Once their Jane Doe had been properly handled and sent to the morgue, and the deputies had finished processing the scene, Elizabeth drove Dayne back to the courthouse. After delegating duties, Elizabeth finished off her cooled morning coffee, and, with Bentley at her side, was about to head out once more. Mrs. McKinnley awaited.
“Sheriff.” Deputy Dayne’s voice echoed in the hallowed courthouse halls.
Pausing next to the exit, Elizabeth faced her newest addition. “Formality is a bit of a dinosaur here in Juniper. You can call me Elizabeth.”
“Not all of your deputies seem to hold to that idea.”
Elizabeth smiled. “One day that will change. What can I help you with?”
“I’d like to come with you.”
Blinking, she cocked her head and regarded Lila Dayne. The shortened hair was pushed back from her heart-shaped face, and then left to fall in place.
“I know you want me to stay and familiarize myself with the department and how it runs, but I’d get a better feel of things if I just rode with you.” She dipped her chin, peering at Elizabeth with her light brown eyes. “The residents of Eckardt County would be more comfortable with me if I am seen with you.”
“That’s true.” Elizabeth took in the quiet street littered with fallen leaves from the three maples dotting the dormant Kentucky bluegrass yard. A blue sedan crawled along the street. “We are a wary lot to outsiders and immigrants.”
“And what constitutes as an outsider?”
Elizabeth pointed at Lila. “You. Don’t be surprised if the residents around here start off disregarding you in favor of a son or daughter of Eckardt. And I warn you, do not take offense to it.”
Opening the door for Bentley to snake-pipe through, Elizabeth gestured for Dayne to follow and exited.
All three settled in Elizabeth’s Ford. She backed out of the parking lot, pointed the fat nose of the SUV in the right direction, and drove out of town. Deputy Dayne spent a considerable amount of time studying the streets.
“Why did you decide to run for sheriff?” she asked ten minutes into the trip.
Flicking on her blinker, Elizabeth slowed the Ford to a full stop at the intersection she wanted, waiting for a tractor hauling two grain wagons loaded with soybeans to pass. She waved at the farmer and was rewarded with the obligatory Iowa one-hand lift. Once the second wagon cleared, she turned.
“The crime rate isn’t as high as say Chicago’s, but in the last twenty years or more there has been an alarming uptick in activity. I spent a lot of time researching this during my campaign.”
“Any reason for this?”
“I have my suspicions but no concrete proof. As of late, it hasn’t been my focus. Cleaning up the department budget and squaring off against some egomaniacs who seem to think money can be better spent elsewhere have taken my full attention.”
Dayne fell silent.
As she tooled along, Elizabeth met three semis, two coming back from the grain storage facilities and one on its way there. The start to the crop year hadn’t gone well for the farmers. Between the late planting due to winter’s long grip and the weeklong rains that had drowned the freshly sprouted seedlings, and then replanting when the fields dried out, the farmers were scrambling. They were already into the first of December, and so many of the fields had yet to be harvested. Luckily, the Farmers’ Almanac was calling for a delayed winter. As long as that held true, things would work out.
“Where is it you’re headed?” Dayne asked as they passed by huge grain storage bins.
“Three Points, the only other town big enough to have an actual mayor.”
“And what is your reason for coming out here?”
Elizabeth had certainly chosen the right woman for this position. “A disturbance call.”
“This land goes on forever,” Dayne muttered after a brief bout of reticence.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but in my many travels, I seem to remember a lot of crop ground in Illinois.”
Dayne frowned, staring at the flat, fertile fields, some bare, some with still-standing, dried yellow stalks. “Yeah, but it’s nothing like this.”
“No, I guess it isn’t, since Iowa is the second leading state in crop production.”
The new deputy frowned at her. “And I need to know that why?”
“Because, Deputy Dayne, you are now in the agricultural heartbeat of America and the world, but I digress. If you want to learn and get to know the people who live here, you need to speak their language. Eckardt County is a farming community. Main topics of conversation okay to discuss.” Elizabeth held up her hand and counted off. “Weather, how the grands are doing, and what new recipe you discovered. Topics off-limits: politics, religion, and what new ailment your doctor told you about.”
At that precise moment they passed a large swine confinement facility that sat about two hundred yards off the main road and was surrounded by a thick stand of fast-growing poplar trees.
“And that right there is the reason Iowa leads the nation in pork.”
Dayne sighed. “I think I’ll stick to solving murders.”
Biting back the humor twitching at her lips, Elizabeth lifted her chin at the large wooden sign painted blue, green, and gold that announced: Welcome to Three Points, Home of the Fighting Militia.
“Here we are.”
She bypassed the town’s main street and skirted the perimeter to meet with a narrow road that was more seal-coated gravel than pavement. Elizabeth kept the SUV to a slow crawl. A meticulous lawn bordered by a white-painted fence came into view, meeting at the drive with two wrought-iron gates topped with old-fashioned gas lamps. The gates were swung back to allow entry. Off in the distance, through a stand of trees and a tangle of brush dividing the property lines, visitors could make out the outline of what was once a stately Queen Anne home. The ruins were a constant complaint of the resident in the home at the end of the lane Elizabeth drove along.
