by Ellen Riggs
The dog’s ears came forward and he mumbled something that sounded like a question.
“Of course we’re going to try to help,” I said. “We owe it to Edna.” After a successful left turn onto a side street I added, “Apparently I owe it to my family, too. And I most definitely owe it to myself to get the farm’s reputation off the hook. Again.”
I wasn’t cocky enough to try parking the big beast on Main Street in front of crowded noonday sidewalks, so I found a nice long spot nearby. From there, we walked to the Berry Good Café. It was my favorite little eatery in town, despite my having experienced several unsavory conversations on the back patio, including one with Kellan and another with a Flordale VP. I thought about trying to cleanse those memories with a short visit and a nice scone but decided to place my catering order and keep rolling. Jilly had her hands full with the cops desecrating her sanctuary.
I left Keats leashed to a lamppost outside—comfortable only because I could see him from the counter. Far from being stressed, his head swivelled this way and that, enjoying the view. All the world was a stage for this dog, and all the men and women merely players.
After arranging for meal delivery for the next couple of days, I left the café and ambled down Main Street with Keats by my side. When I first came home to Clover Grove, I’d felt like a stranger in a strange land. Many stores from my youth were long gone, replaced by cute new ones with fake antique facades and kitschy names. Two months later, the place had grown on me, although I wished everyone would stop trying so hard. It felt like a desperate bid to keep up with Dorset Hills, our more prosperous neighbor, which was impossible to recreate. Dog Town had lucked into a fabulous marketing angle at just the right time. Clover Grove should find its own, unique claim to fame.
As we passed Crowning Glory salon, Keats circled me and tightened the loop of the leash so fast he almost tripped me. “Hey. Rude,” I said. “What’s up with that?”
The door to the salon had opened with a jangle of bells just in time for Robbi Ford to hear me talking to my dog.
“What’s up,” she said with a chuckle, “is that you’re in desperate need of a haircut, Ivy Galloway. Your cute pup obviously knows that, and you’re in luck because I had a cancellation. The throne is empty.”
“Oh, I couldn’t, Roberta. Not today.”
“Robbi,” she reminded me. “I’ll make it fast. You have no idea how good I am with scissors.”
“Well…” I could certainly use a cut, and despite the fact that many, if not most, of Robbi’s clients were seniors, I figured she could manage my mane just fine. Her own hair, long, lush and impeccably highlighted, was the perfect advertisement for her services.
“I’ll sweeten the deal with a latte,” she said. “I have a high-end machine in here.”
“Done.” I spun to unfurl the leash from my legs and let Keats pull me inside.
Robbi headed to a coffee station in the back corner of the small salon. Crowning Glory managed to pull off cute without being completely overdone. There were two chairs covered in red vinyl with gold trim that actually did look like thrones, only more comfortable, and the big oval mirrors in front of the chairs were surrounded by ornate filigree. When Robbi came back, a pretty floral teacup rattled gently on its saucer. Two sugar cubes sat beside the cup with tiny silver tongs. She waited for me to add one of the cubes and then offered me a sterling teaspoon.
“Wow,” I said, taking the cup and teaspoon. “I feel better already. You treat people like royalty. No wonder you’re so popular with the bridge club.”
She laughed again, and I knew that melodious sound was part of her charm. No matter what tales she heard as she snipped, she probably ended every session with a reassuring laugh that made the town’s leading ladies feel like queens.
“I’m pretty good with my magic wand, too,” she said, picking up a pair of scissors from a little cart and waving them.
“Just a quick trim, please. Things are a bit crazy at the inn today.”
Keats herded me none too subtly toward the chair with nudges and outright pokes with his long nose. Since when did he care about how my hair looked? Did he even understand what went on here? I sighed and sat down. Maybe he wanted me to look good for my future date with Kellan. When push came to nudge with Keats, I usually took his lead.
“I heard about Edna,” Robbi said, and her smile slipped away. “She was a valued client for many years. We’d even become friends, of a sort, which few could likely say. She was very private.”
