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

by Ellen Riggs

  “Isn’t this the worst?” Cori Hogan said, taking Edna’s seat. “I’m only doing it for the dogs.”

  She was wearing a sharp black suit and dressy boots that could get her through an urgent rescue if necessary. But she hadn’t given up the gloves of attitude. The “formal” version was a lightweight knit with some sheen, the orange flares less garish. Even Cori would compromise if it served animals.

  Bridget took the seat on my other side and suddenly I felt better. It wasn’t a hug but it was something even better. Acceptance. They didn’t care how I dressed. They measured me only in relation to my caring for animals. On that scale I knew I ranked pretty high.

  “You know what you need?” Bridget said. “Alpaca therapy.”

  She pulled out her phone and played some clips from the video shoot. There was very little of José in her footage, so it didn’t remind me of my inadequacies as a sleuth. I took the phone out of her hand and watched Alvina whirl and twirl for my brother on that clear sunny day, when life felt full of promise.

  Handing back the phone, I stared into space. “What?” Cori said.

  “I don’t know. Something.” I couldn’t put my finger on it. “I wish Keats were here.”

  “I wish Beau were here, too,” Bridget said. “I only have half a brain without him.”

  “Same,” I said.

  “That’s where we differ,” Cori said. “Without Clem, my border collie, I am still the smartest person in the room. With him, I’m three times as smart.” She flexed her gloves. “It’s all in the math, folks.”

  I was still laughing when Collin returned, and offered a little bow to me. Edna was spinning with James now, keeping up very well for a woman of any age. I liked that they’d treated our senior companion with such respect, so I surprised myself by accepting.

  “Ooh,” Cori said. “Chief Hottie’s gonna be jealous.”

  I grinned at her as I got up. “He’s allowed to dance on the job too if he likes. All in a day’s work.”

  “Dancing is work,” Collin said, offering his arm as we went out to the floor. “The job is to make it look effortless.”

  “Collin, I’m wearing steel-toed boots. I could break your feet.”

  “Don’t think about your boots.” He tapped his temple. “It’s all up here, Ivy. Just follow my lead and you’ll forget everything else.”

  Wasn’t going to happen. Nothing could stop my mind from spinning except for one dog whose mind spun constantly for me and gave me some downtime.

  There were a few false starts. I kept trying to wrestle Collin for the lead as if he were my stubborn sow, Wilma. After I accepted my role as follower, it wasn’t so bad. For a moment or two, I enjoyed the spangled light from the mirrored ball on the ceiling and smiled at the sight of Jilly trying to show Asher the steps.

  “Focus and let go,” Collin said.

  “Aren’t those contradictory?” I asked, as he maneuvered me skillfully around the floor. For him, it probably felt like driving Buttercup or worse, the truck. Especially when he had three accomplished partners waiting for their turn. Arlene, Stacia and Maeve were all enduring lesser dancers with stoic smiles.

  “Not at all,” he said. “Release your preconceptions of what you should do. Just focus and let go. Trust that all will unfold as it should.”

  His tone was soothing, almost hypnotic. Eventually I stopped thinking about my boots and started listening to the music, hearing the beats, feeling the beats. Collin whirled me round and around and we covered the entire dance floor many times over. Jilly’s green eyes widened in shock, and then squeezed shut as my brother stepped on her.

  Asher just needs to let go, I thought. Focus and let go. We weren’t raised that way.

  One song, two songs. We were well into the third when the trance broke. “Oh!” I said. “Collin, I have to go. It’s bedtime for the animals.”

  “Just one more dance,” he said. “You’re a natural.”

  That was exactly what I needed to hear to keep backing away. Slowly at first. By the time I reached the parking lot, I was running.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “What’s wrong?” Kellan’s voice boomed over the speaker as I drove home.

  “Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice. I thought if we talked, the truck wouldn’t stall as much.”

  He laughed, and some of the tension drained out of me instantly. “You really do flatter me, Ivy.”

  “It’s a compliment. To say my obstreperous truck likes your voice. You’re the truck whisperer.”

