Swine and Punishment (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 7)

by Ellen Riggs

  “I don’t know what’s what anymore,” he said. “People in this town aren’t what they seem.”

  His wife joined him. She was as fair as he was dark but her expression was equally unfriendly. Their parkas and boots were from the workwear supplier in town, just like mine. There was no tie-dye that I could see. It was somewhat disappointing.

  “That’s true everywhere,” I said. “I spent ten years in Boston working in HR. No one is what they seem.”

  “I am,” Gertie said. “I’m exactly as crazy as I seem.”

  “Me too,” Edna said.

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re not, though. That’s just the thing. Finch is right.”

  “Agreeing with me won’t get you anywhere,” he said. “It’s a political manipulation. Right, Starling?”

  “Where is this political business coming from?” I asked. “I’m a small farmer, just like you.”

  His wife snorted. “You’re not just like us, and saying so proves his point. You’re just a pretend farmer in a fancy inn, who has Hollywood falling all over her.”

  “Ah. You’re mistaking Faraway Farm for my own,” I said. “Whereas I see myself as an innocent victim.”

  “Don’t we all,” Edna said. “My rep has little basis in reality.”

  Finch was not to be sidetracked. “We heard the mayor is pushing hard for you to take over that show.”

  “After the star was killed practically on our land,” Starling added. “Everyone thinks your pig did it, but we think you did. People seem to drop like flies around you and you have the most to gain.”

  I felt Minnie pressing against my spine but I had plenty of backbone without the rifle’s help.

  “It’s so interesting that you should say that, when I wondered if you might be the killers.”

  “Us!” Finch took a step forward with the dog, whose lip curled to show even more fang. The rolling growl made Keats sound like a pussycat.

  “How dare you?” Starling said. “We live a simple life without any of the modern conveniences of corruption.”

  “Well, you seem pretty tuned in for folks off the grid,” Edna said.

  “We visit the co-op and the feedstore,” Finch said. “We hear things. No one’s saying we did anything wrong, whereas plenty of people say Ivy did.”

  “Some people are saying you stole my pig,” I said. “Other people are saying you stole the show’s dog. And I’m saying I found them in your old barn today.”

  Finch turned an ugly shade of red. Living off the grid wasn’t keeping his blood pressure down. “That’s a lie!”

  “Good thing I got photos,” I said. “Which I shared with the police, who are probably out there now.”

  “They can’t come on my property without permission.”

  I shrugged. “I would imagine they knocked like I did. Might even have a warrant. I didn’t ask.”

  “A warrant?” Starling said. “Why? Livestock run off all the time.”

  “That’s what I said, but no one sides with me.”

  “Get out of here, all of you,” Finch said. “Or I’ll set the dog on you.”

  “Do that and I’ll set Minnie on you,” Gertie said. “Would you like to meet her?”

  Starling pulled Finch back by his sleeve. “Just let them go. It’s all poppycock.”

  “Poppycock,” Gertie said. “I’ve always liked that word.”

  “Or claptrap,” Edna said.

  “Rubbish is good, too,” I said. “But to get back to the point, I wanted to let you know that I rescued the animals and took a good look around. I thank you for not abusing them at least. Wilma seemed quite happy about her vacation.”

  Finch and Starling stared at each other and then turned without another word and walked into the bush together.

  “Well,” Edna said, beating Gertie to the truck and pulling open the passenger door. “I guess Ivy was right about jumping to conclusions. They’re not peaceniks at all.”

  Gertie slid Minnie into the rear footwell and climbed into the back seat. “I vote for renaming them Falcon and Buzzard.”

  Keats settled on Edna’s lap and gave a pant of relief, while Percy settled in Gertie’s.

  “They’re some of the most belligerent people I’ve met in Clover Grove,” I said.

  “Negative people take such a toll on my mood,” Gertie said. “Let’s go shoot some bean cans and cheer up, Edna.”

  “You got it. And I’d like to do some preparedness planning with you, after getting a closer look at your neighbors. When the end comes, danger will be close at hand.”

