Triple Toil and Trouble Read online

  Harvest frowned. “I walk a fine line between helping out and getting in the way.”

  “I don’t think we missed anything, Constable.” He stuck out his hand. “But good luck to you anyway.”

  “Thanks, Chief. Maybe we’ll work together in the future.”

  “Not if it means solving that case.” He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened, I s’pose.”

  Harvest didn’t know if fifty years of investigators had missed anything. But she knew one thing the cops didn’t. Alan McGooby was alive and well and living as a half-goat monster in the woods.

  Chapter 3

  THE GRAMS ASSESSED Echo as she tiptoed out of the changing room. They made thoughtful pouts at the cobalt blue monokini, which was backless and strappy and cut high on the hips. She heard a male voice shout “Yeah!” and a wolf whistle and darted back behind the curtain.

  “That’s the one,” Aunt Mary said.

  “It looks very nice on you, honey. The color brings out your eyes.”

  Mary snorted. “Nobody’s gonna be looking at her eyes if she’s wearing that. That swimsuit’s a man-catcher.”

  “Aunt Mary!” Echo said through her teeth. But maybe she was right.

  Ten minutes later, they all stood at the checkout. “I hate that this mall is dying,” Echo eyed the going-out-of-business signs that hung everywhere in the store. “I didn’t do a lot of hanging out in high school, but when I did, it was mostly here.”

  “Things change. Trust me, once you get to be our age, you’ll understand that.” Gramma pulled out her credit card, but Echo beat her to the cashier.

  “Nope, I have my own money.”

  “You should save it for school.”

  Echo thanked the checkout girl and took her bag. “I have until the end of August to worry about school.”

  “You could treat us to lunch instead, Sis,” Aunt Mary said. “That way, Echo can tell us more about her new sweetie.”

  “He’s not my sweetie.”

  “Until he sees you in that swimsuit.”

  Echo found herself unable to suppress a smile. “Well, he’s tall, and muscle-y, not like bodybuilder muscle, but like a swimmer. His eyes are green and his hair is dark brown. There’s a tiny moon-shaped scar where a chin dimple would be. But there’s something so sad about him. Sometimes, when he doesn’t know I’m looking, I can see it. It’s like a weight crushing him. Oh, I want to make that sad, sad look in his eyes go away...”

  The Grams exchanged a look.

  “Holy crap, she’s got it bad,” Mary said.

  “YOU’VE BEEN A MOODY, broody Judy all day, Quinn. What’s the deal?”

  She looked up to see Rae slide into the seat across her desk.

  “Family crap.”

  “Ah. The worst kind.”

  Quinn sat back, folded her arms. Maybe talking it out would help. “Without getting specific, I got a call from a totally absent father who wants partial custody of his kid.”

  “Totally absent?”

  “For the kid’s entire life.”

  “Oh.” Rae shrugged. “Even douche bags have rights, I guess. Or are you on the father’s side?”

  “I haven’t taken a side. It would be great if these people came together as a family, but that’s certainly not in the cards.” Quinn pressed her lips together, thinking. “I think a child should know her father, needs a father figure. But I don’t think a mother should have to submit her kid to a man she doesn’t like, or hardly even knows anymore. Hell, I don’t even know if the man would be a good father.”

  “You’re just getting dragged in because of where you work? Or are you getting dragged in because you’re related? Either way, you wouldn’t be allowed to get involved, so putting this on you is not a good way to go.” Rae spun back and forth a little in the chair. “What’s your main concern?”

  “Dragging the kid into this. I’m sure it’ll be traumatic, just meeting her father. And then all the family court, the possible fight over custody. I see enough kids go through that meat grinder.”

  Rae shrugged. “Then you’re on the right side—the girl’s side. Stick with that, and you can’t go wrong, girlfriend.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Don’t forget, we’re meeting with the guy from the auditor general’s office tomorrow morning.”

  “You think Danielle snuck some extra interns into the budget?”

  “Ha!” Rae got up. “We’ll be lucky to get a cost of living raise. Keep the faith, baby.”

  “Thanks for listening.”

  “Any time.”

