Bound for Murder, page 4
“Fine, I guess. They really haven’t said too much.” Sunny turned to me. “Oh, by the way, would you mind stopping by the farm after work today? The grands want to talk to you about something. I don’t know if it has to do with the bones, but they insisted they needed to speak with both of us as soon as possible.”
“Okay, sure,” I said, mentally rearranging my plans. “I’ll just text Aunt Lydia before I leave.”
Sunny looked me over, her forehead furrowed. “And Richard, I assume?”
“Of course, but we weren’t planning to see each other this evening. He has a late rehearsal at Clarion, so he’s going to crash there tonight.” I made a face. “I knew putting that folding cot in his office was a bad idea. Now his dance department colleagues just assume he’ll stay as late as they want, whenever they want.”
“What production is happening this early in the semester?”
“Some sort of charity thing to benefit the dance program’s scholarship fund. No students involved—the instructors are dancing instead.”
“Even Meredith Fox?”
I twitched my lips. Meredith had once been Richard’s fiancée, and even though they’d broken up before we’d met, Sunny occasionally expressed concern over the beautiful auburn-haired dancer having been hired for a full-time position in Richard’s department.
But then again, that might be because she’s still conflicted over her own recent breakup with Brad, especially since he’s already dating someone else.
I studied Sunny’s drawn face. I knew how such disappointments could affect one’s outlook, even if the breakup had been mutual, as it had been in Sunny and Brad’s case. Given her close friendship with both of us, it wasn’t surprising that Sunny would be concerned about anything affecting my relationship with Richard.
But I wasn’t worried. I knew Richard no longer harbored any feelings for Meredith. “Yeah, although she and Richard aren’t performing together this time. He invited Karla to dance with him instead.”
“Cool, but she doesn’t teach at Clarion, does she?”
“He was allowed to bring her in as a guest artist.” I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Richard dancing with his favorite partner from his high school and conservatory days. Since Karla had disappeared from his life after college, it was something that hadn’t happened for years. Fortunately, when they’d finally reconnected, they’d rekindled both their friendship and a new dance collaboration. “They’ll be spectacular, of course. That might put Meredith’s nose out of joint.”
“Which you don’t mind, despite your constant declaration that you’re not worried about her working with Richard,” Sunny said.
“Which I don’t mind, but not for that reason.” I shrugged. “I just find Meredith’s superior attitude a little annoying. I mean, she is beautiful and talented and all, but”—I cast Sunny a warm smile—“so are you, and you don’t act entitled.”
“I had an advantage, being raised by the grands. Since they’re some of the most down-to-earth people on the planet, they never put up with any superior nonsense from me.” Sunny spun her stack of silver bracelets around her wrist. “They never allowed me to become a diva.”
“Which is to their credit. Okay, unfortunately I need to work on some statistics for a town council report. Can you hold down the fort out here?”
“No problem,” Sunny said, her bright eyes shadowed by her golden lashes.
I walked into the workroom and took a deep breath before I pulled the folder off the shelf and carried it over to the computer I used to compile statistics, write reports, and complete other library-related business.
After grabbing a pair of gloves from a cubby above the workstation, I slipped the photo out of its acid-free envelope and studied it again.
Jeremy Adams’s handsome face smiled back at me, unaware of his fate, whatever it had turned out to be.
I pursed my lips and pulled my cell phone from my pocket. Brad Tucker needed to know about this photo, despite the possibility that it might focus the spotlight of suspicion on Carol and P.J. Fields.
Because if Jeremy had ended up dead, and had been ignobly buried in a forgotten grave, he deserved justice. No matter whom that implicated.
I took a deep breath and pressed the key that dialed the chief deputy’s number.
Chapter Four
The wooden sign that identified Sunny’s family farm as Vista View included a brightly colored graphic of a cornucopia filled with vegetables and fruit. Sunny had hand-painted the sign a few years earlier to replace a battered metal nameplate on one of the gateposts.
