Winter's Secret (12 page)

A woman with a forceful voice spoke in quick even beats. "We need you to come out here. It's that Dietz bunch. They're always up to something."

Instinctively, Rodd didn't appreciate the woman's complaining busybody tone. He didn't think he'd like her as a neighbor any more than the Dietzes probably did.

She went on, "I think some of the younger ones are planning a kegger over in that old barn way back on their property."

So the kegger, that speck in his eye, rubbed and stung him more. "Why do you think that, ma'am?"

"It's happened before on holidays, and late last night I seen that Elroy Dietz drive by our house, then off the road to the old barn. Ain't any reason for him to be out there. And this morning, I seen several young boys—teens—snowmobile out that way."

"Is that unusual?"

"On Thanksgiving Day it is. I'll bet you anything that Elroy bought a keg or two of beer for his nephews and their friends for tonight. Though where he got the money, I don't know. Now I don't want a bunch of liquored-up kids driving snowmobiles onto the ice on Tamarack Lake over here or smashing into trees," she insisted.

"I don't either, ma'am. I'll get right on it."

"Well, I hope so, but don't you let on to them Dietzes it was me that called. They're an ornery bunch, especially that sneaky Elroy. He's just as bad as the Riekers. I hear you're making up to Wendy Carey. Did you know she's a Rieker on her mother's side—"

Rodd cut her off. "Don't worry, ma'am. This conversation is confidential."

"Good. Now don't mess this up like you did that business at Olson's. Good-bye." Click.

Rodd strangled the receiver in his hand. Listening to the dial tone start, he hung up. Mrs. Beltziger needed to reread her copy of
How to Win Friends and Influence People
. Her comment about Wendy had come close to making him hang up on her. Who cared who Wendy was related to? Then to top it all off, the unpleasant woman had put into words the fiasco at Olson's. That had been his best shot so far at catching the Weasel red-handed. In the weeks since, the snowmobile thief had lain low.

Now a kegger might be on today's agenda. Rodd called dispatch to find the location of another deputy. He was on the other side of the county busy enforcing a no-contact order. Rodd told dispatch to have the deputy contact him as soon as he could.

When Wendy let herself back in, cold air rushed inside the Jeep. She eyed him. "Can you go on, or do you need to be off on a call?"

"I've got time," he said, keeping his tone light. A sharp woman, Wendy had already picked up on his preoccupation. He drove back onto the highway. Now he could discuss his plan to catch the Weasel."I contacted Gus Feeney in LaFollette."

"What did he say?" Her quick interest showed in her voice.

"He said he'd think about it. He seemed to think that I should keep the thief in Steadfast."

"That sounds like someone from LaFollette, not Gus. Maybe it's because you're new in the county."

"Why would someone in LaFollette—"

"It's just an old feud between the two towns. But my grandfather and Gus served together in the Korean War , and vets from any war are welcome at the VFW for bingo. You just have to ask him again."

"I will. The big bingo night fund-raiser is still two weeks away. I want to have time to really build up how successful the event will be so Gus will become a target. Or should I say his house?"

"How will you do that?"

He grinned. "My deputies and I will prime the gossip pump, and I'll ask Old Doc to really promote it and Gus in Cram's paper. Then Gus will have to be overcome with the excitement—his heartbeat becoming irregular—and be taken into the clinic. I've driven past Gus's house, and an ambulance would have to go past Flanagan's both ways. I'm certain the thief, whoever he is, will be there and want to find out who is in the ambulance. And if the thief doesn't nibble the bait, Old Doc could keep Gus over a second night."

"Sounds good. I'll pray about it."

He made no reply. They reached the next stop.

Wendy glanced at him, a worried look on her face.

He paused. Something was bothering her. He looked at the house, then back at Wendy. "Why don't I deliver this one?"

"No, I don't think you'll ..." She confessed, "This is Veda McCracken's house—"

"Then I'm definitely delivering this one—"

"No, I—"

Rodd climbed out and went to the back. The least he could do today was protect Wendy from the woman who counted Wendy her enemy.

