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

by Ellen Riggs

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Evie said. “He went after big fish, too. José cast his hook widely.”

  The food arrived and she fell silent till the waiter left. I couldn’t take a bite of my grilled cheese sandwich with Evie’s own hook dangling, so I bit. “Come on, Evie. Tell us.”

  She speared a couple of fries and chewed before answering. “Eat your fries while they’re hot,” she said, pushing the ketchup toward me. My cheeks warmed too as I recalled how the Mafia had found me nearly kissing Kellan at the Bone Appetit Bistro with my chest pressed into the condiments. I’d ruined Jilly’s second-best sweater but also entered a new stage in my relationship, so I had no real regrets.

  When my mouth was full of fries, I mumbled, “Now, tell us.”

  After checking for eavesdroppers, Evie said, “Check out the woman at the cash register. Turn one at a time and don’t make it obvious.”

  The woman was middle aged and as well preserved as Mom. Her hair and makeup were so polished that the apron looked out of place.

  “That’s the owner?” I asked.

  Evie nodded. “The new owner. Recently divorced by a longtime city councillor. When we ousted the corrupt mayor, a lot of the old boys left, too. Or got nudged out by Isla, our new mayor. As soon as this guy was done, he cut ties with his wife. The optics didn’t matter once he was back running a law firm. So he bought this place out from under the old owner and set his ex up here.”

  “That’s interesting,” Jilly said, poking at her food. The sandwich and fries tasted great to me, but my foodie friend had a finicky palate. “I have the feeling there’s more to the story.”

  “You’re so right,” Evie said, pointing her fork at Jilly. “According to the Dog Town rumor mill, which is just as robust as Clover Grove’s and much faster, this woman had an affair last year.” She paused for dramatic effect. “With a ballroom dancer.”

  I dropped my fork and then stilled it before the clatter attracted attention. “Joe Barker hit Dog Town?”

  “Indeed he did. He rented out studio space in Riverdale and had a following in no time. Word of mouth pulled in the councillor’s wife and next thing you know, José’s lease was terminated for a long list of supposed violations and he was driven out of town. You didn’t mess with the last mayor or his cronies. Careers were ruined for less.”

  I’d heard stories and knew that the former mayor was wily and corrupt. It had taken a strong rebel faction of dog rescuers to drive him out of town. Now he was licking his wounds elsewhere, perhaps to rise again later.

  “Do you have details for Kellan?” I asked.

  Evie nodded. “Let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the old boys’ network finished off the job when they heard José had popped up again so close to home. He preyed on lonely women wherever he found them and once he’d drained the bank, moved on to the next town.”

  I stared at my food and it no longer looked appealing. “It disgusts me to hear that, particularly since my mom was one of his victims.”

  Evie reached over and touched my sleeve. “I know it’s hard seeing depravity up close, but I have something to tell you, based on my long experience in politics…”

  She crooked her finger. Jilly and I both leaned forward and whispered, “What?”

  “Never ever let it ruin your enjoyment of good fries,” she said. We both sat back, laughing. “There’s a time to fight crime and a time to eat fries. That fine balance is what keeps you going.”

  Jilly picked up her Rueben sandwich, took a bite and chewed. “This isn’t bad, actually. I could make a version of this for the inn. Better, of course.”

  “I want to talk to you about the inn,” Evie said. “More specifically about marketing in the face of murder. I have some ideas.”

  “Yes?” Jilly’s voice overlapped with mine and we both leaned forward eagerly.

  “Let’s get the current issue out of the way and then do some brainstorming,” Evie said. “How about I loop the others in, too?”

  “That would be great,” I said. Although I felt sheepish about needing anyone’s advice on running my business, the time for pride was over. I’d take help when it was offered, at least when it came from people I trusted, including the Rescue Mafia. That’s what community was all about. You just had to choose your community wisely.

  After that, the food disappeared quickly and we were nearly done when there was a thud on the glass beside us.

  Turning, we saw Cori Hogan with her black glove raised in a fist. She thumped the window lightly again and then unfurled her fingers to beckon. As always, the middle finger was neon orange.

