Good Enough: A Shay James Mystery Page 5

The girls ate in dispirited silence while Jolene bustled around the kitchen preparing sandwiches, dishing up bowls of her special homemade chicken noodle soup, and trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to Shay that this foster mom tried to solve all of life’s problems with food. Well, at least Jolene’s food was tasty, Shay thought, and there were certainly worse ways to try to manage life.

  “I know you girls are disappointed, but you can’t expect us to let you go into a risky situation,” she said, wiping the counter top clean of the crumbs left from the tuna sandwiches. “You’ve taken care of the horses for today, and Dave will see to it that Mr. Fletcher hires someone else to take care of the animals and his property from now on. These are hard time with lots of people needing work, so there’ll be someone eager for a few extra dollars.”

  “Well, it isn’t fair,” Larissa said as the pout on her face almost formed the words for her. “We can take care of ourselves, at least Shay and I can.”

  “I can, too,” Grace interjected.

  “I know you can under normal circumstances, but this is something altogether different.” Shay couldn’t help but notice that Jolene’s patience never seemed to run out.

  “What normal circumstances?” Larissa asked hotly. “I never had any normal circumstances when I lived with my mom and I did okay!”

  Jolene put down her dish rag and turned to Larissa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know you girls had to take care of yourselves and it’s obvious you managed really well,” she said. “But you have adults in your lives to take care of you now, and it’s our job to protect you. That means we have to put limits on what you’re allowed to do.”

  Larissa opened her sandwich filled mouth to protest, but Shay cut her off.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Shay said. “I’m sure you’re right Jolene. Mr. Fletcher will find someone else to take care of the horses. You said he has lots of money so he can probably afford it.”

  Grace and Larissa both stopped chewing and looked at Shay in surprised silence.

  “I’d like to visit him at the hospital, if that would be all right,” Shay continued. “I want him to know we did our best, and I’d like to see how he’s doing.”

  Jolene turned from the counter and looked at Shay for a moment. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re taking this so well, Shay. You’ve always behaved older than your years.”

  “Well, I’m not old and I’m not taking it well,” Larissa said angrily. “How can you just expect us to leave the horses? You know Mr. Fletcher won’t pay anyone for long. He’ll sell the horses or something awful and then my life will be a huge and miserable mess!”

  Shay looked Larissa squarely in the eye and spoke calmly. “We just have to trust the adults this time, Larissa,” she said. “I’m sure they know what’s best for us.”

  Grace was slowly spooning some of the thick soup into her mouth and watching Shay with a keen interest. She put the spoon down, “I think it’s a good idea if we go visit him,” Grace said. “My mom’s going into town today and she’ll take us with her if we hurry. Is that all right with you, Jolene?” she asked.

  “I guess so,” Jolene said slowly. “In fact, I think it’s a very good idea. I’ll call your mom and make sure it’s okay with her. In the meantime, you girls clean up here.” She left the room to call Grace’s mother and Shay quickly grabbed up the plates and shoved them into the sink, running the hot water over them to drown out her voice. She motioned the other two girls to the counter.

  “What’s with you, Shay?” Larissa asked angrily. “How come you suddenly don’t care about the horses? You know the grownups aren’t going to do this right!”

  “We aren’t going to give up this easily, Larissa,” Shay replied. “But we’re going to have to do this on our own and we’re going to have to keep it between ourselves. If we argue with them, they’ll ground us or something, and then we’ll never find out what happened to Mr. Fletcher.”

  “I knew you had something in mind,” Grace said, grinning. “I knew you wouldn’t really give up. I’m all for it.” She reached for a dish towel and started drying their plates. “What have you got planned for us to do?”

  “I haven’t had time to really think this through, but we can start by talking to Mr. Fletcher and finding out why someone would want to hurt him. There’s something very strange going on here, and we’re going to find out who’s behind it.”

  “You mean we really are going be detectives?” Larissa could barely contain her excitement. She hopped from one foot to the other as she took the plates from Grace and put them in the cupboard.

  “This is serious stuff, Larissa. If we wait for the police to find out anything, then nothing will ever happen. My parents are major thieves and drug dealers but the police never catch them for the big things, just the little stuff that gets them probation or maybe six months in jail. They’ll never catch whoever did this to Mr. Fletcher,” Shay said, shaking her head. “And, Mr. Fletcher won’t pay anyone to take care of the horses for long, so the only thing I can think will happen is that he’ll sell the horses. We can’t let that happen.”

  “I know what you mean about the police not doing anything,” Larissa said slowly, “No one ever found out who murdered my mother, and my father’s been missing for years. I don’t think anyone’s even looked for him,” Larissa added. “My mom was just a hooker and my dad was just a pimp, at least that‘s what the police and my grandfather said. The police don’t work hard on cases that are about losers. So, I know the police won’t do anything about a crabby old guy like Fletcher getting hit on the head. Especially, when he didn’t even die.”

