by Ellen Riggs
“Percy needs to stay in the car. He’s not allowed inside with Daisy’s ferrets. For whatever reason, he’d prefer to cool his heels in Buttercup than stay here.”
Her pout turned into a sly smile. “I could take the truck. I know how to drive it, unlike you.”
I slid into the car and Jilly walked around to the passenger seat.
“If you can hotwire the truck and get to Daisy’s house before we’re done, I’ll roll out the red carpet. Deal?” I poked my head out. “Or you could just do something useful and pry information out of the guests.”
She turned her camouflaged back and stomped off. “Don’t think I’ll always be so easily manipulated, Ivy. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“If you could start by getting Mom onto the porch that would be great,” I called after her. “Kellan already spoke to her and said she could come, but she’s resisting family arrest. I don’t want to carry her if I don’t have to.”
Edna’s cackle floated back to us. “I’d love nothing more than to wrestle Dahlia into the car, just as I used to wrestle with your brother before vaccinating him. I still have my chops.”
“That’s the spirit, Edna,” I called. “Go get her.”
She raised her hand and it looked like she shot me the middle finger, but perhaps the stress of the day had made me paranoid.
“I will not be manhandled like a child,” Mom said, as I perp-walked her up Daisy’s driveway and into the house.
“It’s either me or the dog,” I said. “Which is it?”
She looked down at Keats, whose white-tipped tail whipped back and forth ingratiatingly. Now that he was off duty, he wanted to make amends, but Mom was as pouty as Edna, only with scarlet lips. While everyone else had filled up on coffee and gossip, Mom had done her face and hair, and put on a black dress of Jilly’s that befitted a woman in mourning.
“We’ll get things straightened out in no time, Dahlia,” Jilly said, patting Mom’s shoulder. “This is just a strategy session. To make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“Jillian, I’m grieving,” Mom said. “I’d like to be left in peace. There’s no ‘strategy’ required.”
I kept her moving through Daisy’s front hall and into the kitchen and didn’t stop herding until she was parked on her favorite stool. My older sister, a clean freak, put down her spray bottle of disinfectant and peeled off her rubber gloves long enough to pour coffee into white mugs. The one she slid over to Mom was only half full. It was Daisy’s latest attempt to minimize lipstick damage to her china. Mom peered into the mug, smirked, and then planted a big kiss on the rim. Game on.
Iris and Violet were already seated at the kitchen table. Poppy had followed me in her own car, having refused to ride in Buttercup’s backseat due to supposed carsickness. It was more about Mom-drama-sickness, and I didn’t blame her for wanting a little space.
After leaving a half-ring of lipstick on the mug, Mom spun on the stool to treat us all to a glare. “I’m not saying a thing until Asher gets here. I don’t trust any of you.”
“He’s not coming,” Poppy called as she stepped into the front hall. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold and it struck me that she was as attractive as Daisy, who was said to be the prettiest Galloway Girl. But Poppy seemed committed to downplaying her good looks with wild hair dye and thrift store punk clothing more suitable for a rebellious teen. “Kellan wouldn’t give him the time off.”
“Oh, he’s coming,” Mom said.
“You ordered him to defy the chief?” Daisy said, pulling her rubber gloves back on.
“I didn’t say a thing.” Mom freshened her lipstick for another assault on the mug. “He’ll come because Jillian’s here.”
Jilly’s cheeks became rosier than Poppy’s. “I’m sure that’s not true,” she said.
There was a bang as the front door crashed open and orange fluff streaked past.
“I let the cat out of the car, Ivy,” Asher called. “He asked to come in and I couldn’t say no. It’s cold out there.”
I shook my head and grinned. “It’s only been a few minutes, Ash. But I’m glad you’re taking requests from my pets.”
“Alvina’s changed me,” he said, flinging his coat on the pile on the chair and sliding in behind Jilly’s seat. I had the distinct impression he wanted to protect her from our family, not realizing that Jilly’s headhunting experience made her impervious to most slings and arrows. Nothing my family did shocked or upset her. The same couldn’t be said for my brother. As many atrocities as he’d seen in his work, he maintained a stubbornly sweet naïveté that was shaken only by family strife.
