Murder in the Meadow

By Sherry Derr-Wille

As Rhonda moves to a detective position with the county sheriff’s office her first lead case is the murder of the most hated man in the county. George Atkins has been killed with his own pitchfork while spreading manure. The fact the elderly man was out in a raging blizzard makes no sense. Why would he be out in such inclement weather? As the case progresses, threats are made against other members in the family, until Rhonda finally reveals the most unexpected suspect with a deep seeded hatred for the Atkins family for what he believes has been done to him in the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781624207860

Book preview

Murder in the Meadow

The Rhonda Pohs Mysteries Book Two

Sherry Derr-Wille

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press, LLP for Smashwords

Copyright © 2024

ISBN: 978-1-62420-798-3

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, LLP. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book to my many fans who have been requesting murder mysteries for the past several years.

Chapter One

Rhonda Pohs sat at her desk. Outside, the steadily falling snow reminded her winter was far from over. Being a detective, she no longer wore a uniform. Instead, she had chosen a Kelly-green pantsuit in honor of St. Patrick’s Day.

Since joining the county detective squad, she’d helped investigate a couple murders, including a triple homicide at one of the local trailer parks, but hadn’t had a case of her own.

She felt as though the other detectives merely tolerated the only female member of their squad. If she thought her first boss, Chief Jack Franks, was a male chauvinist, he couldn’t hold a candle to this group.

Hey, Rhonda, Phil Mason said as he entered her office. We just got a call that’s perfect for you. It’s out in the country and I’m supposed to go with you, but you’re the primary. Some guy was killed with a pitchfork while spreading manure.

You’re kidding, right?

Not at all. We told you we give all the new detectives the shit work and it doesn’t get any shittier than this.

Very funny.

She reached under her desk and pulled out a pair of snow boots she kept at the office for emergencies. If she planned to go traipsing around in a snow and manure-covered field, she wanted to be prepared.

Phil drove as they went out into the countryside south of town. Rhonda knew these fields were some of the most fertile farmland in this part of the state.

Dispatch identified the victim as George Adkins, the patriarch of one of the largest farming families in the county. To say the man didn’t have enemies would be considered a gross understatement. He’d stepped on a lot of toes in the seventy-plus years he’d been building on the farming empire his grandfather started in the late-eighteen hundreds.

How much do you know about farming? Rhonda asked, as they drove past the farm with the sign ‘Adkins Homestead EST. 1884’ in the front yard.

I know they smell to high heaven in the summer. Other than that, not much. I’m a city boy. How about you?

My grandparents farmed out here. Before they died, George bought the property from them and they moved into town. I know my grandpa used to spread manure, but I thought the modern-day farmers all used slurry stores.

Slurry what? Phil echoed.

Rhonda smiled. At last, she had something over on Phil. A slurry store is where they process the manure into liquid fertilizer.

You mean they make fertilizer out of cow shit?

Of course, they do. It’s nature’s way of putting nutrients back into the ground. You’ve heard of Milorginite, haven’t you?

Sure, I have. That’s what I use on my lawn. What does my lawn treatment have to do with anything?

It’s made from a waste product then sold to you. It’s a good fertilizer, and I bet you paid dearly for it. I should know. Mark and I put it on our lawn last year.

Well, I’ll be damned. I never knew it was made from shit. Guess this will be a learning experience for me.

Ahead of them, Rhonda saw a squad car, ambulance, and fire truck. A lump formed in her throat when she realized the field where the murder happened once was the site of her grandparents’ farm. Instead of the well-kept farm buildings, fields covered the entire area, stretching across the countryside without a fence in sight.

After Phil parked the car, Rhonda got out and went up to her knees in the snow drifting into the ditch.

The coroner should be here soon, said the deputy, who was probably the first one on the scene.

Rhonda noticed he stood with his back to the corpse to avoid the wind blowing the snow around.

Rhonda stepped around the deputy to get a better look at the body. He lay on the ground, a small drift of snow starting to cover him like a soft blanket. Protruding from his chest was a three-tined pitchfork. A horrific expression was frozen on his face. Thankfully, someone had taken the time to close his eyes so she didn’t have to look into his death stare.

She took her cell phone from the pocket of her parka and snapped pictures from various angles before going up to the house to confront the grieving family. They remained in the snow-covered field until the coroner arrived and took the body back to the hospital to do the autopsy. With that done, Rhonda was glad to get out of the biting wind.

Trudging back across the field, Rhonda got back in the cold car. No matter how good the heater was she knew it would never warm up by the time they reached the farmhouse less than half a mile away.

