The Cemetery Club

  Chapter 15

  After the drive to Uvalda and the visit with Emma, exercise sounded like a good idea. I hoped that increased blood flow and a fresh supply of oxygen would clear my brain of all but the essential facts, the pertinent parts of this mystery. Slipping on my oldest, most faded blue jeans, and a red T-shirt, I went to the storage shed behind the house. I pulled out Mom’s gardening gloves, a spade, and some snippers. Taking a page from Emma James’s playbook, I hadn’t bothered with shoes. The grass felt cool and comfortable under my bare feet.

  A few weeds dared to raise their heads among the peonies by the front gate. That would never do! Getting down on my knees, I began pulling up those offensive upstarts, and before long, the pile of weeds had grown to a respectable height. My muscles complained about the sudden exercise, the sun was as relaxing as a heat lamp as it beat down on my back and head, and I felt a nap coming on. I deserved it! Leaning back against the fence under the peonies, I closed my eyes.

  I slept and dreamed. In my dream, the fragrance of flowers surrounded me and I stood by the gate, watching someone walk up the street toward me. I knew the figure was a man, but I could not see his face clearly; however, I certainly welcomed him and couldn’t wait for him to reach me. The person must be Jake, I decided. Jake had come back to me. At that moment, the gate squeaked and a voice spoke. My dream evaporated like a mist.

  “Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”

  My eyes popped open and I saw scuffed brown cowboy boots. My gaze traveled upward over snug blue jeans and a short-sleeved blue-checked shirt, to a smiling face topped by a white Stetson hat.

  Shading my eyes, I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “Oh! You’re not Jake.”

  Grant’s smile disappeared. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Squirming uncomfortably, I glanced down at my bare feet sticking out in front of me. Dirt smudged my arms, but it was too late to run into the house and wash up. I must look a sight.

  “Grant, you didn’t disappoint me. Um, I mean . . . I didn’t know you were coming.”

  His grin returned. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. You look relaxed.”

  Had my mouth hung open in my sleep? Had I drooled? Quickly wiping my face, I realized too late that I still wore Mom’s dirty gardening gloves.

  “Don’t get up,” Grant said. “I’ll sit here on the grass. I just wanted to talk to you or Miss Flora about these murders. I can talk as well out here as in the house.”

  He dropped his hat to the ground, and sat facing me. To my disgust, my heart began to beat faster. What a shallow person I must be. Jake had not been gone a year and here I was feeling drawn to an old flame. I scooted back to put some distance between us.

  Grant broke off a grass stem and absentmindedly rubbed it between his fingers. “Have you had any more encounters with bad guys? Any prowlers? Any suspicious people hanging around?”

  Jasper Harris popped to mind, but Mom and I had decided to keep his moonlit visit to ourselves. Jasper couldn’t really be considered a prowler. He wasn’t prowling, just lurking.

  “Darcy?”

  “Prowlers,” I repeated. “No. No prowlers. We have a new burglar alarm system. That makes us feel safer.”

  Grant flipped the blade of grass toward the sidewalk. “Glad to hear it. You would have called if anything had happened to scare you. Right?”

  “Sure. You can count on that. Thankfully, we’ve been comparatively fright-free.”

  Never had I seen anybody with more piercing blue eyes than Grant Hendley. They seemed to probe my guilty thoughts. Quietly, he asked, “So, what’s going on, Darcy?”

  Had he seen into the depths of my secretive soul? Did he know that I was being a little less than honest?

  “I don’t think I know what you mean, Grant,” I muttered.

  “Sure you do. I remember you well, Darcy. I have never met anybody who is as nosy as you are. If there’s something you don’t understand, you won’t be happy until you ferret it out. You’d never be any good at playing poker.”

  Nosy? Curiosity and a healthy interest in seeking the truth should never be misconstrued. This man could irritate me like no other.

  “I don’t remember that you were quite so blunt when we were in high school, Grant. Didn’t that law education include a class in diplomacy? Ferret out? Aren’t ferrets those sneaky little weasels?”

  He actually laughed. “Now, don’t get your back up, Darcy. I just want to be sure you’re telling me everything you know about Ben’s death and that so-called cache of gold. You’ve been poking around, and don’t deny it. You wouldn’t be you, if you didn’t. I’d sure hate to think, though, that you’re withholding information and obstructing justice.”

  Knowing that my eyes squinched up and my forehead wrinkled when I frowned, I frowned anyway. “So, are you going to haul me off to jail, Sheriff?”

  Chuckling, he said, “Now that would be just plain silly, wouldn’t it? No, I’m just wondering if you’ve glimpsed Ray Drake, the person the good folk in Chicago call Cub Mathers. He seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  “If I had seen him, believe me, you’d be the first to know. People like Drake seem to have a short life span and lots of enemies. Maybe one of them got to him.”

  “That’s possible. I’ve been asking around the county and I found out some things about Ben that I didn’t know. Would never have guessed, in fact. You haven’t seen any strangers, have you?”

  Emma James had mentioned coincidences. Seeing a suspicious stranger around Levi at this time would be too coincidental.

  “No,” I answered. “Nobody except Drake. But then, you remember, I’ve been away for a good many years.”

  Grant was silent for a moment, finding something interesting in the top of the oak. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard tell of Jasper? I just came from his mother’s house. She swears that she has no idea where he is.”

  “If anybody knows Jasper’s whereabouts, it should be Pat. Mom says they are close,” I evaded.

  Grant reached over and wiped a fleck of dirt off my nose then he stood and dusted off his jeans. I stood too.

  Glancing at the peonies, he broke off a stem. “I hope Miss Flora won’t mind if I take this with me. I’ve always had a soft spot for that pretty bush.”

  He climbed into his white Ford Ranger. With a wave in my direction, he drove off down the street. For some reason, the sun’s brightness seemed to dim.

  “Was that Grant?” Mom called from the front porch.

  Walking slowly toward her, I said, “One and the same.”

  “Has he found out who killed Ben?”

  “No,” I said. “He asked if we knew anything that could help him solve these murders. I hate keeping secrets, Mom. I should have told him about Jasper and I should have told him about the map and Ben’s will.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Mom said, “If it worries you, Darcy, go ahead and tell him.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s too late now. I don’t want him to know I’ve kept things back.”

  Mom’s face registered surprise. “Darcy! I didn’t know you felt that way. We aren’t lying; we just aren’t volunteering information.”

  “Maybe,” I said, climbing the steps to the porch. “Would you like for me to help you with supper?”

  She turned to go back into the house. “No. We’re just having vegetable soup and it’s almost ready.”

  While my mother was occupied in the kitchen, there was a little chore I needed to do. Going to the telephone in the living room, I dialed a familiar number.