“Thanks, I’ll be glad to have that.”
“Let’s get it into your car before we all get comfortable. It’s in the barn. Maybe you could back right up to it and we could lift it in.”
Margaret looked at Claire. “Is it okay?”
“Sure, I’m here to help.”
Margaret and Patty Jo walked out to the barn, and Claire backed the squad car up to it. The trunk was old, made of a blond wood with beautiful scrollwork on it and the words
Stockholm, Wisc.
written on it. It was a tall trunk that narrowed at the base and was lighter than it looked. The two leather handles on the sides were in good shape. The three women were able to load it into the trunk of the car. By tipping it on its side, they could make the trunk lid close over it.
As they walked back to the house, Margaret said to Patty Jo, “I can’t believe you would think about selling the farm. I wish you had talked it over with me.”
Patty Jo pursed her pink lips, then said, “I didn’t want to bother you, Margaret. I know you and Mark have a full plate.”
“It would have been no bother. If you’re having trouble keeping this place up, Mark and I can help out.”
“Margaret, you have your own life. Your father’s illness has been a terrible blow to us all. Your father left me in charge, and I think it’s time the farm is sold.” Patty Jo’s voice broke. “You know he’ll never be able to come back here. I’ve got a very good offer for it. We will need that money to keep your father in the home.”
They walked back into the porch, and this time Patty Jo offered them chairs. They all sat down. Even though the two women were being civil to each other, Claire could feel the tension.
“What about his stocks and bonds? What about his money market?” Margaret asked.
From the look on Patty Jo’s face, Claire guessed that she hadn’t thought Margaret knew about those assets.
“How much time have you been spending at the casino?” Margaret pushed her stepmother.
“None of your business.” Patty Jo’s voice grew louder. “You have to face facts, Margaret. Your father will need constant care the rest of his life. I can’t manage the farm, and neither can you.”
“But I think we can manage it. Mark and I had always thought the farm would come to us. We had planned on it. It’s in Dad’s will.”
“Well, that was a big mistake. Things happen. You should never have counted on the farm.”
“Maybe if we sat down and went over everything we could figure out a way of keeping it,” Margaret said hopefully.
Patty Jo shook her head. “I’m afraid not, dear. There’s simply no other way.”
“What about his insurance?”
“Doesn’t come close to covering it.”
Margaret drew herself up. “I would like to go over all Dad’s assets with you and see exactly where we stand.”
“You don’t need to worry about this. It’s not your problem. I’ve had someone I trust go over everything.”
“I think I have a say.”
“Margaret, I’m your father’s wife. I think you know I do not need your permission to do what I want to do.” Patty Jo paused and then announced, “You do understand that your father signed over power of attorney to me. Durable power of attorney. That means that I have the right to do anything I want with our assets.”
“Well, that’s why I called the sheriff’s department. I don’t want you to sell the farm. I don’t think you are taking care of my father’s best interests.”
“Margaret, how can you say that? Your father would not be happy with you.”
Margaret snapped, “My father loves me. He was always happy with me until you came along. Now he’s worried sick about the farm.”
Patty Jo stared at her. “How do you know what your father’s worried about?”
Margaret said, “Because he told me.”
“That’s impossible.”
“He can write things down.”
Patty Jo shook her head as if flies were bothering her. “He can?”
“He tries,” Margaret explained, then added, “I won’t let you sell this farm. I’ll get a court order stopping you.”
“I’m sorry, Margaret, but I will do what I think best. You try for your court order if you must, but I know they will listen to me. I’m his wife.”
Margaret stood up and said, “Well, I’m his daughter. I’ve loved him a lot longer than you.” Then she slammed out the door, leaving Claire standing on the porch.
Patty Jo turned to Claire. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. Margaret is a little unstable. She and her father had a falling-out not long before his stroke. I don’t think she’s forgiven herself. I know this is hard for her. I’d hate for her to take this to court. It would be a terrible waste of money.”
Claire found Margaret sitting in the front seat of the squad car, clutching at her dress, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t mind me. I cry all the time. It’s the change. You know.”
“Menopause?”
“Perimenopause, that’s what my doctor calls it. That’s when all the hard stuff happens. I get real sensitive and cry at any little thing.”
