A Lethal Time

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 4

A Novel

by

Peggy A. Edelheit

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Lethal Time: A Samantha Jamison Mystery, Volume 4
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ISBN: 978-1-938135-53-8 (eBook)
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Version 2012.05.24

Chase your Dreams

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With Special Love to Bob

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To Marc, Aaron & Jonathan

A Special Thanks To My Editor

Winslow Eliot

Publisher

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A Lethal Time

A Samantha Jamison Mystery

Volume 4

Chapter 1

Hey, Someone Stole My Woods!

I lifted my head off the pillow when I heard a phone ringing. It was mine. I glanced at the clock. It was 6:35 a.m. I waited a beat, trying to focus, looked over at a dead-to-the-world Clay, and finally grabbed it.

“Hello,” I whispered sleepily, while yawning.

“Someone just stole my woods!” shouted a woman on the other end of the line. “You have got to help me, now!”

I sat up and shook my head to gather my thoughts. What did she just say to me? Had I heard correctly?

“Excuse me? I think you’ve got the wrong phone number,” I said, fuzzily.

“You are Samantha Jamison aren’t you?”

I sat there still in my sleep-induced stupor.

Was I? Well of course I was! “…Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, I was told you were real good at figuring out unusual mysteries, so you have got to help me. Someone has stolen my woods!”

I held the phone away from myself and stared at it, then put it back to my ear. “Is this some kind of prank call?”

“Does this sound like one?” cried the hysterical woman on the other end of the line.

I couldn’t believe I was still having this conversation with someone at… I looked over at the clock ...6:40 a.m. “You do sound a little off the charts,” I said doubtfully, not wanting to be rude.

“Well, I’m Sarah Smith. We’re descendants of the original Smiths that arrived on the Mayflower!”

I shook my head in disbelief. I doubted that. “Okay, the Ms. Sarah Smith. How about I call you back in about an hour or two and you can explain further, okay?” I was about to hang up the phone on this lunatic when…

“No wait! I’m not some nut.”

She could have fooled me.

“I am Sally and Tom’s neighbor down the road. My property is on the corner after you make a left heading toward Robinson’s, her other neighbor, off that dirt road.”

I paused. …Was she legitimate?

“Take down my number and please call me later.”

To humor her, I did just that, and then fell back to the pillow, irritated and baffled from the conversation. Was the woman for real? Was she nuts? Was I crazy to even consider calling her back? I have heard some strange things in my time, but this one was really weird.

How could someone steal someone else’s woods?

…Let me stop right here. I think that before I go any further, I’d better take you back to the very beginning of this story and explain how I got here and how all this craziness started in the first place.

It was about two days ago…

Chapter 2

Arriving In Style

First, as a quick update, I have to preface this by saying that when I suggested to Clay we go somewhere remote and quiet to relax when we left the French Riviera the week before, I heard interesting news from Martine regarding the French villa at 86 Avenue du Goulet where I had stayed.

Martine said that since the garden mystery was finally solved, Curat’s estate was being broken up into two properties with buyers already waiting in the wings. One was going to renovate the original villa, and the other was going to build a new villa. Each one would have new pools. By doing this, the old gardens would be torn up and the secrets they once held would be permanently buried.

As a novelist who seemed to continuously fall into unusual mysteries such as that French one, I thought by agreeing to go on this trip to New Hampshire I was probably conned by Clay’s casual suggestion of a location plus Crystal’s surprising offer a week earlier. But nothing connected at the time they were both brought up.

Crystal said she thought of me when the opportunity arose from her cousin, Sally, who had begged Crystal, via her cell phone, for a name of someone reputable to housesit her farm in Sanbornton, New Hampshire. I finally accepted, flattered Crystal thought of me as reputable.

Me, reputable? Why of course! Come on…really…I was.

My friend, Crystal was the owner of Crystal Cleaners, an Ocean City, New Jersey cleaning service. I met her there after renting a beach house in early spring to write my second book, which turned out to be Without Any Warning. We became friends. So when I left for the French Riviera, she eagerly accepted my spontaneous invite.

The phrase ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ might be suitable to some, but in France, although time flew by, ‘chaotic’ was more apropos for what happened, which also included my three senior troublemakers, Martha, who ran my antique shop back in Highlands, North Carolina, and Hazel and Betty, who both worked at one of that town’s bookstores, called The Bookworm, and of course, the last to arrive unexpectedly, Clay himself, the owner of that bookstore and player in other questionable ventures, which also included a slightly controversial investigative business.

After a bumpy start when Clay first arrived in France, he and I sort of temporarily settled things between us. That was why, at Clay’s suggestion, we were here for a getaway in scenic New Hampshire, to have some private time to figure out where we stood, or didn’t stand, with each other.

As it all came to a final conclusion on the Riviera and we were leaving to go back to the States, that was when Crystal asked me for this special favor for her cousin, Sally, already knowing it didn’t matter where I stayed, as long as I had the internet, my laptop, and a ‘quiet’ place to write.

My agent and editor laughed and wished me good luck.

I weighed the pros and cons. Needless to say, the pros won out. Sally was offering her New England colonial farm for free if I would look after a few horses and her house while she traveled with her husband, Tom, on business. So I figured, hey, how hard could that be? Plus, I could start my next novel in an idyllic setting. But right then and there I should have been suspicious when Clay voiced sudden interest, saying the timing couldn’t have been better.

Now that I was in New Hampshire a week later, this was my aha moment when it finally dawned on me why Clay suggested this spot in the first place for our getaway, which happened to include his Harley and the motorcycle rally.

Coincidence? Had Crystal & Clay conspired on this?

Clay had said we’d cruise through Laconia first because he wanted to see Weirs Beach, the rally headquarters, and then we would ride up along Lake Winnipesaukee to Meredith. After a few hours checking out everything and briefly stopping at the Harley dealer, we would then swing back down Route 93 to Sanbornton and head over to Sally’s farm to get acclimated and unpacked. The whole side trip was one big loop.

We eased alongside one of those riders on the congested route. His blonde-streaked ponytail caught my attention. It wasn’t quite as long as my blonde one, but still hung down his back below his tied bandana, which apparently complimented his sunglasses, tattoos, torn jeans, and scuffed, black leather boots. He also wore what looked like a small ruby stone in his right earlobe.

Now, that was an unusual-looking stone for a man.

For all I knew, he was probably a doctor, lawyer, or CEO, who wore long-sleeved shirts in the real world.

When we rolled to a stop at a light, I was able to lean into Clay’s ear, saying, “Looks like that’s the usual attire.”

“It’s typical,” said Clay. “Welcome to Laconia, New Hampshire’s famous motorcycle rally, Sam.”

The traffic light turned green and we crossed the busy intersection. Clay’s Harley once again became swallowed up among the thousands of other motorcycles in attendance for the rally that was held there every year.

He explained the first small rally was held in 1916 and as the event slowly grew in popularity, it became one of the top three motorcycle rallies in the country, and was, perhaps, the oldest. People came from everywhere. One year, Clay saw a map that was set up in Weirs Beach with stickpins representing states and countries where visitors were from. According to him, we were lucky to catch the tail end of the rally, which had only five days left.

My opinion wasn’t in yet on that lucky part, though.

I mean, come on, remote yes, plus quiet and relaxing? We were riding in the middle of all these motorcycles that were rumbling through every conceivable street and thoroughfare for the races, tattoos, clothes, leather goods, parades, and whatever else bikers’ hearts desired. Which, when thinking on that particular aspect of it, and after seeing a few of those participants, I didn’t really want to know what their heart desired …only Clay’s.

After riding on the back of Clay’s motorcycle for hours on end, I was stiff and hoped I could walk when I finally got off. Even though in my thirties, after a while, every pothole and bump we hit along the way took their toll.

A massage and a hot bath were just what my achy body needed. I already had the bath angle figured out, packing bath salts in my luggage. And even though he may rub me the wrong way every once in a while, on the massage side of the equation, and with those hands of his, trust me, Clay had skills way beyond selling books or being a PI. Plus, I was determined this trip was going to be different.

But still…

My past experiences told me that was wishful thinking.

Chapter 3

Living Large

Always thinking ahead, Clay had our bags shipped via UPS. We finally arrived at Sally’s and made our way up the gravel driveway, which looked about five hundred feet long and was bordered by hand-stacked stone rows that were roughly three feet high, just like those picturesque postcards of New England you always see in the stores.

This was not what I had in mind when picturing a quaint colonial farm. It had to be over seven thousand square feet with an attached, multistoried barn that looked around ten thousand square feet. Crystal had said the barn was over a hundred years old, but never mentioned the actual size.

This white colonial with its black shutters was a pleasant surprise and revealed another side of Crystal of which I was totally unaware. Apparently, contrary to her husband’s side, her side of the family appeared normal and successful. I smiled at how timely it was to have stepped into this. Yes, sir, things were now definitely looking up in the lodging department. So I relaxed at the prospect of a laid-back time.

We pulled into the upper parking area by the front door. I gave a final sigh of relief and began stretching to get everything back in place. A man emerged from the main barn door and headed directly toward us. He had to be the groundskeeper, Dan, because, according to Crystal’s last text to me Sally and Tom had already left for their trip.

I was told Dan’s apartment was tucked away on the second and third floor of the barn. I looked all around. From that perch, he had a sweeping view of the mountain across the way as well as much of the farm’s property.

Clay swung himself off the bike and offered his hand to help me off, and then turned to the groundskeeper. “Hi, you must be Dan. This is Samantha Jamison and I’m Clay Masters. We’re here to housesit for Sally and Tom.”

I’m guessing Dan was in his late fifties, had a receding hairline and medium build. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and was dressed in well-worn jeans, shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, and working boots. He extended his hand and gave us a big smile in response.

“Perfect timing. I’m off to visit my sister who’s sick in Connecticut,” he said. “Nothing serious. I’ll be back in a week. I left instructions on the kitchen counter, in addition to the ones left by Sally. Oh, and your luggage arrived, so I put it upstairs in the hallway outside your room. Sally’s instructions are pretty much self-explanatory, but just in case, I’ll walk you through the barn to explain about the three horses and show you where their supplies are kept.”

About an hour later, we stood watching Dan’s pickup truck disappear around the corner after exiting the long drive. We turned back to look at the house and smiled.

“After you, Sam,” said Clay, gesturing toward the door.

“Wow,” was all I was able to come up with. The house was traditionally decorated with a sprinkling of antiques here and there. The fully equipped kitchen with commercial gas stove and large granite island was impressive, as was the attached family room with its river-stone fireplace, sixty-inch satellite TV, French doors overlooking the back fields, and fenced-in pastures, complete with horses grazing in the distance. I looked at Clay and grinned.

“I can do this. It’s a piece of cake!”

Like before, what were the odds I’d regret saying that?

Chapter 4

Planning A Strategy

We wandered around for an hour or so, marveling at the house and what it offered. Then I reluctantly climbed back onto Clay’s Harley to get some groceries. Since we both loved cooking, there was a lot of good-natured bantering going back and forth as to who would cook dinner. A compromise was finally struck when both of us decided we would cook together, an experiment in compatibility.

After returning, we unpacked, prepared Beef Medallions in red wine with salad, and then sat in front of a small fire sipping the leftover wine from dinner, a Côtes du Rhône.

Clay held up his glass. “Here’s to a trip to remember.”

I joined in. “I hope it’s worth remembering.”

He frowned. “And what was that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “When dealing with you, nothing is sacred and nothing is taken for granted.”

Clay gave me a sly grin. “You catch on fast.”

I started to yawn. “So, what’s on our agenda?”

His eyes seared mine. “I know what’s on my agenda.”

I was about to speak when something crashed through the window, flying past my head as I ducked. Clay jumped up, quickly ran over to the door, and swung it open, while switching on the outdoor lights to see where it came from.

I was at his side in a heartbeat. “What was that?”

We watched as a set of taillights, already in the distance, turned right at the end of Sally’s driveway.

Clay nudged me. “Does anyone know you are here?”

I became annoyed in a flash. “Why ask me that?”

“Because you seem to be a magnet for trouble.”

I became defensive. “Well, what about you? I heard you have an enemy or two.”

He smiled. “Yeah, but no one knows I’m here.”

“Well, where do they think you are?”

“Back in Highlands at The Bookworm,” he shot back sarcastically. “You know, where my bookstore is located?”

I turned away from the door. “Hah! Likely story.”

He mumbled something, and then followed me into the house after bolting the door. “A guy has to make a living.”

“Yeah, and if I’m not mistaken, selling books lately hasn’t exactly been lucrative, has it?”

He conceded the point by nodding and quickly chose neutral territory. “Let’s go see what damage was done.”

We headed over to have a look. Clay reached down and picked up a rock. “Hey, there’s a message attached.”

I ripped it out of his hands. “Let me see.”

“Well, what does it say?” he asked impatiently.

“This doesn’t make sense. All it says is, ‘If you value your horses, don’t mess with Robinson’s house.’”

Who was Robinson? Why were Sally’s horses involved?

Chapter 5

No Recourse & The Last Course!

While Clay boarded up the window, I made a quick phone call to Sally. After several minutes, I hung up and rejoined Clay. “It appears this Robinson guy was the owner of the property adjacent to this one. Sally bought it about a month ago with plans to increase her acreage and add an indoor riding arena with more facilities and some pastures.”

“Sounds reasonable,” said Clay. “But why the rock?”

“Evidently some locals were against it, especially after someone spread a false rumor she wanted to put in a landing pad for her husband’s helicopter trips to the city.”

“Does she want us to report the incident?”

“No. She doesn’t want to take that route, yet.”

“Why not? I think the authorities should know.”

“She wants us to check out Robinson’s property first.”

“What for?” he asked. “I thought we were housesitting.”

“She feels the sale of the property to her and Tom has suddenly drawn negative interest, but she can’t believe it’s just that rumor. This rock-throwing incident is something more and might be lingering anger.”

Clay grimaced. “Does this involve any digging?”

I laughed. “Only for unusual info that might be valuable or historical. Robinson’s house is old, built around 1779. Robinson died suddenly in a nursing home and his estate listed it for sale because his relatives had no interest in the property or its contents. Before they changed their minds, Sally scooped it up, not wanting someone else or a motivated builder to take advantage, buy it, and then build a development running alongside the back of hers.”

“Was a builder interested in the property?”

“According to her, yes, a local guy. He was lowballing the relatives, knowing they were extremely eager to dump the property and all its contents for some quick cash.”

“You mean even Robinson’s clothes are still there?”

“According to Sally, like the day he left for the home.”

Clay gave it some thought. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to pay a visit to Robinson’s property to see what’s going on over there in the morning. It might be nothing at all.”

I nodded. “It would ease her concerns. She said Tom’s too busy running his computer business to check it out. It’s just a feeling she has that something isn’t right.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Apparently, flickering lights were spotted twice by a neighbor, which made Sally uncomfortable because from the time when Robinson died, that house has been locked for a quite a while, and boarded up since closing, still is.”

“Maybe it’s an electrical short.”

“Can’t be. Sally has all the electricity shut off.”

“Then that flickering light must be a flashlight. Have the police checked it out?”

“Yes, but only the exterior. Since it was cross-boarded up with the windows locked and still secure, they let it go. And because of those flickering lights, Sally’s uneasy about going there alone.”

“In that case, we’ll get an early start in the morning to find out how someone might be getting inside.”

I got up from the leather couch and headed for the stairs, but Clay quickly snagged me back, giving me an evil grin.

“What?” I asked, startled. “Did I forget something?”

“Yeah, me,” he said, laughing, and then scooped me up into his arms. “We’ve got unfinished business, remember?”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “And what might that be?”

“Here’s a little clue,” said tall, lean and handsome, Clay.

Then he offered me one of his oh, so lethal kisses.

I came up for air, breathless.

If I had any socks on, they would have been knocked off!

“That was some clue!” I said, slowly running my fingers through his dark hair with a wicked look in my eye.

“We forgot dessert,” he whispered.

I pointed to the stairs. “Why, that’s my favorite course!”

Oh, I had a real bad sweet tooth.

Chapter 6

Creepy Doesn’t Even Cover It

We slowly began walking the perimeter of Robinson’s house, shoving back tall weeds and ribbon grass. We were wearing jeans, shirts with protective long sleeves, and boots. Sally said that until they could start renovations, the front door would stay boarded up. It was too close to the road and a constant temptation to burglars. Seeing nothing disturbed, or any forced entry, we headed for the back door.

I fiddled with the key Sally said could be found in her nightstand and slid it into the heavy padlock. Already knowing the electricity was off I was hesitant to see what was on the other side of the peeling door and dim interior.

Wary of the clumps of spider webs too close for my comfort, creeping overgrowth, and tangled vines snagging my jeans, I wasn’t overly comfortable with what we were about to do. I sighed at the sight of the perennial gardens now smothered and overgrown with tall, spiky weeds.

“What a mess.”

Clay turned to survey the overgrowth. “How long was Robinson in a nursing home and his house left vacant?”

“Sally said he had Alzheimer’s and was in the home at least a year before he suddenly passed.”

“Didn’t anyone visit or care what was going on here?”

“Apparently not. He was on his own. His relatives in Boston were only interested in what was in it for them. You know, the cash angle, and were waiting for him to die. Rumor has it that, after bickering among themselves about price, they immediately put the house on the market.”

Why did everyone ignore Robinson?

Clay turned back to me. “Did he have a wife?”

“According to Sally, he was an older bachelor, a retired history professor, who in the past used to teach at a college in Vermont, a real loner. His mother lived with him until she passed away about twenty years ago.”

“So why was he such a pariah to the rest of the family that no one was interested in his well-being?”

“Indifference? Maybe something they didn’t like?”

“Or maybe he was somebody they didn’t like.”

I thought about that. “Any of it’s possible. Hopefully we’ll get a better impression about him once we’re inside.”

With our plastic gloves already on, Clay said, “Ready?”

“I guess so.” I turned the key and heard the click.

Clay gave the door a shove, which was warped from the dampness flooding the interior. “Ugh,” he said, opening it.

I felt the same way. The air was stagnant and smelled of mildew, rot and something else. “Clay, what’s that smell?”

He held a hand up, stopping me. “Don’t go any further.”

It was a foul odor, unlike anything I have ever smelled before. It left me breathless and slightly nauseous. I looked down. There were dead flies everywhere we stepped.

Clay walked further into the musty house and I followed closely at his heels. In seconds, he abruptly whirled around to face me. “Didn’t I politely ask you to stay put?”

I looked up at him defiantly. “You and who else?”

He sighed, then said, “At least stay behind me.”

“Okay.” I trailed one step behind him through the living room, hallway, dining room, and then back to the kitchen. Nothing. Then we climbed the narrow stairway, while dust motes floated around us. Taking shallow breaths helped the gagging sensation that had unexpectedly gripped me.

The higher we climbed the smell became more intense. At one point, we had to pivot as the steps angled sharply, while watching our footing when the treads narrowed, then ducked our heads just before it opened up to the tiny second floor landing. After a few paces, Clay stopped and listened. Silence. Then we cautiously stepped into the first bedroom which appeared to have been deserted ages ago.

An old silver comb and brush set lay on the mahogany dresser on top of yellowed doilies over the dust-laden surface. A few faded dresses hung from a hook on the wall. I stared at the flaking, water-stained, floral wallpaper barely clinging to the walls. Could this have been Robinson’s mother’s room? It was creepy the way it was preserved like a shrine, especially since she had died decades before.

We rounded a corner and Clay stopped short, putting his hand out to stop me. “Hold up, Sam.”

“What?”

“A dead raccoon. I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

“So that’s the smell! I guess it was bound to happen because the old house was unoccupied for so long. Hey, what’s the problem? Why can’t I look?”

“Because it’s a bloody mess!”

Chapter 7

The Victims

I figured it couldn’t be that bad and peered around Clay to see for myself. “Oh!” I said shakily, stepping back.

He grabbed my arm to steady me. “Are you okay?”

I was sickened by the grizzly scene before us as several annoying flies buzzed around. “Look at all that blood!” It was splattered on every conceivable surface surrounding the battered raccoon, including the wall. “Who did this?”

“Obviously someone who doesn’t like raccoons.”

I turned, trying not to dwell on the visuals, needing an out and ventured away from Clay while he looked around the room, opening drawers. With my hand over my nose, I left him and continued on to the next room.

There wasn’t a real hallway on the second floor. You walked through one room to the next, all having narrow doors and low ceilings. The next room was similar in size, but had discarded clothing strewn about mixed with several bird-watching magazines.

Was this Robinson’s room and this his hobby?

I moved on to what was the only bathroom in the house and stopped cold, my hand dropping to my side in shock.

“Uh, oh. Clay, I found something.”

“What?” he yelled from the other room.

“It’s in the bathtub.”

His voice was getting closer to me. “What is?”

“The dead guy who forgot to take his clothes off.”

Clay rounded the corner, edged by me, and then leaned over the shabbily-dressed man. “Call the police, Sam.”

“Vagrant?” I asked, again covering my nose and mouth.

“Most likely. Word spreads fast when a house is left unattended and vacant for such a long time.”

Singlehandedly, I grabbed my cell and called, while Clay began searching through some of the man’s pockets.

“Hmm,” he mumbled as I reported the address.

“What?” I asked after hanging up.

Clay turned to look at me, while shoving away an empty whiskey bottle. “You do not see me doing this, do you?”

I thought that over, thinking Clay must know what he was doing. I was curious, too, but still…“Are you sure?”

“Trust me,” he said, searching, but after a minute, he came up empty. “Nothing, just that nasty bite on his arm.”

An hour later, the police carried old Harry in a body bag down the narrow stairs. He was the local vagrant they hadn’t seen around the last few days. He was still holding the bloody stick he’d used to fight off the probably rabid raccoon, and died while drinking and still on guard.

They would do the necessary tests, but it sure looked that way to the police officer. They were well aware of the vacant house, constantly chasing kids away, and glad Sally and Tom had bought it to finally clean the place up.

Being a small town, and after some questions about what we found, and showing identification to verify who we were, the police then checked us out via phone with Sally and Tom, who they knew personally. We were then politely asked to leave. They said once the raccoon was taken away and pictures were shot of the scene, we could come back to finish going through the rest of the house for Sally and Tom. And as far as the deaths were concerned, this time it appeared to be nothing more than an unfortunate run-in between a vagrant and a rabid raccoon.

Chapter 8

Digesting Disappointment & Surprises

Reluctantly, we returned home, both of us disappointed that we weren’t allowed to continue further our search of Robinson’s house. It would have to wait until later. I doubted we would find much more anyway. The house appeared as though it had been gone through, most likely by relatives looking for anything valuable, and of course, poor dead Harry, probably looking for anything wearable.

Still, I was chafing at the bit to get back. Clay was more reasonable. He reminded me that if we made a big stink, the authorities might take a much closer look. For now, the local police were satisfied it was a B & E by a vagrant, ‘a likable one at that,’ they said.

When we returned to Sally’s farmhouse, we saw two Harley motorcycles parked in the upper graveled area. We parked alongside them and got off Clay’s Harley, curious and looking around for who arrived while we were gone. Within seconds, I heard voices traveling from the back of the house through the breezeway that attached to the old barn. Walking ahead of me, Clay stopped short and turned back wearing an odd look, and then he grinned.

I was still clueless. “What gives?”

He gave me a knowing wink. “We’ve got company.”

As I got closer, I realized why Clay was smiling. I tried to keep it neutral when I saw them, but couldn’t pull it off. The visuals alone were priceless. I started laughing, already mentally typing for future use what I was staring at.

“Well, ain’t these some digs,” said that familiar voice.

In her early seventies, Martha was like that loose thread on your sweater. Once you were snagged, eventually everything began unraveling, including your sanity.

Right behind Martha was Crystal, then Hazel and Betty. Now, I don’t know if any of you have seen any of those spaghetti westerns Clint Eastwood starred in, but I thought I was looking at one, checking out Hazel and Betty, who wore long western style coats like his and…goggles?

I laughed once again. “Well, this is a surprise,” I said, hugging each one of them. “Did you ride all the way here?”

Martha laughed. “Why? Does my hair look messed up?”

Now, that was a loaded question, I thought staring at her spiky-white hair. That’s when I noticed her leather chaps.

“Tell me you didn’t drive one of these motorcycles!”

“That’s right. I just got it, figuring, if I can drive a moped, I’d step up to a Harley. Life is too short!”

Crystal, swinging her brown ponytail and wearing her usual tight jeans, tee, leather vest, and traveling tattoos, said, “Now, did you seriously think I could pass up an opportunity for this motorcycle rally with all these empty bedrooms at my cousin’s just waiting to be occupied?”

“My, my, Samantha,” said Hazel, her well-manicured chubby fingers combing through her gray, curly hair. “This place is perfect! I sure need a rest after riding with Martha.”

Betty, taller and on the lean side, methodically removed her goggles and smoothed back her gray-streaked bun.

“You lost the bet, remember, Hazel? Loser rode with Evil Knievel here,” she said, nodding toward Martha.

Lately, to my surprise, I’d discovered those two sweet old ladies, Hazel and Betty, took to solving mysteries like ducks to water, proving to be a valuable asset to have around, iPads and all. Now Martha was another story.

The only people missing were my agent and editor, who would probably be shaking their heads, and warning me this might lead to serious trouble. Then again, after giving it some serious thought, they might think it could be the start of a very interesting and moneymaking book.

Martha merely laughed at their jab, then said to me, “I knew you’d miss us. Now that we’re here, you’ve got all your bases covered.”

I rubbed my temple, which was twitching already.

Yeah, including my privacy.

Chapter 9

Commentary At The Crime Scene

Now, why did I think I could escape what had followed me for three books? They, meaning the four of them, were bound to my hip, like a clue was to a mystery. How would any puzzles be solved without them, especially mine?

I made a follow-up call to Sally and Tom, who confirmed it was fine with them that my friends stay at the farm. They were looking forward to seeing Crystal again, a favorite cousin of Sally’s. Suspicious as always, I still had reservations. Why wasn’t Crystal housesitting instead? I had to corner her alone later to find out why, but I was sure, as usual, she’d give me a complicated explanation.

Robinson’s homestead was around the corner and ran the full length of Sally’s property on the backside. Hers was about a block long, from street to street. In order to get to his property by car, which Clay and I had done, you had to make a left out of Sally’s driveway, go to the next street, make another left turn, and then travel down the hill on the unpaved, dusty road until you got to Robinson’s property.

I imagine you could, with a compass and some time, cut through Sally’s dense woods and climb over fallen trees to get to Robinson’s, but to me it just wasn’t worth the hike. I’d rather take the straightforward route of the streets.

We were all piled into an old pickup Sally left for us to use, finding it under her barn with the keys still in the ignition. Since it was a beautiful, sunny day, Crystal, Martha, Hazel, and Betty preferred riding in the open bed of the truck. Clay drove and I rode shotgun.

After parking on the previously trampled-down weeds, we climbed out and made for the back door. Clay and I had filled everyone in on what was going on at Robinson’s. And with the go ahead of the police, they couldn’t wait to see the crime scene and interior of the house.

IPads and iPhones at the ready, we all ventured inside, single file. I expected something to be said about the lingering, foul odor, but apparently Clay had already warned them. Heads were ducked and bodies sidestepped up the narrow stairs that led to the bedrooms.

No one spoke for a moment while everyone took in the visuals of the blood-splattered walls and bed covers. Then all you heard and saw were clicks and flashes, documenting everything minus the raccoon and Harry. Clay gave a walking commentary of what happened as we all filed from room to room, finally ending up in the small bathroom with everyone staring down at the infamous, blood-stained tub.

I’d never look at a claw-foot tub the same way again.

Martha elbowed her way to the forefront, snapped a few pictures, and then stood there. “Rabies! Unbelievable! And those little critters look so cute wearing their masks.”

I agreed, nodding. “Cute didn’t cut it this time, did it?”

Chapter 10

Taking A Stab At The Truth

We all got to work, searching through the numerous dressers and cabinets. Moving on, we eventually made our way downstairs, cutting through the dining area. I noticed a narrow door off to the side of a built-in china cabinet.

“Hey, guys, wait a minute while I check out this closet.”

To my surprise, it wasn’t a closet. It led to another room, Mr. Robinson’s by the look of it. I thought his was upstairs where the bird-watching books were. Why didn’t I notice this before?

Then I realized that from the outside, I had figured his bedroom window was the dining room, and with the door being so narrow, we’d all assumed it was a small closet, one of the few in the entire house. We started to open drawers and built-in cabinets and were rewarded by an assortment of World War II photographs. I flipped through some. These weren’t everyday photos, but appeared to be close-ups of the East German Army. Many were duplicates.

What was the purpose of that?

“Hey, come over here and take a look,” said Clay.

We all joined him at the small bookcase.

“It was hidden behind these other books. It’s a handwritten book in what appears to be German script, written in pen with a hand-sewn binding.”

I turned some of the pages. “Why would he hide this?”

“Maybe it’s stolen. Let me check with a book expert.”

“Good idea. Let’s see what else is here.”

Everyone went back to methodically tossing one article after another onto the bed not wanting to miss a thing. The only interesting item was a photo of a younger Robinson in an American army uniform, sitting in a jeep. It was labeled.

“Hey,” Martha called out from across the room. “Looks like someone made a false-bottom to this drawer.” She pulled on a latch and it lifted. “Well, looky here! It’s a bunch of old daggers with German writing on them.”

Crystal grabbed one, examining it. “Why hide them in there? Doesn’t make sense.” She turned it over. “How do we tell if they’re real or not?”

“Maybe a collector would know,” I said. “Let’s take one and go, hopefully the rest will be safe for now. It’s almost dark and getting hard to see without electricity hooked up.”