  “Far from it,” he said. “But hopefully I help the obstreperous truck’s driver when she’s had a hard night.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “It wasn’t hard. I danced with Collin.”

  “Am I supposed to be jealous? Because I’m not. I trust you.”

  “Good, because Collin is definitely not my type. More like my mom’s type. But here’s the thing, Kellan. While I was dancing with him… he actually felt like my type.”

  “Okay, now I’m slightly jealous. Satisfied?”

  “No, no, no. What I’m saying is that I finally get what was going on with the women José swindled. This dancing thing… When you’re with a master, it almost transports you. Collin isn’t as skilled as José by his own admission. Yet I forgot about my work boots. I forgot about the emu. I even forgot about Keats for nearly ten minutes. That’s gotta be a record.”

  Kellan was laughing again. “You wore work boots to the gala?”

  “Well, yeah. You weren’t there. I only dress up for you. Willingly, anyway. Sometimes under duress for my mom.”

  “Now I’m truly flattered.” His voice deepened and sent a rush of sparks up my spine.

  “Whoa. Whoa, chief. Turn down the smolder. Got no time for that till the killer’s behind bars.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “But I’m sitting here with a pile of paperwork trying to put the pieces together and… I miss my girlfriend.”

  “I miss you, too. I’m sorry if I’ve stepped on your work boots lately, Kellan. The more times this murder thing happens, the more flustered I get, it seems. I want to grab all the clues and hoard them so I can fix it.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I know you tell me what I need to know anyway.”

  “By which point you’ve usually figured it out. Did you find the Langman’s antique safe?”

  “Not yet. But thanks to Percy we probably have the key for it when we do. I’m guessing B is for Barker. How about the mysterious N key fob? Any luck?”

  “No, and it’s annoying because I feel like I should know. That if I just turned around fast enough I’d find the truth standing right behind me.”

  He sighed. “I’ve ruled out everyone, pretty much. There’s not a scrap of evidence to suggest the dancers did it, and the locals look clean, too. I’m going to need to go further afield.”

  “That’ll take forever. Can you at least send the dancers home?”

  “Tomorrow,” he said. “I’m going over everything one last time tonight.”

  “Switch on your intuition,” I said. “And I will, too.”

  “Right. Let’s focus and let go.”

  “Hey! That’s what Collin said about dancing.”

  “Makes sense. Dancing is somewhat intuitive too. Let’s see where that takes us and talk tomorrow.”

  I was almost at the farm now and starting to feel a little anxious. “Can I call you when I get home? There’s no one else there. I mean, except Keats, Percy and fifty animals, including a large jumpy bird.”

  “You can call me anytime, all the time. If I’m not in the middle of a takedown, I’ll talk you through whatever you need.”

  I laughed. “You got it. Thanks to you, I haven’t stalled once.”

  “Keep it that way. And when you’re finished with the critters, lock yourself inside until Asher gets there.”

  “And Edna,” I said. “I feel safe with her.”

  There was a long pause at the other end. “I can’t say I’
m flattered about being on par with Edna Evans, octogenarian and noted wing nut.”

  “She’s not as crazy as she used to be. Or maybe I’m crazier than I used to be. But I find her in normal range now.”

  He snorted. “She wears fatigues, drives an ATV and likes using a crossbow.”

  “You need friends like that in your bunker. She’s learning to throw pots now so that we can have crockery after the zombie apocalypse.”

  “Is that right? Well, I’ll never make crockery for you, Ivy. I want you to know my limitations.”

  “But you’ll bring so much more to the bunker,” I said. “And I bet you could use a crossbow.”

  “Wouldn’t mind giving it a try,” he said. “Take down a zombie or two.”

  “That’s the spirit. You’re definitely my first choice for the bunker.”

  “Before Keats?” he asked, slyly.

  “Keats and I count as one unit,” I said. “So you’re my first choice. Alongside Percy.”

  “I still beat the pig and the emu,” he said.