Ah, so that’s why Keats wanted me to come in. Perhaps Robbi had intel on the Bridge Buddies, and which one of them was most likely to poison. And here I thought he’d become a romantic. Well, in the interests of sleuthing, I was willing to part with my locks.
Robbi released the messy bun I’d twisted and clipped before Aladdin crowed at dawn. Sometimes my scalp hurt from leaving my hair up too long, but leaving it loose was an occupational hazard.
“My appearance is the last thing I worry about these days,” I admitted. “But I’d probably feel better if I looked better.”
Robbi’s smile came back. “Exactly my philosophy. And Edna’s too, believe it or not. That’s why she decided last minute to get a perm the day before the event at your inn. She didn’t want a hair out of place.” She gave a heavy sigh. “Now it will stay perfect forever.”
Keats sat just far enough away to avoid getting stepped on but close enough to hear every word. Meanwhile, Robbi wasted no time in starting to dry cut. The first cut was definitely the deepest and she gave me a reassuring smile in the mirror when I gasped. I suppose she knew a bold move was the only way to get me to part with any of it. Once that cut was made, there was no turning back, so I decided to surrender to the process.
“Edna’s perm caused a tempest in a teapot,” I said, when it seemed safe to distract her. “The Bridge Buddies were up in arms because it spilled into Annamae’s standing appointment.”
Robbi gave a cluck of disapproval. “I value my longstanding clients, Ivy, really I do, but sometimes it’s like negotiating between warring nations. Annamae didn’t seem that upset, but the others… oh my. I even offered to do a home visit for Annamae the same day. It’s nice to get out of here sometimes, although I lose more scissors that way.” She laughed as she snipped away half a year of growth. “Once people realize how sharp professional shears are, they never want to return them.”
“I bet people prefer to come here for the experience,” I said. “It’s nice to take a break in your throne.”
“That’s how most people feel,” she said, her smile returning. “The seniors especially look forward to getting out and catching up.”
“Mom says your salon is a social hub for the community. It’s where everything happens with the town matrons.”
Again, Robbi’s smile wavered and failed. “I am so sorry about what happened with your mom. Dahlia was bullied out of here, no two ways about it. They tried it with Edna, too.”
“Mom’s doing fine,” I said. “She made Iris learn hairstyling basics online and every time I see her, it looks more polished and professional.”
Robbi nodded. “One day, she can come back. This won’t go on forever.”
She seemed to be implying that the ruling hair class would eventually graduate to the great beyond, leaving some available slots for people like Mom, who wasn’t one of the cool girls.
“You’re the only game in town,” I said. “It’s like a turf war.”
“And yet my business is far from booming.” She gestured to the empty throne. “I can’t seem to pull in a younger crowd, and believe me, I’d love to.” She gave my hair a toss and a dramatic snip. “This is far more fun than repeating the same set every week for my seniors. You’re going to be a walking billboard.”
I laughed. “You could do better. I’ll send Jilly one day.”
“You do that. I’d banked on Clover Grove catching up to Dog Town a little faster, but we’re the turtles.”
Glancing down, I saw Keats givi
ng me a piercing stare. I got the point. Less chitchat, more sleuthing.
“I admired Edna’s resilience,” I said, watching Robbi in the mirror. “The bridge club was hard on her that last day.”
“Make that every day,” Robbi said. “They didn’t like the secrets she knew. As the town’s only nurse for decades, she had access to all the juicy stories. Old news now, of course, and far beyond the current club.”
I grinned up at her. “How juicy?”
“Affairs, pregnancies, STDS, you name it. Someone had an abortion without her husband knowing. Another husband got a vasectomy without his wife knowing, which broke her heart when she found out, since she wanted more kids.” She sighed as she snipped. “That’s not even touching on the real ailments.”
“Edna told you all this?” I concealed my shock with the poker face I’d perfected over a decade in HR.
