Murder at the Ostrich Farm

by London Lovett

  I lowered the paper with a sigh. "I can't see it," I said. "He looked like a perfectly harmless man."

  "Yeah, and I thought the guy was as cool as cream while that grouchy woman accused and embarrassed him in front of the entire farm. I don't think I could have kept a lid on my temper in that situation. But maybe he should have let off a little steam. Then he wouldn't have gone off and killed her."

  "He's only been arrested so far, and you know the police are often too quick to judge." I folded up the paper and stuck it in my bag for later. The park loomed ahead. I could see Max's tall head as he leaned against the park fence talking with several of his friends. I sat up straight and squinted toward the group at the park. "Is that Kellan? Yes, it is." I answered myself. For no reason at all, a little flutter of nerves went through me. I'd waved off our chat at the station as casual and forgettable, only I'd had an annoyingly hard time actually forgetting it.

  "Yeah, didn't I mention Ace was coming? He has the day off, and we needed another guy for the game." He looked over at me. "Why do you look so flustered?" he said in a teasing voice.

  I wriggled in the seat, sat up straight and smoothed my finger along the brim of my hat. "I'm not flustered one bit. I was just surprised to see him, that's all."

  "Uh huh, surprised to see I invited a guy that I hang with all the time. I see."

  "Oh shush and park the car."

  Chapter Ten

  The yelling, sprays of sweat and, frankly, language not fit for a lady's ears (and that was just from my brothers) prodded me to move to a far off patch of shade beneath a sprawling oak tree. I'd managed to read half a book and the paper front to back. Aside from the shocking murder at the ostrich farm and a remarkable sale on women's hosiery at the department store, there wasn't much to catch my eye. I'd hoped a quick perusal would help me find possible leads for future cases. Sometimes even the obituaries had interesting notes about a mysterious and unexpected death, but today it was the usual boring cases of heart failure and natural causes. However, one man did fall from a tree where he had been bird watching with a pair of opera glasses. He broke his neck on the way down, but there were numerous horrified witnesses so his death was hardly a mystery.

  Jasper yelled and danced around holding the football signaling that he had scored, even though it was hard to tell exactly what the rules were or where the goal posts were located. But the men seemed to know the answers to both questions. The midday sun was finally getting too intense and after playing so hard, I knew I was staring at a sweat soaked cluster of hungry men.

  Max came trotting over. Even covered in grass and grime, my brother managed to look as if he belonged on the big screen, or, at the very least, a movie poster. It was his life's dream to be on both, but it was proving to be much harder than he thought.

  "Hey, Poppy, a few of us are going to pile into Joe's truck and buy some burgers and sodas." He waited for my response, only I wasn't sure I had one.

  "That's very nice?" I said unsure of how to answer.

  Max took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. Most people got red under the sun, but Max glowed with a deep tan. "Sorry, sis, I guess I didn't finish. Do you want a burger and soda?"

  "Yes, please. Ginger ale and no onions. On the burger, I mean, not in the ginger ale. Do you need some money?"

  "Nah, my treat." He wandered back toward the group. They were huddled and counting burger and soda orders. I had tried to make a point of not watching Kellan while they'd played their game, but I found he was too fun to watch. I'd expected him to be athletic, but he turned out to be nearly as skilled at football as Max, who had starred on the high school team. My brother was sure he'd play in college until a knee injury took him out of the game for good. At least that was what Daddy decided for him. It took Max some time to be on board with it.

  Max, Jasper and a couple of the guys took off to pick up the food. Kellan stayed behind. I found myself discretely checking my pin curls and the angle of my hat. If only I had a tiny mirror hidden in my palm to check makeup. Why on earth was I suddenly primping and worried about smeared lipstick? It was just Kellan.

  His face was a few shades darker from the sun as well as he plopped down on the grass in front of my blanket. "Having a nice day, Duchess?" he pulled a cloth from his pocket but realized it was covered in car grease. He shoved it back into his pocket and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. "Your brother Max sure knows how to play. I guess he was one of those kids in high school who strutted around like a king and had every girl on campus following him."

