DIRT
DIRT
By Laura Deane
Prologue
Frank “planted” the first body in 1978 in old Harlan’s field next door on the border to his family’s farm. The back pasture of Harlan’s ten-acre parcel couldn’t be seen from the road. Frank drove one of his father’s many mowers onto the spot. Then, to honor his dead mother who loved flowers, he planted a purple petunia behind one of the wheels.
He was twenty years old, and it was the first of many over the next forty years. Each had a farm implement, a tractor or a combine or a wagon, as a headstone, and beside it, the velvet blood red-purple trumpets of petunias. Harlan, in his seventies at that time, rarely ventured back there, and the grass grew tall and dense around the machinery graveyard. The rear of Harlan’s farm became a warren of rusted relics slowly decaying into the earth, while Harlan’s family wrangled for years over the will after his death at 103 years of age, but never visited. Until one year….
Chapter One
“Ava! You have to try this!” Andrew drew his wife to the Urban Gardener stall at the Saturday farmer’s spring market. “This is the best lasagna I’ve ever had, not that yours isn’t fantastic, but this… You have to try it!”
“It’s the purple asparagus,” the vendor said. “I grow it in my garden. It’s originally from the Albenga region, in northern Italy.”
“You hear that, Ava? It’s originally from Italy.”
“Mmmhmm,” Ava mumbled around her mouthful.
“I’ll give you the recipe when you buy two pounds of the purple asparagus.”
“Sold!” Andrew said enthusiastically.
“This is actually the last I have today. I usually sell out in the first hour.”
“I’m glad we came early then.”
The vendor deposited the asparagus in a reusable bag along with the recipe. She was dressed in black top and pants and a dark apron.
“I’ll have more at the market on Saturdays through May until the first of June.”
“If you ever have any extra you’d like to sell before Saturday, give me a call.” Andrew handed her his card.
“You’re an attorney?” the middle-aged woman said, looking at Andrew’s handsome thirty-something face.
“Yes, real estate.”
“I just bought a little farm and I’m having some trouble with my neighbor, something about adverse possession. Possession is 9/10s of the law. Something like that. Do you think you’d have some time to answer a few questions?”
“Sure! The first half hour consultation is free. Call the office number. Tell my assistant, Tina, we spoke, and have her put you on the calendar.
“Wonderful! I’ll bring some fresh asparagus.”
“Deal!”
Julie watched the couple, dressed in matching white shirts and blue pants, pass on to other vendors and overheard their rapturous remarks about how extraordinarily delicious the lasagna was.
She wished everyone, customers and family, were so appreciative. She began packing up the crates to head home.
Chapter Two
“I’m here to see Andrew Carbone.”
“Yes, Ms. Jaeger. Right this way. Would you care for something to drink?”
Just then an older bearded man drove his Italian Vespa off the elevator and into the lobby.
“Charles! Good to see you this morning,” Tina, the assistant, said without batting an eye. She whispered, “He does that every morning.”
“Nothing to drink,” Julie answered, smiling at the sight of a masculine man dressed in a dark navy suit riding a pink scooter into a law office. You didn’t see that every day.
“He and his brothers founded the firm,” Tina said, “so he kind of gets to do what he wants.”
Andrew rose from his seat at the conference table when Julie entered.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Julie said as she took the seat across from him.
“My pleasure,” Andrew said. “You have a smudge of dirt on your cheek,” and pointed at the right side of her face.
“Oh!” Julie said swiping at her cheek. “Most people won’t say anything, and then I go home and am so embarrassed when I look in the mirror. I wear black so the dirt from the garden doesn’t show, but it always does on my pale face. You’d think I’d be more tanned working out in the sun, but I always wear a hat.” She sounded nervous and blushed. She always made speeches when her emotions were heating up, especially in front of a handsome man. She needed to stop talking. “Thank you for letting me know,” she added lamely.
“No charge for that,” Andrew smiled.
“Here are the closing documents,” Julie said, getting down to business. “It’s a ten-acre parcel near the foothills west of Denver.”
Andrew perused them briefly. “Everything looks in order. What seems to be the problem?”
“My neighbor, Frank Winters, says he owns the land by adverse possession. He says he’s been using it for the past forty years, storing his equipment there.”
“Did the previous owner know he was doing that?”
“The heirs to the property were never there after their grandfather died, and so they weren’t aware that Frank was using the property. And they didn’t provide a property disclosure when they listed the property since they hadn’t lived in the house. The place was sold as-is. It’s been vacant for years. I intend to expand my growing operation, and I need to get those rusted machines off the land. I brought pictures.”
Andrew shuffled through the photos. “Has your neighbor given you any paperwork? Any proof of what he says?”
“No, but he’s threatening to sue me if I move the machinery. And when my friend Chris came by to help me start moving the rusted old relics, this Frank guy came at us with a shotgun.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No, we just left. He really frightened us. I didn’t know what my rights were, so that’s why I need some advice.”
“But you knew the equipment was there?”
“Yes, I inspected the property before I bought it, but Frank didn’t show up until after the closing.”
“Well, the adverse possession laws in Colorado were changed in 2008—”
“Andrew! Come quick!” A tall bearded man around Andrew’s age opened the door and interrupted.
“Michael! I’m with a client! Julie, this is my brother Michael.”
Michael briefly acknowledged her. “He’s at it again! Uncle Charles is having a melt down.”
Andrew rose, frowning. “I’m sorry for the interruption. I have to take care of this. I’ll be right back.”
From outside the conference room, a veritable ruckus with shouting and name calling was going on.
Julie waited a few moments and then went to investigate. In a small back office a naked older man with a top hat and cane was dancing on a desk and prancing as if riding a horse.
“He’s barricaded himself in,” Michael was saying. “He’s strong for an old guy. Moved the credenza and desk in front of the door.”
“How did he get here?” Andrew was saying. “I thought you had him locked in the house, which as I recall, I told you I didn’t think it was a very good idea.”
“I locked the doors,” Charles said. “He must have left before I did and rode the bus.”
“With his clothes on, I hope,” Andrew said. “We can’t have Uncle Clarence doing this every other day. Locking himself in an office, removing his clothes. And then doing this… this routine. We’ve got to come up with another plan!”
“And what do you propose we do?” Charles demanded. “Send him to a mental hospital? Put him on drugs? If we put him in a nursing home, he’ll die! I won’t have that done to my twin brother! He helped establish this firm, too, along with your father, God rest his soul, and he needs to be treated in a dignified way, however he acts!”
“Andrew,” Michael interrupted, “he’s peeing on the carpet.”
“Oh my God! How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Andrew asked in frustration. “Michael call building security, and get the muscles to open the door. Uncle Charles, please take Uncle Clarence home after they get the door open. Use my car. Make sure he’s locked in this time, and hopefully he won’t burn down the house. We’ll discuss this later. This can’t keep happening and disrupting our business. I have a client in the conference room right now… Oh, I mean here she is. Sorry, Julie.”
“No worries,” Julie said.
When they were seated again in the conference room, with Andrew totally distracted, Julie said, “When we were having issues with my father and his dementia, we found an adult day care in a woman’s home, and he was very happy there during the day when we were working, until he passed away. She seems exceptionally suited to handling shall we say… difficult behaviors. It solved a lot of problems. I can give you her number.”
“Excellent suggestion! I will look into it.”
“No charge for that,” Julie quipped.
Andrew smiled. “I’m sorry that took up most of our time, and I have another client coming in. How about another half hour free consultation next week, and in the meantime, I’ll look into this adverse possession matter.”
“That sounds great. And I’ll bring some more asparagus.”
“Deal.” And they shook to seal their agreement.
Chapter Three
“I told you that you shouldn’t buy that land.”
“I know, Uncle Emil,” Julie said wearily.
“Now you got an attorney involved! How much is that going to cost? Don’t expect me to pitch in for that.”
“Never did expect you to do that, Uncle Emil.”
“I told you, you should stay here and work my garden, selling at the farmer’s market.”