~ * ~

A fire blazed in the fireplace of the family room of the Adkins home when Rhonda and Phil entered the room. As much as she wanted to go and stand in front of the grate to warm her hands, she knew it would be unprofessional.

I’m Detective Rhonda Pohs, she said, holding out her hand to George’s oldest child, David.

I know who you are, he growled, ignoring her gesture of professional greeting. You’re Ray and Jenny’s granddaughter. You weren’t much more than a snot-nosed kid when Pa bought their place. Sure, never expected you to become a cop.

Rhonda ignored the obvious dig as she looked around the room. George’s widow, Margie, who was obviously much younger than he, sat closest to the fireplace, crying. Rhonda could see through her. Even though the tears were real, Rhonda suspected they weren’t sincere. Being so many years George’s junior, it was entirely possible she could be set to get a large inheritance after his death.

Sitting on the couch were George’s twin grandsons, Roscoe, and Norton. She remembered them from high school. They had teased her unmercifully about everything from her freckles to her good grades.

Seated on the leather loveseat were George’s daughter, Virginia and her husband, Fred Crawford. Since they lived on one of the family farms, it was no wonder they had been able to get there so quickly.

I need to know what happened here today.

She took out a pad from her purse to take notes.

Ain’t it clear to you? Pa was murdered, David snapped.

Rhonda took a deep breath. She’d never had a good rapport with this family, so doing this investigation was going to be far from a walk in the park.

I saw a slurry store system out by the barn when we pulled in, Rhonda continued. Why was George out spreading manure, especially in this snowstorm?

Before any one of them could answer, Rhonda’s mind formulated an explanation. Knowing George, it was entirely possible his family thought if he went out in the blizzard, he might contract pneumonia and die. The money the old man would be leaving in his estate would give any one of the people in this room a motive for murder.

Pa liked to do things the old-fashioned way, David commented, breaking into Rhonda’s thoughts. He even insisted on buying a new spreader. I always keep a pile of manure for him to spread. It makes...ah...made him feel useful. ‘Course the boys were always on me to put that shit in the slurry store, but I did my damnedest to ignore them. He was an old man. It didn’t hurt to humor him. He was ninety-two, you know.

Rhonda nodded. Ninety-two sounded about right. David had to be pushing seventy and Virginia was possibly in her sixties. Since David hadn’t married until late in life, the twins were only in their early thirties. From what she’d heard, neither of them had any marriage prospects in the future. It was no wonder, since just thinking about them from when they went to high school made her nose wrinkle. They always smelled like the very manure George had been spreading when he died.

Was there any problem before George went out to the field?

We...We had an argument, Margie offered. I told him it was too cold for him to be out there. He told me he’d lived through the winter of ‘thirty-six and this was mild in comparison.

Rhonda shivered as she made her notes. She’d just about frozen to death out in the field, and the thought of working in such conditions was chilling. She certainly couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Who could have wanted him dead? Margie sobbed. Everybody respected him.

Respected him? Hell, half the people in this county hated that old bastard’s guts, Norton declared.

Most of them had good reason, too, Roscoe agreed.

What do you mean? Rhonda asked.

Both men became strangely silent. David finally replied. I think hate is a mighty strong word. Pa always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. With this economy, a lot of the neighbors are losing their farms. Pa bought them out just like he did your grandparents, Rhonda. A lot of people thought he cheated them, but that’s all water over the dam. They’d gotten a lot less out of the property if the bank went through with the foreclosures.

Rhonda knew all about the money George paid for his neighbors’ farms. Land once worth up to a thousand dollars an acre sold for five hundred dollars or less, depending on the circumstances. On her note pad she wrote: former neighbors and family. Right now, they were her prime suspects.

~ * ~

Well, that was certainly interesting, Phil commented once they left the farm. With a family like that, it’s a wonder he made it to the age of ninety-two.

I tend to agree with you. David and Virginia weren’t too broken up. Virginia didn’t say a single word and neither did her hubby. As for David’s wife, she had about as much emotion as those logs by the fireplace. Of course, the twins were always weird. The only one crying was Margie, but she didn’t seem sincere. From what I’ve heard, they got married over twenty-five years ago. Some people say it was a love match, but I have my doubts. At his age, I doubt he could have been much of a husband to her.

Do you think she has someone on the side?

It’s possible. She can’t be much older than sixty. She probably thought he’d die before this and leave her with a hefty inheritance. After the funeral, we’ll call her in for questioning along with the rest of the family.

Phil made no comment, giving Rhonda time to think about the people she’d just left.

Even though she didn’t like most of them, she saw no clear-cut motive for murder.

