Composted Tyrant: A Killdeer Farm Mystery

By Janet Morgan

Praise Quotes for Poetic Justice:

"Poetic Justice has it all--a coastal Maine setting, Shakespeare and the Greek gods, characters the reader will want to see much more of--and murder. Get ready to stay up late trying to guess who killed Alfonse Sweetzer--the man so many of his neighbors in idyllic Wyleyville had every reason to hate." - Susan Connelly, author of the Nell Prentice Mystery Series

"There's no better setting for a cozy than a library--and librarian Jessie Tyler is an appealing character I hope to read more about. Janet Morgan is a wise and gentle storyteller with the sure hand of an expert angler who hooks readers and keeps them guessing right up to the last chapter of Poetic Justice." - Leslie Meier, author of the Lucy Stone Mystery Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 29, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450244633

Janet Morgan

Janet Morgan was born and raised in coastal Maine. She received a BA in English at UMA while working as a librarian. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance, and Wiscasset Public Library Writing Group. Her first Killdeer Farm mystery was Poetic Justice.

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Contents

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1

As dead as a doornail

- Henry VI, Part 2, 4.10.40

Willie Wimple’s day had begun auspiciously enough when he arose to a bright summer’s day, but it was soon to take a turn for the worse. He had arrived early at the Wyleyville Public Library to mow and rake the lawns. Because the library was closed until ten o’clock, his work would be uninterrupted. Willie took great pleasure in his solitude.

All went well as he worked on the front lawn, and then deposited grass clippings into his wheelbarrow. Willie whistled as he wheeled it out back to be dumped into one of the two compost bins at the rear of the library. He stopped in his tracks as he approached the bin that was in current use. Something was wrong! Feet hung out over the wooden-slatted receptacle as if someone were in peaceful repose. There was, unfortunately, no peace for this man. As the handles of the wheelbarrow slipped from Willie’s fingers, he realized that he had just found a dead body lying atop the compost.

Willie was riveted to the spot as shock rippled through his body. As the horror began to subside, he groaned. Just my luck!

This was the last thing he had expected to see in the quiet coastal town of Wyleyville, Maine, especially in the wake of a prior discovery. Only last month a body had been found inside the library. When a librarian had come to work and stumbled on a dead man in the art room, Willie had considered himself lucky that he had been working elsewhere. Well, now he was paying for that thought. As Willie wondered what he should do, a jogger came trotting past the library from the other end of Preble Street.

Hey, mister, Willie called out. Would you come over here for a minute?

The man turned towards Willie. Recognizing the handyman, the running man asked, Willie, how are you?

I need help. Willie felt a little sick, but he managed to hold his churning stomach in check.

As the jogger began walking towards Willie, he noticed that the usually healthy looking older man appeared to be a bit gray this morning. Is something wrong? he enquired.

I guess you could say that. One of us needs to go and get Chief Michaelson. I have a dead body here but I don’t think I should leave it. Willie had seen this man around town but he couldn’t put a name to the face. I’m sorry mister, but I don’t recall... Of course, once he had started to utter the statement, he remembered. Oh, it’s Kevin, right?

Yeah, I’m Kevin Jacobs. Did you say something about a dead body? It occurred to Kevin that Willie might be teasing him. The expression on Willie’s face, however, told him that perhaps he should take the man seriously. Are you sure the person’s dead? he finished.

Hey, mister, I know a dead body when I see one. There’s a damned hunting knife sticking out of his chest. Willie shuddered.

Kevin stepped forward, hoping that Willie would say: Kidding! But he knew that was just wishful thinking when he sidled up to Willie and saw a crumpled body stuffed into the compost with its feet hanging over the sides in an awkward angle. No doubt about it; the man was dead.

Holy mother of God! Kevin had been feeling pretty good when he had rounded the bend that would take him to Maine Street but now he felt sick to his stomach and curiously short of breath. Gasping, he bent over and threw up.

Mister, are you okay? Willie had felt almost as sick as the jogger, but he now found strength in the other man’s weakness. I was going to ask you to jog down to the police station, but I guess I should go instead.

