Alpaca Lies (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 5)

by Ellen Riggs

  “Yes, Miss Evans,” he said, without a trace of sarcasm. “I just needed a breath of fresh air.”

  “Fresh air is allowed and condoned,” she said. “In the company of a caregiver. Now, let’s march. Leave Ivy to get the animals settled. There’s a roaring fire inside and a room full of bickering dancers. What more could you want?”

  Collin squared his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am. Coming, ma’am.”

  “Ivy, I’ll thank you to relieve me of duty soon,” she said. “It’s been a long day and an old woman wants her own bed.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said, as she circled around me to herd Collin outside.

  Drama Llama reached out to snatch Edna’s camouflage toque. She swept it off and whacked him on the shoulder. “Take that, you feisty beast.” She winked at me as she turned. “Takes one to know one.”

  Finally, I was alone with only Keats, Percy and dozens of animals for company. I thought about lying down on the pile of clean hay in the corner but I was afraid I’d never get up again. Instead, I grabbed my spade and went outside. Keats grumbled to let me know that he, for one, wanted dinner.

  “Just a few minutes,” I said. “Before I go inside I need to hit something. Hard.”

  There was nothing more therapeutic in a mood like that than smashing a spade into a pile of manure. Even in cooler weather it needed to be turned because it retained more heat than soil did. That said, the work was getting harder and harder. Tonight it was exactly what I needed. There was no way I could play the hospitable innkeeper before, well… hitting something.

  A few minutes turned into more and I’d found a good groove when another voice rang out. “Ivy. Enough already.”

  It was enough. Just. I drove the spade into the manure with my boot one last time and left it there. Then I jumped down and let Kellan sweep me into his arms. He hugged me hard, and for a few blissful moments I truly felt at home. Safe. Instead of having to watch over everyone and everything, I could let him watch over me.

  Finally I eased away, reminding myself that there would be time for that later. It wasn’t wise to let down my guard. There was a killer on the loose and as much as Kellan might want to protect me, he couldn’t keep every last furry or feathered head on my property safe. He was carrying a heavy load, too. If the farm felt like a big responsibility, an entire community must feel massive. I wondered if I’d fully appreciated the weight of his job until that moment.

  “You okay?” he asked, as I steadied myself and looked up. His face was as handsome as ever but the spark of fun was understandably gone from his eyes tonight. I missed that spark. It kept the fire burning in my heart, when I wanted to… well, hit things.

  “Yeah. It’s just been a day, you know?”

  Now he smiled. “It has indeed. What a bunch of firecrackers in there. Can’t you find some dull guests?”

  “I keep hoping for a staid book club. That’s my dream. To sit around shooting the breeze about Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters.”

  “Stamp collectors,” he suggested. “Or coins. Super dull, probably.”

  “You’d think so, but bridge turned out to be incendiary, didn’t it? Seems like everyone gets fired up when they land here. Must be something in the water.”

  “Or the manure,” he suggested, taking a step back. “If you don’t mind my saying, you have something extra going on in the perfume department.”

  I laughed. “Sorry about that.”

  “What kind of sleuthing could you possibly have been doing that would leave you smelling worse than manure therapy?”

  “Sleuthing? What do you mean?” I scuffed my boot on the hard earth. “I was just running errands in smelly places.”

  “Ivy. I thought we weren’t going to pretend anymore. You’re going to do what you do without getting yourself or anyone else killed and I’m going to grin and bear it.” He sighed. “Make that grimace and bear it. Because obviously I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  I stood on tiptoe and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, keeping a little distance for the sake of his nose. “All my stops were in public and broad daylight. I just wanted to chat to some of the women from José’s dance class, because I noticed at the recital they were seething with jealousy—just like the women here. That man overwhelmed sensible women and opened their wallets, Kellan. He must have built quite a stash. Where is it?”

