Chapter 24
The man flashed the gold and black badge, folded it in half, and stuck it back in his jacket pocket. “Good afternoon. I’m Agent Simpkins. Is this the Floyd and Elizabeth Rasmussen residence?”
“It is,” Liz confirmed. “I’m Liz Rasmussen.”
“I’m here because of an incident where a small private plane was shot down. It occurred Thursday morning.”
“I know all about it. Let me guess…you’re here with good news. You’ve arrested the shooter.”
“No, but we are making some headway in the case. Shooting down an aircraft, private or otherwise, is a federal crime.”
“If you’re insinuating me and my husband are responsible, then you’re mistaken.”
Simpkins flipped through his notepad. “You contacted the township and inquired about filing a petition to restrict air travel in this area.”
“Because the man was harassing us. He was spying on us and…” Liz paused, slowly counting to ten. It would not help her case to tell the agent exactly what she thought. “If you have a moment, I would like to show you something.”
She led him across the driveway, to a small pile of withered tomatoes. “Mr. Keller was not only spying on us and harassing us, but he was also targeting my tenant, my husband, and me, not to mention our neighbors.”
“What are you showing me?”
“I’m sure you already know Tristan Keller was tossing tomatoes from the window of his plane. I found these in the yard, at the end of my driveway, on my tenant’s deck.”
Simpkins removed a pen from his pocket and began jotting notes. “How long has this been going on?”
“For several weeks, although we only started noticing the tomatoes the last few days.”
“Were you aware Mr. Keller was interested in purchasing your property?”
“I found that out after he started harassing us and spying on us,” Liz said. “My husband and he were both interested in it. We eventually purchased it.”
“Prior to purchasing, were you also aware of the potential natural gas at this location?”
“My husband was aware,” Liz answered truthfully. “I’m not sure how relevant this is to Mr. Keller’s harassment, spying and what happened to his plane.”
“I would consider there to be a small to significant amount of bad blood between your husband and Mr. Keller.”
Liz clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to unload and let this man know what she really thought.
“You have a very nice home.” The agent placed his notepad and pen in his pocket and motioned toward Liz’s SUV. “A nice new luxury vehicle. It’s clear you’ve spent a great deal of money renovating the home. How many square feet is it? Four thousand and some change?”
“It’s five thousand square feet. Again, I don’t see what my vehicle and home have to do with Mr. Keller,” she gritted out.
“Back to the bad blood. Were you aware Mr. Keller contacted an attorney with plans to challenge the purchase of your property?”
Liz blinked rapidly, her mind whirling. “No. How could he do that?”
“It happens all the time. You would be surprised.” The agent pinned her with a steady stare. “I’ll ask you point-blank, Mrs. Rasmussen, do you have any idea who may have shot Mr. Keller’s plane down?”
Liz enunciated each syllable, her gaze unwavering. This man—federal agent or not—would not intimidate Elizabeth Rasmussen. “It’s deer hunting season, which means on any given day the area fields are filled with gun-toting hunters.”
Simpkins ignored her comment. “Is Mr. Rasmussen around?”
“He’s working.”
“At Rasmussen Farms?” The agent rattled off the farm’s address.
“Correct.”
Another car, similar to the federal agent’s, pulled into the driveway. Four men emerged.
“Who are they?”
“Other agents working the case.” Simpkins removed a folded paper from his front pocket and handed it to her. “I have a warrant to search this property.”
“Search my home?” she gasped. “You can’t come in here and start tearing the place apart.”
He ignored Liz and began directing his men, one to the barn, one to the pigpen, another to Echo’s mobile home and the last one to her house.
“I have a tenant who lives in the mobile home.” Liz could feel panic start to set in. “She has a small dog. Don’t let the dog out!” she yelled at the agent who was heading that way.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Simpkins said. “It would be in your best interest to cooperate.”
“You blindsided me. No warning. No explanation,” Liz fumed. She watched as the fourth agent opened the back door leading into her kitchen. “This is too much.”
She ran after the man and found him searching the kitchen cabinets. “What exactly do you think you’re going to find? I don’t keep rifles in my kitchen drawers.”