  Quinn wished it was as easy as taking Zuri’s side in the matter. But Uncle Nick was certain that two more girls would be born in just over a year. Time in the Twih didn’t move right. Nick could be informed by future events. Either that, or he was so full of himself that he was confident Cora would get back together with him. Or, given that her triplet sisters were born years after she was, maybe Cora had been pregnant for eleven years. But she’d notice, wouldn’t she? The whole thing was giving Quinn a headache.

  THE LIGHT HOUSE INN was the closest sit-down joint to the State Police Barracks in Lawrence Park. Harvest bought lunch for Sgt. Jeff Shafer.

  “Well, on your advice, I applied for the DA’s investigator position.”

  He edged back as the waitress put his sandwich down. “How’s that going?”

  “He gave me a fifty-year-old cold case.” Harvest thanked the server.

  “Ah.” Shafer bit into his monte cristo; chewed. “The grandfather.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it? Every law enforcement agency has taken at least one crack at it. Even the FBI.”

  “Oh, right. The suspected kidnapping theory. That Mudge is a freakin bulldog.” Jeff polished off the sandwich with startling rapidity. “I’ve read the file. A lot of information accumulated over the years, none of it particularly relevant. I think every investigator came to the same conclusion: that Alan McGooby abandoned his family, either by choice or by accident. There’s no indication of foul play, no suicide note, no ransom note, and the interviews with his wife... Well, I’ll let you come to your own conclusions.”

  “I just don’t see how my conclusions would be any different.” Harvest picked at her pasta.

  “Mudge probably just wants to see how you work. When I looked at it a few years back, the investigation seemed fairly exhaustive. That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss something, or the local cops, or the FBI.” He signaled the waitress for more coffee. “In the time I’ve known you, you’ve proven perceptive, intuitive, and you’ve brought evidence to light that law enforcement never did. As irritating as that has been at times, it probably means you’re a natural investigator. Give it a shot. Read the file—read everything in the file—and look for an uncovered angle.”

  Harvest had the uncovered angle. It involved Alan McGooby transforming into a goat-monster. It wasn’t the kind of thing that you brought to trial. And District Attorney Alfred Mudge was all about bringing cases to trial.

  “You want the job, right? No more out-of-pocket equipment expenses, no election fundraisers.”

  Harvest had only run for the office one time. “I’d rather had a job that didn’t rely on the popular vote. Especially when the thing I do most is serve people for overdue garbage payments. Not sure why that pushes peoples’ buttons.”

  “You have police training. What you lack is experience. Everybody starts somewhere. You’re starting with a really cold cold case. All you can do is show Mudge your stuff, Hutchinson.”

  The pasta had turned flavorless in her mouth. Harvest pushed her plate away. “Any idea where I should start?”

  “If it were me, I’d read every scrap of paper in the files. Then, the first person I would focus on would be the wife. Kind of a cliché, I know. Sometimes you go with the percentages.” He drained his coffee cup. “Thanks for lunch. I have a mess of a meth bust to dig through.”

  “Trade you,” Harvest said.

  “Not on your
life.”

  Chapter 4

  “WOW, WHAT A BUNCH OF sad sacks.” Aunt Mary had roasted an extra chicken the night before for chicken salad. Heat of the day lingered in the kitchen, making cold sandwiches ideal. There were honey pan rolls and homemade cabbage salad, but none of the triplets filled their plates.

  Gramma Em dug in. “Rough day, girls?”

  Echo sighed. “I did some cyber stalking. The reason Ryker’s so sad is that his brother drowned in the reservoir last fall. They never recovered his body. That’s why he's so obsessed with paramedic training, with joining the fire department—especially the dive team.”

  “That is terribly sad,” Harvest said.

  “Worse, I’m like the only one in the scuba class who didn’t know. I’ve been all flirty with him. Now, I feel like a total doof.” Echo tossed her hands in the air. “I was in Fredonia last fall.”

  “You think you have trouble. Uncle Nick cornered me in my office. Guess what he wants?” Quinn asked and answered her own question. “Partial custody of Zuri. And he wants me to help him. I hardly know him! It’s like a space alien is seeking custody.”

