Dark Side of the Moo (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 2)

by Ellen Riggs

  “What was he doing out there alone?”

  “He wasn’t alone. Keep watching.”

  I moved slowly through the barn to the far side as I watched the small screen. Finally I gasped even louder. “It’s Piers Frankel. The president of Flordale, my old company. What were they doing?”

  There was a sigh at the other end. “Talking. I only wish we’d rolled sound. You can be sure we’ll update our setup. In the meantime, I can tell you they didn’t chat long before the alarm sent them running like the chow had come to life. The foliage is thin enough to see them drive off in a black Porsche. Watching them clamber over each other to get into that dinky car was the best laugh I’ve had in a while. The weaselly guy actually tried to drive and the old guy slapped him away.”

  I clicked stop on the video. “I’ll save the laugh for later. I’m going to need it.”

  “Yeah,” Cori said. “I got this to you as fast as I could because we’re as anxious as you are to make sure that farm and the animals are safe. Keep me posted, okay? And we’ll be out as soon as we can.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “It’s really such a thrill—”

  “Ivy? I hate suck-ups,” Cori said. “You need to know that.” Keats’ tail waved harder to let me know she was joking. “Tell the dog I’m not joking,” she added, laughing as she hung up.

  I turned and scanned the barn with new eyes. It felt like I’d been formally initiated into a fabulous secret club where my admitted idiosyncrasies might not only be accepted but valued.

  Suddenly the place felt a lot more like home.

  “Where have you been?” Jilly asked, when I finally went inside. “Kellan left ages ago.”

  “I know, but then I had to send him more information and explain how I got it.” I pulled her into the kitchen and whispered the story. “He’s coming out later to talk to Neal again. We need to do something to keep these people busy, Jilly. Nerves are fraying, mine included.”

  She nodded. “Keats is the only one enjoying this party.” Holding up a finger, she said, “Party! Right? Let’s do a theme party for dinner. I’ll see what I have in the pantry and get people to vote on the theme.”

  “What are you two scheming about?”

  Jilly and I both jumped as Neal joined us. I felt Keats move into position directly on my feet. His hackles had lifted and his tail drifted down. His ears were still upright and forward, however, so while Neal was getting a failing grade, he hadn’t been relegated to the scrap heap quite yet. If Neal had killed Wilf, Keats wasn’t fully convinced yet.

  “A theme party,” Jilly said, barely missing a beat. “Black tie, maybe. Or beach. Or zombie apocalypse, complete with makeup.” Her shoulders straightened and she tossed her curls. “This is going to be amazing.”

  Neal groaned. “I’m not into theme parties, only theme parks.”

  As Jilly started rummaging in cupboards I slid onto a stool at the counter and patted the one beside me. “I know you used your vacations to visit parks around the world. What’s your favorite?”

  His face brightened and it was quite possibly the first time I’d seen him with a truly genuine smile since he arrived. “Six Flags in Jackson, New Jersey. Tallest roller coaster in the world. It’s called Kingda Ka.” He pulled out his phone. “Want to see pics?”

  “Sure.” Keats had managed to slide under the footrest of the stool and perched between my feet. I knew this meant he was uncomfortable. In fact, he’d done pretty much the same thing when I encountered the dogcatcher’s murderer. Still, I wasn’t nervous because Jilly was poking around in the pantry nearby and Kellan would be along later. I leaned over Neal’s phone and gasped, “Oh my god, Neal. What is wrong with you?”

  He cackled like a madman during the zombie apocalypse. “Tricked you.”

  The video he’d cued up was taken during the plummet from what seemed like mountainous heights. He knew better than anyone how I felt about rides. Even seeing it in a small frame made my stomach heave. Pushing the phone away, I said, “Moving on.”

  He regaled me with his greatest roller coaster hits in excruciating detail, and I pretended to listen while watching Jilly weigh her party options. Finally she went into the family room, presumably to consult the guests on their preferred theme.

  “I’d show you my photo albums, but they’re on my laptop,” he said.