Later that evening, after a light supper of Caesar salad laced with chicken that received a thumbs-up, we were still discussing those strange daggers, while polishing off the last bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and trying to figure out what was going on over at Robinson’s house.

“What are your thoughts, guys?” I asked, trying to come up with possibilities myself.

“Having all those daggers is not normal,” said Hazel.

“What would he be doing with that many?” Betty asked.

“I’ve heard of guys bringing home souvenirs from the war, but that looked like more than one man alone would find and drag home,” said Martha. “Think they’re phony?”

I nodded. “That’s a good probability.”

“But why hide them?” asked Betty.

“For a shady business venture, maybe?” Clay ventured.

Being tired, everyone left it at that and said goodnight.

Hmm… A history professor selling phony daggers?

…Well, why not?

I stayed up late that night in Sally’s library. The whole Robinson thing felt like a great storyline for my next book. Clay was used to me wandering off until the wee hours with my laptop. He knew how I got when the story was flowing and I didn’t want to forget or leave out anything while it was still fresh in my mind.

What intrigued me was that some questions were beginning to accumulate in the unexplainable column. That usually meant something was going on that didn’t feel right. And when it didn’t feel right, I had to dig deeper.

I know, I know, I’m looking for trouble.

But after finding an old handwritten German book, war photos, daggers, including one bludgeoned, dead raccoon, and dearly-departed Harry, what would you do, just sit there? Besides, nothing was going to surprise me, now. I’d probably seen the worst of what was out there. But a pushy voice deep inside me kept saying, ‘Ha! Think again.’

Chapter 11

Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers

So now this brings us back to where I started this book, meeting the Ms. Sarah Smith to confirm her outlandish statement. The seven of us stood there, standing in a section of Sarah’s woods. Like I said, we were standing in it, but weren’t staring at it. Sure enough, someone had come, cut it down, and cleared it out completely, just like she said.

Martha said, “I’ll be darned. It’s as naked as a jay bird.”

“There is nothing to take a picture of,” grumbled Hazel.

“That about sizes it up,” said Crystal, looking around.

Sarah, a stylish, gorgeous redhead hugged herself. “How could anyone do this? I go away for the weekend and come back to this!” she said gesturing toward the vacant area.

“Was your husband with you?” I asked.

“No. My husband, George is a lot older than me and mostly homebound. A neighbor or two stop by to check on him or bring him food when I leave for a few days…”

She never finished. Her vague answer spoke volumes.

“Did your husband hear anything?” Clay asked.

“No. George is deaf, and this is some distance from the house, so you can’t see it from any of the windows. I doubt he had any clue as to what happened way down here. These houses aren’t that close because most of these properties are a hundred or more acres.”

“How’d you know your woods were stolen?” I asked.

“Being so attuned to health issues because of George, I have taken up going for long walks down this lane.”

My ears perked up. “So you walk by Robinson’s, too?”

Sarah nodded. “Why, yes, I do, almost every day.”

I could see the interest gathering in the group.

“Do you walk the same time each day?” Betty asked.

“Yes. Weather permitting, that is,” replied Sarah.

I turned, visually placing Robinson’s property line across the road. It started about a hundred yards down. We were located about twenty yards in off that road. A dirt drive led into her woods – or what had been woods. If you weren’t familiar with the land, you wouldn’t necessarily notice what happened to this hidden section of her property.

“How often does this clear-cutting happen?” Clay asked.

Sarah sighed. “More than you’d expect, mostly when someone is away, or they are a part-time owner, who is shocked when they come back. It is always someone who owns a large wooded parcel, too. I figured that since I am only gone a day or two at a time, and with the neighbors checking in on George, we were secure. I guess not.”

“What did the police have to say?” I asked.

“I didn’t call them. I would merely be added onto the growing list of names of the other victims. So why bother?”

“Why would someone steal your woods?” Clay asked.

“Lumber is big business and brings in big money.”

Ah! That’s another issue involving the money angle.

Chapter 12

Chasing The Moos Away

Everyone else thought it was a great idea. Somehow, it quickly escalated into a group outing, right after I agreed to look into the matter for Sarah. She was so appreciative she offered us three of her horses to take on a horseback ride that afternoon. Crystal said that with the three additional horses at Sally’s place, we’d go for a ride right after lunch.

There…was…no…way.

Needless to say, lunch didn’t set well with me, as I was already mentally nervous about riding and playing cowgirl on something taller than my car.

Why not go out and stab myself? It must be less painful.

“I don’t know about this,” I said, afterward, staring up at the Morgan I was assigned to. Her name was Amanda.

“She’s my favorite, a purebred Morgan,” said Crystal. “She’s gentle and has a great past.”

I looked Amanda over. “What is so special about her?”

“You can trace her lineage back to a single sire, a stallion named Figure, who was born in West Springfield, Massachusetts in 1789. At one time, Justin Morgan owned him. Later on, Figure became known by this particular owner’s name, and so the name Morgan breed.”

Now interested, I asked, “What were they used for?”

“They were used in harness racing in the 1840’s, in the Civil War as cavalry mounts, and also used in the Pony Express in the western part of the United States.”

I was still intimidated by her mass. “How tall is she?”

“Amanda’s about fourteen hands, just like Figure.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, checking out her compact body and chestnut color, and then laughed as Amanda turned in my direction and gently nudged me.

“It’s how we measure horses. Fourteen hands are about 1.42 meters. The average Morgan is between fourteen and fifteen hands. She weighs about nine hundred and fifty pounds, like Figure, that original Morgan. Sally said he died in 1821 at the ripe old age of thirty-two and was buried over in Tunbridge, Vermont.”

I sized up Amanda again. “…Well …maybe I’ll try.”

Martha, Betty and Hazel had on their Harley riding gear, minus the goggles, thank goodness. Crystal, Clay, and yours truly wore T-shirts, jeans, and boots. I looked up at Amanda’s face. I mean she looked harmless enough. Winking, Clay boosted me up and over. Amanda shuffled around in place then settled down. She really was gentle.

A novice, I’d ride in the middle behind Clay and Crystal and in front of Martha, Hazel and Betty, so they could keep an eye on me because everyone else had horse-riding experience. My only experience that came close to this much animal was at a steakhouse with a salad on the side.

After an hour and a half, we started to spread further apart. I relaxed, getting the hang of it. As long as nothing spooked Amanda, I figured I’d be just fine. In short order, I was thoroughly enjoying the meadows, dusty horse-trails, and views of the majestic mountains.

I heard the sound of an engine in the distance, but gave it little thought. The scenery had my total attention. But as the noise increased, I felt Amanda become restless. Nervously, I cooed her, while gently patting her back to calm her – and me – down.

I began hearing shouts from behind me so I turned around to my right to have a look. Everyone was waving their arms. I waved back, smiling. But then my breath caught. A red pick-up was headed straight for Amanda’s left flank. Terrified, I turned to face forward and gripped the reigns tighter. Amanda reacted and reared up on her hind legs, just as the truck’s fender skimmed past.

In a flash, the truck swerved away in a cloud of dust, turning at the next corner and disappeared. Clay and Crystal had turned back at hearing the truck. But I was no longer there. I was now headed in another direction. Startled, Amanda had bolted, jumped a low fence, and was racing across a pasture with me hanging on for dear life.

You know, I heard that when you feel like you are facing death, your life passes before you. Well, mine flew by in about thirty seconds. That was all I had time for because a pond was approaching real fast and Amanda was not exactly trying to stop. I was wrong. She did stop and quite abruptly, but not me. No sir. I flew up and over her in a wide, unladylike arc.

Just before I hit the drink, I noticed large, brown creatures looking up at me. They were just as startled and were very hefty. I caught a glimpse of horns.

Uh, oh! Bulls?

Chapter 13

Going Long And Coming Up Short

In football terms you’d call it going long. But eventually you know it’s going to drop, and I did with a loud splash. In seconds I came up for air, splashing like a wild woman and looking all around. I know I’m no expert, but I recognized cattle when I saw them, and they weren’t glad to see me. Some stomped the ground and snorted angrily.

Behind me I heard a lot of yelling and I turned while treading water. A farmer was tearing across his field in his tractor aiming right for the cluster of steers. To my relief, in seconds they scattered when the tractor’s engine roared in.

He jumped off the tractor after he brought it close to the water’s edge. The best-looking farmer I have ever laid my eyes on was swinging a rope in my direction. At least about six foot, his muscular body said he was no stranger to hard manual labor. No, he got an A+ in my book.

Of course, I have never laid eyes on a real farmer before, but you get the visuals, right?

He threw it to me and I latched on. No longer panic-stricken, I bravely stretched out my legs only to find I was standing, completely embarrassed I might add, in only a neck-high cattle-drinking pond. But he still scooped me up into his arms after walking into the water to retrieve me.

When we reached the edge, he stood me upright on dry land. Drenched, I was short of breath and still shaking from the dizzying ordeal. It’s not every day I came face to face with animals that large except at the zoo. By this time, everyone had climbed the fence and was rushing over to us with Amanda in tow.

“Where am I?” I asked, disoriented, looking all around.

The handsome farmer beside me said, “You took quite a spill, and are lucky you didn’t break your neck. You’re in Sanbornton, down the way from Robinson’s place.”

I shook my head, still confused. How did we get back to the area where we started? But with all that cutting through woods, meadows, trails, and dusty roads, I guess it was possible. I turned to him and stuck out my drippy hand.

“I’m Samantha Jamison. I guess my horse got spooked. Thanks for the rescue.”

He took off his hat, revealing a head of blonde-streaked hair that was tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

I heard voices and turned. My friends had finally caught up and were standing there, breathless, grinning at my hero. That is, all except Clay. He came up short when this farmer turned around and smiled a million dollar, megawatt smile.

“Hey, there, I’m Jackson Porter.”

Chapter 14

Regrouping, But Not Regretting

Crystal marched right up to the guy and thanked him personally. After that, so did the other three ladies. Clay hung back, debating what to do. I tried to ease the situation and sloshed over to Clay, pushing back my sopping hair.

It always came down to testosterone, didn’t it?

“Jackson, I’d like you to meet Clay.”

Clay reluctantly stepped forward and shook his hand. “Hi, I’m Clay Masters. Thanks for helping Sam.”

Jackson side-glanced me. “Oh, it was my pleasure. It’s not often we get such pretty women to rescue around here.”

I looked down at Clay’s hands. They were balled into fists. I had to defuse the situation real quick. “I guess we’ll be getting on our way, right, Clay?”

Realizing I was ready to go and leaving with him, Clay finally grinned. I was back in his corner. Relieved I was safe; he shook Jackson’s hand again, “Thanks.”

But Martha wasn’t ready just yet. “You have some property here! How many acres do you have, Jackson?”

I looked over to her, wondering what she was up to.

Jackson smiled, the crinkles around his eyes a bit much.

“I have two hundred twenty-five acres, give or take.”

“What do you mean, give or take?” Betty asked.

“Well, according to the old town records, everything was approximate. Nothing was exact, so they always said give or take, you know, plus or minus.”

“You raise cattle?” I asked now curious myself.

“I figured I’d try something to bring in extra money.”

Betty looked across the field. “What kind of cattle?”

“They’re Herefords, a cattle breed that does well here.”

“You seem to be the odd man out, here,” said Martha. “Everyone else around you has horses. Any complaints?”

Jackson’s eyes flashed annoyance, then crinkled again as he smiled. “Everyone gets along just fine around here.”

“Do you live here with your wife?” Hazel asked.

“I’ve never found the right woman to settle down with.”

“And why not?” Crystal probed.

When he answered her, he looked right at me and winked. “I haven’t found the right woman. I’m looking for someone who can talk and chew gum at the same time.”

I laughed, then looked over at Clay. But he wasn’t laughing, or smiling. “Clay, I think it’s time to head back.”

His eyes cut to mine. “Are you sure?” he asked, but his eyes were asking something completely different.

“I’m sure, Clay,” I said, squeezing his hand and smiling.

But I wasn’t so sure about Jackson. Who was he?

As we walked away, I thought Jackson might be worth checking out. I glanced back for another look, only to see him frowning, pacing, and talking on his cell. Hmmm…

Chapter 15

Timing Is Everything

We decided we’d better hustle over to the rally before dark and grab a bite to eat. I knew Clay and Crystal were getting antsy about hanging out at the farm and agreed. They wanted to ride their Harleys. But we had a problem.

Now, how do I delicately describe this?

It was group sticker shock as we all took in the sight before us. We were staring at Martha, who was wearing a leather jacket and her leather chaps, with one exception. Instead of staring at her jean-clad rear underneath them, we were staring at her rear-end in the flesh.

Hazel was adamant. “No! Her derrière is hanging out!”

“So what’s the big deal?” Martha asked, smirking.

“I refuse to ride with my body rubbing your posterior!”

Betty tried to play diplomat. “It’s only twenty minutes.”

“I want something between us!” Hazel ordered.

“Why not ride one of the horses?” laughed Martha.

“I could retort, but I’m too much of a lady,” said Hazel.

I stepped in appealing to Hazel’s generous spirit.

“Now, Hazel, how about a blanket? It would hide what you find most offensive about her outfit. It certainly doesn’t mean you have to walk around with her once we get there. You and Betty could go off on your own. Plus it’ll be dark soon. Who would notice?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “Only if Betty switches later.”

I looked at Betty, who gritted her teeth, smiling. “Sure.”

The twenty-minute ride turned into forty-five due to the crowds, but it was worth it. The carnival-like atmosphere was something to see as we passed bikes already parked at Weirs Beach, while we searched for a place to park. We ended up finding a spot in a field. After getting off, Hazel smirked as Martha began scratching her skin vigorously.

Crystal turned Martha around. “It’s red.”

Martha was still scratching. “What is?”

Crystal started snickering. “Your ass.”

Martha whirled around to face Hazel, who was looking everywhere but at Martha, trying desperately not to laugh.

“Exactly what kind of blanket did you get?” she asked.

Hazel’s eyes darted back to Martha. “What? Oh, the blanket? Why I grabbed one of those old horse blankets.”

Martha went toe to toe with Hazel. “But they’re wool!”

“I know that!” said Hazel staring right back at her.

“I’m highly allergic to wool!” Martha tossed back.

“I know that. It serves you right for exposing yourself.”

Clay now stepped in to avoid an incident.

“Martha, why don’t I introduce you to a friend of mine who’s working one of the booths here. You’d like him.”

She turned to Clay, slightly interested. “Who?”

“He’s good-looking, but a few years younger than you.”

Chapter 16

Timely Distractions

Martha grinned. “I’m open to younger possibilities.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then had second thoughts. Did Clay make that up about the guy to distract Martha, or did he actually know someone who was here for the rally?

“Who is this guy? You didn’t mention you knew anyone who was going to be here.”

Clay smiled. “You didn’t ask.”

You see what I have to put up with? I loved it.

He was slyer than a fox whenever I tried to figure out what he was up to. Now interested myself, I decided to call his bluff. “Great! Let’s all go find him, shall we?”

As a group, we hardly got a side-glance. Of course, the dress code was obviously limitless with more emphasis on the less as far as some of the women went. Hazel and Betty spent most of the time with their mouths hanging open.

I laughed. We blended in more than I thought we would. Nobody gave us the time of day, Martha included.

Lingering at a booth to check out leather bracelets, I told the others I’d catch up. While being gently jostled back and forth with the crowds moving past me, every once in a while I gave my fanny pack, now perched in the front, a pat to make sure my ID and money were still secure.

I felt a shove and dropped one bracelet. When I bent to retrieve it, I was shoved again, but this time almost fell to the ground. A set of hands grabbed me in time to steady me. As we both stood back up, his eyes locked onto mine. It was Jackson, but not the one I’d met earlier that day.

He was all in black leather from head to toe, including a black leather bandanna with the blonde ponytail hanging out in the back. Then I noticed a small ruby stud in his right earlobe. He seemed more at home here than he did playing the role of Mr. Cattle Farmer. I stepped back cautiously.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence! You’ve been saved again,” Jackson said, smiling those pearly whites of his.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the hit.

Accidental? Was he that rider I noticed two days ago?

At this point, I didn’t think it mattered, so I grabbed the advantage to find out what I could. “So you have. Thanks.”

I looked down at his hands. He sported a blood red ring that seemed unusual for a farmer to wear, but then again, his whole outfit wasn’t usual farmer gear, either.

He looked all around us. “You here alone?”

I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly didn’t feel right standing there, especially after he had stepped closer and was now in my personal Sam zone again. “As a matter of fact, I was about to catch up to the others you met earlier.”

“Have you ever been to one of these rallies before?”

“No, this is my first. I have to tell you, it’s different.”

“How about I walk along until we catch up with them?”

Chapter 17

Why Not?

That offer was too tempting for me to pass up, warning light and all. Maybe I could learn a thing or two while we walked. My writer’s curiosity about this individual, who represented not a scintilla of the one I had talked to that afternoon, was more than my nosy persona could handle. I could do the walk-and-talk thing easily. We were in a crowd and there was safety in numbers. After a brief explanation of who I was and how I got there, I asked him about his background.

“Not much to tell. I bought the parcel from Robinson a few years ago when he complained it was becoming too much to handle. I guess that was when he knew something wasn’t right and his mental capacity was wearing down. Not believing my luck, I jumped on his unexpected offer. It was something I always wanted to try, raise some cattle.”

“I never would have guessed. How’d you meet him?”

“From working at the Smith property.”

I turned to look at him. “That was convenient.”

“Sure was. Plus, he said I could pay it off in time. I went for it. Of course, Sarah was upset, losing an extra set of hands like that, but I had to look out for myself. She can get sort of overbearing, if you know what I mean.”

I smiled. “I had a dose of that when she first called me.”

“I bet that call was interesting.”

So I explained about the bizarre phone call from her and my subsequent visit to inspect her missing woods. Of course, he probably already knew, but he laughed anyway.

“Initially, the whole thing sounded ridiculous, but it wasn’t. Have you had any problems at your place?”

“No, not yet. Of course with cattle around, and my whole property being fenced off, I wouldn’t be an easy hit.”

“I guess so.”

“By the way, what made your horse jump the fence and take off like that?”

“A pickup truck came way too close to my horse and she panicked, I guess.”

“Where were the others you were riding with?”

“Some were far in front and some had lagged behind.”

I stopped walking and thought about what I just said. Why did that truck skim by me, and my horse in particular, and not the others? I started getting a prickly feeling.

Jackson touched my arm and I jumped.

“You okay?”

“…Huh? Yes, I’m fine,” I said, and resumed walking.

He saw the concern on my face and said, “You know you have to be careful nowadays. People text and talk on the phone like crazy and aren’t watching where they are driving or who else is on the road with them.”

I thought about that. “You’re probably right.”

But what if he was wrong and I was some sort of target?

Chapter 18

More Than A Stamp Of Approval

I was still trying to brush off those thoughts when someone called out to me. I looked up to catch Hazel and Betty rushing toward me, annoyance written all over their faces. I turned to Jackson. “I sense bad news in the air.”

“How are you so sure?”

“It’s women’s intuition. We differentiate between the look and a look. I’ve learned interpretation is everything.”

Hazel grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward a particular booth. In seconds, Betty had my other arm and was doing the same thing.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“You want to see? Well, have a good look,” said Betty.

“I think we should pick out a home for her,” said Hazel.

I was confused. “What home? Whatever for?”

They stopped moving at the entrance of a booth. I stood there, dumbfounded. Clay was there casually talking to this leather-clad biker guy with a white-trimmed beard. Some kind of needle contraption hovered nearby someone’s rear. I recoiled when I realized it was Martha’s. She was laying there still wearing her leather chaps.

“He’s tattooed a butterfly!” said an upset Hazel.

Crystal grinned at my approach. “Isn’t this great?”

“What do you mean great?” I asked. “This is Martha’s body we’re talking about here.”

“It’s the same spot where I got mine,” Crystal said.

I didn’t have a retort to that one, so I turned to Clay. Maybe he would understand, but he threw his hands up.

“Martha is one determined woman, saying she always wanted one and no one was going to stop her. I figured since she is well beyond the age of twenty-one, who was I to object? By the way, this is Giorgio, the tattoo master.”

“Is this the guy you wanted Martha to meet?”

Clay smiled. “The one and only.”

Giorgio extended his hand to me. “Ciao, baby.”

I tentatively took it. “It’s a pleasure…I think.”

“I won’t be much longer,” he said, chuckling.

The only one left who I had not addressed was Martha.

“What possessed you?”

“Have you ever wanted to do something so ridiculous and out of the norm, but were afraid to take the risk? My whole life I have lived the way others expected me to and have missed out on so much. Well, if not now, when?”

I smiled at my crazy friend. “…Couldn’t agree more.”

Hazel and Betty tried to object, but I held up my hand.

“I know Martha drives you crazy. Be it good or bad, this is her choice. I’m not going to judge her reasoning.”

Only my own.

“Any objections?” Nobody said zip.

Chapter 19

Nibbling On The Truth, One Bite At A Time

I had forgotten about Jackson standing there, watching this whole thing. I was sure he thought we were all a bunch of nuts running loose in the live free or die state, a likely spot-on assessment.

I tried to imagine how all this would play out in my new novel since I was currently under a deadline once again. I needed to get the visuals just right. So the story wasn’t playing out exactly as I pictured it would. So what? I could always tweak it a little, here and there. Okay, a lot.

When Martha’s personal statement was permanently cast, and the process finished, I realized there were two individuals standing there that pretty much didn’t care for each other. They were sizing each other up in a not so friendly way. As far as I was concerned, there was no contest. Clay was the one.

I quickly grabbed Crystal as a distraction and told her all about the Harley that Jackson was riding. Well, that did it. She was a goner in Harley heaven as they slid easily into a conversation comparing bikes.

Then I turned my attention to more important matters, like how do I top watching someone’s ass being tattooed? I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing.

“How about we all go have a beer and some barbecue?”

In unison, we headed over to a barbecue tent, Jackson included. I just hoped I wouldn’t get heartburn. I forgot to mention that ciao baby, Giorgio, who Martha seemed attracted to, said he was taking a break and joining us, too.

After our second round of drinks, everyone chomped down on their barbecue, from pulled pork, ribs, and chicken to grilled corn on the cob.

Things seemed to settle into a nice camaraderie thing going on and eventually I relaxed. I was sitting in between Clay and Jackson, a sort of buffer zone between the two. I wanted to hear more about the properties, all three. I turned to Jackson. “What have you heard about Robinson’s property that Sally just bought?”

He stopped eating his ribs, wiped his hands and turned to me. “That was pure disappointment. Those relatives of Robinson’s were asking a ridiculous amount of money for that old decrepit property, way more than that developer was offering, which was a fair price.”

“So you were surprised when Sally and Tom stepped in to snatch it up like that?”

He took a swig a beer. “Yeah, it’s always these out-of-towners that are rolling in dough that leave the locals out in the cold.”

Was that an edge of bitterness?

I noticed he wasn’t smiling with that last statement and wondered what else was annoying him.

He was slightly buzzed. Good.

“You from around here?” I asked.

“No. I’m from Boston,” he blurted out, then stilled.

I felt a gentle nudge from Clay’s direction, and then he eyed me. We were both thinking the same thing, another Boston connection, just like Robinson’s relatives.

Interesting. Very interesting.

Chapter 20

Making Sense & Sensing Trouble

Over breakfast the next morning, I shared what Jackson said the night before. He’d been guarded after telling us he was originally from Boston. I speculated that I felt there might be a connection between Robinson’s family and him.

“The only catch is why would he possibly be interested in getting his hands on a property that Robinson’s family sold if he was connected to them? Why not hang onto it in the first place?”

“Maybe,” said Clay, “There are two separate motives going on here.”

“Like what?” Betty asked.

“Could be that he has no attachment to the Robinson family and it’s all a coincidence, the Boston angle, and…”

Martha jumped in. “He already knows the advantage in owning Robinson’s property and is pursuing it on his own.”

“Or,” Crystal added, “he is related to the relatives and knows something they don’t and is freelancing.”

“Why would he do that?” Betty asked.

“There has to be a money angle,” I said. “Always is.”

“Do you think Jackson could have been doing odd jobs for Robinson while he was alive, without letting on to Sarah while he was still working for her?” Hazel asked.

Martha eyed Hazel, surprised. “That was insightful.”

Betty added. “He might have seen or heard something while he was there. With it being sold from under him and currently being boarded up, he finally had the opportunity to do something covertly, but our arrival put a stop to his plans, especially now that Samantha is involved.”

I nodded with that possibility taking shape. “…And he didn’t expect Sarah to come running to me about her woods being stolen, which complicated things further and gave me a good reason to take a closer look at the neighborhood and Robinson’s house.”

“Which,” Clay added, “only goes to show you that on the other hand, all of us might be way off base on the whole thing in stringing together something that never was.”

“Yeah,” said Martha, “but it sounded real interesting when we all thought it up, didn’t it?”

I sat up. “Wait a minute!”

“What?” Clay asked.

“Sally mentioned the other night on the phone that her neighbors, the Smiths, were originally from Boston, too.”

Martha smiled. “Now that’s real convenient, isn’t it?”

I shook my head, changing my mind at the absurdity of the connections. “…No, that’s ridiculous! I think Clay might be right. We’re all making too much about a simple answer from a guy we’ve just met. We have turned into such a suspicious group. We might be overplaying this.”

Crystal hit the table. “But what if we’re not?”

Yes, there was always that.

Chapter 21

M Marks Their Spot

Clay drove to Boston in the old truck to see what he could drum up about Robinson’s relatives. Martha, Hazel and Betty were busy researching anything they could about Robinson and his background, which included the library. Crystal was looking at it from the real estate angle and headed off to the town hall to research public records.

Me? I decided to ask the other neighbors on the other side of Robinson’s property, which was across from Jackson’s property. I heard a well-off husband and wife lived there, who had done extensive renovations on an old New England clapboard home they intended for their retirement. They came from, you guessed it, Boston, and had been making improvements for a few years.

Sally, who made a point of knowing all her neighbors, asked them if they could help her out by giving me some information regarding the area and anything else they might know about the old Robinson property, rumors included.

I looked around after Crystal dropped me off from her Harley at the Fielding’s raked, gravel drive. They had a spectacular view, looking across the road past Jackson’s fields to the mountain ranges in the far distance. A new large picture window in the front of their house faced that view directly. I could see why they chose that parcel in the first place. Between the secluded dirt road, the views, and the surrounding woods, they had made a good investment.

I heard a door squeak open and turned. There stood a gray-haired gentleman, I guessed in his early sixties, casually dressed in jeans and polo shirt, smiling at me. Right behind him was a woman around the same age as him, wearing jeans and a sweater, and whose gray hair was held back with a clip.

“Hi,” I greeted, as I approached their side door entrance.

The man extended his hand, giving me a mischievous, broad grin. “Why you’re prettier than I expected. You must be Samantha Jamison.”

Smooth. I liked him instantly and smiled right back.

“Yes, and you both must be Mr. and Mrs. Fielding.”

The fragile-looking woman reached out a petite hand and shook mine firmly and escorted me inside. “Please call me Millicent, and this is my husband, Major.”

I tried not to chuckle at how amusing his name sounded as I followed them inside. Major. How some of these people were ever given such strange monikers was a mystery. But then who was I to speak with the name, Sam?

Once we were all seated and tea served, I got right to exactly what I was interested in without giving anything away. “I’m sure you both are aware about what happened at Robinson’s house the other day with that raccoon.”

“Oh my, yes!” Millicent exclaimed. “How dreadful!”

Major agreed, patting his wife’s hand. “Why, that could have happened to us if it weren’t for Millicent’s insistence on keeping the doors firmly closed and all possible entry into the house carefully repaired and sealed.”

Millicent sipped her tea. “I heard that raccoon snuck in through some loose boards near the basement entrance.”

I knew in a small town of under three thousand residents word would spread swiftly.

“I heard that, too,” I said. Sally had passed on the information earlier that morning when she had called Crystal. Clay and I must have missed those loose boards because of all the overgrowth and weeds.

“Did you know Robinson before he went to the home?”

Major nodded, then said, “He kept mostly to himself, but once in a while when we were out walking, he would stop and talk if he was outside when we passed by his house. He was pleasant enough, I guess.”

Millicent agreed. “But he got strange toward the end.”

“What do you mean, strange?”

Mrs. Fielding lowered her voice, as though someone might overhear her. “He started to mumble odd things like, ‘Who would believe me now?’ ‘Why should I trust him?’ ‘What if they found out?’ I found it extremely unsettling.”

Major laughed. “My wife sometimes sees intrigue where there is none. She has probably read too many whodunits.”

Millicent gave him a sharp look. “I know what I heard.”

I looked at Major. “Did you hear him say such things?”

He shrugged. “Sure, but they were probably nothing more than the ramblings of a man who was ill.”

His wife shook her head. “Maybe, but after that he was gone and placed in a home.”

“…Because,” added Major, “he fell after slipping on his stairs and lay there for two days. A nursing home was then suggested by his relatives for his own safety.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, too convenient.

Was he pushed?

Chapter 22

Driving The Point Home

The three ladies were bickering as usual when they walked in the door. I sharpened my refereeing skills and greeted them. “Well, I see you’re in high spirits.”

Martha’s eyes narrowed. “I know that was meant as a joke, but after being stuck in a small library with these two for a couple of hours, while I picked the brain of that old librarian, you’d be testy, too.”

I looked over at the sweet, harmless pair. “Why?”

“Every time I gained traction with that librarian, Miss ‘But-In’ and Miss ‘Are-You-Sure?’ managed to deep-six me by wasting time with their interruptions.”

I had difficulty following. “What’s all this about?”

Hazel stepped in front of Martha. “This chatty, elderly lady was subbing for the regular librarian, who’s out sick.”

“And,” added Betty, “was a wealth of information.”

