Organized for Scheduled Sabotage

by Ritter Ames

  “Yes, thanks so much, Mr. Jolly,” Kate said, giving the top a pat. The paint was weathered, but the surface was smooth. “I think this one will do nicely.”

  Each woman took an end to carry the desk out to the van, the shopkeeper opening doors ahead of them at every stage in the short journey.

  Kate closed the cargo door on the van and brushed her hands on her khakis. “Well, that’s it, Mr. Jolly. Let me get my purse and we’ll settle up the bill.”

  Minutes later, the women were on their way back to Liz’s farm, ecstatic with their finds and especially at how little it all cost.

  “I know I should be more excited about reusing the furniture than I am about the money we saved,” Kate said as she turned at the light. “But the businesswoman in me just shouts ‘Yay!’”

  Meg laughed. “I’ve had a few moments like that when I’ve left Mr. Jolly’s shop too. And when he does the looking for us too it’s a double-win.”

  When they arrived at the farm, Kate counted five horses in the pasture. “Look.” She pointed out the window. “Must mean the mare’s foot wasn’t seriously hurt.”

  “Small miracle after everything that’s happened,” Meg said, leaning forward in her seat.

  They saw Liz and David going in and out of the shed, so Kate pulled up by the barn and they walked over to see how things were going before hauling the new stuff over there. The outside of the small building had been scrubbed down, and David used a can of red paint to touch up faded spots on the siding.

  “Good morning,” Meg called. “It looks like you’ve been busy.”

  Liz popped her head out of the shed, the door swinging easily now on its hinges. “Yes, we’ve had an army of help on this. Come inside and see.”

  The walls were a clean light gray. “David thought the color would be better with flash photography than white,” Liz explained.

  “Regardless of the reason, it looks very nice,” Kate said.

  The space was empty, but they could see how much room they actually had to work with.

  “We’ll go ahead and start bringing stuff over from the van,” Kate said, “And we can line up some of the ideas for shots based on what we’d thought of when we drafted the survey. I figure your readers will likely wonder many of the same things as Meg and I did, so getting picture suggestions lined out will be better for making sure your story gets told the way you want.”

  “Oh, gosh,” Liz said, pushing back her short curls with one hand. “We’ve been so busy with the murder and what had to be changed after the police came, I’d forgotten all about the survey.”

  “It’s not important,” Kate assured her. She and Meg had discussed things as they drove over that morning and determined there was little to be gained at this point by having Liz fill out a questionnaire. “If you want to walk with us to the van, we can show what we have and tell you our ideas.”

  As they walked back, Liz said, “I asked a friend of mine to make me some curtains for the window. She’ll be by later. Said she had a rod that would fit and everything. She said she’d do a elasticized cover big enough to drop down into the wheelbarrow and still cover the sides.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Meg said. “Kate was going to use magnets, but we’ll have those to use for something else. Did you do the measurements for her?”

  “Just the window. She has a standard wheelbarrow like the one we stored in there and said she could whip something up quickly,” Liz replied. “I’m in awe of people who can sit down at a sewing machine and ‘whip’ anything up that looks decent later. I’d just be whipping myself if I tried.”

  “I’m right there with you,” Kate said, laughing. “I have a daughter who is a budding fashion designer and went to her grandmother for sewing expertise. I’d be lucky if she let me organize her sewing box.”

  At the back of the van, they pulled out the desk and assorted bags and bundles. The desk met with automatic approval, and Liz said, “Once we see what colors are in the curtains, I’ll send David to get a matching can of paint. It might be cute to let the desk match.”

  “These baskets probably aren’t a color we want to leave them,” Meg said. “But they were cheap and a good size, plus rattan works great spray painted.”

  Kate hoisted the rolled up floor covering. “This rug is completely neutral, but I thought it would help finish off the floor.”

  The other two women carried the desk between them, while Kate followed with the rug and a couple of the totes. When they got to the shed, David was finished with his touchups and had set the lid back on the paint can.

