Murder Under the Covered Bridge (10 page)

Francine was impressed with how
well-organized
the greenhouse was. Baskets of flowers hung near the windows, and eight long rows of tables held mostly starter plants, although there were some larger plants in pots. “I brought the flowers inside when we had the first frost a few nights ago,” he said. “I haven't moved them back out, and I may not. I like having the color in here.”

“They're beautiful,” Francine said. She and the others strolled through the greenhouse, walking up and down each aisle. Francine found that Zed was following her, which caused the remainder of their group to shift to other aisles. They chattered among themselves under their breaths, so it was hard to hear.

Some of the rows had tiny plants Zed must have started recently from seed. Francine recognized beans and tomatoes and others, but she stopped at a row in the middle containing things she didn't. “What are these?” she asked.

“Native plants that don't survive the winter. I grow them in here during the cold months so I have access to them. They do surprisingly well in a greenhouse. I'll start more in late winter from seed and transplant them to the third garden in the spring.”

“The third garden?”

He winked at her. “Yes, the third garden. Doc Wheat's garden. It's not easy to find. I presume it was the source of Doc's famous remedies. Biologically, it's an incredible assembly of native plants, some of which I don't think exist anywhere but here. It's why I've kept it up. The interest in native species is starting to bloom again—forgive the pun—and I tell myself that one day I'll get in touch with some of the state biologists to let them take samples and redistribute them across the state.”

“Where is the garden?”

He shifted his eyes toward a corner of the greenhouse where a cover was thrown over what look to be an
all-terrain
vehicle. “We'd have to take the ATV.”

Francine had no intention of getting on an ATV with a virtual stranger. “We probably don't have time today, then.”

He seemed amused by that. “Probably not. But I hope that you'll come back so I can show it to you. You'd love the place. It's hidden away in a small canyon and fed by a spring that sprays into the air like a tiny geyser.”

Francine pictured it in her mind. “I'll do that. Thank you for inviting me back.” She found herself still checking out the corner where the ATV was. There was an antique curio cabinet that contained several shelves of mason jars. Though she couldn't be sure, they did not appear to have anything in them. The jars were lined up except for one row in the front where a single jar was missing. The cabinet had a keyhole, and she wondered if it were locked. But why would Zed keep empty jars?

Zed touched her on the arm and indicated they should go outside. The move felt a little off to Francine, but she went along with it. They stood outside the greenhouse, just to the side of the open door. Francine thought she could probably be seen by the women inside, but not Zed. He was too far to the right of the door.

Zed slipped Francine a small book he took out of his jacket. “Please put this in your purse, Francine. Did you know I knew your grandmother Ellie?”

Francine was surprised. With his
still-dark
hair and his beard hiding aging in his face, Zed looked to be a few years younger than her, hardly old enough to call her grandmother by her first name. “You did?”

“It's a long story how I got this diary, but I'll skip that for now. Suffice it to say it's hers. I had always meant to give it to your mother, but when your family moved to Evansville I lost touch. The reason I'd hoped to meet you was I wanted to give it to you.”

Francine was stunned by the appearance of this second diary, but she tried not to show it. She checked the women in the greenhouse. They were in a semicircle examining what Zed had described as native plants and hadn't seemed to notice that neither she nor Zed were inside. She glanced down at the delicate diary in her hands. It was similar to the one William had had in his possession, except this one had a purple fabric cover with the heart graphic embroidered in it. It had a square lock holding it closed like the first diary. It was not locked, however, and she opened the cover. The binding had split from the spine. She flipped to the first page. Francine had many of her grandmother's handwritten recipe cards, and this, too, was definitely in her grandmother's handwriting. “You've read it then?” Francine asked him.

He nodded. “Many times. You'll think it rude of me perhaps, to have read a young lady's diary. But it has some wonderful historical bits of information in it. For instance, she tells the story of her mother's love affair, the one that took a turn for the worse at the Roseville Bridge.”

Francine took in a sharp breath. Though her grandmother had died when Francine was still a teen, the story of her grandmother's mother had never been accurately told to anyone as far as Francine knew. The family story was made up of rumor and innuendo. “She wrote down the details?”

“Yes, as her mother told the story to her. I find it an interesting coincidence that you were at the bridge earlier today. What were you doing there?”

Zed knew I was at the bridge? Does that mean he fired on me?
Though she had no intention of telling him the truth about why she was there, she was saved from having to create a lie because at that moment her cell phone rang. The women heard it and noticed them standing on the outside.

“We'll be back in in a moment,” he told them and pulled the door to the greenhouse closed. “Who's on the phone?” he asked.