“Sam, ignore Martha,” said Hazel. “She always gets so peevish. Info gathering takes finesse. You can’t rush it.”

Martha said, “I had that woman in the palm of my hand, telling us about what had happened a few years ago.”

Talk about getting to the point. “And the tale was...?”

“Well, her cousin was driving his pickup by Robinson’s and a lumber truck that was pulling out in the opposite direction almost hit him. He ended up in a ditch. Well, Robinson rushes from his house with chains and his own truck to help tow her cousin out, saying, ‘He should have been more careful pulling out like that.’ But then Miss ‘But-In’ stops the whole shebang, so Miss ‘Are-You-Sure?’ can ask nonsensical questions and the library phone rang.”

I laughed. “And the moment was gone, right?”

“Like a punctured balloon.”

“Yes, but we still learned a lot,” said an indignant Betty.

Martha whirled on her. “We might have learned more.”

“What was so important about the episode?” I asked.

Hazel smiled smugly. “Because the truck that almost hit her cousin’s truck was pulling out from Robinson’s house.”

Martha gave a frustrated laugh. “Once that phone rang, someone came in with their three kids and that was that.”

I needed a conversational map. “I still don’t get it.”

“It’s another aspect we never considered before, Sam.”

“What didn’t we consider?” I asked, impatiently.

“Paying more attention to all the players, including the dead one. That truck was pulling away from Robinson’s.”

“So, what’s the big deal? He might have been asking for directions from Robinson. Why would you get so worked up about a lumber truck on a dirt back road anyway?”

Hazel winked. “The librarian’s cousin saw something.”

Martha chuckled. “I guess that wad of cash the trucker handed Robinson from his driver’s window was his way of thanking him for directions on how to get to Interstate 93.”

Chapter 23

Another Strange Coincidence?

Not much later, Crystal rushed in and slapped her keys on the counter. By then we were sipping our customary p.m. glass of wine, while discussing what was going on. Obviously, Crystal had a lot to say, because she went right for her usual 1664 chilled bottle of beer with a lime twist shoved in the bottleneck for panache and just stood there.

The three of us sat staring wondering what would spill from her lips, and by the look on her face, plenty. After a long pull on her bottle of beer, she slowly set it down, smiling, stringing out the anticipation to the hilt.

“After checking the town records and calling Sally, all I found out was there used to be a one hundred-and-fifty-foot antenna sitting at the top of the drive just before you make a right toward Sally’s four-car garage. Tom had been trying for a few years to get the damn thing out. That small patch of ground the antenna stood on was leased from the former owner of this property for some major cash over the years.”

“Whatever for?” Martha asked.

“A dispatch communication tower for a construction company,” said Crystal, “so they could speak with their drivers about deliveries in New Hampshire and Vermont. In these mountains, they couldn’t coordinate distribution.”

“So, how is that relevant?” Betty asked.

“That’s the point. It’s not anymore. With improved cell phone coverage and satellites, the tower became irrelevant. So, Sally, being the ever-clever cousin I know, engaged a lawyer to negotiate the legalities to have the unsightly tower dismantled to enhance the value of her property.”

“Well, I don’t see one there now,” said Martha, “so I guess she was successful.”

“She was,” said Crystal, “but something else came on the radar screen after all that property research was done.”

“What?” Hazel asked.

“Sally and Tom were informed by their lawyer there might be a problem about one of the several old wells on their land even though it was within their property lines.”

“So, what was the hitch?” I asked.

“There was a never-used artesian well on the southern portion of their property with shared water rights that went back over a hundred years that no one was aware of.”

My mind was connecting the dots. “So, Sally and Tom didn’t have full water rights to that particular hand-dug well, even though it is within their property line and hadn’t been used in ages or ever shared, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Well, who did she speak to for settling water rights that are well over a hundred years old?” asked Martha.

“She couldn’t,” said Crystal.

“And why not?” I asked.

“The woman in question was no longer around.”

“So?” asked Betty. “Why can’t Sally write her and buy the woman out? Can’t she at least try to contact her?”

I interrupted. “Wait! Was meant something else, right?”

“Yes. She’s dead,” said Crystal. “A few years ago she was murdered inside her house in a home invasion, but no one was ever caught. It was a real mystery then, still is.”

Like I’ve said to my editor, you can’t make this stuff up. No one would believe you, but it happens in real life and makes great storytelling, except for the unfortunate person involved. Now Sally and Tom had to deal with all the complex legal issues in trying to get it all resolved.

Nobody said anything for a minute or two. Then as a reflex we all reached for our glasses of wine and took a long sip. Crystal grabbed her bottle of beer, doing the same.

“…Wow,” said Betty.

“How do you negotiate with a dead woman?” I asked.

“You’d need a Ouija board,” countered Martha.

“What will Sally and Tom do now?” Hazel asked.

“Deal with the woman’s descendants.” Betty replied.

“I don’t think so,” said Crystal.

“And why not?” I asked.

“There was a male descendent, but after a year, they’ve had no luck tracking him down, so it looks like the court will rule in Sally and Tom’s favor for the water rights.”

“I guess that’s great news for Sally and Tom. At least for that end of their property, but I don’t know about the other end though, you know, the Robinson end of it.”

A lot of strange things were going on, don’t you think?

Chapter 24

Three Plus One Makes Four?

While the others speculated and bantered back and forth, I went for a leisurely walk in the woods for a much-needed brain-break. Crystal had mentioned there was a small pond on the property in a northerly direction from the house. It sounded restful, so I chose that route. I had to think.

I grabbed a few strawberries growing wild along the way, while stepping around sporadic patches of violets and numerous wildflowers lining the paths and horse trails.

As I munched away, I remembered that I once read that June's full moon was known as the strawberry moon, a name that was handed down by Native Americans, who were honoring the first edible wild fruit of the season.

I found that interesting. (I read ketchup labels, too.)

I could see why Sally and Tom loved the property. It was like an island unto itself. There was a fork in the path and I chose the one to the right, ducking under branches and stepping over a recently fallen tree blocking the path.

I checked my watch, not wanting to be too late to help with preparing our dinner and kept walking. Periodically, I stopped and listened to the wind rustle the tree branches and the occasional bird feather between them, marveling at how peaceful it was.

In several minutes, I found the small pond. It was flecked with sunlight. I caught sight of a frog leaping from one rock to the next. A crane flew off to my left, startling me. Uneasily, I looked back to the worn path that led me here, committing it to memory. The last thing I needed was to get lost in the maze of paths crisscrossing the property.

Crystal had reassured me before I left not to worry. The well-maintained paths eventually led you back home. So if I lost my way, in time, I would end up back at the house.

Enticed by the serenity I moved on and, before long, the overhead canopy of trees gave way to a fenced-in pasture. I was surprised to discover a corralled area in the middle of Sally and Tom’s forest and wondered why? In seconds, I received my answer as I leaned on the wooden rails. Out of nowhere, a dark, chestnut-shaded horse barreled toward me, snorting and charging the fence.

When he bared his teeth, I jumped back before I was nipped. I threw my hand to my chest, shaken. No one had mentioned a fourth horse. He was magnificent. Was he the black sheep of the farm? He stomped the ground and paced back and forth, but then settled down.

I considered walking away, but then remembered the extra sugar cubes I had in my pocket from earlier in the day when I visited the other three horses. He was taller than Amanda, Sally’s Morgan. Determined not to show fear, I took an insane chance and tentatively stretched out my cube-filled hand, prepared to jerk it back at any time.

To my amazement, he eagerly scooped up the small sugar cubes. Then he abruptly flinched when I raised my hand. He reared up on his hind legs and charged the fence again. Obviously, he wasn’t of the school don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

Chapter 25

A Change Of Heart

With my heart pounding, I stared up at the unpredictable stallion, who was still snorting and stomping the ground right next to where I had stood seconds ago. I was currently sprawled out on the ground, having lost my balance in my kneejerk reaction to his skittish behavior.

No wonder no one had mentioned him when we agreed to stay and watch the place. He definitely would have changed the whole dynamics of the babysit-the-farm deal. I slowly got off the ground, brushed off my jeans, and tried to remain calm. He was more nervous than I was.

Apparently, this was one of Sally and Tom’s horses, but not one they advertised. I could see why. I looked at the horse once again, uncertain. He stood next to the fence, eyeing me as though trying to make up his mind if maybe I wasn’t the threat he originally thought I was. I smiled up at him, and I swear, he smiled back.

I finally found my voice. “Hey there, fella. Have they stuck you all the way back here because you’re not so friendly? I bet you’re not as bad as they think you are.”

He eyed me suspiciously, fussed around, but then settled down once again at my soothing voice and whinnied.

I reached into my pocket for more sugar cubes, knowing I was taking a chance at being charged again, but I wanted to make him understand that I wasn’t a threat. So I slowly reached over the fencing and gradually placed my hand in a flat, opened position, but then didn’t move one iota.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

After a minute, the dark chestnut beauty cautiously approached and gently nibbled at the cubes. I could feel my heart pounding away as fear pitched through my veins, but was determined to show a calm demeanor outwardly.

It worked. When he was finished he licked my palm and I was finally able to ever so gently stroke his smooth-as-silk coat. He whinnied again and shuffled around and nudged me, lightly. I smiled, but then caught a strange glint in his eye and withdrew my hand instinctively.

In a flash, he charged the fence once more and I turned on my heels and flew down the path retracing my steps, running as fast as I could in case he broke through. I still heard him kicking the fence as I made my way past the pond, not daring to look back, or slow down.

I was still rattled when I reached the flower gardens of the farmhouse and collapsed on a boulder that was used as a bench, trying to catch my breath. I may not know much about animals, but at least I knew when to cut my losses. I would make a point of privately asking Crystal in the morning to find out more about this mysterious fourth horse, who was definitely now on my watch-your-back list.

Chapter 26

Night Stalkers

I guess I was lucky having friends who meant well and encouraged me to try something new, riding. Large animals didn’t faze them much. Me? After my two experiences with horses so far, well, I was sort of in the not-so-sure stage.

If it moved, I’d still prefer it had a key and a brake.

On the other hand, the hitches in having these friends constantly ebbed and flowed, depending on the strange and unexpected events that popped up when we were together. Surprisingly, everything usually worked out in spite of a little friendly rivalry going on…uh, correction, a lot.

Some were even humorous, like this one:

We were sipping our tea by the fire after dinner, still waiting for Clay to come back from Boston and eager to hear what he had found out, when out of nowhere, the most ungodly high-pitched screech came from the barn.

Nobody said anything for a second, wondering what it was. Then we heard it again. By this time, we were on our feet, but I didn’t exactly notice anyone making a move for the back door that led to the barn. It was as though everyone was freeze-framed in place, not sure what to do.

“What was that?” I asked, squeakily.

Crystal set her mug down on the coffee table. “Sally and Tom’s cat just had kittens. It sure sounds like her cat, but she’s safely locked away in the barn with her new litter.”

“Not necessarily,” said Martha, moving from the sofa.

Betty turned to Hazel. “That’s definitely a distress call.”

“That’s a bet I’d put money on,” said Hazel.

We all tensed after hearing it again.

Martha aimed for the door. “I know that sound.”

Crystal was right behind her. “What?”

“Could be skunks are attacking,” said Hazel.

“Or coyotes,” added Betty.

I almost dropped my mug. “What?”

Martha turned back. “Quick! We need a big flashlight!”

Crystal grabbed one on the way out the back porch door.

We all followed each other closely, listening to more howling in the dark, then rushed from the glassed in porch connected to the covered walkway that attached to the barn.

“Shine that light on those barn doors!” ordered Martha.

Crystal did and we stopped in our tracks. There were skunks trying to hold on to a paw of a kitten under the barn door. Well, we all grabbed a handful of stones from the gravel drive and started throwing them, startling the skunks and the paw of the kitten safely pulled back into the barn. Startled, the skunks took off toward the backfield and disappeared, a scent-free close call.

“That was close. I guess they won’t be back,” I said.

Martha turned. “Are you kidding? Think again, sister!”

Chapter 27

Like Shooting Ducks On A Pond

After checking inside the locked barn to make sure momma and her kittens were fine, Crystal relocked the barn doors, but not before we carried some lumber over to fill in the space where the kitten had snuck under to get out.

Returning back to the family room, Martha wasted no time with Crystal. “You know, now that those skunks know there are kittens in that barn, they are coming back. Trust me, they will find a way into that barn to get at those babies and kill them all for sure.”

“They are a tricky lot,” said Hazel. “And clever.”

“Looked like a whole family of them,” said Betty.

“Have to get rid of them,” said Martha. “Unfortunately, we’re not packing heat, but some rifles might do the trick.”

Crystal looked over to me. “She’s serious, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know how to hunt, skin or mount anything.”

Crystal shook her head. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” I asked.

“If I don’t, my cousin will kill me! She loves that cat.”

I focused on Hazel, Betty and Martha. “At your age, you should be darning socks and knitting, not brandishing rifles and stalking wild animals in the dark, you know that?”

Crystal looked my way. “Got any other alternatives?”

“No, not really. And I don’t do the rifle thing, either.”

“Who said you had to?” said Martha. “We’ll handle this. You just need you to stay here for when Clay returns.”

“But you three are elderly and so….”

“And so what?” Hazel laughed. “So lady-like?”

That had crossed my mind, but she beat me to it. “Yes.”

Betty patted my arm. “We can handle guns, trust us.”

“I do and I don’t, if you know what I mean.”

Martha turned to Crystal, “Can you drive the tractor?”

She laughed. “There’s nothing I can’t drive.”

“Well, then, how about we rumble, people?”

Within minutes, I watched as they made their way under the barn to where the tractor was parked. What a sight they made. All of them carried rifles from Tom’s gun cabinet. Crystal threw hers in the tractor bucket. Hazel and Betty were wearing, you guessed it, their long coats and goggles, and Martha was wearing her chaps and jeans. All of them walked behind Crystal, who drove the tractor.

In minutes, the group had disappeared beyond the house spotlights and all I heard were voices yelling out and the sound of the tractor engine with its headlights glaring in the distance, as they traversed the far back field. I had no idea what they were doing, but hoped they did.

Then I heard several shots ring out and cringed, praying they wouldn’t shoot each other. I had visions of dialing 911, trying to explain why three senior citizens and our Harley girl were out target shooting in the dead of night.

I came up short. …Oh, my God, what was that smell?

Chapter 28

Aftershock & Aftermath

Running from room to room, I slammed shut all the open windows, then heard shouting and pounding coming from the lower, side garage door. Female voices were arguing and yelling at each other, while obviously taking turns beating the door with their fists. I flew down the garage steps, raced over, and whipped the door open.

Oh, my!

I was momentarily speechless. I won’t even attempt to describe the rank odor that slapped me breathless, nor the explicit visuals of the four naked women before me, all holding rifles. There were no descriptive words available that would do this unexpected image justice. Let’s just say, that the thirty something, Crystal, was easier on the eyes.

“What the…?” I said, pinching my nose. I couldn’t talk.

“Well, just don’t stand there! Let us in,” yelled Martha.

I was unceremoniously shoved to the side as the four smelly women scrambled past me and raced up the stairs.

Crystal turned to me. “We buried our clothes with the skunks in the back field because they sprayed all of us.”

There were four full baths in the house, and in seconds I could already hear showers running, while trying not to gag from the residual smell still lingering in the garage.

A half an hour later we all gathered in the family room with glasses of wine, one beer, and a lot of perfume. Heads were still dripping from their multiple shampoos. I served cheese and crackers, but to tell you the truth, they were only interested in the alcohol. I couldn’t blame them. Now cleansed and detoxed, they were quite animated.

Martha was smiling triumphantly. “We got them all!”

Crystal took a swig of beer and gestured toward the trio.

“You do realize the three of them are all crazy, right?”

I was trying not to laugh. “Was it that bad?”

“I’ve been in cycle accidents that have scared me more.”

Betty appeared exhilarated by the whole ordeal. “Why, Samantha, it was the most exciting encounter, and when we were done, we jumped into the tractor bucket and Crystal raced back to the barn. Although naked to the elements, it certainly felt liberating racing back across those fields.”

Hazel pushed back some damp, stray hairs. “We got the drop on them. Unfortunately, all six of them sprayed us before we got off our second round.”

“Luckily, I am a crack shot,” said Martha grinning. “We caught them in the back field. They were as sly as foxes, but thanks to the driving skills of Crystal and…” she turned to Hazel and Betty, nodding, “excellent reinforcements, we nailed those suckers and did the big three’s mighty quick.”

“What are the big three’s?” I asked, pulling a blank.

“Out west it means, shoot’em, shovel’em, and shut up.”

Well, I guess that about sums up this chapter, doesn’t it?

Chapter 29

What’s Next?

I wondered what would happen next? Armed with my hi-tech, adventurous, savvy crew, I was really looking forward to uncovering a lead that would move us along. But with this bunch, there was no predicting anything.

Now there was a wrinkle thrown into the mix that none of us expected. Clay never returned to the farm that night. Numerous attempts at calling his cell went to voicemail. An unusual silence came over the group.

No one could figure out what might have happened to him. And no one was willing to speculate, either. So the next morning at the table, everyone ate their breakfast dished out by me for a few minutes in a noticeable veil of silence, a true rarity for this group.

A clearly disturbed Martha finally said, “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either,” said Betty, frowning. “He was the one person we thought we could count on.”

“What could have happened?” asked Crystal, eyeing me.

I shrugged. “Hopefully, nothing that can’t be explained away, and nothing we’re going to regret.”

Having read between the lines, everyone turned to me.

“What?” I snapped when I realized I’d said too much.

“Has he ever done this before?” Crystal asked.

I hated to bring an awkward subject up, but I couldn’t lie. “Yes. Sometimes he just picks up and leaves with no explanation whatsoever, thus our on and off relationship.”

I could tell that was not what they wanted to hear, but the truth was the truth. He always managed to vanish at the most inopportune times and this definitely qualified as one.

“Well, what do we do now?” Crystal asked, exasperated.

My mind was imagining the worst, but rooting for the best. Other than the tractor, he had the only drivable vehicle on the property. Worse yet, what would I tell Sally? I had no intention of buying her a truck. So, he’d better haul butt.

Knowing Clay’s skills, I knew he could handle himself, regardless of the situation, but I was still worried and didn’t want to let on how much. He was as predictable as an upset stomach right after I’d devoured a whole box of candy, but like an idiot I went back for more, unable to stop myself.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but this has been one hell of a day,” said Martha.

Crystal looked over to her. “I disagree. Every day with you is one hell of a day.”

Hazel huffed. “She drives Betty and me nuts, too.”

“Look on the bright side,” said Betty. “She may be over-the-top sometimes, but would we be happy just sitting in a senior center doing bead work all day? We’d go crazy!”

Ha! So they drove me crazy, instead.

Chapter 30

Dissecting Thoughts Not Fit To Print

Once again, how would I write down what was going on when I didn’t even know myself? My agent and editor already thought my life was over-the-top. I tried to lessen their anxiety for them putting up with my wild capers when I, by some small miracle, seemed to manage at the very last minute to squeak across those deadlines by delivering a somewhat unusual and unexpected mystery.

The skeptical emails I received from my editor were amusing. After looking at what happens to me from her viewpoint, maybe she was right. It all seemed off-the-wall. At least someone was amused by the absurdity of my life.

Just when I thought things were looking up in the clue department, I find myself walking down another road that led me to something else. It sure looked as if I had gotten involved in another tangled affair.

You see, I write like I cook, cleaning up on the fly, but this time, I think I’d have to do a lot more cleaning up than usual. If Clay didn’t get back with a good explanation of why he never responded about what was going on with the Boston angle, I might take a hiatus from this relationship thing because, I felt shortchanged in the trust department.

Why didn’t he call me?

I laughed. What relationship? Where was the big sit-down we planned? Out the window, like usual. Something always managed to come up, or one of us got cold feet, finding an excuse from signing on that dotted line.

Of course, we sort of have this conflict going on about out-besting each other. Hey, a little competition goes a long way, right? Always keep them guessing, that’s my motto. Don’t give the store away. Create demand.

If he came back and told us there was no suspicious Boston connection, then there had to be something we weren’t getting, or we were looking at it the wrong way. Maybe I could speak to Sally’s neighbor, Jacob, across the street. He was an artist with a home studio.

Martha and the two bookworms took off for the library to dig up more dirt. Crystal, who was on her way to check out that stallion, whose name she said was Boss, explained he was an old harness racer with a history of being abused.

Story goes that George approached Sally and Tom about adopting Boss because his wife, Sarah was going to euthanize him. After hearing that, I wondered why? They said yes, of course. But after Sally and Tom tried to unsuccessfully to get Boss used to being with their three gentle horses, Sally decided that rather than give him back to be put to sleep, they would carve out a corral in their property and hopefully one day Boss might just come around with their horses one at a time. I seriously had my doubts though. I mean, come on!

Odds of that happening were slim to none.

Chapter 31

Well-intentioned Intentions?

Before lunch, I finally received a text. Clay would arrive for a late lunch after being delayed, making one last contact in Boston. He said he had some interesting news.

As a side note, he added he was sorry about not contacting me, but with all that was going on, and rushing around, he had misplaced his phone, but then found it.

Yeah, and I am the tooth fairy!

But I let it slide. I was more interested in what he had to say. By the time I heard tires on the gravel drive, I had lunch already set out on the table with two large pitchers of sweet, southern iced tea, a recent favorite of mine, and some thick turkey club sandwiches, chips, and pickles.

Everyone was talking away as they came through the door at the same time. Martha, Hazel and Betty were back from the library, and Crystal had returned from her visit to oversee Boss’ food and water. I caught that excited glint in Clay’s eye and motioned him to come over handing him a glass of iced tea and mentally forgave him.

He was safe.

“Well, what happened?” I asked, eager to find out.

The kitchen went silent as everyone turned to hear what Clay had to say. His absence had been a main topic of over-speculation. The subject was exhausted hours ago, but hyperbole and hunches still lingered in the air.

He smiled and started filling his plate. “I’m starved.”

Martha edged forward, impatient as usual. “Yeah, yeah, you’re hungry. Big deal. What the heck did you find out?”

He set his plate down and sat at the table. In minutes, everyone had thrown sandwiches with reckless abandon onto their plates and sat waiting to hear the latest info.

“What we initially heard,” said Clay, “about Robinson’s relatives not being close-knit was true. They were only concerned with the money angle. But this is where it gets interesting. Robinson had a will in place when he died. It stipulated that his property couldn’t be divided into lots. It was to stay with only one house on it because it had been previously donated in a land conservation easement.”

I smiled. “So, it could still be sold, but with conditions.”

“And if a developer bought it for a subdivision, he would then have to pay back about twenty year’s worth of previously reduced taxes to reverse the easement.”

“Clever! Because that would be cost prohibitive.”

“Plus, they would have to get zoning permission, but it was the last clause in the will that was the real surprise.”

“And what was that?” Crystal asked.

“It instructed that Jackson Porter could graze his cattle on a portion of it for ten years regardless of who owned it.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” said Crystal.

“That’s what I thought. Then I found out who Jackson’s mother was, which made it all the more mystifying.”

Chapter 32

Hey, You’re Killing Me

Everyone stared around the group, mentally trying to out-think the other about who this mystery woman might be. There wasn’t one single nibble or speculation coming forth, so it was up to Clay to verbally hand it over.

He leaned back after a few bites of food, taking his sweet old time, drawing out the suspense.

“Okay, quit dragging it out,” I said, laughing.

“Yeah,” said Martha. “Spit it out. You’re killing us.”

“Her name was Helen Mason, and the woman that was murdered during that home invasion, who just so happens to have had those water rights to the well here, remember?”

Well, you could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed. No one, including me, had expected that one.

“You sure?” Betty asked. “Their names are different.”

“Anyone can legally change their name. It’s done a lot.”

“How old was she?” asked Hazel.

“Fifty-five years old.”

Now, why would Jackson keep his past quiet?

I gave Clay a suspicious look. “Exactly how do you find this stuff out? Or shouldn’t we be asking?”

Clay winked, and stood up. “That’s on a need to know basis. Hey, I’m going for a Harley ride, any takers?”

I declined. “I think I’ll go walk over to the neighbor’s across the road to see what information I can scare up.”

Crystal got up. “I can never get enough Harley rides.”

We were all about to go our separate ways when Martha remembered something. “Speaking of the neighbors, we almost plumb forgot about our library visit.”

Hazel sat back down. “Why, yes, we did, didn’t we?”

“I think you will find this interesting, Sam,” said Betty.

Martha scooted closer to the table. “Remember we told you about Robinson and the lumber truck?”

“Yeah, what about it?” I asked, leaning in.

“That woman at the library forgot to mention that her brother’s cousin’s headlights flashed on something the other evening in the most unexpected place.”

Betty laughed. “And not where you’d expect it.”

“And where might that be?” I asked.

“Across the street at Sally’s neighbor’s house.”

“Why, that’s Jacob’s house!” said Crystal.

“Well, what was this something he saw?” I asked.

“Someone, a man that looked familiar,” said Betty.

“Well, who was it?” I asked.

Hazel smiled. “That same guy who was the lumber truck driver that pulled away from Robinson’s.”

“How is he so sure it was him?” Crystal asked.

“Not many people around here have bright red hair.”

Oh, the possibilities on this thing were proving endless.

Chapter 33

Crowding & Clouding My Field of Vision

I was sitting at my laptop, sorting through all the players that were crowding the field and trying to make sense of my info. It was murky at best, but I was determined.

This is what I had so far:

Crystal’s cousin, Sally, and her husband, Tom, owned the farm where we were staying. They had three horses. No, make that four. I forgot Boss that wired stallion.

Robinson was the neighbor adjacent to Sally, who was now deceased, and had lived down the road from her place.

The Sarah Smith and her older husband, George, who was deaf, lived down from Sally’s, angled across from Robinson’s place. It was their woods that were stolen.

Jackson Porter owned the parcel down from Sarah’s at another angle across the dirt road from Robinson’s place. Jackson was an unexpected recipient of pastureland, was also that murdered woman, Helen Mason’s son, plus, he was Sarah’s former employee, a biker, and an experimental cattle owner, who now had his own parcel where I took that embarrassing spill in the drink.

Did you get all that?

Millicent and Major Fielding, the elderly couple, lived almost directly across from Jackson on the flipside of Robinson’s property.

All of them were from Boston, or had some kind of connection to Boston.

I had yet to meet Jacob, the artist who lived directly across from Sally and Tom.

At this point in my enquiries my questions were:

Who stole the lumber from Sally? No clue. Relevant?

Was it a motive other than money? I doubted that.

Was I reading too much into the Boston angle? Perhaps.

Why did Jackson work at Sarah’s? Good question!

Why did Jackson buy that particular property? Not sure.

Why would Robinson sell to Jackson? Still a mystery.

Why did everyone want Robinson’s property? No clue.

How did the neighbor, Jacob know that driver? No clue.

What am I going to do about Clay? No clue.

Do I want to keep my relationship with him? Maybe.

Okay, so maybe those last two questions had absolutely nothing to do with my mystery, but they sure had a lot to do with my life, or lack thereof.

You know, I think my cognitive skills were affected, too.

Chapter 34

Don’t Even Go There

How hard could this be? I was merely inquiring about a simple thing like missing woods. Jacob either knew something or he didn’t. But lately, nothing was proving to be that simple. It was becoming confusing and complicated. Somehow I felt, or was finding out, that a lot of it was interconnected. Was he, too? I was about to find out.

After a minute, the front door swung open and a tall, wiry, gray-bearded man stood there staring down at me.

I extended my hand. “Hi, Jacob, my name is Samantha Jamison, and I’m housesitting Sally and Tom’s house across the way for them while they are away.”

He hesitated then extended his hand. “Where’s Dan?”

“Oh, he’s gone to visit relatives in Connecticut.”

“What do you want?”

Blunt and a bottom-line oriented guy. Good. “May I come in? Sally suggested that I speak to you.”

“I guess,” he said reluctantly, stepping aside to let me in.

The minute I crossed the threshold I was assaulted by an assortment of scents: oils, alcohol, thinners, and the like, permeating the air. My eyes traveled over the room, which was covered with canvases resting on or leaning against every imaginable surface. I knew there had to be furniture buried underneath there somewhere, but with the massive drop-cloths covering most of it, it was hard to tell.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked.

I looked around, wondering where? “Sure.”

“Follow me back to the kitchen.”

I did and was shocked to enter a remarkably bright room. Half of it was the kitchen area with an island and stools. The other half was obviously his studio. One whole wall was sheer glass with a palladium glass arch above it reaching to the open rafters. It was remarkable. I almost wanted to put sunglasses on with all the sun streaming through and bouncing off the stark-white painted interior.

“This is amazing!” I said, admiring the space.

He finally grinned. “I get that reaction the first time someone enters this area. But then again, I don’t often let people invade my personal space so to speak.”

I turned to face him, smiling. “Well, I feel honored.”

He relaxed somewhat and began making coffee, but then glanced up at me. “Besides, you look harmless enough.”

I laughed. “Just wait. You don’t really know me, yet.”

As he made himself busy grabbing mugs, I walked around checking out some uncovered paintings. It seemed no medium was off limits. Landscapes and portraits in oils, acrylic, and watercolors were scattered about haphazardly. It was hard to pick out an instant favorite. Impressive.

He handed me a mug. “What are you looking for?”

Straight-faced, I said, “Sarah Smith’s woods.”

Chapter 35

I Could Not See The Trees For The Forest

Jacob almost spilled his coffee, but caught himself.

“Why would you be looking for Sarah’s woods?”

I briefly explained her call to me, what I saw that afternoon looking at her missing woods, and how it was a concern where there were rural wooded areas locally and elsewhere in the state.

