PART 2 INVESTIGATIONS

“WHAT SHOULD WE DO?” Penny gasped; her eyes transfixed on the gruesome appendage protruding from the now-exposed creek bank. The discolored bone was gray and streaked with brown mud, disappearing into the hightop sneaker with a red Nike swoosh still visible under the grime.

“We call in the crime scene team.” Chuck’s voice calmed Penny as he took her hand, helping her back up the slippery incline. Once back on the pasture’s scrubby grass, he looked seriously into Penny’s face. “Did your family ever bury anyone out here?”

“No!” Penny’s face was a maelstrom of fear, confusion, and also anger at Chuck for asking. “We never buried anybody. Maybe it’s from before dad bought the farm.”

“Not wearing a Nike sneaker,” Chuck mumbled his reply, not wanting to spook Penny. “Let’s get back. That fire isn’t spreading anywhere.” death. She did not give a road-side opinion on whether it was a homicide, or how long the body had been buried. The biggest question, of course, was the identity of the corpse. Within a few hours, the small town of Westfield was abuzz with speculation.

He took her hand again and pulled Penny away from the creek. She looked back at the still-smoldering oak tree and at the rushing creek. The image of the raw bone protruding from the mud was seared into her memory.

ON SATURDAY, MORE THAN a hundred cars paraded to the cemetery after a heartfelt memorial service for “Farmer Gary” Thompson. Pastor Thurmond had to limit the number of speakers, then read the names of everyone else who had volunteered to give a testimonial.

After the burial, Chuck briefed Penny on the investigation into the mystery body. “The coroner says the body was a male between eighteen and twenty. She’s pretty sure the boy was murdered, based on the hole in his skull. We checked all the records in the past few years about missing teenagers. His sneakers were an Air Jordan 1 retro model that was released for sale four years ago, which narrows down the search parameters.”

“How many missing persons fit that profile?” Penny asked, glad to talk about something other than her sainted father and how sad everyone was.

BY NOON, FOUR SHERIFF’S DEPUTIES, two grave diggers from the local mortuary, and the county coroner were working in the blazing sun to carefully extract the remains. Recovering the skeleton, shreds of clothing, and fragments of partially-preserved skin, was a slow process. By sundown, the remains had been fully exhumed and laid on a blue tarp in the back of an F-150 pickup. The coroner announced, without an autopsy, that the hole in the skeleton’s skull, above the left ear, was the likely cause of

“There are no unsolved murders in the county. We identified two files on kids who disappeared, but the investigations all concluded that the boys ran away because of problems at home. We don’t know where they went, so it’s possible one of them is our body. We’re checking on descriptions and dental records. Our skull has a clean set of teeth, so we should be able to make an ID from that without needing DNA analysis.”

“You think somebody killed one of those boys and then decided to dump the body on our farm?”

“It’s possible. The ground would be soft there next to the creek.”

“It really creeps me out. I love that creek.”

Chuck reached out and gently touched Penny’s elbow. “I remember.”

Penny put her hand on Chuck’s, feeling his warmth and strength. The funeral director chose then to tap her on the shoulder. As her black limo pulled away from the cemetery, she looked out the window and waved at Chuck.

Penny stared out the window. She could see the north field where the pumpkins grew every year. A few tufts of weeds stuck up from the dry, tan ground. She could tell that nothing had been planted there recently. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to look into that. Thanks for calling.” When she hung up, the thought crossed her mind that she could plant the pumpkin crop, but she dismissed it as crazy. She had not told the Mayor she intended to sell. He seemed so anxious that she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

ON MONDAY MORNING, Penny called her boss at the marketing firm where she had worked for nearly a year. “I’m really sorry, but I’m going to need more time off than I thought. . . . No, I’m fine, it’s just that things here are more complicated than I expected. . . . I need to clean up some, um, problems before I can come back. . . . Thanks for understanding. I’ll call you at the end of the week and let you know where things are.”

Penny stared at the black handset, attached to the kitchen wall by a long, coiled cord with multiple kinks. She recalled pulling that cord to its limits while trying to find a private place where she could have a sweetheart conversation with Chuck. Her father refused to get a cordless phone. The old land line was good enough for him, so it was good enough for his kids. She always felt like their farm house was frozen in the 1970s.

Penny put out food for Duke, but before she could sit down to her morning yogurt and granola, the phone’s piercing bell called her back. It was Mayor Almon, again. After expressing his sympathy, he got to the point. “I’m not trying to put any pressure on you, but, well, I hate to even bring this up, but in order to keep the farm going under the terms of the open space agreement, you need to be growing something on the land.”

“The corn’s growing,” Penny responded. “Not well, because of the heat, but it’s growing. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make a maze from it, but it’s there.”