  “Hey, want me to paint the desk red?” he asked, holding up the can.

  “We’re waiting first to see what colors the curtains have,” Liz explained.

  The woven floor covering worked perfectly in the space. Large enough to accent the room, but not so big it overpowered.

  “If you want to move the wheelbarrow back in, we can start blocking out the spaces,” Kate suggested. “And where are the shovels and long-handled tools? We brought bungee cords to get those set in place.”

  Liz waved toward the other side of the shed. “We stood them up outside for now. David is going to clean them up before we put them back in here.”

  The rest of the day was a blur. The seamstress friend brought cute blue and white gingham curtains for the window, and a matching cover for the wheelbarrow. They all talked for a while, and the friend wanted to know all the details about what they were doing, as well as anything Liz would say about Bren’s murder.

  Sometime after noon, they went back to the house for sandwiches and lemonade, finishing off the rest of the ranger cookies for dessert.

  “I really hate to see the last of these,” Kate said. “Is it too late to put a condition for my employment that your son must give me this recipe when he comes home from the campout?”

  “Believe me, he’ll love sharing it,” Liz said. “Nothing makes Nathan happier than hearing someone likes something that he bakes.”

  In between all of this activity, Liz did her rounds caring for the sick animals. The police still had the front of the barn off limits, but she no longer had to have a chaperone to go anywhere inside the structure.

  By the time Kate and Meg were ready to leave, the shed had become a cute little office for Liz. “Oh, I love this,” she said, clapping her hands as they stepped back from hanging the rod and curtains.

  “Once David gets back with the blue paint for the desk it will be even better,” Kate said, kneeling to carefully reset one of the rattan baskets Meg had painted cobalt. “These baskets really turned out well, too. And you had enough paint for both of them after all.”

  “I know, amazing, right?” Meg said. “The only thing left to do is run the outdoor extension cords to see about lights for the shoot.”

  “We talked about that earlier, Liz,” Kate said, rising to her feet and turning. “We might want to see if your publisher wants the photographer to rent a generator instead of running long cords from the barn.”

  “Oh, I can get a generator,” Liz said. “We have a small one, but it’s in the wrong end of the barn at the moment. I’d rather borrow one from my neighbor than mention it to my publisher and have them worry about us being too rustic. I already had to let them know about the murder, and I’m thinking the quieter we all stay the better.”

  The dogs went into barking fits, and a blue pickup came into sight down the driveway. A second later it turned and bypassed the house, pulling up to the barn. A young man climbed from the cab, as the women walked over.

  “Ladies, this is Travis, Stacy’s brother,” Liz introduced them. “Travis, this is Kate and Meg.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Travis said in a soft voice, a silver ring glinting off his pierced eyebrow as he shook both their hands. He had a day’s growth of beard, black spacers in his ears, and a couple of visible tattoos that gave off a Goth vibe.

  Kate knew it was silly to be surprised at the tattoos and piercings since so many his age seemed to
o willing to ink and perforate themselves, but Stacy had looked so conventional, it was natural to assume her brother would be the same.

  A galvanized trough squatted in the back of the truck, its walls slanted to make it low enough for the little goats to easily reach the water. Liz touched the side. “Is this the one Josh mentioned for the goats?”

  He nodded and dropped the tailgate so he could slide out the water trough. “They’re in the pen?” he asked.

  “Right. Come on, and I’ll grab one side and help carry it,” Liz said. “Josh said he had a possible line on new owners for the goats. Did he mention them to you?”

  “Yeah, a new vet,” Travis replied, walking backward toward the pen. The curious goats scurried over to investigate the visitor with the gift. The water trough was set against the barn wall, near an outside faucet for easy filling. Travis turned the tap and the container was filled in minutes.

  As they walked out, Liz thanked him again for coming to help with the horse roundup. “And do you have the name and number of the vet so I can connect with him? Always like to network when I can.”

