Chapter 19
When Mabs returned with dinner she brought three plastic boxes. “Here you are honey and you, you, old coot.” A look passed between them which I found surprising, as if they shared a secret which I was not part of.”
“Thank you, Mabs. Please join us,” Father said.
“No. Wait,” I protested. “Father, I have questions. You don’t mind do you, Mabs?”
Mabs ignored me. She retrieved a chair from her office and dragged it into mine. She opened her dinner box and made herself at home. “What did I miss?”
Father dug into his sandwich with gusto.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked him.
But his mouth was full and, to my surprise, Mabs answered for him. Her face flushed. “Last night. My place.”
“What?” Father grinned and continued chewing on his turkey on rye.
“I have a confession,” Mabs said. “He’s been living in my basement. Eating at my house. Sometimes he sneaks into your basement to shower and change clothes.” She held her nose. “But I guess it’s been awhile.”
Father grinned and nodded.
“What the hell is going on here between you two?”
Father said, “I told you it’s a long story.”
“Well, out with it. Because if you don’t explain yourself, right here, right now, then I’m the town fool.”
“Oh, honey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re just getting your feet wet,” Mabs said.
“Feet wet, for hell. I’m drowning in murders, subterfuge, and town secrets.”
Father set his dinner box on the desk. “I can explain.”
“By all means. Please do.”
“Couple of months ago, I started getting anonymous threats. Letters in the mail, emails, notes on my windshield. But I ignored them, until your mother started getting the same treatment. One day, Federov, the guy who owns GrainAg, came in here and gave us an ultimatum. Said he’d give us a fair price to purchase the newspaper for seventy-five grand. I laughed at him and told him point blank the paper was not for sale. He tried to convince us he was making a generous offer, more than any other weekly paper in Kansas was worth. I laughed at him again. He didn’t take well to that. He came back the following week and offered us less. Sixty grand, I think. He said the clock was ticking and if we didn’t take his offer, we might regret it—”
“Regret what?”
“At that time, I thought he was making a vague bluff in hopes of forcing us into a quick decision to sell. I told him nicely, he was wasting his time. We still were not for sale. Well, he was like a dog on a bone and wouldn’t give up. One night I was out driving in the county enjoying the scenery and the sunset, clearing my mind. You know, the way I used to take you for rides. Well, as I came over a rise out by Standard Lake, there was a big Hummer parked cattywampus blocking the road. Federov was standing in front of that monster with his hands folded across his chest. Another guy was with him, who I later learned was his security guard. Guy name of Greg Robinson. Maybe you heard of him?”
“Are you kidding me? Walt Skeats shot him trespassing on his farm. Walt said Robinson threatened to shoot first.”
“That’s right,” Father said.
“How’d you know about this?”
“It’s not important. I hear things. See things which most people miss. Anyway, I got out of my car and asked Federov if he was okay. He said he’d be better soon as your mother and I sold the paper, or stopped writing nasty editorials about his company and what he called innuendos associating GrainAg with the cow deaths happening in the county—”
“Hold on, Father. Are you saying you had proof GrainAg was involved?”
“Close to it and we were getting closer. Young Yancey was doing a bang-up job of reporting despite Sheriff Chad’s continuous suggestions that we were on the wrong track.”
“What was Chad’s interest in your reporting and editorials?”
“Good question. You might want to pursue that line of thinking. In fact, I’d start with learning more about his fancy truck.”
“Actually, I have.”
“Good. And…”
“I talked to the Ford dealership in Derby. They didn’t have that model on their lot. They got a truck from Wichita, but Chad didn’t pay for it.”
“Bet I can guess who,” Mabs said.”
“Go ahead. What’s your guess?” I said.
“GrainAg bought it for him.”
“Bingo.”
“Why that sonofabitch. He’s in their pocket,” Mabs said.
“Beginning to look that way. Back to Federov. Father, did he threaten you?”
“Yep. His man Robinson put a pistol to my temple while Federov called me a fool for ignoring his offers, which he said would grow less and less by the week. Be a shame, he said, if something should happen to Grace.”
“Did mother know about this?”
“Oh, yes. I told her everything and that’s when we hatched our plan. When Federov called me a fool he gave me the idea to act like I had lost my mind. That’s when I officially became our unofficial town fool. I figured he might leave me alone and your mother could continue running the newspaper without interference.”
Mabs cut in. “And like I told you, that’s when Federov started showing up with flowers for Grace. Acting all nice and flirty. Still making offers to buy.”
Father said, “Sam, he was trying to shut us up. And you, too. You know that bomb was meant for you?”
“Yes. But I still don’t understand GrainAg’s connection to the cow deaths.”
“Ah, there’s the nub, Sam. GrainAg’s on a mission to run the small farmers out of business and to buy up their land on the cheap. And Federov’s been successful with three farms he bought since the middle of January.”
“But why?”
“That’s the missing link to the whole story. Now it’s your job to find out.”
I glanced at Mabs who stared at me with her big brown eyes, nodding in agreement. “Father, I, I, uh, can’t do this. Not by myself.”
“You’re not alone,” Father and Mabs said in unison. “We’ve got your back,” Mabs said.
I couldn’t sit any longer. My mind felt blown, as if suddenly filled with helium and popped like a balloon. Father, the town fool. Not the town fool. Wily as a fox. Mabs the sophist, the enabler, confidant, and secret helper. Mother murdered. A bomb meant for me. It was too much. I couldn’t breathe. I paced the floor. I stood in the corner and screamed.
Father turned to Mabs. “I think we blew her mind.”
And here we go!
I liked Mab's last line's understatement.