Jerry didn’t make me show him where the body was; he found the spot from my description. After about twenty minutes, Chief Hogan Jones came over to my van, leaned on my door, and told me the sheriff said I could go home.
“We know where to find you, Lee,” he said. “It’s probably an accident anyway. We’ll have to shift all those pumpkins before we know anything. What were you doing out here?”
I couldn’t think of a good lie, so I told the truth. “I was trying to find out something about Aubrey Andrews Armstrong and his company. There was nothing on the Internet. I thought maybe I was spelling his name wrong, and since Silas Snow had mentioned having a business card . . .”
The chief shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m worried about Aunt Nettie.”
“Then you’d better get home and be there when Armstrong brings her home.”
He asked Jerry Cherry to follow me home. I assured him this wasn’t necessary, but I was glad when he insisted.
As soon as I had gone into the house and had waved Jerry off, I discovered I was starving. Nerves, I guess. I had my head in the refrigerator checking the egg and English muffin situation when I heard another vehicle driving up. I wasn’t mentally ready for Aunt Nettie and Aubrey, so I was glad when a glance out the side window showed me Joe’s pickup. In fact, it was just plain good to see Joe, even though we had parted on bad terms.
I met him at the back door. “Do we have to settle the plans for the rest of our lives tonight?”
He smiled. He did have a wonderful smile. “Nope. Figuring out the rest of our lives is way too serious a subject for right now. How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay. I guess the chief called you.”
“He thought you might want some company.”
“I could sure use a hug.”
Joe obliged. “Have you eaten? I could take you out.”
“No, thanks. I want to be here when Aunt Nettie gets home.”
Joe frowned, but he didn’t say anything.
“She
asked
me to be here, Joe. I was going to scramble myself some eggs. Do you want some?”
He gestured at the eggs and muffins on the cabinet. “I’ve had dinner, but I might have an English muffin and some of Nettie’s peach jam.”
“Preserves, you mean.”
“Jam,” he said. “And maybe sprinkle some pee-cans on top.”
Joe and I carry on a joking argument about the proper names of items that are labeled differently in Texas and in Michigan, such as “preserves” versus “jam” and “pecahns” versus “pee-cans.” He carries groceries home in a “bag,” and I use a “sack.” I’ll let him settle the “Michigander” versus “Michiganian” controversy.
Joe split and buttered the muffins, then set the table with one place at the head and one on the side. I put on a large pot of coffee so Aunt Nettie could offer Aubrey some if she wanted to, then I scrambled eggs. Two of us moving around made Aunt Nettie’s 1910 kitchen even narrower than it really is, but it was comforting to be doing homey things like scrambling eggs and toasting muffins and bumping rearends.
We didn’t talk any more until we were sitting at the table in the dining room, and we kept the conversation light while we ate. I’d just finished rinsing the dishes when I heard an engine. Headlights flashed by the windows, and an SUV parked in the driveway. Our outdoor lights were on, so I saw Aubrey get out and go around to open the door for Aunt Nettie. Then he popped the rear end of the SUV and brought out Monte on his leash. The pup scrambled around in the bushes, undoubtedly giving them a good sprinkling, while Aunt Nettie and Aubrey stood talking. I couldn’t make out words, but both of them sounded cheerful. Apparently the evening had gone well. I surprised myself by feeling pleased.
Joe and I retired to the living room, since the dining room overlooks the back door, and the back door is the one everyone usually uses. We didn’t know if Aunt Nettie would want to say good-bye to Aubrey there.
But Aubrey came in with her. I heard their voices in the kitchen, then Aunt Nettie called out. “Hello! Do I smell coffee?”
“It may not be as good as the Warner River Lodge’s,” I said, “but it’s there.”
Monte frisked into the living room, pulling Aubrey along. Aubrey took the pup off his leash, and once again Monte bounced against my knees, then went to Joe. Joe greeted him, and Monte turned over, obviously ready to have his stomach scratched. He playfully kicked Joe with all four feet as Joe obeyed.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?” Joe asked the pup. “Or did you go along?”
“He went, but stayed in the SUV,” Aubrey said.
“I don’t like to leave him in the kennel too long, though he’s patient. But Nettie invited him in.”
