by Ritter Ames
“How about something a little more rustic?” Kate asked. “I’m sure the photographer will use your kitchen for at least one shot anyway, to get the bill paying station and wall planner, if for nothing else. In thinking outside of the house and barn, I noticed some outbuildings, weathered red and white, painted to match the barn. They’re behind the goat pen and a little way into the trees. One even looked like it had at least one window. Could we appropriate that building? It would give the photographer both the door and window to get different frame perspectives if needed. I even promise to wash the glass if necessary.”
“The shed with the best light holds the farm’s garden things.” Liz frowned in concentration. “I use the window to help seedlings grow protected. But there aren’t any electrical outlets run out there, and I doubt I could get wi-fi.”
“Remember what we said last night,” Meg said. “At this point, everything is going to be pretend anyway. We’ll just make it work. Run extension cords for lights, load web pages onto your laptop at the house, then show the saved versions on the screen for the photo shoot.”
“Good idea. And the goats will probably add a lot of character and charm to an outside shot, too,” Liz agreed.
“Absolutely,” Kate said. “Shall we go check it out? See how we need to start?”
“First the shed’ll have to be unloaded, and re-painted inside.” Liz ran fingers through her brown curls, green eyes showing her mind was thinking over lists. She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket and said, “I’ll get David to help me. He’s in town now anyway, so I’ll text him to buy some white interior paint. Our intern may be around this afternoon, so I can leave the animal duties to her and focus on painting the new office.”
“Can we get in to take measurements?” Kate asked.
“Oh sure. I hate that you have to start all over again, but I hate worse you had to find the body last night.” Liz’s phone dinged, and she added, “Looks like David is about done with the other errands. He’ll get the paint and be back soon if we need him.”
The three women rose from the round table and headed for the back door. An unmarked police car remained parked out of the way, half-hidden by the side of the barn. Liz added, “The police sealed off the front area of the barn so we can’t get in at all through the entrance. There’s a detective in there going back over the room now that the crime scene people are gone. However, the back half of the barn, where I have my animal patients, is okay for us to go into. If you don’t think the shed will work, we can set me up in a stall or something.”
“We may use a stall for a second site. To show you have your home, your writing business, and your rescue business,” Kate said. “Keep them all delineated if the photographer thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Figure it will likely depend on whichever publishing assistant comes to ride herd on photo day,” Liz said. She followed them out then turned to lock the back door.
“New precaution?” Meg asked, nodding at the key in the author’s hand.
“David thought it was a good idea. Frankly, it goes against my nature, but I recognize when I need to bow to superior wisdom.” Liz smiled. “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”
Sunshine brightened the yard and the view was green everywhere Kate looked. Huge evergreen trees stood sentinel along the north line of the property, likely planted to block north winds. Healthy rose bushes anchored the far corner of the house and a bed of wildflowers bordered the fence. As they neared the outbuilding they’d been discussing, the goats began a group cry of welcome or alarm. Kate couldn’t tell which, but the fact they got nearer the fence instead of running away seemed a good sign.
Daylilies in pinks, oranges, and yellows grew haphazardly near the front of the shed adding a nice lightness to the area. As Liz climbed the wooden step and fought to push open the weathered door, Kate asked. “Did you plant these lilies, or are they wild too?”
“Transplanted them there, but they grow wild on the place. Don’t know that my aunt didn’t plant some originally.” The door moved about six inches and stopped. Liz put her shoulder into it and with a mighty heave, and a merciless screech from the door, the opening increased another foot. “Guess we’re going to have to sidle in at first. I’ll get David to take the door off the hinges, and I’ll text Josh to ask him to bring tools over to file it down. He’ll get it working well in a fraction of the time it would take me.”
“This is fine,” Meg said, sliding into the shed and appearing simultaneously in the window. “Katie, you have the tote bag, right?”
“Yes, and I’ll make sure the notepads get back in today before we leave,” Kate said, pulling the tote from her shoulder and removing the pads, pens, and tape measures.
“Then I’ll leave you both to it.” Liz walked backward to the barn as she spoke, “I need to check my patients and dose them all, but I’ll come back when I’m finished. I’m sorry there’s no electric light in the shed, but you should find a flashlight inside, and I’ll bring a battery powered LED lantern from the barn.”
Alone in the shed, Kate and Meg looked around to gain a sense of the options for the space. Shovels, rakes, and hoes stood bunched and singly in one corner and along the wall. A narrow wheelbarrow took over the area next to the door’s short wall, holding several sacks of cement. Stacked wooden crates under the window formed an impromptu potting table, with seedlings in pots and plastic containers thriving in the sheltered sunlight. The opened ends of the crates showed a hodgepodge of trowels and handheld shovels, along with sacks of plant food and potting soil, their tops rolled over and clipped shut with clothes pins to keep the contents fresh.
The working ends of the long-handled tools were mostly clean, though a small amount of dirt was scattered on the unstained board floor. The inside walls had been painted a light gray some years before, but time had weathered the look to a darker tone over most of the space. The faded color, coupled with no electric light, left the shed too dim and shadowy without some adjustments for their plans, even with the window and partly open door.
