A Cop and a Coop

by Hillary Avis

  Eli leaned close and examined the ominously dark drips from all possible angles. “Well...I can’t say it isn’t. Now, is it human blood, is it Joe’s blood? I can’t say that, either. But I have a guy.” He winked at me, but then his expression grew serious as he studied my face. He reached out to touch my shoulder. “Hey, are you OK?”

  I shrugged off his hand and shook my head, trying to quash the willies crawling all over my skin. Was my cute little barn a murder scene? “Fine. I’ll be fine. Just...take the shovel, please.”

  He gave a brisk nod. “Don’t touch it. I’ll be right back.”

  “I already touched...” I began, but he was already outside, calling to someone named Blake. I felt something brush against my leg and nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was just Alarm Clock staring up at me. He clucked and stretched his neck up, turning his head to the side to get a better look at my hands, hoping for a treat. His cute expression reminded me that I had better things to do then quail at the sight of old yard tools. I had a flock to tend. “You ate all your food already? Did you save any for your friend?”

  I glanced over at Dr. Speckle and saw she was dozing in her bucket, her beak dipping down toward the straw where she’d made her nest. I hoped she’d give up on the eggs soon. Broody hens didn’t eat or drink much and only left the nest once a day, usually, and the whole experience was as hard on their bodies as pregnancy is on a human. I’d even heard of broody hens dying because they refused to give up the nest long after the eggs should have hatched. I might have to take the eggs away from her. Of course, I’d have to wear gloves...

  As if she had read my thoughts, Dr. Speckle jerked her head up and fixed me with a beady glare. But before I could reassure her, Eli returned with a guy I presumed was Blake. Blake carefully wrapped the shovel in a paper shroud before lifting it down from the nails and carrying it out like it was made of glass.

  “He doesn’t want to knock any flakes of blood—” Eli broke off before he finished the sentence when he caught sight of my face. My stomach roiled and I felt my whole body tingle and go hot. A sweat broke out and dizziness overcame me. It felt like the worst hot flash I’d ever experienced, and I leaned against the tarp-covered car to steady myself.

  “Maybe you should get some fresh air?”

  I nodded and, after a few deep breaths, headed out into the sunlight. I hoped it would have a sanitizing effect on my fear—not that my fear was rational in any way. Even if the shovel was what had cracked Joe’s skull, that was twenty years ago. It had nothing to do with me. Nothing had changed for me, not really. My coop plans might be delayed a bit, but I still had every chance to build my dream egg farm on this property, on my own terms.

  But the sunlight did the opposite. It illuminated every corner of the farm, showing the acres of apple orchard I had no idea how to harvest or prune, the crumbling cottage, the potholed driveway, the barn that had seen better days, the forensics crew tearing out the posts I’d already set so they could dig a big hole right where I wanted to build. This vehicle was out of control and I was supposed to be driving, but it felt like I was going to crash the whole thing into a brick wall. Maybe Eli was right when he said the farm was too much for one little girl.

  Too much for me.

  “What’s wrong?” Eli repeated.

  “I just...I just feel really alone.” Surprised by my own admission, I blinked back the tears that pricked my eyes.

  “You’re not,” he said stoutly, and then, seeing my skeptical expression, added, “I’ll prove it to you. Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  “But I need to finish—”

  “It can wait!” Eli tossed back over his shoulder. He was already halfway to his SUV. He turned to check if I was following and motioned me toward him. I glanced at the barn’s gaping black maw of a doorway and then back at Eli’s hopeful face. It wasn’t much of a choice.

  I threw my back into the barn door to close it and then trotted after him. He held the car door open for me—the door to the back seat. Unbelievable. And he knew it was obnoxious, because he was grinning at me.

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Department policy. My holster’s on my right hip, so someone in the passenger seat could grab—”

  “I’ll be grabbing something else if you’re not careful!” I said, sidestepping him to open the passenger door. “I can drive myself if you’re so worried about being attacked.” I slid into the seat and closed the door, pretending to ignore his slack-jawed face outside the window. He finally slammed the back door and jogged around to the driver’s side.

