Authors: Janis Harrison
Roots of Murder (20 page)
There was just the tiniest of response in her fingers.
“Wiggle your fingers again, honey.”
She obeyed. I smiled. With renewed strength, I lifted her out of the box and laid her on the floor. I was bending over her, rubbing her hands, when I heard the showroom door open.
Every muscle in my body tightened protectively. I huddled over Katie and waited.
The flashlight!
I'd left it on top of the casket. I looked up. The beam had seemed so minute before. Now it looked like a searchlight as it pierced the gloom.
The ceiling lights flashed on. Footsteps. I turned my head, knowing what I'd see. Sometimes it can be deadly to be so damned right.
Margaret stood fifteen feet away. The expression in her eyes was fearsome, the trocar in her hand a wicked weapon.
Slowly, I rose so I could face her. I said, “Not a big crowd tonight. I guess Mr. Engelhart outlived most of his friends.”
She ignored my distracting comments, waved the trocar at me. “Move.” She pointed to the embalming-room doors. “Through there. You know the way.”
“I really should pay my respects to Mr. Engelhart. We have a score to settle. I only concede round one.”
Margaret's lips curled with a nasty smile. “Don't worry, my dear, you'll have all of eternity to get even.”
In horror, I listened to her plans for me.
“ ⦠prick of a needle. A deep sleep,” she was saying. “The Engelharts don't want to see Clarence again. The casket will be sealed.” She raked me with a glance. “You're slim and trim. Your meddlesome body will tuck nicely in with his.”
Icy fingers of fear touched the nape of my neck.
Buried alive!
I'd rather be stabbed, leave a pool of blood on her carpet. Evidence of foul play. Something for Sid to see if he ever came.
Margaret advanced a step and brandished the trocar at me. “Move,” she ordered again.
“The sheriff will be here any minute.” I pretended to look at my watch, but I stole a glance at Katie, lying unconscious on the floor. I smiled at Margaret with what I hoped she'd take as confidence. “Yeah. Any minute,” I added for good measure.
“I doubt it. He called earlier and asked to speak to you. I told him I hadn't seen you.” She paused, then added, “No one saw you come in here.”
“My carâ”
“Isn't parked anywhere close to the chapel. I checked.”
“When?”
“When I saw the chandelier move in the main corridor.”
“What? What does that have to do with anything?”
“These old houses have their own peculiarities. Someone walking across the floor upstairs makes the chandelier vibrate. Leon was going to get it fixed. When he died, and I was alone, it didn't matter anymore. No one walks up there when
I'm
down here.”
I'm
down here.”
“You as good as killed those boys, Margaret. You parked on that dangerous curve so you could steal that piece of pipe.”
“If they'd been watching the road, they'd have seen my car. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“You ordered the wreath. Paltry compensation for their young lives. What was your reasoning?”
“It seemed the right thing to do.”
“And the snake in my car? Was that the right thing to do?”
She shuddered. “Everyone in town knows about that snake. Hodges talked about it all the time. Nasty thing. I wore gloves. Shoved it into a pillowcase.” She glared at me. “I thought I had you when I knocked you out in the embalming room, but you came around too fast. You had to be stopped. I remembered Leray's snake when you talked about Moth's.”
“How did you get it in my car?” I asked, moving closer to her so Katie would be behind me.
“I followed you all over town, waiting for the right moment. I'd just about given up when you parked on the curve. That was my sign. Our Lord took those boys at that place. I knew I was doing the right thing. When you parked there, you had to die.”
Beads of sweat erupted on my forehead. Margaret spoke of murder so calmly. “You killed Hodges, too?”
She shrugged. “Nothing escaped that man's attention. He'd seen the parsnips growing in my garden and had asked for some. I'd put him off. When he started causing Rosalie trouble, he had to be stopped. It was simple to gather a few water hemlock roots when I gathered my weeds. Leray took the sack like the glutton he was.”
“And Isaac?”
Margaret's jaw clenched stubbornly.
“Don't stop now,” I said. “Or are you tired of talking? Want me to take over?”
“Shut up!” she hissed.
“You knew Isaac was antagonizing the council by
growing his flowers. I'm sure you thought you were helping to defuse the volatile situation when you let Sam's goat out of his pen. If this poor, dumb animal wrecked havoc, so be it, but bigger trouble was brewing, wasn't it?”
growing his flowers. I'm sure you thought you were helping to defuse the volatile situation when you let Sam's goat out of his pen. If this poor, dumb animal wrecked havoc, so be it, but bigger trouble was brewing, wasn't it?”
Margaret raised her chin defiantly, but she didn't speak. Slowly, I went on. Most of what I said was supposition, but Margaret didn't contradict me.
“The stakes were raised when the council discovered Isaac was propagating a mutation that had an impressive monetary value. Detweiler must have been enraged and outraged by Isaac's actions. That's when shunning was first mentioned, and you knew you had to do something.”