“I don’t know, Katie. This space looks tiny. Somehow it seemed bigger outside. And it’s kind of dark too,” Meg said.
“Don’t give up yet. Once Liz and David get the walls paint fresh white, you’ll see a big change. Maybe leave off the door entirely, or open it flat against the wall so more light can be pulled in that way. We just need to organize for light as well as space and come up with some options.” Kate snapped the rubber band on her left wrist.
“Something tells me you’re not as optimistic as you sound.” Meg grinned and pointed at the green band.
Kate smiled. “I just need to get task oriented. This is all new and different, so slightly overwhelming with the animals and the rest. All it takes is for me to keep my focus on why we’re here.”
Meg gave her in a quick one-armed hug. “I’m right beside you, remember. Let me know when things are too much and I’ll get you clear of things whenever I can.”
“I know you will. Thanks.” Kate sneezed twice. “Wow. After we get our measurements, we probably better get this space swept and dusted a bit. I have my Swiffer in the van, and we can use that to do the walls and corners, too. Get dust and spider webs that way so they can get a faster start on painting. Still, it isn’t as musty smelling as I’d imagined.”
“That’s because someone is in here often,” Meg said. “Trust me, the door may be hard to open, but someone comes through it regularly.”
“But the wheelbarrow,” Kate said. “How do they get it in and out?”
Meg shook her head. “Look. The tire’s flat. Unless you buy the high priced solid rubber tires, it’s almost as cheap anymore to buy a new wheelbarrow anytime you get a flat. Sad wasteful fact in our disposable economy, but it’s nice to see one repurposed this way. My bet is the wheelbarrow is in here all the time to hold anything that needs to stay dry and off the floor.”
“So we could use it for files?”
“Good idea.”
Kate pursed her lips, thinking. Then she mused. “Suze has some thin magnetic flowers that could decorate the sides, or we could cover it with draped cloth or old feed sacks.”
“You don’t want to paint it too?”
“No. Paint might take away from its regular use for them. I think between magnets and duct tape we can have the wheelbarrow looking lovely in a matter of minutes. And just think of all the files it can hold for easy access. Perfect!”
With a pull of the measuring tape, Meg said, “Okay then. You hold this end and we’ll see how big this shed really is.”
The task didn’t take long. Kate ran back to the van and grabbed her dust moping tool. As the footages were recorded and double-checked, she held the pole and ran the end along the walls and floor, the cloth growing a darker gray with every sweep. Then they took a few minutes to catalog what they saw and note every impression they had for utilizing the space in the best possible way. The building was small but had the potential to give the same kind of cozy feel they’d felt in the tack room that Liz normally used as office space. The tack room which was currently off limits to everyone but the cops.
Despite the cloth catching so much of the dirt, dust motes floated in the sunlit space around the window, exactly as Kate remembered seeing in the barn. She was already mentally hanging gingham curtains in front of the medium-sized pane. The goats were in sight and standing at the closest railing of the nearby pen, their curiosity shining brightly on their cute faces. As the animals watched the activity at the shed, their bleating almost sounded like questions directed at Kate and Meg.
“For a day-to-day office this wouldn’t make it most of the year,” Kate said. “The walls would have to be insulated and electric run out here. But for our proposed mock-up, I think it’ll be a terrific substitute and close enough to the room in the barn to keep the spirit of the truth.”
“Yes, and give the feeling of frugal functionality Liz wants to employ, but with shovels and rakes as wall art instead of ropes and bridles,” Meg replied. She glanced at the crates under the window. “But we need to find something to use for a small desk.”
“Could we make a drop-down table like she uses in the barn?”
“Maybe...” Meg stepped back and folded her arms. “But this might be worth a trip to Mr. Jolly’s instead.”
“Good idea. My girls love to go and explore his shop,” Kate said.
“Well, shop might be a little too grand of a term for Mr. Jolly’s place of business, but my boys love it too.”
Mr. Jolly was a local “picker” who worked out of a couple of glorified sheds and lean-tos that he used for storage and retail. Kate and her girls had been entranced by the place when Meg introduced the unique secondhand businessman, who was as much a Vermont institution as he was one of Hazelton’s treasures. Customers mostly let Mr. Jolly know what they needed and he showed up at their addresses in his Junque Jalopy, a modified 1960s model Chevy truck with an ever-changing camper on the back. He would then produce a couple of options he’d located to suit their needs. It was like having a personal garage sale shopper. But a visit to his business was always a way to get her girls smiling. The kids loved poking through his store, and he loved seeing them.
By the time Liz returned, Kate and Meg were deep in their lists of ideas for the space and the materials needed.
“Wow, you work fast,” Liz said. “David’s on his way back from town with a dual paint and primer. We’ll get this inside nice and pretty this afternoon. The shed is small, so once the building is emptied and we can get started, the painting will go quickly.”
“We want to keep the wheelbarrow in here and decorate it for files and such,” Kate explained. “And I have some bungee cords we can use to corral the long handled tools. Our thinking is to keep the space looking multi-functional, so your fans can get a better idea about how all facets of your life intertwine.”