“I know, Uncle Emil.” Want me to continue to be your slave, more like it, and give you all the money since it’s your land, thought Julie but didn’t say. She’d discovered a long time ago it did no good to express her true thoughts to her father’s brother.
“Why you decided to spend your inheritance from your mother on that land is beyond me!”
Julie chose not to respond and placed the platter with grilled vegetables on the table. She’d also prepared mashed potatoes, yam casserole, and baked chicken.
“Where’s the gravy?” Emil said. “You know I like gravy with my mashed potatoes. And why so many vegetables? Can’t we have bread like everyone else? This chicken is dry. It needs the gravy.”
She closed her mind to his critical diatribe as she had many times during the past two years she’d lived with him while she saved money to buy the farm, and turned her thoughts to the land and whether or not she would be able to use it as she hoped. At least she had someone to talk to in Andrew. Hopefully he would have some suggestions the following week.
The following morning, Julie was sitting at her desk in the cubicle outside her boss’s office.
“Julie, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go. We’re having cutbacks, and well, you know how it is. Last in, first out.”
Julie looked at the letter her supervisor, David, handed her. Pink slip they called it, but they should have called it “dun”.
She couldn’t say she was surprised. She’d seen the writing on the wall for the past few weeks. She’d been hired three months before to work on a project that never seemed to be finished. Today the final i was dotted, the last t crossed, and so they were letting her go.
What was she going to do? She had the mortgage on the farm, though small, and although she had some savings, that wouldn’t last long, especially if she had to pay Andrew for his services. Every day she couldn’t use the land as planned was costing her money. She’d have to look for a job again. She sighed, cleaned out her desk, and went to her room at Uncle Emil’s to begin searching on Indeed, the online job site, as she had often over the past few years.
Chapter Four
“I have some good news and some bad news,” Andrew said the following week. “Which would you like to hear first.”
“I always like to hear the bad news first,” Julie said. “What is it?”
“Frank Winters has filed a lawsuit to bar you from using the land. He’s bringing a quiet title suit claiming the land is his. His attorney sent over the documents yesterday.” Andrew’s face was serious.
“Shit!” Julie couldn’t help the expletive. “What’s the good news?”
“I think you’re going to win.”
“Really? How?”
“First, a little history. Adverse possession allows a trespasser, often a neighbor, to gain legal title over the land of a property owner. It’s usually invoked when one owner has neglected or forgotten about a piece of land while another has been using it for so long that to make the trespasser leave would actually create hardship. Colorado adverse possession law states that the person squatting on the land, otherwise known as squatter’s rights, must be continuous for at least eighteen years.
“He said he’s been using it for forty years, so that doesn’t help,” Julie said.
“The claim must be hostile to the interest of the owner of record, that is without permission,” Andrew continued.
“I don’t think the owner and heirs said he couldn’t because they didn’t know, so that’s not helpful either.” Julie’s heart sank. How could he say she was going to win this?
“The other provisions are that the possession of the property must be open and notorious, actually physically present on the property, and exclusive, meaning one person for the entire statutory period.”
“I’m screwed,” Julie said in despair.
“The statutes state that the person bringing the Adverse Possession suit must provide proof that he has lived on the property or that he owns what is being stored on the land. To prevail on a claim, the claimant must prove each element of adverse possession. I sent a letter to his attorney requesting he provide such documentation or witnesses and Mr. Winters has not been able to produce either. He is not able to show receipts showing the equipment is his. And he doesn’t have anyone who can testify on his behalf. So, without proof, the equipment could be owned by the previous owners. Therefore, he has no right to the land. I’ve sent a letter to that effect to his attorney. I’m waiting to hear back, but I think you’ll soon be able to use that land.”
“That is the Best news!” Julie said with relief.
“I don’t recommend you go onto the land due to the obvious contentiousness of Mr. Winters. Once you have permission from the court to use the property, I would recommend the sheriff go with you and your friend to move the equipment, considering Mr. Winters’ response the last time you tried.”
“Thank you for that, Andrew! I can’t thank you enough!”
“Well, I can’t thank you enough, Julie. The woman you recommended is doing a great job taking care of Uncle Clarence, and the office is finally back to running without incidents like the one you witnessed last week. No more naked uncles in the office.”
“I’m glad to hear that! For more reason than one! Now if you can help me find a job, I would nominate you for sainthood!” Julie joked.
“What kind of job are you looking for?” Andrew’s question surprised her.
“Anything. I’m a good typist, 70 words per minute, and I know all the Microsoft Office software. Word, Excel, Publisher. I’m good at editing, too.”
“Just a minute,” Andrew said and excused himself.
Five minutes passed and Julie wondered if she should go looking for him, when he appeared with his brother.
“Julie, you remember my brother, Michael.”
Julie nodded and attempted to shake his hand, but Michael stood with his arms tightly crossed defensively, a scowl on his face.
“Michael has written a memoir, and he is having difficulty finding someone to type it up and edit it. We’re willing to pay, if you’d be interested in the job.”
Julie looked from Andrew to his brother. Michael was fuming, and Julie was quite certain he didn’t want her to perform the task.
“The memoir has been hard for Michael to write,” Andrew said and Michael looked down, avoiding her eyes. “It would be a favor to me and my brother if you did this, and I’d even waive my legal fees for the adverse possession suit if you agreed.”
What in the world was the memoir about that they were both acting so oddly? Whatever it was, Julie decided she was willing to complete the job if it meant Andrew wouldn’t be charging for working on her case.
“Don’t you need some references, a resume?” Julie asked.
“I’m a pretty good judge of character,” Andrew responded. “I have to be able to size people up very quickly in the court room, and I have a good feeling about you.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” Julie said. “Okay. Maybe we can give each other a couple of days to try things out.”
Andrew looked relieved.
“So now I guess you’ve both got it all figured out!” Michael blurted angrily. “The Great Carbones! It was a huge mistake to think I could come back here!” Michael stormed and stomped out of the room.
“It’s a memoir about his time in Afghanistan, in the war,” Andrew explained, “and he doesn’t want to be reminded of it. I kind of made him write it, to help him recover when he wouldn’t see a therapist, and he’s angry about the whole thing. But, I think it will be of benefit to him. If Michael gives you any grief, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
Julie had second thoughts after this speech, but she needed a) the money, and b) the legal fees waived. She shook Andrew’s hand, and promised to be there the following morning.
Chapter Five
“Michael, how much of this do you want me to edit?” Julie asked after working on the handwritten hard-to-read manuscript for an hour and going in search of its author.
“I don’t give a damn what you do with it!”
“I wrote a book and self-published it,” Julie said. “If I may, I’d like to share something.”
“If you feel you have to,” Michael said, gritting his teeth and turning away. “It wasn’t my idea for you to work on it. It’s not like I have any say in it.”
“I wrote a novel and hired an editor,” Julie said, “and she shredded my story and characters, the friends I placed in my tale, and seriously altered my voice. As a result, I thought, those who can’t write become teachers, those who can’t teach become critics, and those who can’t critique become editors. I prefer you not think of me in any of those terms. You have something to say, Michael, and as painful as it was for you to go through, I am finding value in your words. I would be honored if you let me work on this. And I will change as much as or as little as you direct. I do not wish in any way to alter your voice. It is beautiful in its vulnerability.”
Michael turned around. There was a shocked expression on his face, and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. He clamped his lips together, and finally nodded.
“Come see me when you’re ready,” Julie said, understanding his need for space. “I’m honored to work on your memoir,” she repeated and left him.
A few days later Julie was going back to her small work space with a cup of coffee and passed Andrew’s office. She stopped outside his door to say hello.
“Can you believe this guy?” Andrew was saying to his Uncle Charles seated in a chair in front of Andrew’s desk. “He’s fighting us just to be fighting. This is the third lawsuit he’s filed against us.”
Julie turned away, not wishing to interrupt.
“Julie!” Andrew called after her. “How goes the project?”
“Slowly.”
“Michael giving you any grief?”