  “Guaranteed to make me barf,” I said. “No thanks. It’s enough to hear about them.”

  That apparently inspired him to persist, because he jumped off the stool. “Seriously, you’re going to love this. I have a social media site with my ratings and recommendations.” His smile became almost bashful. “I’ve got a bit of a reputation for expertise in this area.”

  The former HR exec in me silently whispered, Keep him talking. People who talk too much reveal too much.

  “Well, okay. I do like hearing from experts about anything. But I can’t handle more than two roller coaster videos, so pick your finest.”

  Neal didn’t wait for me to change my mind and hurried upstairs.

  His phone was still on the counter, and when I leaned over to check out his photo gallery, I saw something interesting.

  Very interesting.

  “Keats, follow Neal,” I said. “Keep him up there as long as you can.”

  I got off my stool as the dog darted away. Grabbing Neal’s phone, I slipped into the pantry, a small room stocked with everything Jilly might need for any spur-of-the-moment party.

  Shutting the door, I leaned against it. I checked the date on the video I’d seen and then pressed play.

  Neal’s voice rang out, and my heart pounded until I realized it was coming from the phone in my hand. Fumbling for the volume controls, I turned it down and held the phone closer to my face so I could hear without being overheard.

  My heart didn’t slow down for long though, as I realized I was watching Wilf Darby’s last night unfold on the phone. I could tell Neal had been standing just outside the barn door and filming as Ben struggled with Wilf near the cow pen. Ben was wearing a hoodie and track pants, while Wilf’s pajamas and robe looked much the worse for wear.

  “I put you to bed,” Ben said, grappling with Wilf, who was indeed acting like a slippery hippo. He pretended to be boneless and slid out of Ben’s grasp to land on the floor. “You’re still drunk, Wilf. You can’t drive to town like this.”

  “I’ve got a date,” Wilf slurred. “She’s expecting me.”

  “Too bad. You’ve smucked Ivy’s truck and you’re not going anywhere.” Ben tried to haul Wilf off the floor and failed. “She’s not going to be happy.”

  “Good. She left me. She left us. They always do, Ben. You’re going to find that out for yourself soon.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ben said. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Still on the ground, Wilf stared up at Ben. “I know about your secret affair. I never thought you had it in you.”

  “What?” Ben looked perplexed. “There’s no secret affair. The only person in the department having an affair is you.”

  Rolling onto his hands and knees, Wilf tried to push himself up and fell over again. “Not true, not true,” he said, laughing. “I’ve got the goods on ya. A digital file with your name on it. Hangman’s coming for me, big buddy, and I’ll take you down too.”

  “Wilf, all I care about is getting you back up to your room so you don’t hurt yourself or the animals.”

  “I came to this farm to milk a cow and I’m not leaving before I do it,” Wilf said.

  Ben looked at the camera. “Could you get over here and help, Neal? This is a five-man operation but two will have to do.”

  “I’ll fire you both while I still can,” Wilf said. “You for using company equipment to exchange love notes, and him for double-dealing.” He wagged a finger at Neal. “I don’t care who you’ve got on your side. As soon as I get Ivy back on board, you’re both gone. I think she hired losers to make herself look good.”

  “You hired
me,” Neal said. The camera shook a little, either because he was furious or amused.

  Wilf swore again. “Just get out of here, both of you. I need time alone.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” Ben said. “You’re going to hurt or get hurt. Now get up or I’ll drag you back to the house by your feet. Don’t think I can’t, Wilf.”

  “Don’t think I can’t kick your pretty face while you try,” Wilf said.

  “Neal, can you film Wilf getting dragged by his feet?” Ben said. “We can share it with his lady. Get a shot of the dinged Corvette on the way by. She’ll be super impressed with that, too.”

  Ben and Wilf stared at each other for a moment and then Wilf started to scramble to his feet. Grabbing his boss by the scruff, Ben swung him around to face the door.

  That’s when I noticed Keats milling around their feet. He was darting in and out, just as he had with Kellan earlier. Only this time it wasn’t a game. His ears were back and he meant business. My heart raced faster, forgetting that I already knew my boy was alright.

