by Ellen Riggs
“Not till my lesson is over,” Jilly said, giving me a significant glance.
“Of course,” I said, realizing she was probably doing a little questioning of her own. “Pastry before pasture.”
“This fancy meat pie had better be good,” Neal said. “Because kitchen and barn chores weren’t on your list of resort activities.”
“It’s all part of the farm experience I promised,” I said. “Plus, I have good news. Chief Harper gave us permission to go to the Clover Grove Harvest Fair tonight. It’s a big deal around here.”
Neal rolled his eyes. “A fair. Wow. I can hardly wait.”
“There are rides,” I said, remembering his interest in theme parks. “Good ones. They’ve hired one of the best travelling midways in the country and split the bill with Dorset Hills. If it’s thrills you want, Neal, you’ll get your chance tonight.”
“We’d better eat early,” Jilly said. “Or it’ll be a sad waste of tortière.”
“I can’t handle more than a merry-go-round anymore,” Paulette said.
All of the other women chimed in with agreement.
“I guess it’s just you and me, Ben,” Neal said.
Ben laughed. “I exceed the size requirements on most rides. They can’t strap me in properly. Getting flung off a roller coaster is more thrill than I can handle.”
I signaled Keats and started backing toward the door. “Save me a piece of the fancy meat pie, folks. I’ve got to run into town on some errands.”
Jilly gave me another “you owe me” look and I just shrugged. My tab with her was higher than I could repay in a lifetime, so there was nothing to do but love her hard and thank her often. Best friends like her were harder to find than a needle in a haystack. I knew someone was looking out for me the day we met. I just wished that same someone would stop dropping murders in our path to test us.
Outside, I stared at the truck for a moment. Kellan’s message had been loud and clear, but who knew when a mild-mannered sedan might arrive. I couldn’t be without wheels in the meantime, so I’d have to shoot into town and get back here before he arrived.
The truck itself seemed to have settled just from being under Kellan’s control for a while. It didn’t stall once on the way into town and Keats relaxed a little. I rolled down the window for him and he stuck his nose out.
“Life is still good, buddy,” I said. “There’s never a dull moment, but you like that.” He swept his tail in an affirmative, brushing a little flour off my coat sleeve. “I’m starting to wonder if I do, too. I mean, I came home for tranquility but maybe I’d have been bored. After all the stress at Flordale, I’m probably an adrenaline junkie now. That said, murder is more adrenaline than I can handle ever again.”
His tail swept harder and I marveled as always at his capacity to understand me, or at least the intent of my words. There was no denying our ability to communicate got stronger by the day. Although it felt downright magical to me, I knew border collies were bred to read the subtlest signs from both their handlers and their herd. Keats wasn’t even looking at me so I guessed my intonation or energy gave him the cues he needed to look like the most intuitive dog on the planet.
Musing about my relationship with Keats calmed me, and that showed in my ability to handle the truck. I travelled through town without the hippity-hop that usually drew attention to me. Today my truck was just like any of the other black trucks on the main drag.
Just the same, I left the pickup in the parking lot at the grocery store and walked the rest of the way to the Summit Hotel in case Kellan happened to drive by, as he so conveniently managed to do. I’d forgotten to tell him what Edna had said about the hotel, which he would say I conveniently managed to do. It would probably turn out to be nothing, and I’d have saved him a trip.
The small hotel wasn’t on the summit of anything, but I couldn’t blame the new owner for wanting to exploit the best marketing angle. I’d have to do the same once the Flordale crew left and I was looking for new guests. I didn’t expect them to fall into my lap, especially with the farm’s recent history.
I walked up the broad front staircase and into the small-but-classy foyer. Chantelle Blaise had spent a lot refurbishing what used to be a medical office in an old mansion. The mansion itself had belonged to one of Clover Grove’s founding families and there’d been a scuffle with the County over whether to designate it a heritage site. Filthy commerce won out, and Chantelle probably had to make some big promises for that to happen. Politics in Glover Grove were still relatively clean but everything got more complicated as the town grew.
Pinging the bell on the old oak desk in the foyer, I whispered to Keats, “Best behavior, okay? Both of us.”
A woman with classic features and dark hair in a smooth knot pushed open a door and joined us. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
The French accent Edna had mocked was almost undetectable and sounded more Quebecois than France itself. “Just having a word with my dog. I didn’t want him embarrassing me in your lovely hotel.”
Keats shot me a look as if to say I was more likely to embarrass him, which was so true that I couldn’t help smiling. Luckily, Chantelle smiled back, instead of giving me the “crazy lady” look that so often came my way in town.
“He’s a lovely dog,” she said, introducing herself and offering her hand over the counter. “Keats, I believe?”
My eyes widened. “How did you know? I hope people aren’t talking about us all over town.”
“Not at all,” she said, laughing. “I overheard a guest talking about Runaway Farm and the dog’s name came up.” She leaned in. “I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping but there was no one else in the lounge at the time and it was hard to miss. Plus, you were on my radar as we’re both new to the hospitality sector in Clover Grove.”
