Book Six of the Family History Mystery Series

By Elaine L. Orr

I'm anxious to write this book, which I'm tentavely calling Intricate Family Complications, but need to finish the second Bay View Harbor book first. As a treat to myself, I wrote the first chapter. Feel free to send comments to elaineorr55@yahoo.com.

CHAPTER ONE

 Intricate Family Complications

The woman with gleaming white hair wore a burgundy coat and sat quietly in her booth in the Maple Grove Diner as she stared steadfastly at a paperback book propped against the sugar canister. Digger studied her from over the top of the menu she held from her seat a booth over one and down one.

It wasn’t simply that the woman was a stranger to Maple Grove. Her hunched shoulders made Digger think she wanted to be invisible. As people came in, she would glance at the door and then quickly go back to her book.

Marty gently kicked Digger’s booted foot under the table. “What’s so fascinating?”

“I feel as if a woman seated a couple of booths behind you has an important secret.”

Uncle Benjamin turned from where he sat at the counter. He floated off his seat and stood behind the woman.

To Marty, Digger said, “Uncle Benjamin is on it.”

“I can’t tell you how much joy that brings me.”

Digger took her eyes from Uncle Benjamin, met Marty’s, and grinned. “You never know, it could be part of the story of a lifetime.”

“You’re assuming the Maple Grove News would recognize it.”

“Oops. He’s coming here.”

Marty drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a second. “So much for letting us eat in private.”

Uncle Benjamin floated lightly over the top of the booth and sat next to Digger. “The book she’s reading is upside down.”

Diggers eyebrows shot up. “He says the book she’s reading is upside down.”

Marty nodded lightly toward where he assumed Benjamin would be, next to Digger. “Maybe she’s dyslexic.”

“Tell him I thought you wanted to know something or I would have stayed at the counter,” Uncle Benjamin huffed.

“He knows that,” Digger said.

The food server brought Digger’s BLT and Marty’s corned beef sandwich. Benjamin leaned across the table and smelled the corned beef.

“That’s rude,” Digger said.

“Is he smelling my food or yours?” Marty asked.

“Mine,” Digger said.

“Liar. I still can’t smell anything!” Uncle Benjamin said.

Marty shook his head and picked up the sandwich, which dripped bits of sauerkraut as he took a bite.

The door to the diner opened. Sheriff Richard Montgomery entered and his eyes roamed the eatery. Apparently the woman in burgundy was his target because he ambled to her booth and spoke to her. She put the book down, nodded, and gestured that he should sit across from her.

Digger picked up her BLT but before she took a bite she nodded her head in the direction of the woman. “Sheriff Montgomery came in to talk to her.”

That got Marty’s attention but he didn’t turn around. “Do you know her?”

“I don’t,” Uncle Benjamin said, “so Digger probably doesn’t.”

“I know a lot of people you don’t know.”

“Does it look like something I should find out more about?” Marty asked.

“Can’t tell.”

The sheriff and the woman leaned across the table, foreheads not touching but close.

“Looks like a pretty private conversation between her and the sherif,” Digger said.

Uncle Benjamin floated across the diner tabletop.

“Don’t do that!”

He kept going.

A familiar voice from behind Digger asked, “What isn’t Marty supposed to do?” Holly, Digger’s partner in their graphic arts business, came into view. “Scoot over, Digger.”

Marty grinned at Holly. “She has a long list but I ignore most of it.”

Still keeping an eye on Uncle Benjamin’s see-through back, Digger chided herself. She knew better than to say much to Uncle Benjamin when in public. Marty might not be able to see him but at least he knew Digger wasn’t talking to herself if she spoke to Uncle Benjamin. Other people sometimes thought she had an imaginary friend.

Digger turned to Holly. “I didn’t know you were going out to lunch today. We’ll be done pretty soon and I can get back to the office.”

“I put a sign on the door,” Holly said. “Mrs. MacArthur called. You know her, right? She volunteers at the Historical Society sometimes but not too often.”

“I don’t know her well. She comes in occasionally to clip recent obituaries from the paper and put them in the file for those.”