  “Bug off, dog,” Wilf said. “I’ll kick you to high heaven.”

  It was an idle threat since Wilf couldn’t coordinate his feet to walk, let alone land a kick.

  Ben gave up on Wilf’s ability to propel himself and half carried his boss toward the barn door. Meanwhile Neal was backing away, leaving Wilf and Ben framed against the light in the doorway.

  “There you have it, Piers,” Neal whispered into the phone. “The whole department’s a train wreck. I’m not going anywhere without the biggest buyout Flordale’s ever seen.”

  The video finished and I quickly swiped to the home screen and slipped out of the pantry. In real-time, Neal was bellowing my name from upstairs.

  “Call off your stupid dog, Ivy, or I’ll knock him down the stairs.”

  “Keats,” I called. “Come here.”

  The dog was down in a flash, and I was back on the stool, with the phone in place, before Neal arrived, flushed, with his laptop under his arm.

  “If he nips me again, so help me, I’ll…” He met my eyes and backed down. “That dog has a death wish.”

  “Says the man who travels the world riding roller coasters,” I said. “Now, bring on your worst.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  One thing I never really wanted to see was my colleagues in swimwear—especially in my living room in October. Nevertheless, I’d proposed a beach party that evening, basically overruling Jilly’s decision to go with the black tie theme. The men looked relieved and Nellie was actually excited when I told them about the change of plans. She’d packed a bikini after hearing there was a sauna on the farm, when in reality, the closest body of water was the old well that had played a starring role in the dogcatcher’s murder investigation. Everyone except Nellie needed help in the costume department.

  “A beach party? Why?” Jilly asked, when I joined her in the kitchen where she was already assembling classy canapes.

  “Just trust me,” I said. “It’ll be casual and fun. Think burgers and salads. We’ll put on the Beach Boys and dance later.” I started humming the song, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.”

  “Ivy, are you on something?” She started putting frozen shrimp and puff pastry back in the freezer. “I am not wearing a bikini inside in October.”

  “I’m not wearing a bikini ever.” I adjusted the shoulder straps on my overalls. “A farmer in a bikini could never be taken seriously. And you can’t accuse me of being stoned every time I come up with a good idea. The Flordale people haven’t turned me to drugs. Yet.”

  “Then what’s going on?” she asked. “Is this something Kellan would want to know about?”

  “I regret that he wouldn’t care at all about my swimwear choices,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s not true,” she said. “He’s human, and he’s male. I’m sure he’d quite enjoy seeing you flip burgers on the back deck in scraps of fabric.”

  “First… never going to happen. And second… you don’t want me charring the food. So I’ll take care of picking up a festive cake and some sparklers, when I grab the costumes.”

  Jilly glanced at the big clock on the wall. “The stores close in an hour. Where are you going to find costumes now?”

  “I happen to know someone with built-in closets full of crazy get-ups.”

  “Just tell me you’ll make it back for dinner,” she said. “Otherwise, I swear I’ll hitch a ride back to Boston with the Flordale crew… never to step foot on Runaway Farm again.”

  “Jilly, I want us to grow old here together. Picture it: two quirky old ladies with so many animals they don’t know what to do.” I smirked as I gathered my coat, purse and car keys. Keats had been waiting by the door for nearly 15 minutes—before my plan was even fully formed. “I won’t jeopardize that dream, I promise.”

  “Aim a little higher,” she said, snapping a dish towel at me. “But I promise we’ll still talk every day.”

  “A beach party? Surely you can come up with a better idea than that, Ivy,” Mom said, ushering Keats and me into her small second bedroom that was lined on three sides with closets. She didn’t qualify as a hoarder, per se, because the place was neat and carefully organized. But she did have way too much stuff and an emotional attachment to some of it that defied logic. Normal people didn’t treat a 10-year-old secondhand dress like a treasured pet. Mom remembered exactly where she found it, what she paid, how she altered it and every event at which the dress had appeared. She kept notes to make sure she didn’t wear the same outfit twice with the same people. I’d heard royal families did the same thing.

