by Meri Allen
A mom and her son leaned over the fence of the empty pen where Buzzy had kept baby goats, llamas, and sometimes miniature horses for kids to pet. My heart dropped at the sight of their disappointed faces.
“Are the ponies coming back?” the little boy said.
“I hope so.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “We’ll have baby goats here on Sunday. There are some across the way.” I saw one of the interns and waved him over. “Can you take them to see the goats?” He nodded, and the mother and son followed him across the lane.
Another item for my mile-long to-do list. Bring in more animals for the petting pen. Get more picnic tables set up. Make ice cream.
Visit Angelica. More than anything I wanted to hear her version of events from the night Mike was killed. I’d liked her, and I didn’t want to believe, as Tillie did, that she was guilty of murder. But I didn’t want to believe that Darwin was guilty either.
Caroline was washing a bowl in arm deep soapy water when I entered the shop kitchen. She gasped. “Oh, the flowers are lovely!”
I set the arrangement on a counter behind the Book of Spells. “Three arrangements came today. Good thing Dandy was walking by. She told me lilies are toxic to cats.”
Dark shadows circled Caroline’s eyes. She toweled her hands and took the card from the arrangement. “It’s from Mike’s office. His boss called, a really nice guy, asking about a memorial service.” Her voice drifted. “Riley, come with me. I have to talk to Darwin.”
“Now? Are you sure?” I was afraid Darwin would say some things Caroline could never unhear. Darwin had poured his soul into the farm. Mike would’ve sold it in a heartbeat.
Caroline read my thoughts. “Did Darwin kill Mike?” She smoothed her apron over and over. “Ridiculous. But I have to ask him. I have to hear it from him.”
She wasn’t going to change her mind. “Who’s working?” I asked.
“Gerri and Brandon.” Caroline took off her apron. “It’s kind of slow now. I’ll tell them to keep an eye on the chiller. I’ll be back in time to add the mix-ins. Let’s go.”
Caroline’s hunched shoulders straightened as we walked up the lane. When we turned into the driveway to the farm, a Penniman Police cruiser was driving out. Darwin Brightwood sat in the back seat, his head bowed.
A shock ran through me as Caroline gasped and clutched my arm. We watched as the cruiser turned onto Fairweather Road.
Pru stood at the gate to her kitchen garden, tears streaking her face. Caroline and I ran to her. “What happened?”
Pru swiped her eyes. “Come inside.” I turned to look up the hill to Buzzy’s house. Thank goodness Willow wasn’t outside to see her father taken away in a police car.
Pru walked unsteadily into the kitchen. I steered her to a bench and she dropped onto it as if she were a marionette whose strings had been cut. Caroline sat next to Pru and put an arm around her shoulders while I filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove.
“I’ve been married to that man for thirty years. Never has he hurt another human being.” Pru grabbed Caroline’s hand. “But he hasn’t been himself lately.”
I made Pru a cup of tea, set it in front of her, then took a seat on her other side.
“The night of the funeral,” Pru swallowed. “You saw how upset Darwin was. Mike had called him a few weeks earlier, telling him about this great real estate project. How we could all work together to make sure Buzzy was well cared for in her old age.”
Caroline and I shared a glance. Mike had the development in the works before Buzzy died, and had figured an angle that would strike Darwin Brightwood right in the heart.
“How the development would ‘honor the past.’” Pru made air quotes. “Darwin kept asking where all the new houses in the development would go. Mike said it would be a green project that maintained open land.
“Then the night before Buzzy’s funeral, Mike sent a group email that had the plans attached—I don’t think he realized he’d sent it to Darwin too. The farm would’ve been cut down to a tenth of its size, most of the orchards ripped out, Buzzy’s house gone, ice cream shop gone. Mike had led us to believe that the development would have apartments or townhouses, something very ecologically responsible. But the plans were for estates—massive homes, each on two acres.”
Pru took a sip of her tea.
“I’ve never seen Darwin so furious,” Pru said. “He felt betrayed. You saw how upset Darwin was after he talked to Mike.”