  “There’s no room in the bunker for them, unfortunately. Or Drama and the thugs. Luckily zombies only eat human brains, so the critters will be safe.”

  “Is that true?” He sounded startled. “I mean, in zombie lore? Obviously it’s not true for real.”

  “Totally true. That’s why Edna has a helmet in Buttercup’s trunk right now.”

  He sighed and I could tell he was shaking his head. “Flirting with you is always interesting. Gotta keep my wits about me.”

  “Bye, Chief,” I said, turning into my lane.

  “Call me to tell me you’re safe inside.”

  “Promise.”

  Keats frolicked as if I’d been gone for two days instead of two hours. He raced ahead of me to the barn with Percy, two furry streaks that had no problem focusing and letting go. They were always fully, intently present in the moment. Well, mostly. Keats had more angst than most dogs and he probably siphoned most of that out of me. Thankfully, being a working dog, he never lacked for constructive outlets.

  There wasn’t much work left in the barn, and I vowed to avoid the temptation to work the manure. Tonight, I’d keep last call short and get a good night’s sleep to bolster my intuition.

  Starting my rounds in the barn, I checked on food, water and bedding, and offered treats that appealed to each stall’s residents. Then I popped into the henhouse to make sure the new water heater was working. The small peeps and the ruffle of feathers soothed my nerves.

  The respite was momentary, however, because the next stop was the shed Charlie had cleared out to hold the emu overnight. The big bird apparently didn’t mind the cold, but I had to witness that for myself over the coming days. Besides, she was quite a climber and I really didn’t want to be chasing a bird that could clock 30 mph through the bush in the dark. The golf cart didn’t go that fast even on smooth terrain.

  She—if indeed it was a female—was sitting comfortably on a stack of old blankets in the corner and didn’t move as I gave her a wave. I had decided not to name her. One thing I’d learned is that naming a creature basically replaced the “temporary” sign. The name made it mine. And as much as I wanted to throw open our doors to all rescues, there had to be limits. As Charlie always said, they had to fit together in a cohesive community. Adding a calf was no big deal. Adding an exotic bird was another matter entirely. It would be fun to see a huge emu egg, though. And even more fun to see her run. Full out, like she would in her native Australia. The greyhound of the bird world.

  “I should get an ATV,” I mused aloud, after locking the barn. Keats, Percy and I made our way to the last stop, the camelid pasture. “Edna loves hers and it would be way better than a golf cart in a zombie uprising. A golf cart isn’t a survivalist vehicle. It’s preppy rather than prepper.”

  Keats offered a skeptical blue eye.

  “Right,” I said. “Focus and let go. There’s no such thing as zombies. But it doesn’t hurt to be ready.”

  Alvina broke away from the others and came to the fence to visit me—something she hadn’t done since the night of the murder. Her interest was more about the biscuit tin under my arm but I’d take what I could get. I practically shoved the first treat into her mouth, expecting Drama and the thugs to swarm over and try to mug me. The donkeys were always ravenous and would chew off my sleeve given half a chance. Tonight they stayed in their corner, probably plotting something nefarious. The two donkeys had formed a V with the llamas behind them. It was an interesting formation because I’d put my money on Drama any night of the week.

  “What’s up with the thugs, girl?” I said. “Are they hazing you for being the fan favorite?” She accepted another biscuit, but when I tried to pat her neck, she pulled away. “Fine. Play hard to get. You’re a one-man woman.” She tried to reach under my arm for the tin and I backed away. “But I hear you like Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, just like Mom always did, and I can carry a tune.” I hummed “Walk Like a Man” and she stared at me with her big eyes. In this case I was probably imagining the skepticism. “Fine, I’m not a man and I’m not walking away from you or even Drama and the thugs. You got me there.”

  Keats gave a little whine to hustle me along. Already I’d been out here longer than I intended. But if Alvina was cracking open a little, I didn’t want to rush her.

  “How about this one instead?” I started singing, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.”