“She’s right. A few municipalities are having problems. Thieves are hitting during the week because most people who are day-trippers come up on weekends. Plus, they also hit off season when there are less tourists and sightseers about. But I guess they’ve been getting bolder, striking more frequently, taking out whole sections of forests.”

I listened as he told a few stories of victims who lost chunks of their woodlands by people who acted like they had the owner’s permission to cut it down if questioned.

“Sounds more like clear-cutting to me,” I said. “After what I saw at Sarah’s, it was as though someone nuked the area. Have you seen or heard any gossip floating around about any trucks or individuals in the area who seem out of place?” I watched him closely for a reaction.

“Not anything that would stir my interest. I’m usually busy here in my studio painting. Sometimes I lose all track of time, and, before you know it, it’s dark.”

“But the strangest things are sighted well after dark.”

He was about to set his mug down on the counter, but stopped mid-move and turned to me. In a flash, he recouped and slowly set it down. “This is a rural area. Lots of things go on after dark. It goes with the territory.”

What a strange answer!

I changed direction again, looking for any hesitation.

“Do you know Jackson Porter?”

“The one who bought that property down from Sarah?”

I played along, knowing he already knew more than he was letting on. “Yeah, the one and only, and a semi-quasi Harley, cattle-raising kind of guy.”

He laughed. “You have a good sense of humor.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well, he used to work for Sarah for a while, and I guess he decided to grab a chance to change his future.”

“I was sort of surprised how he went about it, though.”

He laughed. “You mean getting his meal ticket off of Sarah, while working on the side for Robinson?”

I was surprised, but then I wasn’t, not really. Obviously, this was another town with a gossip grapevine, and he was only giving away so much to an outsider.

“I’m getting closer, but can’t catch a break,” I said.

“Step away like an artist does for better perspective.”

“Maybe I need to cut back a few trees myself.”

Chapter 36

Going Batty

Disappointed Jacob hadn’t said more, I headed back to the farm. Erratic voices echoed from upstairs. I double-blinked when a very upset Hazel and Betty flew down the steps wearing jackets, goggles, gloves, and carrying brooms, their hair sticking out in frazzled patches.

“Oh, Sam, thank goodness you are here!” Betty said.

I looked from one to the other. “What’s going on?”

Betty grabbed my arm. “There is a bat in the house!”

I stepped back. “…A what?”

“My exact words,” said an exhausted Hazel.

I looked around. “Where is Martha? Is she okay?”

Betty appeared annoyed. “She’s locked in her room.”

“She’s not coming out until it’s gone,” griped Hazel.

“Are you kidding? That’s not like her. She’s ruthless.”

“Think again,” said Betty, trying to hold it together.

“At first I thought it was a bird,” said Hazel, “but Betty, who is a bird enthusiast, said no. It is definitely a bat.”

“How did it get in?”

“We don’t know,” explained Betty. “We heard loud thumps, then Martha came out yelling from her room with a bat flying right behind her. She must have slept in there with that vampire all night long and didn’t have a clue.”

Hazel held back a snicker. “It sort of freaked her out.”

“Were any doors left open last night?” I asked.

“The only door that was opened was the one leading out to that second floor terrace over the library. Martha wanted us to come out last night to hear a lone coyote howling.”

“Well, that’s how he got in, then. Dan warned me that a few of them nest in the rafters of the barn.”

“What do we do now?” asked a panicky Betty.

Hazel chuckled. “Maybe we should let him fly around for a while, just to keep Martha quiet and locked in her room. You know how bossy she gets.”

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” said Betty.

I glared at the two. “You’re joking, right?”

Reluctantly, Hazel agreed. “I guess he has got to go.”

“Why is Martha acting so strange?” I asked.

“Goes back to her childhood, her going into a cave on a dare. She’d been warned it was dangerous by her parents.”

“That sounds like her. She can be quite tenacious.”

“Not this time,” Hazel said. “She’s gone underground.”

“Where is the bat now?” I asked, looking around.

“Flying back and forth in the upper hallway,” said Betty.

“Sounds like he’s looking for a way out using his radar.”

Betty and Hazel just stood there and nodded mutely.

Suddenly, I realized exactly where all this was going and headed for the back stairway alone, but not before grabbing Tom’s fishing boots, jacket, gloves, hat, and snatching Betty’s goggles off her head.

Chapter 37

Coming & Going

I snuck up the back steps, tapped on Martha’s door, and tried the handle. Locked. “Martha, come out and help.”

“Not in my lifetime. You are on your own, sister.”

Having no choice, I opened the terrace door, snuck back down the steps, raced up the main staircase, carrying one of their discarded brooms and waited for the next bat fly-over.

Game time! Okay, so I hit the wall a few times, missed, and panicked, then hit the floor when he buzzed me, but I eventually got him aimed toward the other end of the hall.

When I saw him veer toward the right, I raced down the hallway and caught a visual of him flying out that door and slammed it shut. Triumphantly I made my way back down the hallway toward the foyer and clomped down the stairs for my victory dance, only to find that Betty and Hazel had disappeared and the foyer doorbell was ringing repeatedly.

Still celebrating my victory, I whipped open the door, surprised to find myself staring at an elderly man, who staggered backward with a look of sheer horror. I was raising my hand to take off the goggles for a better look, when he swung his cane to hit me. I reached out to stop him because I was within firing range of a severe concussion. It then turned into a wrestling match to grab that damn cane. For an old man, his strength caught me off guard.

“Wait,” I finally said, breathless. “This isn’t working.”

“Let go!” he yelled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Upset, I said, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He backed up in defense. “Watch it. I’m an old man.”

“You could have fooled me with that lethal weapon.”

He looked down at his cane. “I need it to get around.”

“And I need my head to think. You almost cracked it.”

“Who are you?” he asked loudly, still distressed.

I started dismantling my gear. “I’m Samantha Jamison.”

“Who? Speak up young lady, I am hard of hearing.”

Then it hit. This was Sarah’s elderly husband, George. Slightly stooped over, his thickly-veined hands gripped his cane like talons, reminding me of a hawk with beady eyes, sharp, pointed nose, and balding head with receded white hair. And like a hawk, he wasn’t smiling.

Grim-faced, he said, “Well, young lady, why didn’t you say something, instead of trying to scare me to death.”

I had gotten a good look in the foyer mirror before finally taking everything off and jerked back, scaring myself. I guess I was lucky the old man didn’t die on the spot and attempted an apology. “I’m sorry, but I was just trying to get rid of a bat that snuck into the house last night.”

“I’m too old for this. You made quite a shocking sight.”

I almost said, ‘So did you,’ but that wouldn’t have been appropriate considering the circumstances, with him being elderly, obnoxious, and all. “I guess I did. Come on in.”

“Now, who are these beauties?” He asked, walking in.

Chapter 38

Beauties & The Beast

My trio of trouble had miraculously appeared out of thin air. I eyed them suspiciously as George moved by me to shake each of their hands, loudly introducing himself and surprisingly not raising his cane once, a good sign.

I slipped in a reminder. “And how is your wife, Sarah?”

Martha shot me that look, then said, “Is she still upset?”

He was confused. “What?” he asked loudly. “Speak up.”

Martha got closer. “I said have you caught the culprit?”

He smiled. “No hot chocolate. I’ll have coffee though.”

The four of us looked at each other, wondering if we heard the same thing coming from his lips.

“She was asking about your trees,” I said, speaking up.

“No, I don’t drink teas!”

I leaned in closer. “She asked about your missing trees.”

“Oh, that! The minute I heard about that from Sarah, I got my rifle down off the mantle, cleaned it, and loaded it.”

I shivered, making a mental note not to cross his path.

“Have you seen anyone suspicious walking your land?” Betty asked, upping her volume.

“Come to think of it,” he said, “I did see a hiker once or twice cutting through our place wearing a backpack. But that happens a lot around here. Hikers think they are on forestry land and you have to warn them off.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too,” I said, remembering what Crystal told me about Sally and Tom catching someone camping in their woods and fishing in their pond, thinking it was public forest land, their signs conveniently torn off.

Could they have been scoping the land for a hit?

If I asked him for a description of the hiker, as I had asked Sally, I’m sure all I would get is a generic description that would fit just about any camper or hiker in the area, already camouflaged in hat, hiking attire, and jacket.

Suddenly, he banged his cane on the floor, making the four of us jump. He got all excited. “Wait a minute! There was one time when I saw a hiker and grabbed my binoculars to have a better look. Sarah had bought them for me. They have an automatic zoom lens. I get bored, so I spend an hour or two at the window looking out.”

Hazel jumped in. “I bet nothing gets passed your eagle eyes.” She sucked in her breath when she realized what she said. “…I mean you seem so watchful. …I mean so sharp.”

Betty patted Hazel, who by now was flustered by her references to his image. “Give it up, dear,” she whispered.

Thankfully, not noticing Hazel’s accidental references to his undeniably feathered-family resemblance, he replied, “I did notice one thing with that super-strength, zoom lens. His ear was pierced with a red stone.” George looked at his watch, adding, “Oh, Sarah’s due back. I have to leave.”

Just like me, with this chapter.

Chapter 39

Staying In Character

I paused, staring at my laptop. That was the third sighting, two of which were mine. Was it Jackson? Most likely. Was he out for a simple hike, or checking the terrain for other endeavors? What was he looking for? Why was he walking their property? Was he seen before the stripping of the trees or after? I had to find out.

Why couldn’t Sara’s husband identify him? Probably because of the clothing, hat, and sunglasses. I saw George squinting when he was right in front of us. Bad eyes.

Then how did he spot that small stone? Good question.

Not too many males walked around with rubies in their ears, diamonds maybe, but not rubies. Was it the same person? Was it a noteworthy clue, or a silly observation by an old man, who seemed confused most of the time?

I’d make two more visits later. One was to the Fieldings. I had a feeling they knew more. The other was Jackson. I didn’t understand why he was so interested in staying in the area. Was it because of his murdered mother, money, or for something more sinister?

Crystal and Clay were due back shortly and we were all planning to head down to Weirs Beach for the evening. I was looking forward to the night out. With everyone’s assorted interests, it should prove to be interesting.

I was hopeful this time we would all stay together. Some of us, and I won’t mention names here, needed some supervision. Not that I didn’t trust them, but there was that safety factor that I felt responsible for. There was the age factor, too. I didn’t feel that comfortable leaving the three troublemakers alone for any length of time.

Safety was definitely a priority. I had gotten protective where they were concerned. They always seemed to pick up a scent and take it without any precaution, instead of weighing the risks. They usually up and ran with it.

Come to think of it, my mind walked in that direction, also. The irresistible temptation to snoop where I shouldn’t be far outweighed a normal person’s.

I leaned toward embracing risks now.

It gets me what I want most of the time. What I haven’t learned to embrace are the consequences. And because of that, I’ve learned to be suspicious of people’s motives.

As far as this evening was concerned, I was sure there would be arguing. I would be feeling the love/hate thing. It was sort of an adrenaline rush, knowing my life and safety hung in the balance with this bunch. I have always lived a sheltered life, at first feeling safe and secure with Stephen, but now I was embracing a new way of thinking. I was becoming a fearless protagonist.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Chapter 40

Catching A Break

Once there, we scattered in different directions, deciding to meet back at Ciao Baby’s tattoo tent later on. I left Martha, Hazel and Betty behind after Clay assured me they would be fine. Crystal left to meet friends attending the rally from back home and Clay and I were on our own.

I hated to admit it, but I was somewhat relieved. This mother-hen thing was thinning. I breathed deeply as we walked off, determined to enjoy the evening.

We roamed around looking at the different booths and trying on jackets, vests, and anything else that struck us as interesting. After a while though, Clay spotted someone he knew and said he’d be back. I told him not to worry, waving my cell in the air as he walked away.

Then I noticed some leather items a couple of booths down and cut behind some tents to take a short cut from the crowds. After making the pass behind the back of the first tent, I was roughly accosted and almost knocked to the ground. Recovering, I turned to get a good look at the rude individual who had caused it. It was getting dark, and even though it was still early, he was wearing sunglasses. Warily, I checked the rest of him out.

The outfit was the usual, a leather bandanna, jacket, scruffy jeans and boots. I scanned his fingers. They had no claim on them. Not that it meant anything. Today, everyone played that game, the on-and-off-again ring game.

“Hey, baby. And how are you this evening?” he greeted.

I paused, acutely aware he was behaving too familiar, then said, “I’m fine, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some leather gloves waiting for my wallet at the next booth.”

He laughed. “Nice comeback.”

I started to move away, dismissing further talk, but he grabbed my arm to stop me. I turned to look, first at my arm, and then at his face. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Keep your distance from all that meddling. It won’t prove healthy and is ruffling some feathers.”

I could feel my perspiration materializing as I stared at his reflective lenses, while his mouth did all the talking.

Show no fear.

“That is what I do best, meddle. Now, if you will kindly remove your hand from my arm, I’ll be on my way.”

He laughed. “I suggest you heed my advice.”

I laughed back unsteadily. “I suggest you drop dead.”

He stood there, and laughed again. “Get in line, Sam.”

I froze. He knew my name! “…I will. Right after you.”

He squeezed tighter. “Interference could be lethal.”

I got right up in his face, hissing. “Don’t push me. I’m hormonal right now.” I shook him off and walked away on rubbery legs, but somehow managed not to show it.

Who was he? Why the warning?

Chapter 41

I’m So Shook Up

I stood with a pair of leather gloves in my hand, but I had no idea when I had picked them up, nor exactly what they looked like. You know, it was like when you are staring at something, but not really seeing it.

What was that encounter about? Who was warning me? Why? There I go again with the questions, but I couldn’t help it. My mind was always asking questions I had no idea how to answer. There was definitely something I wasn’t picking up on and it was bugging me. I felt a hand slip around my waist and I jumped.

“Whoa! It’s only me,” said Clay, moving in closer.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting jumpy lately.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked with sudden concern.

I described the confrontation and Clay quickly scanned around us, looking for anything out of the ordinary. What did he expect to see? Everyone around was dressed pretty much the same.

“What did he look like?”

I looked at the crowd. “Like everyone else here.”

Clay was still upset and frustrated. “I guess that’s to be expected. Whoever it was knew exactly how to fit in, and by concealing their eyes didn’t leave you much to go on.”

I frowned. “I don’t even think I could give you much of an accurate read on his voice either because it seemed strained, like he was trying to camouflage his real one.”

“Again, that’s something I’d expect. What’s bugging me is why was he going after you?”

“I wish I had the answer to that. Right now, I’m at a disadvantage because I’m not sure what is going on.”

“What’s your take so far?” he asked.

“I know there’s definitely a money angle, but I can’t pinpoint exactly who is involved. You know the missing timber? It’s a proven moneymaker, but that isn’t the only thing. There’s more here than meets the eye.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“As more relationships are discovered, it creates more suspicion because they all lead back to one common thing: Robinson’s property.”

“Maybe for confusion, obscuring what’s really there.”

I looked at Clay, intrigued by his take. “You know, you might be right. Maybe there are more shared relationships going on and they are using excess decoys to confuse and distract all of us.”

“The question is why?”

“That, my dear Watson, is what we have to figure out.”

Time to get back to work and figure this thing out.

Chapter 42

Walking My Baby Back

By the time we made our way back to the tattoo tent, Clay had offered to check the background of Jacob, the artist across the street. That left me free to see the Fieldings and Jackson Porter to find out what else I could dig up.

I also had plans for my three senior research buddies to visit the Smiths, knowing the trio could easily talk a snake out of its own venom. I’d send Crystal to ask Ciao Baby, the tattoo master, about the latest gossip. Maybe there might be something floating around involving a motorcycle angle, other than the normal riffraff trouble that an event of this kind always attracts.

Besides the hikers, motorcyclists were everywhere, so the locals wouldn’t necessarily give them a second glance even on a back road. Eventually, they became a part of the backdrop, like the mountain ranges.

Martha greeted us enthusiastically. “Well, they did it!”

“Who did what?” I asked, uncertainly.

She pointed over to Hazel and Betty. “They did”

Then it hit me. “…They didn’t!”

Betty came right over. “We got a small butterfly tattoo.”

I shot Martha a look. “You’ve become a bad influence.”

Martha grinned. “Why, thank you, Sam! I try my best.”

Still disturbed, I turned toward Hazel and Betty, not sure I wanted to ask exactly where those tattoos were located.

Hazel was animated. “It was thrilling. I’ve never done something like this before. Do you want us to show you?”

I took a step back. “Does this involve removing clothes? Because if it does, I’m not sure I’m prepared to see body parts again. I had my fill the other night.”

It was too late. She was already sitting on a chair and rolling up her pants on her right leg. To my relief, she stopped just above the ankle. There, perched on the inside, and just above her anklebone, was the smallest and prettiest butterfly I have ever seen.

Relieved, I finally smiled, and gratefully said to Ciao Baby, “Thank you for not letting them get carried away.”

“No problem.” He turned toward Martha, winking. “I like tattooing subjects that are hard to catch.”

She smirked, turning pink. “…But sting like a bee.”

Dismissing Martha, Betty called me over to show me hers. “Aren’t they adorable? How could we possibly go back home without picking up some kind of souvenir?”

Crystal grabbed that as a cue. “Speaking about picking up something, how about we all get some ribs and a beer?”

Agreeing, everyone headed toward the barbecue tent, including Ciao Baby, who was deep in conversation with Martha, as she giggled like a schoolgirl, totally enthralled.

I’ll end this part, but it didn’t end, not by a long shot.

Chapter 43

Chewing On More Than Baby Backs

Several bites in, I saw Ciao Baby grow still. He was staring off at something and nudged Clay who was sitting next to him. I was sitting on the other side of Clay. As a writer, I was so attuned to people’s body language that the minute I picked up negative vibes I stopped sipping my beer and tried to visually track what had caused so much attention, by not only Ciao Baby, but apparently Clay, too.

My eyes followed theirs. My breath hitched, not expecting what I was looking at. Across the way was Sarah Smith, but not the Sarah Smith I had met. This one was dressed from head to toe in leather. Her top was busting out all over with, well, let’s just say, most of Sarah Smith.

I subtly side-glanced Clay, and caught Ciao Baby whispering something in his ear. Mine perked up, trying desperately to hear what was being whispered back and forth. It was useless. I couldn’t hear a thing. If I leaned any closer, I’d be in Clay’s lap. He was so caught up in what Ciao Baby had to say he didn’t realize how far I was tilting in his direction to catch their conversation.

Suddenly, I felt eyes on me and caught Martha leaning forward, eyeing me from her seat next to Ciao Baby. She arched an eyebrow. Obviously picking up the same thing as I did. Something wasn’t right. Instinctively, we darted our eyes back toward Sarah. I almost said something, forgetting there were two males in between us, but caught myself.

She glanced back to me and gave me a questioning look.

I threw it back to her, not getting it, either. Why was Sarah here, of all places, and dressed like that?

Then I took another sip of beer and felt someone else’s eyes bearing down on me. They were Clay’s. I was staring straight ahead and now looking at Hazel and Betty.

He laughed. “You don’t fool me for a second. You’re like a fox and don’t miss a thing. You saw her, too, right?”

I turned and smiled at him. “So did Martha.”

Clay snapped his head around in Martha’s direction. She smiled at him, nodded, and then winked.

He turned back to me. “Are you two cosmically related? I’ve never seen two more-connected women in my life.”

I thought about the possibility. “No, I don’t think my sanity could handle her being related to me. Bad enough she works for me, is my friend, and fellow conspirator, but related? No, I don’t think so. My reputation’s bad enough.”

“What do you think of our visitor standing over there, talking it up with those three muscled, male rowdies?”

I looked back over at the four of them and shook my head in disapproval. “It’s baffling to say the least, seeing the Ms. Mayflower at this event.”

“Yeah, but suppose that’s the real her?” he asked.

Yes, that was a real game-changer.

Chapter 44

Setting The Stage

Out of nowhere, a beer bottle crash-landed in the middle of our table. We all pushed back and stood to avoid the mess. A second one landed dangerously close to me. Clay grabbed my arm and shoved me behind him in a protective stance. A second later, a couple more hit two other tables.

I glanced up to see a stunned Hazel and Betty just as two more hit another table. Wordlessly, I jerked my head in my direction. I was relieved when the two of them headed my way because I knew they’d never witnessed a brawl before and didn’t know its dangerous potential for turning into something worse. Come to think of it, I hadn’t experienced one either, but considering this site and these past few days, I wasn’t surprised it was happening now.

Then a thought hit me like a thunderbolt, the possibility of distraction, decoys, and misdirection and what might be going on here. I stepped sideways around Clay to confirm my suspicions. This was all too convenient a tactic because now there were several predictable fights going on.

Sure enough, Sarah and her cohorts were gone. After checking to see that Clay and Ciao Baby were already guiding the three ladies out of the area to safety, I didn’t wait for permission and headed in the opposite direction, shoving my way through all the chaos to where I had last spotted Sarah, hoping I wasn’t too late to catch up to them.

I got lucky and spotted her running behind some booths. The shadowy area played in my favor due to the spotty lighting, so I slipped easily in and out of the shadows.

Every once in a while, one of them turned and glanced back and I ducked down until I felt it was safe to take off again. I didn’t want to miss this opportunity to find out where they were headed. I didn’t have to wait long and was rewarded when they finally stopped running and came face to face with another individual who was obviously waiting for them behind one of the vendor tents.

I stooped down, out of breath, looking for something to go on. Then my eyes latched onto the individual they met up with, the one person who I had not expected to see again so soon. It was the same creepy guy who stopped me earlier, threatening me in his not-so-gentle manner.

Still wearing his sunglasses, he stood in the shadows, clutching a cell phone to his ear. But from the distance where I crouched, I couldn’t hear what was being said. I cautiously inched a little closer to catch his words.

“…I think she’s going to catch on sooner or later and we might want to consider changing things up. Either that, or we’ll have to try for another staged accident.”

I stiffened. Staged? My mind flashed back to Amanda and that potentially fatal accident. I heard a rustle and tried to turn, but was attacked from behind as a hand covered my mouth, muffling my scream.

Chapter 45

Attacking More Than The Truth

I struggled with my assailant on the ground. Had they spotted me following, and one of them circled back? Regrets hit me as I fought to free myself, swearing that in the future I’d make all this stuff up instead of investigating and fighting off these potentially lethal attacks.

At a clear disadvantage and facing backwards, I felt myself losing the battle because I couldn’t get a hand free. I was pinned face down with someone straddling my back. As I fought, I smelled leather and a familiar lavender scent. I stilled when I heard the lowered voice.

“Listen up and stop fighting, Sam, it’s me, Crystal.”

She loosened her grip and I rolled over to face her, panting. “Are you crazy, jumping me like that?”

“Oh,” she whispered back. “So, I’m supposed to tap you on the shoulder nice-like to get your attention?”

She was right. I would have lost it. “You followed me?”

She chuckled. “I figured two were better than one.”

Then I remembered the reason why I was there and sat upright to take a look over at the group, but apparently our scuffle had already scared them away. “They’re gone.”

Crystal brushed herself off. “Figures, with the way you fought, like I was going to kill you. What’s going on?”

I explained about seeing Sarah and those thugs, her so-called attire, my subsequent chase, and who they met up with, Mr. Obnoxious. Then I explained in detail his threat earlier that evening.

She chuckled. “You’ve been busy.”

“Well, I never expected to see Sarah here.” Then I told her what I overheard. “It adds something new to the mix.”

Crystal got the connection immediately. “That certainly explains the Amanda fiasco the other day.”

I voiced my thoughts on the possibility of Jackson being involved, but I wasn’t sure whether it was connected to this, or if he was operating on his own. At this point nothing would surprise me.

Hey, maybe Robinson wasn’t really dead.

I thought about that for a second. I was starting to enter the realm of UFO sightings and wasn’t going there, at least not right now, but retained that right in the future. It was definitely borderline even for little old me.

I brushed myself off. “I think I’ll go back to Robinson’s house, but I want to go when no one will lean over my shoulder, and second guess me, including Clay.”

“Since I’m not big on second guessing, how about I meet you after hours? I’m meeting up with Ciao Baby for a quick drink. I want to see what else I can dig up.”

“Perfect. I’ll sneak out after Clay’s asleep.”

“Let’s meet at his house at midnight, then.”

With Crystal for company, what could go wrong?

Chapter 46

Looking For Something More

My headlights swung across the back of Robinson’s property, and then his house. I parked and got out near the backdoor. I stood there staring at the house getting antsy. Crystal was late and I was anxious to start looking around.

Ignoring my better judgment, I turned on my flashlight, unlocked the padlock, and entered, but then stopped when I smelled those gagging odors and thought back to my recent personal threats. I hesitated. I was extremely vulnerable. And as usual, I ignored them and forced myself to move.

The old house gave off bad vibes, especially at night. Coming there in broad daylight was one thing. Being there after midnight and alone was something else. I felt the goose bumps on my arms as I began passing through each room, hearing the snap and crunch of dead bugs underfoot.

I heard something scurry across the floor, probably a mouse. I pitched the flashlight downward. The droppings were scattered everywhere. I didn’t know what was worse, seeing them or hearing them. As I walked, my instincts were telling me there had to be something we overlooked, so I tried to focus on thinking of off-the-wall possibilities. I did a visual sweep of the second floor and came up empty.

Where was Crystal?

I went back downstairs and entered Robinson’s bedroom off the dining room. I closed the drapes so my flashlight wouldn’t give me away. Then I swung the light around and scanned the room, concentrating on possibilities.

My hand held steady when I hit upon the bookcase.

I stared at it. No, that possibility was …way too simple.

Not large, it was already searched by the others, but something made me stop and consider that maybe we missed something obvious, but then again, not so obvious.

The furniture piece didn’t look too heavy. I put the flashlight on the bed and let it shine in the direction of the over-flowing bookcase so I could tackle the weight of it. Surprisingly, it slid away easily. When it was clear of the wall, I stopped and stared behind it, a small door. No lock, just a small door with a latch flat to the wall.

Impatient for Crystal to arrive and my curiosity killing me, I grabbed the flashlight from the bed and flashed it on the door as I lifted the painted-over latch, anxious to see what might be hidden there. At first it wouldn’t give, so I pulled harder and it finally opened.

I was both relieved and pleased to see what appeared to be a type of homemade wall safe, minus a combo lock. With his memory failing, I guess Robinson took that route.

Apparently, he also felt comfortable just placing his bookcase in front of it, hoping that no one would notice what was behind it. Keep it simple. And he was right. None of us took notice or thought to look behind the bookcase.

Note to self. Get beyond the obvious, think, really think, of the possibilities of what could be behind something.

I grabbed the knob and pulled on it. Like the other at first it didn’t budge, but after some effort, it gave way.

As Martha would say, ‘Good gracious, what have we here?’

More photos!

Chapter 47

Catching A Break

Just as I reached for the photos, I heard the floorboards creak in the kitchen area. Crystal’s here! I paused for just a sec, then quickly grabbed them and shoved them into my jacket pocket. I closed the small door, slid the bookcase back into place, but then bolted upright in a sudden panic.

Crystal would have called out to me. It wasn’t her!

The seconds were ticking away. I had to hide. My eyes frantically darted around the room then finally settled on the only hiding spot available, the bed. Hey, all I had to do was slide underneath that old, disgusting, cobwebby thing.

…No way. No how.

I considered ducking to the side of the bed, but then figured they’d find me anyway once they entered the room, so I stood there brazenly and waited for whoever was walking through the house. I heard them get closer and held my breath thinking, what do I do now? Well, bring it on. I flicked off my flashlight, leaned into the wall, and waited.

My hands fingered the photos in my pocket as the doorknob turned and the door slowly scraped open, then closed. I held my breath and stood there in the dark silently waiting. Considering my odds, this wouldn’t go well.

My mind briefly flashed on who it might be. I came up with a few suspects, which included Jackson Porter, Sarah Smith, and even possibly, Jacob, the artist across from Sally. I was prepared for some…one, but certainly not two.

Then a flashlight blinded me at first then it swung away. I got a good look at the couple. It was the Fieldings. Major, holding a gun, had it aimed at me. This was the last possible confrontation I could have imagined playing out.

“My goodness!” said a tense Millicent, exhaling in relief. “Samantha, you gave us quite a start. We thought we saw a light flashing around inside Robinson’s house driving home and figured someone had broken in. Major grabbed his gun and we came to investigate what was going on.”

I tried to speak, and for a moment was tongue-tied, but then after the shock of seeing them passed, I said, “No, I have a key. Sally and Tom asked me to check the place out periodically. I know the hour is a late, but I was in Weirs Beach this evening and was meeting one of my friends here to make sure everything was okay.”

Major remembered his gun and lowered it to my relief.

“Sorry, but we weren’t sure what was going on.”

Millicent smiled. “My Major is fond of Sally and Tom and has become protective about what is going on here.”

But the vehicle I drove there was Sally and Tom’s truck. It could have been them walking through the house. Why the gun? Was that their real intent? Was I being too suspicious? Maybe. This reinforced an important point.

Consider all possibilities behind people’s actions.

Chapter 48

Intruder # 3

I was about to ask them about Sally’s truck when we heard a floorboard squeak in the kitchen. None of us said a word. Major silently motioned for Millicent to walk over to where I was, as he quietly followed behind her, edging his way over to the two of us, his gun raised in the air again.

He looked at me, mouthing. “You expecting someone?”

“Crystal was supposed to meet me here,” I whispered.

He started to lower his gun, but Millicent grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wouldn’t she have called out by now?”

I thought about that. “Yes, but you guys didn’t.”

“Well, how do we know if it’s her?” he asked quietly.

“We don’t,” I said, motioning toward his flashlight.

He quickly turned it off and we pressed ourselves up against the wall. Not that it would have done any good, but why stand in the middle of the room and make ourselves an easy target? Millicent began to tremble standing wedged between Major and myself. Her panic traveled in my direction, but there was nothing I, or we, could do but wait.