I took another step toward her. It was dangerous closing the gap between us, but I wanted Katie as far away from us as possible. “I saw your apartment upstairs. You grew up Amish, didn't you? But something happened. You renounced their beliefs, became part of our modern society, but your roots are bound with these quiet, decent people.”
I stopped, hoping she would fill in the rest. She stared at me unblinkingly. I took a deep breath and gathered my strength. “You worked it all out. The murder weapon. Isaac dead. Poor Rosalie. But her grief would heal. You see that all the time. You were sparing her, weren't you? To be shunned must have been a terrible experience.”
My voice softened. “Who was shunned, Margaret? Was it someone in your family?”
She licked her lips. “My father put rubber tires on his farm wagon. The State Highway Department said his iron wheels were tearing up the blacktop road. Father was such a stickler about following the rules of our people. But on this one instance he didn't see that he had a choice. He begged the council to understand, but they refused. They told him to use the gravel roads, even though it would take him miles out of his way. Father was a stubborn man. He ruined my life And my mother's when he went against the council.”
“You saw Isaac was heading for the same fate as your father. You knew what would happen to his family if he was shunned.”
She didn't answer. I murmured, “What about Isaac's mutation? Did you kill it, too?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do, Margaret?”
“I poured embalming fluid in the water tank.”
Formaldehyde. So that's what I'd smelled in the greenhouse and in the embalming room. It had been on the towel Margaret was holding, supposedly to revive me. From the moment I'd followed her out of her office, I'd sealed my own fate.
“It's a killer,” I whispered. “But then, so are you.”
I sprang at the older woman. I aimed for her legs, hoping to topple her. I caught her unaware, but her reflexes were in prime condition. Her arm whipped around, and the trocar crashed into my head. Not as hard as she would have liked, but the blow left me dazed.
I sank to my knees. I saw a flash of movement and ducked. I felt the breeze of the weapon stir the hairs on my neck. I rolled across the carpet. My way was blocked by a cart holding a casket. I crawled around it and heard Margaret hot on my trail. Her breathing was ragged.
I struggled to my feet. Margaret was across from me, a lovely oak casket between us. The upper lid was open, the bottom closed. The air whistled as she made a swipe at my face with the trocar. I grabbed her arm when she made another pass in the opposite direction.
I was amazed at her strength. But then she'd built up her muscles moving bodies. I never lifted anything heavier than a vase of flowers. I doubled my efforts to overpower her. We wrestled across the curved bottom lid, seesawing back and forth. I'd gain ground, then lose it. I was on the viewing side of the casket. The brass fittings dug into my stomach. Margaret's fingernails raked my skin. But I kept my hold, and so did she.
Margaret's position was hampered by the upper lid. I used that to my advantage. She couldn't move around the end of the casket. I kept pulling her against the lid, pounding her arm against the wood, hoping she'd lose her hold on the trocar.
Suddenly, the wood splintered and the hinges gave way. The lid crashed to the floor. Margaret screeched. “My most expensive casket, and it's ruined!” Her eyes glittered anew with malice. Her teeth were clenched with rage. Swiftly, she reached across and grabbed a handful of my hair. At the same time she swatted at me with the trocar.
I screamed for Sid. I called for Carl. At some point, I even shouted for Mr. Engelhart to help me. This gave Margaret pause. I used that moment to get a better hold on her, and I pulled my hair from her grasp. Abruptly, Margaret turned and looked down at the floor. Sternly, she said, “No, Katie. Stop.”
It was a ploy I should have recognized. But Katie was my responsibility. I froze. Margaret had anticipated my reaction perfectly. Caught off guard, I lost my leverage. My feet left the floor. I was at Margaret's mercy, and she didn't have any to spare.
Inch by horrifying inch, she dragged me kicking and screaming toward the yawning bed of the casket. My body heaved and shuddered at this fate. I fought with every ounce of strength I had left, which wasn't much. I was a goner. Margaret only grew stronger, fired with determination to do me in. She bent over me. I saw the trocar rise.
Out of nowhere, another hand appeared. It gripped Margaret's arm in a firm grasp. In a droll voice, Sid said, “Boys, help the one in the casket. She sounds like she's still got some life left in her.” He twisted Margaret's arm. The trocar clattered to the floor. “Meanwhile, I've got this one under control.”
Once I was out of the casket and on my feet, I saw the room was full. Besides Sid and his men, there were Evan, Cleome, and Edna. Cleome was on her knees at her daughter's side. Tears streaked the Amish woman's face. Her voice was tender as she talked to Katie.Katie's eyes were open. She looked confused, but she moved her lips. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but from the smile on Cleome's face, I assumed the child was coherent.
Edna fussed over me. She smoothed my hair, touched my cheek. She rambled on about what a brave woman I was. She told how Cecil had phoned Sid, but that he'd made my request for assistance sound like a joke. With Evan pressuring her, Edna had called Sid herself. She'd demanded that the sheriff go to the Woodgrove Funeral Chapel posthaste.
