Biscuits and Slashed Browns Read online

  Turner had shown me more or less where the hunting shed was. I’d seen a stream on the map as a landmark. If I was in luck, an old road would run along there. If I wasn’t lucky, I’d be hiking around in unknown territory, never a good idea. It would be dark in a few hours, and even Sajit didn’t merit getting stranded alone in the woods.

  Next, I zoomed in on the Rao farm on the maps app. Sure enough, a small road ran along the perimeter where Turner had said the hunting shack was. I needed to drive back to the main road and circle around, but it was only a couple of miles. First I sent Abe a text telling him where I was headed. I copied Turner, just in case he showed up. Should I try to find Sajit by myself, anyway? No, I scolded myself. You shouldn’t. I called Phil and heaved a sigh of relief when he picked up.

  “Can you come on an adventure with me?” I asked.

  When he said he would, and that Noreen had gone home to Bloomington, I e-mailed him the URL for the map.

  “You can be there in twenty minutes?” I responded to his answer. “Cool. Thanks, my friend.” He said he was coming from the opposite direction.

  It took me a while to bump along the perimeter road. It would probably be described as “improved” on a map since it wasn’t merely dirt, but any improvements had been made many years ago. Packed gravel vied with ruts and rocks, making the going slow indeed. At last I reached the spot where my phone showed a creek crossing onto the abutting property. I hadn’t seen a house or a single soul since I’d left the paved road.

  I also didn’t see Phil. Where was he? It had been at least twenty minutes. The dashboard clock said it was more like half an hour since I’d called him.

  I pulled over and climbed out, donning my knit hat and gloves, and left my emergency blinkers going on the van, just in case. In case of what, I had no idea. I made sure the phone was in my barn coat pocket. I waited for Phil, pacing in front of the van. I couldn’t delay too long or it would get dark. A text buzzed my pocket. Reading it, I shook my head. Phil had had gotten into a fender bender. He assured me everyone was all right, but it was going to take a while to straighten out. I was on my own.

  Turning to the woods, I saw, as the map had indicated, a small stream babbling into a culvert that led under the road. To the stream’s right was what looked like a path through dense woods. The surrounding tree branches were bare, but the undergrowth of saplings and brush grew as thick as a hairbrush in places. A path was excellent news, since I hadn’t brought loppers to clear the way.

  So far my luck was holding. I took a deep breath and headed in, feeling just a little like Gretel, except I knew I had no small stones or breadcrumbs to follow, nor a big brother to rely on. I might still come across a wicked witch in a candy-decorated house made of cake with windowpanes of sugar.

  As I walked, I called out, “Sajit! Hello? Dr. Rao?” a few times. I stopped each time so I could listen for an answer but caught only the semi-silence of nature: a breeze rustling treetops, a squirrel up a trunk scolding with a raspy “ack-ack-ack” answered by the drumming of a woodpecker in the distance. No human voice. Not a one. What had I been thinking?

  * * *

  I continued for several more minutes. As I stopped to peer into the woods, I saw it. An object where only trees should be. A structure with the kind of human-made angles otherwise not occurring in nature. Crosswise boards contradicting the vertical lines of the woods. And . . . did I smell wood smoke?

  The path continued straight, but I veered to the left toward what could only be the shack. With my eyes on the structure about ten yards distant, I almost immediately tripped on a fallen sapling. I cried out and crashed forward. But this time when I grabbed at a branch it held. I hopped on one foot to free the other from the obstacle, my heart thudding like a jackhammer in my chest. I cursed my nerves, my short legs, and my lack of grace while I waited to calm down.

  I resumed picking my way toward the shack, looking up at my destination, down at my route, up, down, until the next time I looked up I was only a couple of yards away. I sniffed again. Now I couldn’t catch a whiff of smoke. I must have been mistaken. I couldn’t see any person, either, and no one had emerged to confront my cries.