“Anyone you especially want to see in the files, Holly?” Marty asked.

“You know what my answer would be.”

Marty chuckled. Digger half-smiled but glanced at the woman in the burgundy coat. “Has your grandmother done anything especially annoying today?”

“I’m sure she has but I haven’t heard about it yet,” Holly said. “Anyway, Mrs. MacArthur wants you to call her. She said it’s about researching someone who was adopted long ago.”

Digger turned her head slightly so she could look at Holly. “Did she say who?”

“She’ll only talk to you about it.”

Marty finished half of his sandwich and began to wrap the second half in a napkin. “Maybe it’s someone important and she wants to protect identities.”

Just then Sheriff Montgomery stood. Judging from his frown and curt nod to the woman at the nearby booth, something in the conversation hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to. His eyes met Digger’s and his eyebrows went up. He shook his head slightly and turned to leave.

Holly had followed Digger’s gaze. “The sheriff doesn’t usually come in here.”

“I think he knew the woman he was sitting with,” Digger said. “He walked right to her when he came in a few minutes ago.”

“Digger is trying to figure out if the person he was talking to is some sort of spy,” Marty said.

“She doesn’t look that interesting,” Digger said.

The woman got up from her table and went to the cash register at the far side of the dining counter, obviously getting ready to leave.

Uncle Benjamin returned to their booth, slid across it, and settled next to Marty, who was never happy to have him that close. Not that he could tell. Marty didn’t mind that Digger had a ghost for an uncle, and Benjamin’s done enough to indirectly prove his presence. Marty has even asked him to help with research sometimes, since Uncle Benjamin can dive into a tome and read it quickly.

“I’ll call Mrs. MacArthur as soon as I get back to the office,” Digger said.

Holly slid out of the booth. “I’ll head there, then. Just wanted to make sure you were coming directly back and not heading off somewhere. I’ll go to lunch when you return.”

“As her Uncle Benjamin would have advised, don’t take any wooden nickels,” Marty said.

From his seat at the counter, Uncle Benjamin yelled. “That’s a cliché. I never would have said that!” He glided toward Digger again.

Marty nodded at Digger’s BLT. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

She took out a piece of bacon, took a huge bite, and wrapped the full sandwich in a napkin to take with her. “I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”

“Don’t brag,” Uncle Benjamin said. “I can’t wait to hear what Mrs. MacArthur wants. I’ll tell you about the lady at that booth when we’re by ourselves.”

To Marty, Digger said, “The woman I was looking at is about to walk out the door. She won’t notice if you turn around to see who she is.”

Marty half turned. “She’s what, about seventy? I don’t recognize her, but since I didn’t grow up here, you know I don’t recognize a lot of people.”

“That’ll be a convenient line when you get dementia,” Uncle Benjamin said.

Marty continued, “If you’re going back to your office, I’ll head to the paper.”

“Uncle Benjamin says I need to hear what he eavesdropped on.”

“I may have to help my grandparents figure out why their sink is leaking this evening. But I’ll text you if you want to do something later.”

“Sounds good.”

He slid out of the booth and started for the cash register. Digger loved what an easy relationship they had, but she liked that they didn’t live together. She wasn’t sure how she would manage Uncle Benjamin if she had to constantly tell him to pipe down.

As ghosts go, he was pretty considerate. But he was also lonely, since Digger was the only one who could talk to him. Now that his son, Franklin, knew his father had returned – sort of – if he was at the Ancestral Sanctuary for the weekend, he would talk to Uncle Benjamin. He couldn’t answer, but loved his son’s company.

Digger paid and tightened her scarf as she and Uncle Benjamin stepped into the cold air of the Western Maryland mountains. She pulled her scarf above her nose so that she could talk to him without seeming to be talking to herself.

“You’ll love this. She says she’s Arnold Fairweather’s biological grandmother. He was adopted twenty-five years ago and he may not know that Stuart and Dorothy Fairweather aren’t his biological parents. This woman’s here because Arnold’s birth mother was just murdered in DC and she’s afraid the person who did it will come after Arnold.