“We’re working through it, I think.”
“Andrew, Charles, Mr. Adams is in the conference room,” Tina stopped beside Julie, acknowledged her, and quickly went on her way.
Andrew and Charles stood up and looked through the glass walls. Contrary to Tina’s announcement, no one was where she indicated. They walked out into the hall, searching for Mr. Adams.
In Charles’ office, a nattily dressed older man was staring at a painting on the wall beside Charles’ desk. He was smiling a sly smile, until he realized he was being watched. He glared at the two men, and then smiled admiringly at Julie. She looked up at Andrew, raised an eyebrow, and moved on.
Julie went back to her desk to continue to decipher Michael’s scrawling penmanship.
Chapter Six
“I’ll pay you five hundred dollars to go out with him.”
“Next you’ll be calling me a whore, Andrew,” Julie said. “Should I call you my pimp?”
“Actually, we call it legal investigation.”
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days. Mr. Adams is not the kind of man I would go out with for any reason.”
“Julie, this is the best cannellini I have ever had,” Charles said taking another bite of the rolled pasta with spinach and mozzarella under a tomato sauce she’d brought in to thank the Carbone’s for their assistance on her case.
“That’s saying a lot,” Andrew said, “considering the centuries our family has made that dish.”
“I think there’s a secret Italian stashed somewhere in my ancestors,” Julie smiled.
“Getting back to Adams,” Andrew said, intent on securing what he needed. “He said he wanted to take you out for dinner in our meeting yesterday, and we need to know why he won’t drop the lawsuit against us and against our clients over a piece of land with a historic building on it—we need to find out what he really wants. I’ll even throw in a dress. My wife, Ava, can help pick it out.”
Julie was annoyed and displeased. She’d grown to like Andrew, and it felt like he was throwing her under the bus for his own agenda.
“It’s just one dinner,” Andrew cajoled. “Five hundred dollars in your pocket. That will buy a lot of farm equipment. And you’ll have a new dress to boot.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“This guy won’t leave us alone. He’s sued us several times, and is threatening more, and I think there’s more going on than we know. I need to find out what he’s up to.”
“And you think I can find that out? When does he want to meet?”
“Tomorrow evening at Del Frisco’s Steak House. Tina will give you the directions and time. Ava’s available this afternoon to go shopping.”
“You have this all planned out, don’t you,” she said accusingly.
“That’s part of an attorney’s job. See all the problems and possibilities and come up with solutions. That’s what I’m doing on your case.”
He had to bring up he was working on her case for free, Julie thought. Guilt on top of bribery. Typical lawyer tactics.
Ava met Julie at the Park Meadows Mall. She had a few stores in mind. Ann Taylor and Soft Surroudings. They found the perfect outfit pieces at Macy’s, black cotton knit top and cardigan with rhinestone flowers, black leggings and a cutaway lace skirt—short in front, long in back. Ava helped her choose black Italian Shoemaker sandals, dangling earrings and a choker necklace as well, and paid for the purchases with the business credit card. Julie found Ava’s company charming and delightful, making up for her recent displeasure with Andrew.
“We have to impress Mr. Adams,” Ava was saying over a soda at the food court. “He’s a billionaire, and who knows. He might just like to take you home.”
“The question will be, will I want to take him home. Money isn’t everything.”
“No, but it can help with a lot of things. Either way you’ll be beautiful. A perfect outfit can feel like a suit of armor.”
“Thank you, Ava. I have to say I enjoyed our shopping excursion. I usually hate shopping. I just run in to get what I need and get out as quickly as possible.”
“That’s too bad. My best memories are of shopping with my mother. I still love shopping with her when she visits.”
“My mother never took me shopping. She’d make me go in and buy groceries while she sat in the car. And if she went shopping for clothes, she’d go by herself and pick out what she wanted me to wear. I didn’t get a choice.
“That would have made me feel really, really sad.”
“To be honest, now that she’s died, I can say it. Most of the time she made me feel like dirt. My uncle does the same thing. And most of my employers make me feel that way, too. I guess that’s why I like your husband so much. He treats me with respect. At least until he made me go out with this Adams character.”
“He has his moments,” Ava said, eyeing her carefully. Julie felt a fissure of jealousy from her companion.
“I didn’t mean I’m interested in him…” Julie said quickly, blushing. “I just meant…”
“I know,” Ava said, smiling. “He’s a good guy. It’s just that… there are a lot of women out there who think so, too. Anyway, here’s to many more shopping trips! And finding out what Mr. Adams is up to.” Ava saluted her with the plastic cup.
“I’ll drink to that!” Julie touched her cup to Ava’s and felt a small slice of unhappiness slip away.
The hostess showed Julie to a table in the far corner of the restaurant. Mr. Adams stood when she approached. He wore a navy blazer over khaki pants, apricot ascot, and matching pocket scarf. His gray hair and beard were perfectly groomed. Julie’s brain skipped to Carly Simon’s song, “You’re So Vain, your scarf it was apricot.”
“Miss Jaeger, so nice of you to come.”
“Thank you, Mr. Adams, for the invitation.”
“Order whatever you like,” he said grandly after the waiter presented their menus. “I’m buying.”
“I’ll have a burger and salad,” Julie said.
“Oh, come on, Miss Jaeger. This is Del Frisco’s! You have to order a steak!”
“I’ll have a burger and salad,” she said to the waiter. “It’s easier for my system to digest.”
“The lady will have a Porterhouse steak, and I’ll have the same,” George Adams said to the waiter. “No potato. No salad. And a decanter and two glasses of the house Bordeaux.”
“I’d like a potato and salad with mine,” Julie said, directing her instructions at the wait person. “Blue cheese dressing. No tomatoes. The works on the potato.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyeing George’s frown to see what his response would be before leaving their table. He obviously was assessing his tip probability.
“So, what do you do, Miss Jaeger?” George said after reluctantly acquiescing to her order change. He smiled widely, revealing yellow horse-size teeth. “Besides working for those flop boys at Carbones.”
“Please call me Julie. I raise vegetables and work as an assistant—"
“How do you know the Carbone’s?” He interrupted before she finished her sentence.
“Andrew Carbone is helping me with a lawsuit brought by a neighbor who says he owns my land. Possession is 9/10s of the law, or so he says.”
“Well, I agree with him. Possession is 9/10s of life. If it’s rare, one-of-a-kind, valuable, I want to own it.”
“Do you include people in your possessions?” she couldn’t help saying. “Because I wonder if you think people are very valuable.”
“Of course, I own people. Not because they’re valuable, but because they’re useful. Take you, for example. I’d place you in my livin’ room and never let you go. Room candy.” He appraised her up and down, resting his eyes on her breasts with avarice.
“I see,” Julie said, trying to hold onto her temper. She forced herself to smile.
The waiter arrived with the wine and went through the whole wine procedure, as George Adams proudly showed off his wine swirling and spitting prowess. The waiter poured the red fluid into two glasses and placed one before each of them.
“Drink!” George commanded, and took a gulp of wine.
Julie took a small sip. “I have a heart condition that doesn’t allow me to drink very much.”
“Oh, pish posh. Drink!”
The waiter appeared with her salad.
“Rabbit food!” George Adams said disgustedly. “Drink your wine!” he commanded irritably.
“Yes, rabbits do like lettuce,” Julie said. “They love to eat up my garden.”
“Gettin’ my hands dirty,” he lifted the side of his lip in disdain. “Not my thing.”
“I don’t imagine it is,” Julie said. I’m sure you hire other people to do your dirty work, Julie thought. “What is your thing? Besides possessing things and people?”
“That lawyer fella o’ yours put you up to askin’ that?” Mr. Adams sneered.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’m just curious. Always have been.”
The waiter brought their enormous platters of meat and placed the baked potato beside Julie’s. He reached for the untouched salad plate.
“I’ll keep that, thank you,” Julie said, and he looked at her and then George uncomfortably. This woman is being difficult, his expression said. “I’ll eat it with my potato,” she said. As if it’s any business of yours, she thought.