“You didn’t risk your job over this, I hope?” Daisy asked, spritzing cleanser on the already sparkling counter. “The way things are going in this family, we need an insider on the police force.”
“The chief thinks he needs an insider in this family,” Asher said, grinning.
“What am I?” I asked. “An outsider?”
Asher just grinned harder and brighter. “You’re in a category unto yourself, sis.”
“So Kellan sent you to spy on me?”
“He sent me to spy on you strategizing against him. Isn’t that sort of fair?”
“He’s got a point,” Jilly said. The combination of their brilliant smiles was blinding. They’d make gorgeous children one day, if circumstances didn’t scare her away from Clover Grove forever.
“The point is that we are on the same side, just working different angles,” I said. “Kellan’s going through official channels and I’m working the—”
“Dangerous, illegal channels,” Asher interrupted. “Exactly why he wants a man on the inside.”
“Whose side are you on?” I asked.
“Jilly’s,” he said, without missing a beat. “You drag her off on dangerous illegal missions with you.”
“There’s no dragging involved,” Jilly said, patting the hand that had settled on her shoulder. “I go willingly.” After a second she muttered, “Most of the time.”
“You go to protect Ivy from herself,” Daisy chimed in. “That’s not really fair to you. Or Keats.” Her head whipped around as an orange streak ran by in pursuit of a slinky rodent. “Or Percy. I hope he doesn’t kill the boys’ ferrets. Except I sort of hope he does.” She spritzed the fridge and shrugged. “You’d need to hide the bodies, Ivy.”
“My job is to expose the bodies, apparently,” I said. “So let’s get to business before Kellan calls his spy back to active duty.”
“Where he can get valuable information in clearing Mom’s name,” Daisy said, reaching for Mom’s mug. “Again.”
Mom slapped Daisy’s rubber glove away. “I’m not finished with the meager amount of caffeine you could spare a grieving woman. And there’s no need to clear my name.” She sat up straighter on her high stool, and nearly slid off. “I didn’t threaten anyone this time. Certainly not José.”
Poppy gave a slow clap. “Yay, Mom. Good on you for not threatening anyone.”
“Never mind.” Mom flicked dismissive fingers at Poppy over her shoulder. “You were supposed to be helping me babysit those dancing fools and when you fell asleep one of them clearly got out and murdered the master.”
“Excuse me? My job was to babysit you, while you babysat the dancing fools,” Poppy said. “You fell asleep on the job first and by the time I passed out, everyone was upstairs. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just settled in where I was.” She looked around at the rest of us. “I’m sure she didn’t move. I’d have known.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I mean, it’s not okay that someone murdered José at my farm, but if anyone’s to blame for being asleep on the job, it’s me. I should never have gone upstairs.”
“That’s right,” Asher said.
“It’s my fault, too,” said Jilly, always the supportive friend. “The music was just so grating.”
“It’s not your fault, it’s Ivy’s,” Mom and Asher said together.
Jilly looked at Mom and then m
oved Asher’s hand from her shoulder. “Ivy, Keats and I are in this together.”
The ferret climbed over the edge of the kitchen table and raced across in front of me. The cat followed and they skidded off the other side. Iris and Violet screamed but Jilly didn’t flinch. Such intrusions were matter of course now.
“And Percy,” I said. “We’re the dream team.”
Daisy came over, spritzed the table and applied her microfiber cloth in brisk circles. “How are we going to handle this?” she asked.
“Chief Harper is handling the murder investigation,” Asher said. “We’re handling Mom.”
“We got the short end of that stick,” Poppy said.
There was a collective snort of laughter at Mom’s expense. She downed the last of her coffee and held onto her cup anyway. “I don’t see what’s so funny about a charming, decent man losing his life. You’re all terrible. I raised terrible, heartless children.”