  “Never fear,” Gertie said. “Those birds may survive without TV but they won’t last long in the apocalypse.”

  “It takes more than righteousness and conviction,” Edna agreed. “It’s about practicalities. And the right balance between ferocity and compassion.”

  I glanced at each of them and smiled. “I’m glad I’m in your bunker, ladies.”

  Keats gave a yip of agreement and we all laughed.

  Chapter Twenty

  I was still hanging around with Wilma and Byron when Jilly came to collect me from the barn later in the afternoon.

  “I figured I’d find you here,” she said. “You might as well bring a sleeping bag down and spend the night.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “It would save time going back and forth to the house. Plus I get to avoid Mom.”

  “I heard that,” she called from the doorway.

  “I counted on it,” I said.

  “Please tell me you are not going to this event dressed like that,” Mom said.

  “I’m totally going to the event dressed like this,” I said. “There are things I dress up for, like dates and certain parties, and then everything else. This is in the everything else category.”

  “Ivy Rose Galloway, I brought you up better.”

  “You brought me up differently,” I said. “I’m quite sure you didn’t intend for me to become a farmer, but it all worked out.”

  “You have a skewed perspective on things. Honestly, Ivy. You just got your stolen pig back.”

  “I know. Isn’t it grand?” I turned to look into the pen where Wilma was contentedly scouring her trough while Byron dozed in the straw. He seemed exhausted from constant vigilance, whereas Wilma had come home revitalized. She had given Keats a merry chase when he brought her in, but all Byron had to do was give a rumble, and she did his bidding. “She is a new pig. A happy pig. She makes these little noises I’ve never heard before. Piping squeaks.”

  “Piping squeaks?” Mom said. “I’m going to sit in the truck and leave Ivy to you, Jilly. Your success rate at getting her to do anything is far higher than mine.”

  “I don’t want to leave them,” I said, after Mom stomped off. “What if something happens?”

  “That’s why Poppy offered to stay behind,” Jilly said. “She’s just getting her things together and she promised to text every half hour with photos of the happy twosome.” When I still didn’t move she added, “The mayor will expect to see you there, Ivy. And we want to stay on her good side, no?”

  I sighed. “When exactly did I become such a yes-man?”

  “The exact moment you went into business,” she said. “Although I’d argue we’ve been yes-women since we started our careers. We’re just yessing different things now.”

  “I’m not dressing up for these people. They don’t deserve it.”

  She handed me a garment bag. “I chose this outfit with great care. It’s just enough to look respectful to the mayor while still flipping the bird at the network executives.”

  “Really? We have outfits like that?”

  “Of course. If you go looking like farmer Joe it will be cliché. If you dress up too much it’ll say you’re open to red carpets.” She gave me a little shove. “Into the empty horse stall for a quick change.”

  I was laughing before I came out. Where Jilly had found a sweater with a big rubber duck on it was beyond me. It said everything and nothing, wh
ich is about what I wanted.

  “I love it but I still don’t want to go,” I said.

  “You don’t want to miss this. The whole town will be on edge, torn between sucking up to the TV execs and insulting them. So often we have to hear about this kind of thing secondhand.”

  “I just don’t want them to think I have any interest in what they’re planning,” I said.

  “They’re just doing a call for auditions today, from what Becky said on the phone. I cannot wait to see who raises their hand.” She started herding me to the truck with Keats’ help. “And Kellan will be there.”

  “There is that,” I said. “Even if it’s in his chiefly capacity.”

  “The execs can’t bug you too much when he’s attending in uniform,” she said. “And there’s the added bonus of making half the women jealous.”

  I grinned at her. “While you and Asher make the other half jealous.”

  “It’s good to be us,” she said, grinning back. “Most of the time.”

  When Poppy came down from the house, I put the truck in gear. “I’m worried about Poppy, Mom. Her spark is gone. How long since you heard her talk smack to you?”