“Yes,” Caroline whispered.
“After we left your house”—Pru hesitated—“Darwin did some chores. I know he was trying to keep his mind and hands occupied. Then we went to bed but neither of us could sleep. Sometime around midnight, Darwin said he was going for a walk. I watched him head up the lane toward the Love Nest. I knew he was going to confront Mike.”
The note in the Love Nest had said “Meet me at midnight.”
Caroline bowed her head.
Pru’s shoulders sagged. “He came back about a half hour later. Said he’d walked around a bit trying to calm down but he couldn’t. Angelica’s car was gone so he banged on the door of the Love Nest. But then a black cat jumped out of the dark and scared the heck out of him.”
Rocky. Caroline and I shared a glance.
“He felt foolish being scared by a little cat,” Pru’s voice trailed, “so he came home.”
“Did he tell the police he’d been at the Love Nest?” I asked.
Pru jumped to her feet and paced. “No. I still can’t understand it. We talked about it again last night. He promised he would today, as soon as he finished the morning chores, but then the police showed up anyway.”
I remembered the land trust. “Did Darwin talk about a land trust with Buzzy?”
“He penciled in a meeting about it on the calendar.” Pru’s voice was dull. Her eyes moved around the kitchen, from the rocking chair to the fireplace, out the window into the garden. I wondered if she was thinking that this could all be taken away.
“What did the police say?” Caroline said in a low voice.
“I overheard one of them say they got a phone call with an anonymous tip that placed Darwin at the Love Nest the night Mike died.”
My mind leapt to Angelica. Had she been able to talk to the police? But Darwin said her car was gone when he got there. And think, Riley. If Angelica was the tipster, the police wouldn’t call it an anonymous tip, would they?
Pru leaned against the sink, her arms wrapped around her stomach. “Darwin told me that when he was leaving the Love Nest, a car was driving up the lane.”
“What kind of car?” I asked.
She threw up her hands. “He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice. He said a small car.”
Farm Lane was a cut-through, Flo had said. Anyone could’ve driven there.
I thought of the neighbors. Gerri and Flo shared a house and Dandy lived next door to them just up Farm Lane. I’d seen Gerri driving a boat-sized Lincoln Continental. I had no idea what the others drove. Aaron the Hermit? His house was the closest of all to the Love Nest. Did he even notice what happened beyond his wall of weeds and trees? None of the neighbors had reason to be anonymous, did they?
A thought struck me. The driver could’ve been the killer, trying to pin blame on Darwin.
Caroline stood. “I have to tell you the truth, Pru. I always have.”
With a look, I begged her to stop. Pru had had enough.
“Riley and I came by last night”—Caroline cleared her throat—“to drop off the bread. We heard you and Darwin arguing. I heard what Darwin said about Mike.”
Pru’s face crumpled. “He said some hard things.”
Caroline took Pru’s hands in hers. “I’m sure of one thing. Darwin could never have killed Mike. Never.”
Chapter 17
I wish I shared Caroline’s certainty. I’d seen people, desperate people, do things their friends and families would swear they’d never do. We’re all capable of anything when our backs are against t
he wall.
Caroline calmed as we returned to Udderly. To my surprise she went into Buzzy’s office. I followed.
“Riley, I feel better.” She sat down on Buzzy’s chair and burst into tears.
“I thought you said you felt better!” I rushed to her and put my arms around her.
“I do.” She sniffled. “I figured something out. Why I feel so bad about Mike. We were never close. Never. When I cry for Mike it’s like”—she groped for words—“I’m crying for what I didn’t have. I didn’t have a good relationship with him, no, honestly, I don’t know if I had any relationship with him. When I cry for Buzzy it’s because I miss her. I still love her. I don’t know if I ever loved Mike.”
She grabbed some tissues and stood. “Now I’m going to make ice cream. The sunflower blend should be ready for mix-ins.”
I took a deep breath. This was a lot of emotional truth for one day. I needed an ice cream cone.