“Eat! Eat up!” George said, tearing a piece of meat with his enormous horse teeth, and chewing with his mouth open, making slurping sounds. “Don’t like a woman who nibbles. And nothing better than American beef.”
Probably raised in Argentina, Julie thought churlishly, daintily taking bites of her salad and potato. His table manners were making her queasy. Remember why you’re here, what Andrew asked of you, she commanded herself.
“Drink your wine!” George commanded.
Probably put date rape drug in it, she thought. Or truth serum. “So, if you could have anything you wanted,” Julie said, trying not to look disgusted at his eating habits, “what would it be?”
“Right now I have my eye on a piece o’ ground your pal Carbone is gettin’ in the way of. Eat your meat!”
He invited me to dinner to get information about Andrew, she realized with surprise. Must think I’m a weak woman who will flap her gums. Likes to boss women around too. Doesn’t listen. A lot like Uncle Emil, but richer. Why do men have to be that way?
“Why is this piece of land so important?”
“No! No! No!” He shook his finger at her. “I know you came here to get information for Carbone. How much did he pay you? That kind of makes you a whore, Yes?”
Julie put her fork down, wiped her lips with the white linen napkin, and threw her head back and laughed. “That’s just what I told him when he offered to pay me five hundred dollars.”
Her response surprised him. “I can pay you more than that. Work for me. Be a double spy.”
Julie laughed again. “I wouldn’t work for you, Mr. Adams, if you were the last employer on earth.”
His shallow façade of a jovial disposition disappeared. The true nature of Mr. Adams appeared, the angry snake, ready to strike and kill.
“I will get that piece of ground!” he hissed.
“Or?”
“I will destroy the Carbone firm. You with it.”
“I’m not involved with the Carbone Law Firm, Mr. Adams. I am a neutral party.”
“Except you’re here to get information. That makes you a party to the deal.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Adams.”
“You’re a stupid wench, Miss Jaeger. If you had any sense at all you wouldn’t be here.”
“Truer words were never spoken, Mr. Adams.”
He was becoming irritated at her calm demeanor and the fact he couldn’t get a rise out of her or push her around. His obvious weapons of choice were intimidation and manipulation.
“Mr. Adams, I’ve learned a lot working in my garden. A person who works in the dirt learns patience. It takes time for the seeds to sprout and grow. You have to water every day, tend the plants, cover them when needed. Sometimes the weather turns against you and you lose a crop.”
“This has nothing to do with—"
“Let me finish!” she said loudly enough that people near their table turned to look. Adams saw their reaction and frowned, but allowed her to continue.
“As I was saying,” she said in a calmer voice, “when you work in the dirt, you’re grateful for what comes to harvest and you enjoy sharing with others your abundance. Because that’s what nature teaches you. That there are abundant gifts available to those who look for them. So, I feel sorry for you, because you will never understand any of that with your need to own and possess. The joy comes in the journey and in the sharing, not in the keeping. So, you can try to harm the Carbone’s but they are good people and you’re going to reap a bad harvest for doing so.”
George Adams began to laugh, a loud mulish hee-haw. More diners glanced in their direction in annoyance and then anger.
“What a great load of horse crap! You’re an idealist and the world never honors idealists. It destroys them.”
“That’s probably true. Good people are destroyed by people like you every day.”
“You want to know why I want that piece of ground? So I can tear down that old ugly monstrosity of a building and put up a parking garage. Make money.”
Joni Mitchell’s song “They Pave Paradise to Put up a Parking Lot” immediately came to mind. Her favorite women singer/warriors were on her mind this evening.
“That old ugly monstrosity of a building, as you call it, is a historic landmark,” Julie said. “That’s why the Carbone’s are helping the owners fight to save it.”
“I don’t give a damn about that.”
“I thought you wanted one-of-a-kind things to possess. That’s what that building is. A one-of-a-kind irreplaceable representation of the architect Henry Hudson Holly, the last of the buildings designed by him in Denver.
“You just don’t get it. That building is going to cost more and more money to keep it up. True one-of-a-kind things increase in value. They don’t decrease.”
“Give me an example.”
“A rare painting, for example.” His eyes became hooded.
Julie’s mind flashed to Adams standing in front of the painting in Charles’ office the day before. “Like the painting in Charles Carbone’s office? The one you were looking at yesterday.” A light bulb went off. “That’s what you’ve wanted all along. That painting.”
He glued an impassive look upon his face. His narrowed eyes gave him away.
“So, you get the painting by destroying their business, is that it? Keep suing them until they’re bankrupt and you pick up the pieces including the artwork.”
There was a slight flair to his nostrils, and she knew it was the truth.
“Thank you for the dinner, Mr. Adams. I’ll say my good byes.”
She stood to leave.
“Aren’t you going to finish?” he asked in surprise.
“I’ve had my fill!” Her stature was tall and erect as she strode out of the restaurant, away from George Adams and his bad intentions.
Chapter Seven
“He wants the painting.” Julie stood beside Andrew in front of the centuries-old masterpiece, admiring the brush strokes, the depth, the light and shadow. The portrait of an Italian man with weathered features and strong nose bore an amazing resemblance to Charles Carbone.
“That’s what this is all about?”
“That’s what this is all about. He’s going to bankrupt you and then take it.”
“He said that?”
“He confirmed it by his reaction when I guessed his plan. He thinks of himself as a great negotiator, and couldn’t dream that a stupid women would figure out what he was up to. He’s a misogynist.”
Charles stood up from behind his desk. “Adams had me do some work on a real estate deal a few years back and he was most interested in the painting when he came into the office to sign some papers. He asked all kinds of questions as I recall. I told him the painting was brought over from Italy by my great-great grandfather, been in our family since it was painted by Botticelli in the fifteenth century. There’s only one like it in the world. Not even any prints. Priceless and irreplaceable. He must have coveted it ever since.”
“Well, he can’t have it,” Michael said coming to stand beside Andrew and Julie. “It was one of the things I thought about that brought me back from the war when all my buddies were getting blown to smithereens.”
Andrew eyed his brother curiously. “You never told me that.”
“I used to stare at it when Dad brought us to the office as kids. It gave our family roots, centuries of existence. If something like this could survive hundreds of years, I could survive a few more. Julie how much do you have left editing the manuscript?”
“A few chapters.”
“Edit what you like. Make it sound good.” Michael turned to leave.
“Where you going?” Andrew asked.
“I’m going to see a publisher friend of mine,” Michael said. “He’s already offered me a deal for the book and I’m going to get him to make me a higher offer. We’re going to use the money to find dirt on that no-good son-of-a-bitch Adams. And we’re keeping the Botticelli!”
Michael strode purposefully through the lobby and out the exit to the stairs.
“Well, I’ll be!” Andrew said. “Guess he’s finally coming back to life!”
“That may be the only good thing Adams is partially responsible for,” Julie said and turned to study the beautiful painting.
“Your new neighbor, Frank Winters, came by today,” Uncle Emil told her that evening.
“What? What did he want?”
“Just to meet the family of his new neighbor. Said he wanted to set things right—no hard feelings.”
“How did he know where we lived? You didn’t invite him in, did you?”
“Course I did! Tried to fix things for you.”
“I told you I didn’t have a good feeling about him, that I didn’t trust him. Where was he?” Julie searched the room to see if anything seemed amiss. “Did he go anywhere besides the living room?”
“What are you gettin’ all worked up about? He seemed a nice enough man. He did use the bathroom upstairs.”
“He went upstairs?” Julie’s heart began pounding. There was something wrong with Frank Winters, and alarm bells were signaling he’d left something unpleasant for her to find, as a warning. “I wish you hadn’t invited him in.”
“I was tryin’ to smooth things over, get him to drop the lawsuit, but as usual you don’t appreciate what I’m tryin’ to do for you.”
Julie inspected her bedroom upstairs. Nothing seemed amiss but her instincts said Mr. Winters coming to her home wasn’t a social visit. He had some nefarious purpose in mind. There was a different energy about the place and she no longer felt safe.