Francine looked at the number. “My husband, Jonathan.”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “Answer it, and be sure to tell him I've been a proper host.”

She tried to regain her composure, but her fingers couldn't seem to push the green button to answer the phone. She stabbed at it twice. The phone continued to ring. She connected on the third try. She forced herself to relax, even as she saw the panicked look on the women's faces inside the greenhouse. They were all uncertain how to react to having the door closed on them. “Jonathan?” she said into the phone.

“Yeah, it's me,” he said. “I told you I would call back in a half hour if I didn't hear from you. You're still okay, right?”

“Yes, we're still at Zedediah's,” she said.

“And everything is okay?”

The women were staring at her from inside. She didn't know exactly what to say, but Zed was so near to her she decided to play along with him for now. Other than close the door, he hadn't made a threatening move. She motioned to her phone so they knew she was on it.

“He's been a good host. He just handed me my grandmother's diary.”

“It's different from the one William had on him?”

“Yes.”

Jonathan paused. “I guess it would have to be.”

“I think Zed and we are just about finished,” she said, giving Zed a quick smile to indicate she meant to leave soon. “He's just wrapping up a tour of his greenhouse, and then we'll be on our way. Shall we plan to meet in Rockville, then?”

“Is that a hint, or do you just want him to think I'm coming your way?”

“A little of both.”

“Call me when you've left.”

“I will.”

They said their
good-byes
and disconnected. Francine noticed the women were making their way toward the door. Francine put her hand on the knob. She hadn't seen Zed lock the door and hoped it would open to her touch.

He put her hand over hers. “You still don't trust me, do you?”

“Please let go of my hand.”

“So you don't trust me.” He took his hand away and held both of his up in a surrendering position. “The Roseville Bridge has secrets. I'm … protective of them. Perhaps one day you'll know and understand … I have something in the house that might convince you to trust me. I'll go get it. Here's the key to the greenhouse.” He handed it to her and strode quickly into the house.

Francine opened the greenhouse door. It had been unlocked, as she thought. Relieved, she joined the other women inside.

Then she heard a
pop
coming from Zed's home. She looked back.

And saw the wall of the kitchen where they had been sitting minutes ago explode.

eleven

Flames quickly engulfed the
side of the house facing them. The house was plunged into a small inferno.

“Oh my God!!” Alice exclaimed.

They stared out the greenhouse windows in shock. It felt like an eon to Francine, but it was surely only moments before someone said, “Call 911!” It was Charlotte.

“What about Zed?” Alice asked. “Where did he go?”

Francine's feet started moving. She hurried outside, pointing. “He went back in the house. I think he might have been in the kitchen when it exploded. He was moving fast, though. He might have made it into another room.”

The others followed. Charlotte grabbed at Francine's phone. “Aren't you going to call 911?” She managed to slip it out of Francine's possession. “What's your passcode? Have you changed it again?” She fumbled with the phone.

“I haven't. You just can't hold onto it. Let me do that.” Francine juggled the phone away from Charlotte. She punched in
9-1
-1, grateful the number was simple. Her hands were shaking too. Not much less than Charlotte's.

But there was nothing on the other end.

“I can't get a signal.”

Mary Ruth wrung her hands. “What happened?”

“The signal booster must have been located in the house, and we've lost the connection.”

“No, I mean what
happened
? What caused that
pop
sound, and then the fire?”

“How should I know?”

Francine felt someone prodding her from behind. She turned to find Alice swooping them forward with her arms.

“We need to get back to the car,” she told Francine.

“Is it safe to go past the house?” Mary Ruth asked. “It's on fire, for heaven's sake. The trees could go up next.”

“How else are we going to get out of here?”

“This way!” Merlina's voice sounded steady. They searched for where her voice had come. She was headed for the driveway, walking backward facing them, her hands beckoning them forward.

They followed. Merlina's costumed silhouette was framed by the fire. She looked like some kind of creature from a horror film.
But she's not afraid
, Francine thought.
And she's leading us to safety
.

Francine helped Charlotte along the gravel driveway. Merlina's path had them on the outer edge, as far from the house as they could get. Once they got past, they breathed a sigh of relief. But Merlina didn't slow down. “Keep coming,” she urged them.

“Easy for her to say,” Charlotte grumbled. “She's forty years younger.” But the complaint was hollow. Francine had a good grip on her, and the two of them scurried around the bend of the driveway toward Wheat Farm Road.

Alice was two steps ahead, her pant legs swishing together. She turned her head. “We can use William's OnStar to call 911. It has satellite reception, I'm pretty sure.”

