2 A Deadly Beef (20 page)

"Why
did you tell the sheriff that?" I asked Moose.

"Abel
might be in enough trouble without us adding to it.  If he’s telling
the truth and he didn’t start the fire, I didn’t want anyone to put
kidnapping on his shoulders.  Thanks for going along with it.  You
were a real trooper."

"I
was happy to do it," I said.  "If we get locked up for lying
to the police, maybe they’ll give us cells close enough together so we
can chat while we’re waiting for Rebecca to bail us out.  It might
help pass the time."

"We
could always play checkers if we get hoarse while we’re waiting,"
Moose added with a grin.

When
we got back to the truck, it took us less than four minutes to find the
keys.  "That was pretty crafty, throwing them where we could find
them," I said as we got in and Moose started the truck.

"I’m
just glad it worked."  He looked into the woods, and then asked me,
"Do you think Abel will be able to elude all of them?"

"I’m
guessing that he’s already holed up somewhere in the woods. 
I’m pretty sure that he’s safe enough just where he is."

"I
hope you’re right.  Despite the fact that the man was holding a gun
on us, I don’t want to see him go to jail."

"That
wasn’t much of a gun, was it?" I asked.  "I’m not
certain that it would have fired, even if it had been loaded.  Honestly, I
wasn’t too worried about it."

"That
mistake could have killed you, because you should have been scared to
death," Moose said.  "Abel might look like a nut, but he
relies on his gun.  There was no doubt in my mind that we were both in
real jeopardy."

"Then
I’m glad that ignorance is bliss," I said.  "I wonder
just what he meant about the things that were going on around here."

"I
don’t know," Moose said.  "Abel’s always had an
overactive imagination.  It might be something, or it could be one of his
conspiracy theories."

As my
grandfather drove us out of the woods and back onto the highway, I noticed that
he missed the turn to the diner altogether.  "Where are we
going?  I thought we were going back to The Charming Moose."

"We
are, eventually, but we have to make a couple of stops along the way
first," Moose said.

"What
did you have in mind?  Are we going someplace interesting?"

"Not
really," Moose said as he shook his head.  "The first thing
you need to do is go home, take a shower, and change your clothes.  While
you’re doing that, I’m going to go home and do the same thing
myself."

"But
I’m not even dirty," I told my grandfather in protest.

"Smell
your clothes, Victoria.  For that matter, you could probably just smell
your hair and know what I’m talking about."

I did
as my grandfather asked, and when I did, I was amazed by the smell of burning
plastic and wood in my hair and on my clothes.  "Are you telling me
that we got that much just from where we were standing?"

"I’ve
been around house fires before," Moose said as he nodded. 
"You might have to wash those clothes three or four times before
you’re able to get the smell out of them, and don’t be afraid to
use more shampoo than you think you need."

"Okay,
I will," I said as Moose pulled up in front of my house.  "Are
you coming back here for me after you get yourself cleaned up?"

"I
am.  I’ll pick you up in half an hour.  Does that give you
enough time to get yourself pretty?"

"I
don’t need
that
much time to do it," I said with a
grin.  "I’ll see you soon."

"You
can count on it.  I’ll be here before you know it."

I went
inside the house, stripped out of my smelly clothes, and then I got into the
shower.  Moose had been right.  I had to shampoo my hair twice to get
the smell out.  It was nice putting on fresh jeans and a clean shirt
afterward, and I collected my dirty clothes in a hamper and put the whole thing
out on the back porch in the cold weather.  I’d deal with that
particular mess later, but in the meantime, I didn’t want to smell up our
house.

Moose
was as good as his word about his return time.  I hadn’t been
outside waiting for him for more than two minutes before he drove up, his
windows all down despite the chill in the air.

As I
got in, I asked, "What happened?  Is the heater broken?"

"No,
but it smelled something awful in here when I got back in."  He
glanced over at me and smiled.  "You smell better now."

"So
do you," I said.  "I’m glad I took the time to dry my
hair."

"Me,
too," Moose said as he rubbed his hand over his short haircut. 
"Are you ready to head back to the diner now?"

"I
am, but I can’t help wondering if they caught Abel, can you?"