“There’s nothing here a dog can hurt,” Aunt Nettie said. I saw that she had put on a dressy blue pants suit. I don’t think I’ve seen Aunt Nettie in a dress since Uncle Phil’s funeral.
“I’m going to have a cup of coffee,” she said. “Aubrey? Will you have one?”
“Yes, please.” Aubrey beamed at her, then turned back to Joe and me as she went to the kitchen. “The restaurant is delightful. Wonderful food! The Lodge might be a great place to house part of our cast—if we’re able to shoot here. Did you two have a pleasant evening?”
The question summoned up a mental picture of Silas Snow’s boot sticking out from under that heap of pumpkins. I must have turned green, because Joe quit playing with the dog and reached for my hand. “Lee had a bad experience,” he said. “We’ll tell you about it after Nettie comes in.”
Aubrey told Monte to stay, and the puppy lay down calmly. My nerves, however, began to jump wildly. I had just realized that I was going to have to explain the reason I’d gone out to Silas Snow’s fruit stand, and I was going to have to explain it right in front of Aubrey.
Yikes! The truth might have done for Chief Jones, but it wasn’t going to work now. It would not be tactful to tell Aubrey I’d been spying on him. What was I going to say?
Joe and Aubrey were chitchatting, and I was thinking madly. When Aunt Nettie brought in a tray with two cups of coffee and a dish of bonbons and truffles, I was ready. I don’t like to lie, but I sure can sidestep.
“I’m on the Halloween Parade committee,” I said, “and we have to round up a lot of punchers. I mean, pumpkins! So after I finished up at the office, I went out to Silas Snow’s place. He’s got loads of pumpkins.” I turned to Aubrey. “The parade is a Chamber of Commerce function, and I’m on the body. I mean, the board! I’m on the chamber’s board.”
I stumbled on, telling about finding the hand and the foot sticking out from under the pumpkins. “It must have been Silas.”
Aubrey’s face screwed into a look of incredulous horror. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
“Pretty sure,” I said. I didn’t describe the feel of his hand. “Of course, it might not be Mr. Snow. I couldn’t see his face.”
Aunt Nettie was looking concerned. “My goodness, Aubrey. Silas Snow is Maia’s uncle.”
Aubrey’s eyes popped. “Not the one who owns the farm where
Love Leads the Way
happened?”
We all nodded.
“My God!” Aubrey appeared genuinely shocked. “Maia and I were out there this morning.”
“Silas was angry with Maia. They had a big argument at the Rinkydink,” I said.
Aubrey nodded solemnly. “She told me he was eccentric, warned me he might refuse to let us use the property.”
“I’m surprised he let you on the place at all,” Joe said.
“I guess Maia didn’t ask permission. We didn’t go to his house. We dropped by the fruit stand as we were leaving, but Maia said since his truck was gone, he must not be there. Maia drove us over there by some back road.”
Joe nodded. “Maia probably knows every inch of the property, since it belonged to her grandparents. Besides, the place adjoins Ensminger’s Orchards, where she and Vernon live.”
“Did Maia marry the boy next door?” I asked.
Aunt Nettie shook her head. “No, both farms originally belonged to Mae’s grandfather. Mae’s mother died young, while her father was still alive, so Mae inherited that half of the family holdings. Luckily, Vernon was interested in farming it, so they just built a house and moved there.”
“Does Silas have children?”
“I’m sure he never married.”
“No children to speak of,” Aubrey said. He chuckled. Joe and I smiled politely. Aunt Nettie looked puzzled, as if she didn’t get the joke. It occurred to me that she was putting on an act; Aunt Nettie may look like a sweet, innocent lady, but she knows what’s going on in the world, and I was sure she had caught Aubrey’s feeble joke. I wondered what she was up to.
“Silas terrorized Warner Pier kids for fifty years,” Joe said. “Not that we didn’t deserve it.”
“Why was that?” Aubrey asked.
“Snow’s orchards were the equivalent of the local haunted house. The legend about the buried bank loot has been around since my mom was a girl—actually a lot longer. We always dared each other to go out there and dig for treasure. Then Silas would chase us off.”
“He was threatening to get out his shotgun this afternoon,” I said.
Aubrey’s eyes got big. “I guess we were lucky to get off the place in one piece.”
“I doubt he would have shot at Maia,” Joe said.
