Four

My Oma, who was the same age as Rose, sometimes told me things that seemed unlikely. In every instance she had been proven correct. Oma was very sharp.

But was Rose? What about the judge? I glanced at the judge, who eyed me.

“I’m not quite clear.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the white roses could have been an innocent mistake or that Dovie, someone who had every right to be in the house, had opened the kitchen window. They knew that anyway. “While the issue with the roses was understandably upsetting, how would that or the oatmeal frighten you?”

“By driving him out of his mind!” Rose said with unwarranted conviction.

I looked to the judge, who remained stoic. “Do you think this person is responsible for Fritz being lost?”

“I have considered that, of course. But it appears to be the result of Dovie’s carelessness.” He tapped his forefinger on the crook of his cane. “On the surface, these events would seem like unimportant pranks. Perhaps you have noted two things about them. They are getting worse in terms of maliciousness. And, most troubling of all, someone is listening to us.”

“Pardon me for being blunt,” I said, “but what would they have to gain?” I thought it unlikely that someone who brought him oatmeal was inclined to kill the judge, but he had a point about someone listening. That alone was distressing if it was true. No one wanted to be spied upon. “Sir, in your career, you must have sent people to prison. Is there anyone who stands out in your mind? Someone who would want to take revenge on you?”

The judge nodded. “Indeed. A few people. Most of them are still in the prison system. However, one stands out, a Wallace McDade.”

McDade? One of the WAG Ladies was a McDade. “Wallace is out of prison?” I asked.

“Yes. I checked his status immediately. I didn’t send him to prison. But Wallace has it in him to torment. He was born gripping the proverbial silver spoon in his hand. He came from a fine upstanding family. Good people, the McDades. His parents and grandparents made a fortune through diligence and hard work. But Wallace is an odious human, seemingly indifferent to the pain and suffering he causes others.”

“Can you share the nature of his crime?” I asked.

“Certainly. I’m not telling you anything you wouldn’t find in public records. In his youth, Wallace killed my daughter in a drunk-driving incident. Alas, he hardly served any time due to a new program designed to rehabilitate youthful offenders. Later on, Wallace was convicted of attempted murder.”

Rose drew a sharp breath. “Oh my word! I remember Bobbie! Why didn’t you tell me? That was such a terrible tragedy. I never knew that he attempted to murder someone else.”

“His father. It was fate and a little dumb luck that saved his father’s life. His sister, an avid gardener, happened to hear the scuffle and ran into the house still clutching a wickedly sharp three-tine cultivator she had been using in the garden. She slammed it on Wallace’s neck from behind, nearly hitting his spinal cord. He wasn’t paralyzed, but it seems he did feel his own pain. When the police arrived, they found him in a garden shed, bleeding profusely. They tell me the father tore down the garden shed and built a new one because no one could bear to go inside it anymore.”

I wondered if the sister in question was Brenda McDade, our guest at the inn. “And you believe that Wallace is sufficiently deranged to harass you and wish you harm?”

“Holly, I encountered a goodly number of miscreants and thugs during my career. Many physically intimidating and vicious. But Wallace terrified me more than any of them. He was intelligent, affable, and courteous. People consider him pleasant and will not see the evil lying behind his facade until it is too late. He is educated and eloquent. A monster who cleans up well.”

“You’re sure he was released from prison?” asked Rose, who looked around anxiously, as if she thought she might see him peering through the glass.

“He was given the maximum time that the law allowed for his attempt to murder his father, ten years. A ruling that generated a considerable amount of opposition by those who saw his refined appearance and did not understand the truth about him. Interestingly, not a single member of his family objected to the sentence. I always suspected they preferred to have him safely locked away from decent people. He was a rather young man at the time. I pray that he has changed, though I think it unlikely.”

“Have you seen him around town?” I asked.

“No. I am pleased to say that I never set eyes on him again after he was hustled out of court in handcuffs.”

“Presumably, he may look somewhat different now,” I mused aloud. “Forgive me for asking, but who benefits from your death?”

“I have provided for Dovie, of course. She has been with us for a long time. I don’t know how I would have managed without her during Theona’s illness. And there is a special trust for Fritz as well. Beyond that, everything goes to my granddaughter Addi.”

“Addi? Is she still notoriously late for everything?” I asked.

“You must know her!” exclaimed the judge.

“We played together when we were children.”

“She’s staying at the inn, isn’t she?” asked Rose.

Her grandfather added, “Addi has no concept of time. She’s just like Theona was. Always stopping to move a turtle out of the road or driving forty miles out of her way to pick up someone’s favorite pie. She’s a dear.”

I was getting into precariously emotional territory, but I forged ahead. “I was under the impression that you had a number of children and grandchildren.” Surely that was enough to point out to him that any one of the others might be upset if they knew they would receive nothing from his estate.

“Bobbie, the daughter I mentioned, predeceased us, as did one of our sons. That leaves Addi’s mother and one son. Addi’s mother has no need of money and has no interest in Wagtail. As far as I know, my son is still living.” The judge sounded completely unemotional.

“You cut him out of your will?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “I would not have said that. Your question presumes he was once in the will.”

Ouch. I assumed I had hit a sore spot and moved on. I was as blunt as the judge had been. “At this point, you haven’t really told me anything that suggests someone intends to harm you. Perhaps one of them was trying to frighten you, Judge Barlow?”