  Kellan shrugged. “I barely got through questioning the dancers here, today. I hope you have flood coverage because the tears really flowed. All of them contributed to José’s fund at some time, too, and they didn’t even hold a grudge that he left their towns and moved on. There was no bitterness toward him—only each other, and particularly your mom, who was considered the frontrunner in the race to get the man to settle down. At the same time, they hoped she could pull it off, so he’d stop rolling on. I think they’d have moved here just to be in his orbit.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Jilly and I felt none of that magnetic pull. He just seemed like an average Joe to me.”

  Kellan smiled at the joke. “You and Jilly are not average women.”

  “And we didn’t dance with him. That’s where the real damage happened, Kellan. He swept women away by making them feel special. Life here can be a lonely slog and he made them feel light and lovely. It was addictive, I suppose, and they wanted to help fund his studio so they could hold onto the feeling. I’m not sure anything more salacious was going on.”

  “He did the same in many other towns,” Kellan said. “And got away with it, too. We’ll never know the full scope because only a fraction of the scammed women will admit to donating. He left a trail of broken leases almost as long as the trail of broken hearts.”

  I crossed my arms and hugged myself since I didn’t want to impose my cheesy perfume on him. “But how will the killer ever be found? Someone with a grudge could have followed him from any of his previous stops.”

  “Let’s hope so, because outsiders are often easier to find than locals. They don’t know how to hide their tracks in a small community like this one.” Suddenly he looked around, as if sensing four eyes upon him. Keats and Percy had gotten into position for a double ambush and both looked utterly crestfallen when he shook his finger at them. “Find another victim, boys. I’ve had a day, too. I’ll cuff you both and cart you away if there’s so much as a hair on my uniform.”

  That was a lost cause, as a film of fuzz and dust had settled over him already. Still, I was grateful to the dog and cat for lightening the mood.

  “So you’re thinking it’s a local?” I asked. “A jealous spurned woman?”

  “Probably,” he said. “I need the autopsy report, but it looks like the killer used a smaller blade, which could be consistent with a female killer. José was slight, but it’s still not easy for a woman to take down a man.”

  “He was tipsy and easier to tip,” I said. “Mom said they all were.”

  Kellan nodded. “So it’s just a matter of figuring out which of the many women he deceived went over the edge.”

  “Well, I can tell you one thing to look for,” I said, pulling out my phone and flashing him a photo of Teri’s private collection. “José had these made and gave them to his most devoted supporters. I’ve already tracked down the L, the M and the T,” I continued. “Laurene Pedal from Pages and Pastries, Mabel Halliday, and Tish Ramsey. “It seemed like Tish had the most to lose. Her engagement to Ryan Snopes is at risk over that money. Oh, and Keats growled at her, too.”

  “Case closed then,” Kellan said, grinning as he took my hand and led me away from the manure and back into the barn. “If Keats hates her, we all hate her.”

  “I love it when you talk that way,” I said, before abruptly yanking him out of Drama Llama’s reach. “I’ll keep looking around for the key fobs with the J, N and B.”

  He didn’t tell me I couldn’t, as I’d expected. Instead he stared into Alvina’s pen. “What’s with her? She looks so sad.”

  I nodded. “She likes routine and there’s b
een constant upheaval since the video shoot. It’s going to take a serious intervention by Asher to shift this mood.”

  “You can take her back outside tomorrow,” he said. “We finished up quickly because it’s going to rain overnight and wash away any evidence.”

  “That’ll help,” I said. “It’s so hard when your animals suffer and you don’t know what to do.”

  Kellan pulled me over and hugged me again. “On second thought,” he murmured in my ear, “you smell just about perfect.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jilly practically skipped ahead of me to Buttercup the next day. Daisy had agreed to stay at the inn for the morning to give Jilly a break from the guests’ incessant pleas to clear out the family room again and dance. While we understood it would be a great stress reliever, dancing didn’t seem entirely appropriate, given what had happened. It was also the kind of thing that would feed the rumor mill. People would say we were dancing on the poor man’s grave. There wasn’t much I could do to control gossip except calling a moratorium on the mambo until things settled down. By then, hopefully this group would be so tired of our company they’d want to head home. It was a shame most of our guests to date had been ecstatic to leave, but eventually the tide would turn. Or so I hoped, because it would be pretty much impossible to find a “real job” in hill country to support this place.