“Your father’s stroke is no little thing,” Claire said as she started the car. “Especially if you had a falling-out right before he got sick.”
Margaret sat very still. “Is that what she said?”
“Isn’t it true?”
“No. My father and I always got along. Until Patty Jo . . .”
Claire didn’t know what to think. She started the car and headed down the driveway.
Margaret turned to her and asked, “So what do I have to do to stop her? Take her to court?”
Claire didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Let me talk to the county attorney.”
“Would you?” Margaret’s voice lifted. “I’m sure my father doesn’t want her to sell the farm. I’m supposed to inherit it.”
“If he can write, can you get him to write down what he wants to do?”
“I could try.”
CHAPTER 4
You have to let me pay rent, just like anyone else.” Bridget had known Claire might pull this on her, telling her she could stay in the house for next to nothing. It was the day after she had asked Claire if she could rent her house, and Claire was giving her the grand tour. Bridget set Rachel’s car seat down on the floor in the living room of the old house.
Claire turned in a circle in the nearly empty room. “You don’t even know how long you’ll stay.”
“Claire, this is really happening. Chuck and I are breaking up. Rachel and I will not live with him again.”
Claire sat down in one of the chairs she had left at her house. Bridget watched her stare at the windows. Claire ran her finger across one, and it left a clean streak. “How did it happen?”
Bridget looked at her darling daughter, Rachel, and then said what she had just recently figured out. “Chuck wanted to be an only child.”
Claire lifted her head to look at Bridget, and then a small laugh burst out of her. “You’re terrible.”
That set Bridget off. She started laughing, and Rachel joined in, clapping her hands at the good joke. Bridget collapsed on the floor next to her baby and laughed until she was exhausted.
Claire looked at her. “What are you going to do?”
Bridget rolled over onto her back and stared up at the beadboard ceiling. She loved this old house. It would be a pleasure to live in it. “First, find a good babysitter. Move into this house. Cut back my hours at work. Get ready for winter.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“I want to chop up a whole cord of wood. I think that would be a good way for me to work out my anger. I’ll move my horse into the field.”
Claire sat on the floor next to her and Rachel. “I still don’t understand. Where did Chuck go?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more as it was happening, but it was just too hard. He just went away. Started staying out later and later, and then not even coming home.”
“Another woman?”
“I hope so. That way he won’t be so apt to come running back to me.”
“How’re you feeling?”
“Glad Mom and Dad aren’t alive to see this. Isn’t that funny? I think it would be harder for me to get a divorce if they were still around.”
“I understand.” Claire looked at Bridget. “A divorce?”
Bridget decided not to tell her she had already started to check out lawyers. She needed to break things to Claire slowly. “I think we’re headed that way.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
Bridget pulled Rachel out of her car seat and had her stand up. “That’s what you have to stop doing—you have to stop worrying about me. It’s not your duty, even if you are my big sister.”
“I’ll try.”
“Now, Rachel has something she wants to show you. Hold out your arms.” Bridget aimed Rachel in Claire’s direction and let go of her hands. One sturdy foot in front of another, Rachel stepped across the floor to her aunt’s waiting arms.
“Wow!” Claire hoisted Rachel up in the air. “You’re amazing. I think you beat out Meg by about a month. She didn’t start to walk until she was nearly fourteen months.”
“I think crawling frustrated Rachel—simply not fast enough.”
“Not much of a view either.” Claire looked around at the house. “I can get in here and give it a good cleaning.”
“Let’s hire someone. You don’t have the time and neither do I.”
“When are you planning on moving in?”
“Within the week. I’m ready.”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you. We’ve got company at our house.”
“Who?”
“His name is Harvey.”
Bridget felt her heart stir. “Is he as cute as Rich?”
“Cuter.”
What Claire would always remember about the Reiner house was its front entrance. Where most houses in Pepin County were thought to be the bee’s knees if they had a mudroom for your boots, the entrance to the Reiner estate was more like the lobby of a grand hotel. It seemed especially incongruous after driving down a winding dirt road that meandered around cornfields and over trout streams. The neighboring houses were old white farmhouses. One already had bales of hay tucked up against the foundation as additional insulation against the coming winter. The Reiner house looked as though it belonged in Edina, the richest suburb of the Twin Cities, not in the depths of this rural county.