“That’s great. It would be a shame if the kids don’t have a corn maze this year, but I completely understand. If you decide to stay, I know the town would be so happy to have pumpkins in the fall. Did your father plant yet?”

At noon, Chuck called to report no progress in the investigation into the mystery body. Sheriff Jack Baskins had expanded the search to any missing boys in the whole state. The coroner sent DNA samples to the state crime lab and to the FBI to see if they could match the body to any open cases. It was a slow process.

Penny had uncovered as much of her father’s financial records as she needed to feel comfortable about paying off all the outstanding bills without overdrawing the checking account. According to the bank statements, the town made its $12,500 open space payment directly into her father’s checking account on the first of every month. It wasn’t enough to make her want to stay and live with the ghosts.

She had an appointment Tuesday morning with her father’s lawyer to talk about settling the estate. Without anything else to do, Penny spent several hours in the barn with Duke, working on the old tractor. There was a fully functioning tractor in the equipment shed, with plow and planter attachments. But Penny didn’t want to use the new tractor. She wanted to ride the old one – the one she drove around the farm as a girl. It passed the time in an environment with no Wi-Fi, and a pathetically weak cell signal. Chuck brought her a new battery on Sunday. By Monday afternoon, Penny got the old girl cleaned up, but still could not get her engine to turn over. The problem was definitely the starter. She could fix many things, but not a starter. She would have to go to the John Deere store.

After a shower, Penny roamed the old house, looking for anything she might want to salvage for herself before everything went to Goodwill. Duke dutifully followed behind her. There wasn’t much. She stood at the end of the upstairs hallway for two full minutes before forcing herself to open the door to Eric’s bedroom.

The musty odor of stale air hit her hard. Her dead brother’s single bed, its powder blue comforter stretched tautly, sat patiently under wall posters of Harry Styles, Halsey, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry. A black blotter on a painted oak desk waited for homework assignments that would never come. Her father had not touched the room since Eric’s funeral.

Opening the closet door, she scanned Eric’s clothes, which brought back another tsunami of memories she had deeply buried and did not welcome. She flopped onto the hardwood floor and dragged out a shoebox from the corner. Inside was a mess of papers and small items – Eric’s learner’s permit, a dried flower in a plastic sleeve, high school transcripts, and the acceptance letter from Brown University for the freshman year he never had. She realized she was crying only when a tear splashed onto an envelope. It felt good to cry, so she didn’t try to stop.

She noticed a photograph in which Eric smiled happily. Her brother was seldom happy, so it warmed her heart. He stood on a boulder she recognized; next to a small lake a few miles away where they went swimming when their little creek wasn’t deep enough. Wearing a bathing suit, his smooth chest bare, he looked younger than she remembered. His left arm was thrown casually around the shoulder of another boy. She didn’t recognize him, but he smiled as widely as Eric. On the back of the photo, in Eric’s wobbly script, it said “with Oliver.” She dropped the photo into a canvas bag, which she had been dragging around the house like she was trick-or-treating on Halloween, expecting to fill it with mementos before the house got sold. Eric’s photo became the first treat.

Duke barked and bounded toward the stairs. Moments later, Penny heard the approaching vehicle. Outside, a tall man wearing a red blazer, even in the sweltering heat, leaned against a white Ford Taurus. He had wavy brown hair and a smile punctuated by teeth brighter than the overhead sun. “You must be Penny,” he called.

“Who’s asking?” She reached down to massage Duke’s head as the dog emitted a low growl in the direction of the stranger.

“Arthur Madden, Century real estate. I heard about your father and wanted to come settle up our deal. Since you’ll get the proceeds, I’m guessing you’ll want to get that done pretty quickly. Am I right?” He again flashed his artificially whitened teeth, as if Penny would swoon at the sight of his dimples.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Madden reached into a shiny briefcase and held up a yellow folder. “Why don’t we get out of this sun and I’ll fill you in?”

With Duke’s ears pricked up and alert, Penny allowed the real estate agent into the kitchen and offered him a Coke. He spread some papers on the smooth wooden table surface and explained that Gary Thompson had made a deal two years earlier to sell the farm to a group of real estate developers represented by Madden. “It should be in your father’s will.”

Penny picked up a pile of papers, noting that none bore her father’s signature. “Dad never told me anything about this. Besides, he had a deal with the town. They pay him to keep the farm working and undeveloped. When he dies – died – the town has an option to buy the land. I don’t think Dad could have made any other deal, with you or with anyone else.”

Madden’s facial expression didn’t change. “Have you read his will?”

“No. I’m meeting with Dad’s lawyer tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll see that the will includes the deal. You’ll be getting the million dollars.”

“A million dollars?” she dropped the papers.

“Yep. That’s the sale price, and it goes to you. You’re the only surviving heir, right?”

Penny dropped her head. “Yes. I’m it.”