"The
more I think about it, I don’t think they have a prayer," Moose
said.  "I just hope they don’t waste too much time looking for
him.  After all, who’s left to guard the fair citizens of Jasper
Fork while they’re all out stumbling around in the woods?"

"We’ll
just have to hope there’s not a crime wave while they’re off on
their manhunt.  Is it just me, Moose, or is this case getting more
confusing by the second?  I feel like every step we take forward, we take
two backwards, do you?"

"And
things are rolling downhill faster than we can stop them.  Two of our main
suspects are leaving town soon, and there’s not a blessed thing we can do
to stop either one of them."

"Could
their departures be related?" I asked. 

"I
don’t see how," Moose said as he scowled a bit. 
"Jan’s got a good enough reason to cut out, and it sounds as though
Penny’s just had her fill of Jasper Fork.  Honest to goodness, I
never thought so many folks would have a reason to leave.  I’ve
lived here all my life, and I love this town."

"I’m
with you," I said, "but they must have their reasons."

"Or
they could just both be nuts," Moose said.

"True
enough."  I grabbed my grandfather’s arm suddenly and ordered,
"Moose, pull over."

"What’s
going on?" he asked as he did as I ordered.

We’d
been driving past the loading dock of Trudy’s Grocery, and I’d
spotted someone in back who appeared to be drinking from a brown paper
bag. 

As my
grandfather pulled in, I asked, "That’s Dave Evans, isn’t
it?"

"He’s
hitting the sauce pretty hard, isn’t he?" Moose asked as we got out
of the truck.

"Maybe
that’s a
good
thing for us.  If he’s all liquored up,
maybe he’ll be a little freer with his words," I said.

"I
suppose it’s possible, but don’t forget, he could be a mean drunk,
too.  Watch your step around him, Victoria."

"You
do the same," I said.

We
were a few feet away from Dave before he actually saw us.  When he did,
Dave looked startled as he dropped the bag in his hand.  It fell six feet
to the pavement, shattering inside the bag when it hit.  Liquid poured out
around it, and I could smell the strong scent of whiskey all around us. 
Well, at least it was better than what we’d smelled at the house fire
earlier.

"Now
look what you made me do," Dave said with a bit of a slur in his voice as
he stared down at the ruined bottle and its contents.

"Sorry
about that," Moose said without a hint of apology in his voice. 
"Maybe that was a sign that you need to slow down, or maybe even stop
altogether."

Dave
looked at him quizzically before he asked, "Ma, is that you?"

"Of
course it’s not, you fool," Moose snapped.  "Dave,
exactly how much have you had to drink?"

"That
is none of your business.  Don’t worry about it.  I’m not
that drunk; I know you aren’t my mother.  What I’m trying to
tell you is that she was the only one who ever had the right to tell me when I
had too much to drink."

"Fine,"
Moose said.  "You’re right.  It’s your business,
not ours.  We were just kind of wondering if you had a reason to be
drinking as much as you are.  You don’t have a guilty conscience, do
you, Dave?"

"What
would I have to feel guilty about?" he asked, his voice slurring more and
more by the minute.  "I’ve got nothing in the world to feel
bad about."  He pointed an unsteady finger at Moose as he asked,
"Can you say the same thing?"

My
grandfather just shrugged.  "Am I proud of everything I’ve
ever done in life?  Hardly, but I don’t need to hide in the bottom
of a bottle to get away from it, either."

"Well,
doesn’t that make you special," Dave said with a snap in his voice.

"Is
something wrong?" I asked the grocery store owner gently, trying to calm
him down a little.

Dave
shook his head, and then he put his face in his hands and started to sob
softly.  "You wouldn’t understand."

"Try
me," I said.

"It’s
no use.  It’s too late to fix any of it now," Dave said with a
heavy sigh as he stopped his tears.

"If
we can’t fix it completely, maybe we can still find a way to make things
right," I suggested.

"Like
I said, it’s too late," Dave said, and then he repeated, "Too
late."  After a few moments, he added out of the blue, "Poor
old Wally deserved better than he got, you know what I mean?"

"We
do," Moose said.