  “Too long,” Mom said, with a sigh. “My heart aches for her, but if she’d just listened to me and started a healthy rotation, this wouldn’t have happened. She pinned her hopes on Ray after mere days when she could have been wined and dined by several eligible men and never given him a second thought.”

  “She would still have felt betrayed that he used her to gain information,” I said. “He basically pretended he didn’t know her. It was cold.”

  “I know how hard that is better than anyone,” Mom said, letting Keats climb through the seats and curl up in her lap. If she was willing to be seen by TV execs covered in dog hair, she must be sincere. “That’s why I advise keeping many eggs in your basket unless you have a man of true character.” She stared out into the evening gloom and absently stroked Keats’ ears. “I used to think they didn’t exist, but I raised one and you found another.”

  Jilly reached over and squeezed her shoulder. If I tried that move, Mom would have cringed or maybe even lashed out. But Jilly, her later life adopted daughter, and Keats, the grand-dog she didn’t want, provided comfort I couldn’t. On the other hand, I brought both into her life, so I still got some points.

  We drove the rest of the way to Clover Grove Elementary School in silence. It was a strange place to hold a meeting like this, but probably the only space big enough on short notice.

  Walking into the gymnasium brought an unexpected wave of nostalgia. I may never have been a schoolyard favorite but I had won nearly every academic award offered and that set the stage for who I became. Seeing Edna on the other side of the room, I thought about vaccination day and shivered. I could never have imagined then what we’d accomplish together. Both of us had certainly changed.

  At the front of the room two men sat on a low wooden podium in front of the stage. They wore sports jackets over their open-neck shirts and jeans—a combo that said arty bigwig, I assumed. One of them wore a beret.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “No one does berets in real life.”

  “Probably bald,” Mom said, with a little smile. “He’s keeping his head warm in a small-town winter.” Jilly and I started to snicker and she shushed us. “Quiet, or I won’t be funny. At least intentionally.”

  Edna migrated around the room to join us. “This is going to be such fun.”

  I thought about the old Edna pulling my brother out from under the stage by his feet and marveled at how she could be practically giggling. Granted, there was still a sadistic edge, but she truly was fun, now.

  Asher didn’t think so. Normally he was fighting a smile even in uniform but he stood as far away from the stage as he could and his expression was even more dour than Kellan’s. I exchanged a quick smile with my boyfriend before his chiefly frown reappeared.

  “Take a seat, everyone,” the man with the beret called. “Let’s get started.”

  We stayed at the back of the room, leaning against the wall while people rushed to get seats in the front rows. There was a lot of flapping and twisting as they tried to wedge themselves into the child-sized seats. Heddy Langman actually slid off and took the chair with her. Kaye helped her up and both women flushed.

  “Oh, the poor darlings,” Mom whispered. “I’ll remind them of that the next time we try to pin a murder on them.”

  I covered my mouth. “Mom, stop it. You’re going to get me in trouble in school.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time, darling. The principal called me in often to rebuke me for lax parenting.”

  Mr. Beret introduced himself as Stan Ellis and his bespectacled companion as Dex Bocker.

  “Thanks for joining us today to salute Vivian Crane, who left us so tragically this week.” He signaled Ray in the front row, who pressed a remote. A screen came down over the stage and Vivian’s face appeared with dates underneath.

  “Oh. please,” Mom whispered. “She was born earlier than that. By a decade.”

  “Stop,” I hissed. “Respect for the dead.”

  A greatest hits reel played soundlessly while Stan enumerated some of Vivian’s credits, and then segued gently into talking about the show, Faraway Farm.

  “As you know, the premiere had aired before Vivian passed,” he said. “It was an immediate hit but we can’t go on as we’d expected, obviously. Vivian was the show.”

  Sounds of relief and disappointment collided over the crowd and pretty much cancelled each other out.

