Aunt Dimity Goes West Read online

  “I suppose not,” I conceded reluctantly. “But if I get to know her better…”

  You would have to know her well for several years before you could ask such a question. Are you planning to extend your stay at the Aerie until Will and Rob have outgrown their ponies?

  “No,” I said, laughing. “Okay, Dimity, I’ll let it rest. And if I see anyone else who reminds me of home, I’ll keep my mouth shut. I don’t want Annelise to yell at me again. She made me feel as if I’d been caught red-handed scrawling graffiti on the vicarage.”

  Thank heavens for Annelise’s good sense, as well as her good manners. Take it from me, Lori, no one wishes to be told that he or she is exactly like someone else. We all like to believe that we are unique. In nine cases out of ten it isn’t true, but it’s what we like to believe. Do your encounters with doppelgangers form the sum total of your news?

  “I’m just getting started,” I told her, and settled back in the chair. “Do you remember asking me to find out why James Blackwell and the Auerbachs left the Aerie so abruptly?”

  I do.

  “Well,” I said, “I think I have the answer. Or part of the answer. Or something that might be the answer after I’ve investigated it more thoroughly.”

  You shouldn’t be investigating anything, Lori! You’re on holiday. You’re supposed to be relaxing. I wish I’d never mentioned my misgivings.

  “But you did mention them,” I pointed out, “and there’s no use telling me to forget about them, because I won’t.”

  Of course you won’t. You’re like a dog with a bone when it comes to rooting out mysteries, but you’re also like a kangaroo when it comes to jumping to conclusions. We’ve been here before, Lori.

  “I know,” I said, “but this time I’m sure I’m onto something. Well, I’m almost sure.”

  All right, then, let me hear your theory, or what might pass for a theory after you’ve investigated it more thoroughly.

  I grinned at the page and continued confidently. “I found out some very interesting things while I was at the ranch. Brett Whitcombe told me that a bigmouthed blowhard named Dick Major used to make life miserable for James Blackwell whenever James went into town. Dick Major used to taunt James in public. He called James lazy and worthless and told him he should get a real job instead of taking money from his employers for doing nothing. I think Dick Major drove James away from the Aerie.”

  Are you suggesting that James Blackwell quit a comfortable and no doubt lucrative position because a local bully taunted him?

  “Yes,” I said. “Brett Whitcombe told me that James was quiet and shy, just the sort of meek little mouse who’d be cowed by a loudmouthed bully.”

  But James Blackwell held the position of caretaker for six months before he quit. If he was so meek and mild, why did it take so long for Dick Major to shame him into leaving?

  I regarded the question uncertainly, then shrugged. “Everyone has a breaking point, Dimity. Maybe it took James Blackwell six months to reach his. Or maybe…” I nodded as a new and better explanation occurred to me. “Maybe James heard stories about Dick Major that frightened him. Brett Whitcombe told me that James wanted to know if some stories he’d heard were true.”

  Did the stories concern Dick Major?

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Brett didn’t repeat them to me. Maybe he didn’t want to make me nervous about staying at the Aerie. But what if James Blackwell left the Aerie because he’d heard rumors about Dick becoming violent? What if James was afraid Dick’s taunts would turn into punches?”

  I applaud your creativity, Lori, but I can’t help wondering if your own recent experiences might be coloring your interpretation of events. It wasn’t so long ago that you were forced to run for your life after being threatened by a homicidal maniac.

  “Coincidences happen,” I reminded her airily. “If Kit and Nell aren’t the only Kit and Nell in the world, then Abaddon can’t be the only murderous madman.”

  You’re in kangaroo mode, my dear. With one fearless leap of the imagination you’ve transformed Dick Major from a loudmouthed bully into a murderous madman.

  “But what if he is a murderous madman?” I asked. “It might explain why the Auerbachs left in such a hurry. They might have been afraid of him, too.”

