Fogbound: A Lin Hanna Mystery (23 page)

“OK, Sherlock,
you’re on the team,” Sue grinned. “Let’s see what we can turn up about the old
unsolved cases—one of them anyway.
 
Maybe we’ll figure out what’s going on right now.”

***

The next
afternoon found them heading out Hwy 194 toward the small community of
Todd.
 
Following Mildred Fletcher’s
directions, they turned down a smaller side road and then onto another even
smaller byway going deeper into the rural backcountry.
 
It was actually a beautiful drive.
 
There were thick woods and verdant
pastures dotted with wildflowers.
 
They saw only a few small houses tucked back away from the road.
 
Soon they spotted the road they were
looking for.
 
There was no road name
or house number, but a small wooden sign beside a rickety mailbox said Hinson.
 
This road was dirt.
 
They crossed a one lane wooden bridge
that spanned the South Fork of the New River, an unusual stream that was
actually one of the oldest rivers in the country.
 
It flowed north toward the Ohio River
basin, eventually emptying its waters into the Gulf of Mexico rather than the
nearby Atlantic.
 
Protected as a
Wild and Scenic River, it was a popular canoeing and tubing spot, but today, in
this location, it was empty of visitors.

They traveled a
short distance beyond the river passing through a short wooded span that opened
up to a broad pasture overgrown with wildflowers and surrounded by a split rail
fence that had obviously seen better days.

A small wooden
house that hadn’t seen a coat of paint in years, maybe in its lifetime, sat
just beyond the pasture.
 
Next to it
was a barn, larger than the house, and in somewhat better condition.
 
They could hear the sound of a power saw
coming from the barn.
 
A pen next to
it held a large sow and several piglets.
 
Chickens walked about the yard, pecking at bits of corn that had been
scattered for them.
 
The yard was
adorned with various rusted farm implements.
 
The front porch of the house sagged a
bit, even though it was clear that someone had recently braced it with
carefully placed stacks of cinder blocks.
 
Seated in a rocking chair on this porch was Eustace Hinson.

The old man
rose when they got out of the car but didn’t seem to recognize them.
 
One cheek bulged from what Lin assumed
was a wad of chewing tobacco, and he arched a stream of dark brown spit off the
side of the porch as he came down the steps toward them.

“Who the hell
are you? What the hell do you want?” he yelled, waving a fist above his head,
“Get the hell off my property.”
 
He
turned to look toward the barn door, “Where’s my shotgun?” He was growing more
agitated by the minute.
 
Sue stepped
forward and spoke in a calm voice.

“Mr. Hinson,
I’m Sue Gray, and this is my friend Lin Hanna.
 
We’re just here looking for your
grandson, Luke Taylor.
 
Someone told
us he lived with you.
 
We have some
business with him. Is he here?”
 
Sue’s
calm demeanor impressed Lin.
 
It
seemed to have a positive effect on the old man.
 
He didn’t say anything, but he was
quiet.
 
Finally, he started walking
toward the barn where the buzz of the saw could still be heard.
 
Sue and Lin followed him, taking care to
stay well back.
 
When he entered the
barn, they remained outside by the door.

In a few
moments they heard the saw stop; a young, bearded man covered in sawdust came
to the door. “I’m Luke Taylor,” he wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Are you
here about some furniture or cabinets?”

Sue started to
say something, but Lin had a flash of inspiration and touched Sue’s arm as a
signal to let her speak.
 
“Yes, yes
we are,” Lin said. “Someone suggested we talk to you, see some of your
work.
 
I’m looking to have some
furniture made.”
 
Sue looked a bit
puzzled, but she went along.

“ Come on in
then, this is where I have my shop,” Luke indicated that they should follow him
into the barn. “It’s OK grandpa, these ladies are here on business.”

Eustace turned
silently, spit more tobacco juice on the ground, and shuffled back toward the
porch without a word.

“I hope he didn’t
yell at you too much,” Luke said as they followed him inside. “His mind isn’t
good any more, and he forgets that people come out here to see me.
 
I can’t do my work and stay with him
every minute.
 
Usually, he just sits
quietly on the porch, but he isn’t very welcoming to visitors, I’m afraid.”

“That’s not a
problem, Luke,” Lin continued, “we understand.”

The barn had
been converted into a woodworking shop that was in much better condition than
the adjacent house.
 
One side
contained shelves and the tools of Luke’s trade.
 
On the other side were several finished
pieces and some works in progress.
 
Sue and Lin were both impressed with what they saw.
 
Luke Taylor was a talented
craftsman.
 
Lin ran her hand over
the smooth grain of a beautiful oak desk.
 
Only the drawers were missing.

“You do
beautiful work, Luke.
 
This desk
will serve someone for many years.”

“Thanks,” Luke
said, “I love the woods.
 
I love the
way they feel, and I love to find the beauty in the grain.
 
Look at this,” he indicated a stack of
rough planks, obviously cut from a huge log, “I just got these from the sawmill
down the road apiece, it’s from a big wild cherry tree that had to be cut
down.
 
It was dying.
 
Don’t find many large wild cherries any
more.
 
I’se glad to get this
stuff.
 
It’ll make a lot of nice
furniture.”

Lin couldn’t
help but admire the rich red brown wood even in its rough-sawn state.
 
She could easily imagine what a
beautiful desk could be made from this cherry.
 
It would perfectly complement the
antique cherry cabinet that had belonged to Neal’s grandfather.
 
Here was the perfect wedding gift.

“How much would
it cost to make a desk from this, perhaps something similar to that oak desk
you’re working on over there.”

Luke thought
for a few moments.
 