  “You know I’m going to get in trouble,” he said mildly as he fastened his seatbelt. “They’re all watching and someone’s going to write me up.”

  “Where are we going?”

  He put the SUV into gear and backed out of the parking spot. “I think you need to be among friends. I’m taking you to the Do or Dye.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not driving me to town just to chat with my girlfriends.”

  “I’m not?” He blinked innocently, his eyes trained on the highway as the Sutherlands’ blueberry fields flicked by.

  “I think you have an ulterior motive.”

  “I might.” He gave a little shrug as he took the Curves like a pro, leaning into the turns.

  I bit my lip to keep from grinning—I didn’t want him to know how much I was enjoying the ride.

  Chapter 15

  “Can’t you park around the corner?” I asked.

  “Why would I do that?”

  I craned my neck to see who’d see me exiting a sheriff’s vehicle. Old Irene Wertheimer was down by the post office; she couldn’t see past the end of the block so there was no danger there. A group of teenagers bunched at the corner, celebrating the freedom of the last day before school started with foot-high soft-serve cones. They were already darting looks at Eli’s SUV, which meant that stories of Leona’s scandalous arrest would be circulating within the hour. Better that than rumors of a budding romance, though.

  “Thanks for the ride!” I said, and hopped out, letting the door fall closed behind me so I didn’t hear Eli’s reply. To my dismay, he followed me out of the car. The bells on the salon door jangled as I pushed inside, and Ruth looked up from a magazine where she was sitting under a roaring hair dryer.

  She clicked it off and stood. “Nobody’s here, so I thought I’d try out some of the new demi-perm colors,” she said, pointing to the foils tucked into her springy hair. She hugged me and then stood back to take in my “Hens Before Mens” outfit before scrubbing the dirt off my forehead with a makeup wipe. I’d forgotten all about my barn-grime beauty treatment. “What’re you up to? Why the sheriff’s escort?”

  “I just needed to get out; it’s been a crazy day. Eli offered me a ride because I was a little dizzy,” I explained.

  “I tagged along because I hoped to speak with Tambra,” Eli added quickly. “Is she around?”

  So that’s what he was after—information about the case. I felt a little silly that I’d assumed his interest was romantic.

  Ruth shook her head. “She’s over at the park helping with the picnic.”

  “Guess that’s where I’m headed, then.” Eli gave me a brisk nod. “Hope a little girlfriend time helps you feel better, Leona.”

  After he left, Ruth looked at me, her face concerned. “Is everything OK? Are you sick?”

  I shook my head. “It was just hot flashes, I think.”

  “Ah.” Ruth nodded sagely. “You came to the right place, then! I have friendship, I have lavender face masks, I have turquoise and hot-pink hair dye.” Ruth ticked off the options on her fingers. “All proven antidotes to menopause.”

  I chuckled. “No fun colors for me. That face mask sounds great, though. I could use a little relaxation.”

  “You got it.” Ruth ushered me to a reclining chair and then bustled around the room gathering supplies. “I think I’ll have one, too, if you don’t mind. Fill me in on your day while I get ev
erything ready.”

  I settled myself into the chair like I was at my fancy therapist’s office in LA. “Well it all started when Anne Sutherland handed me a rooster in a box.”

  Ruth dropped something with a clatter. “What?!”

  “I know. And I found out that Walt has been surveilling my place with a telescope. Apparently he’s been doing it for years.”

  “Oh, yeah. I knew about that. Grandpa used to call him Neighborhood Botch behind his back because he was always up in everybody’s business. You know, like ‘Neighborhood Watch,’ but messed up.”

  I grinned and closed my eyes as Ruth wrapped a warm towel around my face, leaving my lips clear. The warmth radiated deep into my pores. Heaven. I heard her sit down in the chair beside me and let out a comfortable sigh.

  “We’re just going to do this for ten minutes or until the towels cool,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “Wake me up if I fall asleep. That’s what Tambra does. What does Eli want with her, anyway?”

  “This morning, she ID’d the dead guy in my yard. She really did know who it was. Oh yeah, and Eli thinks he was murdered.”

  “What?!” Ruth gasped and I heard her sit up, the foils in her hair crinkling.