  “Why Buttercup?” Jilly asked, sliding into the passenger seat. “Have you given up on the truck completely?”

  She didn’t notice Percy darting in behind her. I considered evicting the stowaway as our mission wasn’t cat-friendly today, but he’d become a master of evasion under the seats. The time I’d spend lying in the rear footwell and poking him out with a hiking pole would be stressful for both of us. If he wanted to cool his heels in the car with Keats while Jilly and I lunched, then let him. Maybe he’d think twice the next time.

  “Nope. I wanted to take some lessons after the last… deadly incident. But before I could get around to it, the next incident happened. The beauty of Buttercup—and I don’t say this lightly—is that driving her frees my mind to ponder the great mysteries of farm life. The gearshift requires my full attention.”

  Jilly laughed as Buttercup chugged and lurched down the lane. She wasn’t a morning car, or a cold weather car. It would be half an hour till she was in the mood to indulge us with a smooth ride, let alone heat. One of Jilly’s jobs as passenger was to keep the windshield clear. She kept a small towel handy to wipe the old girl down like a boxer between rounds. That meant Keats was a hindrance in her lap but it didn’t stop him from trying.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a normal vehicle?” Jilly asked. “Yours are as eccentric as some of your rescues. It’s all about indulging their idiosyncrasies.”

  “That’s an astute observation, my friend.” I made sure the coast was clear to turn onto the highway. At Buttercup’s pace, I needed extra space to ease into traffic. “I hate to say a good word about Flordale Corp, but at least working in that cutthroat environment taught me to indulge personalities and whims.”

  “Not to mention preparing you for an actual cutthroat environment,” Jilly said. “It never seemed like readiness training for murder investigation, but looked how it turned out.”

  “Good point. You can help me position that properly on my résumé when it comes time to find another full-time job.”

  She squeezed my right arm while continuing to fend off Keats’ incursions between the seats. “Don’t say that. The murders have got to stop. Like your mom says, it’s just not sustainable.”

  “Let’s smudge the place with sage again. There’s some bad juju that needs to be cleared if we’re ever to get the average, boring guests we need to thrive here.”

  “Agreed. We’ll do a big smudge before the snow flies. Let’s borrow Edna’s ATV and do the full property.”

  I glanced at her and grinned. “You’re itching to get on that dune buggy, aren’t you?”

  Jilly laughed. “Is it that obvious? It just looks so fun. Edna is having the time of her life.”

  “She might be the only one who doesn’t mind some bloodshed in the neighborhood. Keeps things interesting.” I turned off the main highway and took the bypass toward Dorset Hills. “All those years spent spying have paid off. It must be so validating for her.”

  “As annoying as Edna is, she was a huge help yesterday. She patrolled the inn constantly, inside and out, and if guests made a misstep, she reminded them she was packing.”

  “Seriously? She told them she was armed? That’s not the kind of thing we want in reviews.”

  “Not normally, but I honestly think it helped everyone feel more at ease knowing Edna would use her arsenal in their defense, too. She was clearly itching to deploy, but no one gave her an opportunity.”

  I risked taking my hand off Buttercup’s vibrating steering wheel to rub my forehead. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

  “Laugh, my friend. Whatever happens, we try to laugh, remember?”

  It was a commitment we’d made in college when we instantly recognized the kindred spirit in each other. Back in those giddy days, we got kicked out of class often for doing that very thing. Once we started laughing, it was nearly impossible to quit. Little did we know that too was training for life ahead. I suppose if you tried hard enough, you could see—or manufacture—a reason for everything. But one thing I never questioned was my good luck in meeting Jilly that day. She asked me to move my bag off a chair in a crowded cafeteria and within five minutes we were giggling over something. The rest was history.