  But why would Danny Auerbach leave his caretaker in the clutches of a murderous madman? Why would he allow you, Annelise, two small children, and young Toby Cooper to come to the Aerie if he was convinced that a murderous madman lived nearby? And why on earth would Danny run away from a murderous madman in the first place? Danny’s a wealthy, high-powered businessman. If he thought his family was in danger, he wouldn’t pack his bags in a hurry and flee. He’d contact his lawyers and go straight to the police. He’s undoubtedly on good terms with the more influential members of the law enforcement community. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that they play golf together.

  “I take your point,” I said philosophically. “I’m rather fond of my theory, but I suppose it does have a few holes in it.”

  Your theory has more holes than a colander. I suggest you plug them before you leap to any more conclusions.

  “No problem,” I said. “I’ll ask Toby if he’s heard any scary stories about Dick Major. If he hasn’t, I’ll head into Bluebird and hook up to the local grapevine. One of the townspeople will be able to fill me in. Nothing goes unnoticed in a small community.”

  An excellent idea. I’d wish you luck, but I doubt you’ll need it. You’ve become quite adept at monitoring grapevines since you moved to Finch. You’ll bring Toby with you when you go to Bluebird, won’t you?

  “Of course,” I said. “I’ll need him to introduce me to the locals. Why?”

  I’d rather you didn’t run into Dick Major on your own. I don’t want an obnoxious bully to spoil your holiday.

  I smiled as Aunt Dimity’s elegant script faded from the page, then I returned the journal to the bedside table and rubbed my palms together energetically. I hadn’t swapped gossip since I’d been shot. I was looking forward to getting back in practice.

  It was nearly two o’clock by the time I returned to the great room. Toby was in the kitchen, preparing a late lunch. He’d already set two places at the teak table on the breakfast deck, so we went out there to enjoy the sunshine and the scenery as well as our meal. I waited until we’d finished the fruit salad and started in on the rosemary chicken–stuffed croissants to ask if he’d heard any stories about the infamous Dick Major.

  “Stories about Dick?” Toby gave a low whistle and rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard too many to count. I’ve never actually met the man, but he’s made a real name for himself since he moved to Bluebird—several names, in fact, none of which should be repeated in polite company.”

  “Not Mr. Popular, huh?” I said.

  “He’s about as popular as a swarm of mosquitoes.” Toby speared a piece of chilled asparagus. “Where did you hear about Dick Major?”

  “Brett Whitcombe,” I replied. “When we were at the ranch this morning, Brett told me that Dick used to bully James Blackwell.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Toby. “From what I hear, Dick’s the kind of guy who gets his kicks out of intimidating people.”

  “Is he dangerous?” I asked.

  “Dick’s a pest, not a mobster,” Toby said dismissively. “He started so many arguments with his next-door neighbor that the guy finally moved to a house on the other side of town, just to have a little peace and quiet. But word gets around; the house next to Dick’s is still empty.”

  “When did he move to Bluebird?” I asked, wondering if Dick’s arrival had coincided with the Auerbachs’ sudden departure.

  “A year ago, I think,” said Toby.

  “A year ago?” I echoed disappointedly. “Not just before Christmas?”

  “I’m pretty sure he was here way before Christmas,” said Toby. “Why are you so interested in him?”

  “I’ve been wondering why James Blackwell quit
his job,” I said. “I think maybe he got sick of being bullied by Dick.”

  “You could be right, though I’d hate to think I owe my job to someone like Dick Major.” Toby grimaced adorably and went on eating.

  “How have you avoided meeting Dick?” I asked.

  “Just lucky, I guess.” Toby pointed his fork at my plate. “How’s the chicken?”

  “It’s delicious,” I said. “Everything’s delicious, but you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

  “I didn’t,” said Toby, grinning. “I picked it up at the cafe.”

  As I took another bite of croissant, it occurred to me that if Caroline’s Cafe was anything like Sally Pyne’s tearoom in Finch, it would be the epicenter of gossip in Bluebird—a perfect starting point for my tour of the local rumor mill. Before I could suggest a quick run into town, however, my cell phone rang. I apologized to Toby and went into the great room to answer it.

  “Lori?” Bill’s voice came through as clearly as if he were standing beside me. “I finally managed to get ahold of Danny.”