  Shay and Grace looked awkwardly at each other, and then back at Larissa. Neither of them had known what had happened to Larissa’s parents, and they would never have guessed her mother had been murdered. Another lesson Shay had learned from living with her parents was that there was always somebody else’s story that was worse than her own, and it looked like that was true here.

  “We’re here to see Mr. Fletcher,” Shay said to the woman who had finally shown up at the nursing desk. The hospital was small and understaffed, and they had waited patiently for several minutes before anyone even noticed they were there.

  “Third room, down the hall to your right,” the nurse gestured. “Don’t stay long girls; he’s an old man and he tires very easily.” Shay noticed the nurse mentally dismiss them before she even opened the chart in her hand.

  They walked slowly down the hall, afraid to make too much sound in such a strange place. The wide open doors allowed a view into all of the rooms as they passed and the girls tried unsuccessfully to avoid the temptation to peer at the people in the beds in the first two rooms.

  “Do you really want to be a doctor?” Larissa asked Grace. “This place stinks, and the sick people are kind of creepy.” Someone in another room coughed loudly and Larissa grimaced ``Oh, make me gag or what,” she said.

  “They aren’t creepy, they’re sick or injured,” Grace replied. “But I don’t want to be a doctor in a hospital like this. I want to go to a Third World Nation and work in refugee camps. They really need help in those places and you can actually make a difference in the world with that kind of work.”

  There she goes again, Shay thought, more plans for the future. Shay felt Grace’s words fall like an invisible wall between her own world as a foster kid, and the world of normal kids with normal families. But, if normal kids made plans for their futures, then she had better start doing the same, because there was no one to do it for her. She double ticked her earlier mental note.

  They walked into the large room and saw six beds; three against each back wall, and all filled with men watching television or sleeping. Mr. Fletcher was lying in the first bed on the right and to Shay, the whole set up of tubes and wires and machines around his bed was like something out of a science fiction movie. Most of the tubes ran from his hand to a couple of plastic bags hanging above his head. But, he had a tube running up his nose
and a wire attached to something that ran down his chest and he wore a blue hospital gown that was too big and it gave him the look of a little boy trying to play grown up. The gown was stained on the front with what looked like yellow egg yoke, and it made Mr. Fletcher look small and vulnerable, nothing like the tough old guy who yelled at the kids whenever they did something he didn’t like with the horses. The sight of the old man laying there looking so helpless made Shay suddenly feel very protective of him. Ever since the incident had happened, Shay had focused on how the crime threatened her life with the horses; now she felt guilty that she had given so little thought to Mr. Fletcher and what he had suffered. The old man was watching a television that was hooked to the wall and he had the remote in the hand that didn’t have a tube taped to it. He was clicking away from one channel to another with remarkable speed.

  “Hi, Mr. Fletcher,” Grace said and gave a little wave in greeting. She walked to the side of the bed and smiled down at him. He had a bandage on the back of his head, and a day’s worth of unshaved stubble on his chin. His cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut through the thinning skin on his face. “We’ve come to visit you,” she said cheerfully. The other two girls lined up beside her, confused about what to say next. Shay was thankful for Grace’s easy social skills.

  “What are you doing here? Why would you come for a visit?” he asked. His voice had a petulant, whining tone. “Have you killed one of my horses? Don’t tell me you’ve burned down the barn!”

  Shay hadn’t expected much better from him, but she thought he might at least thank her for saving his life.

  “No, Mr. Fletcher, everything is fine. But we aren’t allowed to take care of the horses anymore until the person who attacked you is caught.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Fletcher muttered. “I already got called by half a dozen parents today, including that foster parent of yours,” he glared accusingly at Shay. “Well, there’s nothing to discuss. I’ll sell the damned things now and I’ll buy some new horses when I get out of here. Or maybe I’ll just sell the whole farm and get out of the horse business. I’ve been in it too long anyway, and it doesn’t make enough money to count. Those real estate agents are always calling me to sell the place. I guess I could get some real good money out of it. Lakefront property like mine sells for millions, nowadays. I couldn’t have given that property away twenty years ago, now, hell, I can sell it and be a rich man.”

  “I thought you were already a rich man, Mr. Fletcher,” Larissa said tactlessly, “at least that’s what Jolene told us.”

  Mr. Fletcher stared at Larissa as if she was an alien, sprouting antennae from her head. After a moment he looked away from her and turned back to the television. “Jolene Halliwell said that? Well, she never did know what she was talking about. She always had a big mouth too. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to get richer,” he added grumpily.

  Fletcher continued to punch down on the remote channel changer, looking from the girls to the television then back at the girls as if he couldn’t make up his mind who to give his attention to.