“Wow,” Dayne whispered.
Indeed. The elongated, single-story, brick ranch could be considered a showy house, but the woman living among the bright red walls and white trim was completely the opposite. Mrs. Neva McKinnley, English and British literature teacher-extraordinaire, had never been accused of being flashy or showy. She epitomized her generation as the prim and proper schoolmarm who, after retirement, took up gardening and caring for her ailing husband. Clark McKinnley had passed away eight years ago after a long battle with Parkinson’s. Deep in the heart of Germany, Elizabeth had mailed a condolence card to her once-favorite teacher.
Parking her SUV in front of the garage, Elizabeth exited with Bentley hot on her heels. Dayne closed the passenger door with a clap.
“This place looks like it belongs in Better Homes and Gardens.”
Lifting a shoulder, Elizabeth grinned. “I think a neighbor tried to get her to submit pictures to the magazine, but Mrs. McKinnley isn’t in to putting on airs, so she claims.” She paused at the bottom of the steps. “Two things. One”—she held up a finger—“she likes to entertain, so do not turn down her hospitality. And two”—second finger went up—“for a retired English teacher, she can put the best lawyer to shame when she cross-examines, so be on alert.”
“Got it.”
Bentley waited next to the door, her gaze zeroed in on the handle. Elizabeth pressed the doorbell. Their wait was short. A gauzy curtain fluttered to the left, and then the door swung open.
“Sheriff, so good of you to come. And you brought your sweet pup.” Neva McKinnley bowed, her hands cupped Bentley’s face, and she lavished the collie with love, then produced the expected treat. Lapping up her reward, Bentley licked the age-spotted hand and then squeezed between Elizabeth’s and Dayne’s legs to have run of the yard.
Sharp hazel eyes pierced the two women through a pair of spectacles. “Shall we?” She stepped aside.
Elizabeth leading the way, the two entered the McKinnley home, greeted by the aroma of yeast and cinnamon. Dayne closed her eyes, and her chest rose and fell. With a smile, Elizabeth followed the retired teacher down the hall to her kitchen.
“Mrs. McKinnley, I’d like you to meet my newest deputy, Lila Dayne.”
Neva McKinnley stopped, turned, and examined the woman at Elizabeth’s side. A purse of her lips preceded a nod of approval before Neva continued into the heartbeat of her home.
“Would you like a cup of coffee and a sticky roll?”
“Love to,” Dayne interjected before Elizabeth could answer.
Another nod of approval, the elder McKinnley headed for the coffeepot.
Dayne leaned closer to Elizabeth. “What’s a sticky roll?”
“Heaven with pecans.” She pointed at the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Deputy. Let me help you with those, Mrs. McKinnley.”
Two fat rolls slathered in gooey goodness were plated on the guest china, and two delicate cups of steaming coffee placed on the table. Neva sat along with Elizabeth at the table. The teacher watched the deputy fork in a bite of the roll and smiled that all-knowing smile behind her cup as Dayne’s face melted into sheer pleasure.
“Now, Mrs. McKinnley, I received your complaint regarding the noise you heard at the old Barrett place. Can you describe what it was you heard?”
“I can tell you down to the fine details. As you know, it was unusually still last night, and the sounds carried perfectly through the trees.”
“How far is your home from this Barrett place?” Dayne asked.
Frowning, Neva glared at the younger woman.
Dayne’s gaze flicked to Elizabeth. Giving her new deputy a shake of her head, she gathered Mrs. McKinnley’s attention once more.
“Go on.”
“For your information, it’s a good four hundred yards from here to there. I had my bedroom window open since the weather was so glorious yesterday. The noises I heard coming from that place made my skin crawl. It sounded like someone was trying to scream and laugh at the same time. I also heard sounds like wood splintering. I got up to close my window to stop the awful racket, and the last thing I heard was a low grumble like one of those all-terrain vehicles.” She set her cup down and stared right into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’m telling you, those wicked teenagers in town are using that abandoned place for their illicit affairs, and probably destroying that monstrosity in the interim. Mark my words, someone will end up dead in there soon enough.”
“Have you heard anything like that before last night?” Dayne interjected.
Elizabeth bit her lip before the smile popped up. The elder McKinnley, however, didn’t look so favorable upon the deputy.
“You’re new around here.”
In an apparent bid to save herself from the scrutinizing stare of a drill instructor teacher, Dayne shoveled another forkful of sticky bun in her mouth.
“Yes, my deputy is new.”
“She’s got that Chicago nasal going on. Is that where you are from? Chicago?”
Dayne dipped her chin and nodded, her gaze focused on the cup of coffee.
Sighing, Neva met Elizabeth’s gaze once more. “Manners, Sheriff, manners.”
“Yes, ma’am, we’ll get right to it.” Enjoying a sip of her coffee, Elizabeth waited.
“This is the twenty-third call I’ve put into the sheriff’s office about those odd, disruptive noises. That Slick Willy excuse of a sheriff from before didn’t bother to give me the time of day. Now you, Elizabeth, you have answered every single call.”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you still can’t figure out who is causing all that racket.”