“He might have if he’d known that—” Aubrey stopped talking in the middle of his sentence and took a drink of his coffee. We all stared at him, but he didn’t seem to be planning to say any more.
“Known what?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” Aubrey answered in a way that made it obvious “nothing” meant “something.”
I started to ask again, but Joe crossed his legs and managed to nudge my ankle in the process. His hint was pretty clear, though I didn’t understand why he didn’t want me to quiz Aubrey.
Aubrey turned his charm on Aunt Nettie. “Wonderful coffee and wonderful chocolates,” he said. He pointed to the plate she’d brought out, almost touching a milk chocolate truffle. His effort to change the subject was transparent. “Now what’s this one?”
“Coffee,” Aunt Nettie answered. “A truffle covered and filled with milk chocolate that’s been flavored with Caribbean coffee. The dark chocolate truffle next to it is Dutch caramel. According to our sales sheet, it’s ‘creamy, European-style caramel in dark chocolate.’ It’s a soft caramel—not like Kraft’s.”
Aubrey was looking entirely too innocent. “Do you ever make any peach or apple flavored chocolates?” he said. “TenHuis Chocolade is in the center of fruit country—or so I judge by my trip to Snow’s farm and Ensminger Orchards.”
“We make chocolates flavored with strawberry and raspberries,” Aunt Nettie said. “I’ve never come up with anything mixing chocolate and apple that I thought was very tasty. And chocolate seems to overwhelm peach flavor.”
“Maia mentioned that you do dipped fruits.”
“Yes, but not peaches or apples.”
Joe jumped back in the conversation. “How was Maia tonight? Still artsy?”
Aubrey frowned. “She was rather quiet.”
“She was Mae tonight,” Aunt Nettie said. “Really, it was a very nice evening. You’re a perfect host, Aubrey, and Maia was quite her old self. You must have tired her out trotting around Snow’s orchards.”
“Did you take Monte out to Snow’s?” Joe’s voice was extremely casual.
“Yes. Of course, I had to keep him on his leash, but he enjoyed running around and doing a bit of digging. He—” Aubrey’s voice came to an abrupt halt for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I promised Maia I wouldn’t say anything.”
We were back to what Aubrey and Maia had found at Snow’s place. And I had the idea that Aubrey wanted us to ask about it, whether Joe thought we should or not.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. What did you and Maia find?”
Aubrey grinned. “Haven’t you guessed?”
I hesitated, but Joe spoke up. “Buried treasure?”
“I’m afraid so.” Aubrey produced the big, beat-up wallet—the one Monte had handed me that afternoon—from an inside pocket of his jacket.
“Where was it?” Joe said.
“Right near the old house, the one Dennis Grundy stayed in.”
“Don’t tell me it was buried in an old mayonnaise jar,” Joe said.
Aubrey grinned. “I won’t tell you that if you don’t want me to, but it was. Actually an old fruit jar with a solid metal top. A cliché, I know. Maia kept the jar and most of the money.”
Aubrey laid the wallet and the big bills out on the coffee table, and we all bent over it.
So Aubrey and Maia had found some money that might be part of the legendary bank loot supposedly buried by Dennis Grundy. This was very interesting. It also raised a lot of questions.
“My goodness,” Aunt Nettie said. “That was a lucky find.”
Joe spoke mildly. “That was an amazing find. You say it was right near the ruins of the old cottage?”
Aubrey nodded, very deadpan.
Joe grinned. “I could have sworn that—during the summer I was twelve—I dug over every square foot of the lot where that house is.”
Aubrey grinned back and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Maia and I were lucky. Of course, we had Monte to guide us. But it almost looked as if one of us knew right where to dig.”
I interpreted this as meaning he thought Maia had buried the money herself.
Why? Why would she do that? Why would Maia bother to get hold of some of the old money, then bury it? She would have had to go to a coin and money collector or dealer for the money, then buy an old wallet. And an old canning jar.
I had to admit all those things would be easy to find in a casual crawl of Warner Pier antique shops. The money might be a little hard to locate, but the canning jar would be a cinch, and the old wallet wouldn’t be too hard. The easiest part of all would be burying the treasure. But why bother?
That was a good question. Or I thought it was until I thought of a better one. I asked it. “Aubrey, what attracts you to Maia’s novel? I mean, why make it into a film?”