"I—" Wendy tried to object again.

"I'll be right back." With tray in hand, he trotted up the rickety steps and knocked on the door.

Veda opened the door, scowled at him, took the tray, and slammed the door.

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Miss McCracken!" he said to the door. Back in the car, he cleared his throat. "Would you mind telling me what that woman has against the world?"

Wendy lowered her gaze. "Veda is my father's aunt."

"Your aunt?" This close relationship between Veda and Wendy hadn't occurred to him, but again he had overheard comments, which now became clearer to him. "I won't hold you responsible for that! Why is she angry all the time?"

Wendy tried to smile. "My grandfather tried to answer that for me once. He showed me a picture of my grandmother, his late wife, who was Veda's older sister. She was blonde, petite, and very pretty—and popular, he said. She was everything that Veda never was. Grandfather said Veda was jealous of her older sister from the cradle. It made her spiteful when people went on and on about how pretty and sweet her older sister was. He thinks that's why she first became so nasty. But..."

"But?" Rodd prompted.

"But my mother always says that Veda just enjoys being mean. She likes people to shy away from her, be afraid of her. And some try to keep on her good side like Miss Frantz. Controlling people must make Veda feel powerful or something. I don't get it myself."

Rodd let the unpleasant topic drop. Why spoil Thanksgiving with thoughts about Veda McCracken? Only God knew what made a woman turn so bitter.

Wendy and he made five more quick stops, and then Wendy asked him to drive to Flanagan's.

"Flanagan's?" He'd already intended to stop there after Thanksgiving dinner in his official capacity in an attempt to daunt its rowdier customers from making trouble.

"I think my Uncle Dutch will be there." Wendy sounded stung by Rodd's disparaging tone; her voice stiffened.

Guilt over embarrassing her made his face warm. Here she was showing true charity. And he was coming off as a holier-than-thou hypocrite.

She went on in a subdued tone, "I need to drop a dinner off for him. I promised Mom."

"Fine." While more snowflakes landed on his windshield, he drove over the empty roads to the bar. Wendy stirred his compassion. First Dutch Rieker, now Veda McCracken—Wendy had been burdened with a fine set of relatives.

Though only noon, several cars and trucks were already parked around Flanagan's under its garish green shamrock sign. Loud country music blasted from inside.

He parked and glanced at her. He just couldn't see this young woman going into a dive like Flanagan's. "I'd be glad to take it in for you."

She turned to him and smiled with her head cocked slightly. "No, I think I should do this myself." Her gaze slid down from his face to her lap. "I haven't been to Flanagan's since ...well, for a very long time. I hate to go in, but I think this is what I should do. Uncle Dutch, no matter what his faults, is still my mother's brother."

Her words only strengthened Rodd's high opinion of Wendy Carey. He got out and walked to her side and helped her out.

Helping her walk over the packed-down gray snow on the gravel parking lot, Rodd escorted Wendy inside with quiet pride. He paused just inside the door to let his eyes adjust to the murky interior. All eyes turned toward him, the usual response he received when entering Flanagan's. Over the haze of cigarette smoke, he picked out Dutch's white blond hair. Wendy must have seen it too, because she made a beeline for the man.

Rodd also located Elroy Dietz at the end of the bar, playing a pinball machine. Elroy hit the jackpot and did an odd little hand-pumping gesture and peculiar hooting laugh. Would he be arresting Dietz tonight? The odor of stale beer and cigarettes hung in the sluggish air, a sickening mix. To Rodd, Wendy glowed like a pure-white candle. Didn't anyone else notice it?

"Wendy girl!" Holding a cue, Dutch straightened up from the pool table. The blaring jukebox fell suddenly silent, letting the other sounds surface—the crack of balls hitting each other at the break, the swish of water as the bartender washed glasses, and the low rumble of voices.

