If Onions Could Spring Leeks (20 page)

Another moment later, the printer came to a gentle stop and Jake grabbed the papers from its tray. He spread them out on the table.

“Let's see. We had a hanging,” he said as he peered at
the page. “It probably only made the news because it was successful. The rope did not break.”

“That would have been news,” I said.

“Three cows got loose from a local farm. Apparently, they caused quite the commotion downtown.”

“Okay,” I said. I was looking at the second sheet, but the news was similar to what Jake had mentioned. There'd been a bar brawl and a gunfight. Typical day in Broken Rope.

But on the third page in an article dated August eighteenth, I found something.

The small headline said:
Potential Disturbance Reported Behind the Train Depot. Police Seek Answers.

“Jake, here.” I pointed at the small article.

Jake read the rest of it aloud: “Mrs. Truman Oliphant reported that she thought she heard screams last night coming from the field behind the train depot. She sent Mr. Truman out to investigate, but he did not find a disturbance. Police followed up with a search of the scene and reported that they discovered what might be blood. They are asking for the public's help in determining if someone was hurt.”

“That's it?” I said when he didn't say more.

“That's it for that day,” Jake said. “More might have happened later. I can look.” He went back to the computer.

“Another ‘almost there,'” I said.

“Well, yes, but we're a little closer than we were a few minutes ago.”

“My ever optimistic friend.”

“A quick scan at the next few days isn't showing me anything, but we can look closely at the weeks following the incident. Hang on.” He stifled a yawn.

He would work at this all night if I asked him to. It wasn't
fair. “Not tonight, Jake. I've taken up more of your time than I should have. Maybe tomorrow if you have time.”

“Sure? Okay. Hey, Betts, are you all right?” He looked at me like he might check my forehead for fever again.

“I'm great. Why?”

“Lots going on.”

“No more than what's becoming usual.”

“Still.”

I looked at my concerned friend. “You know what, I'm great, Jake. Maybe better than I have been for a long time. There was something about telling Teddy about the ghosts that really helped. It was like I shrugged some of the burden off on him, even though I know I truly didn't. He can't see or communicate with them. I get why Gram was pleased to have me aboard the ghost train, so to speak.”

“So to speak.” Jake smiled patiently. He didn't need to tell me that I was speaking a little too quickly or with too high a pitch.

I cleared my throat. “I think I'm going to go home and get some rest.”

“Good plan. Me too.” Jake pushed the power button on his
computer.

The good news was that Cliff was on his way over at some point. The bad news, it turned out, was that Cliff was on his way over at some point. He wouldn't be too bothered by the person sitting on my front porch, but since he'd witnessed us kissing recently, it might put a crimp in the evening.

“Paul. Hi,” I said as I got out of the Nova. I parked on the street in front of my house more often than in the narrow driveway.

“Hey, Betts. Don't worry, I'm not going to attack,” he said. He tried to sound humorous, but it was easy to hear his embarrassment.

“I'm not worried. What's up? Have you been here long?”

“Not too long,” he said. “When you didn't answer the door, I wasn't sure if I should call you or not. I decided to just wait and see if you showed up. And here you are.”

“Here I am.” The last time I'd checked the clock on my
phone, it had been after ten. I didn't want to be rude and check it in front of Paul. Surely he realized how late it was.

I climbed the stairs and sat down next to him on the porch. I didn't want to invite him in and it didn't seem like something he expected. He smiled, not totally uncomfortably, in my direction and then scooted over a little to give me more room.

“I'm not here to throw myself at you, though I'd like to apologize one more time for the way I behaved. I'm sorry.”

“No need. All is well. What's up?” I asked again.

“I was wondering if you heard something the day before Derek was killed. We were all in the barn, and I wasn't sure if I heard it correctly. I wanted to talk to someone else to confirm before I went to the police. I trust you the most.”

“What do you think you heard?”

Paul nodded. “I have to set the stage a little. We were all there. It was Sunday but remember that Roy wanted to show us how he tightened the brakes. We needed to get a quick feel for them before we took out any tourists.”

“Yes, I remember,” I said, noting silently to myself that this was something I'd been thinking about earlier but hadn't been able to pinpoint. I knew that Roy had recently done
something
with the brakes, but I hadn't been able to remember exactly when. I was suddenly pretty sure these moments were what my mind had been searching for. Also, hadn't he dropped a wrench or two at the morning meeting at the cooking school? I was pretty sure he had, and then he'd seemed puzzled as he put them away. I decided I should mention those moments to Cliff. “In fact, I've thought about that day in case something happened that might be important, but I didn't remember anything.”

