Chapter 3
Glancing at Michael, Sam asked, "Mike, how are we going to play this? I'd love to do a Chuck Finley, but there are probably too many people who will recognize me as Sam Axe."
"No, we can't use Finley on this one," Michael agreed. "What we should do is find a place to stay outside of town, at least for Fi and me. That way we won't ruin a cover we might decide to use later. We'll look around town, give people the impression we're there to buy property. Then we can get a better handle on how MiFarm is tightening the screws on people."
"Fight fire with fire and pretend to buy the farm out from under them?"
"Not quite. Hopefully we can find out something incriminating and threaten to expose them if they continue to harass the farmers who don't want to sell."
"I never liked that one, because the minute we're gone, they'll be right back at it." Sam shook his head. "Then it might get worse."
"Not by the time we're done with them." Michael gave him a devilish grin.
"I'd feel a lot better if we stuck together. We can still find out plenty on these guys by checking out things in the middle of town. Trust me, I know this place. People will talk if they're unhappy and they have a listening ear."
He found his exit and got off the freeway. Sam drove north west, under the freeway, and a mile ahead the road ran straight through a small downtown. It was full of quaint little shops, a grocery store and a few fast food places along with home style diners. It was quite lively with the lunch time crowd. Now and then someone would stare at the Cadillac with Florida plates, but most people just ignored the vehicle. Most of the vehicles that were parked on the street were trucks, SUVs, or older, practical cars, with a couple of muscle cars thrown in.
"Welcome to downtown Grunewald," Sam announced with little fanfare. "Should we stop for lunch?"
"I'd like to get to the farm first," Michael answered.
Sam knew his friend. He was eager to get information and start working the case. "You got it."
A sign stretched over the street announcing a fall harvest fair coming that weekend. Smiling pumpkins danced with scarecrows to decorate the banner.
"I think we need to stick around for the festival this weekend," Fiona said. "Maybe by then people will have warmed up to us and we can get a lot of intel under the disguise of mingling."
Michael agreed. "Good idea, Fi. I doubt we'll get this wrapped up in three days."
After passing through the town, Sam took a left and drove alongside a muddy river, over a bridge, and around a curve. A railroad crossing came up suddenly with no signal lights, just a set of old weather-beaten white signs. The letters identifying it as a railroad crossing were almost obliterated by time and the elements. Sam stopped. He looked both ways, looked again, and crossed.
He noticed Michael watching. "A freight train going full speed through here is easy to miss with just one sweep. One of my best friends from high school was killed at that crossing."
"I'm sorry, Sam." Michael's voice was soft and reverent as if they'd just passed over holy ground.
"Yeah, that place has always haunted me every time I come back. It's been so long, I almost forgot about it." A train horn blared as Sam navigated another curve and the road ran parallel to the tracks. Within seconds a locomotive rumbled through the intersection, gained on them, and the lone line of cars passed at a great speed. "See what I mean?"
"They shouldn't be allowed to go that fast," Fiona said. "It's too dangerous."
"Well, if after defeating MiFarm you feel like taking on the railroad companies, you go right ahead, Fi." Sam slowed as he neared a driveway. To the right side of it stood a mailbox and a bright blue metal plate with white numbers showing the farm's address. "This is it, the Fraser farm."
"Fraser?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow.
"My mother's maiden name was Fraser. This is my mom's brother's place. It's been in the family for generations, ever since the first Frasers settled in the area." He drove up the gravel lane to the barnyard where a small parking area had been created. "I don't see anybody around, but that doesn't mean much if everybody's out working. Might as well get out and stretch your legs, and we'll go to the house first."
Sam exited the car and Michael and Fiona followed. The car doors slamming echoed off the two barns set into an L-shape in the yard to block the north and west winds. To the south, the field was full of cows, all white with black spots, and some brown. A lot of little ones wandered around looking for their mothers and bleating. The sight caught Fiona's attention. She watched them with a wistful smile on her face.
"Hey Fi, come on," Michael said. "We're going to the house with Sam."
"Huh? Oh, coming!" She turned and took a step, just barely missing a dark brown pile. She jumped away as if it tried to bite her. "Oh my god, Sam!"
"What?" He whirled, concerned by her exclamation. He looked where she stared, and a chuckle came up from deep inside. "Oh yeah, I forgot to warn you to keep your eyes on the ground. Lots of surprises around here." His chuckle turned into a laugh when she gave him a disgusted look and tip toed around the pile. Her eyes stayed down all the way across the yard. "You don't have to worry once you get past the laundry lines. The cows aren't allowed this close to the house."
"Do they know that?"