“Oh, Mom,” Daisy said. “I raised these terrible, heartless children. It’s on me.” She gave a last swish of her rag and moved to the stove. “I can live with that.”
“Dahlia.” Jilly’s voice took on the silken note of corporate handling. “I’m so sorry about what happened. Were you really close to José? Was it one of those ‘love at first sight’ situations?”
Mom’s eyes clouded in confusion. “Not really, although I did like him very much. José knew how to treat a lady and that’s not always the case with hill country men.”
“Joe,” Asher said. “Joe Barker from the Bronx.”
Mom swivelled quickly. “Pardon me?”
“José Batista was a fraud in name and game,” my brother said. “He swindled people. That’s why he was constantly on the move.”
“Aha! I knew that accent was fake,” I said.
My eyes were on my mother and I noticed a flush start around her neckline. She covered it with one hand as if trying to shove it down. Meanwhile her eyes darted around the room, from the sparkling fridge to the buffed countertop.
“Mom,” I said. “Did José—Joe—ask you for money?”
She plucked at something on her black dress. Orange cat hair, probably. “He did, actually.”
“Tell me you didn’t give it to him,” I said.
“Just a little. To get the studio on its feet.”
“Mom!” The chorus of six voices included a “Dahlia” from Jilly.
“Oh, relax. It wasn’t much. Only a thousand.” She pretended to sip from the empty cup and muttered, “Or two.”
“That was my money,” I said.
“And mine,” Daisy said.
“Mine too,” the others echoed.
We’d all kicked in to keep Mom afloat as she got fired from job after job. I’d paid her rent in full for the last two years I worked in HR, but her living costs had come from the others, apparently. We never really talked about it.
“I paid him from the proceeds of the salon,” Mom said, with as much dignity as she could muster.
“We’re still in the hole,” Iris said. “It’ll be months before we can cut ourselves a wage.”
“And we all invested in the salon, too,” I said. “So no matter how you slice it, you let a conman charm you out of our money.”
Mom’s fingers picked faster at more hair than could possibly exist from such a short car ride with Percy and Keats. “He said he’d pay it back quickly. With interest.” Her voice was as meek as I’d ever heard it. “I thought I was contributing to the revival of culture in this town. Like you wanted.”
I got out of my seat and walked over. “What really happened? Did you fall hard for this guy?”
She shook her head uncertainly. “No. I kept up my rotation. In fact, I accepted more dates than ever to offset his appeal.” Gripping my hand, she stared up at me. “It was his dancing, Ivy. You had to experience it to know. It felt like…”
Her voice trailed off and I filled in the blanks. “Like being safe in the arms of an angel?”
“Yes!” Her eyes brightened. “I’d never felt anything like it.” Then she wilted again. “I guess I got swept away.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Poppy said. My rebel sister had been duped by more than her fair share of deadbeats. I supposed we’d all been affected one way or another by our father’s abrupt departure. To my knowledge, Iris and Violet had barely dated, and aside from Kellan, I was pretty much off the market for 10 years myself. Only Daisy had married, and even that union had rocky periods I learned about while resolving the dogcatcher’s murder.
“I feel… awful,” Mom said, patting her still-flat belly. “Right here.”
“It’s anger over being betrayed,” I said. Mom always needed help identifying her emotions. Ironically, I was usually the one to tell her how she felt despite having been totally oblivious to my own feelings for years. After rescuing Keats, however, I was frequently flooded by emotions, most of which I could name easily. “That happens to the best of us, too.”
“I—I don’t like it. That’s why I never get too attached, you know.”
Daisy leaned across the counter and grabbed Mom’s hand. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?” The very thought of vomit in her kitchen made her voice hoarse.
“No, Daisy,” Mom said. “But if I do, I have this empty coffee mug right here to catch it.”
It was good to hear the withering spark back in Mom’s voice.
“Okay,” I said. “So Joe was a scammer. What else do you know, brother?”
Asher shook his head. “Not much yet. Just that Joe was stabbed multiple times with a short blade a woman could use as easily as a man. It was far more than necessary to get the job done. Someone was really angry.”