“I’m here to search, ma’am, and searching your home and property is what I intend to do.”
“Not without me.” Liz followed him from room to room, practically begging him to be careful. She had spent a small fortune decorating the place, every piece of furniture, every wall hanging had been carefully chosen by her to create their dream home.
They entered the formal living room, and he made a beeline for the fireplace. The agent shined his flashlight up into the chimney before reaching for the Lalique Bacchantes crystal vase she’d paid a generous five figures for. It was one of her prized possessions.
Liz began to feel lightheaded. “Please be careful. The vase is worth a small fortune.”
The agent shot her an annoyed look and picked it up. He inspected the base and placed it back on the mantle. “It’s nothing I would choose.”
“Then you have no idea about good taste,” Liz whispered under her breath, watching as he headed toward their Kawai grand piano, another five figure purchase.
“Let me guess…the piano is worth a small fortune too,” he smirked.
“It is.”
He ran his fingers over the ivory keys. “It’s nice. I would take the piano over the vase any day.”
Liz released the breath she was holding when he strolled out of the room.
Although he spent extra time inspecting the gun safe, removing several and taking pictures, he moved at a steady pace and wrapped up his main floor search. The bedrooms were next. Quickly deciding that the less she said to him, the better, she waited for him in the hall.
Floyd! Floyd needed to know what was going on. Liz tapped out a quick text.
She received a prompt reply, and her heart plummeted. Apparently, there were more than a few agents “on the case.”
Several agents are here searching the farm.
A movement caught her eye, and she slid her phone back into her pocket. It was the agent. “How do I access your basement?”
“This way.” Liz escorted him to the main level, down the long hall, and to the basement door near the rear entrance. “You won’t find anything down there. We use it for storage.”
She lingered near the bottom step and let him conduct his search on his own, certain there was nothing to find. She wasn’t wrong.
He joined her a short time later. “I noticed double doors outside leading to the basement.”
“The same basement you just searched. You’ve seen it all.”
On the way out, the agent checked the cellar’s double doors and inspected the steps before catching up with Simpkins who stood next to his car.
“I’ve searched the entire house, sir.”
The other agents meandered over, each reporting the same—how they hadn’t found a rifle matching the one used to shoot Keller’s plane.
Simpkins excused himself. He had a brief word with his men and joined Liz. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Rasmussen.”
“Reluctant cooperation,” Liz muttered. “You need to take a closer look at my neighbors across the road. Both of them were home when Keller’s plane was shot down.”
“We have several persons of interest. Good day.” The agent returned to his car and slowly backed out of the driveway. He and the other vehicles were soon out of sight. She ran into the house, grabbed her cell phone, and dialed Floyd’s number.
“Hey sugar lips.”
“Agent Simpkins and his men finally left. They searched the house, Echo’s home, and all our buildings. Do you still have agents at the farm?”
“They’re wrapping things up now. I figured they would show up sooner or later.”
“Simpkins said Tristan Keller hired an attorney and planned to challenge the purchase agreement for our property.”
“No kidding.”
“Anyway, I thought I should give you a heads-up.”
“Could be their plan is to question all neighbors,” Floyd said.
“I’m sure they will.” Liz reminded him about what she’d discovered. “Like I mentioned earlier, Darren was home at the time of the shooting. Not only was he home, but I could see him running around outside.”
“Maybe Darren shot the plane. We don’t really know him.” Her husband made a valid point. Liz and Floyd knew very little about their neighbor, only that he traveled a great deal and was in medical sales.
“Christi also acted nervous and kept looking at their shed.”
“Like maybe she was hiding something?”
“It’s possible. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, into all of it.”
“The agents are coming my way.” Floyd sounded distracted, and Liz could hear voices. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll figure this out.”
A knot formed in the pit of Liz’s stomach, a nervousness that maybe this time her sister wouldn’t be able to help them navigate their way out of the mess. Still, what was her other option? Wait for the agents to show up again, this time with an arrest warrant? “You’re right. We’ll figure it out one way or another. Hopefully, it won’t be from behind bars.”