  “I remember well,” I said. “In fact, I believe all the laughing increased my cardiovascular capacity. Without that, I probably couldn’t handle the rigors of farm work, let alone sleuthing.”

  “See, there’s the Ivy I love and admire. Always trying to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse.” She paused. “Are we allowed to use expressions like that now? As farmers? It sounds inhumane.”

  “In the confines of Buttercup, anything goes. Let’s make that our new rule. I am trying to blurt less in public.”

  “And making very good progress,” she said. “You’ll have a chance to practice tonight at the first culture-raising meeting. I’m glad Edna’s freeing us up to attend. She finds the whole idea of culture nauseating. I think her clash with the Bridge Buddies put her off joining anything but other preppers.”

  “It’s just as well. She seems more comfortable in fatigues now and that’ll fuel chatter.”

  Hazel Bingham had thrown open the doors of her old manor to host the first gathering because we couldn’t do it at the inn. I knew she was also trying to create an opportunity for me to study local suspects and I appreciated that. Since I’d helped solve a crime in her family, she was committed to backing me in anything I needed. I was learning to look for the flowers of friendship blooming in unusual places. Come to think of it, sunflowers in a derelict back yard had attracted me to Keats.

  He rested his muzzle on my shoulder now and mumbled something.

  “We’re almost there,” Jilly said, answering his question. “But you need to stay in the car, my friend. Cold weather has closed the patios.”

  Keats retreated and collapsed into a sulk in the back seat. His ears lifted slightly when Percy came out and draped his orange fluff across the black-and-white of Keats’ coat.

  We were in Dog Town proper now, and the big bronze statues that characterized the place were hard to ignore even in heavy traffic. A dozen blocks showcased nearly 20 breeds. I looked for the parking lot near City Hall with the eight-foot-high West Highland terrier. Evie Springdale had assured me there was always plenty of room for a big, moody car like Buttercup. Sure enough, there was a wide spot in a sunny corner that was perfect. I tried to pat Keats but he ducked away from my hand.

  “Love you, buddy,” I said. “I’ll eat fast, I promise.”

  Evie had asked us to meet her at The Puccini Café, a cute little place not far from City Hall and Bingham Square
, with the huge bronze German shepherd guardian. Her message had been deliberately vague and I hadn’t pressed. As a former political public relations expert, Evie knew what to say and when, so I was content to let things unfold.

  She had arrived early to get the corner seat in the café and waved eagerly as we walked in. Despite the urgent rescue work the Mafia got called upon to do unannounced, Evie usually looked stylish. She kept a change of clothes in her trunk and could slip into rescue gear in the back seat in record time. I wondered if I should do the same with more presentable clothing and learn to switch out of overalls when the occasion required. On the bright side, I firmly believed my farm couture kept people’s guard down and loosened their tongues.

  Evie hugged Jilly and I decided to relax my personal space rules and allow a quick one, too. Most of the Mafia weren’t huggers, but Evie and Remi Malone seemed to hold their arms in perpetual readiness. No doubt Jilly and I looked like we needed one today.

  The waiter took our order, and while we waited for the food to arrive, Evie pulled out her tablet to show us some of the footage from José’s last official performance. She tried to fast forward past him to Alvina’s closeups but I took the tablet to study the master dancer, and even blew up the image.

  “I still don’t get it,” I said. “What is that man’s appeal?”

  “Presence,” Evie said. “I’ve worked with enough politicians to know. When José danced with someone the world dropped away. He made them feel light and graceful and elegant, like he was. Even the men felt a buzz being around him. It’s obvious from the footage.”

  I handed the tablet back. “I guess he felt that entitled him to bilk people.”

  “Maybe they were happy to give it to him because he made them feel great,” Evie said.

  “But they couldn’t spare it, which makes it unethical,” I said. “That’s what really bothers me. He wasn’t going after the big fish who could afford it, but the little guys.”