  Narrowing my eyes, I considered my options. I knew that if Dr. Rao was in fact the killer, he might not take kindly to my invading his hideaway. But if he’d killed the professor, why wouldn’t he have split town? Taken a car—his or another family member’s—and fled? Why hide on his own property? I mentally shrugged. If a person thought murdering someone was a good idea, they were already not the sharpest tool in the toolbox.

  I glanced around and spied a long stick. I picked it up. It was something, at least. Just in case. It was equally possible Dr. Rao was hurt, or had been attacked himself. If I went into the shed, it seemed clear I’d either end up the victim or the rescuer, unless he’d been voluntarily hiding out and was perfectly healthy. Still, I wanted to investigate.

  I waffled for another minute, standing there, cudgel in hand, wrestling with my thoughts. In the end I decided I was going in. I just couldn’t figure out if I should announce myself or not. My brain spun with the choices. Or maybe I didn’t have to actually go in. I could call Turner and tell him . . . what? I was at the shack? He and his mom had pretty much asked me not to come here. I pulled out my phone, anyway. And swore because I had zero reception. I should have known. So much for that idea.

  From where I stood I couldn’t see any windows in the rudimentary shack. The stumps in front of the structure showed old cuts of having been felled in the past, even though seedlings now grew back. I took another deep breath and let it out. Gripping my found staff, I picked my way toward the front. I rounded the corner and stopped.

  Two steps led up to the entrance. The door tilted away off its bottom hinge like it was part of a crazy house at a carnival. The interior of the shed was dark. Only the first couple of feet were dimly lit by the filtered light of the forest.

  “Dr. Rao?” My voice came out a croak. “Sajit Rao?” I queried, this time stronger. I kept my gaze on the interior, hoping my eyes would adjust.

  “I am here.” His low baritone was so weak I could barely hear.

  I glanced behind me. No big brother stood there encouragingly, no knight or other person in shining armor waited to step in. There never had been such a person, once my courageous mom was gone, and I wouldn’t want a savior, anyway. My life was up to me.

  I picked my way up the steps and scooted around the corner of the door, still gripping my staff.

  “Ms. Jordan?” His voice rose. “What are you doing here?”

  By now I could see him sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, arms resting on raised knees.

  “I came to find you. What are you doing here, is more the question.” I set the stick to the side and squatted in front of him. “Your family is nuts with worry.”

  “And well they might be.” He stared at the floor in front of him.

  Now I could make out he sat on a blanket. On top of a small box in the corner was a bottle of maple syrup and a liter plastic water bottle. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw cobwebs looping down from the upper corners of the space. A rickety chair and small table were to my left, and a rudimentary cot holding a thin striped mattress had been shoved against the wall beyond them. Desiccated spider egg sacs hung from silken threads under the chair. I hugged myself, hoping I didn’t have to stay in this creepy long-abandoned relic for long.

  I pointed to the two bottles. “Is that all you’ve had since yesterday morning?”

  “Yes. I had to leave in a hurry. Those two were all I could grab.” A shiver ran through him and his teeth began to chatter.

  “Dr. Rao, we have to get you out of here.” I removed my coat and draped it over his shoulders. I touched his hand, which was nearly stone cold. “Come on. Let me help you up. My van is on the road. It’s not far at all.” I was dying to ask him why he disappeared. Questions could come later. “Please?”

  “No. I am worthless. I dese
rve to die out here. Don’t tell my family. Better they believe I left and went far away. Better they think I deserted them than . . .”

  “Than what?”

  He lifted his head to look me in the face. “Than knowing I’m a murderer.”

  Chapter 18

  I stared. “You are?” Should I just turn and run?

  “Go.” He waved me away with his hand. “I didn’t do away with him purposefully, but I am responsible for his death. I pushed Warren. He hit his head and he fell down dead. I killed him, Ms. Jordan. I am not good to anyone. Not to my family, not to the world.”

  No, Dr. Rao. You didn’t kill him. “Wait a minute.” My squat was bothering my knees, so I eased down to sit cross-legged facing him. The rough wooden floor was cold and uneven under me, and I sneezed from old dust. “So you say you made the professor hit his head.”