  Alvina took a step closer and rested her chin on the fence. I held my ground. Maybe she was going to spit on me, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I kept singing and she started to hum, too. Her happy sound. I gave her another biscuit and her big brown eyes locked on mine as she crunched. We were having a moment—a communion—for the very first time. My heart filled with joy and I did a little spin and waved my free hand. If I could get her to dance with me, it would make a stinky week smell a whole lot sweeter.

  Keats gave another whine, this one more urgent.

  “Cut me some slack, buddy,” I said. “Alvina and I are bonding.”

  When I glanced down, his eyes weren’t on us but the lane. My singing had drowned out the sound of an approaching vehicle.

  “They’re home already?” I said. “Bummer. I wanted an hour alone by the fire.”

  But it wasn’t Buttercup or the sedan Asher had borrowed for the evening. It was a construction grade pickup truck even larger than mine. Alvina gave a guttural grunt behind me and Keats growled as the driver pulled into the parking lot and rolled down the window.

  I was starting to worry when Simon Rezek stuck his curly head out and grinned.

  “Hey, Ivy. Good to see you getting your groove on with your livestock. Maybe we should cover that in my hobby farm sessions.”

  I laughed. “Hey, Simon. Can’t a girl bust some moves with her alpaca in the dark without getting a reputation?”

  “Not in this town,” he said. “All you have to do is breathe wrong to get a rep.”

  “Sadly, I have good reason to know. Dancing in the dark with my animals is the least of the gossip.”

  “People don’t realize how just a few words can slice someone’s reputation to bits,” he said.

  I walked to the truck. “One minor indiscretion and you’re digging yourself out of a very deep hole for the rest of your life. It’s easier to move.”

  “Some holes are too deep,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “They can ruin your business. Your health. Your marriage. Everything. If you moved, the hole would follow.”

  Obviously we weren’t talking just about me anymore. “You okay, Simon? If someone’s been trash-talking you, I’ll send my pig after them. You’re the third nicest guy in Clover Grove.”

  “Third?” His teeth gleamed in the dark truck.

  “After Kellan and Asher. Maybe tied with Charlie. Gotta keep him on my side now that there’s an emu to worry about.”

  “You’re good people, Ivy,” he said. “Shame about what’s happened here.” His han
d gestured around the farm. “You deserved better.”

  “Aw, thanks, Simon. We all hit a rough patch now and then. It’ll pass.”

  “Hope you’re right,” he said.

  “What brings you here so late?” I asked.

  He rattled a bag on the passenger seat and then handed it to me. “Still owed you these.”

  I looked in the bag and saw the missing toe trimmers from my list. “You didn’t have to rush, but thanks. Alvina has a split nail and I thought that might be why she wasn’t dancing. Turns out she was just depressed. The emu perked her up.”

  Simon laughed and it sounded oddly hollow floating above me on the cold air as he looked around. “Where is everybody?”

  “Fundraising gala over in Dorset Hills. My guests are dancing their blues away, and they’re not alone. There seems to be a real appetite for ballroom dance. Both men were talking about setting up shop in the studio.”

  “What?” Simon sounded alarmed. “We don’t need that ballroom crap around here. Didn’t the last loser prove that?”

  Keats was leaning against my shin and I could feel, rather than hear, his nonstop, rolling growl. “You got Gregor in the back seat?” I asked.

  Simon shook his head. “Sent him home with Anne. She doesn’t like being alone these days.”

  “Yeah, me either.” Not when my dog puffed to twice his normal size. Not when the blades on the tool in my hand fit the exact description of the murder weapon. And especially not when I’d seen my old clippers in Simon’s hand in Bridget’s video earlier in the evening. “In fact, I promised Kellan I’d go right inside and call him after singing Alvina a lullaby.”

  Alvina wasn’t dozing off anytime soon. I could see her moving along the fence behind me and she let out a screech like I’d never heard before. Drama and the thugs started pacing in a restless circle.

  “What’s up with Alvina?” Simon asked, sweeping off his ever-present baseball cap. There was just enough light to show a sheen of perspiration on his balding head.