I supposed it could be murder if someone intentionally induced enough distress to cause a heart attack, but oatmeal and roses didn’t seem to rise to that level. It sounded to me like someone was trying to help them. The means was certainly creepy, but I wondered if that person had good intentions.

And wouldn’t murder by gaslighting be difficult to prove? Especially when the only witness was a frightened elderly lady? I needed to talk with Officer Dave. He was a reasonable guy. If nothing else, maybe he could provide some insight.

“We thought you might find the person who is doing this,” said Rose. “You’re so good at identifying killers.”

I certainly hoped we weren’t dealing with a murderer. “Who else has a key to the house?” I asked.

Judge Barlow snorted. “I have no idea. This house is at least eighty if not one hundred years old. I don’t know exactly when it was built, but I do know that no one has changed the locks as long as I have lived here. For decades, no one in Wagtail locked their doors. I have a key, as does Dovie. I presume my wife had one as well.”

That would mean a lot of people could have keys. “Is there anyone in particular whom you know for sure has a key?”

“Why are you asking about keys? Do you think someone will enter the house at night while we—” Rose coughed “—Grant is sleeping?”

I had suspected as much, but now that she had slipped a couple of times, it was clear that the two of them were an item. I tried to bite back my smile and allow Rose to maintain her dignity. “I’m pretty sure that it’s possible to eavesdrop on someone from outside the house. But it’s probably much easier to set up something inside the house. And if oatmeal was on the kitchen counter, someone must have entered the house.”

Judge Barlow huffed. “That’s what Officer Dave said, but he didn’t do anything about it.”

A horrible thought crossed my mind. “Do you leave a key outside somewhere in case you get locked out?”

“Yes,” Rose gasped. “I see what you’re getting at.”

“Is it under a mat?” I asked, certain of the answer.

“Of course. I know some people keep them on the door frame over the door, but it’s getting too hard for us to reach up that high. I get dizzy if I look up too long. Can’t decorate the top of the Christmas tree anymore unless I’m on a tall ladder.”

I shuddered at the thought. She really shouldn’t be climbing ladders.

Rose drew her shoulders back and sat up straight. “What do you charge? I would like to hire you.”

“Oh, Rose. You know I don’t charge anything. Besides, I don’t honestly know if there’s much I can do without any evidence.”

“That’s disappointing! I can show you the container of oatmeal. It’s in the kitchen cupboard.”

“Let’s start with this. Maybe Judge Barlow could pay for some new locks on the doors. I can send our handyman, Shadow, around to change them out for you. Rose knows him. You can trust Shadow. He’s a decent guy.”

“Since I don’t have Fritz here to bark, that’s probably a good idea, but it won’t help me catch the perpetrator,” growled the judge.

“Would you mind if I had a look around? Maybe fresh eyes will help spot the listening device.”

Rose showed me to the stairs. “There are six bedrooms. When you come down, don’t overlook the judge’s library.”

I was on my own. The house was huge. The bedrooms were lovingly decorated with drapes that matched chairs or bedspreads. I looked behind curtains and under beds, scanned desks and bookcases. In the master bedroom, I dared to lift paintings away from the wall ever so slightly. I found a wall safe under one, but nothing else. Dovie did a good job of cleaning. Surely she would have noticed anything that didn’t belong.

Trixie trotted along, sniffing, but she didn’t find anything of particular interest, either.

I returned downstairs and walked through a formal living room. I found the judge’s library, a beautifully paneled room with a fireplace and three walls of books. It was clear that he spent time there. One leather chair was well worn. A favorite, I guessed. A massive desk was equipped with a computer, a printer, and all the paraphernalia that went along with them. I’d heard of listening devices disguised as pens and thumb drives. But how could a person tell the difference? Of all the rooms in the house, the library would have been my top choice for hiding something. With all those books, how would anyone ever notice a pen behind one?

Feeling terrible for them, I returned to the conservatory. Rose was one of my favorite people. The judge appeared composed, but he must have been troubled, or he wouldn’t have agreed to speak with me. Even if someone had their best interests at heart, he or she had managed to frighten them. “I don’t see anything that would be suspect. If anything at all happens, I want you to call me. Okay?”

They agreed, and Rose showed me to the front door, once again holding a finger across her lips. I picked up my basket and stepped outside. Bending over, I lifted the corner of the doormat. A dull silver key lay underneath it. I picked it up, handed it to Rose, and whispered, “Let’s find a better place for this, shall we?”

Instead of saying goodbye, she took the key and walked me out to the sidewalk. “You will keep this under your hat?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“You don’t have to look at me like that. Theona has been dead for more than six months.” She watched my reaction. “Not long enough?”

“Rose, I’m sure everyone just wants for you and Judge Barlow to be happy.”

She snorted. “Don’t be so sure. Liesel and Holmes can be quite critical. And Dovie must suspect. She’s always trying to get me to leave when I’m here. She doesn’t know the extent of my relationship with Grant, of course, but she throws Theona’s name in my face constantly.”

“Is there any chance that Dovie is doing these things? Maybe she’s jealous? She was hoping that with Theona out of the way, the judge would depend on her?”

“I’ve thought about that.” Rose waved at Mae Swinesbury, the neighbor who was peering at us through her lace curtains. Mae disappeared instantly.