Tags:
Fiction,
Mystery,
amateur sleuth,
Murder,
Historical Mystery,
antiques,
soft-boiled,
murder mystery,
mystery novels,
amateur sleuth novel,
regional fiction,
regional mystery,
flowers
non-emergency number. No answer there either, and she hung up before the call switched to the county line. Well, this really wasn’t her business anyway. Dellyn would probably tell the cops on her own. Bonnie had mailed a suicide note, evidently just before driving to the trail and killing herself. Case closed.
The best thing she could do for Dellyn was get back to work in the attic. The thought of ascending back into that purgatory of heat and dust and clutter made Chloe break out in a sweat. Some friend you are, she berated herself, and forced herself to move.
She spent a good hour in the attic before retreating back to the kitchen. After rummaging in the fridge, Chloe settled back at the table with a slice of the banana bread she’d brought the other morning—which she knew was quite edible, thank you—and a glass of tea. Valerie Bing’s magazine article about the Eagle Diamond lay beside her plate. The headline declared, “A Mystery Endures in Eagle.” Idly, Chloe began to read.
1876
Albrecht wiped his forehead with his elbow. He was digging through clay, now. The well shaft smelled rank with his effort, and his eyes stung with sweat. His shirt was soaked. His kerchief was soaked. Even his hat was soaked. He pulled his canteen from the bucket where he’d left it, and gulped greedily. The water was warm and tasted of tin.
“You stopping?” Charles hollered down the shaft.
Albrecht hadn’t planned on stopping yet, actually. He had the energy to send up a few more buckets of earth, and to unload the buckets of limestone Charles sent down to line the shaft. But the irritation in Charles’s tone snapped Albrecht’s patience in two.
“ Ja ,” he yelled back. “I’m coming up.” He began the climb toward sunlight.
Charles was waiting for him, chewing a piece of grass, squinting. “I’ll go down again,” he said, as Albrecht flopped on the grass. “I’m not ready to quit.”
Albrecht watched Charles descend into the hole, then looked toward the garden. Clarissa had made good progress; a wide swath of raw, new-turned earth had been exposed. Clarissa herself was nowhere in sight. Good, he thought. He hoped she’d gone inside, out of the sun, and was taking a rest.
Charles probably never thought to ask his wife if she needed a rest. Just as he hadn’t thought to ask if Albrecht minded staying a while longer. Now that the shaft was so deep, one man was needed on the surface to handle the winch and dump the buckets of earth sent skyward. Albrecht flexed his shoulders, trying to ease their ache.
“Mr. Bachmeier?”
Albrecht scrambled to his feet so fast he almost lost his balance. “Mrs. Wood!”
“I thought you might like some switchel.” She still wore her bonnet, but so close, he could make out her face beneath the brim.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. He sipped slowly, savoring the tang of apple vinegar-and-water; savoring even more the chance to stand so close to Clarissa. She smelled of sweat too, but hers was somehow sweet.
Finally, the tin cup was empty. He handed it back with reluctance, hoping his fingers might brush hers. They didn’t.
“It looks like your garden is coming right along,” he said, feeling a little desperate.
She smiled. “Oh, yes. I can’t wait to start planting. Vegetables, of course, but I must have flowers too.”
She’s a good woman, Albrecht thought. A good helpmeet. He tried to think of something else to say, but Clarissa was already turning away.
Chloe drained the last of her tea as she finished the article. Interesting stuff, although she was curious about the woman mentioned. Clarissa Wood had become a widow some time after the Eagle Diamond had been found, but when? How? Wisconsin Byways was a glossy magazine intended for a general audience. No handy footnotes.
Well, Mr. Burke had compiled a file on the diamond, right? Dellyn wouldn’t mind if she looked through his records. Besides, the office was at least twenty degrees cooler than the
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