  “A beach party is exactly what we need to lift everyone’s spirits,” I said. “Lighthearted summertime fun. I got sparklers and sangria and we can light a bonfire later.”

  “You’ll need a fire if you’re going to be socializing in bathing suits.” She pursed her lips. “Ivy, I don’t think this is entirely professional. How are these people going to take you seriously in meetings when they can imagine you practically naked?” She gave me a critical onceover. “Although I daresay it would be an improvement over what you’re wearing.”

  Mom was in a silvery knit dress and heels with a full face of makeup. No doubt she was on her way out with a gentleman, but I wasn’t going to ask.

  “If you’re still laboring under the delusion that I’m going back to work for Flordale, I repeat that it will never happen.” I bent over the drawer she opened and started pulling things out. “I plan to get carried off the farm in a pine box, with all the livestock yelling goodbye.” I looked up at her. “Why on earth do you have men’s swim trunks in here?”

  I wasn’t actually surprised. In fact, I’d counted on it.

  She gave me a coy smile. “Wayne down the road has a hot tub. That’s all I need to say.”

  “It most certainly is.” One pair had a zebra print and the other leopard. I could hardly wait to see Ben and Neal prance around in those—especially since they were too big for Neal and too small for Ben.

  I selected a sarong, and some bathing suits and shorts for the other women.

  “Take sundresses,” Mom said, pulling out a few hangers. “Much more appropriate for a work function.”

  “I need people showing flesh,” I said, trying to block the image out of my mind.

  “I disagree,” she said. “It’s better not to mix business with pleasure. For all my liberal attitudes, that’s something I never did.” She carefully spread the sundresses on the bed so they wouldn’t wrinkle. “You can imagine it was a challenge given how often I changed jobs.”

  “I bet you sometimes changed jobs so that you could date a colleague,” I said, starting to stuff items into my bag.

  She offered another coy smile that vanished fast as I manhandled her treasures. “Be careful with my things, please.”

  “If your things aren’t pristine when they come back, I’ll drive you anywhere you like to replenish,” I said.

  “I’m not getting into that truck. It’s covered
in dog hair.” She looked down at Keats and he fanned his white plume. No matter how she felt about him, he quite liked her. “Don’t try to flirt with me, mister. You’ve stolen my sweet baby girl and replaced her with this crazy farmer.”

  “Love you too, Mom,” I said, heading for the door.

  “What will Kellan say about all this?” she asked. “He won’t want you cutting a rug with that gorgeous giant. Although I’m sure the little weasel doesn’t stand a chance with you. We Galloway women have standards.”

  I paused at the door. “You don’t approve of Kellan anyway.”

  “Of course I do.” She shook her head as if I were dense. “But I can’t just hand my best daughter over on a silver platter. He needs to earn you first. So far, he hasn’t made nearly enough effort.”

  “That’s because he isn’t interested anymore.” I leaned over to kiss her cheek and almost choked on perfume. “Water under the bridge.”

  “Oh, Ivy.” She rested elegant fingers on still-slim hips. “I may not understand corporate politics, but I have an advanced degree in men. So you can trust me when I say that our chief of police is merely biding his time before making his move. Like me, he’s probably concerned you’re crazy.” She held the door open as I tried to close it. “But here’s a secret, sweetheart: men like a hint of crazy. It keeps them guessing.”

  “Keep it up and I might vomit in your hallway, Mom.”

  There was something oddly reassuring about the disgusted look she gave me through the crack in the door. Maybe I needed to see that everything was normal in one sector of my life when it was so abnormal everywhere else.

  “Don’t you dare, Ivy Galloway. I expect my things to come back dry cleaned, pressed and without a single dog hair.” She peered down at Keats. “Do you hear me, handsome?”

  “Handsome?” I said, grinning. “Careful, buddy. A place must have opened up on her rotation.”

  I didn’t get to slam the door because Mom pushed it shut on me first.