by Ellen Riggs
And now he wanted an exclusive tour of my farm. Well, Piers Frankel used to be top dog in my corporate life, but here at Runaway Farm, I was top dog and I had a great dog backing me. I could do this.
I patted the bulky front pocket of my bibbed overalls to make sure my phone was there. It had become a repository for everything I might need during the day, from a leash to sunglasses, making my outfit of choice even less flattering.
“Let’s start with the barn,” I said, pulling out my old corporate team player smile.
“Must we?” he said. “My shoes… They’re Italian leather.”
“Don’t say that in front of the cows,” I said, before realizing how it sounded. “Oops. That’s nothing to joke about after what happened to Wilf. I’m sorry, Mr. Frankel.”
“Call me Piers,” he said. “And it’s okay, Ivy. I heard you got hit on the head, too.”
“I do blurt things out sometimes, I’m afraid.” I led him in through the wide double doors. “Your shoes should be fine. Charlie’s already mucked out. That said, my animals produce constantly. Did you know that there’s money in manure, Mr. Frankel? I’m thinking of starting a Runaway Farm black label. But manure management can’t be taken lightly. There’s an art to it.”
He turned and his pale eyes widened at my nervous babbling. “You were always so reticent, Ivy.”
“Guess it’s that fresh country air.” More like past trauma. In just a few months the memories of my misery at Flordale had faded considerably but they rushed back now. He was there the day Avis Arron told me I had to do the mass firings. He witnessed my epiphany, when I realized I couldn’t be Flordale’s grim reaper anymore. He saw me lay down my metaphorical scythe and bolt.
My breathing was fast and shallow until Keats shoved his head under my left hand. It was like a life buoy and time slowed down again. After a few seconds, he moved out to circle and stare at Piers. The dog was fast, low and definitely uneasy—as if there were a coyote near his sheep pasture.
More like a wolf, because Piers was no scruffy coyote.
I started to introduce Florence, the blind mare, but Piers kept walking, straight through the back door. His eyes were on the floor to preserve his footwear.
Outside, he scanned until he found his target. “There they are: the cows that killed my vice president.”
“They’ve been cleared, sir. The autopsy showed that Wilf was struck and killed by a human, I’m afraid.”
His pale eyes darted to my face. “With what? And by whom? Why am I just hearing about this now?”
As president of a large firm, he was used to being catered to, but it didn’t work that way out here. “The police are under no obligation to keep us posted about their findings, sir. The chief of police was kind enough to share that information this morning. My cows had been unfairly threatened with slaughter by the County, you know.”
His brow furrowed. “You really have suffered impairment, Ivy. What are cows compared to a man’s life?”
I pressed my lips together for a moment to lock my professional filter into the “on” position. “Sir, I’m distraught that someone struck and killed Wilf Darby, and on my property, too. I have no idea who’s behind this terrible crime, or the weapon they used. But I’m confident that our chief of police will resolve the matter quickly.”
He let out a huffy snort and straightened his shoulders. The man knew how to wear the heck out of a suit, I’d give him that.
“It must be a crazed local,” he said. “I know Wilf could be… polarizing. Perhaps he insulted your farmhand?”
“He managed to insult quite a few people during his short time here,” I said. “Wilf was a bulldozer when he’d had a few drinks, unfortunately. I think a few people held grudges against him.”
“Like your mother?” Piers said, with a sly smile.
Keats paused in his circuit and his ruff came up. I quelled him with a glance and a slight movement of my right hand. The last thing I needed was for a powerful man like Piers to take issue with my dog.
“Mr. Frankel, it serves no one to throw accusations around. Obviously, I’m as anxious to have answers as you are. The future of my farm and my new inn hangs in the balance.”
He walked up to the fence securing the cow pasture and crossed his arms over the top rung. “Quite. In fact, it’s time you gave up this foolish notion and came back to the firm, Ivy.”
I took a step backward and my boot landed in a mudpuddle with a splash. It had rained hard overnight but the sun shone now as if Piers had arranged it. “Pardon me?”
“You heard me. I know you needed to make a grand statement and you’ve done that. So it’s time to get back to your real job. We need you at Flordale.”
“Sir, I couldn’t even imagine—”
“Of course you could. We both know this is a negotiation. State your terms.”
“It’s not that at all. I could never—”
“You could always. For the right price. State your terms.”
“There’s nothing that would—”
“There’s always something that would tempt you. Don’t be coy. I assume you’ll want Wilf’s job with a very hefty raise. We’re prepared to accept your request.”
Keats’ head arrived under my left hand and my fingers touched his soft ears, groping for calm. “That’s not my request. I want—”
“I can’t promote you directly to senior vice president. I’m sorry, but it would cause unrest. But I can pay you more than you ever dreamed of making.”
“It’s not about the—”
“We’ll announce it today, while everyone’s gathered here. I know how much they respect you. We all do.”
I stomped my foot in frustration, which made quite an impact because my boot was still in the puddle. The dirty water splashed Piers’ pant leg and he gave me a look of such loathing that I knew instantly that he didn’t want me back at Flordale at all. Not for my skills, anyway. There must be another reason.