After Mrs. Reiner let her in, the first thing to greet Claire was a bronze statue of Hiawatha, much larger than either woman. Two landscapes of the Mississippi River hung on each side of the statue. The landscapes were old and lovely, with a quaint, romantic air. Other than the somber colors of the landscapes, the entrance was done in white: glass chandelier in the middle of the room, white marble floors with white walls that went up two stories. No dirt ever dared cross the threshold, Claire figured.
Mrs. Reiner looked out of place in this museum of a room. She was dressed like a normal suburban housewife in jeans and a big sweatshirt that said
Minnesota Twins
on it. Dark brown hair in a bob and moccasins on her feet. A pretty woman in a bouncy sort of way. Claire figured she was probably in her late thirties. Claire explained who she was and why she was there.
“I’m Candy. Come on in. Daniel’s anxious to talk to you. He’s on the phone. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
She led Claire into the living room and offered her a seat on a couch that was so white Claire automatically swiped at her pants seat before she sat down.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“I didn’t know they had women cops down here.”
“Well, we’re a little behind the times, but we’re trying to catch up.”
“I’ll try to wrench Dan away from the phone.”
“Great.”
The room that Claire was left sitting in was bigger than the main floor of Rich’s house. She had to admit that someone had a sense of quirkiness. Above the mantel of the floor-to-ceiling two-story limestone fireplace was an old wagon wheel. It looked genuine, showing the wear of several decades.
“Where’d the wheel come from?” Claire asked when Candy came back.
“We found that in the back of the barn when we were tearing it down. Dan wanted it on the mantel. I told him it could stay there until I found the right piece of art. But I’ve grown fond of it. The old place . . . you just gotta love the history of a place like this.”
Claire wondered why, if they loved the history so much, they had so completely destroyed it.
“He should be with you in a moment. I hope you don’t mind if I leave you alone. We’re getting ready to go back to the Cities.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll just catch up on
Architectural Digest.
”
The woman gave a quick laugh, then left the room.
Claire picked up a magazine and was looking at apartments on Central Park with leather and chrome interiors when Daniel Reiner came in the room. He was a short, stocky man with a shock of tawny hair that made him look like a beaver, and one that, at the moment, wanted to chew on something.
She stood up and told him who she was and that his elk was boarding at her house.
“So you’re a deputy and our animal happened to wander over to your house. How convenient.”
Claire wasn’t sure if he was kidding. Then he smiled.
“That’s right.”
“And you’re the one who’s going to find out who did this?” Reiner asked.
“That’s my job,” Claire assured him. “Would you like to know how Harvey is doing?”
“Harvey?”
“Oh. I thought that was his name.”
“You’re probably right. I’m not on a first-name basis with him. My caretaker is in charge of the herd. Do you know how much that animal is worth?”
“No, sir.” Claire was curious.
“The going rate for a bull elk his size is about fifty thousand dollars.”
Claire nodded. No surprise that money was important to this man. “I wonder why someone shot him. They wouldn’t be able to get fifty thousand dollars for him when he was dead.”
“It’s senseless.”
“Do you have any enemies down here?”
“No, we don’t even know anybody.”
Claire realized the guy had no idea how much animosity he had stirred up in the farm country around his estate. “What about the men who worked on your house? Any trouble there?”
“Oh, no. I’m still working with most of them. We brought them all down from the Cities.”
That wasn’t such a good idea,
Claire thought. Bringing in more-expensive labor from the Cities when there were contractors begging for work in Pepin County.
“I know you’ve been buying up a lot of land. Any chance this could be tied to one of your deals?”
“I doubt it. I’m offering over market value. Everyone seems real happy to work with me.”
“Well, I’ll keep checking into it. The vet said the elk could be moved anytime. The wound is superficial.”
“Why don’t you talk to the caretaker, Jim Bartlett? Set it up with him when he can come and get the animal. That’s what I pay him for. He can show you where the elk was when he was injured. What do I owe you for keeping the elk?”
“Not a thing. We’ve enjoyed having Harvey, once we knew he wasn’t going to die on us. The vet said she’d just send you the bill.”
Reiner pulled out his checkbook. “I insist on giving you a little something.”
Claire shook her head again. “Just being neighborly.”
“I hate to be in your debt.”
