Locked Rock, Iowa's Hatchet Murders-book 6-Amazing Gracie Mystery Series

Locked Rock, Iowa's Hatchet Murders

Amazing Gracie Mystery Series

Book Six

By Fay Risner

Published by Fay Risner At Smashwords

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Cover Art by Fay Risner

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2011

Fay Risner

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

This book is for Mary Frazier, a woman to be admired for her cheerfulness, and courageous spirit that made her an inspiration to all who knew her.

I could not, at my age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived.

Eleanor Roosevelt

Chapter 1

The first warm breeze brought the birth of spring in 1905. Changes in the seasons seemed to work as an energizer to everyone. With all the bustling activity, Gracie Evans didn’t realize it, but she sped up her rocker as she watched from the Moser Mansion Rest Home For Women porch.

The thought crossed her mind she’d like to fly over Locked Rock, Iowa like the birds just to see what all was happening in town. She could just imagine people hustling around like worker ants boiling out of their hills. She quickly glance at Melinda Applegate dozing in her rocker. Gracie was glad she hadn’t spoken that thought out loud. If Melinda woke up to that nonsense, she would think Gracie's mind had gone as senile as her imagination. What a crazy idea! People able to fly like birds.

After a long, hard winter, citizens burst from their houses and found all sorts of things to do. As if the blooming of purple crocuses were their signal, they showed up in their front yards with rakes to get rid of dead leaf piles banked against trees, bushes and foundations. Other industrious citizens worked in gardens, sowing early spring crops like radishes and leaf lettuce. During daylight hours busy hammers reminded everyone new construction was on going. The resounding thwack of wood splitting when hit with an ax echoed about the neighborhood. Malachi, the Moser Mansion handy man, turned chunks into kindling to start the cookstove fire and to fuel the fireplaces to get rid of the morning and evening chill.

Traffic on the street in front of Moser Mansion had picked up mightily in the past few days. Word passed through the town that the Iowa River was out of its banks in the river bottoms. As happened every year, the spring thaw from up north was too much for the river to contain. Now everybody and his brother wanted to go see just how much land the flood covered.

Gracie Evans couldn't understand why human beings had such a curious nature. Floods were terrifying. She knew all about what run away water could do since the Iowa River twisted through her farm. She didn't care if she never had to look at another flood.

Tick, tick, tick went the imaginary clock in Gracie's head as she watched the button clouds skim across the azure blue sky. For her, time marched as slowly by as the clock's minute hand. She didn’t mind. Contentedly, she rocked on the porch with Melinda Applegate. She tapped her high top shoes against the floor as she watched everyone. They scurried about as if there would be no tomorrow. There was a time, she would have wanted to be that active, but now she was content to let the younger generation work. After all, she’d done her share of labor on her farm in her younger days, but now her day was over. Now it was someone else's turn.

Everything was all right in Gracie's world, at least at that moment. Hers was a contented life that went on every day like it did the day before and like it would tomorrow. She couldn't imagine her life any different. Of course, life for all of the Locked Rock citizens was pretty much a set routine. Everyone could predict pretty close what others in town would be doing at any given time. That didn't mean any of them could perceive anything happening in town that would shock them. Let along something that would make headlines across the country. Nothing like that ever happened in small, mid-western, sleepy eyed towns like Locked Rock, Iowa.

It was warm enough after yesterday's shower that the nightcrawlers had been out in the night. Some of the worms didn't make it back to their holes. Long lifeless globs lay strung out on the ground. Gracie studied a robin as it pecked in a clump of grass. It tickled her when the bird held his head high in the air, strangling on an enormous worm that was too big to go down his gullet in one piece.  The old saying that his eyes were too big for his stomach might have been something that the robin should have learn from experience by the time he was grown. Guess he hadn't.

Gracie finally broke the silence when she saw the mansion housekeeper, Agnes Barnes, rushing along the picket fence. The dowdy woman was a sight to behold as she held her skirt up above her high topped shoes to keep from tripping. Poking Melinda on the arm, Gracie questioned, Wonder what's got Agnes by the tail? Look at her go will you?

You'd think she's late getting to work instead of early the way she’s rushing. Knowing Agnes, she's heard a bit of gossip she can't wait to share with us, criticized Melinda. My mother always said gossiping was rude. Guess Agnes's mother never taught her that.

