Kansas Troubles

Table of Contents

 

 

“A TERRIFIC WHODUNIT! The dialogue is intelligent and witty, the characters intensely human, and the tantalizing puzzle keeps the pages turning.”

—Jean Hager, author of
The Redbird’s Cry
and
Blooming Murder

 

“A BLUE-RIBBON COZY . . . This well-textured sequel to
Fool’s Puzzle
. . . intricately blends social history and modern mystery.”

—
Publishers Weekly

 

“CHARMING, BEGUILING, AND ENTRANCING . . .
Irish Chain
is a total joy.”

—Jackson (MS)
Clarion-Ledger

 

“THE CHARACTERS ARE TERRIFIC . . . the dialogue is amusing, and the plot is different and interesting. GRADE: A+.’ ’

—
The Poisoned Pen

 

“A DELIGHTFUL AND WITTY MYSTERY full of endearing characters. It offers insights into quilts . . . folk art, and historical events that add depth to its multi-layered story.”

—
Gothic Journal

 

“KEEPS YOU INTERESTED AND GUESSING UNTIL THE END.’ ’

—
Mystery News

 

 

 

 

“BREEZY, HUMOROUS DIALOGUE OF THE FIRST ORDER . . . Quilt patterns provide a real and metaphorical background as a reader absorbs the names for different styles.”

—
Chicago Sun-Times

 

“I LOVED
FOOL’S PUZZLE
. . . [Earlene Fowler] made me laugh out loud on one page and brought tears to my eyes the next . . . I can’t wait to read more.”

—Margaret Maron, Edgar Award-winning author of
Bootlegger’s Daughter

 

“A CRACKERJACK DEBUT.”

—
I Love a Mystery

 

“A RIPPING READ. It’s smart, vigorous, and more than funny: Within its humor is wrenching insight.”

—Noreen Ayres, author of
A World the Color of Salt

 

“I THOROUGHLY ENJOYED
FOOL’S PUZZLE
. . . Fowler’s characters are terrific . . . a super job.”

—Eve K. Sandstrom, author of
The Devil Down Home

 

“A NEAT LITTLE MYSTERY . . . her plot is compelling.”

—
Booklist

“LIVELY . . . More Benni mysteries are in the works and will be welcomed.”

—
The Drood Review of Mystery

 

“A GREAT BEGINNING OF A NEW SERIES. The characters are charming and their interactions lively.”

CAT CALIBAN MYSTERIES:
She was married for thirty-eight years. Raised three kids. Compared to that, tracking down killers is easy . . .

 

by D. B. Borton
ONE FOR THE MONEY
THREE IS A CROWD
FIVE ALARM FIRE
TWO POINTS FOR MURDER
FOUR ELEMENTS OF MURDER

 

ELENA JARVIS MYSTERIES:
There are some pretty bizarre crimes deep in the heart of Texas—and a pretty gutsy police detective who rounds up the unusual suspects . . .

by Nancy Herndon
ACID BATH
LETHAL STATUES
WIDOW’S WATCH

 

FREDDIE O’NEAL, P.I., MYSTERIES:
You can bet that this appealing Reno private investigator will get her man . . . “A winner.” —Linda Grant

by Catherine Dain
LAY IT ON THE LINE
WALK A CROOKED MILE
BET AGAINST THE HOUSE
SING A SONG OF DEATH
LAMENT FOR A DEAD COWBOY
THE LUCK OF THE DRAW

 

BENNI HARPER MYSTERIES:
Meet Benni Harper—a quilter and folk-art expert with an eye for murderous designs . . .

by Earlene Fowler
FOOL’S PUZZLE
KANSAS TROUBLES
IRISH CHAIN
GOOSE IN THE POND (
coming to hardcover May 1997
)

 

HANNAH BARLOW MYSTERIES:
For ex-cop and law student Hannah Barlow, justice isn’t just a word in a textbook. Sometimes, it’s a matter of life and death . . .

by Carroll Lachnit
MURDER IN BRIEF
A BLESSED DEATH

KANSAS TROUBLES

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / Published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

 

All Rights reserved.