  “I did. Warren pushed me one step too far, with his taunting and his evil ways. So I pushed him back, literally. But I never meant to kill him, Ms. Jordan. You have to believe me.”

  “Where were you when this happened?”

  “Behind the Nashville Inn. By the dumpster.” He let out a jagged breath. “What does it matter now? He’s dead, isn’t he?” He stared at the ground.

  “Dr. Rao, listen to me. What killed Warren Connolly wasn’t hitting his head.”

  He wagged his head back and forth, over and over. “No, you’re wrong, wrong, wrong,” he muttered. “I know I killed him. He lay on the ground so still. As still as death.”

  “You might have hurt him,” I went on. “But whoever took his life did it by . . .” Wait. I knew the police would frown on my revealing the actual method of death to him or to anyone else. “He didn’t die from being hit,” I finished. “The means of death was something else.”

  He fell silent, his eyes intent on mine. After a few moments, he spoke. “This is news to me.”

  “My aunt Adele found him. . . .” Once again I stopped myself. I shouldn’t tell him where the body was found, either. “I can’t tell you any more details, but you are innocent.” Of murder, anyway.

  “But I . . .” He gazed out the door. “What have I done?”

  Huh? What did he mean? “Will you come with me now? I know two or three people who will be extremely happy to see you.” I stood and extended my hand.

  “Very well.” When he pushed up to standing, he swayed and grabbed at the wall.

  I reached out to steady him. “Have you been drinking water today?”

  “No.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “There was no point.”

  “Drink a few swallows now. Please? I need you to be able to walk out of here.” I was strong, but not strong enough to haul a man both taller and heavier than me. I kept one hand on his arm so he didn’t tip over and reached for the water bottle with my other hand. After I uncapped the container, he drank like a person who’d crossed the Mojave Desert. Which, in a sense, he had. Except his was a wooded self-created wilderness, not a sere barren landscape. Maybe he needed a blood sugar boost, too. “Want a shot of maple, too?”

  “No. If we’re going, let’s get it over with.” He stood tall. “I’m fine.” He set down the water bottle, then lifted off my coat and handed it to me.

  I now saw he wore a flannel-lined denim work coat, himself. A fleece collar snugged around his neck under it.

  I handed him the walking stick. “Use this.” When we made our way down the steps into the clearing, I spied a path leading off it, which must intersect with the one I’d come in on. No need to bushwhack through to the way back to my van.

  I wished I could let Turner know I’d found his father and we were on our way home. Calling would have to wait. I started moving and took the lead, but I kept glancing back to make sure Sajit was steady.

  The light here in the forest was dimming at an alarming rate. When I glanced up, the sky was now gray instead of blue. Clouds must have blown in. Sunset shouldn’t be for another hour, hour and a half, but the woods and the cloud cover changed everything. My senses heightened. I half expected a predator of some kind to come racing toward us—a bear, a mountain lion, a wolf—but told myself to get a grip. This was Brown County, not the High Sierra. Still, I’d heard bobcats were making a comeback in the area—coyotes already had—and hoped neither would attack us.

  Our little walkway in fact ended at the slightly wider path. I’d turned left off the path to get to the shack, so now I took the right. I was blessed with an excellent navigational sense. It had served me well in all my bicycling trips. But I’d never been so glad to see open sky as when we emerged from those woods.

  * * *

  The four Raos and I sat around the table in the Rao kitchen half an hour later. The house had been lit up when we’d arrived, for which I’d been thankful. I really hadn’t wanted to bring Sajit directly to the police in the state he was in. The man needed food, a warm drink, a shower, and clean clothes—in that order—before he turned himself in. And I planned to make sure he turned himself in.

  After a clatter of hugs and exclamations, Turner set a large pot of something to warm on the stove while Mona fixed her husband a cup of chai. When she invited me to eat with them I regretfully declined, since I was due for supper with Abe. The food smelled like a South Asian heaven.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m meeting someone for dinner.” I sniffed. “What’s the dish?”

