Murder on Calf Lick Fork Page 3

  “Hey,” Luke said, “what’s wrong? Why are you upset?”

  “I’m not upset.” Maggie blew her nose. “This movie’s message is just so beautiful that it makes me cry. Ah, what am I saying? Christmas in general makes me nostalgic and emotional. Despite the cold, this evening I stood in my parents’ yard staring at the Christmas lights until Daddy hollered at me to come in. And the sight of the icicles on Mom’s tree always turns me into a puddle.”

  “Icicles? You mean your mom puts ice on her Christmas tree? How does that work? Does she have to wait for snow to melt or does she somehow make her own icicles?”

  “No, Luke, my mom does not put ice on her tree. That would be stupid. Besides, it wouldn’t even work. The icicles would start melting as soon as you brought them inside the house. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen icicles. They’re little strips of aluminum. It’s so pretty to see the lights reflect off them. I’d put them on my tree, but I can’t tempt Barnaby. I’m afraid he would try to eat them.”

  “Those aren’t called icicles. They’re tinsel.”

  “You folks from central Kentucky can call it tinsel and those of us in the eastern part of the state will call them icicles.”

  “That sounds like a deal to me.” Luke kissed the top of her head. “What did you do today?”

  “Well, I had vegetable soup for supper at my parents’ house.”

  “Your mom’s homemade vegetable soup?”

  “Is there any other?”

  “Your supper sounds better than the can of spaghetti and meatballs I warmed in the microwave.”

  “Oh, that sounds good, too, but the soup was delicious.”

  “I’ve never had your mom’s vegetable soup, but I’m sure she made it with those garden vegetables she canned this summer.”

  “Yep. She used corn and peas and potatoes and thinly-sliced onions and tomato juice, all from the garden. And don’t forget the meat.”

  “She puts meat in her soup?”

  “Hamburger meat from a home-raised beef.”

  Luke frowned. “A warm bowl of soup would have hit the spot on a cold day like today.”

  “It’s going to be cold tomorrow, too,” Maggie turned so she was facing Luke, “so you should check your fridge.”

  Luke’s blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of his living room. “Did you sneak some soup into my fridge?”

  “Perhaps.” Maggie accepted a kiss from him. “I brought a bowl for you and one for me, too.”

  “One for you?” Luke asked. “You don’t eat this late in the evening.”

  “No, but I have to eat something for lunch tomorrow.” She watched at the realization spread across his face. “It had already started snowing when I left the house. For all we know, there could be a skiff of snow on the roads. It would be foolish and dangerous for me to try to make it back to Sugar Creek tonight.”

  “I agree. I can’t let you put yourself in danger.”

  They shared a laugh and embraced and Maggie laid her head on his shoulder. She cherished the moment before taking a deep breath and sharing the details of her visits to Sylvie’s and Gentry’s. “So, I’ve decided to do a little digging around and see if I can find out what happened to Jay.” When Luke didn’t respond, Maggie lifted her head and asked, “What do you think?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, I think you should find a less stressful and dangerous hobby.”

  “Wow.” Maggie sat forward and moved inches away from Luke. “Don’t hold back.”

  “You asked for my opinion, and I’m not going to pretend to like this.”

  “I appreciate your honesty, but I’d also like your support.”

  Luke clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. “You have my support and I’ll help if I can. But please don’t shut me out and please don’t go running to Seth.”

  Maggie jerked her hand away from him. “Now I understand where this is coming from. It’s all about Seth.”

  “Look at it from my perspective. Everything is fine between us until he insinuates himself into one of your investigations.”

  Maggie massaged her forehead and thought back to that summer day on the sidewalk when Seth confirmed to her that Luke’s suspicions of him might be based in reality. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m not going to contact Seth.”

  “And if he contacts you?”

  “I’ll politely decline his assistance. Besides, Seth is a Jasper city detective and Jay Harris was a college student who lived in the county. What connection could they possibly have?”

  Chapter Five

  Unease washed over Maggie when the receptionist directed her to a chapel in the Valley View Funeral Home. Maggie had assumed she would meet with Steve Fletcher in his office. She also assumed the chapel would be ready for a viewing and she didn’t want to talk to Steve with an occupied casket hovering in the background. But her worries evaporated as soon as she eased into the chapel. No artificial flowers assaulted her senses and, most important, no casket commanded her attention.

  She selected a cushioned seat about one-third of the way into the room and produced a notepad, a pen, and a recorder from her purse. As she waited for Steve, she took in her surroundings. If not for Biblical paintings looking down from the walls, the chapel could have been mistaken for the area in a municipal building in which public forums are held.

  Despite the generic decorations, Maggie knew the purpose of this chapel and of this building. She knew they held memories of overwhelming grief and final goodbyes. She acknowledged that society needed people such as funeral directors, homicide detectives, and hospice nurses. She also recognized her own fascination with true crime. Still, she hoped she never became immune to death and suffering.

  Steve Fletcher walked through the door, saving Maggie from further introspection. She made a move to stand, but he motioned for her to remain sitting and took a chair beside hers. Extending his hand, he said, “I’ve spoken with you many times over the phone and through email, but I think this is the first time we’ve met. I’m glad I’m finally getting to talk to you in person.”

