Seven

Twenty minutes later, I was still waiting for one of Chief Duffy’s officers to talk to me. I called Laura at home and explained what happened.

“Maxwell Cherry is dead, and he died at the Farm?” Laura’s voice was breathless in my ear.

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

A new car pulled onto the lawn. An African-American man who looked like he doubled as a bodybuilder jumped out of the car with a medical bag.

“I think the medical examiner just arrived,” I told Laura.

“The medical examiner? Are you serious? Was he murdered?”

My chest tightened. “What? Why would you ask that?”

“Well, he was found in the brick pit. Can you imagine him climbing in there voluntarily?”

I couldn’t but said, “That doesn’t mean he was murdered. The police haven’t said he was.” I shivered as I watched the giant medical examiner look down into the brick pit.

“But you never know. Maxwell wasn’t exactly universally liked.”

I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell Laura about my argument with Maxwell the day before. Instead I focused on the Farm. “I need your help.”

“Of course. Anything.”

I wrapped Tiffin’s leash more tightly around my right hand as he tried to pull me toward the brick pit. “Call all the interpreters and tell them the village will be closed for today. If they’d like to come in to work to help with the reenactment, that would be okay. It’s not required though.”

“I hope I have all their phone numbers,” she said slowly.

“I gave each employee a list of contact numbers for the staff.”

“I know you did,” she replied. “It’s here somewhere. I just have to find it. Don’t worry about the staff, Kelsey, I’ll call them.”

“After you do that, call the visitor center staff. I need the opposite from them—I need them to come in early. If we need to close the village side of the Farm, we’ll have to figure out how to handle ticket sales. It doesn’t seem fair to charge our guests full price if half of the museum is closed.”

“I’m on it. I’m sure Judy will have a great solution.”

I knew she was right. Judy was a retired accountant and our resident math whiz. She would have a solution for the ticket sales in no time, probably even before I got back to my office. “Thanks, Laura.”

“Any time.” She paused, and I could almost hear the wheels turning inside her head. “How are you?”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. “Okay. It’s not how I wanted to start my day, but I’ll be fine. Maxwell is another story.” I thanked her and ended the call. I watched the medical examiner unzip the body bag and shivered. He hadn’t spent much time examining the body. Maybe Maxwell’s bare swollen feet and severe bee sting allergy made the cause of death self-explanatory. One paramedic and one police officer spread the bag on the grass parallel to Maxwell’s body in the pit.

“Hey, are you all right?”

I turned toward the voice. Chase had his hands in his jeans pockets and he rocked back onto his heels.

I nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He looked concerned. “Was Maxwell a friend of yours?”

“Not exactly, but he was a relative of a good friend.” My chest tightened. Cynthia! The thought struck me like a jolt. How is possible that I hadn’t thought of her until that moment? Who was going to tell her? The police? How would they tell her?

I left Chase balanced on the heels of his sneakers and headed straight for Officer Sonders. The officer snapped digital photographs of Maxwell’s socks and shoes sitting beside the pit. He glanced at me. “Do you know why he may have taken off his shoes?”

“If he wanted to get the mud ready to make brick, that’s what he would have done. It’s much easier and more effective to knead the mud and clay with bare feet. What I don’t understand is why he may have wanted to make bricks, especially in the middle of the night without any Barton Farm staff around to assist him.”

Officer Sonders nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but who’s going to tell his aunt?” I asked.

He lowered his camera. “Is she the next of kin?”

“I suppose so. Neither of them have any other family that I know of.”

“If she’s the next of kin, the chief will inform her.” He gave me an apologetic smile.

“She’s not well. The news might be a shock and have an effect on her health.”

His smile faded. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Congestive heart failure.”

He made a note. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep that in mind when we speak to her. Do you mind waiting over by Chase?”

I shook my head.

When I was back on the path next to Chase, he said, “You don’t remember me, do you?”

I gave him a blank look in return. “Have we met before?”

He flung his right arm over his head and his left over his chest and made an “I’m dead” face.

“You’re the dead guy!” I exclaimed, then slapped a hand over my mouth. I glanced over at the brick pit, but no one seemed to have heard me.

Chase laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before, but yeah, I’m the dead guy.”

“Where’s your uniform? I thought you guys stayed in character all weekend.”

“My uncle is the big history buff. I just do these reenactor gigs for him.” He grinned, showing off a dimple in his left cheek. “Not really my thing. Wearing that itchy wool uniform and playing dead for forty-five minutes in the smoldering heat while people step on you doesn’t hold much appeal.”

I eyed him. “Your uncle, the police chief.”

Chase folded his arms. “He told you, did he?”

“Is there any reason he shouldn’t have?”

“Nope.” He rocked back and forth. “Not one single reason.”

I looked way and concentrated on Chase’s coworkers, who rolled Maxwell into the body bag.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you—” Chase began, but the other officer who arrived on the scene with Officer Sonders approached us. He introduced himself as Officer Sullivan.

“I’m ready to interview you now.”

Thirty minutes later, after repeating my story four more times, Officer Sullivan released me to go back to the other side of the Farm. Tiffin and I headed in that direction. To my surprise, Chase followed us.

“I’m all done too,” he said. “Can I walk you back to your cottage?”

“My cottage?” I asked, alarmed. “How do you know where I live?”

“Don’t be freaked out that I know you live in a cottage on the Farm. All the reenactors know that. You told us in the opening meeting yesterday before the visitors arrived.”