  “Curried chickpeas and eggplant with rice,” Turner said, then added the name in Hindi. “I made it myself.” He smiled proudly.

  “I’m afraid I have to be home in”—I glanced at the wall clock. Yikes—“in twenty minutes. Let me just tell my friend I’ll be a little late.”

  Mona held her husband’s hand. Sujita, a female copy of Turner except shorter and with lighter skin, thumbed the phone in her lap. Turner stirred the pot as I texted Abe.

  I needed to leave, but first I wanted to clear something up. “Mona, you said you’d already checked the shed, but your husband was there. Dr. Rao, were you hiding somewhere else yesterday?”

  He looked bewildered. “No. I went straight there yesterday morning.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Mona directed her words at me, not at Sajit.

  “No. I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

  She lifted her chin. “I went out there and called to him. He didn’t answer.” She didn’t meet my gaze.

  Turner shot me a look along the lines of “She’s my mom, what can I say?”

  I cleared my throat. “Dr. Rao, you are going to need to contact Detective Thompson and tell him what happened. What you saw. Why you took off. It’s important.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “What did happen, Sajit?” Mona stood suddenly, with a set mouth and fiery eyes.

  Whoa. I sat back at the sudden whoosh of anger.

  “I’d like to know.” She folded her arms. “We’d all like to know. We’ve been dying of worry for thirty-six hours. None of us has slept. We thought you were dead. You can’t just waltz out of our lives like you did.”

  He lifted his head and squared his shoulders. “I know, sanam. I am very sorry for the pain I caused you, all of you. I was afraid and I acted cowardly.” He gazed at each of them in turn. “I will tell you the story in its entirety, as I told Ms. Jordan after she found me. But we do not need to detain her any longer.” He looked at me. “Thank you for your courage in venturing into the woods. Thank you for convincing me to return. I am not sure how I will adequately repay you, but rest assured I will. And I promise to call the authorities before the evening is over, after I secure legal representation.”

  Mona’s anger now turned to alarm. “Secure what? But you didn’t do anything wrong except abandon us. Did you?”

  Sujita looked up with a similar expression, while Turner frowned.

  “He’ll tell you all about it.” I stood. “And I agree. I believe a lawyer might be a good idea.”

  He stood, as well, extending his hand to me.

  I
shook it. “I’m glad I could help.” I turned to Turner. “See you Wednesday, I hope?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry for stranding you. Did you find someone to help you?”

  “I managed. Don’t worry about it.”

  As I drove home, I knew we all still had plenty to worry about. Had Sajit been telling the truth? If not, the family wasn’t out of the woods yet, so to speak, and might never be. And if he was, who killed Warren Connolly?

  Chapter 19

  By coincidence, Abe had brought a curried lamb dish for dinner. We sat bathed in candlelight at my kitchen table at nine-thirty, sated with aromatic food, a delicious Vouvray, and each other. The last was more figurative than actual, since I’d been too tired and feeling too grungy after I arrived to do anything but change into yoga pants and a creamy yellow fleece, wash up, and collapse into a chair. Sated with good conversation and a handsome face was going to have to do for now. I’d briefly filled Abe in on finding Sajit, but then we vowed to avoid talk of murder during dinner.

  Now that we were finished eating I couldn’t help myself. “What I don’t get is, if Sajit thought he’d killed Connolly, why he didn’t just grab his passport and run? You know? Ditch his car in Indy or Kentucky or even Chicago, and hop a plane or something. Why hide out on his own property?” I drained my last sip and set the glass down.

  Abe narrowed his eyes like his brain was working overtime. “Interesting question. You say his wife and Turner poo-pooed the idea of searching the shed?”

  “Yes. Mona said it was a wreck or something, which it was. She also said he’d never go there. Anyway, she claimed she’d checked, but I don’t think she really had. Turner reacted like he didn’t believe she’d gone out to the shed, either.”

  Abe nodded. “I don’t know Dr. Rao at all. But I’d seen him a few times before the breakfast competition. He always seemed very straight. Neatly dressed, good posture, behaving according to norms. That kind of thing.”