by B R Snow
“I’d buy it,” the Chief said, laughing. “That sounds like a fun project.”
“She and Josie are going to start taking extended trips so Chef Claire can research regional cuisines.”
“Really?” the Chief said. “How long?”
“Well, she was originally talking about taking a year off and going by herself.”
“Traveling the world alone?” the Chief said. “Scary proposition these days.” He pointed at an upcoming two-lane road. “Make a left.”
“Yeah, we kinda freaked out when she mentioned it,” I said. “That’s when Josie offered to tag along if she was willing to take shorter trips.”
“Good for them,” he said, nodding. “How are you handling it? Change has never been your strong suit.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, shrugging. “Between the Inn, the new rescue center, and Max, I’ll have more than enough to keep me busy.”
“Where is Max at the moment?”
“Equador.”
“Right, they had an earthquake. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. What are the new living arrangements going to be after the wedding?”
“Max is going to rent his place in Ottawa and move down here. And Josie is talking about buying the Bertram’s place.”
“Nice,” the Chief said. “Just down the street, and she’ll still be able to walk to work. And Chef Claire will be her roommate?”
“That’s the plan,” I said. “At least for now.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s just a feeling I have. Chef Claire seems really restless. And I’m not sure those trips are going to be enough to keep her happy.”
“She’s a big girl. And very smart. I’m sure she’ll figure it all out.”
“Yeah, I’m just being selfish,” I said.
“Try not to beat yourself up too much,” the Chief said.
“I’ll try,” I said. “Besides, Josie gets upset when I start cutting into her territory.”
The Chief laughed then glanced out the window.
“Okay, this is the place,” he said. “Bucks Bridge.”
“Wow. I thought Clay Bay was small,” I said, glancing outside at what appeared to be pretty much farmland. “It’s pretty country. What body of water is that?”
“The Grasse River.”
“Right,” I said, nodding. “That’s the one that comes out of the Adirondacks and dumps into the St. Lawrence near Massena.”
“That’s it. There’s an old church here, but I don’t think there’s even a post office,” the Chief said. “If I remember, the folks who live here have to pick up their mail a couple of miles up the road in Madrid.”
“When were you here?”
“It was back when I was with the state police,” he said. “I helped out on a case up here. Some genius thought he could move to a tiny hamlet and cook meth without anybody noticing.”
“I take it people noticed,” I said, laughing.
“Noticed the genius right into twelve years in federal prison,” the Chief said.
“I take it he didn’t work hard enough at perfecting his craft.”
“To say the least,” the Chief said, shaking his head at the memory.
“There’s the farmhouse in the photo I saw,” I said, slowing down. “How about that?”
“Judging from the flower beds, somebody is living here. Let’s go have a look.”
I pulled into the tiny driveway and parked right next to the house. It was small and needed a paint job but appeared to be reasonably well maintained. We climbed the short set of steps that led to the front porch and knocked. Seconds later, the door opened halfway, and an elderly woman poked her head out.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“Are you Bella Johnson?” I said with a smile.
“I am. Who are you?”
“I’m Suzy Chandler from Clay Bay. And this is Chief Abrams. He’s our local police chief.”
“Okay,” she said, confused. “What do you want with me?”
“We’re here about Samantha,” I said.
The woman’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped. She let the door swing wide open but continued to stand in the doorway.
“Sammy? You have information about Sammy?”
“We do,” I whispered.
“Please, come in,” she said, stepping to one side and waving us in.
We entered and glanced around the small living room. Apart from the wallpaper that had a horrid flower pattern right out of the 1950s, the inside of the house was quaint and well-kept. Bella gestured for us to sit on the couch then sat down in a chair directly across from us and leaned forward.
“Please, tell me what you know,” she said, her voice shaking.
I glanced at the Chief, and he stared back at me and eventually nodded.
“I hate to tell you this, Mrs. Johnson,” the Chief said in a tone I knew he had perfected over the years delivering devastating news. “But we have some bad news to share with you. I’m afraid that Samantha drowned a few days ago in Clay Bay.”
Bella Johnson stared at us in disbelief, then lowered her head and began sobbing. I got up and tried to comfort her, but she gently shook me off. I sat back down on the couch and waited patiently for her to find her bearings.
“What was she doing in the water?” she finally managed to get out. “Sammy was a terrible swimmer.”
“Have you heard from her lately?” the Chief said.
“I got a letter a few weeks ago,” she said. “Along with the check.”
“Check?” the Chief said.
“She sent me a check about every three months,” Bella said. “Usually, it was just the check. But the last one included a letter.”
“Can I ask you what she said in the letter?” he said.
“Like usual, it didn’t make a lot of sense,” she said. “Just a bunch of rambling thoughts and run-on sentences. But she did say that she was going to try to visit me. She said she had a surprise.”
“She didn’t say what the surprise was?” I said.
“No,” Bella said, starting another round of sobs. “I can’t believe I was so close to seeing her again. And then this happens.”
“How long has it been since you last saw her?” the Chief said.