  He nodded. “I know.” At the truck cab, he pulled open the door and pulled a piece of notepaper from the pad attached to the dash. He searched across the dash, in the glove box, and along the floor, then made a sound of disgust. “Can’t find an ink pen.”

  “I have one,” Liz said. She pulled a plastic pen from her pocket. Travis thanked her and scribbled the name and number on the paper.

  The dogs set off another cacophonous round of barking, and a police car parked at the front of the house. Liz sighed. “More questions.”

  “I gotta go,” Travis said, crawling back into the cab and starting the engine.

  “Thanks for bringing the water trough by,” Liz said, then turned to the organizers. “You may as well call it a day, too. Every time someone comes by to ask me a few more questions it ends up taking a couple of hours before everything gets answered.”

  Kate spoke as she moved to the van, “I’ll grab the extension cords from the van and leave them in the shed. Even with a generator, we’ll likely need the cords for the shoot. It will be easier to just store them onsite, so I won’t accidentally forget them later.”

  “Okay, thanks again,” Liz called and waved. She turned and walked to meet the deputy striding her way.

  While leaving the cords, they grabbed their tote bags and strolled back to the van, watching as the deputy followed Liz to the back door of the house.

  “Why can’t they figure out she didn’t kill Bren?” Meg grumbled.

  “I know, it’s worrisome,” Kate agreed. “I want to yell and say to look somewhere else. There are plenty of other people who got mad at Bren. Except she was found here, so the additional questions make sense, I guess.”

  “I guess,” Meg said. “But I don’t like it.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ORGANIZING PIZZA DELIVERY

  There are some things you learn from experience—for the rest, there’s usually an app for that. In the case of pizza delivery, ordering two mediums instead of a large usually offers more pizza for about the same money. If you don’t want to figure the pie area to make the comparison yourself, there’s a handy online tool to use instead at https://www.omnicalculator.com/other/pizza-comparison And if there are any leftover to eat the next day, don’t heat the pizza slices in the oven or microwave. Reheat in a covered pan on the stovetop using low heat, and the crust will be crisp and the cheese will be awesome. In the McKenzie house, we’ve found a saucepan works best for this particular task, but a covered skillet can reheat more pieces at the same time.

  “I WOULD NOT HAVE PICKED Travis out of a crowd as Stacy’s brother,” Meg said, as they drove back to Hazelton. “Even without the extras, he doesn’t look anything like his sister.”

  “He’s so soft-spoken too,” Kate said, chuckling. “As if his look is so loud he offsets it by talking quietly.”

  “And sparingly. I think his longest sentence was when he said he couldn’t find an ink pen.”

  “Oh, darn. Can you grab my purse for me?” Kate asked.

  “Sure.” Meg took it down from the round loop that kept it in hanging on the driver’s seat headrest. “Do you want me to look for something?”

  “A silver pen. It’s in the front pocket. I need to leave it here in the cup holder or someplace I’ll see it. I picked it up in the barn the other night and I need to give it to Liz to give to Bren’s family.”

  “How do you know it’s Bren’s and not the murderer’s?”

  Kate explained the marks she discovered on the scrap from the feed bag. “So it has to be what Bren used to open the bag. Then she apparently dropped it when she got the food.”

  “Too bad it wasn’t the one Travis couldn’t find,” Meg said. “It would be nice to be able to do something to direct the police at someone besides Liz.”

  “The kids who helped bring in the stray horses that night were all questioned. Even Stacy, who hadn’t been at the farm, but exchanged words with Bren in the market. And when the police arrived this afternoon to question Liz again, they let Travis leave without any further questions. He had to have been irritated by Bren letting out the horses. Stacy implied as much when she confronted Bren in the store. But the police don’t seem to be looking as hard at him as a suspect as they are Liz, so he must have gone somewhere in Josh’s truck after the roundup and established an alibi.”

