One for sorrow,
Two for mirth
Three for a funeral,
Four for birth
Five for heaven
Six for hell
Seven for the devil, his own self
A Crowd of Witnesses
I had the first tangible lead connecting someone to Barney Ferguson’s murder. I was convinced Agnes Allard was somehow involved. She owned the farm near the ditch where Barney’s body had been found and she had a revenge motive going back over two hundred years.
I know it sounds improbable such a long-standing grudge would lead to murder but it was a definite fact that provided a motive, however implausible it might seem to others.
The facts showed Agnes was walking in her ancestors’ footsteps pursuing witchcraft, so revenge was a real possibility.
The only remaining question I had was how this was linked to the fire ceremonies Barney was covertly observing and why this seemed to be the trigger incident that led to his death.
Of course, I was still puzzling out the vision of the burning man that came to me in a dream—and some might say it referred to Agnes’ ancestor being burned at the stake for being a witch.
But my psychic gift doesn’t work that way—it was definitely a man I saw and it wasn’t Barney. It was a younger man in a wicker cage who perished in the flames.
I got in the car and headed out to the Allard property but this time I called for back-up. Gil Hodges, a detective who worked with Barney responded and said he’d meet me at the entrance to the farm.
A number of crows started up from a field and began following me. It was a sign I was on to something and I began to tremble either from fear or excitement—or, probably both. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I pulled into the farm driveway and parked beside Gil’s unmarked police car.
A migrant worker came out from behind the barn and saw us.
Somehow he figured we were cops and tried to run. Unfortunately, his boot caught on a loose fence wire tripping him.
Gil jumped out of his car and collared him before he could get to his feet.
“Hang on, guy,” he rasped, “we’re not here for you. Where’s the boss lady?”
“Right behind you,” a female voice announced.
We turned and saw a woman with a shotgun levelling it at both of us. “You’re trespassing on my property.”
“I’m police,” Gil replied, “and this is my associate. We’re here to ask you some questions.”
“I don’t have to answer,” she said tersely, “Get off my property.”
I looked at Gil and he shot me a glance that telegraphed, don’t do anything.
“That wouldn’t be a good move on your part, Ms. Allard—we’re here conducting an official inquiry and if you refuse to co-operate, the Swat team will show up. I don;’t think you want that.”
“I don’t want you here, “ she responded, “now get back in your vehicles and leave or face the consequences.”
“The same consequences that happened to Barney Ferguson?”
“I don’t know anything about that—now leave!”
Gil motioned for me to get back in the car which I did and we backed out onto the deserted county road.
I got out of my car and joined him in his.
“What do we do now?” I sighed.
“I don’t have any choice, Aaron, I’ll call Emma Laine, the chief, and she’ll send out a team.”
At that moment there was a movement in the brush to our right and the young migrant man we saw previously, motioned to us.
“Wonder what he wants?” I asked.
Gil got out and gestured for me to follow. “Let’s find out.”
The migrant looked terrified and was glancing furtively around.
“Don’t want trouble,” he said in halting English.
“Why are you afraid?” Gils asked him.
“Very bad accident—Emilio died. Ms, Agnes very angry. She say, don’t say anything.”
“How did Emilio die?” Gil questioned.
“He was trapped in Wooden Man”
Gil looked at me perplexed.
I broke in and asked. “Did Ms. Agnes ask you to build a big wooden man for her fire ceremony?”
“Si, si!” He replied, relieved I understood.
I shot Gil a glance. “Don’t worry—I think I knw what he’s saying.”
I turned back to the worker. “Why did you run away when you saw us?”
“Because of other police man. He ask me questions about fire and I tell him what happened to Emilio.”
“Did Ms. Agnes find out?”
He nodded. “She very angry and tell me to go away into town and she take care of this.”
I looked at Gil. “I think we can surmise what happened to Barney.”
“I better call in Swat,” he hissed.
Fifteen minutes later, Agnes Allard was in custody and the farm searched for evidence.
Th burned remains of Emilio were recovered from a hastily dug grave and with the help of an interpreter, we were able to piece together what occured and how Barney met his end.
The migrant’s name was Juan and we recovered his passport and an envelope containing the backpay he was owed which Agnes was using to blackmail him into silence.
The local businessmen raised enough money to pay for Juan’s flight back to Mexico and several thousand dollars to compensate him and to help his family.
When we left the farm the crows had lighted near the entrance and watched us leave. I counted seven of them—the Biblical number of perfection.
It seemed appropriate, because they had brought their mission to a close and found perfect justice for their loyal friend.
Barney would be proud. I know I was.