"We have these things called fences, and when they aren't behind one, Matthew herds them out to the fenced areas. Sometimes they leave a little something behind." He answered her questions with amusement. "You have absolutely no farm experience, do you, Fi?"
"In Ireland, things were a little different," she answered and looked away, pretending to analyze the lush gentle hills. "Michael doesn't know anything about a farm. Do you, Michael?" She turned back and set her eyes on him.
"Uh, well, I was holed up on one in Eastern Europe once," he stammered. "But that's about it. I slept in the barn with a cow or two."
Sam gave Michael a look. "Mike, the women aren't that ugly in Eastern Europe. I know!"
Michael's glare made Sam laugh again. It was either that or let the tension get to him and make him close-mouthed again. He turned from his friends and stepped up to the back door, rapped his knuckles against the wood, and waited. There was no answer. He tried again. "Nobody's here. Hmm, Elise is usually in the house."
Michael turned around on the porch and surveyed the yard. "There aren't any vehicles. Like the place has been deserted except for the animals."
"That's not right. I don't like this." Sam reached up for the door frame and searched with his fingers. "I wish I could remember where they kept the key." He snapped his fingers. "Wait." A milk can stood on the corner of the porch. Years ago it had been turned into an ash tray, but someone turned the top around again and covered it. Sam lifted off the cover and looked inside, reached down to the bottom and picked up the key. "This should be it." He smiled and turned back to the door.
The key fit perfectly and Sam unlocked the door, opened it wide, and let them inside before going behind them. He dropped the key into his pants pocket and made a note to have another made in town at the hardware store, once he knew what was going on with his aunt and uncle and cousin.
"No notes left anywhere. Your cousin knew you were coming, didn't she," Fiona asked as she looked around the kitchen. It looked like it belonged in a museum, from the scuffed oak table with six chairs, an old gas stove and refrigerator, down to the large sink. The white enamel cracked and chipped off in some areas, exposing the iron underneath. The faucet with double handles dripped. At least the kitchen was kept in a neat and orderly fashion. A clock ticked in another room and chimed ten o'clock.
"Sam, I think this fridge is older than mine," Michael remarked as he studied it.
"I think you're right. It's pretty safe to say that nothing in this house is energy efficient." Sam walked through a doorway that led to the dining room. The two followed him and discovered another room that had frozen in time somewhere in the 1930s or 40s. Only the living room had more modern furnishings. A large picture window gave them a panorama view of the road.
"Hello?" Sam called up the stairs. "Aunt Betty? Uncle Nick?" Silence. "Elise?" Still no answer. Sam shook his head. "I am so not liking this, Mike." He pulled out a handgun from his pocket and took off the safety.
"I'll cover you when you get up there. Fi, watch from down here," Michael ordered her. She nodded and took up a defensive position with her gun in front of her.
Sam and Michael went up and swept each room before returning downstairs. "There's nobody here, on a weekday afternoon. Something's wrong." He headed for the back door muttering a name. "Matthew."
Michael and Fiona followed, not sure who he was talking about. They recalled the name from the letter and both assumed he must be a farmhand. Sam hurried to the larger of the two barns and walked through a door on one end, moved quickly past the empty pens inside, and emerged on the west end. The door to the other barn was to the left, and the three went through it without finding anyone. Sam stood outside the second barn, hands on hips, scanning the fields for any sign of another human. A line of short evergreens served as a boundary on the south end of the property.
"Come on, get back in the car. I have to lock up the house." He secured the door and trotted to the Cadillac. He pulled out of the space and raced down the lane to the road.
"Where are we going, Sam?" Michael asked as Sam looked left before turning right onto the road.
"The neighbor's house. It's down south just a half mile or so."
The neighbors' property was also devoid of any residents. "Is there a town meeting or something going on today that we're not running into anyone," Michael asked as he looked around the yard. Gravel crunched, and he smiled. "We're in luck. Someone's here."
A black SUV with a logo on the door stopped, blocking Sam's Cadillac in the driveway. An older man got out and was talking on a radio. He brought it down to a clip on his waist and raised a shotgun up to level at them.
"Who are you people? What are you doing here?"
It didn't escape Michael's attention that the logo on the SUV was that of MiFarm Corporation. He took a step forward and put his hands up when the shotgun barrel wound up inches from his chest. "Hi, we're just looking for some people. We thought they'd be here."
"What happened to the Schroeders?"
The man glanced at Sam. "The Schroeders haven't lived here in, oh, five years. This is MiFarm land, mister." All the while he spoke, he kept his eyes on Sam. A light flickered in his eyes and the shotgun began to lower. "Hey, I know you."
"You do," Sam asked. He sure didn't remember this guy, not at first, but the longer he studied him he looked increasingly familiar.