  I put my book aside and leaned back on my hands. "I'd say that pretty much sums it up. But he was never full of himself," I added.

  "No, I can see that. He sure watches out for Jasper. I still can't believe the crazy story of how Jaz hid himself in your father's traveling trunk to escape an orphanage. Gotta admit, that takes more guts than I've got," he said with a genuine dose of admiration for Jasper.

  "It's hard not to love the kid," I said. "He changed our lives dramatically, yet he fit so seamlessly into the family it was as if he'd been born into it."

  "That's nice," Kellan said as he absently picked at some grass. "Having a family to accept you without conditions." I knew that Kellan's parents had sent him to California, half a country away, to work for his uncle and hopefully stay out of trouble. I'd never asked him much about his family back home in Ohio. It hadn't occurred to me until right then that it was most likely hurtful to be sent away from home.

  "Do you talk to your parents much?" I asked.

  "Not much." He shrugged nonchalantly, but I could tell there was nothing casual about it. "I can play music with grass," he said brightly to change the subject. "Needs just the right blade." He leaned forward and scanned the grass. "Ah ha, here it is." He plucked out an extra long, extra wide piece of grass. He squeezed it between the heels of his hands and blew hard enough to add even more color to his face. A long, high pitched squeal followed. I winced at the sound. He lowered his hand and bowed his head. "Thank you very much. Thank you very much."

  I laughed. "I think you and I have entirely different definitions of music. But I have to say, that is the first time I've heard a sound like that come out of a blade of grass."

  "One of my many talents." He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned back like me. The soles of our shoes faced each other. They were close enough that when he moved and pressed his toes forward, the tip of his shoe touched mine. "Sorry if I caused you any problem last night, Duchess. It seemed like Langston was mad when he pulled out of the station."

  "Samuel gets easily irritated. You have nothing to reproach yourself for. It was just a simple conversation between two friends."

  "Right." He gazed at me with the same intensity as the evening before when he talked about my freckles. "Just a simple conversation between friends." There seemed to be some kind of insinuation behind his words, but he kicked onto the next subject. "Jasper told me what happened at the ostrich farm. Crazy stuff, man. My uncle knows George Dawson. They grew up in the same neighborhood or something like that. Dawson brings his farm trucks all the way to Sinclair's when they need a tune up."

  "Is that right?" I sat forward and my shoes inadvertently touched his again. I scooted discretely back on the blanket to put a little more distance between them. "Poor George Dawson looked positively apoplectic yesterday. Daddy had to hurry him inside to cool off before he collapsed."

  "I'm sure it's not going to be good publicity for the farm. I hear it was one of the hands who the dead woman had embarrassed in front of all the visitors. Jasper was filling me in on the details. That Dawson is a controlling sort of man, runs a tight ship and likes to be listened to. I'll bet he's having a hard time of it. This time, it seems things are out of his control."

  "That's an interesting perspective of the man," I said. "At the farm, he seemed mostly lighthearted and jovial and very fond of his birds."

  "That I'm sure of. I've heard him brag about his flock a few times.
I'm sure he puts on a much friendlier face for the visitors who pay to see his animals."

  "That makes sense, of course." My stomach made an unladylike grumble. My face warmed as I pressed my arm against my tummy. "Guess I'm hungrier than I realized."

  "Me too," Kellan said. "Wish Max was as fast at picking up burgers as he is at running down a football field."

  Chapter Eleven

  I'd spent a ludicrous amount of time tidying up the office, dusting shelves and desks and sweeping the floor. It seemed Jasper and I were back to waiting for a decent case to fall into our laps.

  "Ooh, I hurt bad, sis. I hurt bad." Jasper moved his desk chair for the hundredth time in a futile attempt to ease the pain in his back and limbs.