“We are the hospitality sector, I guess. Other than the Have a Nap Motel and a few bed and breakfasts.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to meet you so we could share our experience. I’m new here, and I know you’re new again.”
“It would be great to talk shop, Chantelle. I feel overwhelmed by the whole thing sometimes, especially with all that’s happened. I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“You’ve had a rough start,” she said, nodding. “But in a few months, that will all be a grim memory. I hope we both have a constant full house by spring.”
“Come out to the farm in a few weeks and I’ll show you around,” I said. “My best friend, Jilly, is an amazing cook.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” she said. “The grapevine is quite something around here.”
“It sure is. That’s why I’m here, actually. Someone mentioned seeing a red Corvette outside four days ago, which is a day before my guests arrived. My former boss, Wilf Darby, drove a red Corvette. I’m sure there are other cars like that around but it seemed like a coincidence.”
Chantelle picked up a pen and started doodling on a notepad. Her eyes flicked up at me and then away. “I need to respect the privacy of my guests, Ivy. You know how it is.”
“Privacy’s been hard to come by since Wilf died,” I said. “The police are prying into my guests’ lives and my own. All I want to do is help get to the bottom of this quickly so that people can go home and forget their farm experience ever happened. As you can imagine, my reputation has taken quite a hit from this.”
Her face creased with sympathy, and Keats confirmed the sentiment was sincere by fanning the white tip of his tail. He was a master of fraud detection, and Chantelle passed his sniff test.
“There was a red Corvette here,” she said. “The driver parked at the paid lot down the street, but he dropped off a guest twice and spent some time here with her.”
My HR mask dropped into place. Showing too much interest often stopped the flow of valuable information. “Do you think it was my boss?” I asked. “Big guy, kind of chubby, with thinning blond hair and a ruddy complexion?”
“Sounds about right
.” I could tell she was uncomfortable. The pressure of her pen on the notepad almost tore the paper.
“If it helps, I know Wilf was seeing someone,” I said. “He told me about the split with his wife while I was working for him. I’m guessing he brought a lady friend to enjoy some romantic drives between the teambuilding activities at the farm.”
“They did go on a nice drive,” she said, brightening. “I told them the best routes for fall leaves and they seemed happy when they came back.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “I’m truly glad Wilf found some moments of joy before… what happened. Is his lady friend alright?”
Now the paper did rip under Chantelle’s pen. “I don’t think so. My chef told her the gossip yesterday at breakfast and she left her meal untouched. She was out most of the day and I’m afraid she cried during the night.”
“Is she here now?” I asked. “Maybe she’d like to reminisce about Wilf with me. There are stories from our work travels she’s never heard. He was quite a character.”
Chantelle shook her head. “She left again this morning without eating, I’m afraid.”
“On foot?” I asked. “Any idea where she went?”
She tore the sheet off her notepad and crumpled it. “I heard she spent some time on the patio at the Berry Good Café yesterday. You might try there. She’s petite and blonde, and last I saw, wore sunglasses inside and out.”
“Thank you,” I said, as Keats trotted ahead of me to the door. “I promise I’ll reveal nothing you’ve told me. You can hold me to that, because with our small hospitality sector, we need to have each other’s back.”
“Good luck, Ivy,” she called. “With everything.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leaving the Summit Hotel, I wove through the surprisingly heavy foot traffic on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful day and people had come out in droves to enjoy it. We all knew how long and bleak a winter here could be. The rolling hills sheltered Clover Grove from the worst of it, but they seemed to act as a shield to spring, too.
Keats usually walked beside me like a normal dog when we were in town and I didn’t need to leash him. Today he picked up on my impatience, however, and tried to herd me through the crowd to the café. He circled in front of me, created some space, then eased behind me to push me forward before that gap closed. It worked all right, if you didn’t mind being treated like livestock. I had enough on my mind that it was a bit of a relief to leave the navigating to him. That left me free to wonder about Wilf’s affair. It must have been serious if the woman had cried all night. I suppressed a shudder. Wilf had been repulsive to me in every way. His faded football star looks could never make up for his flawed personality. But like my mom always said, there’s a lid for every pot.
When we reached the café, I walked down the alley to the patio. With a jacket to shield against the breeze, you could sit outside, and if I were grieving, I’d want to be away from the crowd.
There was only one woman out there, and her blonde hair and sunglasses fit Chantelle’s description. She was sitting in the corner seat where Kellan and I had bickered while sharing a scone a month ago. The table held bad memories because that’s where he threatened to seize Keats from me if I didn’t back away from his investigation into the dogcatcher’s death. We’d moved far enough past that now I could almost convince myself he wouldn’t mind if I had a little chat with Wilf’s girlfriend. Almost.
The woman turned to look up at me and gasped. “Ivy!”
“Avis!” I couldn’t think of another thing to say to the woman I’d last seen on the day I literally fled Flordale’s head office during a meeting to announce global downsizing. Avis Arron was a senior vice president of the company and the one who told me I’d need to travel for the better part of a year to downsize hundreds of staff. It was the straw that broke this camel’s back, and ultimately led to my owning several camelids, specifically an alpaca and two llamas.