  Evie checked her phone, and then slid some bills across the table to me. “Can you pay while I go out to see what Cori wants?”

  “Sure, but I want to know what Cori wants, too.”

  “What she wants first is for you to pay at the cash register,” Evie said. “Apparently there’s something you need to see.”

  I headed for the cash register and offered my best smile to the owner. It was nice for a change that someone didn’t recognize me and have preconceptions. I felt 10 pounds lighter being anonymous.

  The woman smiled back before turning to ring up my bill. As she moved, I noticed the key fob hanging out of the cash register: a mauve heart with a scrolly “J” encased in fake glass. The name tag pinned to her apron said Janet.

  My hand shook a little as she poured the change into it and I could barely form the word yes when she asked if I’d enjoyed the meal.

  I made my way outside and crossed the road to join Cori, Evie and Jilly in front of the corgi statue outside Barkingham Palace Café. I already knew this dog was a fiberglass knockoff of the sanctioned statues but couldn’t resist rapping on its side anyway to hear the hollow sound. Nothing was as it seemed in Dorset Hills, either.

  “How did you know about the key fobs?” I asked Cori.

  The petite trainer shrugged. As usual she was dressed all in black, ready for action. No backseat changes for Cori. Where rescue was involved, every second counted. “It’s my business to know things,” she said. “I’ve trained Janet’s dog, and when I heard about Joe Barker’s sleazy gifts, Evie and I put two and two together.”

  “Does that mean the grapevine is buzzing about the key fobs? If so, I’ll never find the missing ones.”

  Evie shook her head. “Inside knowledge, we promise. We can’t divulge our sources, but take our word for it and go get this guy.”

  “I will,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank us,” Cori said. “You’ll do that by hosting our new rescue.”

  “The ark is already full,” Jilly said. “I can hardly get Ivy to come inside as it is.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t want to come inside,” Cori said. “Not because she’s overworked.”

  “Tell me it’s not a camel,” Jilly said. “Ivy dropped that into casual conversation and I’ve been worried ever since.”

  “Not a camel,” Cori said, grinning.

  “Another alpaca?” I asked, hopefully. “Alvina is rattled after what happened and she doesn’t seem to take comfort from the llamas or donkeys.”

  “Get your brother over to cut a rug,” Cori said. “All she needs is some male attention. As we’ve seen, many females lose their minds when men dance with them.”

  “He’s coming by today,” I said. “But I’m worried about her.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Cori said. “This new rescue isn’t likely to be her type, though. Charlie’s already making the necessary adjustments for its rather unique needs.”

  Jilly’s sigh sent out a big puff of frosty steam that Cori waved away with a flap of orange middle finger. “Relax, Jilly. It’s temporary.”

  “It’s always temporary… until Ivy can’t part with any of them.”

  Cori started to walk off with Evie, offering an orange-fingered reverse wave. “That’s what I like about her. But this rescue I can pretty much guarantee she’ll want to give back.”

  “Why
doesn’t that make me feel any better?” Jilly asked, as we headed toward Buttercup.

  “Because it’s a baby dragon,” I said. “And you’re worried it’ll burn down the farm.”

  “Very funny,” Jilly said, laughing as she evicted Keats and Percy from the passenger seat. “Like I don’t have enough nightmares already, Ivy Galloway.”

  Sliding behind the wheel, I grinned at her. “Let’s just keep laughing, my friend. You said it first.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It was lovely to see the old Bingham Manor lit up as it probably had been in its glory days. Mom was sitting in Buttercup’s passenger seat, periodically swatting at Keats who was trying to work his way into her lap. Jilly had gone ahead with Asher when Mom dragged out her preparations to the point where I threatened to leave her behind. I’d already stuck my neck out just to get Kellan to agree to let her attend and had swung by her apartment earlier to collect what seemed to be half of her considerable wardrobe. It had eaten into my sleuthing time, but I’d managed to stop at Peachtree Fine Foods to encourage Ryan to come to the culture-raising meeting tonight. We needed as many of the town’s key players as possible to show up if we hoped to gain any traction. Of course, I was also eager to watch Joe Barker’s former fans interact with each other, particularly since Kellan was too busy with work to join us.