She threw some clothes in a suitcase.
“What you doin’?” Uncle Emil said, as she came downstairs with the suitcase.
“I’m going to stay with some friends for a few days.”
“Who’s goin’ to cook my dinner?”
“There are some leftovers in the fridge. You never liked my cooking that much anyway.”
“I never said that!” Emil followed her outside. “I never said that!” he yelled after her, panic now in his voice that his slave was leaving.
Julie went back upstairs to retrieve one of the boxes she had packed in preparation for moving to the farm. She heard an unsettling rattle but didn’t think too much about it. She had a few of her baby items in the bottom of one of the boxes, including some rattles. As she stepped on the last porch step, she tripped. The box went flying and a cotton sack flew out. A rattlesnake slithered out and then coiled, shaking its tail angrily at her. Fortunately, she was far enough away as it lunged to strike. She leapt three quick stumble steps back onto the porch.
“I told you he was up to no good,” she yelled at her uncle. Frank Winters had left a mean present. If she’d begun unpacking the box or put it in the car, the outcome could have been very different.
The snake slithered into the neighbor’s yard. She called 911 and told them a rattlesnake was loose and gave the address. When the officers arrived, she told them Frank Winters had visited and she believed he’d left it to harm her. They called animal control and the rattlesnake was carefully retrieved and would be relocated.
“Without proof,” one of the officers said, “we can’t be sure Winters was the one who put it in the box. It might have gotten in by a lot of other means. With your uncle’s house backing to the Valley Canal, we’ve had a lot of reports of rattlesnakes in garages and yards.”
“It was in a cotton sack in a box. He must have touched both. Can’t you take fingerprints or something?”
“There still wouldn’t be any proof of criminal intent.”
“He has a lawsuit against me and the land I bought next to his. Wouldn’t that be motive?”
“We’ll run it by the district attorney and see what she says. If we have any further questions, we’ll let you know.”
Julie knew what that meant. They weren’t going to do squat.
“I still don’t think you should go!” Uncle Emil called to her from the porch as she headed to her car.
“Bye, Uncle Emil. I’ll call and give you an update.”
Julie closed the car door and quickly drove away.
Chapter Eight
“Here’s your check,” Andrew said the following morning. “We added a bonus for getting the book completed so quickly. Michael has his first advance in the bank.”
“Thank you, Andrew.” Julie took the piece of paper and was pleased with the amount. This would help greatly with her plan.
“Did you sleep here last night?” Andrew asked, eyeing her ruffled appearance and the sleeping bag hidden under the desk.
Julie blushed and told him what happened the day before at her uncle’s home.
“Sorry, Andrew. I didn’t know what else to do. I was afraid Winters might be watching Uncle Emil’s house and follow me to a motel. This seemed like the safest place to be.”
“Well, I’m glad this time you called the police. They’ll have it on record that Winters was at the property and an incident happened. What are you going to do now? Probably not a great idea to sleep here every night.”
“I’ll stay with some friends,” she said vaguely. “Where are we with the lawsuit?”
“Winters has refused to drop the quiet title suit. We’re on the court docket in September.”
“I have to wait until September to know if I get to keep my land? And he gets to come to my house as he pleases leaving poisonous snakes to kill me? Something has to change, Andrew.”
“I know, Julie. You’ll have to be patient. Let me know if you need anything. By the way, we’d like you to do some additional work if you’re interested. Michael could use some help digging up dirt on Adams, and Uncle Charles and I have some items that need to be typed and edited. We’ll pay you well, even pay for some schooling if you’d like.”
“Thank you! I’ll need a couple of days to take care of some things, but I could start next Monday.”
“Perfect. See you back here then.”
Julie stopped at Walmart and picked up the items on her list. Camping supplies, tent, lantern, flashlight, binoculars, cleaning supplies, broom, trash bags, ice chest and a bag of ice, cooked chicken, potato and regular salads, cubed cheese, finger foods, snacks, dog food, leash and toys, plus plastic plates, cups, and utensils, bottled water, juice, and some household tools including a large chopping knife.
She stopped at the Denver Dumb Friends League. She wished she could keep each friendly face as she walked past the cages, but finally stopped in front a black and white dog who grinned at her with his tongue hanging out, bright brown eyes meeting hers. “Chaffee” the name tag read.
“What do you think, Chaffee? You want to go home with me?”
The dog whined and put his paw up on the chain link gate. One yip for “Yes!”
“He’s a mix of Australian shepherd and Great Pyrenees,” the vet said as he opened the gate and led the dog out on a leash. “He’s about two years old, very intelligent.”
Chaffee sat on his haunches beside Julie’s knee as if he’d always done so, already attached, ears up, listening attentively to the vet’s voice.
“He’s about seventy pounds, won’t get much bigger, small for a Great Pyrenees. His mother was probably a smaller Australian shepherd, as it would have been difficult for a shepherd to mount a Pyrenees. He’ll need a lot of exercise.”
“I have a ten-acre parcel and I’m going to be bringing on some livestock, a few sheep and goats so I wanted a dog to protect them.”
“He’ll be perfect for that. He’s bred from working dogs: the shepherd is intelligent and easy to train; the Pyrenees more protective and stubborn, bred to stay outside with the herd. From the looks of Chaffee he got a good mix of the shepherd’s intelligence and the Pyrenees’ protective instincts.”
“Just what I need!”
“He’s neutered, healthy, in beautiful condition. He came in a few days ago from a family who was moving out of state. These breeds have a tendency toward elbow or hip dysplasia, so the sooner you can get him on fish oil, glucosamine and chondroitin supplements the better.”
Julie placed her hand on Chaffee’s head and he leaned into her touch.
“Looks like you two are going home together!” the vet said. “Let’s get the paperwork completed.”
“Thank you so much!” Julie said, choking on the words. This was Part One of her dream coming true.
Chapter Nine
Chaffee sat beside her in the passenger seat, looking out the front window and at her from time to time, as if asking “What’s next? What’s going on?”
“We’ll be home soon, Chaffee,” Julie said. “We have to make sure he’s gone first.”
The road that led past Frank Winters’ farm and hers traveled up a small rise before curving right toward other small homesteads. She sat in a turnout at the top of the hill, watching Frank Winters’ house and garage through binoculars. She hoped the trees hid her from his view. She was able to watch his comings and goings from the taller vantage point. He entered the house, the barn, the garage, the shed. After two hours, she despaired he would ever leave when he started up his old rusty pickup and barreled down the driveway. She backed up, did a U-turn and pulled into a neighbor’s driveway before Frank zoomed past.
She turned the vehicle around after she was sure he was well down the road and traveled past Frank’s place and on to her farm. The shabby buildings hidden in the tall untamed grass seemed to welcome her.
The driveway was barely visible and she had to turn around twice before she found it, two dirt tracks hidden in weeds. The plants made a scratching noise on the bottom of her fully loaded car. She had planned on buying a truck before losing her job and being sidetracked by Frank’s lawsuit. She’d make do with her older model Nissan Sentra sedan until she could trade it in for the four-door Dodge Dakota truck she wanted.
She parked beside the wood sided house. Windows were covered with particle board. The front porch sagged and many of the roof shingles were missing.
“Well, Chaffee, what do you think of our new home?”
The dog woofed and scratched once on the door. She attached his leash and let him follow her out the driver’s side.
Chaffee’s black nose quivered as he sniffed the air. He stood alert and interested. Julie was pleased that he wasn’t lunging at the end of the leash. She had been afraid he might run toward Frank’s and give her away, but he was poised and waiting for her cue.
“Let’s take a look at the barn,” she said.
She pulled open the barn door, squeaking in protest on rusted hinges. The other door squealed open as well. She walked in, inspecting the concrete floor, and looking up at the holes in the roof. The barn was empty save for a few rakes and hoes at the back of the building, and some musty bales of hay in the second-floor hayloft.