  “No, Mr Fletcher, please don’t sell the horses,” Larissa said. “That’s why we’re here. We’re going to find out who did this to you and catch them and then we can go back to the horses. Just tell us who would want to hurt you and we’ll catch him and everything will go back to the way it was before. ”

  Shay sighed and rolled her eyes. The direction of the conversation was not what she had planned, and she knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere with Mr. Fletcher.

  Mr. Fletcher grunted. “Well, at least you’re honest and not pretending that you care about me,” he said. “I can appreciate that you want to do something for yourselves; that makes more sense than any damn lie about caring about what happens to me.”

  Grace opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Fletcher gestured with the remote for her to be quiet. “I can’t help you out. I don’t know why anyone would want to do something to me. Lots of people hate me. Hell, I hate lots of people, but no one’s ever tried to break my head before.”

  “You said your property is worth a lot and people want you to sell it,” Grace said. “Maybe someone is trying to make you get rid of it.”

  “Could be,” Mr. Fletcher nodded. “But I don’t think there are many real estate agents around Nelson who would take the time to attack me in my barn. They just keep at you like a swarm of damned mosquitoes till you give in and sell. I don’t think they beat people up, even for lakefront property.”

  “If no one wants to hurt you, then there has to be someone, somewhere, that you can think of who has something to gain from the horses, or from something in the barn,” Shay said.

  Mr. Fletcher looked at her thoughtfully, “You are a bright girl, aren’t you. You’re a natural with the horses and a damned hard worker to boot. Maybe you three aren’t so bad after all,” he grudgingly admitted.

  Grace smiled at him, feeling pleased that they had managed to connect with the cranky old man. “Oh, don’t start getting all smiley faced,” he said, scowling at Grace as if she had done something offensive. “I only said maybe you aren’t so bad. That still leaves a lot of territory that isn’t so hot. But, if I think of anything that can help, I’ll let you know. I told the police the same thing two hours ago. I’m not anxious to let some bastard smack my skull again.” He turned back to the television and they knew that nothing more would come of this interview.

  They said their good byes and left the hospital, deep in thought.

  “You know,” Grace broke the silence as they made their way along the snow covered sidewalks to the café where they were to meet Grace’s mom, “I think you and my dad are right,” she said. “Mr. Fletcher’s said it himself: he’s never gotten along with anyone, but no one’s ever tried to hurt him before. It’s not like he does really bad stuff to anyone, he’s just crabby and rude. And this doesn’t seem like it was planned or the criminals would have come equipped with a weapon and they probably wouldn’t have left him alive.”

  “Yes, I think I’m right too,” Shay said. “But it didn’t look like the police had searched the place very thoroughly. I didn’t see anything out of place or moved while we were cleaning the barn, and we had lots of time to notice anything different. If the police were going to search it properly, they would have done it by now.”

  Shay had lived through enough searches of her parent’s places to know what a thorough police search looked like. When she was little, she had learned early on not to get attached to any of her dolls because each time the police arrived at her parent’s door with a search warrant, her dolls were ripped apart by some officer looking for hidden drugs. Shay shook her head and brought her mind back to the present. The barn didn’t have that type of ‘searched’ look; everything was still in the usual place and nothing was overturned or moved.

  “They probably don’t know what to look for in a barn filled with horses and broken machinery. I bet they just took fingerprints and tried to figure out if anything was missing. I didn’t notice anything different than usual when we cleaned the place, did you guys?” Grace asked.

  “Nope,” Larissa answered. “But I wasn’t looking for anything, either. You said we weren’t detectives then so I was just thinking about shovelling manure and talking to you guys and what Jolene might make be making for lunch.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick about that,” Shay said. “We need to go back there and search properly. We didn’t even look in the hayloft. And there’s that whole front part of the barn that has all the old machinery in it. We never went near that.”

  “I bet the police didn’t look too closely in the stalls either,” Larissa snickered. “They hadn’t been mucked out in days. They wouldn’t want to get their shiny boots covered in horse manure, I bet.”

  “So, how do we get back to the barn?” Grace asked. She looked in the window of the restaurant and saw her mother sipping coffee at a table near the back. Mrs. Norton looked up smiling and waved them in. “M
y mother has the same opinion as Jolene; she won’t let me near the place anymore.”

  “We have some planning to do,” Shay answered, “that’s for sure.”

  “Yes, we have to do some planning, but first, we have something more important to do,” Grace said. “Mom wants to buy me some new pants today before we go home. You guys have to be on my side. She’ll want something that’s pink or yellow with a waist that goes up to my arm pits. You have to help me!”

  “What’s wrong with pink?” Larissa asked innocently.

  “Boy, are you young,” Shay said.

  Chapter Six

  Finding the Clues