  “It’s good to finally put a face to your name, too,” Maggie said. “And I’d like to thank you for always submitting the funeral home’s obituaries via email. You wouldn’t believe the number of funeral homes near and far that have yet to embrace technology.”

  “I’m afraid you’re thanking the wrong person. Our receptionist and my wife, Carrie, take care of that. If it wasn’t for them, you’d be forced to decipher my poor handwriting. You know, there were times back in the old days when I had to call your predecessor and read the obituaries to her. After she typed them up, she’d read them back to me.”

  “I remember life in the dark ages and that’s why I’m grateful for the convenience provided by computers and the Internet,” Maggie said before adding, “and DVRs.”

  “And cell phones. Don’t forget cell phones.” Steve’s smiling face quickly turned solemn. “On the phone, you said you wanted to talk about Jay. I understand Gentry has asked you to look into his disappearance.”

  “That’s right.” Maggie opened her notepad. “Gentry suggested I start with you. How long had Jay been working for you?”

  Maggie studied Steve. Earlier, when he had walked into the chapel wearing a dark blue suit and with his thinning light-colored hair combed over, he had met her stereotype of a quiet, humorless funeral director. But sitting there talking with much animation about Jay, with one arm draped over the back of his chair and the other holding a University of Kentucky tumbler, Maggie decided he could be mistaken for a salesman or a lawyer.

  “I’d have to consult my records to give you his start date,” Steve said, “but it wasn’t too long after he moved down here. Ours is a family business. My granddad started it and he passed it down through my mother to me. Gentry worked for us back when we hand-dug graves. And let me tell you, Gentry was, well is, the best.”

  “That’s what I’v
e heard,” Maggie said.

  “When we moved to machinery, we kept him on as a laborer. He picked up odd jobs here and there and dug graves on his own time, but it didn’t interfere with his work.” Steve laughed. “I guess I’m making a short story long, but it’s just that, for as long as I can remember, Gentry has been associated with Valley View Funeral Home. So, when he asked us to give Jay a chance, we felt obliged to do so.”

  “How would you describe Jay’s work ethic?”

  “In a word – excellent.” Steve took a drink from his tumbler and said, “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll take some water.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ll be right back.” It seemed to Maggie that Steve had no more left than he returned. “Carrie’s going to bring you some water,” he said. Settling back into a chair, he asked himself, “What was I saying? Oh, yeah, Jay. He was a wonderful employee. I shouldn’t have had misgivings, him being Gentry’s grandson, but …” He sighed. “I know this is going to make me sound like an old geezer, but the younger generation doesn’t have the same get-up-and-go that we have. Not that I’m lumping you in with my age range.” Maggie waved off Steve’s concern and he continued, “Trust me, I know. I have three sons. Two are not much older than Jay and the other one’s a little younger. They’re good boys, but I guess they’re just spoiled. It’s a good thing the older two are smart because they’d never survive working manual labor. And the younger one’s thumbs are going to fall off it he doesn’t quit texting and playing video games.” Steve laughed at his own joke before falling silent. “But Jay was different. He was a good worker and he seemed to appreciate everything Gentry did for him. He was taking advantage of all the opportunities that had come his way. I guess you could describe him as ambitious.”

  “According to Gentry, Jay left for work one day, but never made it home. Did he come to work the day he disappeared?”

  “No, and I thought that was odd. He never missed a day’s work. And it was busy that week. We had a couple funerals. It wasn’t like Jay to blow off work, so I decided he must have told me he needed the day off and then I had forgotten it.” Steve grinned. “I told you I was an old geezer. Well, we old geezers have trouble remembering.” Steve’s grin faded. “When Gentry called the next day, I knew something was wrong. I felt really guilty for not contacting Gentry the minute Jay was late for work. Maybe that would have made all the difference.”

  “How did Jay get along with his co-workers?”

  “If anybody had a problem with him, I didn’t know about it. He was a friendly, outgoing boy and he was always willing to jump in and help.”

  Maggie heard movement behind her and turned to see a woman with a baby in her arms and a bottle of water dangling from her hand.

  Steve beamed. “There are my girls.” He held his hands out to take the baby while his wife handed the water to Maggie. “Like I told you, my boys are grown. Heck, one of them is engaged. I’m an old man –”

  “You’re not that old,” his wife said, shaking her head.

  “I’m older than you and a card-carrying member of AARP,” Steve said before whispering to Maggie, “she’s my second wife.” In a louder voice, he added, “I thought I was going to have to wait on grandchildren to get a girl. I never counted on getting a little miracle at my age.”

  “That just goes to show that you never know what turns your life will take.” Turning her attention from her husband to Maggie, Steve’s wife said, “I’m Carrie, by the way. I hope he’s not talking your ear off.”

  “She says I talk too much,” Steve said.

  “That’s because you do talk too much,” Carrie said.

  Maggie, who had been staring at Carrie, said, “You look so familiar to me, but I can’t place you.”

  “I think we went to the same school,” Carrie said. “I recognize your name.”