  “Did you find out what happened at Christmas?” I asked eagerly.

  “Not exactly,” Bill answered. “Apparently Florence insisted on leaving.”

  “Who’s Florence?” I asked.

  “Danny’s wife,” said Bill. “She refused to explain why she wanted to leave, and she isn’t the sort of woman you cross-examine, so Danny doesn’t know what happened. Whatever it was, Florence has taken such a dislike to the Aerie that she refuses to go back there. In fact, Danny’s put the place on the market.”

  “The Aerie’s for sale?” I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s what property developers do, Lori,” said Bill. “Build and sell.”

  I looked around the great room and shook my head. Feathers, bones, and interesting bits of wood, the harvest of many family hikes, had been lovingly arranged in the rustic cabinets. Rambunctious children had left their marks on the comfy furniture. Family meals had been prepared in the kitchen and eaten around the large dining table. It took no imagination whatsoever to picture Danny, his wife, sons, and daughter gathered around the fireplace, singing Christmas carols, roasting marshmallows, and sipping hot apple cider.

  “Not the Aerie,” I said firmly. “He didn’t build the Aerie to sell. It’s Danny’s tree house, Bill.”

  “His what?” said Bill.

  “His pride and joy,” I clarified. “If you ask me, the Aerie’s as important to him as the cottage is to us. I can’t believe he’s selling it. When did it go on the market?”

  “Just after Christmas,” said Bill.

  “What are we supposed to do if prospective buyers show up?” I asked. “Hide in the woods until they leave?”

  “Danny’s put everything on hold while you’re there,” said Bill. “To tell you the truth, he’s having a hard time attracting buyers. He’s lowered the price twice in the past six months, but no one’s made him an offer. I think he’s beginning to regret his decision to build in such an out-of-the-way place.”

  “It’s a beautiful place,” I insisted.

  “But it’s not Aspen,” said Bill.

  “It’s better than Aspen. It would break Danny’s heart to sell the Aerie,” I said sadly, and at that moment my own heart hardened. I didn’t know what had happened to spoil the Aerie for Florence Auerbach, but I was determined to find out. If Dick Major was to blame, I’d find a way to make him mind his manners. I knew what it was like to be forced to leave a place I loved. I didn’t want the same thing to happen to Danny and his family.

  “Danny told me about the sale in confidence,” Bill was saying, “so don’t mention it to anyone, all right?”

  “Does Toby know?” I asked.

  “Toby Cooper?” said Bill. “I doubt it.”

  “But Toby was planning to spend the whole summer here,” I said. “If Danny sells the Aerie after we leave, Toby will be out of a job.”

  “Danny hasn’t had a nibble in six months,” Bill said patiently. “Unless a miracle happens, Toby will be able to keep his job until it’s time for him to go back to school.”

  “I hope so,” I said worriedly.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see,” said Bill. “It’s an unfortunate situation, but try not to dwell on it, Lori. You’re there to enjoy yourself. I don’t want you to get your knickers in a twist about something that’s beyond your control.”

  My knickers were already in a twist, and I was far from convinced that the situation was beyond my control, but I knew better than to say as much to Bill. He’d only feel guilty for upsetting me.

  “Are you at the ranch?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied, “but you won’t believe who I saw there….”

  Bill’s reaction to my descriptions of Belle and Brett Whitcombe was even more infuriatingly blasé than Aunt Dimity’s had been. He seemed to think I’d perceived a strong resemblance between them and Kit and Nell simply because I was homesick. I was so incensed by his patronizing tone that I vowed to take photographs of Belle and Brett the next time I went to the ranch in order to document my claims.

  “Don’t let Annelise catch you at it,” Bill advised. “She’ll confiscate your camera and make you sit in the corner until you promise to behave yourself. I’ll speak with you again tomorrow, love.”

  I could have sworn I heard him chuckle as he ended the call.

  I was in a somewhat grumpy mood when I returned to the breakfast deck, but Toby restored my cheerfulness by asking if I planned to attend church in Bluebird the following day. I told him that I could think of no better way to spend my first Sunday morning in Colorado.

