Page 54 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

“Nope.” His voice was firm. “You’re not crazy. So where does that leave our investigation?” He pointed at the sketch again. “You saw three puffs of smoke in a farmhouse with a fireplace that hasn’t been used in a while. Where else could the smoke have come from?”

She raised and lowered her shoulders. “A bonfire out back?”

He shook his head. “There was no evidence of a bonfire mentioned in the police report. Plus, you drew the smoke coming out of the chimney, and you happen to have an eye for detail like I’ve never seen before. What other explanation could there be?”

“I don’t know, professor.” She made a humming sound of speculation. “Some houses have double-sided fireplaces. You know…when one side of the fireplace opens to one room, and the other side of the fireplace opens to an adjoining room.”

“Do you remember seeing a double-sided fireplace at Farmer Monty’s house?”

“No.” She sounded glum. “I was just brainstorming.”

Strike two.“Keep brainstorming,” he urged.

She tapped the sketch. “Is it possible that a fireplace on a lower level might share the same chimney as the one in the living room?”

“Theoretically, it’s possible.” It was an interesting possibility. “Does Farmer Monty’s house have a basement?” He doubted it, since it hadn’t been mentioned in the police report.

“No.” She shook her head. “It has a storm cellar, though. It’s where he kept his homemade pickle canisters while they were pickling. The big carnival-sized ones. He served them on sticks at the snack shack.” Nostalgia crept into her voice. “Every kid in this town probably sampled them at one time or another.”

He nodded slowly. “Funny. No one mentioned searching a storm cellar yesterday.”

“Maybe they didn’t know about it?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “There’s a trapdoor to it in the living room.” Her voice gathered energy. “Under the area rug.”

As far as he was concerned, it was worth mentioning to the sheriff. “Is there a wood stove or fireplace in the cellar?”

“Honestly?” She sounded perplexed. “I don’t remember. It was pretty piled up down there with shelving, crates, urns, gallons of water, and…” She stopped and sucked in a breath. “Oh, my goodness, Rock! There was a pile of firewood in the corner.”

Rock reached for his cell phone and stepped away from her while he dialed Luke Hawling. He moved to stand behind his desk while it rang.

The sheriff picked up, sounding distracted. “Kind of busy here, Rock.” There were voices in the background and the muted sound of weeping.

Rock’s heart pounded at the realization he was interrupting the arrest of Mila’s mother. “I’ll make it quick. My partner drew three puffs of smoke coming out of MontyChester’s chimney roughly an hour before her interview at Lonestar Security.”

“And your point is?” Luke sounded impatient.

“Three puffs of smoke,” Rock repeated. “The universal signal of distress. About a week and a half ago.”

“Monty Chester’s farmhouse was a dead end,” the sheriff informed him flatly. “It was buried in dust and cobwebs. No sign of anything being used in the kitchen, living room, bathrooms, or bedrooms. There were no dishes in the sink, no ashes in the fireplace. The only sign of life was a spider, and he was moving pretty slow.”

Then explain this.“Mila says Farmer Monty kept his homemade pickles in the storm cellar.”

“Nope. We didn’t find a storm cellar.” Luke’s voice sharpened. The background noises grew fainter, as if he’d stepped away from the scene of the arrest.

Rock knew he had the sheriff’s attention now. “She said the trapdoor is beneath an area rug in the living room.”

Luke sounded impatient again as he retorted, “There’s a solid concrete floor in there!”

Rock’s gaze snapped to Mila. “The sheriff says there’s a solid concrete floor in the living room.”

She recoiled in surprise. “No, there isn’t! At least, there wasn’t when Mr. Monty was alive. It was a hardwood floor built on top of a crawl space. There’s a flap under the back porch you can open and look clear across the bottom of the house.” She waved a hand. “Except where the storm cellar is, of course. It’s enclosed in concrete.”

Rock barked into the phone. “My partner says the living room was a hardwood floor over a crawl space when Monty Chester was alive. The only exception is where the storm cellar is located. Trust me, sheriff, she knows what she’s talking about. Not only did she volunteer there for years, hewas like a grandfather to her.” The only reason Rock mentioned that last part was to underscore that she’d been inside his home many times.

Luke was silent for a moment. “I’ll check it out, alright? We’ll bring a jackhammer if we have to.” He grunted. “And since I know you’re wondering, Carla Kingston has been taken into custody, and her attorney isn’t cutting any deals. He insists she’s innocent and that he’ll prove it. Oh, and Chet Kingston is posting her bail. Mila’s mother will be under house arrest, more or less, while awaiting her court date.”

Rock sent up a silent prayer of thanks. It was good to hear that Carla Kingston’s husband was giving her the support she needed right now. Really good. It spoke volumes about her character that wouldn’t be lost on a judge and jury. “Thank you for the update.”

“Felt like I owed you for the tip about the trapdoor.” Luke’s voice held an edge of humor. “I’ll let you know if we find a storm cellar.” He sounded impatient to get going.

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