“I can’t,” I said, simply. “People and animals depend on me here.” He tried to speak over me again and I lifted my foot, threatening another splash. “I appreciate your kind offer, sir, but there’s no way—”
“There’s always a way.” He shook out a snowy handkerchief and dabbed at his pant leg. I was surprised to see an artfully disguised bald patch on his crown. Even a man like Piers couldn’t control thinning hair.
“Not for this,” I said. “Even if I wanted to sell—and I don’t—my contract with the previous owner stipulates that she has to review and agree to the sale. I got a very good deal on the place. I couldn’t have afforded it based on my buyout from Flordale.”
“Ah, so that’s it,” he said, straightening. “You want us to review your buyout. Consider it done. And if we have to help finance this… dung heap… we will.”
I shook my head, completely baffled. “Why on earth would you want me back that badly?”
He rolled his eyes. “Have you really forgotten how important reputation is to a company? Ever since you stormed out of that meeting in a tantrum it’s been one PR disaster after another. The only thing to do—the right thing to do—is bring you back on board. I sent Wilf Darby here to make that happen. It’s his fault you went rogue after the ten years we invested in grooming you. You should have been made vice president before him, actually, but Avis wouldn’t hear of it.” He shook his head. “Wilf was a liability to Flordale and she shielded him.”
All his mixed messages swirled in my head. He thought Flordale had wronged me and wanted me back. But he despised me for who I was, or at least who I’d become. And he was prepared to give me carte blanche to clear this ugly blot from their corporate record.
Maybe all of this should have felt good, but it didn’t. The only thing that felt good in this moment was Keats’ head under my fingers. The only thing that smelled good was real manure, versus the corporate crap he was shovelling out. The only thing that sounded good was the contented grunts Archie made as he followed Heidi around the pasture.
And the only thing that looked good was the path up to the house, where my best friend sat waiting on the porch swing.
“If you’ll let me speak for a moment, sir, I can clear all this up,” I said. “As much as I appreciate knowing I was valuable to the firm, I have no doubt I made the right move in coming home to Clover Grove. I belong here and nothing—truly nothing—could bring me back to Boston and Flordale. But thank you for your very generous offer.”
He brushed dust off his sleeves with evident revulsion and shook his head. “You can’t carry on with this silly plan, Ivy. Your inn is doomed. Like I said, reputation is everything. With two murders hanging over this dung heap, you’re dead in the water.”
“I’ll recover. I have faith.”
Shaking his silver head, his frown returned. “You’re dangling off a precipice and one little push will send you over.”
Was he threatening me? It sure sounded like he was trying to buy me off and silence this whole incident. There was no question in my mind that he would do what he felt necessary to protect his company. In retrospect, I was surprised it hadn’t happened earlier. Maybe Avis was supposed to take care of it but was too overcome with grief.
Regardless, there was also no question in my mind that I’d do what I felt necessary to protect my farm, and especially all the creatures that depended on me. So I brought out a completely different smile to try on Piers. A conciliatory one.
“Sir, you’ve given me so much to think about. Maybe I was too hasty in turning you down. Please give me some time to think about your kind offer and how this might work for both of us.” I started ahead of him to the Porsche and he followed. “Like you said, there’s always a way.”
I opened the car door and he folded himself rather elegantly into the driver’s seat.
“Think fast, Ivy,” he said. “I’ll be staying at the Summit Hotel for a couple of days to meet with the staff and help them through this ordeal. I’ll need your answer before I leave.”
“Of course, sir,” I said, starting to close the car door. “And please, let me pay for your dry cleaning.”
I could only see one of his eyes as he peered out. It looked eerily like Keats’ blue eye.
“The car will need detailing, too,” he said. “This place is appalling. I don’t know how you can—”
I closed the door before he could finish. It was a small act of defiance that lifted my heart and Keats’ tail. I followed up with a corporate-quality smile and something like a salute as he drove off.
“See what you rescued me from?” I said, turning to Keats. “I’d take a conk on the head over Flordale any day of the week and twice on Tuesdays.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jilly ran down the front stairs to join me while Piers Frankel was still a cloud of dust in the lane.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“You will not believe this story, Jilly,” I said, standing on tiptoe to see the last of the Porsche. “Wait a second… what is going on down there?” I watched and then groaned. “Oh, no.”
The big white County Animal Services truck had practically rolled into the ditch to give way to the sports car that had stopped beside it.
“Are they fighting?” Jilly said.
“Probably. He’ll ask the County to cover detailing from all the dust the truck is kicking up.”
I pulled my phone out of my front pocket and texted Senna York to come over as soon as she could to play mediator.
Before long, Tess Blade pulled the truck into my parking area and backed it around skillfully. Then she leapt out like a superhero ready to take on crimes against the County. Her red hair was in a long braid and her coveralls with the Clover Grove crest were crisp.
“Good morning, Officer Blade,” I said. “What can I do for you today?”