  “Ivy, seriously,” Mom said, pushing Keats back yet again. “Your dog is incorrigible. And he smells.”

  “He does not,” I said, trying to find room to park in a very crowded yard. “Or not much. I used a special dry shampoo for dogs on him.”

  “So now he smells like fake flowers. It’s no better than manure.”

  “There’s no pleasing some people, Keats,” I said.

  “You could please me by leaving the dog at home,” she said. “Not to mention the cat. I know he’s in here. I can feel it.”

  “Percy loves visiting Hazel’s,” I said. “I couldn’t deny him just like I couldn’t deny you. Remember I had to twist Kellan’s arm to bust you out of the inn.”

  “It’s ridiculous that I have to be shut up with those people like a common criminal. The women are so catty. José—I mean, Joe—is gone, yet they’re still bitter that he paid me a little extra attention. They should realize carrying resentment destroys their looks. I try to let things go for that reason alone.”

  “It’s a good policy, whatever your motivation,” I said. “Why don’t you just flirt with Collin and James to keep your skills sharp until you’re back on the dating circuit? They’re both attractive men.”

  She offered a cluck of disgust. “They’re José wannabes, which obviously has no appeal to me now.” Percy emerged from the back to land on her shoulder and she gave a little scream. “Get your fur away from me, you cur.”

  “We talked about this. Only a dog can be a cur.”

  “Or a man,” she said. “And that’s why I’ve decided to end my rotation.”

  I turned off the engine and looked at her. “What? Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t want to put myself in such a vulnerable position again.” She pinched her cheeks to bring color and leaned over to do the same to me. I swatted at her just as she had at Keats. “I’m going to devote all my attention to my salon and my children.”

  My stomach lurched at that but at least the attention would be spread across six of us, and hopefully the grandsons she mostly ignored. Sweet girls she could dress up in secondhand finds would have stood a better chance of getting noticed. At least Daisy seemed content with Mom’s benign neglect of her twins.

  “Marketing the salon is a great idea,” I said. “Maybe I could help.”

  “Thank you, darling, but I’m afraid your reputation will only hurt my business. The name Ivy Galloway carries instant associations with murder.”

  “Excuse me?” I pushed the car door open. “You’re the one who hasn’t been cleared of murder—so soon after being cleared of the one in your salon.” I slammed the door and continued speaking as she emerged. “Your reputation doesn’t help my business, either.”

  “Piffle,” she said, easing Buttercup’s door closed. “I’d thank you to be gentle with my favorite child. Buttercup never has sharp words that cut a mother’s heart.”

  “Could you do me a favor and try not to pick any fights tonight?” I said, letting Keats and Percy take the lead to the house. “People might bait us and we need to be strong and resist… for the sake of our fresh complexions.”

  “I agree with you there. Plus if I resist their traps, maybe the chief will let me go back to the salon. I need to be working.”

  Those were words I’d rarely heard from my mom. Once my siblings and I had started financing her, most of her efforts were half-hearted at best. Before the salon launched, she mainly worked to socialize or get staff discounts.

  “We’re going to stick to you like burrs tonight,” I said. “Cause any trouble at all and into Buttercup you go. I won’t have your antics coming between Kellan and me.”

  She glanced up at me with mild approval. “I’m pleased to hear you say that, Ivy. Because as much as the chief is a thorn in my side, I’d rather have him around than not. A woman can’t have too many police officers in her life.” In the front hall, she handed me her coat and added, “You’d do well to keep your own antics from coming between you.”

  I hung our coats on the last empty hook and guided Mom into the crowd. Percy slipped away immediately but I assigned Keats to keep an eye on Mom. To her great annoyance, he kept herding her back to me as she tried to mingle.

  We found Hazel in the dining room, sitting at the head of the long oak table that had been a wedding gift from her grandfather to his bride.

  “Hazel,” I said, “you look wonderful. And happy.”