  A church lawn after Sunday services was, in my experience, a splendid spot to fish for local gossip. Although Toby had dealt my pet theory a blow by placing Dick Major in Bluebird well before Christmas, I remained certain that the town bully had had something to do with James Blackwell’s departure as well as the Auerbachs’. I was determined to get the dirt on him before the week was out.

  My fishing expedition was, alas, delayed by one day because Will and Rob insisted on attending the cowboy church at the Brockman Ranch, which turned out to be an all-day affair. After the guitar-twanging, yodel-filled service came the huge picnic lunch, then a rodeo in which my sons demonstrated trick riding skills I didn’t know they possessed and wished I’d never seen. I managed to keep smiling during their bravura performance, but I gripped the bleacher seat so hard I lost all feeling in my fingers.

  The rodeo went on until the evening barbecue, which was followed by a bonfire, the singing of many cowboy songs, and the dramatic recitation of cowboy poetry. As we were getting ready to leave, Brett Whitcombe offered to pick up the boys and Annelise the next morning and bring them to the ranch for another day of riding.

  After conferring with Annelise, I accepted the offer gratefully. I knew that the twins would be perfectly content to spend the rest of their vacation in the saddle. I’d also noted that Annelise, levelheaded though she was, was thoroughly enjoying her first taste of cowboy charm.

  It was approaching midnight when we returned to the Aerie with a pair of sleepy-headed but happy little cowpokes as well as a dozen covertly taken photographs of Brett and Belle. If I’d known how to use a laptop computer to transmit images, I would have e-mailed them directly to Bill.

  Nine

  Our late-night festivities had not the slightest impact on Will or Rob. They crawled out of their tent bright and early on Monday morning, pulled on their freshly laundered riding clothes, and chattered like magpies with their father when he called at nine o’clock. After a quick breakfast, they stood by the window wall to keep watch for Brett Whitcombe’s truck. He showed up at nine forty-five and took off with Annelise and the twins, leaving me and Toby to our own devices.

  “Would it be okay if we went into Bluebird today?” I asked Toby as we loaded the dishwasher. “I’d like to explore the town.”

  “Sounds good to m
e.” He closed the dishwasher and leaned back against it, with his arms folded across his chest and a challenging gleam in his eyes. “Walk or drive?”

  “Walk,” I said bravely. “Unless you think it’s too far.”

  “It’s not too far,” he said. “If we go by the easiest trail, it’ll take us twenty minutes to get there, tops. You won’t even break a sweat.”

  “Only because we’ll be going downhill,” I pointed out.

  “You can handle it, Lori,” Toby said bracingly. “Grab your hat and pull on your hiking boots. It’s another beautiful day in Colorado.”

  As far as I could tell, every day was beautiful in Colorado. I hadn’t seen a cloud in the sky since we’d arrived, and the snow that had filled me with dread at the airport had disappeared from all but the shadiest nooks in the forest. Even though it was barely ten o’clock in the morning, it was already warm enough for me to dress in shorts and a T-shirt, but I took the precaution of adding a rain jacket to Toby’s day pack before we took off, bearing in mind his oft-repeated, though still unproven, warning that mountain weather was nothing if not changeable.

  The trail to town started at the western edge of the Aerie’s clearing. It was wide and smooth and carpeted with pine needles that smelled like incense in the splashes of hot sunlight falling through the sheltering trees.

  “We’re on the Lord Stuart Trail,” Toby informed me. “There used to be a narrow gauge rail line running along here, linking the mine head to the processing mill in Bluebird.”

  “Was the Lord Stuart Mine a big operation?” I asked.

  “Biggest in the valley,” said Toby. “Granddad told me that it employed a couple hundred men, all told. They used to walk along the sides of the track on their way to the mine from their lodgings in Bluebird. The Lord Stuart Trail was a major thoroughfare in its day.”

  “No wonder it’s so easy,” I said. “I like major thoroughfares.”

  “I knew you would,” said Toby, with a satisfied nod.