As Caroline started working, I grabbed a waffle cone and stuffed it with cherry vanilla ice cream. Buzzy’s cherry vanilla used black cherries that she’d candied in sugar, lemon juice, and a touch of almond extract. I sprinkled slivered almonds on top and took a bite. Heaven. I sat at Buzzy’s desk in the office and gobbled it down.
Sitting at a desk made me think of my librarian job back in D.C. I loved my work but had been itching for a change. That’s why I’d taken on my undercover work and even after that, for several years, I’d spent more and more time wishing to travel. I weighed the commuting and stress of life in Washington, D.C., against the peaceful beauty of Penniman and the chance to spend more time with Dad. This was my chance to make a change—for good. I took a deep breath and called my supervisor at the library.
The conversation wasn’t comfortable, but we worked it out. She didn’t want to lose me, but I gave notice and asked her to send the paperwork. As I hung up, I felt lighter than I had in years.
Just then, I heard a harsh grinding noise. Caroline shouted, “Help!”
I darted into the workroom. In a repeat of yesterday’s disaster, ice cream mixture spilled from the machine as Caroline hit the unresponsive on/off button on the chute. I slung a tub toward her, then yanked the power cord.
“Thanks. Look, it’s not chilling properly either.” Caroline swirled the runny vanilla mixture in the tub.
“I hope it’s under warranty.” Back to the Rolodex, where I found the number for the ice cream supply company. They promised to send a repairman tomorrow between nine and five.
Thanks for narrowing that down. I bit my tongue. With four days until the festival, they’d better be able to fix the machine. Nothing I could do about it now. I had to focus on something I could control.
I remembered Buzzy’s note on the calendar. Darwin had promised baby goats for the petting pen on Sunday afternoon. I needed some animals for Saturday, the biggest day of the festival.
I flipped through the cards of Buzzy’s Rolodex and phoned Magic Minis. “I’d like to see if I can book some of your ponies for this Saturday afternoon, please?”
A woman’s voice rasped, “They’re not ponies. They’re miniature horses.”
“I stand corrected.”
“Hold please, I’ll check the schedule.” She put me on hold and came back a few seconds later. “Lady Mirabelle and Bob can squeeze you in from two to four in the afternoon.”
“Perfect.”
Good thing Lady Mirabelle and Bob could stay for only two hours because the price she quoted made my toes curl.
I remembered that Caroline had mentioned a Facebook page for the shop. I opened Buzzy’s laptop and realized I didn’t know her password. I flipped through the Rolodex. On a card labeled Password, I found “ABC123.” Good grief.
The shop’s social media needed updating. I found some photos of Lady Mirabelle and Bob and posted them to our page, and before I signed off had ten Likes.
I walked into the deep freezer to check inventory. We were low on so many flavors.
Everything would be okay if I could get the machine fixed on time … and if we made ice cream nonstop between now and the festival. I took a deep breath, the chilled air adding another uncomfortable jolt.
I needed more staff, especially staff that would work for free. Pru said interns from the farm would work the counter during the festival, but I didn’t trust them to make ice cream. Did I know someone who was a good cook and might work for free?
Paulette. My Stepford stepmother. I started to call her but considered. This favor was best asked in person, with my dad nearby. She’d say no to me, but not in front of Dad.
I told Caroline my plans to see Angelica and Paulette, then go to the land trust meeting. She nodded. “We’re fine here and don’t worry, I’ll go check on Rocky at dinnertime.”
I stepped outside into a warm, sunny, perfect afternoon. The parking lot was full. Cheerful crowds thronged rows of sunflowers taking pictures, enjoying the views across the rolling hills, and gathered around the farm stand where the interns sold organic herbs and vegetables.
As I headed up the hill I saw Flo at the stand buying a quart of tomatoes, and I hurried over to her.
“Flo, did the police question you about the night of Mike’s murder?”
“Yes, they came to the house. Donna’s too.” At my puzzled look, she said, “Donna Danforth.” Ah, yes, Dandy. “But none of us saw anything that night. We all go to bed early.”
“What about Aaron the Hermit?”
