Chapter 4
“You know Tristan Keller?” Liz asked.
“He’s a real estate investor who was interested in purchasing this farm. I beat him to it.”
She stared at her husband, the pieces of why the pilot was harassing them beginning to fall into place. “A man, a local investor who was interested in our home and farm, is the same one who owns the plane that’s been flying over our house the past few weeks?”
“Correct.” Floyd rubbed the side of his forehead. “My guess is he heard those gas rights are bringing in a tidy sum and he might be a tad ornery about it.”
“A tad ornery?” Liz frowned. “He’s being a jerk. I’m also almost certain he’s been throwing stuff out of his plane.”
“Throwing stuff seems a little heavy-handed, but I suppose people have done worse things for less than that.”
“Either way, I want to put a stop to him flying over our house and harassing us.”
“I agree. Now that I know who it is, I’ll address the situation,” Floyd said.
Later that evening, long after the couple turned in for the night, Liz tossed and turned, mulling over parts of her interview, hoping she didn’t look like an idiot in front of the camera. She also wondered what would happen when her husband called Keller out about his harassing actions.
It had been a long haul for Liz Applegate Rasmussen. She could still remember the day she’d arrived back in West Michigan flat broke, unemployed, depressed and discouraged only to discover her family—and friends—were there ready to help her pick up the pieces and start over.
The journey had been painful and embarrassing. It had also taught Liz a valuable lesson and humbled her in a way she’d never been humbled before.
Her pride had been knocked down a notch or two, but it no longer bothered her. In fact, it made her appreciate all she had, which was a lot. Liz enjoyed life’s finer things, thanks to a husband who doted on and spoiled her.
She snuggled closer to Floyd and drifted off to sleep. Her last thought was to thank God for her many blessings.
*****
Buzzzzz.
Liz’s eyes flew open. A low groan escaped her lips.
Floyd rolled over and glanced at the clock. “Ten past six. He’s getting earlier and earlier.”
“Maybe he knows your schedule, that you’re up by six-thirty and heading over to the farm by seven. He’s trying to be helpful and acting as your alarm clock,” Liz said sarcastically.
“I’ll track Keller down first thing this morning as soon as I get to the farm.” Floyd flung the covers back. He pulled his pants and shirt on and strode out of the bedroom.
Meanwhile, Liz stared at the ceiling, counting the seconds before the plane’s next fly over. It buzzed by again, this time a little louder, and she wondered if he was tossing water balloons at them again.
“Rude,” she muttered under her breath. “I should find out where you live and show up on your doorstep at five tomorrow morning.”
Duchess, who was sleeping in her custom pillow top bed near the window, sleepily climbed to her feet and let out a small yip, her signal she needed to tinkle.
“Let’s go.” Liz shoved her feet in her slippers and turned the bedside lamp on.
Pop. A loud popping sound echoed. Liz darted to the bedroom window and gazed out. The early morning skies were clear and there was no sign of the plane.
She ran downstairs and onto the back porch, her eyes scanning the open fields surrounding their home and barns.
A shadowy figure crested the hill behind the main barn. It was Floyd. She slipped her shoes on and ran out to meet him. “I heard a loud pop.”
“Me too. Sounded like a gunshot,” Floyd said. “Or maybe it was Keller’s plane backfiring.”
Liz rubbed the sides of her arms. “Have you finished feeding the swine?”
“Pepper and Piper?” Floyd chuckled. “Not yet. I was getting ready to head that way when I heard the popping sound. I’ll be back inside in a few.”
“I’ll start a pot of coffee and figure out what we’re having for breakfast.” Liz followed her pup to the kitchen where she promptly filled Duchess’s food and water dishes before rummaging around in the fridge.
Despite her lack of culinary skills, Liz had become proficient at warming breakfast sandwiches. By the time Floyd arrived, she had finished preparing two and proudly set them on the bar.
“Breakfast two days in a row, sugar lips?” Floyd gave her a quick kiss. “Let me guess, you have your eye on a new Louis Vuitton bag.”
“No, but now that you mention it,” Liz joked.
“You buy whatever tickles your fancy.” Floyd slid onto a barstool. “Those are pretty flowers.” He motioned to the bouquet her friends had brought over the previous day.
“Lucy, Dot, Margaret, and Ruth bought them. They thought the flowers would look nice for the show’s taping.”
“They’re pretty. Makes me think I don’t bring you enough flowers.”
“But you give me everything else.” Liz’s eyes softened as she ran a light hand over his cheek. “And more.”
“I love you Liz.”
“I love you too, Floyd.” She slid his breakfast plate across the counter. “I’m getting better at these breakfast sandwiches. I didn’t even scorch the top of the croissants this time.”
“They look mighty tasty.” Floyd cocked his head. “I don’t hear your plane.”
Liz grew quiet and listened. “You’re right. Maybe he ran out of gas.”
“I’ll track Keller down this morning,” Floyd promised. “He and I are gonna have a friendly little conversation about respecting a person’s privacy and property.”
“And if he blows you off?” she asked.