As I pulled into the driveway, I ignored the knot of people waving their cell phones. Reporters, no doubt lured by the mystery of the bones found on the property. At least they had the decency to stay at the end of the lane rather than trespassing on P.J. and Carol’s property, I thought, as I lowered my head and refused to make eye contact. One female reporter stepped out into the lane, forcing me to stop my car, but a tall, loose-limbed man pulled her back onto the side of the road. As I headed away from them, I glanced in my rearview mirror and caught him admonishing the woman.
Driving up the gravel lane that led to the farmhouse, I calmed my nerves by admiring the neatly cultivated field of vegetable plants on my left and the meadow of orchard grass on my right. Carol and P.J. didn’t believe in raising animals for meat, so they didn’t use much of the hay they bailed from their fields. That allowed them to make a tidy profit selling it to area horse farms, supplementing their income from sales of organic fruits and vegetables.
I parked my car in a small gravel lot next to Sunny’s canary-yellow Volkswagen Beetle and sat for a moment, my gaze fastened on the house but my thoughts drifting elsewhere. I’d dropped by Brad Tucker’s office to show him Jeremy Adams’s photo on my way to the farm. He’d thanked me for my help but had also asked me to continue my research, since he was not convinced the skeleton belonged to Jeremy, even if I seemed to think that was the case.
Why I felt so strongly about this, I couldn’t really explain to Brad, or even to myself. Somehow it was as if Jeremy’s photo had spoken to me, telling me it was his body that had been discovered at Vista View. It was irrational, of course, but I’d experienced enough strange sensations like this over the past few years to listen to that mysterious voice in my head. Especially where murders were concerned.
I sighed as I opened my car door. Brad had also asked me to share anything I might hear that could have a bearing on the case. I’d agreed, even knowing that I might have to make a difficult choice if Carol or P.J. said anything that could connect them with the investigation. I climbed out of my car, not sure I had made the right choice in agreeing to meet with my friends today.
The two-story farmhouse was a square box of a building, its simple wooden-siding facade enlivened by vivid yellow paint and delft-blue shutters. As I made my way to the front porch, I dodged a cluster of free-range chickens. Carol didn’t believe in cooping up her hens, except at night, so stumbling over a few in the front yard was something I’d learned to expect.
“Hello,” I called out as I entered the house through the unlocked front door. “It’s just Amy.”
An older woman hurried from the back of the house to greet me. “Nonsense. You’re not just an anything,” Carol Fields said. “Now come along, dear. We’re all in the kitchen. I’ve put Sunny to work making pies.”
“You too? I must warn you that Aunt Lydia is testing out recipes as well.” I followed her short, plump figure down the hall. Sunny had inherited Carol’s fair complexion, light hair, and blue eyes, but she’d gotten her slender frame and height from her grandfather. Carol was even shorter than me, and I was slightly below average height for a woman.
“Well, Lydia is a tough one to beat, and then there’s Jane Tucker. They seem to alternate wins from year to year. I think Jane took home the largest number of blue ribbons last year, so I imagine Lydia is determined to best her this go-round.” Carol shot me a smile as we entered the kitchen. “But maybe I’ll be the dark horse this year and spoil both their plans.”
“Hello, Amy, thanks for stopping by. I hope that flock of vultures at the end of the lane didn’t pester you too much,” said P.J. Fields, who was standing in the doorway that led to the pantry.
“No, but I’m sorry to see them camped out on your property,” I replied. “That has to be nerve-racking.”
With the swift efficiency of someone practiced in changing the subject, Carol spoke up, her voice so bright it was brittle. “So how goes the wedding planning?”
“Don’t ask,” I replied, a little more sharply than I’d intended.
Sunny, who was using her thumb and forefinger to create a scalloped edge on a pie crust, paused midpinch. She wrinkled her flour-dusted nose as she glanced from me to Carol. “Uh-oh, you’ve touched a sore spot, Grandma.”
I shook out my tensed hands and joined Sunny at the yellow Formica-topped kitchen table. “Here, let me help.” I grabbed a wooden rolling pin to flatten a ball of dough sitting on a piece of waxed paper. After a few moments spent exorcising my demons by rolling out the pastry, I looked up at Sunny’s grandmother. “And sorry, Carol, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that everyone seems so concerned about my ability to handle my own affairs. It’s like, just because I’m engaged, they think I’ve lost all capacity for logical thought.”