  She pushed her chair back and gestured to the marmalade fluff curled up on her midnight blue velvet dress. Percy always favored Hazel and she was willing to pay the price in dry cleaning.

  “Ivy, I’m so sorry about what happened,” she said. “But we won’t speak of it tonight.”

  My eyes almost teared up at the kindness in her voice, but I just nodded my thanks. “Let’s speak of what’s happened to this table, instead. Last time I saw it the finish had taken a terrible beating from hundreds of claws.”

  Hazel’s home had been overrun with cats for a time but she’d reclaimed it and turned it around quite quickly.

  “Michael,” she said, simply. “He’s been coordinating contractors to restore the place. The table he refinished himself because he knew it was that important to me. Honestly, I wouldn’t have hosted anyone until it was back to its former glory. Now it is.”

  Her nephew was at the other end of the long table describing the project to my mother, who was making a better effort than usual to feign interest in renovations.

  “He’s a good man,” I said, raising my hand to signal Keats.

  “Oh, leave it,” Hazel said. “Dahlia’s a pistol but Michael could use the distraction. How is she holding up?”

  “Showing some wear and tear,” I said. “Not literally.”

  In fact, Mom was wearing a red lace dress over a black slip that was quite stunning. She’d explained earlier how she stitched three separate dresses together to create it, and I’d glazed over in much the same way she was while Michael discussed sanding the old table. And, I supposed, in much the same way people glazed over when I talked about tending my livestock, or worse, my manure pile. I was hardly in a position to judge.

  “I admire Dahlia’s resilience,” Hazel said. “I daresay it’s something all four of us have in common.”

  I nodded. “Yet with all the challenges we’ve faced, we still have energy to give something back to our community. It was kind of you to open your doors to this crowd when I couldn’t.”

  “My pleasure and civic duty,” she said. “I’m one of the few who remembers this town in full splendor. I want to help restore Clover Grove, just as we’re doing with this house.”


  Mandy McCain circulated with trays of punch and finger foods alongside a couple of young waiters I recognized from the Berry Good Café. They were all wearing white shirts, black pants and name tags. I stopped one of them to grab some punch for Mom and was shocked to find myself face-to-face with Tish Ramsey. I looked down to see if she was wearing her stilettos and was reassured to find she was.

  “Punch?” she asked, with a smirk.

  “Yes, thank you, Tish.” I fumbled for my purse. “Let me tip you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Miss Bingham included a gratuity.”

  “I want to. I know you need—”

  She turned away, saying, “I don’t need anything from you, Ivy Galloway. Respect my privacy, please and thank you.”

  The crowd parted as she wobbled off and I saw Ryan Snopes melt away to avoid her. This must be excruciating for him, but I couldn’t help but admire Tish a little for following through on her commitment to repay him.

  There was clapping from a small podium near the grand fireplace in the living room. After passing the punch to Mom, I took Hazel’s arm to lead her there. When we met, she’d used a walker, and then downgraded to a cane. Now she was quite steady without either one but I didn’t trust the rest of the crowd not to reverse that.

  Jilly was on the podium looking gorgeous in the pink dress I’d bought from Chez Belle to replace the one Drama Llama stained with spit. Her hair hung in long ringlets and I think the silence fell more from admiration than anything else. Asher stood as close as he could, staring up at her raptly. I’d worried people wouldn’t take her seriously tonight—either because she was a newcomer, or because of the trouble at Runaway Farm. Clearly I’d underestimated the miracles good looks and confidence could work, even with a tough crowd.

  Long before Jilly turned chef at the inn she’d held throngs like this in her sway. Corporate executives hired her to deliver motivational speeches, even though it led to losing some people, who hired Jilly afterward to place them in new jobs. Most staff just went to their own jobs more inspired to excel. She was that good.

  While she commanded their attention, I looked around, trying to identify women with names that might match the missing key fobs. I was still missing the H, the B and the N. But despite knowing all the lifers and many of the newcomers, I couldn’t place the likely victims of Joe Barker’s so-called charms.