“We’re going to stay in here tonight, Chaffee. It won’t be the most comfortable, but that way Frank won’t see us. Since I don’t know when he’s coming back, let’s get the car in first.”
Chaffee looked up at her as if in approval. He jumped back into the car and she pulled the silver auto into the barn and closed the doors. There was enough summer light coming through the roof and missing exterior boards that she could see without a lantern or flashlight.
“I should have brought a table,” she said, “but I didn’t have room. We’ll get one out here soon.”
She swept out a corner, sneezing at the spiraling dust, then pulled everything out of the car and placed it in organized piles on two blankets.
“Before we do anything else, Chaffee, there’s something I want to check out. Let’s go upstairs.”
Chaffee followed her up the steps of the narrow staircase. She opened the small square door to the outside overlooking the yard and house.
Through the binoculars she surveyed her domain. How she loved the sound of that. Her domain. She inspected every inch, thinking about the plan she’d drawn up before purchasing the property. She also gazed toward the back boundary of the acreage, hoping to see the rusted machinery.
The parcel was narrow, two acres wide, five acres deep. The back two acres sloped down to a creek and a copse of cottonwood and aspen trees behind her property. The back far corner was too far away and below another rise in the land. When she felt safer, she would see what was visible from the house’s upper-story windows that were closer to that side of the acreage.
“Let’s get ready for the night before the sun goes down. I’d rather not have a lantern on in case Frank should see it.” She closed the hayloft door.
She set up the tent next to the car, placed the sleeping pad and bag plus more blankets inside, poured out water and food for Chaffee, ate a few bites of chicken and salad, and washed her face and hands with bottled water. She took out a brush and began grooming Chaffee’s thick coat, talking to him quietly, telling him all her hopes and dreams.
He leaned into her and breathed a deep sigh. They both knew they were home.
Chapter Ten
“Julie, I know you said you could start on Monday,” Andrew called on her cell phone the next morning, “but Michael found something about Adams and he could use some help. Would you be able to come in today?”
That would interfere with her plan, but she could wait a day or two to put the steps into action. And she needed to buy additional supplies in town she hadn’t thought of until she was actually at the property.
“I just got a dog. I don’t want to leave him all day by himself.”
“Is he housebroken?”
“More than Uncle Clarence.”
Andrew laughed. “In that case, bring him in!”
“It’ll take me a couple of hours to get there.” Julie said. She’d have to go to Uncle Emil’s, as much as she didn’t want to. After sleeping in a tent in a barn, though, a shower was required.
“Whenever you get here will be fine.” Andrew signed off.
“Chaffee, you’re going to meet my Uncle Emil. You might not like him very much, but you’ll need to be polite.”
Chaffee sat agreeably waiting for her next instructions.
“You got a dog!” Uncle Emil was angry. “You know I don’t allow animals in the house.”
“We’ll only be here a half hour or so,” Julie said. She kept a tight leash on Chaffee. His protective instincts were creating a growl deep in his chest followed by loud raucous barking.
“And a mean one at that!” Uncle Emil bellowed.
“Come, Chaffee,” she commanded, pulling him up the stairs while he kept himself as a protective shield between her and Uncle Emil.
When she was in her old room and undressing, she kept up a steady chatter with her new companion. He sniffed around the room, and she was glad he was checking things out in case Frank left something else, and at the same time she was afraid the dog would be hurt by another snake or trap.
Chaffee found nothing and laid down on the rug beside her bed and dozed.
She quickly finished showering and dressed, leaving Uncle Emil complaining to her back as she left again.
“What a beautiful dog!”
The Carbone’s admired Chaffee but didn’t overwhelm him. Julie appreciated their restraint. Since the two were still getting acquainted she wasn’t sure how he would react. She needn’t have worried. Chaffee was a perfect gentleman.
“Michael, what did you find?” Michael was in Julie’s work space and Chaffee laid down at her feet.
“Adams was arrested for sexual assault against a college student working for him about ten years ago. The charges were dropped because the young woman didn’t testify. I think he paid her off, or paid someone off. If we can talk to her, maybe there’s something we can use. I don’t think she’ll open up to me, a guy, but she might to you, Julie. You want to give it a try?”
“Where is she? How do we approach her?”
“She owns a worm compost business in Brighton. I thought we could use the pretense you’re buying worms and compost for your new place.”
“Since that’s on my list of things to do, that would be the truth and just might work.”
“Always best to put as much of the truth into investigations as possible. Or so one of our last legal investigators, Brenda, told me. I helped her some before I went to Afghanistan.”
It wasn’t lost on Julie that it had become easier for Michael to speak the word Afghanistan.
“How do we bring up Adams?”
“Don’t know. We’ll think of something. We can take my truck.”
Julie and Chaffee piled into Michael’s navy-blue Ford F-150, Chaffee in the back seat, grinning amiably. He was obviously enjoying all these new experiences.
“We’ll take two bins of worms and compost,” Julie told Lindsay Garrison, the worm-compost-farm owner. They’d stopped and picked up two large plastic tubs. “I’m rejuvenating the dirt on a ten-acre parcel. I’ll probably need more, but this is a start.”
Lindsay nodded and loaded the rich loamy soil and mulch plus a bunch of red worms. “Dirt is the most important basics for a farm,” Lindsay said, “and worm poo is the best way to improve it.”
“Speaking of dirt,” Michael said, “on the way over here, we were talking about the worst dates we’ve ever been on. I think the worst date I went on was with a girl named Avery. She didn’t bathe very often and her hobby was collecting snakes.”
Julie rolled her eyes at him behind Lindsay’s back, thinking, That was the lamest opening I’ve ever heard, but she was game to try. “I think my worst date was last week with George Adams, owner of some real estate development company. What an arrogant ass. Bossing me around. Ordering for me without listening. I think he tried to put date rape in my wine.”
“Did you say George Adams?” Lindsay stopped shoveling and her complexion paled.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“No. Never met the man.” Her expression and gritted teeth belied her words.
“Sorry if I said something to upset you,” Julie said.
Lindsay shoveled more worms and compost into the bin.
“He wanted me to work for him,” Julie continued, “and I said I wouldn’t work for him if he was the last employer on earth.”
“That was very smart,” Lindsay said cryptically.
“Why? Do you know someone who worked for him?”
“I worked for him,” Lindsay spit out the words. “The man raped me and got away with it.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Julie said. “I can believe that of him. He thinks he can get away with anything.”
“I think he paid off the prosecutor because the case was dropped for ‘lack of evidence’. They did a rape kit and it showed he was the one, but he said it was consensual and they believed him--or believed his money.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Julie said sympathetically.
“I have help from a support group—the other woman who worked for him and he assaulted.”
“There are others?” Julie controlled her desire to look at Michael.
“Yes, we found each other online and help each other out.”
“Have you ever thought about suing him as a group?” Michael spoke up.
“We don’t want to expend the energy. We just want to move on with our lives. Besides, he’s wealthy and none of us can afford to hire a lawyer.”
“You know, my brother is an attorney. Maybe it would be worth looking into. The statute of limitations was recently extended to twenty years, after the Bill Cosby lawsuit when he assaulted all those women. Maybe it’s time for Adams to get his just due. He should pay for what he’s done by compensating you and the other victims. You wouldn’t pay unless the case was won.”
“I don’t know,” Lindsay said, squinting newly sprouted distrust of Michael. “Nothing he can pay will ever make up for what he did to us.”
“If you and your support group just want a free consultation with Andrew, here’s his card. Maybe you can keep him from doing this to someone else. You can think about it.”
Lindsay compressed her lips, holding back any further comment.
“Thank you for the compost and worms,” Julie said.
“Worms don’t rear back and bite you,” Lindsay said tightly. “That’s why I started this business. Unless someone shows up nosing into other people’s business like some ambulance chaser.” Lindsay stared pointedly at Michael.
“They’ll be perfect dirt enhancers on my farm.” Julie smiled and thanked her. “I’m sure I’ll be back for more.”
“Next time, don’t bring your boyfriend.”
