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“How do you expect me to see that, Jake?” Bonnie said when I showed her the picture of General Stuart’s battle flag the next morning. She must have been feeling better because she got up before me to let Fred out, and I woke to the smell of fried bacon.
I noticed a rash on her foreman when she gave me back my cell phone. “Does that itch, Bon?” I asked, pointing to her arm, and the tiny blisters that had formed on top of a red rash.
“Is the Pope Catholic?” she answered, scratching it.
“You shouldn’t do that, Bon. It’ll only make it worse.”
She put down her fork and stared at me. “I’m old enough to be your mother, young man, so I don’t need no wet-nosed brat telling me how to treat poison ivy. This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” She wriggled her nose at me and went back to scratching, only this time she did it with a vengeance.
“Sorry, ma’am.” I turned away, trying not to laugh for fear I’d spit out my scrambled eggs. I saw Fred watching my every move when I turned. He must have been waiting for those eggs.
I threw Fred a piece of my bacon and turned back toward Bonnie. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Bon, I got it, too. I thought I’d picked it up from the entrance to the caretaker’s shack—the place is covered with it—but you’ve barely been out of the house, so maybe you got it from something I touched.”
“You can catch poison ivy from someone? I thought that was an old wives’ tale.”
“Not by touching them. The urushiol oil it secretes can stick to clothing. Maybe I wiped some of the oil on a towel or something.”
She started to take a drink of her coffee but stopped with the cup in mid-air. “How do you know this stuff, Jake? I can’t remember what a stigma or pistil are supposed to do, let alone the biology of poison ivy.”
I reached for her hand and lowered her cup before she spilled it. “The Internet, Bon. I was researching poisons for my work in progress and poison ivy popped up. Sometimes, I think I spend more time researching than writing, given all the blind alleys I follow.”
“Right. You saw it on the Internet, so it must be true. I heard that from Abraham Lincoln, in case you’re wondering.” She smiled and started scratching again.
My cell beeped, notifying me I had a new email. A quick glance told me it was from Bennett. “It’s about time.” I put my plate down for Fred and threw a small piece of bacon to Tigger who had finally got out of bed to see what was for breakfast. “I’ve got to make a quick trip to the library, Bon. Do you want to go?” I chose the library instead of the golden arches because hard copy printouts weren’t on their menu, and I wanted the ballistics report on paper.
She frowned and shook her head. “No thanks, Jake. Some of us don’t have the luxury of reading all day and need to do a little work around here.”
“Sorry, Bon, but I’ll make it up to you. How about I stop at the store and get us some calamine lotion?”
***
TRUE TO HIS WORD, BENNETT sent me the ballistics report from Jefferson City as a PDF file. I took a quick look at it and didn't see anything earth shaking, so I sent it to the printer and got ready to leave. I’d left Fred with Bonnie and felt lost without him. The temperature had changed like the locals said it would. It took a bit longer than fifteen minutes, as they say, but at seventy-five degrees, it had become too hot to have left him in the car. Maybe I should buy one of those service dog vests so he could come inside air-conditioned buildings in warm weather.
Before I shut down my computer, something in the report caught my eye. A summary on the last page said the bullet was a match to Kelly’s gun, but it also went into detail on the gun powder and type of oil it had picked up traveling through the barrel. Nowhere did it mention any human DNA. I’d have to read the whole report later that night.
***
I HAD TO PASS THE MYSTERY section on my way to the printer and got sidetracked by the indie author section. I just had to see if any of my books were on the shelf. I found several authors I recognized from my Facebook author groups, but none of mine. There were several by Steve Demaree, a few by Deborah Garner, Elise Abram, and Linda Crowder, but the one that made me smile was a book by a distant cousin of mine, Christine Grey. They also had authors I’d never heard of. Judging from the USA Today bestselling banners on the covers, maybe I should have. I wanted to check out a few titles I hadn’t read yet but knew I had to get back to work on the roof, and besides, I didn’t have a library card.
I was on my way out the door when all of a sudden, I stopped. People coming in thanked me for holding the door open for them not knowing I was in the middle of an epiphany. Out of nowhere, I remembered Amanda had been scratching a rash the day I’d found Al dead in the barn.
***
I STOPPED OFF AT THE barn to retrieve the Captain’s battle flag before going into the house. Although it could be worth a fortune, my plan wasn’t to bring it in for safe keeping, but it did call for handling the flag with care, so I went over to the tractor on my way to the hope chest to retrieve the work gloves I’d left on the seat. I picked up my gloves and made a mental note to get some hydraulic fluid, as the lift cylinders had leaked and created a small puddle.
I put on the gloves and proceeded to the hope chest. With a huge sigh of relief, I saw the flag was where we’d left it. Whoever had put it there either didn’t know its worth or was dead. I hoped for the former, or my theory was as dead as the stiffs in the family cemetery.
I gently removed the flag from the chest. Although I treated the flag with the respect it deserved by being gentle, that wasn’t why I’d put on the gloves. If my theory was correct, they were to protect me, not the flag.
***
I FOUND BONNIE IN THE kitchen with Fred and Tigger, watching her put makeshift bandages on her arms. I’m sure Fred thought it was something delicious, but I knew Tigger was simply curious. She never seemed to be hungry, at least not while humans were present. “Did you get that calamine lotion, Jake?”
In the excitement of my epiphany, I’d completely spaced it out. “Uh, sorry. I forgot all about it when I realized who’s been killing everyone. Do you want me to go back?”