Robbi shook her head quickly. “Clients shared their own stories, and most of them have passed, now. But everyone knew Edna was aware of these things and they resented it. Edna was always discreet, however, at least with me.”
My mind was spinning a bit from all this information but Keats stared at me intently, as if warning me to keep a cool head.
“Maybe one of my current guests wanted Edna gone,” I said.
Robbi shrugged and met my eyes in the ornate mirror. “Even if they had secrets worth hiding, they’d be decades old. I don’t see why Gertrude, Morag or Joan would snap like that now. Sweet Annamae simply isn’t capable.”
I knew from experience that seemingly sweet people could do terrible things, but I tended to agree that old stories like these would have been filed away by now. “I guess these women have tortured themselves and each other with secret-keeping for decades. No wonder it feels like a powder keg. When they’re not playing bridge, that is. Once the cards are in hand, the air clears.”
“Interesting,” Robbi said, spinning the throne to cut a long fringe around my face. “Even the small things caused tension. Who tipped the best, who brought in the best cookies, who dared to try a new cut or color. It was like dancing naked in a minefield.”
I laughed at the image. “You deserve danger pay, Robbi.”
Standing back, she appraised me and gave a few last, dramatic snips. “And yet I love my job, and love my clients. I just want everyone to get along and I do my best to keep the peace. I’m only telling you this now because I want justice for Edna.”
I nodded but her left hand clamped down on my head. “Don’t move. I’m about to finish a work of art.”
“Kellan Harper will want to talk to you,” I said.
“I look forward to it,” she said, grinning. “Maybe he’ll even thank me for the good work I did today.”
“For sharing Bridge Buddy politics?” I asked.
Stepping back, she twirled the chair so that I faced the ornate mirror. “For turning his beauty into a princess. Now… let’s get you washed and blown out.”
Keats pulled me out of the shop even harder than he’d pulled me in. It was as if he couldn’t shake the dark clumps of my hair off his snowy paws fast enough. He shook himself thoroughly and repeatedly, and his tail and ears drooped. I felt similarly grimy, but on the inside, from hearing the salacious tales of the Clover Grove elite. Why I thought it would be different here than anywhere else, I didn’t know. After what I used to hear about the private lives of Flordale staff, I thought nothing would shock me. It turned out I wasn’t immune after all.
Nearly a block away, an older woman with frizzy gray curls and an oversized coat that flapped in the breeze stepped in front of me. “You’re the youngest Galloway girl, right? The one with the farm?”
“That’s right. I’m Ivy and this is Keats.”
His tail came up and the white tuft waved. Either he liked her or he just liked being out and about again.
“I’m Maud Burnett. I went to school with your grandmother, Gardenia.” She paused for a moment. “Oh, how she hated that name.”
I laughed. “Floral names are the family curse. I figure I got lucky at the end of the line.”
“Well, you’re a lovely girl with a lovely name,” Maud said. “I was hoping you’d do something lovely now in memory of Edna Evans.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Were you and Edna friends?”
“I tried,” Maud said. “Edna didn’t find friendship easy. But I’m very sorry she passed, and in the way she did. It wasn’t right.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “I’m sure the police will figure out what happened.”
“I hope so, but they’ll have to cast a wide net. Edna had some detractors, as I’m sure you know. I hope your handsome brother will talk to Ted Tupper. He’s the one who petitioned to get Edna fired as school nurse. They retired her early, and it was a hit to her pride and her pension.”
“I’ll mention that to the police,” I said.
“Mention Linda Snead as well. Edna blamed a bout of salmonella on crab salad from Linda’s deli and ultimately the business shuttered due to the gossip. You know what this town is like.”
I nodded. “I sure do. Is that all?”
“Well, they’re already looking into the bridge club, I’m sure. But it might not be a bad idea to talk to Helen Randall over in Dorset Hills. She’s had nothing but harsh words for Edna for decades now.”
“And how did Edna harm Helen?” I asked. It was almost comical how many enemies Edna had amassed over a lifetime.