Carol shoved a short strand of white hair behind her ear before crossing to one of the kitchen’s aqua-blue counters. “No need to explain, dear. I know how nosy people can be.” She glanced over at the pantry door, where her tall, skinny husband still had his back pressed against the doorjamb.
“Who’s telling you how to arrange the wedding now?” P.J. asked, hooking his thumbs around the straps of his loose denim overalls.
“You mean besides my future mother-in-law, who keeps sending cryptic texts about choosing gold or silver chargers, as well as photos of far-too-expensive venues?” I grinned as Sunny made a face. “Mrs. Dinterman at the library yesterday, and someone at church on Sunday.”
“Really?” P.J.’s gray eyes widened. “Not during the service, I hope.”
“They weren’t quite that bold. Aunt Lydia and I were just leaving when Mrs. Jordan cornered me and laid out all the rules for using the sanctuary for weddings. I found out later that she’s just been elected as a deacon. I guess she assumed I’d want to get married at Aunt Lydia’s church, but really”—I pressed the solid wood rolling pin with so much force that dough squeezed out between the edges of the waxed paper enclosing the pastry—“I don’t have any idea how she even knew I was engaged.”
Sunny’s eyes sparkled with good humor. “Amy, this is Taylorsford. Surely you realize that everyone in town knows you and Richard are getting married.” She tossed her long blonde braid behind her shoulders. “It’s the most interesting news in Taylorsford since that last murder. Two thirty-something neighbors getting engaged, and one of them is Lydia Talbot’s niece and the other is Paul Dassin’s great-nephew? It’s like a fairy tale. So darned romantic.” Sunny shot me a roguish grin.
I frowned as I peeled the waxed paper away from my circle of dough. Sliding the translucent crust over the sugar- and cinnamon-dusted apples in the pie pan would be tricky. “Of course, what was I thinking? If nothing else, I’m sure Zelda spread the news far and wide.”
Carol grabbed a pair of oven mitts off the counter. “No doubt about that.”
“But at least it’s good news. Now”—P.J. straightened and flashed a toothy smile—“we need to find a match for you, Miss Sunshine Fields.”
Sunny shook her head. “As I’ve told you guys more than once, I don’t want to marry anyone. Especially now that Amy’s snagged the best guy in town.”
I squinted in concentration as I maneuvered the pastry dough over the mound of fruit filling the bottom crust. “You had your chance, but as you informed me early on, you were only interested in Richard as a friend. I’m sure if you’d actually made a play for him, things might’ve turned out differently.”
Sunny snorted. “Like that would’ve happened. He only had eyes for you from the moment he met us at the library. Anyway, right now I’m more interested in getting elected mayor than in dating.” She cast me a significant glance. “I actually just received a rather magnanimous campaign donation.”
“Oh, who from?” Carol asked as she crossed to the oven and popped open the door. “Darn it, I forgot again.” She slapped her forehead with her mitt-covered hand. “I should’ve moved these racks around before I preheated the oven. It seems like I’m always doing stuff like that these days.”
“Too much on your mind, I guess,” I said, eyeing her with concern. Carol and P.J. were only in their midseventies, but I sometimes wondered if the effort required to run Vista View was taking a toll on their health. And now with all this furor over the bones found on the farm … I lifted my filled pie tin and carried it over to the counter next to the stove.
Sunny handed her own completed pie to Carol. “The donor was Kurt Kendrick, of all people. A pretty healthy sum, too. It will help a lot with our advertising.”
I thought I saw Carol’s shoulders tense as she slid the pies onto the rearranged oven racks. “My goodness, is that so? I must admit, he’s the last person I would’ve expected.” She straightened, but kept her back to us as she set the oven timer.
Walking past P.J. to head for the sink to wash my hands, I noticed how tightly his fingers clutched his overall straps. “Anyway,” I said, “It’s not that surprising. Kurt actively dislikes Bob Blackstone, so it isn’t such a stretch.”
