Murder Under the Covered Bridge (4 page)

Francine didn't know whether to be flattered that he recognized the name or alarmed because this could lead to more questions and further delays.

“It's been a long time since my father sold the farm and moved us to Evansville. I'm surprised you remember.”

Stockton eased the front two legs of his chair back on the floor. “Our memories are long in Parke County. Being from here, you should know that.”

Joy drummed her fingers on her forearm. She gave Francine a glance that Francine interpreted as
Hurry this along.

Stockton noticed the gesture. “Mrs. McQueen, I enjoy your reports on senior citizens, but that gives me reason to be concerned. I saw you filming a bit when I got here. Do you plan to report on what happened?”

“I expect the station will ask me, but I haven't heard that. There's no cell reception around here.”

“So you haven't called it in? How much footage did you get of the incident?”

Joy's back straightened. “I got most of Jonathan's rescue. I don't know how good it is. Why?”

She knows why
, Francine thought.

He leaned forward. “We're going to want it.”

“I'm confident I don't have to give that up right away. But I'd be happy to make a copy of it for you.”

“I could confiscate the camera right now.”

“Please don't.” She took a conciliatory stance. “Look, we really need to get back to Rockville. You have our statements. Can't we leave?”

“Not until your friend finishes.”

They all looked at Charlotte, who was now on her third page. She shrugged. “I'm good at remembering details. Plus, I'm giving them suggestions on how they should investigate it.”

Joy exhaled noisily. “I'm confident Detective Stockton has had a lot of experience and knows how to run an investigation.”

“Thank you,” he said.

Francine knew Alice didn't do well under pressure, and Toby was not always the help he should be. They really did need to get to Rockville. “I'm sure Charlotte's finishing up right now.” She said the last two words through gritted teeth.

“No more than five more minutes,” Charlotte replied.

Francine had an idea. “Perhaps Charlotte can ride in the carriage with Jonathan back to the horse barn and then come to Rockville with him in his car. That would enable the rest of us to leave right away.” She knew Jonathan and Charlotte chafed at each other when they spent too much time together. Both would hate it if she weren't there to keep the peace.

Stockton checked Joy's form. “Is this your cell phone number so I can get hold of you?”

“Yes. If you can find a place with cell coverage.”

“You may come to appreciate our area,” he said. “But in the meantime, you can go.”

“Well, look at that,” Charlotte said. “I just finished.”

Jonathan smiled. “Good. Then I'll just head back to the barn by myself.” He gathered up his costume clothes, gave Francine a quick kiss, and left.

The rest of the group rushed to gather up their belongings. Charlotte snatched a cinnamon roll to take with her. “Those things are pretty sticky,” Joy said. “I don't want sticky fingerprints all over my seats. Put it back.”

Charlotte frowned. “But I haven't had one yet.”

“That's what you get for giving the detective so much advice.” Joy winked at Stockton.

Charlotte defiantly took a bite and chewed slowly. “Then we'll just have to stand here until I finish it, won't we,” she said with her mouth full, “now that Jonathan's gone.”

“I'm sure I can still catch him.” Joy's comment made the detective laugh.

Francine handed Charlotte a napkin. “Wrap it up in this. I've got wet wipes in my purse.”

Charlotte set her mouth. “I don't know. I'm kind of messy.”

“You'll likely have it finished before you reach the car,” Marcy said.

That's for sure
, Francine thought.

Charlotte reached for her cane as Marcy and Joy headed out the door. Francine juggled her costume but still managed to hurry Charlotte out of the restaurant, the bell above the exit ringing as the door slammed shut behind them.

four

“The sheriff thinks Joy
is cute,” Charlotte said, almost in a sing-song voice.

Francine hung back with Charlotte, who was making slow going. They'd just entered the covered bridge while Joy, Marcy, and Jonathan were almost out the other end.

“You mentioned that already.” Francine tried not to sound annoyed, but she was fairly confident Charlotte would read through all that. She was annoyed not only because Charlotte was trumpeting the flirtation between Joy and the detective, but also because she knew—they all knew—Charlotte could walk faster than she let on. For the most part, they all played along. But Charlotte was seriously slow right now.

“Don't you think it's about time she started dating again?” Charlotte asked.

“I do, but don't think I'm going to stand by and let you ruin that relationship, if any develops, just because you want in on what happened to my cousin William.”