Never heard that from my mother, either. When I was growing up on the farm, Millard Sokal's father used to stop right often to give us neighborhood news over a cup of coffee. My folks liked knowing what was going on since they didn't have time to get away from their work too often to come to town. Agnes gets around more than we do, cleaning houses. Don't hurt for us to hear what news she has, said Gracie, siding against Melinda.

I give up, Melinda said softly, plopping her hands into her lap.

Agnes unlatched the picket fence gate and hustled through. She slammed the gate behind her, causing it to swing back and forth. She was in such a hurry she didn't even bother to secure the hook. Holding her chest, she rushed up the steps before she stopped to catch her breath.

Something wrong? Melinda asked offhandedly.

Yeah, who's chasing you? Gracie bantered, pretending to search the street in both directions.

No one, and you know it. Just came from the Mercantile, Agnes panted.  Ida Frank's all upset. She leaned against a porch pillar and patted her heaving chest.

Why? Gracie asked.

Doesn't take much to upset Ida. You know that. We know how high strung the woman is, added Melinda, not impressed by the news.

Agnes looked from one to the other. Didn't you two hear about Mayor Long's son getting killed in Oklahoma a couple days ago?

No! Poor Allegra must be beside herself, Melinda said in alarm. That boy was all they had. What was his name, Gracie?

Cain't recall. He's been gone a good long spell now, Gracie pondered.

Agnes pounced in front of them with her hands on her hips. My gracious, you should ask me. I know his name. It was Robert.

Oh yes, that's right, Melinda said as she faced Gracie. We should get Aunt Pearlbee to fix us a dish or cake to take over to the family.

Good idea. Spect that will be one big funeral what with James Long being mayor as long as he has, agreed Gracie.

That’s right. Everyone in town will be there I expect, Melinda surmised.

Forever more, stop talking. I don't have time to waste like you two do. Agnes fidgeted from one foot to the other. Will you just let me tell you what I heard?

Spit it out then before you have a conniption fit, grumped Gracie.

Still ignoring Agnes, Melinda puzzled, Seems strange to me Ida Frank was so upset about this? Don't it you, Gracie? It wasn't her kin died was it? Are the Longs related to the Franks?

Don't think Franks are related to the Longs as best I recall, Gracie said with a faraway look in her eyes as she tried to remember the Long family tree.

Oh for pity sakes!  They aren't related atall. Agnes's brown eyes sparked. Stop talking so I can tell you what this is all about. I’m the one who knows what happened, but I got to go to work soon.

My goodness, do tell us before you bust, Melinda said dryly.

Well, it's about time you two listened to me, Agnes said huffily. Ida says Robert Long was killed in a knife fight he tried to break up between two Indians. Mayor Long had the body brought home from Oklahoma in a coffin by train so Robert could be buried in the Locked Rock cemetery. When the coffin arrived yesterday morning, Robert's wife and brother-in-law came along with it for the funeral. It just so happens they are Cherokee Indians.

No kidding! Gracie whistled.

I didn't know the Longs daughter-in-law was an Indian, admitted Melinda.

Agnes puffed up. Now she knew she had the ladies attention with that bit of information. No one did. Not even me. She and her kin weren't atall what the Mayor and his snooty wife wanted to claim as in-laws. They've kept quiet about this for years. Now the mayor blames the Indians for his son's death. He for sure didn't want anything to do with the wife and her brother before and certainly not now.

Melinda sighed impatiently. I don't understand, Agnes. What has any of this to do with Ida being upset?

"Hold your horses!  I'm getting to it. The pallbearers carried the coffin into the Long's parlor while the Mayor met Robert's wife and her brother at the door. He told them they just might as well head on back to Oklahoma. They weren't welcome in his house, and he never wanted to see them again.

Ida said the wife must have cried all the way to Frank’s Mercantile. Ida got her to talking about what was wrong. Jack Frank listened to Robert's wife tell how upset she was about not being able to go to her husband's funeral. He thought the mayor had done the poor woman a terrible injustice. He said she deserved to be able to say goodbye as much as anyone else when it was her own husband so he took it upon himself to take her and her brother back to the Long's house for the wake last night." Agnes stopped to catch her breath.

Don't stop at the good part, Gracie insisted.

Melinda leaned forward and encouraged eagerly, What happened at the Long house?