“Maybe.” P.J. strode over to the kitchen table and yanked out one of the chrome-framed chairs. “But you have to admit, it’s odd. Never met the guy, but from what I’ve heard, that Kendrick fellow doesn’t really seem like the type to get involved in ordinary town business.” He dropped into the chair and motioned to the seat next to him. “Come and take a load off, Sunny-girl. You’ve earned a little break.”
“And you want to talk to me about something,” Sunny said, dusting the flour from her hands as she sat down.
After drying my own hands on a gingham kitchen towel, I leaned back against the weathered pine cabinets that lined one wall of the kitchen. “Me too, according to what Sunny told me. What’s up?”
Carol fanned her flushed face with both hands. I couldn’t blame her. Although it was September, the weather was stuck in summer mode. “First, can you adjust the temp on that thing, Amy?” She pointed at the air conditioner filling the lower half of a kitchen window. “I wish we could put in central air, but the ductwork would cost a fortune.”
At the window, I fiddled with the knob on the clunky window unit. It rumbled ominously for a moment before cold air blasted my face. Carol and P.J. could really use a new air conditioner, but that wouldn’t happen. They had a mantra—Make do with little, make things last, don’t give capitalists the cash. I’d heard them express that sentiment so many times, I could’ve repeated it in my sleep.
“I’m guessing you need our help with searching old records or something,” I said as I joined them at the kitchen table.
“Yeah, what’s the deal?” Sunny fiddled with the tassels decorating the ends of the braided ties on her peasant blouse.
Carol traced a crack in the yolk-colored tabletop with one finger. “Well, P.J. and I just thought, you two being such great researchers and all, that maybe you could help us with a little investigation.”
I took a seat at the table next to Carol, across from Sunny and her grandfather. “Related to that skeleton?”
“Yes, but not directly,” P.J. replied. “We’re actually more interested in tracking down some former members of our old commune.”
I slid to the edge of my seat, my curiosity piqued. “Why’s that?”
“To warn them, of course.” Sunny sat back, looking from Carol to P.J. “That’s what you want to do, right?”
“Yes,” P.J. said. “We don’t want them to be blindsided, especially if the authorities start poking around in the past.”
I arched my eyebrows. “In case they have something to hide?”
Carol tapped the table with her short fingernails. “No, and don’t you go putting that idea in anyone’s head. We don’t suspect our old friends of anything. We just don’t like the idea that the cops might catch them unaware and interrogate them over something they don’t have a clue about.”
I managed to meet Sunny’s amused gaze with a smile, but inside my stomach did a little flip. Carol and P.J. were playing innocent, but I could see the tension tightening their lips and jaws, even if Sunny was too blinded by her trust in them to see it.
They are definitely hiding something. I twisted my hands in my lap, wondering if they already had an inkling that the authorities suspected foul play in Jeremy’s death.
“We have a list.” P.J. pulled a folded piece of notebook paper from his pocket. “There’s a lot of names on here, but we’re only really interested in the starred ones. They were the folks that lived on the commune for any length of time. There’s only about six of those—a few are dead, and the rest were transients, just staying for a night or two. I don’t think there’s any way to track that group down, and I expect most of those gave us fake names anyway. But all the starred ones lived here for at a least a year.”
I took the worn piece of paper from him and carefully unfolded it. The ink was faded, but I could read the names. “Some of these people still live in the area, don’t they? I recognize Pete O’Malley and Ruth Lee, who apparently called herself Rainbow back then, according to your notes on this list.”
“Yes, and I suppose we could reach out to them ourselves, but …” Carol’s blue eyes glistened with welling tears. “The thing is, we know the authorities are probably keeping tabs on us right now, and those horrible reporters are definitely watching our every move. We thought it would be better if you could help Sunny track them down—and then, Amy, you could go alone and speak with them.” She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her apron and dabbed at her eyes. “Sorry. This isn’t the way I ever pictured a reunion of the old commune crowd.”