Evan. He stood just inside the door, his straw hat in his hands. Was he upset? Did he blame me in any way for the danger Katie had been in? I knew if that were the case, I'd be devastated. I cared what this man thought of me.
Slowly, I walked to him. I took a breath and said, “I guess it's over, Evan.” Tears sprang to my eyes.
To my surprise, he wrapped his strong arms around me. With my nose buried in his chest, I smelled wood-smoke, fresh air, and sweat from a hardworking man.
I pulled away and smiled up at him. He gave my hair a tender stroke, then took his place at his wife's side. Cleome had witnessed our embrace. She reached for Evan's arm possessively and stared at me.
Click. Another piece fell into place.
Cleome was jealous of my friendship with Evan. I was sorry she felt that way. My interest in him, in both of them, was tied to the house they shared, and to the farm that had been a big part of my life. It would pain me; but if need be, I could cut that tie, leave their friendship, and carry on.
Perhaps Cleome realized it, too. She left Evan's side and came to me. She fumbled nervously with the fringe of her black shawl. Her words were spoken softly. “Thank you for taking care of our Katie, and for being a good friend. You are always welcome at our house.”
I could see the words weren't easy for Cleome to say. I nodded, then turned to Sid.
He asked if I needed a ride home. I said no. We agreed that I would give my statement in the morning. Right now all I wanted was a shower and bed.
I don't remember the drive to River City, but I must have done it. Obvious. I was sitting in my garage. I folded my arms across the steering wheel and gave up all pretense. No one would witness my desolation.
I cried at my fears, at life in general, at death that was so specific. I sobbed because I was alone. Because Carl was only a voice in my head and not a warm body for me to be cradled against.
When the storm of my weeping was over, I dragged myself from the car and into the house. I roamed restlessly for a time, going from room to room but still avoiding the master bedroom suite. I was on my fourth trip down the hall when I came to an abrupt halt at the door. I'd fought for my life tonight when I'd grappled with Margaret across that oak casket. Did I have the inner strength to fight for my own peace of mind? Could I let Carl go?
My fingers trembled as I turned the key, and the door creaked open. Undisturbed dust, mustiness, and just a faint hint of Carl's Old Spice aftershave lotion wafted to my nose. My stomach muscles cramped at the flood of memories.
Everything was the same. No one, not even me, had crossed this threshold since I'd moved my possessions out the day after Carl died. The bed was as I'd left itâas the paramedics had left it when they'd taken Carl's body away.
The sheets, blankets, and coverlet were hanging over the footboard. I stared at the bed. In my mind, I relived our lovemaking. Once again, I felt Carl's hands on my body. Felt the warmth of his touch. Saw the glow of passion in his eyes.
I heard a strange, mournful moan and realized it came from my own throat. I thought I'd cried all the
tears that I had, but I was wrong. They streamed down my face. Carl had loved me so much. He'd shown me his love often. On our last night together, I'd turned over on my side and gone to sleep, blissfully happy.
tears that I had, but I was wrong. They streamed down my face. Carl had loved me so much. He'd shown me his love often. On our last night together, I'd turned over on my side and gone to sleep, blissfully happy.
He'd turned over and died.
Everywhere I looked, I saw him. Leaning against the headboard of our bed. Combing his hair at the mirror. Tossing his dirty clothes onto the floor by the bureau.
“How could I sleep when you lay dying?” I asked aloud. “Why didn't I know? Why didn't I wake up? Why didn't I sense you needed me?”
I'd awakened and found his body as cold and lifeless as this room was tonight. I dashed a hand across my eyes and turned away. I left the room, but this time I didn't close the door.
Maybe I needed a change. I'd keep the flower shop. It was my rock. But maybe it was time to sell this house and find a place that didn't have so many heart-wrenching memories. Carl's life insurance money was sitting in the bank gathering interest. Before now, I couldn't bare to touch a cent of it.
The idea of a bed-and-breakfast appealed to me. I'd hire a manager. My heart fluttered hopefully. Was I onto something? I'd have people around me, but more important, I wouldn't have to come home to an empty house.
An image of the Beauchamp mansion flashed in my brain. When Carl and I were first married, we'd dreamed about someday owning a house like it. In those days it had been a pipe dream. But what if â¦
I'd heard the Beauchamp estate was for sale. Who had it listed?
The newspaper.
I opened the door and nearly stepped on it. A smile wavered at the corner of my lips. A pink carnation wrapped in tissue lay on top. I pulled the card from the envelope and read:
Dear Bretta:
Accept this flower as a token of my gratitude. I was joking when I first said you're as wise as Solomon. Now, I know it's true. Your wisdom in dealing with Jamie has put a gleam of determination in her young eyes. I know we have some rough roads ahead, but for now, thank you.
Bill Fenton
The glacier around my heart began to thaw. Then I took another look at the envelope. “Pick a Posie.”
“Allison Thorpe!” I muttered. “I've got to put some of this Solomon wisdom to use. What I need is a blockbuster ad campaign. I'll be damned if I let
that woman
get ahead of me.”
that woman
get ahead of me.”
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