  “I told you, it’s been a day.” I pulled one corner of the towel off my face so I could peek at her. “It’s Hobo Joe—remember him?”

  Ruth looked sick. “Of course I do. Gosh, it’s been so long, I’d totally forgotten about that guy. Grandpa was furious when he took off with the duck pond half-dug. We heard about it for years.”

  “Well, apparently he didn’t take off. Someone cracked him on the head and buried him in the pond.”

  Ruth laid back in her chair and put the towel back on her face. “That’s so awful. Poor man.”

  I fixed my towel, too. “He’d have been found earlier, but your grandpa decided to abandon the project. Any idea why he filled it in?”

  “No, you’d have to ask Rusty. I was so busy getting the Do or Dye off the ground back then that I wasn’t really paying attention to the farm, but Rusty was there every day. Grandpa was the brains of the operation, but Rusty was the muscle because Grandpa had a bad back.”

  “I did ask him. This morning.”

  I heard the crinkle of vinyl as Ruth sat up again. “You did?”

  I pulled off my towel—it was cooling off anyway—and met her eyes. “Tambra told me Rusty had a fight with Joe at the last bonfire night, so I went to his trailer to ask him about it. I didn’t tell Eli that, though,” I added guiltily. “I didn’t want to get your brother in trouble.”

  “I can’t believe he and Joe were fighting. I thought they were friends!”

  I nodded. “They were. He found out that Joe stole a telescope from Walt. Told him to return it or pay Walt back. But Joe refused, so they got into it. Rusty threatened to tell your grandfather, but Joe disappeared before he could do it.”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped. “Oooh, yeah, Grandpa had zero tolerance for thieves. He forgave many a character defect, but that was not one of them. I wouldn’t blame Joe for running off rather than dealing with my grandpa when he was angry.”

  “That’s what Rusty said. Anyway, Amos told him to fill in the pond, so he did. He thought maybe it was just a project Amos invented so there was a reason to employ Joe to begin with.”

  “I could see that. Here, let’s put these in the sink and move on to phase two—the mask!” Ruth gleefully snatched my towel away and returned with a bowl of purple gunk. She cackled as she smeared the gooey substance on my face. “This will get that dirt out of your pores! I know you think you want it there, but trust me...you’ll thank me later. Even farm girls need to keep it fresh.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I could feel the purple goo crack as I moved my lips; it was already hardening on my face. It was also heating up...like, really heating up and tingling to an alarming degree. I clutched the arms of my chair. “Is this even safe?!”

  Ruth flipped the sign on the door to “closed” and shut the blinds on the front window. “Deep breaths, Leona. Deep breaths.”

  She leaned toward the mirror and began applying the lavender mask to her own face. I tried to relax and follow her instructions, slowly breathing in the luscious scent of lavender essential oil and breathing out my stress and fear. I repeated a mantra over and over: My farm will be fine. Eli will solve Joe’s murder. I don’t need to hide behind dirt to be a real farmer.

  I might have even dozed off, because I startled when a timer dinged.

  “Let me get mine off and then I’ll do yours.” Ruth used a damp towel to remove most of her lavender mask and then, with a fresh towel, gently dabbed at my forehead. She still had a few thin smudges of purple around her eyebrows and temples.

  “You missed a spot.”

  “I’ll live. Just like you’re going to live when I do your makeup.” I started to protest, but she held up her hand. “Deep breaths. It’s not going to kill you. This is deep soul nurturing—”

  “But—!”

  She shushed me again. “Not for you! For me. This is for me. Indulge me, as your friend. I am not gifting you; you are gifting me. It’s the gift of trust. Now, gimme.”

  I couldn’t help breaking into a smile, despite the restrictive mask still on most of my face. “OK, fine! Do your worst. But then you’ll owe me the same favor down the road.” I rubbed my hands together as though I were hatching an evil plot.

  “Of course.” Ruth leaned over me to remove the mask under my chin, and I dutifully submitted to the rest of her ministrations—I didn’t say a word, even when she applied sparkly, plum-colored eyeshadow!

  OK, I might have said a curse word.