He placed a hand on the younger man’s elbow and gently guided him to the picnic table situated just outside the library’s back door. Had Willie possessed a key, he would have gone inside and called the police station. But after that disaster inside the library only a month ago, Willie was glad he had never been issued a key. And since he did not go in for that newfangled stuff like those cellular phones most people carried, he had no choice. He must either wave down yet another passerby – hoping that person wouldn’t lose it, too – or trust this guy to stay put while he went after the police.

Will you stay here? Willie asked.

I guess so, the man croaked through clenched teeth. Kevin had never felt this poorly before.

I better go and get the chief. You need to sit. Just make sure no one else comes along and touches the body before the police arrive.

Me? You want me to stay here? Alone with the body? He had been pale before, but now Kevin’s face began to take on a greenish tinge.

Yikes, mister, will you okay if I leave you? It’ll only take a minute. Willie turned and pointed towards downtown. You can almost see the police station from here. He was so focused on looking down Maine Street that he hadn’t heard the footsteps of another person approaching.

Hey, what’s going on here? a third voice chirped.

Suddenly the whole town’s showing up, Willie thought. Shrugging, he turned to see the newly arrived fellow. Willie almost wilted with relief. "Officer Walker! You’re a welcome sight. I found something – that is someone – but then I didn’t dare leave Kevin here, because when he came along… Willie cut off his rambling when he saw the perplexed look on Officer Walker’s face. Oh, just go and take a gander into the compost bin over there," he finished.

"Now don’t you be wasting my time with nonsense, Willie Wimple. If someone put something in the compost that doesn’t belong there, you shouldn’t be bothering me about it. I worked a homicide last month, you know. My time is too important for frivolous stuff."

Well, mister homicide man, maybe this is just the case for you, then. Look for yourself. Willie watched the officer, who strode with confidence over to the compost, come to an abrupt stop. He bent over.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, Willie exclaimed.

Willie watched in amazement as the self-proclaimed homicide officer lost his breakfast. Am I the only person in town with a strong stomach? As he wondered who else was going to arrive to supposedly help, Willie saw a cell phone fall from the officer’s belt. He bent over and picked it up, but he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Hey, that’s police property, Officer Walker gasped.

Then call someone, you fool, before you pass out, Willie lost his temper. While he felt sorry for Kevin, Officer Walker was another story. After all, this man was a policeman. Willie, however, had barely glimpsed at the dead body, so he didn’t realize what all the fuss was about. Had he taken the time to look closer, he might have been more sympathetic. While all the color had been washed from the dead man’s face, it was the eyes bulged in horror that was truly frightening. The fear emanating from those dead eyes would upset anyone, even a person with nerves of steel. But Willie knew something had to be done. He wasted no time wondering why two grown men could not look upon death. All he knew was that Officer Walker needed to get busy and make that call before everyone in town showed up to make a mess of the crime scene.

You can’t talk to me like that, you old man.

Oh, yes I can if you’re going to just stand there barfing all over the place.

After the indignity of that insult, Officer Walker lost his patience. He reached over, grabbed his cell phone, pulled it from Willie’s hand, and dialed the chief. Hey, Chief, guess what, Walker gulped back another wave of nausea before he spoke. I’ve got another body. The officer listened to what his boss had to say before continuing, No kidding, really, there’s some stiff in a pile of leaves right outside the library.

When Willie attempted to listen in on the conversation, Walker moved away and lowered his voice. Shortly he closed the flip-phone and turned, if unsteadily, back to Willie. The chief will be here in a minute. No one is to go near the body or mess up the crime scene.

Right! Willie thought. Like no one should barf all over the lawn in front of the compost bin where there might be footprints. Willie strolled over to the picnic table and sat opposite Kevin, who rested his elbows on the table and cradled his head between his hands. The man still appeared quite ill.

Meanwhile Officer Walker paced back and forth near the road, looking towards town and the police station. He seemed to be avoiding the crime scene. He suddenly became alert as the chief’s cruiser appeared. After turning onto Preble Street, the car came to a screeching halt in the library parking lot.

Walker grew in stature as he stepped up to the cruiser’s open window: Chief, this is a bad one. The man has a knife sticking out of his chest. Officer Walker puffed up with pride, as if he had been the one who had found the body.