  "I believe I told you that you were going to regret playing so hard yesterday. A few of Max's friends outweighed you by a good fifty pounds. You got slammed around so much, it's a wonder you can even stand up today. Should I go next door and see if Derek has anything for muscle aches? I'm sure there must be some sort of cream or elixir on the shelves."

  "Nah, Doc already smeared some stinky cream on my shoulders and it didn't help. An extra thick chocolate malt might do the trick though." He smiled and blinked hopefully my direction.

  "I hardly see how a malt will help you with muscle soreness, but if it helps your mood, then I guess I could head over there and order you one."

  The door opened before I could even get change from my purse.

  "Hey there, Birdie." I reached for the box in my desk drawer. "I bought you a souvenir at the ostrich farm." Birdie's entrance had caused Jasper to sit up straight from his slouch. He busied himself with papers on his desk and gritted his teeth against the pain he felt from sitting up straight. My little brother had quite the enduring crush on my blonde haired, blue eyed friend. Her complexion looked especially lovely with the pale blue frock she was wearing. Poor Jasper's love was not returned. Birdie cared for him as a friend, but I was certain she'd never see him as anything but my kid brother.

  "Hello, Birdie," Jasper said as he picked up a pen and pretended to write something important.

  "Hi ya, Jasper." Birdie dashed toward my desk. "I love, love, love presents." I caught Jasper silently reprimanding himself for not bringing her something from the farm.

  Birdie leaned against my desk and whisked away the bow that Mary had tied so neatly around the box. She pulled out the delicate silver tray. "I love it! It's beautiful, and it has an ostrich engraved in it."

  "I thought it would be a perfect place for you to set your thimbles when they aren't on your thumb. You're always complaining about them rolling away."

  "It's perfect for thimbles." She circled around the desk and hugged me. "Thanks for thinking of me."

  I laughed. "It's the least I could do for my best friend and favorite clothes designer."

  Birdie's lips seemed to pillow as if she had something huge to tell me. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "What's going on? It looks as if you're about to burst with some news. Did you finally move up to seamstress in the design studio?"

  She clapped fast three times. "You guessed my secret but that's all right. I'm officially on the design team. Just seamstress apprentice for now, but it's a big step up from coffee girl." We both screamed and hugged and danced around in a circle for several minutes.

  Jasper called my name a few times and cleared his throat loudly. I was sure he just wanted in on the celebration, but when we finally stopped our cheerful spinning, I discovered that we had a customer. And not just any customer. Ruby Dawson was standing inside the office looking thoroughly distraught as she clutched her patent leather purse against her. Her distress was palpable and quite the contrast to our last few moments of pure joy.

  Birdie gave me a quick hug. "We'll talk later. Thanks for the gift."

  Ruby smiled wistfully at the silver souvenir plate as Birdie swept out of the office. Jasper had stood for our guest, but he grimaced as he looked across the room at the extra chair.

  "It's nice to see you, Miss Dawson," I said. "Let me get you a chair." I pulled the chair to sit in front of my desk. "Please, have a seat."

  Ruby sat down demurely and placed her purse on her lap. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time." She motioned toward the door.

  "No, not at all. My friend just dropped by, and I gave her the beautiful silver dish I bought from your wonderful shop."

  "Thank you. I've picked most of the items we carry in the shop. I'm rather proud of the business we do there." She sniffled once and smiled politely at Jasper, who had settled himself back down on his chair.

  "Mr. Starfire"—she nodded at Jasper—"was kind enough to give a worker one of your business cards and I'm afraid—" She sniffled and pulled a handkerchief from her purse. "I'm afraid I have nowhere else to turn." She took a deep breath and scooted forward on the chair. "I don't know if you've seen the paper, but the police made a hasty arrest in regards to Mildred Freemont's death."

  "Yes, I did read in the paper that they've arrested one of your ostrich handlers, Paul Wilkins."

  She blotted her nose and eyes dry. "Yes. I should probably tell you this first, Miss Starfire. Paul Wilkins and I are engaged to be married. It's mostly a secret still. I've been working on getting my father used to the idea, but he can be rather controlling and, well, he has his own ideas on a suitable husband for me." She shook her head once. "I don't need to bore you with that, I just wanted to be up front about my relationship with Paul."

