I was at the farmers’ market selling honey. It was a slow Saturday as it was cold and gloomy. I was hopping around trying to keep warm when Detective Kelly stopped by.
“How’s my favorite honey lady?” he asked.
“Long time no see.”
“Been busy, Josiah.”
“How’s everything at home?”
“Good. Real good. Back on track.” Kelly was referring to his relationship with his wife after his affair with my daughter. I didn’t condone it. I’m just telling you.
“Glad to hear it, Kelly.”
“Almost forgot. Brought you some hot chocolate.” He handed me a Styrofoam cup.
“You are a dear.” I took a sip. “Nice and hot. For that you may take some honey home. This is goldenrod honey. It’s dark and thick, but not overly sweet.”
“No thanks. I had some last year. I thought it tasted bitter.”
“It can. I’m not too fond of it myself, but people clamor for it. They say this honey helps with their allergies.”
When a customer came to the table to purchase honey, Kelly stepped back. “See what I mean?” I said, handing the customer her change. “I thank you and the bees thank you.”
When the customer left, Kelly asked, “Can I come behind the table? I need to speak with you.”
“Sure. Come on. I have a heater under the table. It will keep our toes warm while the rest of us freeze.”
Kelly stood next to me while I sold another bottle of honey.
I said, “You’re my good luck charm. Can you stay until I sell out?”
“Did you read the paper yesterday?” Kelly asked.
“I did.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“A woman’s body was found on King Landau’s old family farm buried under an oak tree. Her skull showed shows of blunt force trauma and a hammer was found buried with her.”
“The paper said the woman was identified as Dixie Landau, King’s first wife.”
“That’s right, Jo.”
“How did they identify her?”
“Her purse was thrown into the grave along with other personal items.”
“No DNA?”
“No one to compare her with. All her close kinfolk are dead. She’s been in the ground for decades.”
“What does King Landau say?”
“Said he doesn’t know who the woman is. Anybody could have buried her on his property. Said he hadn’t lived there for over sixty years.”
“And yet he kept the farm.”
“Does he say what happened to Dixie?”
“Says she ran away with a man.”
“Did King divorce Dixie?”
“He says he has a copy of the decree but can’t remember where, so we are looking into it.”
“He went to Mexico for a quickie divorce with his second wife.”
“We might not be able to prove or disprove his claim about this divorce if he got his divorce out of the US sixty years ago. A good defense lawyer could plant reasonable doubt about the ID of the remains because we don’t have dental records or DNA.”
“Any fingerprints on the hammer?”
“Too degraded.”
“Then Detective, you don’t have a case. Even if you proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman was Dixie Landau, you can’t prove King killed her.”
“Any suggestions?” Kelly asked.
“If I were a detective, I would call his second wife, Rockie Landau, and see if she has something to tell you.”
“Does she?”
“She might mention a photograph of a woman in a shoebox. If that picture still exists, it might have a name on the back. If it doesn’t, you can still have a forensic artist do a facial reconstruction of the features from the skull and compare it to the picture.”
“Nothing will come of it. King Landau is dying and in a hospice.”
“Yeah, but you might tie King to the murder of Shelby Carpenter. I think Carpenter was doing a piece on King and asking too many questions. He might have stumbled onto Dixie and King’s marriage certificate and wanted to know what happened to the first Mrs. Landau, not knowing he was stirring up a hornets’ nest.”
“You think King hired a professional hit on him?”
“I think someone in that family either killed Carpenter himself or knows who did. Do you really think Ferrina cares about anyone knowing she was a call girl?”
Kelly’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
Ignoring his last question, I said, “But she would care if Carpenter was getting close to finding out there was a body buried on the old homestead.”
“She’s down at headquarters right now being grilled by Drake.”
“Great minds think alike.”
Another customer came up and purchased several bottles of honey. “Gonna be here next week, Josiah?”
“This is my last Saturday until next year. It’s getting too cold.”
“Then give me four more bottles. The honey’s got to last me through winter.”
“Here you go. See you next year. Remember—you can freeze honey, but you shouldn’t put it in the fridge.”
“Thanks, Josiah. Have a great winter.”
“You bet.”
I put the cash in my pocket. “My money is on King. I doubt Ferrina or Chase even knew King had been married to a Dixie Orr.”
“How do you know her maiden name?”
“Don’t ask. Don’t tell.”
“I think Chase did it. He felt his father was being threatened by Shelby Carpenter or perhaps overheard Carpenter attempting to blackmail King, so he follows Carpenter and seeing an opportunity, shoots him.”
“It takes someone very cold blooded to shoot someone on a street in the middle of a city. That person has to be cool headed and collected. I don’t see Chase being such a person. He’s too emotional.”
“There’s no hard evidence connecting King to either case. It’s all circumstantial.”
“Looks like you are going to have two unsolved cases on your hands.”
“Darn it. I hate that. I would really like to crack this case wide open.”
“Unless you get a deathbed confession, I think it’s unlikely.” I took another sip of my hot chocolate.
Kelly looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. My shift starts soon. One more thing before I go.”
“Yes?”
“A woman called in the tip about the body to the State Police. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“I’ve learned my lesson about getting involved in police matters. Glad you stopped by and thanks again for the hot chocolate.”
“Always, Jo.” Kelly walked away with a little jaunt in his step. I couldn’t help but think of what might have been if Asa hadn’t left him after high school. He would have been a wonderful son-in-law.
A customer stepped up to my table, which shook me out of my reverie.
Life was what it was, and there was nothing I could do to change it.
Or could I?