I
started to ask Dave what he meant, but Moose looked at me and held his finger
to his lips, asking for my silence.  Evidently I was supposed to give Dave
a little more rope. 

Maybe,
if we were lucky, he’d manage to hang himself with it.

Finally,
Moose asked him, "Who would do such a thing to good old Wally?  Do
you have any idea at all, Dave?"

"I’ve
got a clue," he said, and then giggled a little to himself. 
"A clue.  Ha ha ha.  That’s something old Wally never
had."

"What
kind of clue?" Moose asked softly.  "Do you know who might
have killed him?"

"What
a shame," Dave said, ignoring Moose’s question as he shook his head
sadly and kept repeating, "What a shame."  Finally, the store
owner leaned his back against the door behind him, and I watched in disbelief
as his eyes closed and he began to snore.

"Should
we wake him up?" I asked Moose softly.

"Do
you honestly think it would do us any good, even if we did manage to stir him
from his stupor?"

I
thought about it, and then I shook my head.  "You’re right,
there’s not a chance.  The man is drunk out of his mind."

"We
have to wonder what pushed him to this," Moose said as he stared down at
the man.  "Could it be a guilty conscience about Wally?"

"It
could be," I said, "or it may just mean that Dave’s
completely miserable with his life, and this is how he copes with it. 
Everything he just said might have just been some of the ramblings of a
drunk."

"Maybe,
but why would he bring Wally Bain up in the first place?"

"If
you’re asking me to explain the thought process of a man too drunk to
stay awake, you’re wasting your time."  I looked around, but
no one else was within sight.  "As much as I’d like to, we
can’t just leave him like this."

"I
don’t know why not," Moose said.  "He got himself in
this position.  It’s not like we poured the whiskey down his throat
against his will."

"You’re
right, but he still needs our help," I said.  "I just
don’t know how we might go about it."

"I
have an idea," Moose said.  He walked over to an empty bucket by the
garden hose, cleaned it out, and then filled it almost entirely with water.

"What
are you going to do with that?" I asked, but I was too late. 

Moose
dumped the entire contents of the bucket over Dave’s head.

It was
a great deal more effective than a slap in the face would have been, and it
managed to sober him quicker than a pot of coffee ever would have.

Dave
started sputtering as he wiped the water from his eyes with both hands,
struggling to come to grips with what had just happened to him. 

Finally,
he unsteadily stood up and stared at Moose, who was still holding the bucket in
his hands.  "Why did you do that?"

"I
wanted to kick you in the seat of the pants, but I didn’t think my
granddaughter would approve of that kind of behavior.  Now listen
carefully, because I’m going to ask you this once, and I want the
truth.  Dave, did you have anything to do with Wally’s
murder?"

"What? 
Of course not.  That’s ridiculous," Dave said.

"Obviously
I don’t think so, or I wouldn’t have asked," Moose
said.  "Do you have
any
idea who might have stabbed him in
the chest with a pitchfork?"

"I
have lots of thoughts, but I’m not about to share them with you. 
I’m soaked and it’s freezing out here," he said as he tried
to shake some of the water off himself.

"You
have no one to blame but yourself," Moose said.  "From now on,
if you’re going to insist on getting drunk, at least wait until you get
home so you can do it in private."

"No,
I don’t think I will," Dave said softly.

"You’re
not going to drink at home?" Moose asked.

"No,
I’ve decided not to get drunk anymore at all.  You’re right,
Moose.  I’m not solving anything by acting this way. 
It’s time for a big change in my life."

"You’re
not leaving town too, are you?" I asked.

He
looked genuinely surprised by my question.  "Of course not.  I
love this place, flaws and all.  Why would I ever want to leave it?"

"Everyone
else seems to want to go," I said.

"Like
who?"

"Jan
Bain and Penny Rusk, for starters," I said.

"I
can figure out why Jan would want to leave, but why Penny?"

"You’ll
have to ask her yourself," Moose said, "but I’d advise you to
get cleaned up first before you go talk to her."

"I
can do that," Dave said as he took out a damp handkerchief and tried to
wipe his face.  "I’m still not sure whether I owe you or not
for that bucket of cold water over my head."