Snow Creek(29)

He sits on a stump ready for carving and faces us.

“No. Not really. I was thinking of inviting them over one time for a barbecue. You know, to be neighborly. He wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Said his wife was shy and his kids were too unruly to take anywhere. I never saw anything like that in them. Always seemed like a nice family.”

“Ever say he was unhappy with his marriage?” I ask.

Dan doesn’t answer right away.

I give him a little push. He’s holding back. “What’s on your mind, Dan?”

“Oh, I don’t know. One time he told me, now he was a little drunk, he said that Ida didn’t always do what he wanted her to do.”

“What did he mean, if you know?” Sheriff asks.

Dan looks at me. He’s embarrassed about something.

“It’s fine. Go ahead.”

He nods. “Okay. It creeped me out. He told me that he’d trained her to do what he wanted and lately she’d been holding back.”

Ruth Turner’s “hand-picked” comes to mind just then.

“You mean sexually?” I ask.

He nods again, his face now pink. “Yeah, that’s the way I took it.”

We talk a bit more, mostly about his artwork. Sheriff asks if he knows any of the other neighbors and if they were close to the Wheatons.

“Old Maxine used to have the kids over,” Dan says. “Said they were nice kids. That relationship fizzled out; not sure why.”

“I chatted with her already,” I say.

He gives me a smile that’s almost a wink. It’s disarming. “You see her cats? Merritt called her Crazy Cat Lady.”

I smile. “I thought one of them was going to go home with me. Or at the very least attach itself to my calf.”

“No shit,” he says. “I have one showing up here every now and then. I imagine cats don’t like living in those conditions. Her heart is in the right place, but anything over two cats is too many.”

“Do you know the people holed up in the mobile?” I ask.

“Nope,” he says. “Place has been abandoned for years. No power. Surprised it’s still intact. Guess some people just need a roof over their heads and don’t care what it’s like. Meth-heads stayed there for a few months. They’re gone now. I think whoever has it now uses it on weekends only.”

“Some vacation getaway,” Sheriff says.

“I guess you could call it that,” Dan says.

“What about the Torrances?”

“Those gals keep to themselves. Just like everybody out here, I guess. I haven’t seen either in months. Last time I was over there was to return one of their Nubians. She got loose, ended up way over here. Regina was glad to get her back. Amy was inside and didn’t come out to say hello. Regina went in and got me a nice brick of their cheese. Give a big hello from me, when you speak to them. Always liked those girls and how they ditched the city to make a life out here. Kind of like Little House in the Big Woods.”

Sheriff and I thank him for his time. I hand him my card.

“Please call if you have anything to add,” I say.

He smiles at me.

Sheriff looks at me and I turn to leave.

“When they turn up,” Dan calls out, looking up from my card, “tell Merritt that I’ve got some dough for the live edge dining table.”

As the sheriff backs up the car to turn around, he glances at me with a sheepish grin.

“Don’t say anything,” I say.

He does anyway.

“You like him,” he says.

I ignore his remark.

“Let’s get going.”





Twenty





I’m on edge. Teetering. When it comes to gut feelings as I work a case, I’m not infallible. I’ve been wrong a few times. Two, in fact. This one, however, I know what I know inside. I just need confirmation because the law requires it. I’m learning how to follow the rules, something I avoided completely when I was younger. I look at the dead, black mirror of my phone. I want to see the DNA results to confirm who Jane Doe is.

Even though I know who it is.

“How do people live out here without phones that work?” I ask as we pull away from Dan Miller’s place on our way to the Torrance property.

Sheriff pops another cherry candy into his mouth.

“Waiting on those reports?”

He reads me. He is the only one who can. Though only as much as I allow.

“Of course. We’ll need the warrant right away.”

“Theory?” he asks.

“It’s all about the claw hammer. I think that Merritt Wheaton killed Ida and wrapped her up in the carpet.”

“Where? In his workshop in the Quonset hut, or in the barn?”

I nod. “She was hit in the back of the head. Had to be at home. No one carries a hammer around.”

“Carpenters do.”

I make an annoyed face. “I guess so. But not this control freak. He’s going to kill her where no one can hear or see anything.”

“Motive?”

He’s lobbing the easy ones at me. I answer anyway.

“Like I said, control freak. You heard Dan. He said Ida was pushing back on her duties, I guess. They come from a fundamentalist sect that, as far as I can tell, is their own invention. No church that I can find. After spending time with Ida’s sister Ruth, I definitely got a Children of the Corn vibe.”