  “Why would he want custody? Would he take Zuri into the Twih?” Echo had a solid relationship with eleven-year-old Zuri Anderson. They played a lot together despite the difference in their ages. Echo thought of Zuri as a younger sister.

  “It gets weirder. Nick says Cora is giving birth to twins more than a year from now—and Zuri will be their identical triplet.”

  “Wow. Talk about confidence,” Aunt Mary sat down with her plate. “But that Nick is one sexy bastard.”

  “Mary!” Gramma’s jaw dropped.

  Mary shrugged. “I speak the truth.”

  Gramma shook her head. Her eyes landed on Harvest. “What about you, honey? Didn’t get that job you applied for?”

  “Worse than that. The DA gave me a test case to investigate.”

  Echo finally broke through the sadness barrier and built herself a sandwich. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “It’s a cold case from 1965.”

  “Oh.” Echo bit into the sandwich to keep her foot out of her mouth.

  “Alfred Mudge’s grandfather disappeared back then.” Harvest frowned. “He wants me to find him, even though the Warren PD, the state police, and even the FBI tried.”

  “That’s hardly fair. How are you supposed to find grandpa without any resources?” Quinn started making a sandwich.

  Echo grabbed a roll. “She’s got that intuition going for her.”

  “Oh, I know where grandpa is. That’s what makes it worse.”

  “How does that make it worse?” Aunt Mary made a second sandwich and cut it in half.

  Harvest sighed. “Grandpa’s name was, is, Alan McGooby.”

  “The DA’s grandfather is Leshy the goat-monster?” The roll stopped halfway to Echo’s mouth.

  Aunt Mary put the other half of the sandwich on Harvest’s plate. “Well, you’re already doing better than the local cops, the state cops, and the feds.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess, but how am I going to tell the DA?”

  “Maybe we should go ask the victim.” Echo put the roll in her mouth.

  NONE OF THEM REALLY wanted to meet with a half-goat person in the darkening woods. Echo led the way. “There’s been a bunch of bigfoot sightings near the old Fishburn Road.”

  Scaring the crap out of teenagers was most of Leshy’s raison d’etre. That, and hoping to hook up with anything in a skirt. Quinn edged the strap of a backpack higher on her shoulder.

  Fishburn Road was scattered chunks of blacktop and concrete that once ran from the Fishburn Run Bridge down into the valley. Now, the buried road abruptly ended at the edge of the Kinzua Reservoir. The former town lay deep beneath the surface. When the water was clear, you could see where the old road crossed a submerged set of rails. Half a century before, South Fishburn was considered the wrong side of the tracks. Now, it was the only side.

  Quinn looked back the way they’d come. The tiny hamlet, though up on the ridge, was invisible through the dense foliage. Echo kept walking, until her sneakers crunched on a broken bottle. The detritus of secret teenage habitation accumulated as they walked along the bank. A firepit surrounded by rocks and fallen logs nestled near two standing walls of a shack.

  Birdsong went silent, the only sound the susurrus of wind through the leaves and the lap of water. The setting sun cast long, wavery shadows. Deep red suffused the depths of the reservoir. After a few moments, even the crickets and frogs went dumb.

  “Okay, this seems creepy enough.” Harvest sat on one of the logs.

  Quinn nodded. “Wait for it...”

  A growl issued from the woods, a sub-basso warning that a large animal was near. Echo rolled her eyes and sat on a rock. As expected, a beast with glowing blue eyes and a rack of horns like a big-horned sheep crashed through the trees at them. The great woolly monster raised an ancient battle axe overhead and bared incongruous fangs in a goaty face. As the eyes took each of them in, he lowered the axe to the soil and leaned on the blades.

  “Hey, baes, long time no see. Finally coming around, huh? Party with the ultimate party monster.” He moved his hips awkwardly, making musical grunts. “Urrr-yeah, I’m just a love machine!”

  “Stop it.” Quinn tossed the backpack at him.

  Leshy dropped the axe to catch the pack. “Presents?” He pawed through it with his claws. “Scissors, soap, a razor... and an awesome suit! Wait. What do you want?”

  “We need to talk to Alan McGooby,” Quinn said.

