know.”
Lil returned to the phone. “Yes, I’m available and I’d love to go.”
“Let’s plan on it. Say, eleven o’clock? If something comes up, you can always call me. Dean has my number.”
Lil related the conversation to Dean.
Dean nodded. “I thought she was pretty abrupt and not herself.”
A middle-aged man tapped Dean on the shoulder and asked about restrooms. As he left, Lil said, “We’ll talk to you later. We’re meeting Bess for lunch.”
“Yes. I just talked to her a few minutes ago and gave her the news. You’re meeting her at the Dutch Treat?”
Max grimaced. “I think they take these ‘cute ‘ names a little too far.”
“Maybe.” Dean was not a confrontational guy. “The owner is Mrs. Eldridge’s son, Harry.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut and not offend anyone,” Max said.
“Ha! That’ll be a first.” At a stony stare from her sister, Lil held up her hands. “Just kidding. Just kidding.”
Dean cleared his throat. “If you take a left when you leave the museum, the Dutch Treat is just on the other side of the square. An easy walk if you want to leave your car here. Parking might be tight.”
Max put her hand on his arm. “Thanks, Dean. I know it’s been a terrible day, and I didn’t mean to insult you or the town. We’ll take a quick look at the other buildings before we go.”
“No offense taken. Have a nice lunch.”
Chapter Five
The Dutch Treat had a crisp white exterior, with blue shutters and a window box full of colorful annuals framing the large front window. Inside, bustling waitresses, murmuring voices, and the clatter of dishes filled the room. Bess was already there and had snagged a table.
Lil had spent the walk over reprimanding Max for her sarcastic comments. Being the oldest, Max was not used to being dressed down by her younger siblings. They usually just put up with her. Between the dead body and her sister’s lecture, she was now in a really foul mood.
“Looks like we’ll be lucky to ever get served here,” she grumbled as she sat at the table.
Bess cocked her head and pointed her finger at Max. “I believe you need to buy some new sorts, because you’re out of them this morning, Professor Berra.”
The Mystery Sisters series Box Set Page 24