  “Yeah, but the officer who came today had Liz on his agenda. Letting Travis leave may not have meant anything,” Meg mused. “Travis had to catch a ride with Josh to get home, and came today in Stacy’s truck after Josh asked him to deliver the troughs. Since we’ve only known him to drive other people’s trucks, I wonder if Travis has a vehicle of his own.”

  Kate shrugged. “He could have a car that isn’t big enough to haul the trough he brought out today. Or maybe he rides a motorcycle.” She slowed down to make a turn onto the highway and continued thinking about the vehicle trading that went on Monday night. “I wonder why Travis kept Josh’s truck the other night, and Josh picked up Stacy’s from the garage after the new tires were mounted. Why didn’t Josh just leave Travis at the garage and keep his own truck?”

  “I suspect there’s something going on between Josh and Stacy,” Meg replied, grinning. “Or at least he wants there to be. My guess is that Josh had plans for the evening with Stacy—if the police hadn’t arrived and interfered.”

  “For Stacy’s sake, I still think it’s good that Josh arrived when he did,” Kate said. “Though I don’t believe it’s necessarily good for Josh. I’m really concerned he’s manufacturing an alibi for her, thinking he’s helping, without realizing how much trouble he’ll get into if he’s caught.”

  When they arrived home, their four children were playing two-on-two basketball in the McKenzie driveway, so Kate pulled up to the curb. “Want to come with me to check Keith’s progress on the deck?”

  “Sure.” Meg climbed out of the van and crossed the yard with her. They skirted the playing area, where Mark was attempting a shot and Suze was doing a great job of guarding. “Poor Mark doesn’t think he’s ever going to grow taller,” Meg whispered. “All the girls in his class are taller than he is, and even your daughters are nearly as tall and they’re two years younger. He just doesn’t appreciate that boys start their growth spurts later.”

  “Patience is tough. But he has to take some consolation in the fact both you and Gil are so tall. Mark will tower over everyone else before too long.”

  “Not soon enough for him.”

  They opened the gate and found Keith cutting boards to fit a space. The open area in the frame had been substantially filled in. He wouldn’t finish tonight, but Kate could tell he should have the work completed the next day.

  “Wow, Keith, this looks great,” Meg said. “When Kate asked if I wanted to come see how much you had done, I hadn’t realized you’d nearly completed the deck. You’ve done a great job on these cuts, too.” She point
ed to several pieces he’d previously sawed into shape and installed.”

  “He’s getting so good at this, I’m thinking it could be a sideline,” Kate said, grinning when her husband’s face turned from pleased to shock.

  “I think saving money doing our deck was a good idea,” he replied, moving away from the saw and miter. “But I don’t have any plans to expand my building options. Besides, my dad needs his tools back soon. My mom can’t go a week without thinking up something he can work on in their house.”

  A herd of running steps sounded behind them, signaling the end of the basketball game. “Hey, Mom,” Mark called. “Since Dad’s not going to be home for dinner, can we go get pizza?”

  “Yeah, pizza,” his little brother Ben seconded.

  “Can we do that too, Mom?” Sam asked.

  “Please, Mommy,” Suze pushed.

  “The ball’s in your court, Meg,” Kate said, but she flashed her I’m good with anything look.

  Meg assumed her Wonder Woman pose, with fists on hips, and addressed the children. “We mothers have put in a full day’s work today, so the idea of no cooking sounds great. But going to a pizza place and listening to all the noise inside isn’t as appealing. We’ll go for having Hazey Pie deliver, then you kids can continue your video game battles afterward if you’d like. However, delivery is the only option.”

  “Yay!” all four kids chorused.

  “Now go out and play another game of basketball and keep working up your appetites.”

  The kids nearly collided when they all hit the gate opening at the same time.

  Turning toward Kate and Keith, Meg said, “My work is done. Except for ordering the pizzas, naturally. Can we order you the handyman special, Keith?”

  He grinned. “Sounds primo. Do I have time to go up and shower?”