“Yay!” Kev pumped a fist in the air.
Graham had made a point of telling me that his older sister, Nancy, was in need of money. But I never would have guessed that by looking at where she lived. On approach, I could see the farm was lovely.
I made another turn—this time between two stone gateposts—and followed the driveway down a gentle incline that led to a wide green valley. Spacious, white fenced, pastures spread out on either side of a trim, two-story farmhouse. A big, red, center-aisle barn, whose doors were standing open in the summer heat, was visible behind the house.
Several elderly-looking ponies were grazing in one of the fields. The other contained a flock of sheep. A pair of spotted goats were housed inside a tall wire pen, and half a dozen chickens were scratching in the dirt in front of the barn.
As I parked beside the house, my gaze was still swiveling from side to side. Bemused, slightly astonished, I took it all in. I’d known that Nancy lived on a farm, but somehow I’d envisioned a residence that was more Town and Country and less Old MacDonald.
“Look Mommy, chickens!” Kev said with delight.
“I know.” I hurried around to free him from his car seat. “This place is great, isn’t it?”
As soon as Kevin’s feet touched the ground, he took off at a run. Damn. I should have seen that coming.
That child moved with surprising speed for someone with such short legs. He was already halfway to the barn before I’d closed the car door and caught up. The chickens lifted their heads. They watched our precipitous approach with beady-eyed curiosity. Just in the nick of time, I grabbed Kevin and swung him up into my arms.
Arms outstretched, hands flailing in the direction of the flock, Kev let out a yelp. “Put me down! Want to play!”
“I’m sure you do. But the chickens probably don’t feel the same way about you,” I said.
“Actually they’re very friendly.”
I’d been so focused on nabbing Kev before he did something we’d both regret that I hadn’t even noticed the girl who was standing in the doorway to the barn. She had fair, freckled skin and was dressed in a grubby T-shirt and cargo shorts. Her wheat-colored hair was gathered into a ponytail that reached to the middle of her back. The Brody family’s pale blue eyes were visible above a friendly smile. The girl looked to be a couple of years older than Davey.
“I’m Miranda.” She extended her hand. “Can I help you?”
I juggled Kevin into my other arm, then grasped her hand with my own. “I’m Melanie Travis. And this is Kevin. We’re here to see your mother.”
“Oh, sure.” She waved back toward the barn’s shaded interior. “Mom will be with you in a minute. She’s just milking the cow.”
Milking the cow? My startled thoughts must have shown on my face because Miranda began to laugh.
“That was a joke,” she said between giggles. “It’s just that you were standing there looking around like you thought you’d landed on Green Acres. And then for some reason . . .” She paused for another fit of giggles. “. . . you seemed to think that you had to rescue your son from chickens.”
Miranda reached down and scooped up a bird. I was surprised to see her scratch beneath the hen’s chin, much as I might have done with one of my dogs. “Like I said, they’re very sociable. Although for best results, you probably don’t want to approach them at a dead run.”
“Yes, sorry about that. Kevin loves animals. And he’s sure they all want to be his best friend.”
Miranda leaned in close. She gently picked up my son’s hand and placed it on the chicken’s back. “Hey Kevin, I agree with you. I’ve never met an animal I didn’t like. How about you?”
Kev shook his head. Eyes wide, he ran his hand slowly down the feathered back. For once my son was speechless. This would make his day. Actually, it would probably make his month.
“Mom’s inside,” Miranda said after a minute. Reluctantly, she returned the chicken to the ground. The bird flapped its wings and trotted away. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
“This is a beautiful place,” I said as we walked back toward the house.
Miranda nodded. “I love living on a farm. But it’s a lot of work too. When you arrived, I was mucking stalls.” She reached up and brushed sweaty bangs up off her forehead. “It’s not my favorite way to spend the morning.”
I seemed to recall that Nancy had two children. “Don’t you have a brother to help out with that?”
“Bates is away at sailing camp on Nantucket. He’s gone for the whole month. My brother thinks he’s going to win the America’s Cup someday.” Miranda considered for a moment. “Who knows? He’s pretty good. Maybe he will.”
“I’ve met your other cousins,” I told her. “You guys are all around the same age. I guess you must be pretty close?”
“No, not really,” she said with a shrug. “Mostly I only see them at family functions and stuff like that. Mom doesn’t like us hanging out with them.”
I kept a firm hold of Kevin’s hand and set him down so he could walk beside us. “How come?”
“Trace and Nelson, they’re kind of wild. And Ashley and Megan are pretty spoiled. They get everything they want just handed to them. My mom hates that. She wants us to live a simpler kind of life. More real, you know?”