“She broke her husband’s heart, that’s how.”
My eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
“Before they were married, of course. It sounds like Merle Randall never got over Edna and poor Helen felt like the secondhand rose.”
“Ah, right. Merle, her former fiancé.”
Maud nodded. “I’m surprised she mentioned him at all. She must have liked you.”
“I think we were forging a bond,” I said. “As you say, she found that difficult.”
Maud clutched my arm. “What I really wanted to ask was whether you’d look after Edna’s cats. You being an animal lover and all, I figured you wouldn’t let them starve. There are so many of them and they probably can’t fend for themselves anymore.”
“Cats? I was over there every day, Maud, and never saw a single cat.”
“It’s a feral colony, and I only know about it because I still work part-time at the post office. She got a huge shipment of cat food and veterinary supplies delivered just last week, so they’re still around.”
I glanced at Keats and found him watching Maud with his head tipped and his ears forward. He was interested in this line of discussion. Very interested, indeed.
“Maud, I promise to look into everything you’ve said. If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call me at Runaway Farm.”
“I won’t, Ivy. And if you’d like me to say a few words at the funeral, I’d be honored. I assume you’re taking care of the arrangements.”
Add something else to my ever-growing to-do list.
Chapter Thirteen
“What do you say about a walk, buddy?” I asked, on the drive home. “Maybe we should look for those feral cats before they get too hungry.”
Keats mumbled enthusiastic agreement. I knew this was an errand he’d embrace with glee. One of his few shortcomings in my eyes was being a cat-hater. The two barn cats who lived at the farm when we arrived had shipped out soon after.
“Look, if we find them, you’ve got to be nice. I’m really not thrilled that you rousted our barn cats, you know. You’d better take up mousing if you intend to fill all roles.”
He treated me with a cool blue-eyed stare that said, “Never going to happen.” It’s not like he wasn’t capable, but he had bigger priorities. That left Charlie dealing with the increasing rodent population in ways I didn’t want to know about. Hannah had owned a terrier, Prima, who was a dedicated hunter, but we were losing the battle she’d won.
As we pulled up at Edna’s house I complimented myself on anothe
r drive without a single stall. I was on a roll. Kellan should flirt with me more often—and maybe he would now that I had a rather stunning new hairdo. I tipped the rearview mirror and admired the gleaming, stylish cut. Honestly, my hair had never looked so good. Back in Boston, I’d kept it in a take-me-seriously bob. Now there were flowing layers that started at my chin, which meant I could still sweep it up and away. But when I wanted to look date-worthy, I had options. Robbi really knew her stuff.
Keats mumbled something akin to, “Stop ogling yourself,” and I laughed. He wasn’t used to my spending a single second on vanity.
“Get used to it, buddy. Kellan is a handsome man. He deserves a little effort.”
If a dog could grunt in disgust, that was the sound he made now. Then he panted ha-ha-ha to get me moving. He was all over this feral colony idea.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said, getting out of the truck. “Maud may be wrong. In fact, Edna mentioned her disgust for all things feline more than once and I’m hard pressed to imagine she’d cater to an entire colony. But if there are hungry cats missing her, I need to check.”
The first thing we did was check the two large back sheds, which thankfully, weren’t even locked. There was nothing inside to give me pause. Or paws. I smiled at my own silent joke and Keats practically rolled his eyes.
“Is there anyplace else to search?” I asked. “Use your nose.”
He did just that, lowering it like a bloodhound. After a couple of wide circles, he headed into the bush on the far side of Edna’s property, away from the farm. I never came over this way as the land was spotted with small marshes.
Before long, Keats gave a sharp bark of triumph. There was a trim, grey, relatively new metal shed squatting in thick brush. This one was also unlocked, so I turned on my phone light and stepped inside.
Sure enough, there were half a dozen large bags of cat kibble and dozens of gallon jugs of water. On a higher shelf were boxes of flea treatments and an arsenal of other supplies feral cats might need to stay healthy.