“I didn't at first either, and what I remember is pretty small but it keeps coming back to me now.”

“What?”

“Roy climbed up onto the first Trigger and was about to demonstrate for us, right?”

“Got it. I remember that now.”

“Just as he got up there, remember the clanging noise behind the Trigger? We all turned and Roy asked if everything was okay?”

“Sure, but it was all pretty quick.”

“Exactly. Well, then Todd stood up straight and said that he'd knocked a tool off the back end of the Trigger, but that he'd put it away in the toolbox when Roy was done with the demonstration.”

Honestly, I didn't remember that part well. I'd been next to Lynn and April and they were chatting about something; my focus was on them, though currently I couldn't remember what they'd been talking about either. And, really, Roy hadn't turned to see if everything was okay so much as just asked the question over his shoulder quickly and then moved on to the next step of the demonstration without waiting for an answer. There'd been no figurative spotlight on Todd as he stood back up and proclaimed that he had the tool. It had all just been a part of the moment, a small, blended part.

“That's a little murky to me,” I said.

“I know; me too. The other women were on your one side and I was on your other side. I was . . . well, my thoughts were distracted from the demonstration. But now that a few days have passed, that moment keeps coming back to me. Was that a wrench?”

“Even if it was, so what?” I said.

“What if Todd didn't put it back? What if it was the wrench that killed Derek and hurt you?”

“Even if it was, Todd probably did exactly what he said he did, and put it back later. Anyone could have grabbed it.”

“I know, but something else occurred to me, and I know it's as weak as the other parts of all this. But I wonder if Todd dropped the wrench instead of knocking it off the Trigger. Roy doesn't typically leave his tools lying around. There would have been no place for the wrench to be resting. I mean, Roy would never in a million years leave a tool just sitting out on a Trigger. He might leave one on a back work table, but chances are that he would put it away in his toolbox no matter when he thought he might need it again.”

Paul made some interesting points, but he was right; they were weak. Or, they were terribly insightful. I didn't for one minute think that Todd had killed anyone. Murder wasn't on his mind, love was. Unless he thought Derek was some sort of threat in the love department. Had Derek actually been on a date with April, not just asked her out? Stranger things had happened, five times, to be specific.

“I think you should tell Cliff. Or Jim,” I said.

“You do?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Good. Yeah, I just needed another opinion.”

“Sure.” I thought about telling him that Cliff would be over eventually, but I decided he could handle it on his own and not at my house.

If that was somehow rude, I was about to make myself look even ruder.

The smell of flowers was suddenly overwhelming. I liked flowers, but the scent this time was so strong that I was immediately nauseated and the first ping of a headache slammed at my temple.

It took only another few seconds to locate Grace. She was in the middle of the street, facedown and not moving.

“Well, gotta go, Paul. I'll talk to you later,” I said as I stood and then hurried inside the house.

I would apologize later maybe but for now I really needed him to go away.

I plopped my knees on the chair by the front window and peered out. Fortunately, Paul made a quick exit without any indication that he'd just been run from.

Once his car was out of sight, I ran back outside and to Grace. As I'd done so many times since the ghosts came into my life, I told myself: She's dead. There's nothing you can do for her.

Nevertheless, when you see someone facedown in the middle of the street, your first instinct is to try to help them, ghost or not.

“Grace,” I said as I crouched next to her, reached for her shoulder, and gently rolled her over. Even with the streetlights, it was dark enough that she was solid under my touch.

At first she didn't respond, but lay there, unmoving with her eyes closed.

“Grace,” I said as I shook her gently. I wished I knew what I was supposed to do. Leave her be, keep trying to get a response? Watch as unknowing drivers propelled their cars through the ghost they couldn't see?

“Grace, come on, wake up,” I said.

Finally, her eyelids started to flutter and a moan escaped her throat.

“Grace,” I said as I helped her sit up.

“Betts. That's your name, right? Betts?” she said.

“Yes,” I said. “We're in the middle of a road, which won't
hurt you, but it might be better to go somewhere where people can't see me out here talking to the air.”

“Yes,” she said after she blinked and seemed to remember that she was a ghost.