  "Of course, and I appreciate that, Miss Dawson." I rested my forearms on the desk and sat forward. I was more than slightly confused about her visit. It seemed she needed a lawyer and not a private investigator. "How can Starfire Detective Agency be of assistance?"

  She took another deep breath, sat up straighter and confidently tucked her handkerchief back into her purse. "Miss Starfire, I want you to find the real murderer. I want you to find out who framed my fiancé."

  Chapter Twelve

  I'd sent Jasper next door for some cold cherry sodas, and I set to work writing down everything Ruby knew about the police investigation and the day in general.

  I opened my notebook and wrote down the date and the words Case File Dawson. Even though I was working to clear Paul Wilkins' name, Ruby Dawson was my client. "Now, Miss Dawson, I read that evidence at the crime scene led to the arrest. Can you tell me what was found that made them decide it was Paul?"

  The pink in her lips faded slightly, and she stared down at her purse. She looked up. "I know your father and you got a glimpse of—" she paused and swallowed. "I know you saw Mildred Freemont-Keeler after she'd been strangled. By the way, please thank your father for me. He was so helpful at such a terrible time. I was frightened for my father's health."

  "Yes, he didn't look well. And of course I'll tell my father thank you. I know he was glad to help. Now back to what you were saying. Yes, it's true we saw poor Mildred crumpled behind the pyramid. Am I correct in my assumption that the murder weapon was the leather ostrich lead?"

  "Yes, the police concluded without too much pause that Mildred died of strangulation." She rested back some. "The leather strap was one that the handlers use to lead the ostriches around the farm. It's the same one Paul was using to hold an ostrich steady in front of the cart. The souvenir photograph is a park favorite. People come from miles away to have their picture taken with an ostrich. There aren't many other places in the country to see them, as I'm sure you know." She smiled weakly. "I don't know why I just veered off on that topic. I guess it's so ingrained in me to boast about the farm, sometimes it just spills out at inappropriate times."

  The door opened and hot air blasted in. Jasper was walking considerably slower than usual. His feet shuffled across the floor as if he were ninety years old. He placed the cherry soda in front of Ruby and handed one to me. The red rim about his mouth assured me he'd finished his before he walked out of Duffy's.

  "Thank you," Ruby said. She lifted the cup and took several sips. "It's so hot out today.
This is delicious, by the way."

  "Duffy makes the best fountain drinks in town," Jasper crowed before shuffling back to his desk.

  "I confess I don't get out here to the city very often," Ruby said before another sip of soda.

  "Are you telling me then"—I looked down at the one line I'd written so far—"that the police made the arrest based on the one piece of evidence? The leather strap?"

  "Yes, well, no, not exactly." She placed the cup back on the desk. "This is why I think someone tried to frame Paul. His work glove was found in the shrubs lining the back fence, just ten feet from the body."

  "I see." I tapped the pen a few times as I tried to come up with the next question.

  "Couldn't he have dropped it when he was returning an ostrich to the pen?" Jasper asked.

  "Yes, isn't that possible?" I asked.

  Ruby nodded weakly. "It's possible because he keeps them tucked in his back pocket. But the handlers normally just walk the ostriches in through the gate and then release them. The only time they need to go farther into the pen is if there is a problem with one of the birds, an injury or illness. But there was no such issue on Saturday. Paul couldn't explain how the glove got there. He seemed entirely perplexed by it all."

  "I saw Paul stumble out looking slightly bewildered by the entire scene in the pasture," I said. "Where had he been?" I had no reason not to believe Ruby, except it was always hard for a loved one to be impartial, and if they were engaged, then that certainly would qualify her as a loved one.

  It seemed we'd reached an uncomfortable piece of the story. "There was an incident in the area where visitors wait to have their pictures taken in a cart," she started quietly.