“Then we’ll follow through with submitting the petition you spent yesterday working on.”
The couple chatted about plans for their upcoming party to celebrate the completion of their new home.
Liz had been working on it for weeks now, planning out every single detail, excited to show off the chateau and to thank Margaret and Lucy for all of their hard work. In fact, she and Floyd planned a small surprise for them, one the couple both agreed was well deserved.
Liz returned to their original topic. “I’m hoping you can talk to Tristan Keller, man to man, and get him to realize what he’s doing is unacceptable.”
“I will. One way or another, we’re gonna get our peaceful oasis back,” Floyd vowed.
A light rap on the back door interrupted their conversation. Liz sprang from her barstool and peeked out the window. It was Echo.
She eased the door open. “Good morning, Echo.”
“Good morning, Liz. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all.”
“I was wondering if Teddy could hang out with Duchess for a little while today. He got scared by some loud noises this morning and I don’t want to leave him alone.”
“Of course.” Liz reached for the pup, who was also Duchess’s brother. “We’ll give Teddy lots of love and attention.”
“Thanks.” Echo turned to go and hesitated, looking as if she wanted to say something.
“Is there something else?”
“Yeah. Have you noticed anyone throwing tomatoes at your mailbox or at the house?”
Liz wrinkled her nose. “Tomatoes?”
“There are a bunch of rotting tomatoes on my deck. It sounded like mini bombs going off about an hour ago.” Echo said she heard them hit. “The stupid plane was flying over. I heard the tomatoes drop and then a few minutes later a loud boom.”
Floyd rose from the bar, a look of concern etched on his face. “Mind if we run over and take a look at your deck?”
“Not at all. It’s kind of freaking me out.”
Liz set Teddy on the floor next to Duchess and followed her husband and tenant outside. Her heart plummeted when the trio drew closer to Echo’s mobile home and she noticed splotches of rotting produce dotting the deck and yard. One had even landed on the hood of Echo’s car.
Anger quickly replaced her dismay, and she could feel the tips of her ears burn. “The man threw tomatoes at Echo’s house.”
“Man?” Echo asked.
“Tristan Keller,” Floyd said. “Liz found out he’s the pilot who has been buzzing around.”
“Dropping water balloons and now rotten tomatoes,” Liz said. “I want to press charges.”
Floyd lifted a hand. “We need proof. We can’t go accusing him of something unless we saw him do it.”
“Did you see the plane?” Liz asked Echo.
“No. Teddy was outdoors taking a bathroom break when it happened. He got so freaked out, he ran away and I had to chase after him. By the time I caught him, I heard the loud pop and then it got quiet.”
“Maybe we got lucky and his plane went down,” Liz joked.
“C’mon, Liz,” Floyd gently chided.
“I don’t want him hurt. I want him out of our hair. Permanently.”
“I’m going to wipe my car off before it strips the paint.” Echo ran back inside to grab a rag while Liz and Floyd returned home.
“This has to stop.” Liz went into a long rant, pointing out his flights were an invasion of privacy, how he was spying on them from the sky and even targeting their property. “We’re sitting ducks.”
“Like I said, I’ll handle it today.” Floyd grabbed his cell phone and keys. He gave her a quick kiss and left.
Meanwhile, Liz, still fuming over Keller targeting them, returned outside to search for more tomato bombs. Her anger escalated when she found several near the barn and even more only steps away from her Range Rover.
What if one of the pups had been outside when Keller dropped them from his plane? Duchess or Teddy could have been hurt.
She called the dogs back inside, cleaned up the breakfast dishes and promptly logged onto the flight app. As suspected, Tristan Keller’s plane was the only one flying over their house early that morning, completing three loops in total before abruptly stopping.
The sound of sirens caught Liz’s attention. She darted to the door and watched as an ambulance sped past. Seconds later, the sirens stopped.
Thinking there was an accident nearby, she slipped her shoes on and jogged to the end of the driveway. The ambulance was nowhere in sight.
Liz turned to go when she noticed her neighbor Christi flying down her front steps. She gave Liz a quick wave and ran across the road. “What’s going on?” she asked breathlessly. “I saw an ambulance go by a couple of minutes ago.”
“I saw it too. I have no idea where it went.”
Christi shivered, rubbing the sides of her arms. “Is Floyd home?”
“No. He and Echo left for work.”
“Hopefully everyone is okay.”
The women chatted for a few more minutes before Liz returned to the house. She ran upstairs to get ready, mentally ticking off her to-do list. After finishing, she gathered up her purse and car keys. Liz crossed the driveway, pausing when she heard a car pulling in. It was a Montbay County sheriff’s patrol car.
Liz’s scalp started to tingle. Something had happened. Her gut told her it involved the ambulance.
The driver’s side door opened. A uniformed officer emerged and made his way over. “Is this the Rasmussen residence?”
“It is. I’m Liz Rasmussen.”
“There has been an incident down the road and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
“Incident?” Liz echoed.
“A local pilot’s plane crashed in a field near here.”