“It does,” Francine said. It was a great idea.

But when they got to the hidden copse, the only car there was Francine's Prius. William's Buick was gone.

“Where's the car?!?” Alice flung her arms wildly as she danced around looking for it. “Someone took the car!”

Merlina grabbed Alice and took control of the situation. “It's going to be all right. We all came in Francine's car; we can all leave in Francine's car.”

Alice tried to pull away from her. “But how will we call the fire department? What happened back there? What will happen to us?”

Francine fed off Merlina's calm and not Alice's hysterics. She dug around in her purse for the key to the car. “We'll be just fine. Zed's house won't be. We need to head back to the Rock Run to get help.” She offered up a silent prayer for Zed. She hoped he survived. He might have been strange, he might have been dangerous, he might even have been guilty of what happened to William. But she wanted to hear him out. How did he know her grandmother? Why was he trying to make a connection with her? Was his version of the Doc Wheat legend true? And was he lying when he said he'd never found Doc Wheat's fortune?

Francine found the key and unlocked the car. They piled in, each in the seats they'd had before. Francine wound back to Wheat Farm Road and they took it toward CR 350W.

Only a minute down the road they saw rotating red lights ahead of them. Moments later they heard the piercing sound of a siren and saw a fire truck rushing toward them. Wheat Farm Road was narrow. Francine pulled to the side. The fire truck, a pumper truck emblazoned
Rosedale Volunteer Fire Department
whistled past.

She let out a breath. “I guess we don't have to worry about calling the fire in.”

“Makes me wonder who called it in, though,” Charlotte said. “There are no neighbors for miles.”

“Maybe it was Zed,” Mary Ruth said. “I hope so. He was a good amateur baker.”

Francine found herself answering grimly. “Let's not hope that's his epitaph.”

The women were silent. Francine didn't move. Finally, Charlotte said, “So, are we going?”

“I was thinking maybe we should go back and tell them what we saw,” Francine said.

“The firemen will be too busy to deal with us,” Mary Ruth said.

A sheriff's car, lights flashing and siren wailing, sped past them.

Charlotte's head swiveled as she watched it go by. “That was Joy's favorite detective in that car!”

“It did look like him,” Francine said. “He wears that distinctive Stetson. Maybe that's a sign we should go back.”

“No!” said Alice. “I don't want to go back!”

“If this were a John Wayne movie, someone would slap her,” Charlotte muttered in the front seat.

Two more sheriff's cars went blazing past.

“Alice, I think we should go back.” Francine said it gently.

“I'm beginning to think you're all voyeurs,” she retorted.

Just then, the Channel Six news van raced by.

“Now that's the sign we should go back,” Charlotte said. “Joy and her crew are in hot pursuit of the story. We should give her the exclusive.”

Francine groaned. “Really, Charlotte.
Hot
pursuit?”

“I do what I can,” she answered.

“I think it's all well and good that you want to give her a story,” Mary Ruth said, “but let's not forget that I have a business to run tomorrow. I need to get back to Rockville. I need a good night's sleep.
And
I have to get up early and do some baking. That's a caterer's life.”

Marcy's SUV came barreling down the road next. She passed Francine's car and left it in the dust.

“There's your answer,” Merlina said, as though she had divined it. “You can borrow Aunt Marcy's car, and she can ride home with us.”

No one objected as Francine did a
three-point
turn and headed back to Zed's house.

Before they reached the scene of the fire, they encountered a blockade being set in place. A sheriff's car straddled both lanes of the narrow road, lights flashing, preventing anyone from getting past. That included the Channel Six van, which was pulled to the side of the road, and Marcy's car, which was behind it. Marcy was out of the car and arguing with the deputy, a tall, thin young man who looked like he needed to grow into his sheriff's outfit. There was no sign of the Channel Six crew.

The young deputy wielded a flashlight. It was then Francine realized the sun was getting low in the sky and she checked her watch. It was nearly six thirty. The deputy used his flashlight to indicate that Francine should turn around and head in the direction she'd just come.

She couldn't see the fire because of the trees, but the smoke drifting through the air was convincing evidence of the battle the firemen were waging down the driveway and to the right.

Francine wondered about the Rosedale Volunteer Fire Department. This was probably out of their league, especially coming on the heels of the Roseville Bridge fire. She hadn't seen a pond or any kind of water near the house, which was too bad. They would need a bigger source of water to battle the blaze. She wagered more emergency vehicles from throughout the county would soon be on their way here.

She rolled down her window as the deputy walked up to the car.