I helped her stand. After we both decided she wasn't too wobbly, we moved toward my house, climbed the stairs, and went inside. I hoped Cliff wouldn't show up right away.

“What's going on? Are you . . . do you feel pain?” I said as I sat her on the couch.

“No, not at all,” she said.

In tandem, both of us looked down at her dress. A huge circle of blood filled the area over her stomach.

Without even thinking, I reached forward and touched the spot. It felt nothing like blood. It wasn't wet or sticky or warm, it was part of the mostly solid figure that was Grace. I turned on a light in the kitchen, but kept the front room dark so I could still see her.

“It looks like something must have happened there.” She laughed.

“Maybe you were stabbed. That could have been how you were killed,” I said, my tone and words oddly clinical.

“Maybe,” she said. “It's difficult for me to consider that idea. Gruesome.”

“Do you remember anything from tonight, before you saw me?” I thought back to the article that Jake had found that mentioned the discovery of blood behind the depot. Was the wound on Grace's stomach representative of where it had come from?

Grace bit her lip. I was struck again by her beauty. I was surprised that every man that met her hadn't followed her to the ends of the earth.

Perhaps they had.

“Grace,” I interrupted her thoughts. “We've been focusing on Robert and another man named Justice Adams.”

She gasped. “I know that name. He was a very bad man. He hurt me.” She looked at the blood on her dress.

“Was he your killer?”

“It's very possible. He was . . . oh, dear, he was a scary man. He found me at the station, I believe, and wouldn't leave me alone. Yes, there's a good possibility that he killed me.”

“But you don't know for sure?”

“I'm afraid not. But tonight, Betts, I remember running from someone tonight. I was scared, but I don't think anything happened to me that could have caused this.” She pointed to the blood.

“Robert, then. Maybe he was your killer?” I said.

“I refuse to believe that. I loved him so much. He loved me; I'm certain of it.”

“Did you have a lot of men fall in love with you?” I asked.

For a moment she was caught off guard by the question, perhaps embarrassed.

“Grace, you were—are—absolutely gorgeous. I'm not just saying that. Why would I? But I can't imagine any man—and most women, frankly—not staring at you as you passed by. You are a classic beauty. And you are kind and gentle and sweet and intelligent. You seem like the whole package.”

“Goodness, well, thank you.”

“I'm not saying that to compliment you. I'm stating it as a fact that might help us solve your murder.”

“I see. Well, I suppose people noticed me. It was uncomfortable sometimes, but at other times, it was just what it was.
I was told many times that I was beautiful, I think, but white men weren't supposed to find me beautiful. White men weren't supposed to even look at me that way.”

There was no bitterness in her voice, and I was aware that she was doing what I'd done, stating a fact.

“This won't be easy because it would be hard to remember this stuff anyway, but think back to before you were killed. We've got Robert and Justice.” I didn't tell her that Gram had dreamt about them and that those dreams were violent and awful. I didn't want to plant the seeds if they ultimately weren't real. “Who else, Grace, who else?”

“My husband, perhaps, but I know I got out of town without him knowing. He would never have been able to find me.”

“He was cruel to you?”

“Yes. He was also a drinker, a big drinker, Betts. I filled him full of moonshine before I left town. I knew how he'd react. He'd pass out for a couple days, wake up mad as a bear that I was gone, get over it in a day or two, and find another woman to pester.”

I laughed even though she hadn't meant to be funny. “Grace, I'm sorry, but I expect that once a man found you, his standards might never be met again.”

“Trust me, Betts, my husband wasn't picky. Any woman would do. I can't believe I stayed with him as long as I did.”

“Nevertheless, I'll have Jake check him out.”

She nodded. I'd missed when the hole in her middle had filled in and the blood disappeared, but she was now back to the whole version of herself.

“Okay, you went to look for Robert. And I know Justice said he would meet you later that evening. Think about your search. You must not have found Robert, but what did you find?”

“I don't remember.”

I glanced out the window as a car pulled up behind the Nova.

“It's Cliff, my boyfriend,” I said to Grace.

“Yes. I'll be on my way. I'll work on remembering more, Betts. I'll try,” she said.

“All right,” I said. “Tomorrow. Let's try again tomorrow.”

I didn't want to interrupt our conversation but there was no way we could continue with Cliff in the house. And, truthfully, I was really happy to see him and looked forward to a night with just the two of us humans.

Thankfully, that's exactly what I
got.