Walking behind Wendy, Rodd met each glance with a hard stare, letting everyone know they'd better be on their best behavior.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Uncle Dutch." She let the scruffy man hug her with one arm and kiss her cheek.

"Same to you, honey. What's that in your hand?"

"Since you wouldn't join Sage and me at the church, I brought you a plate of dinner."

"Well, thank you. I miss your mother this year. She can sure cook a turkey."

Rodd noted the sincerity in Dutch's voice. How did Wendy Carey and Dutch Rieker fit in the same family? It made him wonder about Wendy's mother ...about Harlan's late son, too. How had a Rieker married a Carey?

Wendy replied softly, "I miss Mom too."

Dutch received the plate from Wendy. "But I'm happy for her. She snagged herself a good man this time. She finally got her happy ending."

Wendy smiled. "I think so."

Dutch eyed the sheriff and gave him a cocky grin. "I been hearing you're sweet on my niece."

A few men around the pool table sniggered at this. The fierce urge to shut their mouths arced through Rodd. But a law against being a jerk hadn't been passed yet.

As though he hadn't heard the sniggering, Rodd kept his voice neutral. "Happy Thanksgiving, Rieker."

"Well," Wendy, blushing, stammered, "we'll be going."

Dutch pulled Wendy into another brief, one-armed embrace and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Wendy girl. Bye, Sheriff. Happy Thanksgiving!"

Wendy looked troubled but gave her uncle another hug, then turned and led Rodd outside to the Jeep.

Relieved to be done with Flanagan's, he drove away, heading back to town for their dinner at church.

Staring straight ahead, Wendy said in an odd tone, "Uncle Dutch whispered something to me. He said I should tell you there's going to be a kegger out at Dietz's tonight."

The urge to slam on the brakes hit Rodd. Three separate sources clinched it. Later, he'd be dealing with a kegger. Outwardly calm, he asked, "Why would he think that?"

Wendy gathered her pride around her, stung fresh every time something like this happened to stir it up again. "Uncle Dutch and Elroy Dietz are enemies. In fact, the Dietz and Rieker families haven't gotten along for two, maybe three, generations." Wendy considered bringing up the fact that Sage and Trav had defied this feud but decided it wasn't the time.

"Why are your uncle and Elroy Dietz enemies?"

Wendy hated to bring up the past. "I don't know the whole story. It has something to do with my mom when she was young." The sheriff didn't need to hear that story.

"I see." Rodd fell silent.

Uneasy, Wendy squirmed inside. But she wouldn't disown her mother's family, especially Uncle Dutch, who had helped support her when her "God-fearing" father's mother had refused to admit she existed. And Veda who never missed a Sunday at church had done everything possible to make Wendy's mother's life miserable.

"How would your uncle know about what Dietz is up to?"

Wendy sighed and smoothed the skirt of her dress with both hands. "He makes it his business to know."

"I see."

Wendy didn't like the sheriff's disapproving tone. She pushed it aside. The meals were all delivered. Thanksgiving dinner awaited them at the church. She couldn't change her uncle or the feud with the Dietzes. She just wished she weren't so aware of Rodd sitting next to her.

Ever since those few moments alone with him that night in Good Hope, she'd had to fight her growing attraction to the sheriff. The more she tried to avoid him, the more they were thrown together. At least it seemed that way to her. As if with a will of their own, her eyes turned to him. His freshly shaven jaw with the small white scar drew her attention. Her unruly mind brought back the sensation of his lips grazing her sensitive nape that night at the church.

With determination, she turned her gaze to the familiar scenes passing by the window on the way back to town. The sheriff seemed preoccupied. Her thoughts jumped ahead to dinner. Today, she'd spend the first Thanksgiving without her mother. That fact kept trying to drag her emotions into the minus column. But she, Sage, and Trav would have Thanksgiving with her grandfather at church.
Lord, this can be a good day; make it so. And please help Mom and Jim adjust to their move.

Once again, her disobedient mind brought Rodd into her thoughts. Why couldn't she stay neutral toward him?