She shrugged. “Don’t see him much, only driving by or when he walks his dachshund, McGillicuddy. But we’d have heard if the police had arrested him.”
Pru waved me over to the kitchen garden.
“What is it, Pru?”
“Darwin’s back,” she whispered. “The police let him go.”
I gave her a hug. “I’m so glad. What happened?”
She turned worried eyes toward the red barn behind the house. “He wouldn’t say much. He’s fixing the tractor down in the barn.”
“I’m going to talk to him,” I said.
Just then my phone buzzed. Caroline. “I just heard that Darwin’s back. Is it true?”
“Yes, but—”
Caroline hung up, and moments later she ran from the shop. When she reached us, she was out of breath and holding her side.
Pru put a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Just out of shape.” Caroline dashed ahead. I ran after her and easily caught up. We stopped at the entrance to the barn where Darwin bent over a tractor engine.
Caroline caught her breath. “Darwin.”
Part of me wondered how truthful Darwin would be with Caroline.
His blue cotton shirt was open at the collar and he brushed sweat off his forehead as he faced us. “I guess you heard where I’ve been.”
I looked to Caroline, and she nodded. This was now about the two of them.
“Someone told the police that they’d seen me up at the Love Nest. It’s true. I—” He walked over to us, wiping his hands on a rag, his voice soft. “I’m sorry, Caroline, sorry I didn’t talk to you. I was so angry about Mike wanting to develop the farm.
“I swear I didn’t see Mike that night. I never opened the door to the Love Nest and I never went into the barn. But someone driving by saw me leaving.” He flung the rag to the ground and folded his arms. “I know how bad it makes me look.” His forearms bulged with muscle. I couldn’t help but flash to the pitchfork used to kill Mike, how easily I’d seen Darwin yield one, how strong farm work had made him.
“Do you remember the kind of car?” I said.
He shook his head and gave me a wry smile. “You sound like the cops, Riley.”
“I watch too many TV shows.” I tried to keep my tone light, but my mind reeled. Means. Motive. Opportunity. Darwin had all three.
My heart constricted as I considered all he had to lose: twenty years of work on the farm, twenty years building the internship program. Everything.
Something inside me sh
ifted. Pru’s confusion and sadness were so palpable, so naked. They’d been married so long. If Darwin had killed Mike, would she cover for him?
“I believe you, Darwin. I know you’d never hurt Mike.” Caroline gave him a hug. Darwin’s face crumpled as he fought for control of his emotions. He patted Caroline’s back and managed to whisper, “Thank you, Caroline.”
I lowered my eyes, hoping they wouldn’t notice my apprehension. Caroline might’ve decided Darwin was innocent, but I was sure the police still considered him a suspect.
Chapter 18
Caroline returned to the shop and I dashed up the hill to the farmhouse, composing my face, willing myself to show Willow none of the tangled emotions Darwin’s words had evoked. I found her sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, dangling a toy mouse for Rocky to stalk. Sprinkles sprawled on a plush sheepskin-covered cat bed, watching.
Rocky pounced on the toy, but his little paws slipped on the linoleum floor and he tumbled. He righted himself and went right back at the toy.
“The mighty hunter.” I said.
“I love this little guy. I’m sorry I have to go.” With a sigh, Willow set down the toy, sprang to her feet, and gathered her things.
“Thank you so much for watching them, Willow.”
“I’ll cat sit any time.” Willow headed to the door but stopped with her hand on the knob. “Though Sprinkles is getting weird. She keeps meowing at the toilet. See you tomorrow!” She waved and dashed down the stairs.
My smile faded as I imagined Willow’s distress when she found out her dad had been questioned by the police. Poor kid.
The thought of Darwin in jail, what it would do to Willow and Pru, was too much to contemplate.
I dug into one of the boxes of my old stuff and found a plain white T-shirt and a pale green cotton cardigan. Blues and greens were good colors for me—they worked with my black hair and green eyes. This was lucky because I’d gone through an Irish phase when I was in high school and had a lot of green sweaters.
I dug up a pair of travel pants that were still presentable, barely, and brushed my hair.