In minutes, we heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the floorboards above us gave in to the weight of someone passing by overhead. In the dark, I could hear the quick intake of breaths by the three of us as we silently kept pace with whoever was up there walking around.

Then we heard footsteps on the staircase as they walked slowly from room to room, opening drawers and cabinets, searching, for what? Who was it? There was no way I was about to walk to the bedroom door and look out, either.

I was no idiot. I knew when to push my luck and when not to. Okay, so I occasionally goofed, but I wasn’t in the mood to take that chance. It could be anyone out there, and very likely carrying a loaded gun. You can’t talk to a gun, especially carried by someone who might be trigger-happy.

My breath held when the person paused nearby, but then their footsteps hurried passed Robinson’s bedroom door.

“What was that all about?” Millicent whispered.

“I was wondering the same thing myself,” I said.

Then we heard the reason why: an engine slowed down out front. We heard footsteps running toward the kitchen, and then the back door quickly opened and closed.

I turned to Millicent and Major, still whispering, “It sounds like whoever it was didn’t want to be caught here.”

We heard a truck start up and take off down the road.

I whispered, “But they should have been suspicious with our vehicles parked in the drive.”

“We walked and Sally parks here often,” said Major.

I nodded, getting their point. “So it looks like someone lives here. That means it was someone who knew that, and felt safe searching around the place.”

It also meant these two could’ve thought the same thing, thinking it was safe to enter, but then suddenly ran into me.

Chapter 49

Intruder # 4

Just as we were about to leave the room, we heard another creak coming from the kitchen area. Like instant replay, we backed up across the room, flattened ourselves once more against the wall, as Major instinctively turned off his flashlight and drew his gun out.

My mind was guessing who it was, especially after no one called out, which meant it wasn’t Crystal, again. I had a feeling we wouldn’t get a free pass this time. I whispered to Major, “You know how to use that thing, right?”

His chest expanded with indignation, like I had insulted his mother. “I’ll have you know, young lady, I was in the army. I am well-versed in the use of firearms.”

I considered my odds. “Just checking. More people own guns who shouldn’t and shoot the wrong target.”

Of course at that precise moment, I didn’t feel it was necessary to let him know that might include yours truly. I was good with a bat, though, indoors or out.

Instead of those footsteps climbing the stairs, they approached Robinson’s bedroom door. We froze as the doorknob turned and the door eased open. A thin beam of light roamed the far wall then slowly swung in our direction. Major aimed his gun, ready to shoot if necessary.

When the light hit the three of us, I heard a loud sigh. I knew that sigh and spoke quickly before someone got hurt.

“Hold on, Major! I wasn’t expecting Clay.”

Major turned to me. “You know this individual?”

“Yes,” I replied, giving a sigh of my own.

Clay gave a shadowy, sarcastic laugh from across the half-darkened room. “And quite intimately.”

I felt my face flush and turned away.

“And who is this young man, Samantha?” Millicent asked, stepping toward Clay, who had lowered his gun.

As Major lowered his, we gathered in the middle of the room, shaking hands after hasty introductions were made. With two flashlights now, there was plenty of light.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Clay.

“Crystal had trouble with her bike. Not getting through to you, she called me and said to get here just in case.”

I checked my cell. Dead. “Wait a sec. In case of what?”

“In case there’s trouble for a certain someone who is notorious for getting into situations beyond her control.”

Both Major and Millicent looked at me, questioningly.

I tried playing it down, shrugging slightly. “Well, there may have been one or two iffy incidents in the past when things …kind of got away from me.”

“Ha!” laughed Clay. “That’s a novel way of stating it.”

I shot him a warning look. “…Very …funny.”

Being Sam-savvy, he wisely changed the subject.

Chapter 50

Meeting Up

By the time Clay and I got home, lights were blazing away in the kitchen area, which meant that everyone was up, and after seeing Crystal’s motorcycle already in the garage, that meant she was back, too. We parked and joined everyone at the kitchen table.

Betty set out two more mugs and poured tea for Clay and me, then refilled the other mugs. She was a stickler for hospitality. Hazel reached over and offered us cookies.

“Well, by the look on your two faces, it was quite a night,” said Martha, snatching one of the cookies.

“Yes,” I said.

But then I honed in on Crystal. “By the look on your face, you did not. What happened?”

Crystal was sipping her beer instead of tea and wearing a frown. Something was up. “You first. Mine can wait.”

I explained my unexpected visitors. Clay then explained his cell call from Crystal, another surprise of the evening.

“How intriguing!” Hazel said. “Very Hercule Poirot!”

“Not quite,” I said, remembering. “With those smells in the dark, and those disgusting crunchy bugs underfoot, it wasn’t exactly thrilling. Being alone didn’t help, either.”

With a look of regret, Martha said, “I should have been there. My crime karma would’ve helped.”

“Let me tell you, Martha, for once I actually missed you being around, including your complaining.”

She gave me a sharp look. “What do you mean by that?”

Hazel interrupted. “You know exactly what she means.”

“I may be opinionated,” said Martha, “but…”

“Ha!” said Hazel, laughing. “That’s an understatement!”

Sitting in between them, Betty grabbed their wrists.

“Break it up. Let’s hear what they have to say, okay?”

Martha yanked her arm back. “By the way, Clay, if you took your motorcycle, why didn’t Sam hear your approach? She was already expecting Crystal on her bike.”

“I wasn’t sure what was going on when I saw a parked truck minus plates. Another car passed me, slowed down, and then kept going. I parked off to the side and walked.”

Hazel said, “How about letting us interview someone?”

“What about Millicent and Major?” Betty suggested.

“Good idea. Pay them a visit, then Sarah and George.”

Martha winked. “We can talk about AARP benefits.”

Hazel leaned in, looking at Martha. “You think so?”

Martha laughed. “You are so clueless.”

“Well, I do know they can get cheaper prescriptions!”

Betty chimed in. “I like the covers on their magazines.”

“You guys are just plain crazy, you know that?” said an annoyed Crystal, jumping up and pacing.

Martha sniffed. “And what has you acting so uppity?”

“I’m stressed out because my bike tire was slit tonight!”

Chapter 51

Cutting To The Truth

That sure put a stop to all the bantering back and forth. Crystal was visibly upset. Who would slice her tire? But the more I thought about it, she was attached to my group and what I was investigating. The results weren’t in yet about all of it, but I was still investigating, none-the-less, both Robinson’s place and Sarah’s missing woods.

Crystal finally sat down. “Ciao Baby and I had arranged to meet at the Weirs Beach, Tower Hill Tavern, a local bar and eatery. Apparently it’s a bike week hot spot, located on Lakeside Avenue, exactly where all of us were walking tonight. He said it was referred to as the Lakes Region’s Home of the Blues. It was packed by the time I got there.”

“It’s too bad we missed some good music,” Martha said.

Crystal frowned at the interruption, but didn’t retort.

Shrugging, Martha gestured. “…Please. Go ahead.”

“It was what Ciao Baby finally told me that got me.”

“And what was that?” Betty asked, scooting closer.

“About the dirty underbelly at this rally,” added Clay.

She turned on him. “Then why didn’t you tell me first?”

“Ciao Baby’s the Fed heading the task force.”

“So,” I said. “…You’re both working undercover?”

Martha laughed. “Well, don’t that beat all!”

“Two cases!” Hazel said, rubbing her hands together.

Clay stood. “Whoa! This is a totally separate case and not authorized for a bunch of women to be involved in.”

Martha shot him a dirty look. “Watch it. That’s sexist.”

“Take it any way you want, but you guys are not getting involved. This is dangerous.”

Crystal shot back, “But why keep me in the dark, Clay?”

I cut in. “So you wouldn’t be suspicious of Ciao Baby.”

Clay nodded. “He wanted Crystal’s unbiased take. Bikes were reported missing. Then the cops stopped a suspicious truck with stolen plates just before crossing the state line, discovering stolen bikes and parts coming from an illegal chop shop somewhere in the state. But they don’t know the location of it. It’s a perfect setup. With thousands of bikes around, people drinking, parking everywhere, and getting sloppy, their bikes end up stolen, used whole or chopped up for parts, and then shipped out of state in a flash.”

“So,” I said, “Ciao Baby’s tent setup as a tattoo artist was a front to keep his eyes and ears out there listening for gossip or catching the whereabouts of shady individuals.”

“His hobby comes in handy at these events. And that’s why we were interested in Sarah inside that barbecue tent.”

“She doesn’t have a record, does she?” asked Hazel.

“No. It was who she was with that got our attention.”

“Then we better find out why she was there.”

“What do you mean, we?” Clay asked. “Stay out of it.”

Martha and I made eye contact. She winked first.

I smiled. “We wouldn’t think of cramping your style.”

Chapter 52

Was It Really A Clue Or Knot?

The minute Clay left us for his shower, I remembered about the photos, pulled them from my pocket, and spread them out on the table for us to see. Everyone gathered behind me for a better look. I set down seven photos.

Six photos were of woods. At first I didn’t get it, but then I started to match them up, like they were a set of before and after shots. The befores were thick-forested land. The afters were of stripped, barren patches.

“Well, what do you know!” exclaimed Betty.

“It looks as though Robinson was out bird-watching and documenting areas that were being stripped,” said Hazel.

“He knew where, but did he know who?” Crystal asked.

“Maybe he tried to extort money?” suggested Martha.

“But from who?” I asked.

I remembered the seventh photo and turned it over.

“What an odd-looking shot,” said Betty, staring at it.

“Talk about a loose, slip knot,” said Hazel, laughing.

I stared over at her not getting her meaning.

“What in blazes does that mean?” Martha asked.

Ignoring her, Hazel directed her answer to the rest of us.

“Perhaps the whole thing is loosely tied together.”

“How?” I asked, still not quite getting her point.

“Two unintended scenarios loosely interlaced together,” Hazel said. “Whoever was ripping off people’s woods caught Robinson and are now looking for those photos.”

Crystal agreed. “Robinson could have been out bird-watching with a telescopic lens and accidentally stumbled upon what was going on while snapping some photos.”

“And started documenting what was going on,” I added.

“But what was the purpose of the seventh picture? Why did he take that?” Betty asked. “I don’t get it.”

“Look!” I said, spotting the edge of the photo and seeing a crooked view of someone’s jacketed arm with a chainsaw resting by a post. It had also caught a corner of a red barn.

“Think he got a good look at who it was?” Hazel asked.

Martha smiled. “Maybe as he snuck up, he was almost caught, ran, and the camera clicked one off.”

Betty stared at it. “He must have wanted proof, but it doesn’t show any landmarks of where it was taken. This could have been the corner of any barn or property.”

“But the perpetrator didn’t know that,” said Martha.

No one could come up with a location that felt familiar. We had not been here that long, but I still felt that we weren’t picking up on something that we should have.

Just about every barn in the area was painted red or was like Sally and Tom’s, which was white. It was little to go on, but at least it was something. We finally called it a night and I pocketed the photos and walked up the stairs. Checking out so many properties was impossible, but…

Was it possible one still held a clue?

Chapter 53

Beyond Relationships & Reproach

Driving the rusty old truck was quite an experience, shimmy and all. Thank goodness it wasn’t stick shift, or I would’ve caused major damage. Then I’d have to explain to Sally and Tom why their truck was up on a lift and being worked on by their local truck dealer when they returned.

I swung into the Fielding’s drive, already expecting Millicent and Major to be a little skittish around me since our experience at Robinson’s. I didn’t think they were used to being stalked or being a target for potential unknowns in the dead of night, even if Major was comfortable with guns.

Martha and the bookworms were visiting Sarah, Clay was still checking on Jacob, the artist, and Crystal was feeding the horses and preparing for the groundskeeper, Dan, whose early return was now thrown into the mix.

I was about to rap on their back door, when it swung open. Major greeted me. “What a surprise. We’re about to have tea. Millicent,” he called out, “get another cup.”

I shook his hand and followed him into their living room. Within a minute, Millicent came in with a tea tray. As she poured, I got right to the reason for my visit.

“Do you two have any idea what might be going on in the area? I mean, regarding any lumber trucks driving by?”

Millicent paused mid-pour. “Whatever do you mean?”

Major leaned in, intrigued by my questions. “Why?”

I looked from one to the other. Could they have seen anything that might help me? Or were they so wrapped up in their own world and dismissive about what went on that appeared unusual, the exception being Robinson’s house.

Thinking back, I had learned over the last couple of years that the people you least suspected of wrong-doing were the same individuals who were capable of duplicity, lying right to your face, while feigning innocence.

Okay, so I might be referring to Clay a little more than I intended at this point because of his past offenses before we became intimately involved. And I admit, I am involved.

It’s that my mind was in a fog lately. It seemed like I was going nowhere as a sleuth or writer in this. Maybe I had to separate myself from our relationship. It couldn’t be that hard, sort of like giving up my favorite candy.

No Clay? Hmmm…

I thought about that for all of two seconds, then smiled.

He was worth the toothache. He stays.

Who was the individual working behind the scene, stealing not only Sarah’s woods, but suddenly making me begin to question everyone’s reputation that was previously assumed beyond reproach?

In my books, no one was above reproach, not even me.

Chapter 54

A Mixed Bag Of M & M’s

Could Millicent and Major be trusted? I tested the waters by telling them about Sarah asking me to look into her missing woods. That was about as far as I wanted to go. I wasn’t about to confide my suspicions about Jackson Porter, or my catching sight of Sarah at the bike rally.

I wanted to wait until I knew a little more about them. I wasn’t sure where their alliances stood and who they were friends with, or what their real agenda was. And believe me, everyone lately seemed to have an agenda.

Major looked at his wife, and then at me. “We had heard rumors, but we didn’t realize they were so widespread. We are not that close to Sarah, but you know how gossip and news manages to spread in small towns, so eventually we did hear about it. The whole thing is very unfortunate.”

“Maybe,” said Millicent, “We should bring up…” She paused appearing reluctant to say more.

“Bring up what?” I asked, noticing her tone change as her eyes quickly darted from Major to me.

Major gently took her hand, rested it in his lap, and gave it a reassuring pat. She then continued: “We’ve been uncomfortable lately with all the traffic going back and forth on our street. It used to be so quiet, but recently there seems to be a lot of activity with dust flying everywhere.”

“What kind of activity?”

“It’s been mainly large vehicles,” said Major. “And mostly at night.”

Dare I ask? “Were any of them lumber trucks?”

“No,” he said. “These were vans, tarped trucks, and several large SUV’s. We could clearly see them because there is a bright street lamp right in front of our house.”

Disappointed in hearing they weren’t lumber trucks, I was still curious as to why all the activity. But considering their proximity to Interstate 93, and this being an offshoot off the paved road that ran parallel to it, and located smack in between two of the exits of that Interstate…

…Hmmm. Now, are you thinking what I’m thinking?

Millicent set her cup down firmly. “We were going to bring the subject up next time we spoke to you, regardless. We’re not only annoyed, but disturbed by all this activity.”

“What my wife is trying to ask is, could you find out what is going on? We believe it may affect our investment here and the tranquility of the area that we had hoped we finally found for our retirement. We thought this parcel was a good future investment, but now we are not so sure with all the traffic and associated noise.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

Instead of receiving helpful answers to my questions, I had another request and problem to add to my ‘to solve’ list. How could I help them if I couldn’t figure out what’s going on under everyone else’s noses? Including mine.

Chapter 55

Homecoming & Coming Home

That night was interesting. As usual, everybody was talking at once by the time dinner was on the table. I had never seen a group so excited. No, I take that back. They were always excited when working on a case or chasing a potential lead. I was the one who was always leery.

“I’m afraid,” said Clay, “other than the one sighting of that truck driver stopping at Jacob’s, who by the way has no police record whatsoever, I’d forget Jacob. Could be that truck simply got lost. So the jury is still out on Jacob.”

My disappointment was huge. I was hoping for some type of lead. Reluctantly, I turned my attention to Martha and her buddies, Betty and Hazel.

Martha was acting cagey, a quality I had to admire. She had a way of smiling and waiting until the room was completely silent, then gave them what they came for.

“Well, the three of us worked hard convincing Sarah and that husband of hers, eagle-eye George, that we were a bunch of biddies enthralled by what they had to say.”

“I hate to give compliments to Miss Arrogant, here,” said Hazel, “but she was good.”

Betty agreed. “Martha was brilliant, but Sarah proved to be suspiciously clever at deflecting questions we asked.”

“I’m positive she was hiding something,” said Martha. “With every question that was posed, she answered with a question of her own. She sounded just like a psychiatrist!”

“It was her husband who surprised us,” said Betty.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well,” said Martha, “George just kept wandering off the reservation with off-the-wall stuff that constantly disrupted the flow of the whole conversation.”

“Yes,” said Betty. “He kept going on about seeing vans from his window, heading from down the road.”

“Each time he brought the subject up, Sarah interrupted and veered off in another direction,” added Hazel.

“I was getting dizzy trying to stay coherent,” said Betty.

“Finally,” said Hazel, “Sarah had enough of his babble.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

Hazel started laughing. “She threatened to take away his binoculars and his diary if he kept interrupting.”

My ears perked up. “…What diary?”

Martha gave a sly smile. “His bird-watching diary.”

Oh, momma! She and I were on the same page. “You mean he’s a birdwatcher, too?”

She nodded. “Old Eagle-Eye just loves cataloguing those little suckers!”

I wondered what else he catalogued.

Or didn’t, but saw, anyway.

Then we all turned to Crystal…

Chapter 56

Crystal Clear

“Turn and look out that bay window,” began Crystal, pointing in the direction of the barn. “You’ll see by that light on, Dan, Sally’s groundskeeper, is back. A little early, don’t you think? But I guess when visiting someone for any length of time, it can get testy, family or not.”

I said, “Gee, I’ve never had that problem.” I scanned their faces trying not to smile, knowing what they were thinking as my senior crew stared everywhere but at me.

Martha finally looked. “Was that a sarcastic question?”

You know, that woman always turned it back on me. I smiled. If she were any other way, I’d be disappointed.

“After all we’ve been through, Martha? Of course not!”

“Good! Then I don’t have to waste a great retort.”

“…But at times, I can relate,” I added, laughing.

Hazel harrumphed. “Can’t we all!”

I heard Crystal snort.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“As usual, you’re all getting sidetracked,” she said.

“We always seem to, don’t we? Please, go ahead.”

“Well,” she continued, “Dan didn’t seem a bit surprised when I mentioned Sarah’s missing woods and Robinson’s house visitor. I thought that peculiar, considering…”

“Considering what?” Clay asked.

“It sounded like he already knew before he got back.”

“That’s interesting.” Betty asked.

“That’s what I thought, but then figured maybe he spoke to someone in town by cell before he got back.”

“So why would that be suspicious?” I asked.

“Just a hunch,” said Crystal. “At the time, it made me wonder what he’d been checking on in the first place.”

Hazel cut in. “Do you really think he might know something about what is going on?”

“…He might,” Clay said. “That is if he was in close contact with neighbors and friends around town.”

“But then I called Sally,” added Crystal. “She said that he’s a real loner and seldom goes out or has any visitors.”

“A little odd, right?” I asked no one in particular.

“How about I check out his background?” Clay offered.

“I’ll call Sally back for his job history,” said Crystal.

“Plus,” added Martha, “the three of us can go visit Millicent and that Major. They were on their way out last time we tried to see them, saying that there was a family emergency in Boston and they’d be back in a day or two.”

Crystal turned my way. “What’s on your agenda?”

“I think I’ll go pay our friend, Jackson Porter, a visit.”

“Looking for something specific?” she asked.

“No, just looking for more information on Dan.”

“He’s too slick. I wouldn’t go if I were you,” said Clay.

“Oh, Clay. You know how I can handle slick guys.”

Chapter 57

Adjusting My Perspective

I lucked out. Jackson’s gates were already open. I preferred the element of surprise. With his pastures dotted with cattle and ringed-in fencing, Jackson Porter’s drive first dipped downward, then weaved through pines, cedars, and stone outcroppings with impressive views of the mountain ranges. It explained why his property was assessed in the high range. After clearing the evergreens, I arrived at his two-story farmhouse. I eased to a stop and got out of the truck, disappointed. The surprise was on me.

A smiling Jackson was already standing there, waiting for me. How had he seen my approach from so far away? Were there surveillance cameras at the front gate? Was there something valuable around that required a heads up? I gave myself a mental slap to stop my rambling, suspicious mind and tried to focus on what he was saying.

“…so I’m glad to see you, Sam. I was going to give you a call. Come in. Sit and make yourself comfortable.”

“Call me about what?” I asked, as I walked inside, curious about why he seemed eager to speak to me.

I entered, taking in all the furnishings. There were no frills or anything fussy about it, exactly what I expected his taste would be. All the living room furniture was leather. The rest of the furniture was wood and simple in design, but weighty with a modest carved design along the edges. In addition to it being tasteful, what surprised me was it most likely came with a hefty price tag.

The room itself was spacious and opened up to the kitchen. It appeared he’d taken down a wall to give both rooms more light to take advantage of the mountain vistas that were breathtaking in the distance. The kitchen also had an expensive table and chairs with the latest stainless steel appliances. I tore my eyes away as I sat down.

How could he afford all this?

“I wanted to talk to you about the traffic going back and forth on this road, Sam. It’s unusual, but not enough of a problem to report to the police. I heard you were speaking to some neighbors. Has anyone else mentioned this?”

Was he fishing for what I had found out so far?

“Yes, they have. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Do you mind if I ask about your link with Robinson?”

He blinked twice, but then calmly asked, “…Why?”

“I was checking on him for Sally. Your name surfaced.”

“You’ve read the town hall records, haven’t you?”

Crystal had already checked for me. “Yes, I have.”

“I know I got a steal. There’s no crime in that, is there?”

“Just the deal of the century, I would think.”

“It’s not what you think. Nothing illegal was done.”

“But it sure looks suspicious. Want to enlighten me?”

“Robinson hired me to clean out his barn. I found a box with old diaries inside it. He was extremely grateful.”

I guess so. “Notice anything unusual about them?”

“They were handwritten in German and looked antique, but, surprisingly, they weren’t his main focus of interest.”

He had my complete attention. “What was?”

“Robinson claimed he had been searching for weeks and forgotten where he hid them and was relieved and excited when he noticed the pictures that were tucked inside the pages were still intact and undamaged.”

“What pictures?”

“I didn’t get a good look at all of them, just some.”

Hmmm… Where they war photos or something else?

“Considering the outcome, that was a convenient find.”

“It’s not what you think. I couldn’t help but notice some when they fell to the ground. I was picking them up just as Robinson came out to the barn to check on me.”

Chapter 58

An Unexpected Visual

This apparently was the driving force behind what sealed Robinson’s real estate deal with Jackson. Now, what was so important about those photos?

“Were they old war photos?” I asked. “I’ve learned that Robinson served overseas in Germany. But other than that, I don’t know of anything involving any diaries of his.”

He gave me a strange look. “I haven’t a clue about that. They were recent photos taken in the last couple of years, and the subject matter sort of surprised me.”

“What was it?” Could it be more properties?

“They included something I didn’t expect to see.”

“And what was that?”

“Sarah’s husband, George, that’s who.”

“Was he smiling?”

“Don’t joke about that gun-toting, cane-bashing nut.”

I smiled. “Yup, sounds like the same guy I met.”

“The photos caught him dismounting a horse, taken in photo sequence.”

But he was infirmed. How did he ride a horse?

Then I gave myself another mental slap. Of course infirmed people rode horses. Plus, he drove a car. That’s how he got to Sally’s house that day.

“He could’ve been helped onto the horse,” I suggested.

“That’s what I thought. So that didn’t seem odd.”

“Then what did?”

“Just before Robinson snatched those photos from my hands, I caught a glimpse of something disturbing. And here, all this time, I thought he was some tough dude acting hostile and aggressive.”

I already knew that Sarah’s George, old Eagle-Eye, was aggressive as hell, but what in the world was Jackson specifically referring to? What had George done?

Porter sat forward. “I caught a good look at that last photo and I know what I’m talking about.”

“I got that. I don’t doubt what you saw. Just tell me what was so disturbing about that last photo.”

“I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’d know that wild horse anywhere. It was Boss. Now, why would an old infirmed guy be riding a hostile, wild horse like that?”

I sat there staring directly at Jackson and felt he was telling me the truth. I remembered my reaction to Boss’ skittish behavior and the wild look in that stallion’s eye.

“That’s a good question,” I replied.

Jackson nodded. “I thought so.”

Now all I needed was a good answer.

Chapter 59

A Long Ride Home

After another half an hour of not finding out anything further from Jackson, I left disappointed. I was about to pull out from his gate, but hung back when I heard a truck approach. Slowing at the angled bend nearby, a tarped pickup truck eased on by me. My curiosity took over.

I waited a minute then pulled out onto the dirt lane and followed. It was dusk, but I figured that might play to my advantage. In a few minutes, they wouldn’t catch much more than my headlights anyway, so I felt safe tagging along. I could already hear Clay’s lecture. Well, too bad.

I checked my rearview mirror. The coast was clear. No other vehicles were following. I slid back as the driver pulled out onto the paved road and headed south. He traveled in and out, but was running parallel with Route 93. My intuition was telling me to keep following, but to be careful. So by the time they reached the interstate, I slowly eased back as traffic seemed on the light side, not wanting to be spotted and make whoever was driving suspicious.

But the minute darkness drifted in, I closed the gap. This was my break to finally get a plate number for Clay to run. I glanced up, squinting. …What? From the rear, another truck’s high-beams blinded me in my rearview mirror.

Hey, moron, why not pass me?

Just in case, I grabbed my cell, but it went airborne after a rough jolt to my rear bumper flipped it to the other floor mat. I stretched, but it was beyond my reach.

After looking up once more, I tore my eyes from the rearview just in time to see taillights flick on in front of me. Brakes! I hit mine before I slammed into the tarped truck, then froze. Both trucks were putting the squeeze on me!

My eyes flashed on my cell when it rang with a familiar song. Clay. No way could I reach it to yell for help.

I glanced up, spotting a sizable truck barreling down the interstate, approaching us from the left lane. Was that an eighteen-wheeler? Yes! Having no hands-free technology, a last ditch effort on my part might be my ticket out.

The truck behind me came in for one more hit, then backed off. The tarped truck in front of me kept tapping his breaks so I’d hit mine. I was a nervous wreck, juggling between the two without much wiggle room.

Maybe they’d back off a little more as this new trucker closed in. I had one shot that might come down to perfect timing on my part, requiring a steady hand to pull it off.

As the eighteen-wheeler got closer, I saw the truck on my back bumper finally ease off. I took a deep, calming breath and gripped the wheel tightly, getting ready.

I wasn’t going to be anybody’s accident waiting to happen, and began pacing the eighteen-wheeler’s speed, realizing there was no other option. It was my only hope.

Eighteen-wheelers should expect the unexpected.

Chapter 60

Performing A Bypass

Just as that eighteen-wheeler was about to pass us, I floored the gas and whipped left in front of him and took off. As his horn was honking behind me, I looked over to see the tarped truck speed up on my right. I pushed it, but he kept pace trying to get in front of me again.

The other truck was now passing the eighteen-wheeler and trying to get back in position behind me. In seconds, he forced his way over and slipped into place once more. The eighteen-wheeler was furious and began flashing his lights and hitting his horn at being cut off again.

I glanced over and helplessly watched as the tarped truck eased over in front of me. By this time the eighteen wheeler had enough and slipped into the right lane and started to speed up to get away from all of us. I knew I was dead if they got me alone once again.

This cat-and-mouse game wouldn’t go on much longer. They needed the eighteen-wheeler to disappear. I saw the guy in front of me tap his brakes to slow us down, trying to let the eighteen-wheeler pass all of us on the right.

Suddenly I saw an out, a sign up ahead, signaling an exit coming up fast. It was now or never. I whipped my small truck over to the right lane right in front of the eighteen-wheeler. He slammed his horn and burned rubber, as I shot right across his path and out onto the off ramp.

The other two trucks tried to follow, but the eighteen-wheeler was already blocking them and still honking his horn and flashing his lights. I blew the stop sign at the top of the ramp, skidded across the overpass and onto the northbound ramp of the interstate, and then sped for home.

I smiled, knowing there wasn’t another exit for several miles if I had read that sign correctly seconds before. I was still gripping the wheel tightly and forced myself to loosen my fingers. I eyed my cell on the floor, but refused to stop, pull over and pick it up. I wasn’t taking any chances. I’d wait until I was back at my exit and under bright lights.

Besides, who would I call? All I would get is heat for doing a stupid thing like tailing that truck alone at night. I’d tell everyone later when I got back, and give Clay the partial plate number I’d barely gotten. It might help, and with luck, I was sure we’d get closer to what was going on.

I paused. Was that horseplay by some bored lowlifes? I’ve heard my share of stories about innocent women getting caught up in a cat-and-mouse game in the dark, but after what had happened to me lately, I doubted this was one of those incidences. I was so sure it was that chop shop crime ring.

…Well, almost sure.

Chapter 61

Dodging Some Heat & Dancing With Dan

As I passed through the covered archway the next morning, I still remembered Clay’s surprising reaction when he heard what happened. I figured he would haul off and yell at me for taking such a risk, but instead he grabbed me and held on tight, whispering, “Sam, please, please don’t do something so foolish like that again. If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

That was when the full weight of it hit me. I could have died. But the rest of the crew, although just as emotional about my making it home safe, made up for Clay by giving me hell and making me promise to never do something so stupid again. By that time, I was exhausted from the whole ordeal, begged off dinner, and went straight to bed.

What was going on in the neighborhood?