Copyright © 1996 by Earlene Fowler.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is
http://www.penguinputnam.com

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-50026-2

 

Berkley Prime Crime Books are published
by the Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks
belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

 

 

 

 

Gratitude and humble thanks to:

 

God, the only true Creator. All I have is from You;

Mary Atkinson and Ann Lee, insightful readers, faithful friends;

Deborah Schneider, simply the best agent in the world;

Judith Palais, an editor with enthusiasm, talent, and a wonderful sense of humor;

Joyce Goldberg and all the other great people at Berkley, thanks for your hard work;

Darrell and Joyce Albright of Pretty Prairie, Kansas, for their hospitality, friendship, and for rendering help whenever asked;

Mary Lou Wright of Lawrence, Kansas, for her generous hospitality and support;

Stephanie Harris (and Barbie and Tony), superior horsewoman, instructor, and generous dispenser of equine information;

Chief Delbert Fowler and Officer Larry Hudson of the Derby Police Department, for assistance above and beyond the call of duty;

Debra Jackson, Laurie Fowler, Tom and Bonnie Fowler, Renea Frazier, and Gail Rose, for help in their particular areas of expertise (I’ll always remember the escalator, Laurie);

Earl Worley, my father, and Retha Fowler, my mother-in-law, for their love and support;

Mary Arnell Worley, my mother, and Clarence Fowler, my father-in-law, for what they gave me while they were here on earth;

And always, to my husband, Allen. As far as I’m concerned, he can rope the moon.

If you check a map of Kansas, you’ll find that the towns of Derby and Pretty Prairie really do exist. They are both wonderful towns full of friendly, law-abiding citizens. The crime rate in both communities is extremely low. I want to thank the citizens of both towns for good-naturedly letting me use their place of residence for my creative purposes. Miller is based on a real town in Kansas, but I chose to fictionalize it out of respect for the privacy of the Amish who live there. I made every attempt to write about Kansas as accurately as possible and especially appreciate the help I received from all my new friends there. All characters in this novel are created strictly from my imagination and are not based on any real people. Any errors are, of course, my own.

Variations of the Kansas Troubles quilt pattern have been traced back to the early 1800’s, and it was officially recognized by the Ladies Art Company in the latter part of the nineteenth century. An agitating pattern consisting of small and large triangles resembling bear claws, “Kansas Troubles” evokes the image of rapidly spinning windmill blades or the twirling center of a tornado. The pattern, all sharp points and angles, will not produce a calming effect no matter what color fabric is used. In all, Kansas Troubles has over twenty-five variations. Some of the more popular ones are called Indian Trails, Climbing Rose, Bear’s Paw, Little Lost Ship, Rocky Road to Kansas, Slave Chain, and Endless Tears.

KANSAS. LAND OF sunflowers, golden wheat fields, occasional roads of brick (though none yellow as far as I could see), and the more-than-occasional tornado. Tornados were specifically on my mind that sunny but cool California Central Coast Saturday morning in July, since I’d just awakened from a dream featuring one. It was a large, menacing dust devil with blue-gray eyes at its widest part. Eyes that followed my every move like those crazy Mona Lisa paintings in slapstick horror movies.

The bed sagged on one side. A large hand enveloped my shoulder and gently shook it. I woke up and stared into eyes the same steel-blue as those in my dream. They gazed back at me in concern.

“Benni, sweetheart, are you okay?” Gabe asked. “You were whimpering in your sleep.”

“What color did you say your mom’s eyes were?” I asked, blinking rapidly.

“Kind of grayish-blue. Like mine. Why?”

“No reason.” I didn’t believe in prophetic dreams. Really I didn’t. As he nuzzled my neck with his scratchy mustache, I tried to forget the image and just enjoy his warm lips tracing my collarbone. He was slightly damp and smelled of soap. I groaned inwardly. That meant a cold shower was somewhere in my immediate future. The hot water tank in my tiny Spanish-style house was more than adequate for one person. Two, if they took a reasonable length of time in the shower. Which he didn’t. After a little over four months into this second marriage, the shortcomings of a shared domestic life were beginning to come back to me.

“He says you can even use the eyelashes,” I yelled ten minutes later over the cascade of tepid water in the shower. I twisted the hot water spigot as far as it would go. My skin took on that always lovely plucked-poultry look.

“What?” Gabe yelled back.

I stuck my head out from behind the shower curtain and repeated my comment. He stood nude in front of the oak-framed bathroom mirror, the lower half of his olive face covered with snowy white shaving cream. I studied him in the mirror’s reflection, relishing the domestically sensuous picture of a man shaving. His thick black mustache was tipped white like frosting on a chocolate cake. My eyes wandered down the back of the dense, hard muscles of his runner’s thighs, pausing briefly on the pale spider-web scar on his left hip. A scar he refused to discuss the first time I noticed it. I repeated my eyelash comment.

He glanced at me in the mirror, his serious, deep-set eyes crinkling in amusement. “Keep staring, and I’ll be joining you in there. Now, whose eyelashes are we discussing?”