Bonnie had been cradling her right arm like it had been blown off by a bomb and seemed to forget all about it and let it drop to her side. “You know who did it?” Her eyes were huge.
I felt the corners of my mouth form a smile. “Pretty sure, but I need to do a little experiment first.”
She looked at the flag I’d carried in, then at me. Her facial expression changed faster than the Missouri weather. “Experiment? I hope it’s not on Margot’s flag. She’d kill us both if you do anything to it now that she knows what it’s worth.”
I wanted to say something about false hopes. For all we knew, the flag might not be worth a cent, but I let it go so I could get on with my experiment. “I don’t have time to send it to a lab, so I’m going to experiment on myself. If I get the results I expect, I will know whodunit.”
Bonnie went over to the cupboard where she kept her “medicine.” “Would you stop talking in riddles, Jake, and tell me who did it.” She was on her tiptoes, trying to reach the top cabinet. I had put her booze there at her request, so she’d have to get a stool to reach it. She was trying to cut down.
“Sit down. I’ll get that for you and then I’ll tell you all about my revelation.”
To my surprise, she did as I’d asked and took a chair at the table facing me. Fred must have wanted to hear as well because he sat next to her. They looked like something Norman Rockwell would have painted for the Saturday Evening Post: an old lady with a broken arm and her dog looking sadly on. Tigger could have made the picture complete but got bored and went off searching for mice or whatever it is cats do when they tire of people.
I poured Bonnie her bourbon and sat down at the table opposite her. “I think Fitzgerald brushed up against the poison ivy in the caretaker’s shed after stealing the flag from Captain Scott’s grave. He must have given it to Amanda, who I suspect was to pass it on to Benson. Benson’s not the collector of civil war artifacts as he claims. I think he’s the fence. Anyway, when Fitzgerald died of his own stupidity, she must have thought Crammer killed him, and in turn, killed Crammer.”
Bonnie refrained from taking her second sip to answer me. “But he was her father. She wouldn’t kill her own father.”
“Her stepfather, Bon. Bennett told me he abused her and her mother when she was a teenager. I have a feeling she hated him.” My mind raced to finish. Most of what I was saying came to me as I spoke.
“Let me finish before you interrupt. I think she planted the flag in Kelly’s hope chest in an attempt to frame her for the murder. I’ll know for sure after I rub it on my good arm. It only took overnight before the rash showed up last time, so by morning we’ll know if my theory is right.”
Bonnie sat her glass down and frowned. “I still don’t see how that proves anything, Jake.”
I couldn’t help suppress my grin. “I forgot to tell you that part. Amanda was scratching a rash on her arm the day I found the nosey neighbor in the barn.”
***
I HAD A HARD TIME SLEEPING. Even if Fred hadn’t snored all night, I doubt if I could have slept. I wanted so much to expose Amanda so Kelly would be set free but didn’t know how to do it. I could take what I knew to Bennett, but he’d laugh me all the way back to Colorado when I said it was because she’d caught poison ivy from a flag. Then there were all the loose ends. Why had she bought a sword and hidden it in the attic where she knew I’d find it eventually? Surely, she knew I’d get around to fixing the insulation and have to start in the attic? And what was her motive for killing everyone in the first place? Bennett told me Crammer had abused her and her mother, but that was hearsay, and any smart lawyer would shoot that motive down in no time. It seemed the only way I could get Kelly released was if I got Amanda to confess. Maybe if I asked her nicely and said pretty please come clean, she’d do it. Sure. That was as realistic as Bonnie being canonized by the pope next week.
***
MORNING FINALLY CAME fifteen minutes after I’d fallen asleep. I knew it had to be morning because Fred was whining to be let out. I tried ignoring him by covering my head with a pillow, but he was smarter than me and pulled all of my blankets off. He must have known the cold air in the unheated sun room would get me out of bed, and he was right. “Okay, Fred, you win,” I said and stumbled out of bed. I dressed quickly and threw on my jacket while he watched me the way a fox watches a caged chicken.
Bonnie was sitting at the table when I passed through the kitchen on my way to the front door. “Afternoon, sunshine,” she said.
I grunted something even I didn’t understand and let Fred out, then went back into the kitchen and poured myself a hot cup of coffee before sitting down to join her.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well, what?”
She twisted her mouth and spoke slowly like she was talking to a New York City taxi driver, fresh off the boat. “The...rash...Jake...Do you have poison ivy?”
I’d been so tired, I’d forgotten. I quickly looked at my arm. Except for a small cut where I’d lost a fight with a loose wrench working on the tractor several days ago, it was fine. “Maybe it’s too soon,” I said.
“Or maybe Amanda has psoriasis,” she said, scooting her chair back. She rolled her eyes and went to the stove. “Scrambled okay? I don’t have time to make a gourmet brunch today. The girls in my bible class invited me to a bridge game at noon in Lincoln.”
“Fine, Bon, and thanks. I guess I better get back to that roof today. The snow should all be melted after yesterday’s seventy-five degrees.”
She turned, still holding an egg in her hand. By the look on her face, I was afraid she’d drop it. “You’re not taking what you know to the sheriff?”
I shook my head before taking a deep breath. “No, Bon. I might have jumped the gun on that. The more I think about it, the more I realize Amanda’s not our killer.”
Bonnie smiled before turning back to the stove. “It’ll be so nice to have a roof that doesn’t leak. Maybe I’ll be able to set up a sewing room in the spare bedroom.”