Jack Frank waited long enough for the house to be full of people. He knew the mayor and his wife wouldn't put up a fuss with so many people watching. His acting that way wasn't good for his political image. After the visitation, Jack escorted the Indians out of the house and took them home with him for the night. He figures on bringing them to the funeral this morning at the church and staying with them until time to catch the train.

Wouldn't you like to be a fly on the wall of the church when Jack Frank walks in with those Indians? Gracie asked, waving her hand in front of her face.

That's true. Now where was I? Agnes asked tautly. Oh, yes. Ida is worried sick about what will happen to their business because of this. She's afraid they'll lose customers if people side with the mayor. You know how prejudice people around here are about Indians. She patted the flighty, graying brown loose hairs over her ears that were too short to fit in the roll on the back of her neck. Now I got to get inside and start cleaning. Plenty of work needs to be done around here you know.

Chapter 2

The rhythmic clip clop of horse hooves on the packed street had Melinda's mind on the traffic again as soon as the screen door banged. She perked up when she recognized the buggy's occupants. Gracie, the newlyweds are home, she cried, waving excitedly. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, Welcome back.

The couple, Moxie and Jeffrey Armstrong, waved and shouted a greeting as they past. Jeffrey stopped the buggy down the street at the old Jordan house where they intended to live.  He helped his bride out and turned to call, Aunt Melinda, we’ll be over later after we get settled in. 

I’m so glad they’re home.  I’ve missed that young couple, Melinda said, clapping her hands. How romantic! Look! Jeffrey is carrying Moxie over the threshold.

Beats me how a woman that made it down the aisle at her wedding without any help is too helpless to step in her own house on her own two feet, Gracie grumbled. 

Gracie Evans, you know that's a custom that newlyweds do. The petite woman gave Gracie a hard look. Or, maybe since you've never been married you didn't know that.

Gracie ducked her head and studied her lap. I knew about it. Just one more way a man has of dominating a woman. Makes her think she's weak and helpless right from the get go. I decided a long time ago I didn't want to be treated that way by any man.

Times are changing. I don't think that one custom is going to keep women from stepping forward to make a difference in this country, Melinda predicted softly, mashing her curly gray hair against the back of the rocker as she relax.

Gracie snorted. Women are going to change, are they? Will you listen to you, Little Miss Ball of Fluff? I reckon your husband carried you over the threshold.

Melinda's eyes ignited. She looked at the Armstrong house as she spewed, He did. What of it? I expect if you had been a little more fluffy in your day instead of a hard nose Millard Sokal would have carried you over a threshold, too. Out of the corner of her eyes, Melinda saw Gracie straighten up in her rocker. Before the woman could spit out some nasty retort, Melinda said dreamily, Didn’t Jeffrey and Moxie have the nicest church wedding?

If it suited them it was all right with me, Gracie grumped as she pushed a hairpin farther into the gray braids wound around her head.  I just hope that nephew of yours ain’t sorry of his bargain after while.

Melinda shot back up and leaned over her rocker arm. What an awful thing to say about such a happy couple.

You know as well as I do Short Stuff is an accident waiting to happen.  She was a trial for us to put up with after Miss Molly said she could move in here.  I reckon she’ll try that new husband’s patience eventually, too, Gracie predicted.

You always see the glass half empty. There just isn't any changing you. Melinda gave up and tapped the floor with her toes, moving the rocker gently back and forth. Deep in thought, her soft blue eyes sadden as she fixed on the tiny, new leaves bursting from the honeysuckle vine entwined on the trellis in front of her.  Finally, she shifted her head and her eyes moistened as she said softly, I miss Libby Hook. Don’t you?

Gracie gave that idea a moment’s thought. With a melancholy smile, she replied, Yep, but reckon what I miss most is not having Snippy Libby here to pick on. It’s been dull around here lately.

Gracie! What a thing to say! Now that Libby’s passed away, can’t you say something nice about her just once, rebuked Melinda. She narrowed her eyes at Gracie. And without calling her by that awful name.

Gracie shifted in her rocker, uncomfortable under her friend’s stern gaze and became thoughtful. You’re right. I’d sure hate to lose my mind like Libby did. The way she was at the end wasn’t a good shape to be in, depending on others like she was to take care of her and not knowing up from down. Ready to change the subject to get away from Melinda’s tongue lashing, Gracie pointed across the street. Here comes Sara Bullock.

The middle aged neighbor yelled at them like she