“Me? I wouldn't get involved in Joy's relationships. Why would you even think that?” Charlotte winced as she put her weight on one of her knees.

Francine considered that perhaps all the walking they'd done, especially on the uneven ground at the top of the creek bank, actually was taking its toll. She resolved to be more charitable. But she still found herself annoyed. “Because you already offered to ‘help' the sheriff several times, that's why.” Francine crossed her arms. “And we both know you can't resist a mystery.”

Charlotte let a beat go by. “It's on her Sixty List.”

There was some interpretation to be made as to what exactly Joy's bucket list item meant.
#5 Romance!
was all it said. Between themselves, without Joy around, they'd debated it. The general consensus was that Joy eventually wanted to date again, but it had been a long, long time since her husband, Bruno, had left her for another man. The scars lingered. Shortly after the divorce, she'd dated a few men—losers, according to the Summer Ridge Bridge Club—and she retreated into the shell she'd now been in for more than a decade. It was only with the Friederich Guttmann Incident and her new role as a reporter that she'd started reclaiming the vivacious person she once was.

“That doesn't mean you wouldn't be above using her to get what you wanted.”

Charlotte didn't respond but stopped near the window through which they'd been fired upon. She looked out. “One of the bullets came in through this window perpendicularly and hit the light stand.” She showed the direction the bullet must have traveled.

Francine's eyes followed to where Charlotte's hand pointed. “So?”

“So, that means one of the shooters was located down the creek bank, not in the cornfield. Otherwise, it would have come through
at a slant and gone the long way down the bridge before it hit anything.”

Francine thought about that. “That would make sense, because the second bullet that came in through the window went straight out the other side.” She walked the width of the bridge to where the bullet had exited, leaving behind splintered wood.

“That means they were shooting at us, not William.”

A chill went down Francine's spine. “You're right.”

“Why did they fire on us?”

“Because we could see what was happening to William?”

“Maybe.” Charlotte stuck her head out the window. She looked toward the cornfield to the left and then the Rock Run on the right. “At one point the two rifles were firing almost simultaneously. But someone at that distance along the creek bank wouldn't be able to see William in the cornfield, would they?” She pointed to a spot hundreds of yards upstream.

Francine looked out the window, trying to judge the trajectory of the bullet that had hit the light stand. “I agree. They probably would have been out there where the creek makes a bend.”

“Why was the other person stationed there?”

That didn't seem like a difficult question. “Because they couldn't be sure which way William would run out of the cornfield.”

Charlotte gave a protracted sigh.

“You don't like that answer?”

“No, it's an okay answer. But the second shooter had a much cleaner bead on William. Yet he wasn't hit.”

“If the second shooter wasn't after William, what was he after?”

“Good question. Was William sneaking out or sneaking in when he was discovered? If he was sneaking in, he might have surprised one shooter, but not two. Unless they knew he was there. Otherwise, they wouldn't have had time to set up in two different locations. They would have both shot at William from the same direction.”

Francine looked down at her short friend. “You're getting at something, Charlotte. Just say it.”

“I'm just theorizing here.” She limped to the spot in the bridge where they had done the photo shoot. “William ran toward this bridge. He must have done that for a reason, wherever he was coming from. Suppose it was our presence that surprised the second shooter? What was it we were seeing that he or she didn't want us to see?”

Francine took a moment to scan the immediate area looking for clues. The light around the window was better now that the sun was higher in the sky. She was so caught up in looking for clues she forgot they were on their way to the car to join Joy and Marcy. She was jolted back into the present with the noise of the horse and carriage entering the bridge.

Jonathan hailed her from the carriage driver's seat. “What's keeping you two? Joy and Marcy are getting impatient.”

Francine and Charlotte moved out of his way. Jonathan pulled up beside them and handed a book the size of a small paperback to Francine. She recognized it as the book he'd pulled out of William's pocket. “I forgot to give this to the fireman,” he said. “I meant to give it to the detective, but by the time I'd finished his witness form I'd forgotten again. It fell out of my clothes when I tossed them in the back of the carriage. You might want to look at it before you do anything with it, though. If I read the first page right, it's your grandmother's journal.”

Francine stared at the cover. She knew her grandmother had been quite the journalist. She remembered watching her write an entry once, using a
loose-leaf
sheet of paper as a guide to keep her penmanship level across the page. Francine had been seven at the time her grandmother passed away. She hadn't seen any of the journals when the family went through her house.

