Read Online 3 Coming Unraveled by Marjorie Sorrell Rockwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marjorie Sorrell Rockwell
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the tent,” said Little William. “Took to his bed. Seems upset about something. Maybe he wishes he’d found that money.”
Chapter Nineteen
First thing next morning, Mark Tidemore walked over to his mother-in-law’s house on Melon Pickers Row. It was only a few blocks from where he and Tilly lived in one of those big houses facing the town square. He found her scrambling eggs for Beauregard. She gestured for him to sit down at the table and broke another three eggs into the hot cast-iron skillet.
“Something’s bothering me,” he said as she poured him a cup of coffee. Beau was dutifully ignoring them, reading the morning paper.
“What?” she responded. “The way you kicked us out of the police station yesterday?”
“No, I had to do that. Something else.”
“I know you were only doing your job,” she said, serving the eggs along with toast and two slices of bacon. “It’s just frustrating to have loose ends.”
“Seems the case against Harry’s pretty air tight,” he commented. “I’ll deny saying it, but most I can hope to do is get him a reduced sentence. It would be easier if he’d cooperate a little.”
“What brought you over here this time of morning? I know it wasn’t my watermelon jam.”
“That would be reason enough,” he said, spreading the pink jam onto his toast.
“But –?”
He produced the snapshot he’d got from Sad Sammy. “Do you have a magnifying glass?” he asked.
“There one over there in the junk drawer,” Beau spoke up without lowering his newspaper.
Maddy pulled it out and handed it to her son-in-law. “What are we looking at?”
“A photograph of Baumgartner’s farm on the day those boys went missing in 1982. I think they may be in this picture.”
Maddy bent over the color snapshot, squinting through the magnifying glass. “Yes, I see them. That boy climbing over the fence looks like Bobby Ray. I remember him. His parents went to our church. The one in the middle might be Harry, judging from the way he’s hanging his head. Reminds me of that hangdog look he had at the jail yesterday.”
“Hm, you could be right.”
“I assume one of the other two boys is Jud Watson. I don’t remember him very well. But why are there four figures in this picture? There were only three Lost Boys.”
“ Yes,” nodded her son-in-law. “That’s the question of the day.”
Chapter Twenty
“The ICE folks stopped Bernard Warbuckle as he was trying to cross into Canada at Windsor,” Chief Jim Purdue told the mayor when they met for coffee at the Cozy Diner that afternoon.
“That a fact?” Beau was blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down enough to be drinkable.
“ They picked him up about an hour ago. That ol’ boy was hightailing it out of the country,” the chief nodded. “Windsor’s Ambassador Bridge is the southernmost US-Canada border crossing.”
“They were watching for him, huh?”
“There was a BOLO on him. But the reason they caught him was because he tried to run the crossing gate. Must have panicked.”
Beau Madison sipped at his coffee, careful not to burn his lips. “Have they been able to prove that he’s Jud Watson?”
“Not yet. But the state boys are on their way out to Myrtle’s place to take a swab to map her DNA. Just a matter of time.”
“I take it, he’s not talking.”
“Said he’s Bernard Warbuckle and that he’s on his way to visit a cousin in Winnipeg.”
Beau snorted. “How does he explain running the barrier?”
“Claims his accelerator pedal stuck.”
“Good luck with that story.”
“State’s filing to bring him back to Indy. His goose is cooked.”
“Like a Thanksgiving dinner,” agreed Beau Madison.
≈≈≈
Maddy gathered up the Quilters Club and drove out to the Baumgartner farm that same afternoon. It was a pretty summer day with puffy white clouds filling the blue sky. The temperature was hovering at 98° when they pulled up to the wooden gate that
Chapter Nineteen
First thing next morning, Mark Tidemore walked over to his mother-in-law’s house on Melon Pickers Row. It was only a few blocks from where he and Tilly lived in one of those big houses facing the town square. He found her scrambling eggs for Beauregard. She gestured for him to sit down at the table and broke another three eggs into the hot cast-iron skillet.
“Something’s bothering me,” he said as she poured him a cup of coffee. Beau was dutifully ignoring them, reading the morning paper.
“What?” she responded. “The way you kicked us out of the police station yesterday?”
“No, I had to do that. Something else.”
“I know you were only doing your job,” she said, serving the eggs along with toast and two slices of bacon. “It’s just frustrating to have loose ends.”
“Seems the case against Harry’s pretty air tight,” he commented. “I’ll deny saying it, but most I can hope to do is get him a reduced sentence. It would be easier if he’d cooperate a little.”
“What brought you over here this time of morning? I know it wasn’t my watermelon jam.”
“That would be reason enough,” he said, spreading the pink jam onto his toast.
“But –?”
He produced the snapshot he’d got from Sad Sammy. “Do you have a magnifying glass?” he asked.
“There one over there in the junk drawer,” Beau spoke up without lowering his newspaper.
Maddy pulled it out and handed it to her son-in-law. “What are we looking at?”
“A photograph of Baumgartner’s farm on the day those boys went missing in 1982. I think they may be in this picture.”
Maddy bent over the color snapshot, squinting through the magnifying glass. “Yes, I see them. That boy climbing over the fence looks like Bobby Ray. I remember him. His parents went to our church. The one in the middle might be Harry, judging from the way he’s hanging his head. Reminds me of that hangdog look he had at the jail yesterday.”
“Hm, you could be right.”
“I assume one of the other two boys is Jud Watson. I don’t remember him very well. But why are there four figures in this picture? There were only three Lost Boys.”
“ Yes,” nodded her son-in-law. “That’s the question of the day.”
Chapter Twenty
“The ICE folks stopped Bernard Warbuckle as he was trying to cross into Canada at Windsor,” Chief Jim Purdue told the mayor when they met for coffee at the Cozy Diner that afternoon.
“That a fact?” Beau was blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down enough to be drinkable.
“ They picked him up about an hour ago. That ol’ boy was hightailing it out of the country,” the chief nodded. “Windsor’s Ambassador Bridge is the southernmost US-Canada border crossing.”
“They were watching for him, huh?”
“There was a BOLO on him. But the reason they caught him was because he tried to run the crossing gate. Must have panicked.”
Beau Madison sipped at his coffee, careful not to burn his lips. “Have they been able to prove that he’s Jud Watson?”
“Not yet. But the state boys are on their way out to Myrtle’s place to take a swab to map her DNA. Just a matter of time.”
“I take it, he’s not talking.”
“Said he’s Bernard Warbuckle and that he’s on his way to visit a cousin in Winnipeg.”
Beau snorted. “How does he explain running the barrier?”
“Claims his accelerator pedal stuck.”
“Good luck with that story.”
“State’s filing to bring him back to Indy. His goose is cooked.”
“Like a Thanksgiving dinner,” agreed Beau Madison.
≈≈≈
Maddy gathered up the Quilters Club and drove out to the Baumgartner farm that same afternoon. It was a pretty summer day with puffy white clouds filling the blue sky. The temperature was hovering at 98° when they pulled up to the wooden gate that
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