So the next day, I figured there was one person I had to speak to concerning exactly that point: Dan. I found him kneeling in Sally’s garden among his gardening tools. His back was to me so he didn’t see or hear my approach because he was busy talking on his cell.

“Look, if you can’t handle it, I’ll do it myself. I couldn’t say. It would have been to uncomfortable with me hanging around. You know how it is. No matter what you do, it is never enough. I know, I get it, but that still doesn’t get the job done. No, I’ll handle everything from my end. I know what to do. Okay, catch you later.”

I backed up a few steps, cleared my throat loudly, and continued forward again. He turned, then smiled and stood up, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“Hi, Dan,” I said, smiling. “I see you’re back early. I guess that means your sister is much better.”

“She sure is because she started being her usual pushy self about my being single. I couldn’t catch a break.”

I smiled, balancing that response with what I had heard. “I know how it gets, relatives and friends included.”

“Besides, there is never enough time to catch up around here, being the only one handling everything. I don’t mind though. It keeps me busy.”

I looked all around. “The gardens look great.”

“Thanks, I’m trying to keep up.”

“How long have you worked for Sally and Tom?”

“Not that long.”

I didn’t want to alert or scare him off so I let that vague answer slide for now. “Are you from around here?”

“Close by. I lived down in Tilton in an apartment doing odd carpentry jobs, construction, or whatever came my way. I’m divorced and decided since my ex took it all, I might as well stick to the pared down life I was left with.”

He shuffled his feet in discomfort.

“Hey, I’m not interested in personal stuff.” But I was.

“That’s all right. I figured you’d ask eventually.”

I laughed. “I guess being a writer, I can’t help it. I find I’m curious about everything and everyone.”

“I heard you write mysteries.”

“I didn’t start out that way, but then ended up writing about my own experiences with a little change up in who it was actually about, using my protagonist instead.”

“In other words, you changed some names to protect the innocent.”

I laughed on his take of what I did. He was right. “I guess that’s a good analysis of how I go about grabbing dialogue wherever I hear it.”

“As long as you have the right dialogue and are not misinterpreting what you hear, I guess you’re right.”

My eyes sprang to his. What was he getting at? Was I reading more into his words?

It was time for some answers.

Chapter 62

On The Take

“Can I ask you what your take is on some neighbors?”

“Specifically who? I’m sort of a loner and try to keep to myself. I found it’s safer that way.”

That was a strange response.

“I thought you might know something, anything unusual about Robinson and his place.”

He glanced in the general direction of Robinson’s and finally said, “…I heard he was acting odd at the end. He was a loner, too. Larry, who I replaced, said he went over one time for Sally to ask permission to cut back a couple of Robinson’s trees that had fallen on their stone walls in the woods. Larry had to repair the wall and couldn’t with the trees in the way. If Robinson didn’t want the wood, Larry was going to cut it up for firewood for Sally and Tom.”

“Why did Larry say Robinson was acting strange?”

“When Larry went over that last time, there was a lot of hollering going on in Robinson’s barn and…”

I interrupted, asking, “How many voices did he hear?”

“He heard only one other besides Robinson’s.”

“Did he say if he recognized who it was?”

“Yeah, it was that Jackson fella, who worked for Sarah and also did any odd job on the side for some quick cash.”

“Could he hear what they were saying?”

“He only caught the tail-end as he approached the barn.”

“What was it about?”

“Something like, why would you put them in the barn in the first place if you knew they were worth good money?”

“Why would Jackson talk so informally to Robinson?”

“Larry said he cleared his throat loudly so they could hear his approach. Then Robinson came strolling out of the barn, as happy as could be, carrying a box. That Jackson fella was nowhere in sight maybe hanging back, not wanting to be seen. That was speculation on Larry’s part.”

“What happened then?”

“Larry told Robinson about the wall, but he still seemed distracted, maybe from his conversation back in the barn.”

“How did Robinson act?”

“He kept mumbling things like, ‘Who would believe me now?’ ‘Why should I trust him?’ ‘What if they found out?’ Larry backed off a little, taken by surprise.”

Same as Millicent said. “What an odd response.”

“Larry thought so, too, having absolutely no idea what Robinson was talking about and tried to steer him back to what he was referring to so he could get out of there.”

“What did Robinson do? Did he snap out of it?”

“He stared at Larry, trying to place him, but then it registered. Larry had to explain again why he was there. Robinson said to keep the wood and apologized for being out of it. Said he was having trouble with his memory.”

Sounded like that’s not all he was having trouble with.

Chapter 63

Chance Encounter Of An Unexpected Kind

Everyone was going to Weirs Beach, but I begged off to take another look at Robinson’s place. They all tried to talk me out of it, promising to go with me the next day, but I was tired of their fussing over me since the truck incident. I said I had my charged cell phone on and would be careful. Plus it was daylight. If anything looked suspicious, I’d call them immediately. Reluctantly, they let me go it alone.

But on my way over there, I noticed George sitting in a rocker on his front porch using his binoculars. I didn’t see his car in the drive, which meant Sally was gone, and figured it would be a perfect time to speak to him alone and see what I could find out.

I approached the porch and coughed, announcing my arrival. Hard of hearing, he obviously had no clue, as he was knee-deep in observing his far field. Then he swung the glasses my way. I must’ve looked ten times larger.

“Good God!” he yelled, just before he dropped the binoculars and clutched his chest.

I panicked and rushed to his side, but that only agitated him more as he lurched backward still in shock.

“Do you always go around scaring people half to death, or do you have some kind of sick sense of humor?”

I yelled, “I guess where you’re concerned, both.”

He let go of his chest and actually smiled, then laughed.

“I think I’m beginning to like you, young lady.”

I smiled back, seating myself in another rocker. “Good.”

“What? Why do you want some wood?” he asked.

I leaned forward. “I said good, as in I like you, too.”

He relaxed somewhat and I scooped up his binoculars.

“These must come in pretty handy for a person such as yourself who’s so restricted, so to speak.”

He looked at me carefully, weighing his words. “Oh, I get around. I just have to be careful not to overdo it.”

“I see you drove over to Sally’s place that day. I didn’t realize you could drive yourself around like that.”

“Well, I usually wait until Sarah is picked up by one of her friends before I take off. She worries too much.”

“With good cause, I’m sure,” I added.

“She means well, but sometimes it’s annoying the way she thinks I’m mentally infirmed, as well as physically.”

“Some people get a false sense of who I am, too.”

“Being an author, I guess they would.”

“I bet you’re intuitive, too.”

“I have been known to challenge a mind or two.”

“Then you probably know why I stopped by.”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Want to help me out?” I asked, smiling.

“I might. What is it going to cost me?”

“Nothing, but the truth. I get sort of hung up on that.”

“I think we can work that out. What’s your poison?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, now recoiling myself.

He smiled. “What would you like to drink?”

“Just point the way and I’ll get us both something.”

“I am thinking more in the way of spirits.”

“Alcohol-related, kindred, or both?” I asked, laughing.

Chapter 64

Tilting Toward The Truth & Karma

After sipping wine and nibbling on crackers and cheese, we both had decided that it must be 5 p.m. somewhere, we sat back and waited for the other one to start the banter, or the grilling. Or in this case, bull-honky as Martha liked to phrase that segment of our slow-dance of innuendo and inquisition. Obviously, we were both interested in what the other knew. Time to find out.

Trust me, I was not the babe in the woods I used to be. I knew where my bread was buttered and who I had to butter to get what I needed. Some individuals were harder to get to than others. I hadn’t pegged him yet, but was close. He probably was thinking the same thing about me.

After getting tired of waiting for him to start, I said, “What have you really seen, George?”

He gave a side-glance and nodded. “Direct first volley.”

I grinned. “I thought so.”

“…What I have seen, I don’t like,” he finally said.

“Such as?”

“Certain individuals arriving and leaving when no one thinks I am coherent enough to understand what might be going on around here.”

Now that was some return volley. “Like who?”

“I’d describe them as rough and unsavory individuals.”

“Doing what?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Coming and going at all hours.”

“Do you have any inkling as to why?”

“I didn’t until I found an object in the field by the barn.”

He got up and returned with a three-foot piece of metal.

I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at. Did he?

“Help me out, here. What am I looking at?”

“A belt drive.”

“Now, what would that be doing here in your field?”

“Good question.”

“But what is this one used for?”

“A motorcycle, a Harley Davidson to be more specific.”

“Aha! I see.” I said, getting his message.

“Look, I know she’s a lot younger than me.”

I leaned in. “But that doesn’t make it right, does it?”

“Exactly my point.”

“So what are we going to do about this?” I asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“When is Sarah due back?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Want to come for dinner?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“By the way, how come you’re hearing me perfectly?”

“Oh, that. It’s for show and Sarah’s sake. She’s already counting the inheritance. It’s my delay tactic of sympathy.”

“Is it working?”

“Not by a long shot.”

Chapter 65

Making Nice & Making Friends

The remnants of our delicious dinner lay by the wayside as we all sipped our wine, plus one beer. Our unexpected guest, George, caught everyone off guard. They smiled and nodded when he related what he saw and what he found by his barn; now realizing his agenda was similar to ours.

Martha jumped right in. “So you’re aware of Sarah calling Sam about the missing woods. What a load of bull! She sucked us in good. I wonder why she did that?”

“Maybe to throw us off track to look elsewhere,” I said.

George smiled. “Oh, she’s become quite the polished blueblood since she’s hooked up to yours truly.”

“How did you meet her?” asked Betty.

“She gave me a haircut. I was lost after the first snip.”

“You mean she worked in a salon as a hairdresser?” Hazel asked, surprised.

“Yes, in Tilton. Ah, those days are far behind her now. She considers herself one of the Smiths! Little does she know that I overstated my background to catch her.”

Clay stepped in, keeping the conversation on track. “So, what do you think is going on over at your place, George?”

“Exactly what you now suspect might be going on. Since I heard from Samantha you’re connected, and working undercover, I figured you might want to know.”

“I appreciate the heads up. We’ve been going crazy trying to figure where the chop shops are working from.”

“I think this is one of two barns they’re using.”

“Where is the other located at?” asked Crystal.

“I am not really sure, but I would think nearby.”

“He’s right,” I said. “This way they consolidate loads.”

“How will we find where the other is?” asked Martha.

“I’ve already tried tailing her,” said George. “No go.”

I laughed. “We already know how my tail went down.”

“So,” said Hazel, “Do we sit back and wait?”

“No,” I said. “I think that maybe I might visit someone.”

George got it in a second. “You wouldn’t!”

I smiled. “I am merely using my rules of engagement.”

Clay threw me a look. “And what are those?”

“Act defensive, while you’re watching their back.”

“And that means?” Martha asked.

“I’m going to ask who she thinks is watching my back.”

“Why?”

“I want to see if she squirms when I offer some names.”

Clay said, “Don’t blow it. We don’t want to step in until we’re absolutely sure where the other location is.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

George said, “But then, you won’t learn anything.”

“You’re smarter than I had originally thought, George.”

“Don’t be too sure about that. …Let’s wait and see.”

Chapter 66

Rambling & Ramifications

It was a beautiful morning. I had plenty of time before I was scheduled to see Sarah, so I opted for a long hike.

Yeah, I know, I don’t have the best of luck when hiking.

But instead of veering right at the fork that led toward the pond and Boss’ pasture, I veered left for the deeper part of the woods to go check out the stone wall that divided Robinson’s property from Sally and Tom’s. I wanted to find out if I could see his house from there and also gauge the time it took to walk from Sally’s.

In minutes, I was under a canopied, much darker area of the forest than I’d expected. It was heavily bedded with pine needles, so my footsteps were muted on the tightly-packed base, while the wind rustled the branches above.

I continued on, side-stepping trees, stone outcroppings, massive boulders, evergreens and thickets that occasionally blocked the old path, determined to find my way to the stone walls, which would give me a better idea how close Robinson’s property line was. Could someone cut through easily at night to avoid using the road?

After seeing a deer and a fox dart across the path, I tried ignoring a branch cracking now and then. I still worried though. But figured as long as I kept to the trail, I would eventually end up back at the Sally’s house. Of course I might come from a different angle than where I started out, but I would nevertheless safely end up at the house.

After several more minutes, the forest itself began to close in. When another branch cracked much louder, I turned. My mouth flew open. Where was the path? I spun back to where I was headed, realizing I wasn’t following a path at all. Somehow I must have deviated and forged my own way and not realized it, thinking I was still on the trail.

When I reached into my jacket pocket and yanked out my cell, my stomach did a flip. No signal! I threw it back into my pocket, pivoting in place. Which way was home?

My sense of direction and confidence was completely thrown off because, with the thick tree canopy overhead, there was no way to gage the sun. Plain and simple, I was lost. I felt I had the word idiot stamped on my forehead for coming out there alone.

…Crack! I whipped around. …There it was again!

The hair rose on my neck. I gave a fleeting thought to hiding behind the large trunk of a tree. But where would I stand? I had no idea where those sounds were coming from. I took a calming breath and decided to keep moving. If someone was following me, then the chances were good that they had done so from the house, so the only thing to do was to keep walking forward.

Yes, but now which way was forward?

When push came to shove, it really didn’t matter, did it?

Chapter 67

Lost & Found

I began running, vaulting over fallen trees and branches, trying to keep as silent as possible. Was someone watching me, laughing at my feeble attempt to get away? Were they running parallel and keeping pace with me? My breathing was becoming labored. I had to get out of the woods, but had no clue which way. Was I running in circles?

I didn’t dare stop to think about which direction either, I just ran. In the dim light, I kept checking my cell for a signal, but it was a no go. I was in a cell no-fly zone.

After a few minutes, I found myself staring at the stone row, the property line. I came to a halt, panting, trying to decide what to do. I didn’t want to waste any time plotting some strategy that was sure to prove worthless. Then it hit me as I stared up at a tree with several reachable branches that might be my lifesaver. Being lost, no way could I outrun whoever was following me.

I leaped up onto the stone wall and grabbed the first branch and started climbing the giant evergreen as fast as I could. When I felt comfortable that I was camouflaged enough from who might be out there, I sat, staring down to identify my stalker and waited…and waited…and waited.

Nothing. I was about to climb down thinking I was being a complete fool to let my imagination get away from me when I heard someone approach. I sucked in a breath and stayed perfectly still.

A figure came into view. A male. However, I couldn’t identify who. I was too high up. His stance felt familiar, but doubt lingered because of his bandanna, sunglasses and bulky jacket, jeans and boots. …Was that an ear stud?

The bark tore into my sweaty palms as I gripped the branch to steady myself. Thankfully he seemed to have no clue as to my hiding place. But he appeared annoyed and began pacing, then stopped to listen. …I held my breath…

After a minute, he loped over the stone wall and ran toward Robinson’s. That was my signal to get out of there. I descended, then swung down and fell gratefully to the ground in a soft landing on the pine needles, brushed myself off and began running in the opposite direction.

I wasn’t waiting around for him to return and start looking up. I had to get back to friendly territory. I don’t know how long I ran, scraping branches and stumbling on logs, but eventually, by some miracle, I ended up out on the edge of one of the other fenced-in horse pastures.

As I raced toward the house, I grabbed my phone. Now I had a signal! But why bother calling anyone? It was too late. Whoever had followed me was long gone. Even though I had a plenty of time to freshen up before my visit to Sarah, my mental clock was ticking away. I was literally running out of time. My trip to go home was days away.

Chapter 68

Separating Fact From Fiction

I had arranged to meet with Sarah without her husband, George, around. This way she might feel free to speak her mind. Even though George was cooperative, I wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish by confiding in us.

Maybe he was looking to incriminate his wife, Sarah. What for? A distraction? Or, was he trying to dump her? If so, he had a strange way of doing it. Things were never as simple as they appeared on the surface.

What was Sarah after? Was she stringing her husband along until something better came knocking? Was she really who George claimed she was, a former hairdresser? Was there something more going on here than met the eye?

Were they both telling the truth about each other? Or was I being deliberately distracted, and if so, why? Okay, no need to go there. I’d been there so many times before I felt dizzy, as though I was in a revolving door.

I tapped the doorbell and within a minute she answered. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was tastefully styled. She wore what looked like designer jeans, plain flats and short-sleeved top. Nothing exposed, skin or otherwise, were in sight. It was the perfect conservative outfit.

I also noticed the absence of tattoos or rubies of any kind. She was checking me out at the same time. Now that we were alone, with no one else distracting either one of us, there was time to evaluate the other.

“Samantha, I was glad to hear from you. Do you have any news regarding my missing woods?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. No news on that front.”

A flicker of disappointment briefly flashed by. She stepped back from the door. “Please, come in. I have refreshments for us in the kitchen.”

Having been in their house before, I feigned surprise at the charming interior, which apparently I already knew was restored with a sharp eye for historic detail. “Very nice.”

“Thank you, but I can’t take the credit. My interior decorator handled the whole thing. George and I merely agreed to the price.”

And what a price I bet it was. Did she care? I doubted it, her having married into a great meal ticket. She was still talking, but apparently, I hadn’t caught the first part.

“…George is such a darling when it comes to fine detail. He has spared no expense just to make me happy, but…”

I jumped on it. “But what?”

“Living the good life might soon be a thing of the past.”

“Why do you say that?”

“George said that our money is virtually all gone.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No. He claims bad investments, but I think he might be involved in something shady.”

Chapter 69

Cover Ups & Covering Up

Okay, when did this interview turn on a dime, leaving me trying to scrape together a new angle on getting info? Was she trying to throw me by making that provocative statement? Why confide in me? Another diversion?

I sat back thinking over what George had warned me about. Were they both playing off each other to protect something? If not, what could they hope to accomplish by throwing a distraction into the mix?

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

“I can’t put my finger on anything specific, but he has been acting strange lately.”

“In what way?”

“He thinks I’m not paying attention, but he is doing things that he normally wouldn’t do.”

“Like what?”

“I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, but it all started when I thought he might be having an affair on the side.”

Old George was having an affair?

“How about we start at the beginning and maybe I can make sense out of what you’re trying to tell me,” I said.

“Well, it all began a few months ago when I was going to New York for a few days. A friend of mine took me to the airport so I wouldn’t have to leave my car there. We got about three miles out when I realized I had forgotten something important and needed to go back to get it. When we were about to turn the corner onto my road, I saw George driving my car, turning in the opposite direction.”

“Why did you find that suspicious?”

“He claimed he couldn’t drive because of his eyesight and his bad back. So I’ve been driving us everywhere.”

“Did you ever bring up that one sighting with him?”

“After I thought it over, I figured maybe I was jumping to conclusions about being so suspicious of him and said nothing. Maybe he took the car out for a lark that one time. But it happened several more times after that initial incident. I even tried to follow him in a car I had rented for one trip to the airport, but I lost sight of him at a light.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Then her face reddened. “I hate to admit this, but I found his diary and snuck a peek at it.”

“Anything in it you’d want to share?” I asked eagerly.

“Not one damn thing about another woman. Although I began reading about some kind of ring he spotted one day.”

“What kind of ring?” Did she suspect he knew?

“I never found out. I heard him coming down the hall and put the diary back in its hiding place in his bedroom. After that, he must have hid it in another location.”

His bedroom? “…You sleep in separate rooms?”

Sarah looked down at her lap. “Yes, since his accident.”

Chapter 70

Accidentally On Purpose?

“What accident?” I asked.

“A year ago when he was riding that unpredictable horse, Boss, George broke his leg and bruised his ribs. I wanted to shoot that nasty horse right there on the spot.”

I understood her frustration. “I see.”

“No you don’t! All George did was sweet talk Sally and Tom into taking Boss. That was still too close for me.”

That explained why Sarah was so upset.

“Does George ever go over to see Boss now?”

“No! He promised he was finished with Boss and had nothing more to do with him. But now, he ignores my horses, too. I don’t know what has come over him. Why would he be behaving so strangely?”

“Do you mind if I ask about your separate bedrooms?”

“Not at all. He claims he is in too much pain to sleep in the same bed and moved into the guest bedroom.”

I looked over at her and thought that very strange. She was a stunner. Why would he give her the brush-off and move to a separate room? What was going on that he didn’t want her to see? Was he coming and going at odd hours?

There was no end to the constant possibilities going on inside my head. I needed more information to go on. Was Sarah telling the truth? I’ve walked down that iffy truth road so often I’d become a chronic doubter.

I switched topics. “Have you noticed all the traffic going up and down the road lately?”

“Nothing that would make me suspicious. Why? Is there something going on that I should know about?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to push further on that, yet. I was still trying to figure out where she fit in with George’s accusations. In a way, I felt she was upset and telling the truth, but then I had the feeling she might be talking herself out of a verbal trap in which I might catch her. Was she the one in the dark as to what was really going on about the parts, or was George the innocent as he claimed to be?

Speaking of partners, if they were in this together, then they were throwing red herrings, so to speak, to keep me chasing my tail trying to figure what was going down when all the while it was happening right in front of me.

“I need you to be straight about something else, Sarah.”

“Go ahead. I want to help you all I can.”

“What were you doing at the rally the other night?”

“Which night?”

That threw me. “…That night of that barbecue tent incident when all the fights started.”

She chuckled. “I thought you saw me.”

“I did, including your three buddies. Why the outfit?”

“I was looking for George and needed to blend in.”

Chapter 71

The Change Up

Now, there were a lot of ways I could approach this, but the one that first came to mind was the best, being direct.

“Did you find him?”

She hesitated, then smiled. “You know I didn’t.”

I chuckled. “You saw me follow you in the dark?”

“You and your friend, Crystal, weren’t exactly subtle.”

“The art of surveillance is one of my weaknesses.”

“But I applaud your bravery in following the unknown.”

“The unknown fascinates me. …So, who was he?”

“You’re not being subtle now, are you?”

“It’s an adjective with the least rewards at the moment.”

“You’re full of surprises, Samantha.”

“So are you. Now, just tell me who he was.”

“…He’s my brother from…”

I finished for her. “…Boston?”

“Correct.”

“He’s not exactly friendly.”

Sarah frowned. “No, that’s one of his negatives.”

“And his positives?”

“He’s trying to protect me from someone who is trying to extort money from me and doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Now, why would someone be doing that?”

“They have certain information about me that I don’t necessarily want …uh…George to know about.”

“Would this info upset him in anyway?”

“Guaranteed to.”

“Why would you need your brother to protect you?”

“I don’t want to pay any more money because, now that my money-well is running dry, I can’t fudge funds anymore to pay them off.”

“So what’s the big deal if George finds out? What would you lose then?”

“I might lose George.”

“I thought you were in it strictly for the money.”

“No. I actually love the old fool, aggravation and all.”

“So what don’t you want George to know?”

“I’m not prepared to tell you yet. I need to try this on my own.”

I was confused. “Do what on your own?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure who’s blackmailing me.”

This was crazy. “Why would you be paying money to an individual when you have no idea who they are? How do you know they are telling the truth? How do you know they actually have any proof?”

She gave me a sharp look. “Of course they have proof! Nothing personal, but do I look like I have blonde hair?”

I bit back a retort. “None taken. What’s the proof?”

“A photo of me and someone else who will for the moment remain anonymous.”

Who was in that picture? Who was blackmailing her?

Chapter 72

The Once Over, Once Again

After talking to George, and then Sarah, I still wasn’t satisfied with where they stood in my book as far as truthful information was concerned. So I took another route and went back to Robinson’s. But this time I’d take a look at his barn. So far all I’d checked out was his house.

As I stared up at the barn, I knew Robinson’s family had already gone through it looking for anything valuable, but I still wanted to see it with my own two eyes plus five other sets of eyes. My crew insisted on joining in on the search.

Clay and Crystal pulled on the heavy doors and they creaked open. I stepped forward, the first to enter the two-story barn. Spotting a trap door that led to a lower level, I warned the ladies to watch their step on the old floorboards.

We were searching for the unusual, but only found rusty tractor chains and harnesses in the stalls, everything you’d expect to find in a barn that sat undisturbed for many years, including small bales of hay stacked in the upper loft.

“Well, I don’t see any dead bodies yet,” said Martha.

Betty turned on her. “What a dreadful thing to say!”

Hazel merely shrugged. “Lucky for her.”

“What do you mean?” Martha asked, annoyed.

“You would be the first one out the door if we did.”

“Says who?”

Hazel looked up. “Why, I do believe I just saw a bat!”

Martha ducked, but then realized she’d been had.

“Just watch out for the black widow spiders,” she said.

Hazel grabbed onto Crystal in a panic. “Oh, my!”

Crystal removed Hazel’s fingers. “Hey, easy on the vice grip. You should’ve worn boots if you’re that jumpy.”

Clay nudged me. “How can we accomplish anything if they are always bickering, taunting each other like this?”

“Look, you know how they get when they’re frustrated. It’s almost time to go home and we don’t have any...”

As I spoke to Clay, something in my upper peripheral vision caught my eye. Two bales had moved in the loft. Everyone followed my gaze as the bales shifted once again.

Pointing, I whispered, “Who do you think is up there and listening to us? That ladder, quick!”

In seconds, Clay retrieved it and motioned for the rest of us to get back into one of the stall areas where we would be better protected. Not wanting to stand there wasting any time arguing over who should climb the ladder, I ushered everyone out of the way.

We stood there watching and speculating in low whispers what it might possibly be as Clay slowly climbed up. For once I was glad Clay took the lead on this with his extra hundred pounds of solid muscle.

He turned back signaling for us to be quiet, while he stealthily stepped off the last rung and disappeared from our view...

Chapter 73

Goodness Snakes Alive!

Within seconds, chaos broke loose in the upper hayloft with thumping and yelling, as several incoherent words drifted down our way. Curious, we ventured closer to the ladder to catch what was being said.

“What the hell?” yelled Clay from up above.

Betty grabbed my arm. “Shouldn’t we be helping him?”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t sound good,” said Hazel.

As hay went airborne, we somehow managed to dodge the larger clumps that began dropping everywhere.

Martha edged closer to me. “Maybe one of us should climb up to find out if he needs help.”

Crystal came over to me, but I held up my hand.

“No, Crystal, I’ll go up.”

“Be my guest. I was just offering to hold the ladder.”

“…Oh.”

Since no one else stepped forward and volunteered to take up the cause, I reluctantly took a deep breath, turned and faced the ladder. I no sooner had my foot on the first rung when something came flying and landed between us.

“Snake!” Hazel yelled, trying to release my grip and shove me aside to climb up the ladder to get away from it.

We watched in horror as it slithered between Martha’s legs. Shocked she was frozen to the spot. It disappeared into the tall grasses beyond the barn doors. Noise and hollering started up again in the hayloft and we reluctantly tore our eyes from where the snake was last seen and turned our attention back in Clay’s direction.

Why wasn’t Clay telling us what was going on up there?

I started up again, but another clump fell to the floor.

“God almighty, another snake!” Martha yelled, jumping.

This time Crystal started shoving me aside, but I stood my ground. If anyone was going up first, I was. I grabbed on and was instantly shoved upward by the others, who were just as anxious to get off the ground, when it suddenly dawned on me what a dumb move I was making.

“Wait!” I yelled to the others. “Forget it! Look out!”

Everyone stepped aside, giving me room to leap to the floorboards. Betty was hopping up and down, itching to go somewhere, but wasn’t sure what was safe at that point.

“Why are we going up,” I asked, “when that is exactly where the snakes are falling from?”

“Good point,” said Martha, glancing back to where the second snake had disappeared.

Suddenly the ladder lost its appeal as an escape route, but those two snakes were still lurking somewhere outside. We stared at each other trying to decide on rescuing Clay or getting the hell out of there. No one raised their hand.

“Clay’s used to dealing with undesirables,” said Crystal.

Martha agreed. “If anything, he’s street-savvy.”

Chapter 74

Giving Chase

I was about to tell them they were better off in the house when loud shuffling sounds came from above. We stepped back, giving a wide berth to whatever might fall next.

But instead of seeing another snake flying down, it was Clay, yelling as he descended, “Move! There’s more!”

We didn’t need to be told twice. By the time he hit the floor, we were already at the barn doors, disregarding the threat that slithered in the deeper grasses beyond.

For a split second, the group froze, trying to decide which way to go. I held up my hand for all to see, and in it was the key to Robinson’s house. Without a word said, the group tore a path to it, shoving and pushing to get in first.

“I’m moving as fast as I can!” I hollered, unlocking it.

When we were all safely inside the small kitchen, I slammed the door shut and turned to Clay.

“What happened up there?”

“Well, I can tell you I never expected snakes.”

“From the sound of it, more than two?” Martha asked.

“There was a whole nest of them.”

“But why the ruckus?” she asked. “What took so long?”

“I found myself surrounded when I made the mistake of shoving one of the bales off to the side. I’ve got news for you. They don’t take too kindly to someone disturbing their nest, especially when there are babies involved.”

No one spoke for a second as the visuals played out.

“You could have been bitten!” I said, thinking the worst.

“I’m lucky I wasn’t.”

“How did they get airborne?” Crystal asked.

“From a board. Did you know they climb them, too?”

Since we were all picturing it, there was another pause.

“…That explains the commotion,” Betty finally added.

“You sure flew down that ladder,” said Martha.

“Like a real pro,” laughed Hazel.

“Any other bright ideas?” Clay asked, turning to me.

“I think we can write the barn off for now, but still...”

“…But still what?” he asked, warily.

Martha got it. “…We haven’t checked one area yet.”

The others stared at her.

“…Now, where’s that?” Crystal asked skeptically.

She gave a half smile. “…The basement?”

No one wisecracked. There was dead silence…

“…You did say the basement, correct?” Betty asked.

“Yes.”

Barely audible, Hazel whispered, “…With a dirt floor?”

“I guess it’s old enough to have one,” I said.

“Hey, no worries,” Clay offered smugly. “I’m here.”

“Ha, the big snake killer,” said Martha. “We’re so safe!”