He gave her a
ballpark estimate, based on the cost of the wood and the time it would
take.
 
“I ‘d give you a firmer price
if I knew the exact measurements you wanted,” he said.

Fortunately,
Lin remembered the size of the space Neal had determined would be an ideal spot
for a desk.
 
“ It needs to fit into
a space about seven feet wide and the depth shouldn’t be greater than three
feet.”

This time Luke
went over to a workbench where he picked up a pencil and paper and began to do
some calculations.
 
In a moment he
returned with a price that Lin found more than reasonable, especially
considering it would be a handcrafted piece.
 
She smiled at the young man.
 
“When could you do this? I need it for a
gift and I’d want it by the end of the summer.
 
There’s another matter.
 
I’d need to get it down to Charlotte,
actually to my home in Davidson.”

“I can get it
done by then, and I have a friend who’ll help me with the delivery.
 
That’s an extra charge, of course, but I
do a good bit of work for folks who come up here in the summer months.
 
I’ve been to Charlotte to deliver things
before.”

“Then we have a
deal,” Lin said.
 
Sue had been quiet
during all of this transaction.
 
She’d been content to let Lin do her business, knowing that this would
give them a legitimate reason to stay in close touch with Luke Taylor.
 
It would be better to save the
discussion of his girlfriend’s murder until he’d gotten to know them
better.
 

“There’s just
one thing,” Luke said. “The space you described calls for a more rectangular
desk with less depth than this oak one over here.
 
It’s squarer and has really deep
drawers.
 
I have some ideas though
about something that would work in your space.
 
Could I maybe make a couple of drawings
and do some specs for you to look at?
 
Maybe we could meet again in a couple of days and you could decide.
 
Then I’ll get started right away.”

“That would be
great,” Lin said eyeing Sue. “We work as volunteers on the parkway but we’re
staying in Boone.
 
Could you maybe
come by our house one evening?”

Luke agreed
readily and Sue wrote directions to their house on some paper for him.
 
It was decided that he would come by
Wednesday evening about five.

Having
concluded their business, Lin and Sue returned to their car and began the drive
back across the river toward the highway.

“I didn’t
intend to dominate this visit,” Lin apologized. “I hadn’t mentioned it to you,
but I’ve decided to get Neal a new desk for a wedding present.
 
He’s not moving his old one, says it
ready to discard.
 
I fell in love
with that cherry wood Luke had.”

“Don’t be
sorry,” Sue said. “Actually, this is perfect.
 
I wasn’t sure how I was going to bring
up the subject of Sara’s death anyway and now it will be easier to do. I think
Luke will be more willing to talk as he gets to know us better, plus it’ll be
good to talk to him away from his grandfather.
 
Besides, he’s obviously a skilled
woodworker.
 
The new desk should be
beautiful.
 
Neal will love it.”

“I hope so,”
Lin said. She told Sue about the antique cabinet belonging to Neal’s
grandfather that was also made of cherry.
 

“Another good
thing,” Sue added. “I’m sure Eustace didn’t recognize us so I don’t think he’ll
say anything to Luke about encountering us earlier.
 
The two of them seem to live there
alone.
 
I guess Luke is the primary
caretaker of his grandfather at this point.
 
It’s still early and this is a fine day.
 
Are you up for some further
investigation?”

“Sure,” Lin
said, “actually, we didn’t really do any investigating back there—just
set things up for the future.”

“Well, I wasn’t
sure we’d have time for this, but I also managed to find an address for the widow
of the young park ranger who was shot at Jeffress Park in March of 2010, just a
few month’s after Sara Fletcher died.
 

“How did you
accomplish that?” Lin asked.

“Well, the
ranger’s name was Bryan Lee, that was in the news accounts. They also mentioned
that he had a wife, Olivia, and a two-year old son.
 
I checked the phone directory first, but
no luck—lots of Lees but no Olivia—not even anyone with O as an
initial.
 
I decided to ask the
reference librarian who was on duty at the time and she remembered the case. She
thought the ranger’s wife worked part-time at Appalachian Ski Mountain, at
least she did then. I called there and they told me that she still worked there
seasonally, or at least she did last season.
 
They were able to give me an address for
her and a cell phone number.
 
I
tried to call her last night but had to leave a message, and she hasn’t
returned the call; maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me.
 
The address might not be current, but we
can give it a try.”

By this time
they were back in Boone.
 
Sue drove
through downtown and turned right on Water Street, heading up a steep road
toward a set of condos that graced a high ridge.
 
There was a view that took in most of
the university campus from a parking lot that was only about half filled with
cars.
 
They located the number and
pulled up in front of a three level condo—two stories rising above a
single car garage.
 
Several “For
Rent” signs graced the front doors of nearby units.

“I’ll bet this
place is packed with students during the school year,” Sue commented. “ I
wonder why a mother with a young child would choose to live here.”

“Maybe the rent
is reasonable,” Lin replied. “I’m sure it couldn’t be the peace and quiet.
 
I’ll bet this place is pretty lively,
especially on weekends after the students have all moved in.”

Sue nodded her
agreement as they parked their car and approached the front door.
 
Sure enough, there was a nameplate above
the peephole that said Lee.
 
Sue
rang the doorbell but there was no answer.
 
After a couple of tries, they decided that Olivia Lee must not be at
home. “Maybe she has another job during the summer months,” Lin suggested.
“With a young child to support…”

She was cut
short by the sound of the front door of the adjacent condo opening.
 
A young man with a scruffy beard and
dark curly hair leaned out.
 
He
looked sleepy.
 
“If you’re looking
for Livvy, she’s at work,” he offered. “She just left about an hour ago and she
won’t be home til’ late.”