  Maggie’s mind traveled back twenty-odd years to a school building that always smelled of fresh paint. Her memory finally conjured up a photo of a teenage and dark-haired Carrie, smiling and waving atop a convertible and looking resplendent in a plum-colored suit and black hat. Her hair was blonde now and Maggie speculated she had gone lighter to cover up gray. She had put on a few pounds, too, and laugh lines and crow’s feet creased the face that had radiated youth all those years ago. “Oh, yeah,” Maggie said. “You were the homecoming queen when I was –”

  “In junior high,” Carrie said. “That’s right. I’m a forty-year-old new mom. Crazy, right?”

  Maggie, who couldn’t imagine having a child at any age, said, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Neither would I,” Steve agreed. Nuzzling his face in the baby’s neck, he said, “She’s a beautiful blessing.”

  “Yes, she is,” Carrie said.

  The couple shared a silent, tender moment before Carrie said, “I used the word crazy only because I have a teenage son from my first marriage and Steve has two sons from his first marriage who are in their twenties. We had raised our kids. They’re grown and now they have a much younger baby sister. I repeat, a much younger baby sister. It’s crazy.”

  “Does this look crazy to you?” Steve turned the baby in his arms so Maggie could see her. “Do you want to hold her?”

  Maggie did not want to hold Steve and Carrie’s daughter or any baby for that matter. Although she always complimented parents on their beautiful bundles of joy, she had been born without the gene that compelled other women to dote on stranger’s infants. She made exceptions for some babies, toddlers, and children, including her nephews, but for the most part, she preferred dogs. “She looks so peaceful in your arms,” she said to Steve. “I wouldn’t want to disturb her.”

  “Then I guess Daddy will keep her,” Steve cooed to the baby.

  Maggie cleared her throat and said to Carrie, “In case Steve didn’t tell you, I’m here to find out more about Jay Harris. What can you tell me about him?”

  Carrie echoed her husband’s assessment of Jay’s work ethic and personality and added, “I didn’t know Jay as well as Steve did, but I cannot imagine why anyone would want to hurt him. He was nice and he never caused any problems. I’m more inclined to think he left.”

  “‘More inclined?’ What does that mean?”

  “She’s directing that at me.” Steve rocked the yawning baby in his arms. “I don’t want to think that any harm came to Jay, but I don’t think he would have walked out on Gentry or intentionally hurt his mother by disappearing without a word.”

  “Is that why you went to the police with Gentry?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes. I hoped it would provide him with some answers, with some closure. I’ll do anything I can to help Gentry.”

  Maggie looked to Carrie. “If Jay did take off, where do you think he would have gone?”

  Carrie’s eyes widened. “My conversations with Jay primarily involved telling him where to move furniture and place flowers. We weren’t exactly friends.”

  “Did Jay seem troubled around the time of his disappearance? Was he having problems with anyone?” Maggie asked the couple.

  Carrie shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “I wouldn’t have any idea about that, either.” Steve brushed the baby’s cheek and said, “He seemed to really enjoy living here. He appreciated the natural beauty of the area. Most young people, well, most people in general, don’t even seem to notice they’re living amongst such beauty. But that was something else that set Jay apart from kids his age. He was a thinker. I guess it came from losing Junior, but he had empathy for the families we served.” Steve made a clicking sound with his tongue. “He had a good home life with Gentry, he was going to school, and I know he liked his job. He had a good life in front of him. It doesn’t seem right.”

  “When you say he liked his job, I assume you’re talking about his job here. What about his other job? Gentry said Jay worked at Curtis Moore’s butcher shop.”

  Steve quit rocking the baby and
directed a confused look toward Maggie. “Oh, I guess Jay hadn’t told Gentry, but Curtis fired him a week or so before he went missing.”

  Chapter Six

  Maggie had grown up around animals. In addition to a succession of family dogs and an occasional stray cat that made its home in the head of Caldonia Road, hogs wallowed in pens, chickens crowded coops, cattle grazed on the hill, and a horse stood in a stall. Although Maggie made friends with every animal that spent significant time on the Morgan family property, she accepted that the hog that rooted around on Monday could become breakfast by Sunday. She was as accustomed to that fact as she was to the reality that once animals entered a shed on the upper end of the property, they would never return. She had also consumed her share of squirrel and rabbit and remembered with fondness the chilly autumn mornings she had waited on the porch for her dad to return from a hunting excursion in the hills. Even without closing her eyes, she could see him walking down the road with his game attached to an oversized safety pin he had fastened to his pants.

  Maggie the dog owner and animal lover had no problem reconciling these aspects of her life. She lived under no illusions concerning where her food originated. Still, the raw meat she fashioned into cooked meals represented the only contact she wanted with butchered animals. Although she needed to talk to Curtis Moore, she did not want to visit his meat packing shop on her own. No matter what confronted her at Curtis’ shop, she knew she would handle it better with her dad by her side.

  Curtis Moore came to the door with a blood-stained white apron tied around his immense belly. “I didn’t expect to see you at my door,” he said to Robert. “Last time I talked to your brother, he informed me that my services were no longer needed. He said you all were taking your business to an outfit on Sugar Creek.”