“Great. Well – it’s not great that you are the only member of your family left, but it’s great that you’ll get the money. I’m guessing that working the farm isn’t what you have in mind for the rest of your life, huh?”

“Probably not.”

Madden stood and extended a gold-colored business card. “You give me a call after you talk to your lawyer.” She took the card, seeing that the man wasn’t leaving until she did. He showed himself out while Penny read through the transaction papers he left behind. Was it possible her father agreed to sell to these developers?

That evening, Chuck arrived, wearing overalls and carrying a pizza. He was ready to spend his non-working time helping Penny work on the old tractor. As starry-eyed teens, they snuck out to the barn to make out in the hay loft. Penny never let Chuck get her naked, but they explored each other as much as physically possible with clothes mostly on. Since her return to town, Chuck had been a perfect gentleman, although Penny sensed from his attention that he hoped to rekindle their former heat. But she wasn’t ready. She hadn’t had a serious romantic attachment since Eric died. They managed to spend three hours tinkering with the dormant engine and talking about their high school days. Chuck even made her laugh a few times.

The next morning, Chuck accompanied Penny on her errands in town, happy to be her chauffeur. She could have driven her father’s truck, but there were ghosts in the truck. The new ghost – the one they dug out of the creek – haunted her dreams. She was happy to have Chuck’s company.

They started at John Deere, where Mr. Blyer behind the parts desk took down the information on the old tractor and promised to expedite an order for a new starter. Then they parked downtown, across from the movie theater, and walked to the ground-level storefront of Stuart King, attorney-at-law.

“Would you come in with me?” Penny asked with pleading eyes.

“Sure. I wouldn’t want to leave you alone with old Stuart.”

The lawyer wore a three-piece suit with a silk tie. His white hair and gold pocket watch completed the look of a gentleman from the 19th century. After some awkward small-talk and King’s expression of condolences, the lawyer handed each of them a copy of Gary Thompson’s last will and testament. It was not a complex document. When he finished explaining that Penny would inherit the farm and all her father’s other assets, she asked, “Is there anything in there about a deal to sell the farm to a real estate developer?”

King shook a puzzled head. “No, nothing about anything like that, and he wouldn’t be able to do that anyway. His deal with the town required him to keep the farm until his death, or sell it to the town. Of course, now that you own the farm, you could sell it to a developer.”

“What do you mean? I thought I could only sell to the town.”

King looked up. “No, I’m very sure the restrictions on selling the property ended with Gary’s death. You own the property free and clear. The payments from the town for keeping the land undeveloped will continue as long as a family member satisfies the conditions of the open space deal, but if you want to sell, you can sell to anyone. Who told you otherwise?”

Don’t miss part 3 of the ten-part serial novella, Ghost Creek, from award-winning mystery author Kevin G. Chapman.

Clich here to listen to the first two chapters!

Kevin G. Chapman is an attorney specializing in labor and employment law and an independent author from New Jersey. In 2021, Kevin finished the first five books in the Mike Stoneman Thriller series. Righteous Assassin (Mike Stoneman Thriller #1), was named one of the top 20 Mystery/Thrillers of 2019 by the Kindle Book Review and was a finalist for the Chanticleer Book Review CLUE award. Deadly Enterprise (Mike Stoneman Thriller #2) was a top-20 Mystery/Thriller of 2020 according to the Kindle Book Review and made the Short-List for the 2020 CLUE Award. Book #3, Lethal Voyage, was the winner of the 2021 Kindle Book Award and a Finalist for the CLUE and for the InD’Tale Magazine RONE Award. Book #4 in the series, Fatal Infraction, was named Best Police Procedural of the year by the Chanticleer Book Review, and book #5 (Perilous Gambit) was published November 24, 2021. The Mike Stoneman Thriller series books are available through IngramSpark and bookshop.org. Dead Winner, a stand-alone mystery, was the winner of the CLUE Award for best suspense/thriller of 2022. Kevin’s next novel, The Other Murder, will be published in early 2024. Contact Kevin via his website at www.KevinGChapman.com.

Did You Know?

In 1929, author J.M. Barrie gifted his rights of Peter Pan to The Great Ormond Street Hospital in London. To this day, Mr. Barrie’s gift helps fund the hospital that treats ill children, as they receive royalties from every purchase of the Peter Pan book, and the plays and movies telling the story. What an incredible gift!

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continued from page 37 some really creepy, scary, unnerving stories that most of us will recognize. A lot are iconic. I’ll never eat fava beans or look at green pea soup the same. Luckily, I have memories of being a kid and reading some of these.

So as the days grow shorter, the evenings darker, and Halloween crawls ever nearer, take a little time for yourselves and enjoy something different… Something to keep you awake all night. Just be careful when you wake up and see yourself in the mirror. That is pretty damn scary sometimes.