Because Chief Michaelson knew his assistant’s weakness, his junior officer’s act of superiority did not fool him. Okay, Walker, just show me. You said it was on a pile of leaves?

Over there, in the compost, Willie responded before the over-zealous officer could take credit for finding the body. I found him when I brought a wheelbarrow of grass clippings from out front.

The chief turned to the handyman. When was that, Willie?

Oh, about ten minutes ago, just before these two guys showed up and got sick all over the place. Willie pointed an accusing finger, first towards Kevin and then to Officer Walker. Some help they were.

"Is that so? Well, I guess you better show me the body, while Officer Walker rests with Kevin." Chief Michaelson gave a disapproving look at his young officer.

Walker dragged his feet and hung his head as he walked over to the picnic table. He sat with a thud. This startled Kevin out of his funk: What? What’s going on? Kevin immediately collapsed again. Oh, God, I feel awful.

Well, go and get sick somewhere else, the suddenly sanctimonious Officer Walker piped up.

2

By the pricking of my thumb

- Macbeth, 4.1.44

On this second Monday in July, Jessie Tyler began her day off as director of the Wyleyville Public Library with a late awakening. Today, like all days, she fed her starving cats before she took the time to prepare her own breakfast. Once a cup of coffee was ready, the daily visit with the occupant of her shed came next. Next Jessie decided to work in the barn for a while. There’s no time like the present, she thought as she stared out the back window. Strolling out the door, she crossed the back lawn and went into the barn. After greeting Hamlet, her black and white paint horse, she led the nine-year-old gelding out of his stall and into one of her pastures.

While cleaning up the barn, the fresh smell of new hay brought back the memory of last week’s hay harvesting. She and Cassie Lakewood – who was not only Jessie’s best friend, but also her closest neighbor – had, as usual, hired the man up the road to cut their fields. Mr. Merryfield always took the extra hay in payment, which was a great arrangement for all parties concerned.

Jessie only had one horse to feed, but Cassie had two horses, three cows, a couple of pigs, and a flock of chickens. The haying was now completed, but Jessie hadn’t forgotten the feel of rough hay scratching her skin as the sweat had rolled over her face, neck, and arms. Haying was a hot and itchy job. Jessie felt a keen sense of accomplishment at having it all stacked and ready for winter. And the women had been more than ready for the break the upcoming holiday had given them.

When the 4th of July had finally rolled around, Jessie and Cassie had loaded themselves into Cassie’s oversized van with Cassie’s four daughters in tow. Everyone was looking forward to the relaxation and enjoyment of the town’s holiday celebration. After finding a parking spot near the library, they walked down to Maine Street and watched the parade. This year Cassie’s youngest girls decided they were too old to chase after candy as it was being thrown into the street from the floats. After all, Kelly and Kailey were now all of twelve years old.

Once the parade was over, Cassie’s daughters had wandered off to visit with friends they had seen gathering on Maine Street. The two older girls had promised to watch the twins, even though the younger girls considered themselves old enough to take care of themselves. But Cassie was protective of her children. And because she didn’t see the twins as the grown-ups they thought they were, she was glad that twenty-one-year-old Gina and seventeen-year-old Willa were happy to let Kelly and Kailey tag along with them. They were all looking forward to having lunch at their aunt’s restaurant, The Great Taco Bazaar, before joining their mother at the town wharf.

Come on, Jessie. Let’s go down to the waterfront and check out all the action, Cassie said as she took her friend by the elbow. When they arrived at the wharf, they spied some teenagers swimming in the Abnaki River. I’m sure glad the girls didn’t bring their swimsuits. That outgoing tide can be dangerous.

Oh, Cassie, when we were kids we always swam in the river and nothing happened to us.

How soon we forget. What, weren’t we about my twins’ age when you almost drowned?

Never, Jessie insisted. She recalled the event in a different light. Her friend would say that Jessie had been swimming against the tide and had almost been swept out to sea, even though the ocean was a good ten miles past Wyleyville’s downtown waterfront.

Never mind, Cassie shook her head with amusement as she pulled Jessie into the crowd. They never would agree on that one.

As the day had progressed, Cassie’s girls materialized with a handsome young man – Jessie’s son – in tow. Even though Jonathan had a soft spot in his heart for Gina, he was walking hand-in-hand with the twins.