They weren’t exactly jumping on board and embracing Martha’s idea, so I chided, “Hey, what could possibly be down in the cellar? Some cobwebs and spiders?”

Chapter 75

Step By Step

After making our way down the old, rotted, wooden steps and ducking under a low beam, we stood there staring around the dusky-smelling cellar via Martha’s trusty, keychain light that was proving its worth, like once before. Sagging, moldy shelves were loaded with canning jars.

“Looks like food was stored down here,” I said.

Martha chuckled. “…And maybe something more.”

“That wasn’t necessary. It’s creepy enough,” said Hazel.

“Lighten up,” said Martha. “It’s just an old dark cellar.”

“…We forgot a shovel,” teased Crystal from the rear.

Betty clutched my arm. “…Are we looking for bodies?”

I felt warm breath on my neck and jumped. “…Clay?”

“Who did you think it was?”

“It wasn’t me,” laughed Crystal, who was trailing the group. “I feel just fine way back here following all of you.”

Martha turned back. “Ever hear of a rear attack?”

Crystal shoved her way through. “Hey, move over.”

From behind us in the shadows, there was a creak.

“Don’t tell me one of you is leaving!” mocked Martha.

Clay whispered. “We’re all standing here, Martha.”

We heard it again.

“Uh, oh!” I whispered, looking around.

Martha flashed her light on the steps as the door clicked.

Clay raced up the stairs. “We’re locked in!”

“Who would do that?” asked a terrified Betty.

“Someone who doesn’t want company,” said Crystal.

“You don’t suppose they’d start a fire, do you?” I asked.

“…With us still down here?” Hazel asked nervously.

Clay started to ram the door with his shoulder, but after numerous attempts, gave up. “Solid as a rock.”

Martha grabbed my shoulder. “Is that smoke I smell?”

There was a sudden inhaling of breaths.

“No!” Hazel snapped. “Now, stop scaring us to death.”

“Hey, I’m just asking. All this dampness is clogging my sinuses and affecting my finer skills of detection.”

Betty nudged her. “How are your mental ones? Got any bright ideas how to get us out of this?”

“Hey, let’s all check our cells,” I suggested. A few seconds passed as motions were made to check for a signal.

“Forget it. There’s no signal down here,” said Clay.

“Ditto for me, too,” added Crystal.

Everyone shoved their phones back into their pockets and began looking for a way out. No one felt like rubbing up against the unknown out of Martha’s beam of light and didn’t venture too far. The walls didn’t look that promising as far as touching, either with their spidery cobwebs. So we shuffled like a small pack under the cover of Martha’s mini light, going from one area to the next looking for an escape.

Suddenly, dragging sounds were heard from above us.

“Whoever it is, they’re searching the house,” I said.

Chapter 76

Searching For & Getting The Unexpected

“I don’t see windows, and we need an out,” said Crystal

I had an idea. “Hey, remember that raccoon? There must be something here to pry those boards that were refastened. I’m not about to let someone snuff us out with fire, smoke, or lack of air when they’re finished searching the house.”

Approaching a wardrobe laced in stringy cobwebs, we all stepped back as Martha flung it open. “Nothing.”

“Let’s keep going,” said Crystal, nudging the group.

“Wait!” Martha said “Remember Robinson’s room?”

“Let’s not waste time on that old thing,” said Clay.

Considering the situation, I knew I had to confess to him about finding those hidden, before and after photos of the missing woods that I’d discovered in Robinson’s wall safe.

I turned to Clay. “I know I should have confided…”

When I finished, Clay said sarcastically, “…I like this communication thing we’ve got going here. Kind of makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“Don’t be a smart aleck,” said Martha.

“Yes, Clay,” added Betty. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Mind your manners, young man,” scolded Hazel.

“Hey, last time I looked, I was your boss, you two.”

Hazel shot back. “We just let you think that Clay.”

“Yes,” said Betty. “We know who really runs the shop.”

He taunted back, “Oh, really? Well please don’t let that well-guarded secret out. It’d ruin my sterling reputation.”

“Ha!” I said.

He whirled on me. “What?”

“Let’s not talk reputations,” I said, laughing. “Between the two of us, we both know you’d lose on that score!”

Crystal stepped forward. “You know, all this chit chat has got me so choked up I don’t know if I can get this out, but I’ll try. Let’s stay focused here, people! Has anyone bothered to notice the noise upstairs had dropped off?”

“So it has,” observed Martha, looking up.

“And what do you propose we do now?” Clay asked me.

“Slide the wardrobe like I did Robinson’s bookcase.”

Crystal moved to the other side. “Let me help, Clay.”

Between the two of them, they gradually edged it out. Martha hit the wall with her keychain light. There was nothing there but a stone wall.

I tried moving a few stacked stones. Everyone joined in. It was a lost cause. Frustrated, I turned away then stopped.

“Hey, look at the back of the wardrobe! What’s that?”

Everyone turned as Martha swung her light around.

I reached out. “Plastic bags of money are taped onto it!”

“This must be what everyone is looking for!” said Clay.

“And I thought they were looking for photos,” I added.

Martha leaned closer. “Could it be Robinson’s money?”

“That’s the million dollar question,” said Crystal.

“Or maybe it’s someone else’s?” Betty asked.

“If it’s Robinson’s,” I said, “then that means he was the blackmailer. If it isn’t, then maybe he stole it from whoever is the blackmailer.”

“We sure can’t ask him now, can we?” Martha said.

Chapter 77

Always Keep Them Guessing

We finally found a few metal bars we thought might pry open those formerly loose, old boards the rabid raccoon had used to gain entry into the house days before. Clay, Crystal and I immediately got to work. Huddled near the light, the ladies tackled the stacks of money to estimate their worth.

A decent job was done of nailing and securing those boards back in place. Removing them from the inside was proving to be a larger job than we had anticipated. Crystal began complaining she was getting claustrophobic in the dark cellar and started going at the task with such gusto, the three of us broke through in no time.

One by one, we climbed up on some old storage crates and scrambled out into the tall grasses, disregarding the former snake threat. Martha and the ladies had the money secured in their bulging large-pocketed cargo pants. Their estimated tally of the bills was $100,000.00.

Wow!

After taking a few steps, I stopped. “Let’s go back in.”

“Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” yelled Martha, standing steadfast with her arms crossed, blocking me.

“No!”

She was not budging. “We just got out! Are you crazy?”

“No!”

Betty rested her hand on my arm. “Maybe, dear, you are a little stressed out because of all this. Besides, don’t you think we should be going to the police with this money?”

Everyone turned to Betty and said, “No!”

“I don’t know about this, Samantha,” said Betty.

“You don’t understand,” I replied. “We need to search again. There might be another secret area where Robinson stashed something. He’s been full of surprises. With a failing mind, he took simple precautions, but not what you’d call standard ones. Maybe we’ll find something.”

Clay understood and agreed. “You’re right. Whoever locked us down there realized that and was also thinking out of the box, but hadn’t gotten to the cellar yet.”

“Exactly!”

“Hey, we’re going back the day after tomorrow,” said Crystal. “What have we got to lose? We can make another search of all the rooms, but this time we have to look for anything that strikes us as a possible hiding place.”

“Well, I guess we could give it another shot,” said Martha, “but I’m kind of leery hanging around with all this money on us. Suppose whoever was upstairs returns?”

“All the more reason for us to get in there and tear the place apart quickly before they consider coming back, thinking we’re still stuck down in the cellar.”

“Samantha, who do you think it was?” Betty asked.

I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” Was it Sarah or Jackson?

“You’re close,” laughed Martha, “but not committing.”

Chapter 78

Regrouping

But another thorough search of Robinson’s house, via the door this time, produced zip. We returned to Sally’s farmhouse and I tucked the money under my mattress.

I knew it was the worst possible place to store all that cash. But I was taking my cue from Robinson, hiding something in an obvious place because no one would think of looking there, imagining I’d be much shrewder.

Then I flipped open my laptop to try and make sense of who knew what because some people were outright lying.

Yeah, I know. Surprise. Surprise. I was lied to.

Now, who had the most to gain by Robinson being dead? I’d say that some did and some didn’t.

Jackson got a farmhouse, land, and grazing rights.

Sally got her property protected on one side from future development, plus an enhanced property value. Other than that, she was completely out of the picture as far as I was concerned.

Now, George, for some reason, wanted Boss nearby. Was that merely to annoy his wife, Sarah? He voiced doubts about her, but what did he expect me to do?

I couldn’t figure Sarah out, either. Was she telling me the truth about that horse incident? She wanted whoever had cut her trees down in her woods caught and admitted to being blackmailed. She also had doubts about her husband. I had the feeling that those last two were merely red flags being waved in front of me.

Was I getting too close?

It seemed that Jacob was nothing more than a local artist who happened to live across from Sally.

Millicent and Major appeared to be nothing more than a concerned elderly couple who, other than maintaining their property value, didn’t spike my interest.

I didn’t see Dan in the picture, either. He was just a groundskeeper, a loner and a grapevine listener, who knew everyone else’s business and didn’t mind spreading it.

Did Robinson run a black market business selling phony World War II memorabilia? Could he have been the one extorting money from Sarah? Was he involved with both?

Would Sarah pay $100,000.00 for Robinson’s silence? Didn’t seem possible, even with her skimming money from George without him noticing. The amount was too large.

Where did Robinson get all that money?

Who else could’ve hidden that money there?

Did Jackson know something and use that as leverage to extort money from Robinson? Again what for and why? How could Jackson have possibly extorted money from Robinson? College professors didn’t make that kind of money. How did Jackson get that house and grazing rights? Was that his payoff for those pictures instead of money? Were there more? If so, where were they?

What about all that cash? Would clear-cutting bring in that kind of money?

Possibly.

What about the motorcycle chop shop?

Another possibility.

Was this one of many payments made?

Probably.

Who hid that money in Robinson’s cellar?

Chapter 79

Suggestive Angles & Revelations

Wanting a safe route to go and think, and knowing I had a strong cell signal, I headed toward Boss’ coral. Either I was being foolish or looking for trouble, most likely, a little of both. The sky was an azure blue, laced with clouds skimming by in a subtle breeze, perfect for a thinking walk.

My confidence grew with every step, and I soon found myself looking forward to seeing that high-spirited stallion again, as long as a fence stood firmly between us. The reason for Boss’ close proximity to Sarah and George still puzzled me. Why did George go out of his way to keep Boss so close? Was it for easy access to something more than the horse?

As I rounded the bend of the pond, I heard voices up ahead near Boss’ corral. I had a choice, either create some noise, which would announce my arrival, or sneak up and listen to what was being said.

You know this was a no-brainer.

Luckily for me, I found a hidden area in the shadows of some dense evergreens and could finally hear the two clearly. The big eye-opener was the twosome standing there. They were a pair I never would have pegged as likely to be deep in conversation, and by the sound of it, weren’t exactly friendly about it, either.

“Why are you trying to get me involved?” Dan asked. “Just because you feel you have to, doesn’t mean I see it your way or agree with whatever you’re doing.”

“Look,” said Jackson. “I’m only suggesting this because it could be worth it for you to look the other way.”

“And I keep repeating, I’m not interested in any of it.”

“Come on. I just need this one favor.”

“Look, I’m already winging it talking to you. If they found out, I’d get heat and who knows what else?”

Who were they talking about?

“Look, Dan, I’m walking on eggs here.”

Were they talking about Sarah and George?

“I told you,” said Dan, “you’re treading a lethal road.”

Okay, now we’re talking a little violence here.

“Thankfully she’s is not onto me yet,” said Jackson.

“Well, keep her away from me and off my back.”

“My job,” said Jackson, “is to not raise suspicions.”

“And I want to keep my job.”

My job? Find out who and what they’re talking about.

Chapter 80

Planting More Than Doubt

I found Dan in the garden an hour or so later, planting some flowers. Distracted, he didn’t hear my approach and jolted somewhat when I spoke.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, but I saw you out here and thought I’d ask you some questions to clear things up.”

“Sure. No problem,” he said, brushing himself off. “Why don’t we sit on that boulder over there in the shade.”

As we walked over, I slid in smoothly, “I didn’t know you were that friendly with Jackson.”

He stopped briefly, stared at me, then finally nodded. After we were both seated side by side, he said, “I knew you were much smarter than what I had heard.”

I chuckled. “It all depends on who you heard it from.”

“And funny, too,” he said, giving me a side-glance.

“Again, you have to consider the source.”

“Why is that?” he asked.

“I have a mixed reputation, so to speak.”

This time he chuckled. “Me, too.”

“Care to discuss it?”

“It’s not that interesting, but since you’re so familiar with some facts, admitting some truth shouldn’t hurt.”

“That depends,” I said, staring right at him.

“On what?” he shot back sharply then smiled. “Why?”

“My, you are as inquisitive as I am.”

“When it concerns my reputation, I am.”

I shrugged. “I understand. I’ve had days like that, too.”

“Then you know there’s only so much I’ll tell you.”

“Why is that?”

“Because some of it is none of your business.”

This time I jerked back unexpectedly. “Like what?”

“Why don’t we stop this verbal dance?”

I gave him a level gaze. “Sounds fine with me.”

“What exactly do you want to know?” he asked.

“Since we’re no longer dancing partners, how about you tell me what’s up with you and Jackson and that favor?”

He sat very still for a minute, obviously thinking that controversial question over. How much would he tell me?

He leaned back. “…I thought that was a deer.”

“No, it was little old me.”

“Well, I guess you caught enough to stir your interest.”

“And enough to get someone in trouble if I felt like it.”

“Are you threatening me, Samantha?”

“Not exactly, but some helpful information might help.”

“Like what?”

“The answer to my former question.”

“Oh, yeah… the favor,” he said, letting it hang out there.

“I thought we weren’t dancing, here. What gives?”

He looked away. “I don’t think you want blood spilled.”

Blood spilled? “…Whose blood?”

He turned back and smiled. “Why, yours, of course!”

Chapter 81

Hold On!

“Hey, I like keeping mine on the inside,” I said warily.

“I thought so, too, but I wanted to put that out there in case you decided to confront the wrong individuals. There are some people around here who don’t take too kindly to someone interfering or cutting into their profit margin.”

“What do you mean, profit margin?”

He looked at me and smiled. “Don’t give me that dumb blonde routine. I’m not buying it. You have a pretty good idea what is going on around here. You’re just not sure exactly who and how many are involved, am I right?”

Now it was my turn to lean back against the tree we were sitting under. “Good gotcha question. Okay, I admit, I might have a rough idea who might be involved.” Sarah!

“So what makes you think I might have some answers?”

“Oh, just a small case of blackmail for starters.”

He stiffened. “How did you put that together?”

“I wasn’t sure until now when you reacted like that.”

He sat there, and then laughed out loud. “That’s rich.”

I grinned. “I thought so.”

“There’s just one minor flaw with your thinking.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I asked, smugly.

“I’m not extorting money.”

I sat up straight. “It’s not you?”

He shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

I slumped back disheartened. “Then who is it?”

“That’s what we’ve been watching.”

I turned in his direction. “We?”

“Me and someone, who shall remain anonymous.”

“…No, wait a minute! I know who the blackmailer is!”

“You figured that out, too? Impressive! Do tell.”

“Please! At least give me credit for having half a brain.”

“Well?”

“Jackson was extorting money. And he’s your brother.”

He laughed. “You’re good, but not that good.”

“And why not?” I asked, slightly affronted.

“He’s not my brother.”

“Then who is he?”

He hesitated, then said, “…He’s related to Sarah.”

For once, mouthy me was at a total loss for words.

“Surprised?” he asked, smiling at my reaction.

“Yeah, I’ll say!”

“Good, now maybe we can help each other, here.”

“What makes you think I would help you?” I asked.

“Because without my help, you won’t catch them.”

“Catch who?” I asked, smelling a familiar rat.

“The ones responsible for killing Robinson.”

I sat stone still. “…Robinson was killed?”

“Smothered, but the authorities let it ride differently.”

Damn! “Wait a minute! You’re FBI, aren’t you?”

All he did was smile.

Chapter 82

Walking Away, But Not Walking Away

I walked away from Dan, who still refused to admit to anything. If this was true, it changed so much. I stared at the farmhouse. Did Clay know about this? Probably. He had tentacles reaching to the most unexpected places, both good and bad. But that was okay because after all this time, I now understood what he dealt with day in and day out.

I had my share of shockers since we’ve met and one thing continually stuck with me. Clay always had my best interests at heart. Well, maybe not always in the very beginning when we first went at each other, but we’ve sort of come to an understanding, a mild truce so to speak.

Inside the house, Clay was standing at the kitchen window from where he had obviously seen me speaking to Dan. I sidled up real close from behind and whispered, in case there were other ears around.

Trust me, there were always other ears around.

“You knew about all this beforehand, didn’t you?”

I was slightly put out at being left in the dark.

He leaned into me, giving me one of his distractingly killer kisses, and then he kissed my forehead.

“Yes, but I knew with your help we’d catch a break.”

“I’m not there yet, but I will be. You’re so sneaky.”

He kissed me again then laughed. “You, too.”

This time I joined in, chuckling. “What should I do?”

“Play it out like you always do.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

“The notable story-purveyor is asking me? I think not.”

“Okay, now I get it. You’re going to let me handle the intricacies with you as tight back-up.”

“That’s what I do best, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know, I think you’re right. It’s too many hands in the pot sort of thing. I’ll need to finesse a few things.”

“Don’t you always?” he said, chuckling.

“Yes, but I’m still not sure of all the players.”

He shrugged. “Neither are we.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you’re helping the FBI, right?”

He grinned. Was his silence meant to keep me safe?

I smiled. “This was planned way back in France, right?”

“You are so sexy when you have me pegged.”

I leaned into him, brushing my lips on his. “I know.”

“And you aren’t going to let me forget it, are you?”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“Oh, brother! I can see I’m going to be paying for this for a long time to come.”

I rubbed up against him. “Gosh, you’re so perceptive.”

He gave a lazy smile. “I know.”

“I find work mixed with play so sexy.”

“I know.”

“So, what do you say we get this show on the road.”

He grinned again. “My words exactly.”

Chapter 83

There Are Plans, And Then There Are Plans

I had no idea how this whole thing would play out, but after talking to the female portion of this team, I felt pretty confident I had a good strategy in place. Of course, some of the best-laid plans sometimes don’t go as intended.

…Okay, in my case, more than sometimes.

Just as I was about to walk out the door, the doorbell rang. I stopped, trying to think of who it could possibly be. I had spoken to my crew earlier and they were scattered, waiting to hear from me. Dan was supposedly tending the horses. Clay had taken off and headed for who knows where, promising to be back by nightfall.

Another vanishing.

I had my hand on the doorknob and paused. It was still daylight, so as far as I was concerned, I was pretty safe. I went and peeked behind the curtain. Standing there was Jacob, the artist from across the way. Now, what did he want? This wasn’t exactly working into my playbook. I never liked snags and this sure as hell felt like one.

I wanted this thing over. We were all leaving the next day. Sally and Tom were due anytime. If everything went as I planned, everyone was going to be surprised by my sleuthing. My investigative skills and posse would then be history and we’d all be happily on our way home.

I was sure Sally would be shocked and maybe upset, about being used for a base of operations, but she was the one who had wanted me here in the first place. Of course no doubt with good reason, what I thought was going on and what was actually going on was more complicated than I had previously thought.

Could Sally and Tom have been in on this thing from the beginning? Did they give Dan permission to move in and set up here for the purpose of an investigation? Were all of them aware how extensive this whole thing might be?

I had to slow down. I was starting to run in overdrive. I couldn’t let my crazy writer’s imagination get ahead of the facts, which at the moment were not exactly well-defined, but I was working on making them so.

…Okay, attempting.

My immediate problem was how to get rid of Jacob. I faked a smile and swung the door open. A flash of metal caught my eye. I looked down. Damn. A gun was pointed in my direction. That was definitely not a good sign.

Nailing my smile in place, I said, “Well, what took you so long? I didn’t expect you to show up today, Jacob, but I figured there was always that slight chance you might.”

Can I be honest here? I was completely shocked.

Chapter 84

What Do I Do Now?

There was a flicker of doubt, and then he said, “Yeah? Then you’re much smarter than I originally thought.”

“I have been known to turn a few heads.”

He gave my body the once-over. It was unsettling.

“I hadn’t intended it that way. I meant, mentally.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I’d give you credit for that, too.”

This guy was nothing like the affable painter I had encountered a few days earlier. He was bordering on loathsome. My mind began back-stepping, remembering a previous conversation Martha, Betty and Hazel had with the substitute librarian, who placed that lumber truck driver at Jacob’s house.

I took a shot. “I guess you knew more than you let on about the forest stripping around here.”

He merely blinked, motioning with his gun for me to back up into the house, then closed the door and locked it.

That was not a good sign. I glanced out the kitchen bay window, noticing the sun was setting behind the farmhouse over the forest. Evening and dread were seeping in. I didn’t have a plan B because I thought plan A, getting Sarah, was the one.

Note to self: remember to expect the unexpected.

I slid my eyes over and glanced out that window again, looking for Dan. He was nowhere to be seen. He must be done with Amanda and Luke and was over by Boss’ coral.

I was weak-kneed, but certainly not going to let Jacob know that. Never show doubt or weakness. At least that much I’ve learned over the last few incidents I was lucky enough to walk away from.

“Sit down,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m expecting someone shortly, then we can be done with this.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. It had a kind of final ring to it, you know? And as far as that word, final, I wanted no part of it. I was totally into words like continuing, constant, lifesaving… You get the idea? I was not going with this negative rant of his. I needed to get out of there, pronto!

After several minutes of finger tapping, I asked to use the bathroom, adding a heartfelt plea, “It’s urgent.”

He looked at his watch and motioned for me to go.

I headed for the stairs and the guest bedroom where I was staying with Clay. He stopped me on the first step, pointing. “The powder room is right next to the kitchen.”

I hunched my shoulders and tried to look embarrassed. “It’s that time of month and my stuff is upstairs, sorry.”

He paused, uncomfortable with the subject matter. “…Okay, but I’ll stand outside the door waiting for you.”

He followed me up. I entered the bathroom that attached to our bedroom and locked it quietly. …And now my exit!

Chapter 85

The Not So Great Escape

I made the necessary noises, banging, scraping, opening and closing the medicine cabinet. Then flushed the toilet and ran the faucet at a trickle, enough to camouflage me cranking open the window and lifting off the screen in the attached guest bedroom.

Below was the roof of the pergola that covered the back patio in front of the bay window in the kitchen. Since Jacob was upstairs outside my bath, he wouldn’t see me climb down and land in front of the bay window in the kitchen.

When I dropped to the slate patio, I heard a shout from up above. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

It was Jacob hanging out of my bedroom window.

I guess that colonial lock wasn’t as good as I thought.

I took off, running for the covered arch that connected the house to the barn, racing toward the pond and Boss’ corral. Dan had to be there and hopefully I would be safe. I heard more yelling and glanced back to see Jacob snagged in the pergola. Perfect. I had a jump-start.

I ran like there was a fire under me, panting and shoving branches out of the way as I flew down the path to the right. It was now getting shadowy and dusky out. I had to get there before it was completely dark. Surely Dan would be carrying a gun and I’d have protection.

I was wrong. He wasn’t even there. Boss was nibbling on some grass. I stopped at the fence totally out of breath, panicked at what to do. Then I heard pounding footsteps in the distance. It had to be Jacob. Now what? I gave Boss the once over and became sick to the pit of my stomach.

There was no way I would even try to ride him.

Just then I heard a whinny coming from my left and I turned. Amanda, that good-natured Morgan I rode, trotted over out of the shadows, happy to see me. The minute Amanda hit the rail I reached out and she gently nudged me. I didn’t have time to think what I was about to do. I climbed up onto the rail fencing, grabbed her mane, leapt on, and without thinking, gave a kick to her flank.

I was hoping she had more sense on getting me out of this dangerous situation than I did. She immediately took off in the opposite direction across the corral. I briefly turned back and saw to my amazement Jacob race through the corral gate behind us and leap onto Boss. Uh, oh!

Two bad-asses riding as one!

I turned forward again. We were approaching the end of the long corral. No gate! My flash recall came up with the spill into Jackson’s pond. Panic stricken, I yelled, “Hey, Amanda, remember? We don’t do the jump thing! Wait!” To my disbelief, she arched her back, took a leap and sailed smoothly over the top rail with ease, just like in the movies, while I desperately strained to hold on, laughing out loud.

My editor was not going to believe one word of this.

Chapter 86

What Great Escape?

When we approached the main path that led back to Sally and Tom’s farmhouse, Amanda, for some reason, headed in the direction of the darkest section of the forest. Why countermand her and go back when whoever was meeting Jacob might be there? Maybe Amanda knew of a shortcut to Major’s. At least he had a gun.

To my dismay, she stayed on the exact course I had previously taken the other day. It was all I could handle, dodging and ducking the branches as she weaved around evergreens and leaped over downed logs on her way into the densely-canopied area.

A quick prayer passed my lips as I clung to her wide girth and mane. Was she traveling on pure instinct at this point? I barely made out the wall looming up ahead and was sick. No! The property-line stone row! Twice in one day? I still felt those bruises from my spill in the pond.

“Stop!” I pleaded. “Now you’re pressing our luck.”

But Amanda had her own agenda. I braced myself as she picked up speed and cleanly flew right over it.

After another minute, Amanda slowed down to a trot. I briefly turned back to have a look. Thank goodness the moon was out. No one was there as far as I could see. Nor did I hear anyone. Jacob probably thought we kept on following the stone wall. With luck, he was now doing the same. I kept checking for a cell signal, but there was none.

I turned back to stare straight ahead, patted Amanda’s neck as she kept moving. “What do you think, Amanda? Think those two are long gone?” I turned once more to have another look. “Sure looks like it.” Having no idea as to where or which direction we were traveling, I let Amanda take the lead. As we rode in silence, I was still amazed by my inexplicable, lucky escape.

We emerged from the woods at the rear of Robinson’s property. I patted Amanda again, elated. “Great job!” As she walked, I checked my cell again. Damn! Nothing. I glanced around. Nobody. All was clear up ahead, too.

I kicked Amanda’s flank and headed straight for the Fielding’s and was there in no time. As we approached, I gave a sigh of relief at seeing their lights on.

“Hold up!” Amanda abruptly stopped. “No more fences! I’ve had enough.” I’d climb the Fielding’s fence and run the rest of the way on foot. I carefully slid off and gave her rump a tap, already knowing from Crystal that Amanda was a homebound horse. I gently tapped her rear flank again.

“Go on home, Amanda. Thanks.”

After a look back at me, she slowly trotted back toward the fields and disappeared into the night. I turned and headed toward my ticket out, feeling relieved, knowing the Fieldings would let me use their phone to call for help.

Chapter 87

What Plan B?

If I made the necessary phone calls, I could still recoup my plan to trap Sarah that I had intended in the first place. But then I stopped. Wait a minute! Was I rearranging chairs on a sinking ship? What was I thinking? There was no longer a grand plan, A or B for that matter. Jacob had thrown me off. Was he working for Sarah? Most likely.

I really didn’t know who else was involved, did I? Who was going to join Jacob at Sally’s house? It could be anybody. Plus I had to get hold of Martha and everyone else to tell them not to meet me back there. Going back to Sally’s farmhouse was clearly dangerous.

I didn’t want to go the police route, at least, not yet. If only I could get hold of Clay. At least I’d know the ladies were safe and away from the farmhouse. I tried to call him on my cell. Still, no signal! I couldn’t get in the Fielding’s door fast enough. Major had a gun. Another gun would be more than welcome, especially since I had no idea where Jacob was. I started to run.

By the time I made it to their side door, I was out of breath. It seemed that all I was doing lately was running out of breath. I was also running out of time and convinced that the paths through the woods were used to cut through these properties without being noticed. It worked perfectly, especially for anyone thoroughly familiar with which way to go and how long it took. Jacob knew it, but hopefully wouldn’t figure out that now I realized it, too.

And believe me, there were enough people around here who knew which way was safe and which way wasn’t. Now it was up to me to figure out who was who. Not so easy when everyone was throwing me off by surprising me with his or her unexpected behavior.

But then again, I seemed to thrive on being thrown the unexpected and running with it. This time though, I was running more than usual, which should have been a clear warning signal for me to take precautions and keep my nose to the ground so to speak.

I bent forward, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. I didn’t want to scare the two elderly Fieldings, but I needed to get to their phone and get some backup. I smiled. I was finally safe. I could call Clay.

Chapter 88

Knock, Knock, Who’s There?

I stood there patiently waiting for someone to answer the door. I always referred to it as hurry up and wait. I suffered from that condition on a daily basis. So whenever I had all the time in the world, things sailed smoothly. Now was not one of those times.

I started to bang on the door, desperate to get in and get to a phone. Finally, after about three minutes, someone opened it. It was Major, wearing, are you ready for this, a dressing gown and scarf. I had stepped into a Humphrey Bogart movie.

Of course, at that particular moment, he could have been wearing a bright red clown suit and it wouldn’t have fazed me. I needed to make some calls. I grabbed the door from his grasp and rushed by him looking around for a phone.

“What the…” he said, surprised by my presence.

“I know, I know, you weren’t expecting me. I’ll explain in a minute. I need to find your phone first to make a call.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, closing the door.

I turned back. “I need to warn Clay. Jacob is after me!”

“Why would he be after you? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. Well, no, I guess I do. It looks like he’s involved with all the clear-cutting going on in this area.”

I wasn’t sure about the bikes, so I said nothing.

“You don’t say!” said Major, completely surprised.

“He might also be involved with someone else, too. I didn’t hang around to find out who. I took off. Being alone, I grabbed the only mode of transportation, Amanda.”

“Why would you be calling Clay and not the police?”

