“No one is accusing your staff—”
“I understand that Bannister is just doing his job.” He turned and faced Tony, smiling broadly as if the entire thing amused him. “And we wouldn’t want a murderer walking around our little hamlet.”
Hamlet? Seriously?
“Now. I believe this is your first visit to my home. How about I give you a tour of the place?”
“Perhaps another time.”
“Certainly.”
McNair walked him to the door, the epitome of a gracious host. Tony didn’t mind admitting to himself that he didn’t like the guy. He was wealthy, arrogant, and obviously thought he was better than everyone else. But that didn’t make him a murderer. If he’d had anything to hide, it was doubtful that he’d offer a tour of the place. Besides, Tony was sure Bannister had checked out his alibi, as well as the alibi of his men.
As he walked to his truck, Tony saw the guy who’d answered the door climb into a Harley Davidson Ford F-150. With 22-inch wheels and an extended cab, Tony guessed the vehicle went for over a hundred thousand.
Every murderer had a motive. In Tony’s experience, it usually boiled down to love, revenge or money.
He couldn’t imagine two more different people than Russell Dixon and Daryl McNair. In fact, he couldn’t think of one reason a shyster like Dixon might keep company with a millionaire like McNair—so it was difficult to imagine a motive.
Love didn’t fit.
Revenge would have required their paths to cross at some point. As far as Tony could ascertain, the two men inhabited completely different worlds.
Which left money, and as he’d just witnessed, McNair seemed to have plenty.
Chapter Twenty-three
Agatha had left a note on Tony’s door inviting him to dinner. She’d pre-made and frozen casseroles for the week, but after visiting Becca’s she had an overwhelming urge to cook. As she was setting a platter of fried chicken in the middle of the table, she was pleasantly surprised to hear a knock at the front door.
“I’ll just get that.”
She wiped her hands on a dish towel as she hurried toward the door. Why did her heart lift at the sight of Tony Vargas standing on her front porch? Perhaps it was just knowing he’d handled these situations before, and he wasn’t intimidated about handling them again. Or maybe it was simply the joy of seeing a friend come to visit.
“Come in.”
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“Your timing is perfect. Everyone is gathered in the dining room.”
“Agatha.” He reached out and pulled her out of sight of the adjacent doorway. “I have an idea.”
“About?”
He nodded toward the dining room. “Your guests are scheduled to leave on Sunday?”
“Yeah.”
“So we have thirty-six hours.”
“About that.”
“And chances are that one of the people gathered at your table was involved in Dixon’s death, or at least knows something about it.”
“I can’t imagine who...” She started to worry her thumbnail, then dropped her hand to her side. She wasn’t a child who needed to chew on her nails, but oh, how she would be glad when this situation was resolved. “What’s your idea?”
“Follow my lead?”
“Of course.”
Her guests were assembled around the large dining room table, and Gina had stayed to help serve everyone. Usually, dinners weren’t such elaborate affairs, but Agatha felt they all needed a pick-me-up, so she’d spent the last three hours frying and baking and sautéing.
Tony let out a long, low whistle when he saw the spread on the table.
“Agatha went all out.” Paxton Cox waved Tony over to an empty seat next to him.
“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and even homemade biscuits.” Mason broke open a biscuit and breathed in the scent with an expression of pure bliss on his face. “I hope you brought your appetite.”
“This looks and smells lovely, Agatha. I believe your cooking might be better than mine.” Miriam Glick folded her hands in her lap.
“You know what they say...other people’s food always tastes best.”
“My mamm used to say that every time we went to my grossdaddi’s home for Sunday dinner.” Joseph reached for his wife’s hand, and they bowed their heads.
The Glicks and Agatha did the same. Agatha had been thanking Gotte for her food since she was a small child, and she wasn’t going to stop because she had guests around her table...but neither did she want to make them feel uncomfortable. When she’d finished her own silent prayer, she glanced up and smiled at Brooklyn Willis.
Agatha wasn’t too surprised the young mom’s camera hung over the back of her chair. She’d even taken a picture of the table once they’d placed all the food on it. Now why would someone take pictures of food? Sometimes the things Englischers did were beyond Agatha.
“How’s baby Hudson doing today?”
“Much better. Thank you for asking. And thank you for finding a high chair.”
Agatha waved that away. Every Amish home kept a high chair and playpen tucked away in case they were needed. She did notice that the smile slipped from Brooklyn’s face as soon as she looked down at her plate. Perhaps she wasn’t feeling well, or maybe having a small child was simply exhausting. Agatha certainly remembered those days well enough.
Soon everyone was talking and enjoying the meal. Tony was sitting between Paxton Cox and Gina. Agatha was grateful Gina stayed to eat with them. Too often, she tried to slip off once the work was done, but something told Agatha the woman would enjoy a bit of socializing.
Several times throughout the meal, she noticed Tony listening and watching, but he didn’t address the group until the dishes had been cleared and hot coffee poured. Agatha fetched the applesauce cake for dessert and served it with a side of fresh strawberries and whipping cream. Xavier Cooper groaned, but that didn’t stop him from helping himself to a large piece.