“I was right,” Michael said on their drive back to the office. “She wouldn’t have spoken if you hadn’t gone along and talked about Adams.”
“That was a pretty lame opening, Michael.”
“But it worked. We got dirt on Adams.”
“Can you use it to make Adams back down?”
“Don’t know. We’ll have to speak with Andrew. He’ll know what to do.”
“I’d love for George Adams to have a great fall, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put George together again.”
“Amen to that.”
As Michael turned into the office parking lot, Julie said, “Michael, please don’t tell Andrew I’m going out to the farm. He told me not to until after the court case is decided. I shouldn’t have told you, but this guy is stalking me and I have to find a way to stop him, if I can.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t want to put anyone in danger. He scares the bejeebers out of me. I’m staying hidden in the barn.”
“Is there a place to park down the road and we can walk onto the property without him seeing us?”
“Yes, I think so. Or you can park in the barn. Still, I don’t want anything to happen to you, to either of us.”
“I really don’t want you out there by yourself. And Andrew asked me to scope out the place awhile back in preparation for going to court. If we run into him, I’ll pretend I’m a surveyor for the court and you’re showing me the boundaries per a court order.”
“Do you think he’ll believe that?”
“I can make it believable. And I always carry my gun, although I don’t think it will come to that.”
Julie reluctantly agreed and Michael pointed the truck toward the western foothills.
“By the way, Julie, thank you for helping me finish the book. I’m glad now you and Andrew pushed me to do it.”
“I think it will have an impact on a lot of people.”
“Whether or not it does, it helped me. So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
After a few more minutes Julie said, “Maybe we should call the sheriff just in case.”
“Do you think Winters is that bad of a guy?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Call him.”
Julie dialed the number and told the dispatcher where they were going and asked if it would be possible for a sheriff or deputy to meet them there.
Michael parked the truck in an abandoned driveway several hundred feet down the road from Julie’s farm. They walked up the road, turned in the weed-covered drive, traveled past the barn, searched for any signs of Frank, then followed the line of an old fallen-down wire fence on the south boundary. Chaffee was sniffing at everything at the end of his leash as they walked through the tall grass.
“The back two acres slope down to the creek,” Julie said quietly, “and I think there’s been some erosion into the creek bed during heavy rains. I’m thinking of terracing back here, if I can ever get Frank to leave me alone.”
They turned north beside the creek bed toward the rusted machinery. They couldn’t see Frank’s farm, and Julie hoped he wasn’t around. Beside an old tractor, brown with rust, Chaffee began digging furiously. He unearthed a bone, then another. Suddenly the hair on the back of Julie’s neck stood on end.
“We need to get out of here,” she whispered to Michael urgently.
Michael turned, reaching for his gun, when Chaffee charged forward toward Frank Winters, and a loud shot rang out. Michael crumpled to the ground.
“Michael!” Julie screamed.
Chaffee was barking ferociously at Frank Winters who was aiming his rifle at Julie. Frank pointed the gun at Chaffee and pulled the trigger. Chaffee yelped and lay still on the ground.
“No!” Julie screamed again.
Frank aimed the rifle at Julie. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you? This is my land. I’ve been storing my machinery on this land for forty years. You and your attorney can go to hell! Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Dirt to Dirt--”
The sheriff’s white vehicle suddenly appeared, speeding over the rise, blue and red lights flashing. The sheriff threw the car into park, jumped out and yelled: “Put down your weapon! I said, Put down your weapon or I’ll shoot!”
Frank turned the gun toward the sheriff. A single shot from the sheriff’s weapon took Frank out of existence.
“Michael!” Julie knelt beside him, his pale face grimaced in agony.
“How ironic,” he said, panting through the pain. “I survive Afghanistan, only to die in a farmer’s field in Colorado.”
“You’re not going to die! You hear me? We’re getting an ambulance here right now. Besides, Andrew will never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.”
Julie placed her hands on the wound in his side and tried to staunch the flow of blood. Michael lost consciousness. The sheriff came over after checking that Frank was dead, and knelt down, placing a large kerchief over the wound.
“I’ve called for an ambulance,” he said."The cruiser hit a buried piece of metal, and flattened a tire, or I'd take him."
“Please don’t let him die,” Julie pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let him come.”
“They’re going to have a dickens of a time getting the ambulance back here.”
“I’ll get Michael’s truck.” It was something she could do while the sheriff applied pressure to Michael’s wound. She quickly checked Chaffee. He had a wound on the shoulder of his front leg. He tried to rise but couldn’t. His sad eyes apologized.
“We’re going to get you help, Chaffee!” she said to him. “We’re going to get both of you help!”
She grabbed the keys from Michael’s pocket and ran as fast as she could, praying her friend and her dog would survive.
She swung the truck into gear and rattled over the driveway and fields to where Michael lay in the deep grass. He looked dead.
“He’s still alive, barely,” the sheriff said. “I got the bleeding to stop somewhat. I’ll need your help to get him into the truck.”
Julie felt useless trying to help the sheriff lift Michael and slide him onto the vinyl bed liner beside the two worm bins.
They managed to load the crippled dog into the back seat. The sheriff climbed into the driver’s seat and Julie sat in the truck bed pressing on Michael’s wound that started to bleed again with the movement.
The ambulance siren announced its arrival at the house as the truck pulled up beside the barn. The paramedics climbed into the truck bed and began working on Michael. Soon, he was placed on a stretcher and whisked away.
Julie checked on Chaffee. He was in bad shape.
“We’ll need to take your statement,” the sheriff said.
“Please let me take my dog to the vet, and make sure Michael is okay. Please, please let me do that, and I’ll give you a statement at the hospital.”
“There’s a vet clinic about two miles from here. You know I heard your dog barking, and then the shots or I wouldn’t have driven out there so quickly.”
“Thank goodness for Chaffee! And for you!”
“I’ll need to stay here to secure the crime scene until backup arrives. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Thank you, Sheriff! I’ll see you there.”
Chapter Eleven
“Andrew, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have let Michael go out there with me. I tried to talk him out of it. I just couldn’t let Fr… that horrible man intimidate and stalk me anymore.”
“Knowing my brother, he probably insisted and dragged you out there with him. Always ready for a fight.”
“Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s in surgery now. We’ll know more in a little while. How’s your dog?”
“Don’t know. They’ll call me when he’s out of surgery.”
“Thank goodness you called the sheriff, or…” Andrew placed his arm around Julie’s shoulders.
“I know.”
Ava and Uncle Charles appeared. “What the hell happened? How is he?”
“Ms. Jaeger?” the sheriff said, entering behind Ava and Charles. “We’d like to talk to you now. We didn’t have time for introductions at the farm. I’m Sheriff Gaines and this is Deputy Harris.”
“I’d like my attorney to be present,” Julie said, gesturing toward Andrew, who was talking with defensively with Ava.
“Did you do something wrong?” Deputy Harris asked suspiciously.
“No, but there were legal issues surrounding the land and Mr. Winters. My attorney, Andrew Carbone, is familiar with the case, and I’d prefer that he and his uncle Charles, also an attorney, be present while I give my statement.”
They found an empty waiting room and Julie explained the steps leading up to Frank’s firing the rifle at Michael.
“And he didn’t say anything in warning?” Deputy Harris asked.
“No. My dog was digging up some bones in the back pasture near all that rusted machinery, and then Frank appeared out of nowhere. My dog charged him, changing Frank’s aim, or I think Michael would be dead now, and then he shot Chaffee, my dog.”
“What kind of bones was your dog digging up?” Sheriff Gaines asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to look at them very closely.”
“There will be a police presence on your property, Ms. Jaeger, looking at evidence. I’m not sure what we’ll find, but we’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, Sheriff Gaines. I’ll cooperate in any way I can.”
“If that’s all Sheriff, I’d like to see how my brother is doing.” Andrew rose to leave, concluding the interview.
Charles, Andrew and the deputy left the room. Sheriff Gaines stayed behind, his hat in his hand.