“I do,” I agreed. I wondered whether Trace’s wildness referred to his driving or whether there was something more. “It sounds like you’re the responsible one. What do your cousins get up to when they’re misbehaving?”
“I’m not really supposed to talk about that.”
“Okay, sure.” My tone was deliberately casual. “I guess it’s just typical teenage high jinks. I’m a teacher. I see all sorts of stuff.”
“Not like what they do.” Miranda slid a look my way. As I’d hoped, my indifference stung just enough to goad her into replying. “Ashley? She once started a fire in a school Dumpster to get out of taking a test she hadn’t studied for.”
Okay, Miranda was right. That kind of behavior went way beyond typical teenage high jinks.
“For real?” I asked.
“I’m telling the truth.” Her shoulders stiffened. “Those guys act crazy sometimes. That’s why Bates and I don’t hang out with them. Besides, it’s not like we have anything in common. Trace and Nelson don’t even like animals. Who would want to spend time with people like that?”
Not me, I thought.
“Trace must like dogs a little because he volunteered to help Jane at Puppy Fest,” I pointed out.
Miranda shaded her eyes from the sun and looked up at me. “Did he show up?”
“No.”
“See? That’s what I mean. The only way Trace would agree to work with puppies was if he was planning to pull their tails and pinch their ears when no one was looking.”
“That’s a pretty harsh assessment.”
Miranda shrugged again. “That’s not my fault. Mom says we always have to tell the truth, even if a lie would make people feel better.”
“It’s obvious that you love animals,” I said. “How come I didn’t see you at Puppy Fest?”
“Mom didn’t want us to go this year. I have no idea why. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask her yourself.”
“Ask her what?”
Miranda had steered us toward the rear of the house. As we’d approached, the back door had opened and a woman had come out. Waiting for us on the stoop, she’d caught the tail end of our conversation.
“This is Melanie Travis,” Miranda announced. “She said she came to see you. Her son, Kevin, likes chickens.”
Nancy smiled down at her daughter. “Of course he likes chickens. Who doesn’t?”
Knowing that Nancy was Leo Brody’s eldest child and that she lived on a farm, I had pictured a woman who was matronly and makeup free. And maybe wearing her hair in a bun. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Nancy was tall and willowy. Her jeans, worn with wedge-heeled espadrilles, were tighter than mine. Blond frosted hair was c
ut to just above her jawline and the summer heat had turned the hairstyle into a becoming mop of curls. She had a chunky gold necklace around her neck and a tennis bracelet around one wrist.
But that was only the first surprise. The second was that I recognized Nancy. She was the woman whom I’d seen arguing with Libby at the dog show. The one who—according to Terry—had been threatening her sister with dire consequences if Libby didn’t pay up.
Well, then. I supposed I knew what my first question was going to be.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nancy said graciously. Her manners appeared to be a cut above the rest of the family’s. “Let’s go inside.”
“I have an idea,” said Miranda.
We all turned to look at her.
“While you guys are talking, why don’t I take Kevin with me? He and I can go pet the ponies.”
I heard a squeal. I was pretty sure it came from Kev. He tipped his head back and looked up at me pleadingly.
“Are you finished with those stalls yet?” Nancy asked.
“Umm . . . not exactly,” Miranda admitted. “But I could use a break. I can finish up after they leave.”
“Then I guess it’s all right with me.” Nancy glanced my way, seeking my permission.
“Kevin’s only three,” I told Miranda. “If you don’t pay attention to him, he’ll find a way to get into trouble.”
“I’m good at keeping an eye on things,” the teen replied seriously. “He and I’ll have fun together.”
“Mommy, pleeease!”
It would take a mother made of sterner stuff than I to resist a plea like that. Besides, who wouldn’t want to pet a pony?
Nancy and I watched the two kids head back to the barn. Then I followed her inside the house.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” she said. “Miranda’s great with kids. She always wanted a little brother or sister.” Nancy glanced back at me over her shoulder. “We’ll sit in the kitchen, if you don’t mind. Are you okay with cats?”
“Sort of.” With a houseful of dogs, I hadn’t been near a cat in a long time. Maybe I’ve outgrown my allergy, I thought hopefully.
“No problem. If they bother you, I’ll just shoo them out of the room. These three think they own the place. It will do them good to have to listen to me for a change.”
The kitchen was small and sunny. The focal point of the room was a round wooden table in the middle of the floor whose surface was scarred by years of use. A ceiling fan rotated lazily overhead. The countertops were cluttered with an eclectic selection of junk. I saw everything from empty flowerpots to dog-eared books, to a pair of sneakers that were missing their laces.