“So how’s the case going, Tony?” Jasmine sat back clasping her coffee mug. She’d barely picked at her food, and she passed on dessert as well.
Tony took his time answering. He added a teaspoon of sugar to his coffee, stirred it methodically, then took a sip. “Good coffee, Agatha.”
“Danki.”
“As to your question, Jasmine, I believe we’re getting close.”
“How so?” Stuart accepted baby Hudson from Brooklyn, who now looked as if she might be ill. All color had bled from her face, leaving her pale and shaken. “Has an arrest been made? I mean, other than Agatha. No offense, Agatha.”
“None taken.”
“No. No arrests, but a couple of things have become fairly obvious.”
Now he had everyone’s attention, and Agatha realized he’d perfectly laid his trap. He waited until everyone was full and relaxed—even slightly off guard. Then he allowed someone else to bring up the subject. And now, he was reeling them in like a largemouth bass out of the Guadalupe. Everyone at the table had their eyes fixed on Tony—well, all except Baby Hudson, who was busy trying to reach his toes.
“First of all, Russell Dixon was not just an insurance adjuster. He had another life that some people probably weren’t aware of...though I believe many here knew about it.”
Agatha wanted to keep her eyes on Tony, but she couldn’t help watching the reactions of her guests. Several people pulled back, a few shook their heads, and Gina crossed her arms over her chest like she’d expected as much all along.
“Secondly, I’m personally convinced that someone in this room knew Dixon was going to be here, adjusted their plans to coincide with his, and then either directly or indirectly had a hand in his murder.”
“Hang on now.” Mason drew himself up to his full height as a scowl covered his face. “That’s quite an accusation.”
“Take it as you will. I believe it’s the truth. Stuart asked what progress we’d made, and I’m simply filling everyone in. We’re not there yet,
but I have every confidence we will be soon.”
Complete silence blanketed the group, but Tony didn’t rush. He allowed his gaze to travel slowly around, pausing briefly on Agatha as if he were again seeking her permission. She nodded, slightly, just a tiny movement of her head but it seemed to be all he needed.
“I’m also convinced that every person at this table...with the exception of Gina and Agatha...has lied during this investigation. And that, my friends, is obstruction of justice. So perhaps it’s time we were honest with one another.”
No one uttered a word.
Mason looked like he wanted to storm out of the room. Paxton’s face flushed with anger. Jasmine Cooper was doing her best to act bored, and her husband barely acknowledged that he’d heard anything. Brooklyn was visibly shaking. Stuart was suddenly completely focused on baby Hudson, and the Glicks and Beilers stared at their now-empty dessert plates.
Tony finished his coffee, set the mug back on the placemat, and studied the group. “Would you like me to continue?”
“Yes, of course. We’re enthralled.” Jasmine rolled her eyes, as if her tone alone didn’t convey her skepticism.
“All right. Agatha’s Amish guests...the Glicks and Fishers and Beilers...all knew Dixon and had invested money in his scam. Yet on your witness forms, I suspect you checked that you didn’t know the deceased.”
“We did no such thing.” Henry thumped his closed fist against the table. “We all agreed to leave that question blank. Besides, the question was vague. How can one ever be sure they actually know another person? We obviously did not know the real Mr. Dixon, so leaving the question blank seemed prudent.”
“A lie of omission is a lie all the same.”
“And we will be asking forgiveness from our Gotte for that.” Joseph Beiler looked more tired than upset. “We’ve also already amended our statement with Lieutenant Bannister.”
“Better late than never.” Tony moved his attention around the table. “Brooklyn and Stuart, you claimed to see Dixon downstairs, when Hudson was awake and teething...but as far as I can tell Hudson isn’t teething at all. If he is, he’s the happiest baby I’ve ever seen going through the pain of cutting teeth.”
The young couple glanced toward one another, but neither attempted to defend their statement.
“Jasmine and Xavier, we’ve already discussed the water bottle lie—”
“Misunderstanding.” Xavier’s voice was a low growl.
“But in fact, you haven’t been hiking at all. I interviewed a woman yesterday who said you’ve rented kayaks every day and that she saw you just south of here on the river, with binoculars, watching. Do you want to share what you were looking for?”
Jasmine stood, pushing her chair back with a loud screech. “You’re crazy. You’re a burned-out cop who still wants to play detective.”
She pointed a turquoise-painted fingernail at him. “And you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stormed from the room.
Xavier shrugged and followed her.
Which left the Cox brothers. When Tony turned his attention to them, both men seemed to shrink back.
“You two are not here to fish. I haven’t figured out what you’re doing yet, but I do know it has nothing to do with Guadalupe bass. When someone’s willing to lie about the little things, my experience has shown they’re usually covering up something much bigger.”
Paxton reached for the piece of cake he hadn’t finished. “So what? It’s our vacation. We can do whatever we want.” But Agatha noticed his hand shook as he attempted to pile a piece of cake on the fork. He finally dropped it on the plate and stared at the opposite wall.
“So in answer to Jasmine’s question, I believe the investigation is going well. All we have to figure out now is what each of you had to cover up, and whether doing so was worth committing murder.”