"Yeah, you're that boy, Sam Axe, who lived at the Frasers' with his momma. Yeah." He nodded and a grin crossed his face. "Been a long time, son."
"Yes, sir, it has. It's been so long, I'm afraid I don't remember you. I'm sorry."
"Albert Koenig."
"Oh yes, Mr. Koenig, you had all those geraniums lined up along the sidewalk in front of your house in town." Sam smiled.
"Yep, still do when the weather's more agreeable." He smiled and showed off a set of yellowed teeth. "So, what on earth are you doing back here? I thought you went and joined the Navy. Got tired of seeing the world?" Mr. Koenig laughed.
Sam gave him a reserved smile. "No. Elise sent me a letter, and I decided I'd come back and visit my family and friends. Mr. Koenig, this is my best friend Michael Westen and his fiancee Fiona Glenanne. Mike and Fi, Mr. Koenig. He was the biology teacher at the high school when I did my time there."
"Pleased to meet you. But now I have to ask you to leave the property. This is all owned by MiFarm now."
"And my aunt and uncle's place?"
"No, they're one of the last holdouts around here. MiFarm's board has been trying everything to get them to sell." He paused and stared north across the open yard to the old Victorian farmhouse. "Maybe after this, they'll change their minds."
"After this? Mr. Koenig, what happened?" Sam stepped closer to him.
The older man turned to Sam and replied, "Your Uncle Nick had a spell. Don't know if it was a stroke or a heart attack or what, but he's been in the hospital the last couple days."
"That must have been right after Elise sent me that letter," Sam said to his companions. "What hospital is he at?"
"They took him into the clinic in Frankenmuth, but I think he might have been moved to Flint or Bay City." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't know."
"We'll start in Frankenmuth and go from there. Thanks, Mr. Koenig."
"Good luck, Sam." He stopped him with a hand on his arm. "And if I were you, I'd talk to your family and have them sell. It's better for everybody." His mouth twitched, and he continued, "Nick isn't young enough or healthy enough to do the work, and Betty isn't much help. Elise can't do it alone."
"Where's Matthew? What about the other hands?"
Mr. Koenig shrugged. "The hands left. MiFarm pays better wages and benefits. Nobody's seen Matty since around the time Nick wound up in the hospital."
Sam's eyes grew wide and he pointed toward the field. His voice rose. "What? Are you telling me that those animals have been sitting out in that field for the past two days and haven't even been milked?"
"Yeah, pretty much." Mr. Koenig smiled sheepishly.
Sam's face set into a scowl, and it was all he could do to keep himself from slapping the smirk off the man's face. He dropped his arm, his hands balled into fists, and Mr. Koenig saw the anger in Sam's expression.
Before he could do something he'd regret, Sam turned and strode toward the car, muttering something under his breath again. Michael and Fiona followed and got in. Sam cranked the car as if he was mad enough to yank out the starter, turned the car around in the yard, and faced the truck. Mr. Koenig stood near the door, slowly putting his shotgun inside. Sam blared the horn at him and rolled down the window.
"Get that piece of crap out of my way right now... sir... or I'll push it for you!"
Mr. Koenig's eyes bugged. He was too scared by the look on Sam's face to test him. He started the truck and pulled out of the driveway as fast as he could. When the truck tires hit the road, Mr. Koenig tore off southward, while Sam headed back to the farm, shaking his head in disbelief.
"This is crazy, Mike. It's like a freakin' nightmare! People around here used to care about other peoples' farms. If someone got sick, the neighbors pitched in. Now it's every man for himself out here, and nobody cares if a hundred cows stand out in the elements and freeze or are in need of milking for two days. It's criminal."
"A hundred cows? Seriously?" Fiona looked between the seats at Sam. "What are we going to do with that many cows?"
"We're going to the farm," Michael answered for Sam as his eyes were locked on his friend. "And we're going to herd up all those cows and get them to the barn to milk. Right, Sam?"
"That's right. I don't expect you two to help with the milking. There are five machines for that, but I'll need somebody to bring 'em in."
Michael volunteered, even though he didn't have the faintest idea of how to herd cows. "I'll do that."
"Good. There's a pen behind the smaller barn. Just get them in there and I'll take them to the milking parlor. Fi, do you know how to hand milk?"
She sputtered. "Are you kidding? I only know how to drink milk from a plastic container from the store!"
"It's okay." He turned in to the driveway, raced to the end, and jammed on the brakes. As he turned off the car, he said, "I'll teach you how to run the machine. It's really easy."
Thinking about her shoes and how they would be ruined mucking around in a barn, she still answered, "Okay." This was Sam's family homestead, and she would be damned if she let a faceless corporation take it over this way.