See who we found in Aunt Mary’s restaurant, Gina said as she drew Jonathan away from her younger sisters. Waving good-bye, she dragged him towards some friends they had gone to school with. Gina and Jonathan had been classmates all through school, just as Jessie and Cassie had been in their day.

High school senior Willa saw some of her own friends and went off in another direction. The twins were left to spend the remainder of the day with their mother and Jessie, but they didn’t mind. Fashion plates, the twins loved showing off their new red, white, and blue dresses to all the adults they encountered.

The evening ended on a high note, but it had almost been spoiled just before sunset, when the bane of Jessie’s professional life came striding towards them. Even Cassie cringed when she saw Doris Causwell. Something wicked this way comes, Cassie whispered in Jessie’s ear.

Jessie snorted in disbelief. Cassie had quoted Shakespeare! What an unusual occurrence. If Cassie hadn’t been so close to the mark, Jessie might have taken the time to tease her friend because Cassie didn’t enjoy Shakespeare the way Jessie did. Quick! Hide! Jessie said too late.

Well, Mrs. Tyler. I see they closed the library today. I guess the working class gets the 4th of July off, but I cannot understand why.

Yes, isn’t it nice that librarians get to celebrate with everyone else, Jessie replied in a sweet tone she didn’t mean.

Well, enjoy it, if you must, Mrs. Causwell snapped as she turned and strode off towards a group of elderly women. Jessie wondered if the other women could be friends. She had always figured that Mrs. Causwell had none, but one could never tell about other people’s taste in friends.

Phew, that was a close call, Cassie wiped her brow. "Never, I mean never, leave me alone with that woman. If you value our friendship, this is one thing you will never do to me."

Jessie laughed. Only last month when she and Cassie had been working on their first – and only she hoped – murder case, Cassie had volunteered to interview Doris Causwell when her name had been added to their list of suspects. Cassie had lived to regret that generous offer.

I promise. But don’t forget that I have to deal with her every time she comes to the library. Jessie shuddered when she thought about the frequency of those dreaded visits.

It was Cassie’s turn to laugh. "But you get paid to talk to her!"

The day soon came to its spectacular conclusion as the two families congregated near the wharf with what seemed to be the whole town in attendance. Jessie, Cassie, Jonathan, and Cassie’s four girls all sat together on a grassy knoll and enjoyed the fireworks display that capped off the evening.

Wow! That was great, the twins cried in unison.

As everyone walked back up the hill towards where they had left their vehicles, the younger people were all laughing and talking at once. Over the heads of the shorter Lakewood clan – save the taller Willa – Jessie and her son exchanged a knowing look. The day had been fun, even though there had been one person conspicuously absent from the festivities.

Only Willa caught the look. She knew what they had been thinking. This was the first time Jessie and her son had taken part in celebrating the 4th of July since her husband’s untimely death just over two years ago. Jessie and her two Jonathans had always watched the fireworks together as a family.

All holiday celebrations were now difficult for Jessie, who didn’t know if she could ever love again. She knew the kind of love she had experienced with Jonathan was a thing of the past. But life had to go on, even though holidays still reminded her of her loss. The 4th in particular had been the hardest one for her – and young Jonathan – to face during the last two years. Perhaps it was because it had come so soon after her husband’s death. This year she had bit the bullet and gone, if only for her son’s sake. Young Jonathan had wanted to go and celebrate, probably because it was also the first holiday since the death of his father’s killer. That man, Alfonse Sweetzer, had been found dead in the library, which had initially pointed the finger of guilt at Jessie and her son. But that was last month and now things were starting to look up for them.

Perhaps young Jonathan was right: a fireworks display might wipe clean the anger and hurt that old man had caused. At least now Jessie could watch the rockets explode and remember fond memories of past holidays with her beloved.

But now the scent of fresh-mown hay brought her back to the present. As she worked, Jessie reflected on her life at Killdeer Farm. Most people thought she only had a horse and two cats for company, but she had a secret resident in her attached outer building. Ben Ames, the man who had built this farmhouse with his older brother over one hundred and fifty years ago, still occupied her upstairs storage area. Ben Ames was a ghost with a mysterious past.