Claire looked at him, wondering. “Why is that so awful?”
“Just doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, if you’d like, you could bake us a cherry pie.”
Claire drove back down the long winding driveway to the caretaker’s house. She parked, and at the sound of her car, a stout tree trunk of a man came out of the garage. He wiped his hands on his jeans as he walked toward her.
Claire introduced herself and told him that Reiner had said she should talk to him.
The first words out of his mouth were what she had expected to hear from Reiner. “How’s the elk?”
“Good. The vet said he doesn’t have an infection in the wound and didn’t lose that much blood.”
“Scared the shit out of me.”
“What?”
“Come and see what I walked into.” He turned and led the way around the back of the garage and over to a pen. “We keep Harvey in here, separate from the females. Until he’s needed.”
“Not much fun for him.”
“I know. He gets everything he needs—food, shelter, even a harem. But not a lot of excitement, no reason to use his antlers.”
Claire looked into the enclosure and saw that the two trees that stood inside of it were rubbed barkless at about Harvey’s head height. “He’s been using them on the trees instead.”
“Yeah, it looks like it feels good. An itch satisfied.” Jim pointed. “I walked out to feed the herd and saw the fence line was broken. I can’t figure why they would cut the fence when they were going to shoot him.”
The strands of barbed wire flopped free, three strands cut through and hoof marks leading out of the pen.
“They also cut the wires into the fence that held the whole herd. When I first walked out, I saw the cut fence, I saw Harvey was gone, and then I saw the other fence was cut too. I couldn’t see the herd, so I wasn’t sure if they had discovered the break and taken off. I walked back over the hill and there they were, grazing. But Harvey was gone.”
“Any ideas who might have done this?”
“Not really. I’d say just some prank a kid would play, but there really aren’t that many kids around here.”
Claire looked at the big guy. “Anybody mad at you?”
“Oh, I suppose. But not mad enough to do this. And I don’t know how they think this would hurt me. Harvey’s not my elk.”
“You’d be blamed?”
“Is that what’s happening? Does Reiner think I did this?”
Claire hurried to reassure him. “I didn’t get that impression at all.”
“To tell you the truth, I think he’s getting a little bored with the elk. At first when he bought the herd, he’d come visit them most every time he was here. Now he hardly ever stops by, and he’s been complaining about their feed bills. Says the market has not been good to him. He’s no longer worth a hundred million, just seventy-five.”
Claire walked around and checked the barbed wire. Not much to see, but it was obvious the wires had been cut. The breaks were clean and right on top of one another, and the wires weren’t pulled away from the fence. “Did whoever did this leave anything here?”
“I didn’t find a thing. Not even a footprint. They were plenty careful.”
“When did it happen?”
“Must have been late Friday night, early Saturday morning.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“I was gone Friday night—didn’t get home till late and didn’t check on the animals before I went to bed. I had settled them before I went out. It wasn’t until Saturday morning that I noticed the elk was gone. I called Reiner, but he was up in the Cities. I was thinking of calling the sheriff when you called Mrs. Reiner and she called me.”
“All the other elk okay?”
“Yeah, I went out and counted heads right after the call. They all appear fine.”
Claire looked around. “Not everyone in this community is real happy about what Mr. Reiner is doing here. This whole setup. Buying up all this land.”
“Sure, people are jealous.”
“You think that’s all?”
A little anger showed in his face. “What do I know? It’s not my business to think about it. It’s just my job. A man’s gotta make a living.”
“Sure. I know.”
He looked at her, then reflected. “You know what’s weird, though? There’s no blood anywhere. Not in the pen, not outside the pen. You said it was dripping off his neck. Whoever shot him didn’t do it here.”
Walter couldn’t see very well anymore. He looked and looked out the window, but all he could make out were lumps of color floating in a sea of light. The lumps moved sometimes, and he followed them with his eyes—if he wasn’t sleeping. What he did was not really even sleeping; it was not being awake. When he went deep, sometimes it felt like not being alive.
A nurse came in and talked to him. “Hi, Walter. How’re you feeling?”
He could hear her words, he could even understand them. But he couldn’t make any words himself. When he tried, his tongue tripped him up, and the sounds that came out of his mouth were garbage. He had quit trying. He knew the words, but they didn’t travel through him the way they used to.