“We need for you to move your car, ma'am. You can't get through, and we need to keep this access clear for additional emergency personnel. Please turn around.”

Francine thought fast. “Where's the Channel Six crew? We're looking for our friend Joy McQueen. We have some important information for her.”

“We've set up a second barrier for the press that's a little closer to the scene.”

“Can we go down there?”

He shook his head.

“Already tried,” said Marcy.

“What if I told you the important information I have for her?”

“Unless you have important information for either the fire department or the sheriff's department, and I doubt that, you need to turn around and go back.”

Francine opened her mouth to say something, but just then Mary Ruth leaned up from the back seat and put her hand on Francine's shoulder. “Be careful what you tell him. We don't want to end up at headquarters being questioned. That would only delay getting me back to Rockville.”

Though Mary Ruth had clearly not intended it, the deputy heard every word. “Do I understand you ladies know something about this fire?”

Choruses of “yes” and “no” sounded once, then twice, with some of the voices changing their response. The deputy stared suspiciously. “So which is it?”

Charlotte cleared her throat. Everyone looked at her. “Some of us know something, and some of us don't.”

“Which ones of you know something, and what is it that you know?”

“I don't know anything,” Mary Ruth said. “In fact, I barely know these people.” She sat on the passenger side of the back seat. She opened the door and got out. Marcy loomed behind the deputy. Mary Ruth pointed at her. “But her, I know. She's my publicist. She's getting ready to take me home.”

Marcy looked more like she was getting ready to make a run for it toward the fire, where Joy was presumably broadcasting. But that got her attention.

“I'm your publicist?” Then, in a more affirmative tone, “I'm her publicist.” She used her thumb to point to herself. “Yep. That would be me.”

“And you are preparing to take me back to Rockville.”

Now she frowned.

“Because,” Mary Ruth continued, “we need to finish strategizing on how we are going to meet the demand for our corn fritter donuts in the morning.”

“I thought I recognized you,” the deputy said. “You're the caterer, one of the
Skinny-Dipping
Grandmas.” He bent over and peered into the car. He examined their faces. “In fact, you're all Skinny-
Dipping Grandmas.”

“Not quite,” Merlina said. “I'm not old enough to be a Skinny-
Dipping Grandma. Though I aspire to be some day.”

“So,” Charlotte said, “with the exception of Mary Ruth and Marcy, who were just leaving, the rest of us have knowledge of how that fire started.”

“Don't throw me in that group,” Alice said. “You're on your own.” She got out of the car and joined Mary Ruth and Marcy. “I'm her business partner. I don't know anything, either.”

The deputy looked confused, but in the end, Mary Ruth, Alice, and Marcy were allowed to get into the SUV and leave. The deputy called for Detective Stockton, who walked back from the scene of the fire in about five minutes. Francine and Charlotte were still in the car. Stockton and the deputy stepped away and had a few words.

Stockton walked up to the car. “So, do I understand that you ladies started the day at the Roseville Bridge, where a man was shot at, and which burned down this afternoon, and now you have firsthand knowledge of this second fire of the day?”

“We get around,” said Charlotte.

“Yes, you do.”

Before they could say any more, additional emergency vehicles came screaming to a stop on Wheat Farm Road. In the space of ten minutes, Francine counted three fire trucks from neighboring departments, two additional sheriff's cars, and a state police car.

The fire trucks were directed around the blockade. The deputies left their vehicles and were sent to the scene for assignments. The state policeman walked with a swagger, ignored Stockton completely, and headed down the driveway toward the fire, exuding
self-importance
.

“Well,” said Charlotte, “I sense tension.”

Stockton returned to the car. “You can get out now.”

They both started to get out.

“One at a time, please. I want to interview you independently.” He pulled a notepad out of his front pocket.

Charlotte was the first one out, which was fine with Francine. She hoped Charlotte would wear him out and when it got to her, she would be able to avoid divulging any of the personal details Zed had revealed—especially the appearance of the second diary, which Charlotte didn't know about yet.

When it was finally her turn, Stockton didn't make Charlotte get back in the car, but he told her she needed to be quiet. Francine focused on what happened after Zed went back in the house. She told of the popping noise, which only she had heard since the others had been behind the closed door to the greenhouse. She said the fire started immediately after.

“What color was the fire?” Stockton asked.

“Color? I don't know.”

“It was a blue fire,” Charlotte said. “Definitely blue.”

“I told you to be quiet,” Stockton said.

Francine crossed her arms. “What does color have to do with anything?”

“It reveals what accelerant might have been used by the arsonist,” Charlotte said. “Blue would indicate gasoline.”