“I haven’t seen Sammy since she ran away,” Bella said, appearing to be on the verge of hyperventilating. “That was thirty years ago.”
I glanced at the Chief, but he was staring off into the distance deep in thought.
“I didn’t hear a thing from her for over ten years, then the checks started showing up.”
“You didn’t try to track her down?” the Chief said.
“I tried everything. Cops, private investigators, you name it,” she said, taking several deeps breath in rapid succession. “But nobody could find a trace of her. The postmarks were always from a different place.”
“That makes sense,” I said to the Chief. “The circus was constantly touring.”
“Circus?” Bella said, staring at me.
“Samantha was a circus performer,” I said.
“Really?” Bella said, giving me a wide-eyed stare.
“Yes. She had a trained dog act.”
Bella sat back in her chair, and her head began to move as if it were a bobblehead doll moving in slow motion. Her eyes darted around the room, and she dug her nails into both knees.
For a moment, I thought we’d somehow been teleported into the middle of a poltergeist movie.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head in anger. “You just couldn’t stop mouthing off, could you? I hope you’re happy.”
The Chief and I both glanced around the room just to confirm there wasn’t someone else in the room with us. She noticed our expressions then shrugged.
“I’m talking to him.”
“Your ex-husband?” I said, cocking my head.
“Who else would I be talking to?”
“Well done,” the Chief whispered.
&n
bsp; “Lucky guess,” I whispered back without taking my eyes off the woman whose agitation continued to ramp up.
“Always saying Sammy belonged in the circus,” Bella said, her eyes continuing to dart around the room. “Just because she was a little bit different. I hope you’re happy. You monster.”
Both of us sat quietly and waited for her to snap out of whatever trance-like state she’d slipped into.
“Monster,” Bella whispered, then began another round of sobs.
“Why do you think she never told you about working in the circus?” the Chief said.
“She probably couldn’t bring herself to admitting that he was right,” Bella said.
“He being your husband?” the Chief said.
“Who else would I be talking about?” she repeated.
Then she started doing the bobblehead thing again as she stared expectantly around the room.
“Okay,” I whispered, leaning toward Chief Abrams who was closely watching the woman’s movements. “I’m officially freaked out.”
The Chief nodded without taking his eyes off her. Then he leaned forward and reached out and placed a hand on her arm. Bella flinched slightly, but her head stopped moving, and she focused on the Chief.
“Do you live here all by yourself, Mrs. Johnson?” the Chief said.
“I do. But Bobbie stops by to help me out,” she said.
“Who’s Bobbie?” the Chief said.
“He’s a friend who lives up the road,” she said. “He’s been helping me for years. I just love what he’s done with the garden this spring.”
“It’s very nice,” I said. “How often does he stop by?”
“All the time,” she said, staring out the window. “But I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. And I’m running low on some things.”
An idea floated to the surface, and I looked at the Chief who appeared to be thinking the same thing I was.
“We’d be happy to go to the store for you, Mrs. Johnson,” the Chief said, removing his notebook from his pocket. “Just tell us what you need, and I’ll make a list.”
The Chief jotted a note on the page and held it out so I could read it. Talk to Bobbie. I nodded then leaned forward on the couch.
“Anything you need, Mrs. Johnson,” I said. “We’ll be happy to pick it up. Your mail, groceries, maybe your meds are running low.”
“Don’t start,” the Chief whispered.
“I’m not starting anything,” I whispered back. “She’s scaring the crap out of me.”
“No, that’s quite all right. But thank you. I’m sure Bobbie will be here later today.”
She sat back in her chair and calmly folded her hands on her lap.
“What were some of the things Sammy liked to do when she was young?” I said.
“Sammy didn’t do a lot of things,” Bella said with a sad smile. “But what she did do, she did a lot of.”
“Okay,” I said, repeating the odd statement silently in my head just to make sure I understood what she was saying. “What were they?”
“She loved playing with toy soldiers,” Bella said, her eyes again drifting off as the memory washed over her. “No dolls for Sammy. She loved creating battles in her bedroom. Oh, the racket she made was enough to raise the dead.” Bella returned to the moment and glanced back and forth at us. “And, of course, the dogs.”
“Dogs?” I said. “You had dogs in the house?”
“Of course,” she said, chuckling. “All the time. We used to breed them.”
“You were a dog breeder?” the Chief said.
“For several years, yes,” she said, then began sobbing again. “Right up until…my husband died. After that, I had to get rid of them.”
“What breed?” the Chief said.
“Beagles,” I blurted, then I felt my face turn red.
“How on earth did you know that?” Bella said, staring in disbelief at me.
I sat quietly, trying to decide if telling the old woman that the surprise her daughter had planned was to give her the Queens Beagle. I had no idea if telling her would lessen her pain or send off the cliff. Not willing to run the risk, I opted for a small lie.
“Just a lucky guess,” I said, shrugging.
“Smooth,” the Chief whispered.
“Shut it.”
I smiled at her as she continued to stare at me. Then she looked out the window again.