“Have we met somewhere before?” he asked as Julie turned to leave also.
“I don’t think so. But you do seem familiar.”
“Very peculiar.” He thought a moment more, and then said, “I’ll be out to your place tomorrow and let you know what’s going on.”
“I’ll appreciate it,” Julie said.
“Mr. Carbone?” the doctor inquired in the outside waiting room.
“Yes! We’re here.” Andrew and Charles said. “I’m Andrew, his brother, and this is my uncle. How is he?”
“He’s out of surgery. The bullet missed any vital organs, but he lost a lot of blood. We’ll know more in the next few hours, but it looks optimistic.”
Julie began to cry. “I was so afraid he was…”
Andrew put his arm around her shoulders. “You helped get him here quickly. That helped save him. I’m… we’re so grateful.”
Ava stepped to Julie’s side, and placed her arm around her, encircling Andrew’s. “Yes, we are most grateful.”
Julie felt a tension on either side but her phone buzzed, and the vet was calling. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”
Ava looked at Andrew accusingly and he opened his arms in innocence. “What? She just needed some comfort after everything she went through.”
“We’ll be talking about this at home!”
Chapter Twelve
“Eighty-seven.” Sheriff Gaines had stopped to speak with Julie after one of his many visits to the acreage. “We found bones from eighty-seven bodies.”
“That many?” Julie said in disbelief. A myriad of emotions cascaded across her face.
“Winters accessed the back of this property from his. With the slope of the land, no one saw him using a back hoe. He dug the holes deep. We may never have found out what he was doing if your dog hadn’t dug up those bones closer to the surface where the rain washed some of the ground away. He must have been doing this for years.”
“Who were all those people?” Julie asked and shuddered. A few more seconds and she would have been one of those moldering corpses. She pulled her thoughts back from that abyss.
“We’re still working on identifying all of them. Some may have been hitchhikers he picked up apparently in other states. We’ve got a lot of cold cases we’ll be re-opening after finding all of this.
“You know my Dad went to school with Frank Winters,” the sheriff continued, “and he said he was always an odd guy. Talking about cutting off animal heads, creepy stuff. I always thought about that when I patrolled the road by yours and Frank’s place. Never thought to look in the back pasture.”
“I’m so glad I had Chaffee with me that day or I’d probably be rotting under one of those machines, too.”
“Good ole Chaffee. How is your dog?’
Chaffee in response to hearing his name limped over to Julie’s side. She put a gentle hand on his head. “He’ll be a while recovering, but he should regain the complete use of his leg in a few months.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Chaffee smiled at the sheriff. He was a good judge of character.
“I think I finally remembered where I know you from,” he said. “Did you go to Jefferson High School?
“Yes, Graduated in 1998.”
“I did, too.”
“Of course!” Julie finally recognized him. “You’re Tom Gaines!” Memories flooded back. She had liked the tall, quiet young man from high school. He had been dating one of the popular girls--she couldn’t remember her name.
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot. I mean…”
“Sheriff humor, I see. Not too funny, though, if you think about what happened here a few days ago. I’m still under investigation by the department.”
He could see he’d upset her.
“Let me try that again. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? That is, if I’ve assumed correctly, and you’re not married.”
“No. I’m not married. Never have been. You?”
“My wife passed away from cancer last year. Cherie was my high school sweetheart.”
Cherie—that was her name. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“So, the answer is No, you won’t have coffee with me?”
“No, I meant I wasn’t married. The answer to your other question is Yes.”
“Tomorrow around eleven AM work for you? I can meet you at the Enchanted Grounds Coffee Shop on W. Bowles.”
“Do they have good donuts?”
“More Sheriff humor, eh?”
“Have to make light of something with all the horrific things that have happened here.”
“What are you going to do with the land after the evidence gathering is done? You going to sell? Most people would be frightened off after what you went through.”
“I’m staying. I’ll terrace the back half and create a memory pool and park to honor those who were buried there. It will fit in with my planting design.”
“That sounds like a great idea. Tomorrow at eleven?”
“See you then.”
“Andrew, I want to thank you and Charles for helping me get all this legal stuff taken care of on my land. The dirt is finally mine.”
“You’re most welcome,” Charles said.
“We have you to thank, too, Julie,” Andrew said. “Thanks to you finding out his motives and what happened to Lindsay Garrison, Adams has backed off his attacks on us and the Botticelli painting is safe. We still might go after him if we can convince his victims to testify and endure a trial, but at least he’s decided not to pursue his lawsuit against us. And our business has doubled with the notoriety from the newspaper accounts about your farm. Although that might be kind of a negative for you that you’ll have to put up for a while. And Michael—”
“What are you saying about me now?”
“Michael!” Julie went to hug her friend. “I’m so glad to see you up and around!”
“Can’t keep me down for long.” His movements were slow and deliberate, but he was on the mend. “Thanks for all the visits to the hospital.”
“And if you keep bringing us food like this Carbonara,” Uncle Charles said around a mouthful of pasta, “we’ll also have to hire you to be our new CEO--Chief Eating Officer. This is amazing!”
“Hi, Julie,” Ava said, appearing beside her husband, a reticent smile on her face.
“Ava! I’m so glad to see you!” Julie went to hug the lovely woman, but felt a stiff response.
“We’ve got plenty to keep you busy, Julie, if you’d like to keep working for us,” Andrew said. “We all talked it over,” he glanced at his wife who didn’t seem too pleased standing next to him, “and we’d be happy if you stayed on here at the Carbone Law Firm.”
“I will if I can have a flexible schedule. I’ll have some things to do on the farm, and I have a few appointments to keep.”
“A flexible schedule is fine,” Andrew said. “You can even do some of the work from home, if you like.”
“And you can help me with my legal investigation for the firm,” Michael said. “Although it might be some odd hours.”
“Are you going to have time for investigating? From what I hear, you’re going to be attending a lot of book signings now that your book is heading toward the best-seller list.”
Michael shrugged self-consciously. “My publisher friend said I’ll be the voice of the guys who didn’t make it back. I can live with that. Couldn’t have done it without you, Julie. But investigating will be my main focus.”
“I think we might make a pretty good team,” Julie said, “especially when you and I are digging up dirt on low lifes, like George Adams.”
"That dirty scoundrel is history!"
“You going to keep bringing us veggies and good things to eat?” Charles asked.
“Although of course you can’t cook as well as my beautiful wife here,” Andrew added, putting his arm around his wife’s waist, who looked none too pleased.
“You’re not out of the dog house yet, Carbone,” Ava said.
What’s going on? Julie’s glance questioned Michael. He shrugged his ignorance. Andrew and Ava were having a spat about something.
“Ava, you ready for a shopping trip in the next few weeks?” Julie asked.
“Maybe!” Ava said coolly. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Something in white?” Julie said, a smile playing on her lips.
“What does that mean?” Ava asked, noting the sparkle in Julie’s eyes.
“I’ll know more after 11 AM tomorrow.”
“OK, spill the spaghetti,” Ava said, glancing at Andrew and seeing true surprise on his face. So, it wasn’t him Julie was talking about. She released a pent-up sigh, instantly forgiving her husband. Sometimes her jealousy just ran away with her. “Who is he? Do we know him? You know your new Italian family will have to approve him.”
“I’ll share, my dear friends, all in good time. Just have a feeling is all. But I wouldn’t be in this great place without all of you. You want to come to dinner at my place on Saturday? House isn’t quite ready. Appliances are coming today. But we can have a picnic. Try out more of my Italian recipes? I already have some of my vegetables harvested. And maybe a certain someone will be there. I’ll know more after tomorrow.” She always made speeches when her emotions were heating up, especially when she thought of a handsome man like Tom Gaines. She needed to stop talking. “So do you want to come over on Saturday?” she added breathlessly.
“Yes!” all four Carbone’s said unanimously.
Julie smiled happily. That’s what my life is about now. Good old-fashioned Woman of the Dirt! Better than Gold.
The End
Copyright August, 2021 Laura Deane LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.