I stood in the middle of the patio, paralyzed. I wanted to turn and run from her again, but now my farm’s future hung on helping to solve Wilf’s murder. I couldn’t run away from Flordale trouble anymore; I had to run toward it.
Keats brushed against my leg to give me courage, and somehow my boots—the ones caked in manure, since Edna still had my good ones—carried me the last few yards. My mouth had dried up, however, so I simply obeyed her gesture to sit down across from her. I was used to obeying Avis’ wishes, even if they came through Wilf’s lips.
“I heard about what happened,” she said. “It was terrible news for Flordale. I’ve been on the phone with the president and executive ever since.”
I stared at her, trying to make sense of her presence here. Maybe Chantelle and I were wrong about their being in a relationship. It was quite possible Avis and Wilf were staging a coup that was better planned away from head office. There were always schemes afoot at the senior levels and grunts like me took the fallout.
But that wouldn’t explain the crying Chantelle heard in the night. And it wouldn’t explain Avis’ chapped, red nose.
Tapping my temple, I said, “You’ve got something right here. It looks like dried blood.”
She lifted her glasses quickly and scratched at the spot I’d indicated, revealing bloodshot, puffy eyes. “Gone?” she asked, dropping the glasses.
“Gone,” I said. “Avis, it’s obvious you’re heartbroken over Wilf’s passing, and I’m sorry for your loss. I was aware he was in a new relationship. I just didn’t know it was with you.”
Shoving the shades up on top of her exquisitely highlighted hair, she stared at me with fierce blue eyes. “I know what you think of him, Ivy. But that wasn’t the man I knew. He treated me like a queen.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I said, waving the waiter away. Avis still had tea in her big mug and I couldn’t swallow a thing if I tried. “I’m sure there was a side to him that we never saw. And I’m truly glad he found happiness after his divorce.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line and she twisted the diamond eternity band on her left hand. “We were going to make it official after his paperwork was done,” she said eventually. “I have teenage children, so I wasn’t in a rush to disrupt their lives.” She took the band off and set it by her phone. “Now I won’t have to, I guess.”
“Did your husband know, Avis?”
“No, we were always very discreet. Why?”
Driving around in a red Corvette seemed the opposite of discreet, but I didn’t contradict her. “I’m helping the police figure out what might have happened to Wilf.”
Her blue eyes grew frosty. “Your cow kicked him in the head and broke my heart. That’s what happened.”
“My cows are innocent and that will be proven in time. The forensic team suspects Wilf was dead before he was kicked.”
She hooked the ring with her index finger and spun it in little circles. “That’s impossible. Wilf hadn’t an enemy in the world.”
“Oh Avis,” I said. “You may be grieving, but you’re a smart woman—smart enough to be Flordale’s first female senior VP. So you know Wilf had plenty of enemies. One of them might be your husband if he knew Wilf was threatening your happy family.”
“He didn’t know. And no one at Flordale knew.”
“That’s almost never true, no matter how discreet you think you are. I saw literally dozens of affairs exposed over my decade in HR. For Wilf, the VP of HR, getting caught in a relationship with his superior would be a career killer.”
“Untrue,” she said, snapping her glasses back down on her nose. “It’s only a problem when the man is in the senior position. It could hardly be said that he exploited me.”
“I doubt the president would see it that way. Regardless, one of you would have been asked to leave the company, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know everything, Ivy Galloway,” she said. “We had a plan and it would have worked out just fine if your cows hadn’t stomped all over it.”
“Let’s assume the police are righ
t and it wasn’t my cows,” I said. “Who else might have ended Wilf’s life?”
Lifting her glasses again, she tried to intimidate me with the executive stare. “I heard your mother threatened him. How about you interrogate her?”
Now I smiled. “Trust me, I did. And the police did, too. How about the other members of my team?” I shook my head. “My former team. I can’t believe any of them would be capable of such a thing.”
She gave a huffy sigh. “If it comes to that, all of them probably had motive, including you. That’s because you misjudged Wilf. He just wanted the best for the company and you took it so personally. Wilf and I were totally committed to Flordale. Meanwhile, the second you heard you’d have to deliver bad news for the company, you bolted. I was so disappointed in you. It was terribly unprofessional.”
A mixture of fury and shame percolated in my gut but my mask was locked in place. “You were thinking about the company, whereas I was thinking about the staff I’d have to fire. The lives I’d have to ruin. You do know Wilf called me the grim reaper, right? Avis, I just couldn’t do that anymore. It was a personal decision.”
Her hand left the ring and gave a dismissive wave. “All of you were constantly whining. Ben Miller complained about bullying—as if anyone could bully a giant. The two that look like birds of prey complained about harassment—as if Wilf could ever be interested in them. And then there was the bubble gum popper who wobbled around in tight leather and griped because she wasn’t promoted fast enough. Optics are everything if you want to be taken seriously as a woman in a man’s world.” She smoothed her hair. “You understood that. I always respected your professionalism… until your breakdown. And over a dog, no less.”
She looked at said dog and he stared back. Something startled her, and she pushed her chair back. Keats never moved a muscle.
“What about Neal and Paulette?” I asked. “You’ve lumped everyone else into the category of suspects.”