“Unfortunately, I have not. I have, however, seen where there have been intruders. I just can’t make out if they are of the two-legged or four-legged kind. Maybe Deputy Dayne can help me with that today.”
“Let’s hope your intuition proves right, Sheriff.” Neva picked up their dirty dishes and took them to the sink. “My son believes I’m going senile in my old age. He says that if there is any truth to my claims, it is high time that place be demolished and the ground put to better use.” She turned back to the table. “He managed to sway the town and county councils to get the building condemned, which I have no objection to. However, that doesn’t stop anyone from running amok through there. The sole living Barrett is livid that he moved on the place without her consent.”
Elizabeth cringed. “Who told her?”
“Jason did.” Neva resumed her seat with a shake of her head. “That boy of mine has a thick skull when it comes to certain individuals in this county.”
Dayne cast Elizabeth an inquiring look, but Elizabeth waved off the inevitable question. “Mrs. McKinnley, I believe my deputy and I will go over to check out the Barrett place. If I find there is something to be alarmed about, I will notify you and your son. In the meantime, keep an ear out for me.”
The grand dame gave a courtly nod.
Elizabeth rose, Dayne quickly joining her. “Thank you for the respite. We’ll show ourselves out.”
“Be sure you take another treat out to Bentley,” Neva said.
“I wouldn’t dare leave here without one. Bentley would never forgive me.”
Elizabeth gave her new deputy a heaping ton of credit as she kept her own council while the two of them strode out of the house, two more doggie treats in hand, snatched from the container left by the door. Releasing a piercing three-tone whistle the minute her boots hit the sidewalk, Elizabeth headed for her SUV. She was at the driver’s side the second Bentley raced across the wide yard. The border collie glided to a halt right at her feet and looked up with a smile.
“That’s a girl.” Elizabeth rewarded her dog and opened the door. Bentley bounded inside and was in her spot before Elizabeth could take her seat. Last treat given, she checked to ensure Dayne was secure and then turned over the engine.
“How many calls have you actually responded to that she’s called in?” she asked as Elizabeth backed out of the drive.
“Five since I started. And it’s only been a month.”
“Eighteen of those went to the previous sheriff. Over the course of how many years?”
“That I couldn’t tell you. He didn’t track them. Georgia, who has a long-standing memory, recalls at least three years.”
The drive was short and sweet, and Elizabeth parked in front of the rotting building. All three spilled out, Bentley staying close to the two women as she sniffed the ground around the gnarled shrubbery.
“Who is the sole living Barrett?”
“Martha Kauffmann. Everyone around here calls her Ma.” Elizabeth picked a path through the tall, brittle grass. “Don’t ask me why everyone calls her that, it’s just been that way. She was an only child to the last and only Barrett son.”
With Dayne following a few steps back, the two circled the house. At one time the residence had been painted a brilliant yellow with blue and green trim, the wraparound porch an inviting place to sit a spell and chat with the family while the kids played on the rope swings hanging from massive oaks now long dead and gone. Elizabeth recalled her parents saying they had met here at an ice cream social when they were a respective eleven and ten years of age.
Now the once grand Queen Anne stood on a sinking, crumbling rock foundation, her three stained glass windows removed, and the remaining windows shattered or missing. The two turret roofs were sinking, while the main roof was tattered and hole-ridden. The still-standing oak trees had been battered and broken by wild midwestern storms, and the prized rosebushes were overgrown and dying.
“Such a sad state for a piece of the town’s history,” Dayne stated.
Elizabeth stopped next to what had been the carriage house converted into a garage, and looked up at the faded and peeled siding. “Yes. The Barretts’ son didn’t carry the same pride and joy his parents did over his inheritance. When he died, the place came into Martha’s possession. But she’d been estranged from her father for decades, and she never saw fit to redeem her family legacy. By then it was too late to save the house.”
“Then why was she so mad that the mayor had it condemned?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it wasn’t her idea to do it. Or she’s just a cantankerous woman looking for a reason to be mad at anyone and everyone.” Sighing, she dragged her gaze from the dilapidated building. “At least there are photos in city hall to remind everyone of what this place once stood for.”
She moved toward the back of the collapsed carriage house.
“And what did it stand for?” Dayne asked, following.
“Perseverance and stubborn midwestern pride.” Elizabeth halted, staring at a pair of tracks leading away from the site and plunging into the thick woods at the edge of the property. “Someone was here on an ATV.”
Dayne crouched next to the closest set, the grass bent and broken by the weight of the machines and rider. “Is there a path through there?”
“There’s only one I know of, but it’s been decades since I was back there. My ex-husband and his buddies were known to have parties out there. He and his brother know that place like the back of their hand. Though I’m fairly certain things have changed over the years. If memory serves me correct, it’s terrain better suited for ATVs or horses.”
Coming to her full height, Dayne circumvented the tracks and examined the area around the carriage house. “I see a path through the grass here.” She rotated to face the house. “Looks like it leads to the back door.”
Elizabeth joined her. Staring at the jagged path, she couldn’t tell how many people had trespassed through here. “What are your thoughts, Deputy Dayne?”
“How safe is it to go inside?”
“Let’s find out.”