But what struck her about the book was the cover.

“I know I've seen this graphic before,” she said.

“Of course you have,” Charlotte said. “It's a heart pierced by an arrow. There are probably thousands of them carved into trees all over Parke County. There's probably fifty in the graffiti on this bridge.”

“As observant as you are, you haven't noticed that there's very little graffiti on the bridge?”

Jonathan snapped the reins on the horse and the carriage started moving again. “I'll leave you ladies to battle that out, but I wouldn't do it for very long. You need to get back to Rockville.”

As Jonathan left, Charlotte moved toward the window. “I know we need to leave, but you're right. For as remotely located as this bridge is, there's almost no graffiti.”

“Maybe someone comes along and cleans it up.”

Charlotte indicated the sides of the bridge nearest them. “You could cover up spray paint with other paints, but you couldn't cover up carvings, and I don't see a lot of paint or carvings. Where did you see this heart and arrow?”

Francine pointed at a spot directly below them. “There.” The beams that ran parallel to the river holding up the bridge were beyond their ability to reach, but they could see what was on the one below the window. “The graphic is a heart pierced by an arrow. I spotted it when we were crouched below the window with Jonathan.”

Charlotte was skeptical. “I don't know. It seems pretty crude.”

Francine juggled the costume she was carrying and pulled out her cell phone. She used the flashlight app to shine a light on the beam. “Look at the arrow. There are three vertical slashes on the back end of the arrow, just like on the journal.”

“You're right. Better take a photo.”

Francine turned off the light beam and switched on the photo app. She snapped a picture.

Joy's SUV entered the bridge noisily, startling Charlotte and Francine. She beeped the horn and rolled down her window as they approached them. “Get in or we'll leave you behind,” Joy said.

The two women threw their stuff in the back seat.

“I'll give you this,” Charlotte told Francine. “Those wooden beams are pretty old. The graffiti engraved in that wood could go way back.”

Marcy turned around from the front seat. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” they said at the same time.

“Now you've got me curious. Francine, what was it you were taking a photo of ?”

“Graffiti. Could be something, probably not. We'll worry about it later.”

Charlotte buckled in. “Could you get some heat going in this car?”

“It's trying,” Joy said. “Soon as the engine warms up, I'll put the heater on full blast.”

Joy took the bridge at a slow pace, but once they were on CR 350W, she got her speed up as fast as she could.

Francine turned around to look back at the Rock Run Café & Bakery. There were still a few sheriffs' cars in the parking lot. “I hope William's all right. I wonder where they took him.”

“You won't find out till we get back to Rockville and can make a call.” Marcy sounded disgusted. “You remember there's no cell service out here.”

“How could I forget? I hope the detective is able to find the person who was shooting at him quickly before this gets pushed to the back burner.”

“I'm confident he will,” Joy said. “I'll be following up on this as a reporter, so I'll keep the pressure on him.”

The car got quiet. “What?” Joy asked.

“Nothing,” Charlotte said. Francine could see her smirking. She wondered if Marcy was doing the same.

Joy continued, “Plus, he used to be the sheriff, so he knows what he's doing. Don't you think he looks like a sheriff ?”

They could all agree on that.

“I think what Francine is saying,” Charlotte said, “is that if William turns out to be okay, and we hope so, there will be other things to keep the sheriff busy. With none of the rest of us hurt and tourists flocking to Parke County like lawyers to a
twenty-car
pileup, this could drop off his radar in no time.”

Joy and Marcy started discussing television, which always bored Francine. She slipped the journal Jonathan had given her out of her stash of costume clothing and examined it. When she'd looked at it back at the bridge, there hadn't been a lot of light. Now she saw more detail than she had before. The front cover had been blank, but her grandmother had
stenciled
the drawing on it.
That means this is a pattern of some kind,
Francine thought. She briefly wondered if it were simply a popular symbol of the times. Maybe she'd put too much stake in the similarity to the graffiti she'd seen carved into the beam of the bridge.

“What's in the diary?” Charlotte asked.

Francine suddenly realized she couldn't possibly do this with Charlotte around. She'd have to share it, and since it was her grandmother's, she didn't want to. Not yet.

“Nothing, really.” She put it in the pocket of the raincoat. She'd look at it later.