“Just checking on the livestock, per my orders from the County. I’ve stopped by a couple of times but you’re never here, it seems.”
“It’s only been two days since I saw you,” I said.
“Animals need constant care and supervision,” she said. “Especially feisty heifers like these.”
She pointed at Heidi and Clara, who were contentedly grazing in their pasture while Archie frolicked and kicked up his heels.
“Charlie’s doing his rounds, but they’ve had plenty of attention from both of us today,” I said. “Which is why they look so darned happy, I suppose.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She practically catapulted into the pasture with them. I was no slouch at fence navigation now but Tess seemed to have springs in her regulation boots. She bounded over to the cattle and circled them. The girls didn’t look up from their grazing, but Archie came sniffing around.
“Do you mind if I ask why you were talking to my former boss in the lane?” I called.
She looked up from the calf. “You mean the jerk in the ego car? He complained about the dust and I told him to call the County if he wanted your lane paved.”
Senna’s Land Rover hurtled toward us. She pulled right up to the fence and jumped out. Her feet were a blur as she scaled the fence and joined Tess Blade.
“Hey Officer Blade,” she said. “Remember I represent these heifers. You’re not supposed to get near them without me.”
“The County never agreed to that,” Tess said. “You do your job, I do mine. Is there any reason for you to be worrying about the health of these cows?”
“About their physical welfare, no. But I certainly don’t want them to be further traumatized by you pestering them.”
“They’re under County watch, remember? That’s what I’m doing: watching.”
“Excuse me,” I called. “My cows have been cleared of wrongdoing, Officer Blade. The victim had already passed away when they, uh, stepped on him. Sharing a small pen with a corpse in the dark probably made them antsy.”
She raised a big hand in my direction to block me. “We got the police report. Cattle shouldn’t be kicking anyone, alive or dead. I’ve been told to continue to monitor the situation closely. You’re not in the clear yet.”
Senna shook her head. “Seriously? With all the complaints that truly require your attention, you’re going to hassle Ivy and her livestock? I’ve called in more than a dozen cases myself in the past month. Neglect, improper breeding, improper feeding, failure to protect, failure to vaccinate. That’s just for starters. Don’t even get me started on castration practices that are abhorrent and downright cruel.”
“We’re checking into your reports one by one,” Tess said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have time to drop by when I’m in the neighborhood.”
Senna advanced on her. “Look, these cows are happy and very well cared for. And that calf is prancing around today because I castrated him humanely and early, unlike many of the people I told you about.” She glanced over at me. “Remind me to check the barn again for my cutters, Ivy. I’m always leaving things behind.”
Tess looked as if she might back down for a second and then thought better of it. Towering over the vet, she said, “Senna, how about we hammer out where your job ends and mine begins?”
“That’s Doctor York, Officer Blade.”
Jilly came up beside me. “No one needs to be hammering anything. Why don’t you both come up to the house? I’ve got a blueberry coffee cake fresh out of the oven.”
There was a momentary standoff, and then both women took a single step backward.
“I don’t eat cake on the job,” Tess said. “But thanks.” She jumped the fence and loped back to her truck. “I’ll see Heidi and Clara tomorrow, and will continue as long as the County tells me to do it.”
“I’ll take the cake,” Senna said, grinning from the top rung.
“Me too,” I said, but when my phone buzzed, I added, “Make mine to go. Plus a spare. I’ve been summoned.”
Ten minutes later, I drove over to visit my neighbor with a slab of blueberry cake on the front seat, while Keats reluctantly rode in the back.
“Oh, lighten up,” I said,
when he mumbled a complaint. “You ride shotgun unless it’s Jilly or her gourmet grub. Seems fair to me.”
Edna was standing at the door when we arrived, wearing her usual yellowed nursing uniform. It was loose on her now, although she was still robust for her age. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could take me in a fistfight.
“What’s going on?” I asked, handing her the cake as I stepped into the front hall. “And don’t ask me to take off my boots so that you can pretend to lose them for two days, Miss Evans.”
“I forget things,” she said, with her sly smile. “I’m no spring chicken, Ivy. And how are my chickens doing, by the way?”
“Settling in nicely. Now, I assume you’ve observed something important. Or is this a social call?”
“I don’t socialize with people who drag dirt and dogs in here,” she said. “But we have an arrangement. You bring me meals and I bring you information.”
I noticed that the occasional food drop-off we’d agreed upon had expanded to be “meals,” in general. Seeing her every single day was more of a commitment than I wanted to make, but we could renegotiate after Wilf’s murder was solved. “Jilly’s serving beef bourguignon tonight, and I hear it’s delicious.”
She gave a curt nod, to signal the meal worthy of her intel. “I noticed you chatting with the bigwig in his black Porsche earlier. I’ve never trusted a man who likes Porsches. There are understated cars that still signal virility for insecure men, don’t you agree?”
“I’m not one for fancy cars, period. The Porsche belongs to the president of the Flordale Corporation. He came down to check on the staff, but they’re out on a drive with Asher.”