  Stan raised his hand for silence. “Fear not, the show will go on… just not as it was. We’re going with an entirely new format that focuses more on humor than the quiet elegance Vivian was known for. Our producers are in discussions now, but the leading and supporting roles are currently up for grabs. We’ll be in town for a couple of days holding auditions and I hope to see some of you come out.”

  Excited murmurs crashed into clucks of disgust, and Heddy Langman, still flushed, raised her hand. When Stan nodded, she called out, “The people of Clover Grove don’t care to be the butt of your jokes, Mr. Ellis. Your crews have been intrusive already. We value our privacy here.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Dina Macintosh, the owner of the Hound and the Furry. “This production can bring business to all of us, including you, Heddy.”

  Teri Mason managed to get out of her kiddie chair despite being hamstrung by a flowered caftan. “I agree with Dina. I’m happy to host you at Hill Country Designs, although of course, we’ll all want to sign waivers.”

  Mayor Martingale was standing near the front and she stepped forward. “You raise a good point, Teri. I think everyone’s concerned about being portrayed as…”

  “Country bumpkins,” Edna called out. “Or yokels.”

  There was a gurgle of laughter, and Teri chimed in. “We’re okay with people laughing with us, but not at us. There are lots of good people in this town trying to do the right thing.”

  “I hear your concern,” Stan said. “But we also know what tests well with our audience. They want simple and heartwarming, which Clover Grove delivers by the truckload. But they also crave a little slapstick. These are difficult times across the country. You can be the thing people look forward to each week. The thing that is guaranteed to put a smile on everyone’s face. Can you do that for the nation?”

  This time more people murmured yes than no. He was making it a civic duty to become a laughingstock. And the mayor wasn’t protesting for us.

  I raised my hand. Someone had to speak.

  Mom tried to pull down my hand and we had a little tussle.

  On the stage, Stan and Dex both laughed. “Yes, that’s perfect. Just what we’re looking for! We can always count on you, Ivy Galloway.” He signaled Ray again. “On that note, let’s flip to a highlights reel that shows rather than tells you our vision.”

  Before I could say a word, the screen on the school stage filled wi
th denim. Baggy denim overalls. A baggy denim butt, to be precise.

  My baggy denim-clad butt. I would know that butt anywhere.

  There was a joint gasp of horror from Mom and Jilly as they identified the butt as well. Edna was grinning, and Kellan, when I dared to look at him, had looked down at his boots. My brother, on the other hand, lit up the room with his smile.

  After the close-up, they cut to a montage of my greatest pratfalls. It opened with me getting dragged backward by the donkey over the cobblestones in town square, then cut to me slipping on manure, falling over a fence, being mowed down by Drama Llama and finally, getting flattened by Wilma. That shot had been taken the day of Evie’s visit to pitch her own show. It was a different angle, so I knew they’d been spying on me even then.

  The highlights reel ended with a close-up of Wilma’s wild-eyed face, clearly framing her as the villain of the piece.

  Everyone turned in their child-sized seats. All I could see in that moment was mouths hanging open in laughter.

  Jilly clutched my arm and whispered, “Eight count. Starting now.”

  I couldn’t breathe at all. My head spun, my throat seized and my chest hurt.

  “I’ll get Kellan,” Mom said. Her voice sounded far away.

  “No.” I got that word out and then another. “Keats.”

  Jilly bent over and the dog was in my arms with his muzzle pressed against my neck. He murmured one sympathetic sound and then followed it with a string of canine profanity that infused life back into me.

  “Don’t you cry, young lady,” Mom said.

  I shifted Keats to look at her. “Oh, I won’t. I’m going to invite them for coffee.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Stan and Dex were sitting together on one side of the booth when I arrived at the Berry Good Café. They didn’t know they were sullying “my table” with Kellan.

  Or did they? Turned out they knew plenty more than I thought. I suppose Jasmine, the young blonde waitress wringing her hands behind the counter, had probably told them in exchange for a cameo.

  “Hey, guys,” I said, walking over and sliding onto the bench across from them. It was a tight squeeze in my bulky parka but I didn’t plan to stay long.