  Leshy held up his hands. “Wait, wait, don’t McGooby me, okay? It’s still gets really cold at night. I can’t do naked.”

  Quinn folded her arms. “Well, you can McGooby yourself tomorrow before we meet. Cut the hair, the beard, and wash the goat off of you.”

  “Oh, is this like a date?”

  “No,” the three sisters chorused.

  “No place that serves lamb,” he held up a warning finger.

  “Just meet us at the PDF at noon, looking as human and normal as you can.”

  “A date with three hotties. Rowr!”

  Echo’s shoulders fell, as only a teenager’s could. “It’s just ice cream. Get over yourself.”

  LIGHT RAIN FELL FROM an overcast sky, keeping most of the PDF customers away. The three of them sat at a picnic table beneath an awning. Echo checked the time on her phone. “He’s late.”

  As if summoned, a man strode from the woods across the street. He was tall and dressed in a burgundy houndstooth suit that rode high at ankles and wrists.

  “OMG, you gave him Dad’s horrible suit?” Harvest shuddered. “I made him throw it away.”

  “Pretty snazzy, huh?” Alan McGooby walked to the table, doing a little dance that made him look like he was rolling a wheel chair.

  The last time Harvest had seen the human that Leshy once was, he looked the part of a wild hermit, with long, lank hair and a beard that seemed to explode from his lower face. Now, clean shaven, hair cut (though awkwardly), and not naked, she thought he actually looked pretty handsome.

  “Snazzy is the word,” Echo said. “Also, nifty and probably neat-o.”

  “Could’ve used a hat. Do you know how hard it is to cut your own hair with only a puddle of water for a mirror?” McGooby looked at each of them in turn with his glowing eyes. “Nah, you probably don’t.”

  “Let me get you some ice cream. What flavor do you want?” Echo stood up.

  “Um, roadkill venison? Acorn? Clover and moss?”

  “How about chocolate?”

  “Oo. Exotic. Thanks, bae.”

  “Nobody says bae anymore,” Echo said, not turning.

  “Damn. Just when you think you’re catching on.”

  Harvest scowled. She wished she could just drag McGooby to DA Mudge’s office. Except the man appeared to be in his early thirties. According to the case files, McGooby would be approaching ninety. “We have some questions for you.”

&n
bsp; “The answer is yes, I’m single and fully available. Keep in mind, I mostly work nights.” McGooby put his hand over Harvest’s on the table. He batted his lashes at her.

  Harvest slid her hand free. “You, the Alan McGooby you, disappeared in 1965. What happened to you?”

  His brow furrowed. “Who wants to know?”

  “Your grandson, Alfred Mudge.”

  McGooby rolled his glowing eyes. “That dweeb?”

  Echo returned with four cones in a cardboard carrier and passed them out. The Pennsylvania Dairy Farmers’ Co-op mostly dealt with the sale of milk to distributors. Ice cream was just a side business in the summer. PDF ice cream was fresh, some churned the same day you ate it. McGooby took a huge bite and moaned. “I haven’t had ice cream since 1964.”

  “Shh!” Echo chided him, glancing around.

  “Truth is, I don’t know what happened to me. Everything is kind of a blur. You know how time gets slushy sometimes?” He eyed the three women over his cone. “Nah, you probably don’t.”

  Chapter 5

  “I’M A NEURO-PSYCHOLOGIST. I had a federal grant to test a less damaging form of shock treatment for the treatment of paranoia. I’m keeping to layman’s terms. It involved directing electromagnetic fields of specific frequencies into a patient’s brain instead of running a huge current through the whole body and frying synapses. There was a lot of push-back from the shock treatment guys. I think mostly because they were sadists.”

  Echo tried to fit the goat-man into the medical field and found she couldn’t.

  “For the right patient, this procedure worked really well. Using the pulse emitter, along with standard Freudian therapies, although a lot more Jungian aspects crept in over time, eased patient delusion, often to the point of allowing them to live normal lives. My biggest failing, however, was in diagnostic individuation, which I focused on even though the truth of my discoveries was obviously not on a single patient locus, but aspects that proved universal.”