The front door closed behind Alice McCracken with a satisfying thunk. Down the walkway, Marjorie slid into the driver’s seat, still frowning over the destruction of the forest from the bulldozer they’d witnessed. Alan remained on the path, looking up at the mountain behind the house. It was quiet and the air was close, almost breathless. His scalp prickled and he wondered if they were being watched. A bird song he couldn’t identify slid out of the surrounding forest. Alan wondered if what he read in those adventure novels was true—that if the animals sounded undisturbed, there was nothing to fear. He’d taken pictures of the dead brush and broken tree limbs lying where the dozer had pushed them aside months earlier. The track was already starting to clog with new growth, but Alan could see the tracks in the ground from the machine.
“Let’s go on up the mountain to Edie’s,” he said, closing the car door and strapping himself in. “She’s probably back from the hospital by now.”
“I didn’t hear any traffic while we were inside here, did you?” Marjorie asked.
She started the car and executed an efficient Y-shaped reverse and they jounced down the driveway to the paved road. She turned left, up the gentle incline and shortly they arrived again at Edie’s front door. Her little red car was parked at the back of the house, nose against the garage door. She appeared, smiling, at the front door.
“I heard you coming,” Edie called.
“How’s Sam?” inquired Marjorie.
“He’s fine. The first call made it seem much worse than the actuality. I can’t tell you how relieved I am. I got to the hospital and there he was, sitting up and flirting with two of the nurses.” She smiled again and waved them in.
“I assume they have a policeman at his door,” Alan remarked.
“Oh, yes. I had to show him my driver’s license even though I’ve known him since he was a child. He went to school with Sam and I know his parents through PTA and school events. The benefits or problems of the small town, I guess.” Her brief smile waned as worry about her son reasserted itself.
“So, if it was only an accident, a slip and fall, as you said, why is there a guard at the door?”
Edie looked at Alan and shrugged. “I don’t know. It didn’t occur to me to ask Sam or the policeman.”
“It’s probably just routine. They sure don’t want a hospitalized prisoner leaving under cover of darkness.” He smiled to show he was only partly serious. “Have you talked to Sam’s attorney?” Alan walked across the living room and stared out the big window at the panoramic scene.
“I did talk with Mr. Hare. Sam’s attorney? He thinks the incident ought to be investigated, just to be sure there’s nothing else going on.”
“I agree,” said Alan. “Something about this whole case is off kilter. We’re missing something. I don’t know what it is, but I have this feeling that I’m missing something important.” He didn’t mention his sense of being watched by the mountain to either Edie or Marjorie.
“Coffee? I just made a pot.”
Both Marjorie and Alan agreed and Lockem began to turn toward the women when something in the trees caught his eye. “Do you have bears in the woods?”
“Occasionally,” said Edie. “But never at this time of year. Why?”
“I thought I saw something moving just inside the edge of the forest down there. It looked to have the bulk of a small bear.”
“Deer maybe?”
Marjorie moved to Alan’s side and stared through the glass. “Oh, there,” she gestured. “Not a bear. That’s a man. Is he on your property?”
Edie nodded and went to stand beside the others. “Oh, I see. Huh. I don’t recognize him. Yes, he’s on my land.” They watched in silence as the distant figure moved slowly across the open spaces between the tall trees, pushing past the occasional bush and then disappearing along the slope.
“Where would somebody be going, walking down there?” asked Marjorie.
“I can’t imagine, although we do get hikers crossing the land occasionally. There are no paths there and that slope is steep and rough, as you can see. Occasionally horses or cows from neighbors get loose and wander up the mountain. We have hay and straw undercover but it isn’t well secured so it attracts critters.” She smiled.
With nothing but vistas of nature to see, the three moved to the kitchen counter where Edie filled three mugs with aroma-bearing steaming coffee.
They sat and began an earnest conversation. Marjorie was covering much of the same ground they had done with Alice McCracken. They were planning to ask the same questions of all of the mountainside residents, the members of the owners association. Lockem zoned out, women’s voices fading to a pleasant murmur. His inner gremlin was restless. Whatever he was not seeing was more bothersome than usual. His vague sense of unease seemed stronger than usual. Maybe it was the incident last evening driving down the mountain. What was it that had startled Marjorie so?
He didn’t have a secure handle on the situation yet. Even early on, paths to follow, specific information to develop suggested themselves. This time was different. Maybe it was the altitude. Lockem’s analysis wasn’t physical, like Travis McGee’s, or Fang Mulheisen’s. Lockem’s age and his attitude against the idea of fisticuffs or shootouts usually protected him. He approached puzzles as a two-step; first, what did he need to know and then what sources were likely to provide the necessary answers.
In spite of the hurt Jack Ketchum had laid on the other members of the mountainside association, it just didn’t seem to rise to the level of homicide. Absent more intel from the owners, Lockem concluded, they needed to cast a wider net, as it were. It was looking more and more as if Ketchum’s murder was the result of something other than the purchase of the mountain. A deeper more detailed look at Jack Ketchum would be necessary. He glanced over at Marjorie, considering possible sources of more information about Mr. Ketchum and his activities prior to his demise. Perhaps, he mused, Sheriff Carter might be a source.
Alan’s reverie was interrupted by faint shouts coming from outside somewhere. The three rose as one and went to the door.
“Edie! Edie Black!” A hoarse shout rose from the direction of the horse barn just out of sight down the path. Alan remembered noticing the small structure as they passed on the way to the house.
“Ed? Ed Roose, is that you? What’s the matter?”
“You’ve gone and left the gate open and the horses are loose.”
Edie flinched and shook her head. “Oh, Hell and Damnation.” She flung herself around, stomped her feet into a pair of muddy heavy boots standing by the door, and grabbed a tattered old dark green hooded coat. Stuffing her arms into the sleeves, she pulled the coat over her shoulders and clomped out the door. “You two jut make yourselves to home. I’ll be back directly.” She trotted down the steps.
“Can we help?” Marjorie called after her.
“Nope. Stay there,” the running woman tossed the command over her shoulder at Marjorie.
Alan took Marjorie by the elbow before she could follow her cousin down the path.
“Forget it,” he said, pointing to her thin sandals. “You aren’t dressed to go thrashing around in that brush and you could get yourself lost. Or hurt.”
Marjorie wrenched her elbow out of his grasp, muttering something he didn’t catch. But she stopped at the edge of the porch. Lockem stopped beside her. “I know it’s frustrating when you want to help, but we’re just not dressed for it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.”
“Besides which, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a life or death situation. Those critters will get found eventually and returned to her corral.”
A half hour later he was proven correct, for a change. Edie stomped back up the slope from the horse barn. Her hair was in disarray and she had a new small tear in one sleeve from a close encounter with a blackthorn bush. Ed Roose waved and continued down the slope and disappeared in the trees. Marjorie handed Edie a towel and a hot cup of coffee.
Edie had stopped at the mailbox on her last swing through the bush. Now, sitting at the kitchen counter, she ripped open a big brown official-looking envelope. “Something’s going on,” she muttered. “I never leave the corral gate unlatched. If I didn’t know better, I’d say somebody is harassing me.”
She examined the letter. “Huh. That’s no help.”
Alan looked at her with raised eyebrows. Edie handed him the letter.