  “For that, I’m doing your hair, too!” Ruth said, her eyes glittering as she snapped the clamp on a curling iron menacingly. “And no peeking until I’m done!”

  She spun my chair around so I could no longer see in the mirror and turned on the radio. A Bangles song came on and we both belted out the chorus as she tortured my hair into obedience. The next song was one we recognized, too, and the third one had been the Prom song our senior year.

  “Last curl,” Ruth finally announced, rolling up the iron near my forehead. “Isn’t it funny to think that this music is as old now as the Fifties stuff we listened to on the Oldies station was when we were in high school?”

  “Hilarious,” I said drily. “I love being an oldie. Can I look now?”

  She stepped back to assess her work. “Yes, you look like a princess. Oh! I just had a thought!”

  “What? It doesn’t involve any more plucking, does it?” I checked myself out in the mirror. My face was hardly recognizable with its freckles hidden under a layer of paint, and my hair was—well, it was glorious. It was a dang golden halo. My grays looked like artful highlights rather than worn edges.

  “Nooo.” Her eyes danced, and she bit her lip eagerly. “Don’t say no, just hear me out! Tambra has all her old beauty pageant stuff stored in the back room. Do me a favor and put on one of her tiaras. It’ll be so fun!”

  Ruth’s idea of fun and mine seemed to be further apart than I remembered, but the look of childlike joy on her face was too pure to refuse. I was already painted and pasted up, so I might as well complete the illusion. I sighed. “I’ll wear one if you wear one. As long as you’re sure she won’t mind.”

  “No, she’ll love it. We’ll take pictures for her.” Ruth clapped her hands gleefully. She patted her head. “Let me rinse these out and then we can pillage the stash.”

  I watched, amused, as she leaned over the sink and shampooed her own head. Even wet, the purple streak looked great. Then, a turban towel wrapped around her damp curls, she tugged me into the back room. “This whole rack is hers. Crowns are in boxes up top, and these”—she gestured to the garment bags hanging below the boxes—“are the gowns! You won’t believe all the crystals on them. Tambra said that one dress was easily a couple grand when she bought them. Look!” She unzipped a bag to show me one-shoulder red dress covered
in Swarovski crystals that looked like a giant glittery lipstick.

  “Wow. That’s quite a look.” I was suddenly glad I was several sizes too wide to squeeze into that sparkly tube, because judging from the look on Ruth’s face, she would have tried otherwise.

  “I know, it’s not my style, either—I’m more of a leather-and-feathers gal—but you have to admit, that’s a gorgeous piece of fashion.” She zipped it back up and reached for another one. “Look at this one! It’s my favorite. If I were a goddess, this is what I’d wear.”

  I leaned around her to look at the next dress. A strapless number, it started out purple on the top and gradually transitioned to pale aqua at the hem. Lavender and turquoise chiffon butterflies fluttered all over the huge, tulle skirt. “Try it on!”

  Ruth threw her head back and laughed. “Let’s just say me and strapless don’t get along!”

  “Come on! You owe me one, right? I’m calling in my favor! You have to try it!” I pulled the garment bag’s hanger off the rack and something clunked inside the voluminous dress.

  Ruth winced. “I hope we didn’t break anything.” She stooped to feel around under the skirt and pulled out an acoustic guitar. As she turned it in her hands, I could see it was decorated within an inch of its life. The back of the guitar was covered with colorful stickers, and the front was hand painted with a colorful, swirling nighttime sky and the silhouette of fir trees.

  “I didn’t know Tambra was a musician,” I said, relieved to see that the instrument didn’t seem to be damaged by my careless handling. “Was that her pageant talent?”

  “She’s not,” Ruth said, suddenly subdued. She flipped the guitar so I could see the name carved on the back of the its neck: Joe.

  Adrenaline jolted through me. This had to be Hobo Joe’s guitar...but why did Tambra have it? Ruth and I shared a panicked look.

  “What should we do?” I whispered.

  “We should put it back!” Ruth straightened and grabbed the hanger from me, placing it back on the rack. She tucked the guitar back under the dress and zipped up the garment bag. “I should have asked before going through her pageant things. I feel bad for invading her privacy.”