Mom patted her roiling stomach again and Daisy stooped to grab an empty pot from under the counter to place in front of her.
“José wasn’t all bad, I’m sure of it,” Mom said. “He wanted to put down roots here.”
“Unlikely,” Asher said. “He was already behind on rent for both the studio and his apartment. Getting women to kick in was his M.O. ” Jilly touched his sleeve and he added, “Sorry, Mom. I’m afraid this guy was a loser.”
“He wasn’t a loser.” Mom’s voice got shrill. “He was a beautiful dancer and so charming.”
Poppy rubbed her hands over her face and smudged her heavy eyeliner. “Newsflash, Mom. The best scammers have all the right moves and charm to spare.”
Mom nodded slowly. “I suppose so. Your— Your father was a very good dancer and quite charming in his way.”
Daisy refilled Mom’s mug to the brim and said, “Sip it slowly.”
After taking a mouthful, Mom stared into the murky depths of the mug. “I can’t believe I got duped twice. I swore never again after your father. He was bad business.”
Jilly got up and hugged Mom from behind. I knew Mom had to be in a state of deep despair to allow such a blatant display of pity.
“Look at what you got out of that bad business,” Jilly said. “Six wonderful children who have your back, and some bonus family, too.”
Keats leaned against Mom’s leg and her hand dropped to his ears. She could accept the dog’s comfort more easily than Jilly’s.
“Yes,” she said, gently disengaging Jilly’s arm. “I had six kids, and all of them got the best of my genes, thank goodness. Especially Ivy.” There was a general squawk of protest, including from me. I didn’t want to consider myself a chip off Mom’s block. “This never would have become such a mess if you didn’t have that farm, though.”
“You brought the mess to my farm, Mom, with the alpaca video that will never be aired,” I said. “And now there’s another murder to solve.”
Mom slipped off her stool and snapped her fingers. “My coat, please. I need to lie down and recover. And you two”—her index finger jabbed the air between Asher and me—“need to sort this out. Quickly. Our family’s reputation is at stake.”
“Our family’s reputation is mud,” Poppy said, getting up, too.
>
“That’s where you’re wrong, Pops,” I said. “It’s manure. Dung. Guano. And like Edna Evans says, the sooner we accept the stench, the better.”
Chapter Ten
Jilly decided to ride back to the farm with Poppy and Percy, and Mom with Asher. I waited till the police SUV pulled out of Daisy’s driveway before telling everyone I had a few errands to run. They knew exactly what that meant. Keats and I were going to start poking around to see if there were clues to be found about José Batista’s death. Kellan had the dance troupe covered at the inn but given what Mom had told us, there were likely other possible suspects in town.
“We don’t have a moment to lose,” I told Keats as we drove into town. “It’s a race against gossip.”
The dog’s paws were on Buttercup’s dashboard as he embraced our new challenge. I took it as a sign of being on the right track. If he thought the murderer was at Runaway Farm, he would probably want to be home to guard the animals. On the other hand, he might trust Kellan and Asher to keep the peace there while we sniffed for a trail to follow in town.
“We can’t possibly beat the speed of the Clover Grove grapevine,” I continued. “But in situations like this, it’s critical to get in early before people fully shape their narrative. At this point, they don’t know who’s saying what and where they fit into the picture. Factions are already forming. People are deciding who’s guilty and building a case against them, fairly or otherwise. It’s all about redirection and obfuscation.”
Keats mumbled agreement and his white paws danced on the dash in a go-go-go.
“Gotcha, buddy. But we’re hitting Mandy’s Country Store, first. She could point me in the right direction. There are so many suspects this time. Particularly the women from José’s—Joe’s—classes. Mom probably wasn’t the only one he tangoed for cash.”
Keats gave me a blue-eyed stare. “Okay, that was tacky, and I know you love Mom.” I shook my head. “I’m still rattled and I’d better settle down. This is big. Really big. I’ve never heard of anything like it in the history of Clover Grove.”