“I wonder what’s keeping him,” Bella said. “Bobbie never goes more than a few days without stopping by.”
“We’d be happy to swing by his place just to make sure he’s okay,” I said.
“I suppose that might be a good idea,” she said. “He’s just up the road.”
“What’s the address?” the Chief said.
“Oh, you don’t need that,” she said, waving it away. “You can’t miss it. Turn right out of the driveway, and he’s about a mile up on the left near the river. Yellow house with a big front porch. And you’ll see his red truck in the driveway.”
“Thank you,” the Chief said, getting up from the couch. “We’ll be going now. Thanks for your time. And we’re so sorry for your loss. But I do need to ask you about the arrangements.”
“Oh, my,” Bella said, confused. “Sammy’s body. Do you know where it is?”
“I do,” the Chief said, handing her a business card. “This is the funeral home in Clay Bay. They have Samantha’s body. Just give them a call, and they will be happy to discuss everything with you.”
“Okay,” she said as her head began to slowly move up and down, then side to side. “I really need Bobbie.”
“We’ll make sure he stops by as soon as possible,” the Chief said.
“Thank you,” she said, launching into a full-on bobblehead. “Are you happy?” she said in a violent whisper. “You monster.”
“We’ll show ourselves out,” I said, grabbing the Chief by the sleeve and pulling him toward the door. “Again, we’re so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Look what you’ve done. Just look at what you’ve done,” Bella whispered through clenched teeth. Her head continued its bizarre movements as she glanced around with a wild look in her eyes. “Monster. Coward. Monster. Coward.”
I dragged Chief Abrams to the door and closed it behind us. We remained on the front porch and continued to hear her monster-coward chant grow louder until it reached a crescendo. Then I did my best lumber down the steps then climbed into the driver seat and waited impatiently for the Chief to get into the vehicle. I backed down the driveway, then headed in the direction of the yellow house.
“Slow down,” the Chief said, reaching into his pocket for his notebook. “Here he comes.”
A red truck was approaching from the other direction, and it slowed when it passed us. The driver gave us the once-over then pulled into the old woman’s driveway. The Chief glanced over his shoulder, and when we were out of sight of the truck, he grabbed his phone and made a call.
“Hey, Tommy. Chief Abrams…Yeah, I’m good. Thanks. Look, I need you to run a tag for me.”
The Chief recited the number of the truck’s license plate then waited quietly, deep in thought.
“Robert Tompkins,” the Chief said as he jotted the name down. “Yeah, a red F-150. That’s the one…No, I don’t need it right now, but if you could run the name and let me know if you get any hits, I’d appreciate it. Thanks, Tommy.”
He put his phone away then turned up the volume on the Keith Jarrett CD that was still playing.
“Wow,” the Chief said after a long pause. “I wonder if she’s always like that, or if the news about her daughter just set her off.”
“I’m gonna go with pretty much always,” I said, checking for road signs that would take us back to Route 11. “Monster, coward. A monster because of how he treated her and Samantha?”
“That would be my guess,” the Chief said.
“Coward because he killed himself.”
“Yeah, that’s gotta be it,” the Chief said, noddi
ng. “How on earth did you make the connection to the beagle?”
“It’s just part of my ongoing efforts to perfect my craft,” I deadpanned.
“Okay, Snoop,” he said, laughing. “Man, that got spooky.”
“Yeah, at one point I was expecting M. Night Shamalamadingdong to jump out from behind the couch and yell cut.”
“Shyamalan,” the Chief said.
“Yeah, I can never pronounce his last name,” I said. “Shouldn’t she be in some sort of institution?”
“I guess as long as she isn’t hurting herself or anyone else, there isn’t much anybody can do,” he said. “And maybe Bobbie is really good with her.”
“You’re wondering if he might have been on that boat, aren’t you?” I said, glancing over at him.
“The thought did cross my mind,” the Chief said. “She said he hadn’t been around to see her for a while.”
“He joined the circus recently as some sort of hired hand, tossed Samantha and the dog off the boat, then quit and came home?” I said, frowning. “It’s a bit of a stretch.”
“It’s a total stretch,” he said. “And why would he do it?”
“Maybe she’s leaving everything to him when she dies,” I said. “And she showed him the letter all excited about Samantha showing up with a surprise.”
“He panics about a possible mother-daughter reconciliation and decides to take Samantha out?” the Chief said. “Yeah, I suppose I can make that work.”
“There’s just one problem with it,” I said. “If the mother has gone thirty years without knowing where her daughter was, how the heck did Bobbie find her?”
“Great question.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda the big one at the moment, isn’t it?”
“What a weird day.”
“And to think you were going to waste it fishing.”
Chapter 11
I took a big bite of chocolate cake, ignored the disapproving glare I was getting from my mother, then gave Chef Claire two thumbs up. Josie took a sip of port, then reached for a second slice.
“Great call on using this port with the chocolate,” Josie said to Chef Claire.
“Thanks,” Chef Claire said, topping off everyone’s glass. “But it’s really not hard to figure that pairing out.”