Chapter Two

By the morning of the visitation, David called Rhonda at least fifteen times with names of friends, neighbors, and important people in the county to add to the growing list of suspects.

The night of the visitation, Rhonda arrived at the funeral home early to observe the people who came to pay their respects. Going through the line first, she marveled at the plain pine casket as well as the casket spray. Rather than the usual flowers, the top of the casket was covered with shafts of wheat held together with barbed wire.

When she mentioned the unique casket and spray, Virginia said her father ordered the casket years ago from a monastery in Iowa and stored it in one of the outbuildings. As for the spray, that had been his idea as well. He’d planned the entire funeral in great detail.

As she’d done when she investigated the case of Karl Reedman’s brutal death, Rhonda sat listening to the conversations of the mourners as they waited in line to speak with the family. Many people commented about his advanced age. They wondered why anyone would bother murdering him. Another pointed out how George’s father lived to be a hundred and two and his grandfather died at the age of ninety-nine. They speculated with such a family history it was entirely possible someone didn’t want to wait for George to die a natural death.

Aren’t you Rhonda Cagle? a man said as he took the seat next to her.

She turned to look at him. When she did, she realized the man sitting next to her was none other than Tom Adkins, David’s oldest son. He’d moved away so many years ago, she’d all but forgotten about him. I’m sorry for your loss, Tom, she said, extending her hand.

Unlike his father, he clasped her hand between both of his. Don’t be. I clashed with that old man and my father years ago. I’m only here because Mom insisted, I come home.

Rhonda recalled Tom being two years ahead of her in high school and that he’d left the area right after graduation. Even though she hadn’t seen him in almost twenty years, she could still feel the butterflies taking up residence in her stomach, like every time he’d talked to her when they were kids. He was still devilishly handsome, with the gray at his temples only adding to his natural good looks. She glanced down and saw he was wearing a wedding ring. So, where are you living now?

Tom smiled at her. I was smart. After college I moved to Alabama and started a business. It’s going very well. I did get married and have a couple of kids. Mom comes down twice a year for a visit, but the old man won’t even acknowledge his grandchildren. It’s a shame, since my kids are probably the only grandchildren he’ll ever have. It doesn’t look like either of the twins will get married. What about you?

I married Mark Pohs. We don’t have any kids and don’t plan on any. I went through college and the police academy before Jack Franks hired me for the village police department. Now I work for the county as a detective. As a matter of fact, I’m investigating your grandfather’s murder.

You’re a cop? I would never have guessed. It makes me wish I’d done the old boy in so you could handcuff me. Why didn’t we ever get together in school?

Until Tom put in the last dig, Rhonda had been flattered. Now she realized not much had changed from high school. He was still the most popular boy in school and she was still the nerd who’d screwed up the grading curve in every one of her classes.

You mentioned Jack Franks, Tom continued when Rhonda gave no answer to his redundant question. What was it we called him, oh yes, Barney. Is he still hanging around?

Rhonda nodded. He’s still the police chief. They’ll probably carry him out of his office feet first. The most excitement he’s ever had, came when they found Karl Reedman murdered out at Storrs Lake. It wasn’t planned, but I ended up investigating the case and solving the murder. When the case ended, the county approached me. It was a good promotion. To be honest, this is the first case where I’ve been the primary.

Hearing about Rhonda’s accomplishments didn’t seem to be what interested Tom. He quickly excused himself and went to the line of people to talk to different friends he probably hadn’t seen in over twenty years. It didn’t bother her. She was here to work, not socialize with an egotistical grandson who certainly would rather be anywhere but here.

With Tom off visiting other mourners, Rhonda relaxed enough to get back to scanning the people lined up to give their condolences to the family.

City leaders in suits mingled with young people and farmers in blue jeans and bib overalls. As she had in the past, Rhonda listened intently to the conversations of the people waiting in line.

Why would anyone bother murdering the old bastard? At ninety-two, why not let nature take its course?

I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to do him in. After the way he cheated my folks, he certainly deserved to die. Whoever did him in should be getting a medal.

I can’t see this solving the problem. David is just as bad as the old man. Of course, we can’t forget the twins. The two of them have always been operating on only three cylinders. You can bet they’ve learned everything their dad and granddad had to teach them. I did see Tom here. I’m sure he’s the only normal one in the bunch.

Rhonda tended to agree with the mourners. Most people had a low opinion of George Adkins. Even if he was the richest farmer in the county, the way he got his money was far from being on the up and up.

She made a quick note of the name of the young man who felt George cheated his family. As she did, she began to smile. If she put every family who sold cheap to George on the list, she’d have to add her own name to the disgruntled neighbors. Until the day her grandfather died, he talked