“I don’t want to scare whoever it is away just yet.”

“You don’t?” he asked, still somewhat confused.

“No, but I intend to find them before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” he asked now intrigued.

“Time for whoever else is guilty to skip town.”

“Who did you originally have in mind?”

“Well, it sure wasn’t Jacob, I can tell you that.”

“I’m quite surprised myself,” said Major.

“Don’t be. The guy was a total fake.”

“But he’s such a good artist.”

“Trust me, don’t let that fool you.”

“…Why would he be involved in all of this?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out,” I said.

“Now, what is this related to again?”

“Sarah’s missing forests, remember? The clear-cutting.”

“Oh! Right! …But how did you figure that out?”

“Someone in town saw the same lumber truck driver talking to Jacob in front of his house.”

“Who? …Is that all you have?” Major asked skeptically.

“It’s the exact same driver spotted being paid a wad of cash by Robinson before he pulled his truck away.”

Major stepped back. “…How clever you figured it out!”

Chapter 89

Who Saw Who Do What?

“And how unfortunate,” said a voice from the hallway.

I turned around to have a look and found myself face to face with Millicent, who was holding a gun. “I…”

“You don’t have to explain further,” she said. “Jacob already called us from Sally and Tom’s farm. That idiot went in circles looking for you on foot in the dark.”

“But the last I saw, he was riding Boss.”

“The moron didn’t realize that was a mistake.”

I tried not to, but couldn’t help picturing it and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Major asked.

“After Boss, I’m surprised he could still talk.”

Major shrugged. “He’s talented, but not very smart.”

Even though the situation was heading south, I was now more curious than ever. “What surprises me is the two of you,” I said, looking from one to the other, still amazed.

“Why?” Millicent asked, affronted. “Do we look that decrepit and stupid? Major, dear, how about you go get us some tea while I babysit Miss Troublemaker here.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from spewing a stinging retort. I could see I was treading on thin ice with anger lacing every word this sweet-looking, old lady uttered. I was wrong about Sarah. That meant George lied.

“I would never have suspected your involvement.”

She smiled and sat down in a wing chair, making herself comfortable. “Why thank you, Samantha. Coming from you, that is a real compliment.”

“What I don’t understand is why you’re involved with clear-cutting? There’s not that much money involved, is there? I would think it’s not worth your time, considering this house and your lifestyle.”

She laughed. “You’re right. In the long run, it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans, but you see, it’s only a sliver of our enterprises that we’re involved in.”

I nodded, finally understanding where this was all tied together. They were running a syndicate here, a lot of enterprises running under one roof. But I still wasn’t sure to what extent their tentacles reached. In the meantime, I wanted out of this spider web I was trapped in.

She watched me like a hawk. “Don’t get any ideas. You are not going anywhere and certainly not using our phone.”

I smiled. “Understood. Can I ask you some questions?”

Millicent said, “Depends on what they are. I do have my limits as to what you should know.”

“Oh, I was just curious as to why you went to all this trouble playing the innocent couple. Did you think you would actually get away with murder?”

Millicent dismissed me. “Murder? Don’t be ridiculous!”

She didn’t know? Had I read this all wrong?

Chapter 90

And In This Hand…

I swear, the more I dug, the deeper the hole, and I still hadn’t found the bottom. Maybe I was way off base. Could everything be unrelated? Could there be several agendas going on here? It sounded ridiculous even to over-the-top me, but there had to be another explanation.

She was still staring, surprised, and so I jumped at the chance to take advantage of catching her off guard. This might be the distraction I needed to get to safety.

Major brought tea over to the kitchen table where I was seated. Millicent was sitting over by the fireplace eyeing me closely, her gun resting in her lap. After he poured me some, Major sat next to his wife and handed her a cup.

I wondered if she was a lefty or not and watched to see which hand she favored. She was originally holding the gun in her left hand. When she reached for the cup, she set the gun in her lap and picked up the cup again using her left hand. Got it. I had to time it when she was switching and placing the gun in her lap. I also had to keep her talking so she wouldn’t be so conscious of me observing her moves.

I knew with myself, that although I was a lefty, I still used both hands. I could throw and use scissors with my right. I wrote and ate with my left, but drank with either. So, for a minute I watched her carefully while she and Major exchanged sugar and cream and settled in. I stared at them trying to figure the complete picture. I couldn’t.

I still wasn’t connecting some of the dots.

“Now, what was this about a murder?” Millicent asked.

“I got the part with your multi rip-offs, but what I don’t get is why someone would want to murder him?”

“Murder who? Who are you talking about?”

“Robinson, of course!”

The two of them stared at each other.

Millicent bit first. “Robinson was murdered?”

“Whatever for?” Major asked.

I smiled. “Changes the ballgame, doesn’t it?”

“I should say so!” said Major.

First Millicent, then Major shifted in their chairs. It was subtle, but I picked up on it immediately. Was Millicent aware of something that Major was not? Had she done something behind his back? Was he the clueless husband?

I tossed that around for all of about fifteen seconds, and then nixed the idea. But then turned my attention to Major. Had he done something behind Millicent’s back?

I had to get out. Millicent was holding a gun and flexing her trigger finger. I felt like an accident waiting to happen.

I certainly didn’t need the extra help of someone else.

Chapter 91

There’s Luck, And Then There’s Dumb Luck

I was about to say something when the phone rang. Now, who was calling? Jacob? Someone else? I was still trying to figure out exactly when would be a good time to take off for either their kitchen or foyer door.

I heard bits and pieces, but gave up eavesdropping on Millicent and what was being said. It was too cryptic. After that call, I was suddenly more interested in hearing how far-reaching their operations extended. And the only way to find that out, I realized, was to keep them talking.

Could I play them off of each other?

A flicker of fear, followed by a flash of anger quickly crossed Millicent’s face. She hung up, and then turned toward me. Major went to her side and they briefly whispered something, but I couldn’t catch what it was.

It was clear, Millicent was the one in charge in this marriage, as she gently, but firmly moved him aside and looked at me. “Well, I guess the tables might have turned in your favor somewhat, Samantha. No one else has shown up at Sally’s, so I told Jacob to meet us, here.”

I silently gave a sigh of relief, thinking sometimes I was downright lucky. But then I panicked again. Where was everybody? Obviously, no one knew what happened to me yet or exactly where I was. I had to stall them for time.

Keep them talking.

“Do you mind me asking you a question?” I asked.

Millicent eyed Major, warning him to keep silent, then nodded at me. “Exactly what did you want to know?”

“How many of you are involved in the clear-cutting?”

She laughed. “You expect me to answer that truthfully?”

“What have you got to lose? I’m not going anywhere, am I? You have the gun, remember? And you know I’m going crazy trying to figure this thing out. Why not give me something? What am I going to do with the information?”

“You have a point. We can’t let you leave here alive.”

“I’ve only pieced together a loose patchwork of guesses. This thing is so interwoven, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that something more is going on in the area.”

I was fishing about the blackmail and chop shops.

“How clever a guess, Samantha. I will admit that you are partially right, but I’m afraid we can’t take credit for all that is going on around here.”

What else did she know? Maybe I could throw them off.

I sat there, and then decided to shoot from the hip.

“You weren’t responsible for Robinson’s death, right?”

“Correct.”

“But you did clear-cut.”

“Yes.”

I then stared at Major. “And you sold phony souvenirs.”

Chapter 92

What Were You Willing To Pay?

Major shot a look toward Millicent.

“What were you willing to pay, Millicent?” I asked.

She looked confused. “Pay? You’re not making sense.”

I looked at Major. “You mean you didn’t confide in the little business you had going on the side?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, young lady,” he said, jumping up to pour more tea.

Yes! I took another shot. “Oh, but I beg to differ. Plus, you were blackmailing Sarah, too, weren’t you?”

Millicent’s gaze tore into Major as he poured tea. Shock and anger were clearly visible. “Now, why would you be blackmailing her? Is that true, Major?”

“She doesn’t know what she talking about, my dear.”

The phone rang and Major froze. After three rings, Millicent grabbed it. “Yes?” she asked angrily.

I sat there watching her, and then watched Major. He was fidgeting like crazy. Had I hit a nerve?

Millicent furrowed her brow. “What? Then let’s do it!”

I was about ten feet from the back door and about thirty feet from the front door down the hallway. I tried to figure my odds of making it out of there. They were iffy at best, including taking into account my agility against theirs. I had clearly bought into their sweet-old-couple routine. My luck, they probably ran the Boston marathon each year.

I tried to rationalize the fact that they were two against one, and I shouldn’t try anything crazy, but it wasn’t working for me. I had to get out of there. On the other hand, they had a gun, I didn’t. Where was Martha’s Berretta, when I needed it?

Probably back home in Highlands, North Carolina, where she left it. I didn’t think New Hampshire had reciprocity for a seventy-something, crazy woman to be brandishing anything wildly resembling a firearm. And I’m not even addressing the other two. I had to get out. How?

After disconnecting the call, she turned her attention back to me. “You know, sometimes the best laid plans…”

I laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I figured with your go-get-them attitude, and if the circumstances were different, you would have fit in nicely with this organization. Now George can’t be reached.”

“There’s one thing wrong with that idea.”

“What’s that?” Millicent asked, appraising me.

“I couldn’t live with myself.” George is in on this?

“Yes, but at least you’d live.”

I nodded nervously. “Yeah, there is that little detail.”

Millicent smiled. “Samantha, it’s all about the details.”

“All well and good,” I replied. “But it’s the big picture I try to focus on. It gives me better perspective.”

She laughed. “Who needs perspective? I have the gun.”

I had to warn Sarah about George.

Chapter 93

An Unexpected Interruption

Through all this back and forth, and after the last phone call, I noticed Millicent shoot Major several glances, probably recalling their unfinished conversation. A slight tremor caught my eye. Major appeared uncomfortable. I guess he figured he had some explaining to do, and quick.

When Millicent reached out, he jerked, spilling his hot tea on her lap. Jumping up, she laced into him. “You fool!”

Major reached over with his napkin. “Sorry, I…”

Neither of them noticed the gun slip to the floor. I did, though, and bolted from my chair, aiming for the front door. I flung it open, and took off like a bat into the black of night. No way was I veering to the backfields and woods, I shot for the edges of the dirt road toward Sarah’s. Somehow I had to warn her about George’s involvement.

As I tore through the brush, I could hear muffled voices from behind shouting in the distance. The Fieldings were probably searching around outside their house arguing, trying to figure out which way I ran. My legs were pumping so fast, I felt them starting to cramp in protest.

I checked my cell. No signal. I swear I needed to get into better shape. This chase stuff was meant for my mysteries, not me personally. I knew some authors liked to get into character, experiencing what their protagonist was going through, but I drew the line at getting shot at. Okay, so maybe I may have once or twice embellished just a tad. But it was for dramatic purposes only.

I believe it’s called taking literary license?

By the time I reached Sally’s driveway, a wave of relief washed over me when I saw a single light shining from a downstairs window. It was glaring like a beacon of safety. I rushed to the entrance and hit the doorbell, as well as banging on the door. With George missing, she’d be alone.

An out-of-breath Sarah opened the door. “My goodness, Samantha. You gave me a fright with all that noise.”

“Sorry, I’m in sort of a rush,” I said brushing past her.

“I guess so,” she said, shutting the door behind me.

“I need to use your phone. Where is it?”

“It’s right over on that table,” she said, pointing. “What is this all about? Why are you here asking to use my phone? Where is yours?”

“No signal! Look, it’s a long story, but it involves the missing forest, forgeries, your blackmail, and possibly an illegal chop shop,” I blurted out in a rush as I started pushing the buttons on the phone. Before I could hit the last number, her hand covered mine, stopping me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Well, guess what I did? I turned around…real slow.

Chapter 94

Choices, Assessments, Decisions

That’s because a metal object was jammed into my back. It’s called a gun. And you know how I feel about guns. I have the utmost respect for them, especially when they are loaded and aimed directly at me. Unfortunately, lately they’ve been aimed at me quite a lot.

I was bordering on being annoyed. This whole gun thing was starting to get to me. How many people would be pointing guns at me that night? And I thought that this was going to be a simple act of getting my ass out of trouble, but it seemed all I was doing was getting in deeper.

“Do you mind telling me what this is about?” I asked.

“Sorry. I didn’t like that last part about chop shops.”

Another shoe had dropped. “…Oh, and that’s you?”

She nodded. “Yes, me and a number of others.”

“You mean your business associates I saw that night?”

“Amusing choice of words. But yes, you’re right.”

Then I remembered George showing me the Harley part.

“So was your barn being used?”

“It was for a short while until certain individuals started snooping around and getting suspicious.”

George hadn’t lied. He wasn’t involved. She was.

“So you decided to move operations.”

“Right. We found it prudent to move elsewhere.”

I could guess where that place might be, but I wasn’t absolutely sure and had to bide my time. If I got her angry, I’d have another ticked-off woman to deal with. And I have had enough of ticked-off women lately, including my crew.

It reminded me of something I was told. How do you diffuse a bunch of angry, hormonal women in a room? Change the dynamics. Throw in a condescending male and lock the door. It’s a matter of refocusing their perspective.

Unfortunately, there weren’t any condescending males in the area at the moment so I had to think of something else. “How long have you been doing this?”

“We travel from one bike week rally to the next.”

“So because it doesn’t last that long, no one ever has the time to investigate extensively the locations and close in.”

She nodded. “It has worked out quite well for us.”

I thought about her lies. “And what about your brother?”

“I lied. There was no brother, just an associate of mine.”

“I assume he played a major part in all this?”

“Of course! He was the mastermind.”

“There is one thing that has me puzzled,” I said.

“And what is that?”

“Why would Jackson jeopardize his property for you?”

She looked at me quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“He’s your brother.”

She began laughing. “…Oh, Sam, who told you that?”

Had I misunderstood Dan’s words, or had he lied to me?

Did I guess wrong again? Sounds like it, doesn’t it?

Chapter 95

Backtracking, But Moving Forward

I plastered a smile on my face, trying to fast-track a clever answer for her. Sadly, I didn’t have one.

“I think you’ve been played for a fool,” Sarah said.

I knew one thing for sure after that eye-opener. I had to get out of there before she lost her sense of humor. I’d lost mine finding out she was the crooked one. I was stumbling from one bad choice to another that night and running out of options of where to run next.

Wait! Could Jackson and Dan be working together?

I briefly considered, trying to physically overtake this unpredictable woman, but then changed my mind. Guns changed the dynamics of everything, bullets included.

Just as I eyed the door, the phone rang. Who was it? I stared at that door again.

“Hello?” she said. “Yes, I’ll wait for you, if you say so.”

Yeah? And do what to me? I was out of there. That is, as soon as I could figure out how to do the impossible, leave.

She hung up the phone and said, “Sit.”

I smiled feebly, saying, “With all this excitement and running, I have to go to the bathroom. Do you mind?”

She looked me over. “I guess. Just don’t get any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” I said. “Where to?”

She pointed to a door down the hall and followed. The minute I latched the lock quietly in place, I turned around and smiled. A window! I ran the same routine and let the water trickle in the sink, while I eased the window open and gingerly climbed out.

I dropped to the ground in the dark taking the absolute last route open to me: Jackson’s place. If he was involved in all this, I was giving up. They could shoot me at will. I was out of alternatives and couldn’t think where else to run.

I took off, but kept to Sarah’s side of the road. Heading for Jackson’s was my last resort. Where was everyone? I had been betrayed and lied to and was now in lockdown mode. I didn’t trust anyone. I had to get out of this alive and ran like my life depended on it. Speed dialing, I screamed into my cell, got static noises, then nothing.

I stumbled a few times as I dove for cover when a few trucks swung by. Not trusting anyone on the road that night, I felt compelled to stay off their radar. I was now pretty sure they had everyone out looking for me. Were they all tied together or were they working individually?

After what seemed like forever, but was only several minutes, I arrived at Jackson’s closed gate and frantically climbed over it. I sprinted to his house barely able to stand straight by the time I reached his entrance, gasping for air. I was about to hit the doorbell, when the door swung open.

Jackson was holding a gun.

Damn!

Chapter 96

Now What?

I felt a gentle slapping as I tried to make sense of the hazy shape hovering over me. It slowly came into focus after I blinked a few more times. It was Jackson and he was brushing strands of hair from my face.

I was reclining on what appeared to be his sofa inside his house. Thankfully the lights were turned down low because I felt a stress headache coming on. A damp cloth was on my forehead. I reached for it and pulled it away.

“What happened?” I asked foggily.

“You fainted on my doorstep.”

Then it all came rushing back. I was no longer outside, but inside enemy territory. The gun! I shoved his hand away and tried to get up. I had to get out or I was a goner.

His other hand gently, but firmly pushed me back. “Easy there. You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”

I had heard that phrase from so many people over the last hour or so that I was losing count. Even though I was chilled from a newfound fear creeping up my spine, I began sweating. How was I going to talk my way out of this? And if I did manage to escape, where would I go?

The only people I trusted were nowhere to be found. That I found extremely disturbing and unsettling. Could something have happened to them? That thought was absurd. How could something happen to five people all at once? But when I thought of the nasty people I was dealing with, that possibility seemed very real and very frightening.

I know this was pushing my luck one time too many, but I thought, hey, let me give it one more try. After all, it had already worked two times before.

“I think I can walk. I really need to use the bathroom.”

He shook his head and smiled. “I don’t think so. It’s out of commission. The plumber is coming tomorrow to fix it.”

“Don’t you have another one?” I asked, anxiously.

“Nope, I’m afraid not,” he said, and then he winked.

I swallowed and gave a halfhearted, “…Oh, I see.”

Jackson chuckled. “Good try though. I can see all of our distractions kept you pretty busy and distracted for days.”

“So I wouldn’t figure it out until you were long gone.”

“Right. I’ll get us coffee. Don’t move,” he ordered.

“Where would I go?” I said, already racking my brains.

“I’m your last stop, young lady, so don’t get any ideas.”

With him in the kitchen, I looked around for his gun. I didn’t see it anywhere. Had I imagined seeing him hold it at the front door moments earlier? No, I clearly saw it and needed to get out of there, ASAP.

“Do you take sugar and cream?” he called out to me.

I was already on my feet. “…Uh, yes.”

The front door was only a few feet away and I ran for it. There was just one thing wrong. It was key-locked! I had to get out! I turned in a panic, like a caged animal.

Chapter 97

Surprise!

But Jackson was at my side in a heartbeat, holding that gun again, and it was aimed directly at me.

“I knew I wasn’t seeing things,” I said, flatly.

He laughed. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“What do you intend to do?” I asked.

He laughed again. “Why kill you, of course!”

Suddenly, a loud pounding at the door made us both jump. He put his finger to his lips, motioning for me not to say a word and to step back, as he unlocked the door.

There stood Clay, Crystal, Martha, Betty and Hazel. I wanted to scream and warn them as they shoved me out of the way and rushed into the house all yakking at once.

“What’s all this about you yelling into your phone like some kind of crazy woman?” Martha asked. “I mean you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“What is the problem here?” asked Betty, politely nodding to Jackson, who had deftly tucked his gun behind him, obviously still deciding how to play the situation.

“Honestly, Sam,” Hazel chastised, “You might’ve asked us to join you. After all, it’s our investigation, too, dear.”

Crystal smirked. “I’m disappointed. You know how I like a good kick-ass confrontation. Did I miss anything?”

Clay kissed the top of my head and whispered in my ear so only I heard his words. “Relax, we’re here.”

What did that mean? What were they doing at Jackson’s house at the same time? How did they know I was there? I was speechless. Now, we were all in trouble.

“Perfect,” said a loud voice rising above the chatter. Silenced, we turned as one. Millicent, Major, Sarah, and Jacob stood there, holding guns aimed in our direction.

Millicent came forward. “How about all of you move away from the door a little. And don’t do anything stupid.”

We did the math and the ones with the guns were odds on favorites in who had the last say. So we all moved over. This was not how I thought this would play out. Something had to change, but I was at a loss for a plan.

Hazel stepped forward. “This behavior is unacceptable.”

“Shut up, old lady,” said Millicent.

“Who you calling an old lady, you hag?” Martha said.

Betty leaned in to grab Martha and Hazel back. “Easy.”

Crystal was tapping her fingers doing a slow burn.

Millicent laughed mockingly. “You’re all amateurs.”

“Who you calling an amateur?” snapped Crystal angrily.

I eyed Jackson’s clock.

9 p.m. A lethal time? No, not in this book.

While they talked, I edged my way over to the front door. Maybe I could go get help, but then I froze just shy of the handle as Jackson grabbed my arm, stopping me.

He pressed his gun to my chest. “I wouldn’t try that.”

Chapter 98

Surprise After Surprise

Jackson locked and leaned against the door. I was still facing him with my back to the room, as his crew began laughing over what a coup they pulled off and how fate played right into their hands.

He smirked. “Now, Sam, did you think with all the money that’s involved, you were going to escape from here alive? With everyone ending up here, it has worked out perfectly. I couldn’t have planned it any better myself.”

I stepped back. “You’re joking, right?”

He cocked the gun. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

I stared down at his gun. “On second thought …no.”

His eyes briefly glanced up, acknowledging someone over my shoulder, then focused back on me. I quickly turned to have a look. Sarah. Everyone stopped talking and watched me turn back to Jackson, as I laughed confidently.

“Okay,” I announced. “Tell her I know who she is.”

I pivoted back again as she slowly stepped forward.

“How did you guess, Samantha?”

“I’m a blonde, but I’m not stupid. You couldn’t resist, could you, taking a picture of you and your son, Jackson? Somehow Robinson got hold of it. Being Jackson’s father, he recognized the new you on one of his lucid days.”

Martha gaped. “Well, I’ll be darned. She’s his mother?”

If looks could kill, Sarah would have done it right then.

“I never did find that damn picture,” Sarah shot back.

“Well, I did.” I could tell I was getting to her. Good.

“I don’t believe you. You’re lying and stalling for time.”

I whipped it out of my pocket and held it up. Crystal snatched it out of my hand and stared at it, then at Sarah.

“You’re right, it’s her. Where did you get this?”

“At Robinson’s, in his safe. When Clay explained about Jackson’s mother, remember I said I had a hunch? I held it back until I put two and two together and was sure.”

Hazel laughed. “And eventually, you got four, right?”

“Robinson had a safe?” spat Sarah, now clearly upset.

“Hazel, you stare at something long enough, eventually it hits, especially after she pulled that gun on me tonight. Different hair color, nicer clothes, makeup, haircut, subtle plastic surgery, and the last piece finally fell into place.”

Sarah shrugged, then laughed. “Why bother denying it? Robinson had an affair with Helen, my best friend, and when she pressured him to marry her, he dumped her. I was next on his target list and fell for his sweet talk and all his attention. Guess who got pregnant? Me of course, the one who wanted nothing to do with kids. When Helen found out I went behind her back, she went crazy. But when I told her I was all set to have an abortion, she surprised me by pleading with me not to. Helen confessed that if she couldn’t have Robinson, then she wanted the next best thing, his baby.”

I turned to see Jackson’s reaction. There was none. His face was a blank. He knew. It always came down to money.

“Helen wore me down and we left town. No one knew.”

“But his birth certificate said Helen was his mother.”

Sarah laughed. “I delivered him under her name. I took off and she returned to Tilton with Jackson as hers with a legitimate birth certificate with Robinson being the father.”

“But was the blackmail story you gave me true?”

“Yes, when Robinson realized that Jackson was mine and not Helen’s, and George had no idea that I had a child out of wedlock, he saw a unique financial opportunity. Then on one of his visits he managed to steal that picture of Jackson with me and stole some hidden money from the business. He laughed when I confronted him, and said I was a financial bonanza. Evidently, shoving him down his own stairs wasn’t a good enough warning. So I finally had to put a stop to his meddling and another lucid memory. Helen being killed in that home invasion was a gift.”

“You know, Sarah, it didn’t connect when George said you were a hairdresser in Tilton. But then tonight, I realized you were the local link to everything all along.”

Hazel was closest to me and clearly upset by the turn of events. “Oh my! Where’s George? Think they killed him?”

Martha sneered. “I wouldn’t put it past the nasty bunch.”

Betty clutched her stomach. “But why kill him?”

“Because he probably confronted his wife,” said Crystal.

Clay shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

I nodded in agreement. “You see, George was going broke sooner than he expected. His puritanical view took a backseat when he suddenly saw an opportunity with their crime ring and, when he realized how financially rewarding it could be, he grabbed it, right, George?”

Chapter 99

You’re Kidding!

George laughed, stepping into the room. “Clever, Sam.”

Betty looked at him, and then at me. “You’re kidding!”

I shrugged. “Nope. Old Georgie-boy is in this, too.”

George said, “We figured we’d be long gone before the rally was over, but you kept complicating things. So we played along until the barn was empty and wiped clean.”

I smiled. “Tonight everyone was leaving, but I escaped from Jacob and you had to reinvent the wheel, so to speak.”

I heard a laugh and turned. It was Major, who was standing behind Millicent. “Lucky for us, if you’d bothered to search the rest of Robinson’s hayloft you would have discovered the other crates of fake daggers and diaries.”

“We played along,” said Millicent, “when Jacob called and said the whole thing was falling apart. The seven of us decided it didn’t matter whether we got rid of you one at a time in the dark, or in a group. That’s why I said ‘perfect’ when you all showed up at once. We can now go through with the unexpected propane explosion at Sally’s farm.”

Jacob dropped the last surprise. “An average artist really doesn’t make much, but forgeries do. I sweated, not sure, Sam, if you’d peek under the tarps and see those fake signatures. That’s when I told the others we had to leave.”

“Hey, you’re not seven, you’re six,” said Martha.

A smiling Ciao Baby and his gun stepped in behind the others, joining them. “Hey, this sets me up for retirement.”

Clay, who looked shocked, said, “They bought you?”

“Everyone has their price, and I had mine. Sorry, Clay.”

The two groups faced off on both sides of the room.

I did some quick math. There were six of us. Martha stood about four feet from me and threw me a glance. She had done the same math. She flashed six fingers against her slacks. Clay who was standing right between us suddenly noticed what was going on. “No!” he hissed.

Jackson stepped in. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“We wouldn’t think of it,” snapped Martha sarcastically.

I subtly gave her a negative gesture, needing more time.

Jackson grabbed my arm and Clay moved to stop him.

“Don’t,” warned Jackson, aiming the gun at my side. “We’re all going to leave real nice-like. I think it’s time this crime ring moved on to more fertile territory.”

“Let’s go, folks,” said George. “Time to head over to Sally’s for that nice little propane explosion.”

By this time, Jackson had let go, fished a key from his pocket, and handed it to me. I unlocked and opened the door, then handed him his key. His back was to the door to keep an eye on us. He didn’t see who was standing there.

I smiled when I saw who was wearing that FBI jacket.

“Surprise,” said special agent, Dan, holding a shotgun.

A completely shocked Jackson whipped around to stare outside and immediately dropped his gun to the ground.

Chapter 100

And In This Corner

In seconds, Clay was holding out his own gun, winking at Ciao Baby, who smiled, aiming his. FBI agents appeared from everywhere, seizing guns and applying handcuffs.

Everyone started talking at once, all excited.

Martha eyed a handcuffed George as he was escorted out the door. “You know, I had my pepper spray in my pocket. I would have used it, too, you old goat!” she said, as he ducked to get away from her.

Betty and Hazel joined her, pulling out their cans, too.

“I can’t believe we pulled this off,” Crystal said.

Clay walked away from the lead agent and joined us after the last of the perpetrators were taken away.

I couldn’t believe my plan actually worked after Clay and Ciao Baby let us in on what they thought was going down, but weren’t sure when. Jacob unexpectedly showing up at Sally’s surprised everyone, but apparently I played it beautifully. Sally and Tom’s farmhouse was wired. Our every word was closely monitored until I lost my cell signal and the tracking device fell off when I was riding Amanda. No one knew where I was until the very end when I screamed into my phone that I was running for Jackson’s, hoping they could get there first. They didn’t.

Relieved it was over, I then turned to Clay. “And here I thought this was going to be a romantic getaway.”

He kissed the top on my head again. “I’m sorry your cell had no signal tonight when you needed it the most. But we moved quickly when we finally heard you screaming on your last call. It was patchy at best, but we got the SOS message, figuring we stood a better chance if we all barged in, giving better odds to your survival by distracting them and gaining some time for all the agents to get into place.”

I frowned. “The ladies were at risk, too, all this time.”

Clay nudged me. “We had it covered. There was an agent assigned to them at all times. We had their purses wired, too. So when the ladies went anywhere, we heard what was said. At the slightest risk of danger, we’d go in.”

Ciao Baby came over and shook my hand. “I let those slime-balls think I’d turned for a quick buck so there would be someone on the inside toward the end for evidence.”

Ciao Baby then winked at Martha. “Is our date still on?”

Hazel snorted. “Martha, does he know your real age?”

Betty laughed at Martha. “You’re one for the books.”

Crystal shook her head. “You’re all crazy.”

Suddenly, Martha’s cell rang. “Hello? Now, calm down. Talk slower. You’re not making any sense. …What?”

I rushed to her side. “…What’s wrong? …Who is it?”

Martha turned to me. “It’s Mona. She’s in Boca. She’s all upset and said to tell you that Marco is dead!”

Then everyone turned to me, waiting for my response.

I stood there staring. “…Who’s Marco?”

About the Author

Peggy A. Edelheit has three sons, lives with her husband, Miniature Schnauzer & spends time between Bucks County, PA and South Florida.

Also By The Author

The Puzzle (Vol. 1)

Without Any Warning (Vol. 2)

86 Avenue du Goulet (Vol. 3)

Visit the author’s website: http://www.samanthajamison.com

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Twitter: @samanthajamison