3

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round

- Troilus and Cressida, 3.2.18

Jessie wondered about Ben’s history as she raked loose hay off the barn floor. She was curious to discover how he came to be vanquished from heaven. It was frustrating. She must learn more from Ben; he was always evasive whenever she quizzed him. Things had changed recently, however, ever since helping solve the mystery of Alfonse Sweetzer’s death. Her new interrogation skills should help her out.

But that would have to wait until another day, she thought, as she turned and ambled outside after hearing Hamlet – fondly called Ham – calling to her from a back pasture. He galloped towards the closest edge of the rail fence, digging his hoofs into the lush green grass as he came to an abrupt halt. Raising and lowering his head rapidly, he was tempting her. Ham loved galloping across the fields with her on his back as much as she did. Trail riding was a time when horse and rider bonded.

Perhaps later, Jessie laughed at Ham as she returned his greeting. I still have work to do. She chuckled over Ham’s antics as she turned back to the barn. She absentmindedly cleaned Ham’s stall as she thought about how lucky she was to have such a lovely home. Her husband had renovated this barn before they had found Ham and made him part of their family seven years ago. There was room across from Ham’s stall to have more animals, but right now Jessie had no desire to own more creatures. She had thought about raising chickens, but Cassie supplied her with all the eggs she needed and Mark Merryfield was a never ending source for fresh chicken meat.

Jessie was still working on the stall when she heard Willa shout from outside: Hey, look who’s just arrived in town.

Jessie glanced out the barn door to see Willa approaching arm-in-arm with her father. Hi, Joe, long time no see, Jessie greeted Willa’s father. Walking outside with the barn fork in one hand, Jessie took an absentminded swipe onto the leg of her jeans with the other hand before she stretched it out to shake Joe’s extended one. She hoped her hand was clean as she said, What a treat to have you in Wyleyville. Willa said you’d be visiting this summer.

Cassie had been married and divorced three times. The result of those eventful unions had been her four daughters. Cassie’s second-born was a stunning brunette with chocolate brown eyes. Since she had recently reached the six-foot mark, she was even taller than the five foot ten inch Jessie.

Daddy’s staying in Maine for a couple of weeks. Isn’t that great? Willa glowed with pleasure as she gazed up at her six foot four inch father.

It sure is, but I understand that the two of you will be taking a side trip together. What’s the plan?

I’m taking Willa away to do some sea kayaking. I spend too much time in the city and I do miss the country. Joe was a lawyer who lived in Boston, so this would, indeed, be a change for him. We have an invitation to make Ruffy Island our home base while we take day trips along the coast. We’re spending a couple of days here first, but we hope to be on our way by Wednesday.

Then I need to have you all over to dinner very soon. I didn’t know you had arrived yet. Jessie excused herself long enough to return the barn fork to its hanging spot inside the stable. When she returned outside, she continued with a laugh, I need to keep better track of my neighbors’ activities.

I only got in last evening, so you aren’t too far behind the local gossip. I spent last weekend on Ruffy Island. I went there to set up this excursion, but a friend from my school days had a slight problem and I was delayed returning. He just needed to talk to a friend, but now I plan to spend the rest of my time in Maine with my favorite daughter.

Much to Jessie’s surprise, the sensible Willa giggled like the typical teenager she most definitely was not. Daddy, do you have any other daughters I don’t know about?

No, of course not, Joe smiled, but even if I had a hundred, you would always be my favorite. Joe gave his daughter a quick hug before returning to his conversation with Jessie. And I would love to come over for dinner some evening.

How about tomorrow night? That is, if you don’t have other plans. To Joe’s nod, Jessie said, I’ll check with Cassie, and see if everyone is free.

Great. Isn’t Cassie generous to let me stay here while I’m in Maine?

Cassie wants Willa to be happy. Of course she would invite you to stay. As the three began walking slowly towards Merryfield Lane, Jessie said, I’ll call Cassie and set it up. What are you two up to this morning?

We’re going for a walk around the neighborhood. Dad wants to see if anything has changed. We’re going to stop by to see Aunt Mary and Uncle Bart. They’re home today, so they invited us over for brunch. Willa’s smile broadened at the thought. "Yum, you know what a good cook Uncle