Despite trying to fight it, I shivered. “Yes, I suppose I did.” I told myself I was overreacting. “That’s not necessary. I’d rather be alone. I need time to think.”

“No problem.” He flashed his dimple again before walking ahead of me back to the Union camp. Why did he fight for the Union if his uncle was the general of the Confederate Army? I walked at a much slower pace, and Tiffin didn’t seem to mind. It gave him more time to survey the area. The herding dog was always on constant surveillance of his farm.

As we crossed the street, I wondered how I would tell the reenactors to stay on their side of the Maple Grove Lane. When I approached the reenactor camps, though, I realized that I needn’t worry. Chase stood on top of a picnic table and announced to the crowd the village was temporarily closed because of an accident.

“What kind of accident?” one woman in a blue cotton dress shouted.

Chase made eye contact with me as he answered. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that.” He hopped off the picnic table and jogged toward me. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds. I figured the sooner we told the reenactors not to walk over to the village, the better. Chief Duffy will station an officer on the path just in case anyone tries to cross the street.”

“It’s good to see you have everything under control,” I said in a clipped tone.

Chase winced.

I shook off my irritation. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long morning, and it’s not even opening time yet. I really do appreciate your help.”

“Anytime.” There came the dimple again.

I unlocked the employees-only door on the side of the visitor center and let myself inside. Judy was already at the ticket window. She waved me away. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll handle the tickets. Laura told me everything. Why don’t you go in your office and rest a little?” she said in her grandmotherly voice.

Too tired to argue, I did as I was told.

Inside my cramped office—which consisted of full-to-bursting book shelves, a large desk, and one armchair—I turned on my eight-year-old desktop computer, a hand-me-down from the Cherry Foundation. It slowly came to life. I logged into my email account and saw I had a message from my ex-husband. The subject line said “Big News.” I didn’t like the sound of that, not the tiniest bit.

Against my better judgment, I opened the email and noticed right away that it wasn’t addressed to me individually, which was a relief. My relief quickly turned to anger.

Hi all! Great news. I’m engaged! I’m getting married to my lovely bride-to-be, Krissie Pumpernickle.

He went on to tell the readers how wonderful Krissie was.

I clenched the mouse until I heard the crack of its plastic case giving under the pressure. I released the mouse. I needed it to keep working; I didn’t have the money in the Farm’s accounts to buy a new one.

Married? How could he be getting married? I knew that Eddie had been dating other women since our divorce, but I had no idea any of those dates were serious. And who was Krissie Pumpernickle? This was the first I had heard of her and her ridiculous name.

I stared at the computer, trying to process what I’d just read. Why should I be surprised Eddie would tell me such earth-shaking news in an email? It was his modus operandi to avoid conflict, one of the many contributing factors in the demise of our marriage. Instead of addressing our problems like I wanted to, he ran away from them.

My thoughts flew to my son. Reading that my ex-husband was getting married in a mass email was painful enough for me. Like it or not, Eddie was Hayden’s father. Eddie’s marriage to this Krissie person would impact my son’s life. It set my teeth on edge that I knew nothing about her. What if she didn’t like Hayden? What if she didn’t like children at all?

I switched off the computer. I couldn’t face any more bad news just then. I stood and walked out of my office. In the great room, I found Judy speaking with Chief Duffy and a woman I didn’t know, who was wearing jeans and a blazer over a white Oxford shirt. Underneath her blazer, I saw just the edge of a revolver in a shoulder harness and silver badge clipped to her belt. Despite her attempt to look masculine with her clothing choices, she was all woman and had a curvy figure that I instantly suspected she wished there was a better way to mask. Her auburn hair was pulled severely back from her face in a tight knot at the top of her head. It made my scalp hurt just looking at it, but if the female officer found it painful, she didn’t show it.

I smiled at her and Chief Duffy, but my smiled faltered when Judy shot me a worried look.

“Kelsey, just the person we’ve been looking for.” Chief Duffy pointed to the woman. “This is Detective Brandon.”

I nodded to her, but the hair on my arms stood up. Why would the chief need to call in a detective if Maxwell died from bee stings?

I looked from the chief to the detective and felt my stomach tighten. “You were looking for me?”

“Yes.” The chief gave me a half smile. “We’d like ask you a few more questions in private about Maxwell Cherry’s murder.”

I gasped. “Murder? I thought it was an accident.”

Chief Duffy grimaced. “It doesn’t look that way.”

My mind flashed back to Chase leaning over Maxwell’s body in the brick pit. Could he have been lying to me? Maybe he hadn’t been trying to help Maxwell after all.

“You and Mr. Cherry had an argument not long before he died,” the detective said. Her voice was low and husky, as though she did burlesque shows as a side job.

Judy’s pale green eyes grew to the size of cake pans.

“Yes, we had a disagreement,” I said and straightened my shoulders. A supermodel cum police detective wasn’t going to intimidate me. “How would you know that?”

The detective lips curved into a smile. “We have a witness who said he noticed the two of you arguing yesterday afternoon about the future of the Farm.”

“Who is your witness?”

She shook her head.

The chief’s tone was casual as he asked, “What was your disagreement about?”

“Am I being questioned in an official capacity?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” I asked as a shiver traveled up my spine.

The chief looked apologetic, and he tucked his thumbs in his belt loops. “It wouldn’t hurt.”