Liz laughed. “It definitely does that. Okay, we’ll get the wheelbarrow back in and the hoes and shovels. Anything else you need?”
“A few things,” Meg said. “But we’re going to outsource that job to a friend of ours who’s terrific at finding the perfect items at rock bottom prices.”
“Sounds like my kind of friend. If you’ll let me know what it costs—”
“Don’t worry.” Kate held up a hand. “Part of your publisher’s contract includes incidental costs we find necessary along the way. Anything small doesn’t require approval as long as we don’t exceed the discretionary budget.”
“That’s a relief.”
Meg stepped closer to the wheelbarrow. “Katie had an idea of covering this with cloth or feed sacks. Do you get any kind of feed in burlap these days, or does everyone use heavy paper or the plasticized kind our dog food comes in?”
“No, cloth sacks aren’t really an option anymore.” Liz shook her head. “I’ll look around and see what I have on hand that may help too. I like the idea of having creative but rustic storage for the office space. Probably some companies still use burlap, but none I buy from. It’s multi-layered paper or plastic now, like the sack you saw for the goat feed yesterday.”
“That reminds me,” Kate said. “Do you need help moving the feed bag now that it’s opened? To keep it from spilling out? We noticed it last night after what you’d said about using another bag in the feed room.”
“Darnedest thing.” Liz planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t know why Bren opened the new one unless she was planning to use it to draw out the animals from the barn. But she would have still had to carry the dogs. The horse and pig could have made it out on four legs, but it would have been slow. The calf is still too weak and his back legs too injured to support him. It’s hard to believe Bren would let animals burn alive, but trying to coax them with the goat feed wouldn’t have been enough.”
“I can’t imagine she was thinking too clearly, anyway, if she was dumping gasoline ahead of trying to get them to safety,” Meg said, crossing her arms.
Liz nodded, her mouth in a thin line. “Makes my blood boil just thinking about it.”
“Could someone else have come by to feed?” Kate asked. “And ran across Bren that way?”
The author shook her head. “No one was scheduled to stop by last night. Late rounds and feedings were all on me. We have one intern, but she was only semi-scheduled for yesterday. She had some difficulty getting a ride over but came in to help get the horses back in during the latter stages of the roundup. Still, she works at her regular job Monday evenings and had to leave again. She caught a ride back with one of the other boys who helped roundup, so it couldn’t have been her opening the feed. We’ve had hikers pass through here before and bed down in our barn overnight. I spoke about it with the officer when I was first interviewed, but he didn’t offer any information back. I’m thinking someone like that was the reason for what happened in the barn last night when Bren came. The visitor smelled the gasoline then went a little bonkers and stabbed her. Realized what he’d done and ran away.”
“Do you have a lot of strangers come through and sleep rough in the barn?” Kate asked.
“Not too many, and not without asking. But there are several each year, some years more than others. Most come by the house and get our approval before they bed down. Hiking clubs know about us, and information like that gets shared across the internet. People always do a lot of hiking and climbing in the summer months, and since I wasn’t home a stranger wandering in wouldn’t have had anyone to ask.”
“Did the officer accept that hypothesis?” Meg asked. “Or was he skeptical?”
“I could tell it wasn’t a surprising idea to him,” Liz replied. “He’s lived in this general area his whole life, so he knows that kind of thing goes on. I don’t believe he thought I was just throwing out random possibilities for other suspects.”
Liz’s phone rang. “Oh, hi, Josh. Yes, sure, come on by and get it if you can. See you soon.”
As she slipped the phone back into her pocket, she said, “Perf
ect timing. David and Josh should both get here at about the same time. They’ll have this door off in minutes, and Josh can take it back to his place to work on the dragging end.”
“He has a shop at home?” Kate asked. “I just assumed he worked with animals.”
“No, he’s like everyone else around here,” Liz said. “Jack of all trades who does a little of everything, and does all of it pretty well. Josh has always been good with his hands, and he has a quick mind that can sort through problems with lightning speed. So someone in the area always has some job he can do.”
“He’s a one-man business?” Meg prodded.
“Pretty much. He’d make more money if he set up in a regular shop and had a location in town, but he likes setting his own hours and all. He just works as he wants to and for only the people he likes working with project to project.”
Kate looked out the window at the goats “He seemed easygoing when he brought the goats. I would have thought running a regular business would be his preferred thing.”
“He is easygoing most of the time,” Liz said and smiled. “And I believe being able to go or stay whenever he wants to helps keep him that way. Wouldn’t it be great if we all had that kind of option. David used to idolize him and followed him everywhere. But even as a kid my son realized Josh was never one to suffer fools. Though, he was always a ready hand to any friend who needed him.”
The women talked ideas and hauled out the crates from under the window. Kate pointed out where she thought shelves could be added for Liz to display pictures or any awards she’d received. Meg measured the small space on one side of the doorframe to see if it could hold a wooden office sign, and she said she planned to ask Mr. Jolly about it when they went to see if he had any desks. Liz joined her to see how much of the outside needed a touch up for color.
“Will you and David have time to get all the painting done? Or do you need Katie and me to stay and help?” Meg asked.