Chapter Twenty-four
The group quickly dispersed as Agatha stood and began clearing off the dishes. She didn’t seem as agitated as Tony was afraid she might be. Instead, he’d have to peg her emotions as resigned. But what did he know? A week ago he couldn’t have picked her out from a line up.
“Sorry I ruined your dinner party.” Tony took the stack of plates from her and carried them into the kitchen.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting such a direct confrontation.”
“It’s about time if you ask me.” Gina was already filling the sink with scalding water and detergent. She’d donned yellow rubber gloves that reached to her elbows, and when she turned to Tony, she held them up like a surgeon might before picking up a scalpel. “We don’t have long to find the killer before this group scatters to the wind. Next week we have a wedding party here.”
“So you approve of my methods?” Tony tried not to smile at the intense scowl on Gina’s face.
“Not only do I agree with them, I think they’re long overdue. Best to get everything out in the open.”
Agatha tried to shoo him out of the kitchen, but Tony found the cleaning and drying and putting up relaxing. He’d always done some of his best thinking while helping Camilla in the kitchen.
And there it was again, the hole in his life that wouldn’t seem to close. He could see his home from the kitchen window, and it looked as empty and forlorn as he sometimes felt.
He shook away the foreboding thoughts and walked outside with Agatha. Gina said goodnight, reminding them to call her, “if there’s a break in the case.”
“I have a feeling Gina spends a lot of time watching murder mysteries on television.”
“Oh ya, she has the lingo down.”
Tony thought perhaps he should leave, but Agatha seemed in no hurry to turn in, and a beautiful Texas sunset was just beginning. So instead he followed her around the side of the house to take in the coolness of the evening. They’d barely settled into two of the porch rockers when Henry Glick and Joseph Beiler walked up the steps. Both men looked to be in their sixties and had beards reaching to their chest—though Henry’s was salt and pepper whereas Joseph’s was solid white.
At Agatha’s insistence, the men settled in two chairs across from them, though neither looked particularly at ease.
“We’re here to apologize. We certainly didn’t wish to make this entire situation more difficult than it already is.” Henry pulled a piece of lemon candy from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “You have a beautiful place here, Agatha, but to say this trip has been a disappointment would be an understatement.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. It can’t be easy.”
“No burden so great as that which is self-made.” Joseph held up his hand when Agatha started to protest. “We don’t mind taking responsibility for the mess we willingly walked into. Dixon was a smooth talker, for sure and certain, he was. But we practically danced into his trap. No one forced us to invest in his supposed business.”
“You know what they say when something sounds too good to be true.” Henry sat back, running his hand over the arm of the chair. “Now it’s time to make amends and pick up the pieces of our lives. You’ve created a lovely place to rest and refocus. Under different circumstances, it would have been a very pleasant vacation.”
“Danki.”
“I believe next time I’ll stick to fishing.” Henry pantomimed throwing a line into the water. “This little area could become as popular as Sarasota if you don’t watch out. You could be overrun with Amish.”
“I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
Tony sat back and listened to the banter. His Spidey-sense was telling him Henry and Joseph had more reasons for stopping by than to thank Agatha.
Joseph slipped his thumbs under his suspenders. “We thought perhaps we should start at the beginning, give you a little background on Dixon, in the hopes it will help you to solve this thing.”
Pulling his pad of paper and pen from his pocket, Tony motioned for them to continue. In the fading light of a June sunset, he wrote down the salient points.
Dixon had put an advertisement in the Shipshewana paper.
He held a meeting at the local diner, in a back room.
There he showed them graphs and a flashy presentation.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Half a dozen families bought in, but a year later, they’d still heard nothing regarding their investment. Finally, Henry Glick, Joseph Beiler, and James Fisher tracked the man down and insisted on a meeting. Dixon admitted he’d be at Agatha’s place the following week.
“I wondered why so many reservations came in all at once, and a week before.” Agatha’s stared out at the Texas sunset. Finally she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. “I was happy to have a full inn—happy but surprised. Most people plan vacations further out than that.”
“Wait a minute.” Tony turned toward her. “How many of the people here reserved at the last minute?”
“My Amish guests and the Coopers and Mr. Dixon. Why? Is that important?”
“It might be.” Tony motioned for the two men across from him to continue.
Henry nodded occasionally to confirm a point that Joseph made, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Seemed like Gotte’s hand, ya?” Joseph pulled at the collar of his shirt. “An Amish Bed-and-Breakfast in the middle of Texas, where Dixon already planned to be?”
Tony wasn’t ready to assign that coincidence to providence. More likely, it had been part of Dixon’s plan. But the man couldn’t have suspected what a deadly turn the week would take or he would have implemented more precautions. So what had gone wrong?
Henry finally jumped into the conversation. “We tried to talk to him when we first arrived. He brushed us off. Then early Wednesday morning—well before sunrise, I heard him arguing with the Cox brothers.”
Tony exchanged a look with Agatha. He’d doubted Jasmine’s story about Dixon’s confrontation with Mason and Paxton, but apparently she’d been telling the truth.
“Any idea what the argument was about?” Agatha asked.
Dead Wrong Page 12