Across the room, an orange tabby cat was stretched out on a windowsill. It opened one eye and looked at us as we entered, then lowered its head and went back to sleep. A second cat, black with a white patch on its chest, was on the floor batting a small ball between its front paws. I wondered where number three was hiding.
“Have a seat.” Nancy waved me to a chair at the table. “I’m on my third cup of coffee and I just brewed a fresh pot. Can I pour you a cup?”
“Absolutely.” As I sat down, I felt my eyes slit to a half-squint. My nose began to twitch. Deliberately I chose a chair as far from the felines as possible. Maybe that would help.
Nancy delivered two steaming mugs to the table. Milk and sugar followed. Then Nancy sat down opposite me.
“Let’s get straight to business,” she said. “Libby told me to talk to you so here you are. I get that she’s pissed. But here’s something you can tell that sister of mine—I’m pissed too. And let me say up front that I have every right to be. By the way, you didn’t introduce yourself as such but I assume you’re Libby’s attorney?”
I’d just finished adding milk to my mug and was taking a first cautious sip. When my head shot up in surprise, scalding liquid burned my throat.
“What? No . . .” I sputtered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not Libby’s attorney. I’m not anybody’s attorney.”
We were off to a good start, weren’t we?
“All right.” Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “Then what’s your stake in all this?”
I put my mug down on the table. It seemed safer that way. “All what?” I asked slowly.
“This stupid business with Cavalier. Which, by the way, I am totally ready to be done with.”
I was feeling dumber by the minute. I hate when that happens.
“Who’s Cavalier?” I asked.
“Libby’s Dalmatian. Her stud dog.”
My face must have looked every bit as blank as my brain felt because Nancy’s frown was growing even more ferocious.
“The one that I supposedly own half of?” she snapped.
“Oh.” Oh. I finally got a clue. It was about time.
“That’s what you and Libby were arguing about at the dog show,” I said. “Cavalier.”
Nancy gave a clipped nod. “Libby owes me money, and I’m tired of waiting for it. She’s been putting me off for two years. As long as I was out of sight, she could pretend there wasn’t a problem. That’s why I went to the dog show. My sweet, conniving sister couldn’t ignore me there, could she?”
Chapter 21
“Apparently not.” Suddenly things were making more sense. “I guess the plan was to embarrass Libby in front of her friends so that she would pay you to go away?”
“Something like that,” Nancy admitted. “I figured it must have worked, too, since you were here. Libby never does her own dirty work. I thought she was sending an attorney to negotiate a settlement.”
“That seems a little extreme for a disagreement between sisters.”
Nancy lifted her mug and took a healthy swallow. “Not in my family.”
Wow, this was one tough crowd.
“Tell me about Cavalier,” I said. “How did he become a source of contention between you?”
“How much do you know about show dogs?”
“More than most people. I breed and show Standard Poodles, and my aunt is a dog show judge.”
“Of course you do.” A small laugh escaped her. “Considering that you’re friends with Libby, I guess I should have seen that coming. Poodles . . . really?”
“Yes, really,” I confirmed. There was no point in taking offense. “Now talk to me about Cavalier.”
“He’s the best Dalmatian Libby has ever owned. Or so she says. It’s not like I would know the difference. Four years ago, she could hardly talk about anything else. He’d won some important title that dog show people care about, and she wanted him to be a special dog.”
“You mean she wanted to special him,” I corrected automatically.
“Sure. Whatever. Apparently that’s an expensive undertaking. Libby needed money to make it happen. She came to me and convinced me to invest in him.”
People show dogs for all kinds of reasons. Some enjoy the competition, or the camaraderie between exhibitors. Others want to prove the merits of their line. Some just like to win. Investment potential is definitely not one of those reasons.
“That’s an unusual request,” I said mildly.
“Not according to what Libby told me at the time. I was supposed to put up the money to give Cavalier a career. Then after he’d done a lot of winning at big dog shows, she would retire him to stud. Libby said his stud fees would generate a lot of income. She and I would be partners, and I was supposed to earn my money back in no time.”
Good luck with that, I thought.
“I’m assuming that’s not how things worked out?”
“Oh, the first part of Libby’s plan came off brilliantly,” Nancy said with a grimace. “Cavalier won all sorts of awards. I even got to watch him run around a dog show ring on television. Originally Libby had said she would show him for one year. Instead they kept going for two. Libby told me Cavalier was doing so well that she couldn’t stop.”
“And you kept footing the bill?” I asked.
“I’d already made
the commitment. It wasn’t like I could back out after the fact.”
“Plenty of people would have done just that,” I pointed out. “Especially since the arrangement ended up costing you a lot more money than you’d bargained for.”
“Libby is my sister,” Nancy said coolly. “I thought I could trust her. I thought that she was looking out for both our interests.”
“Then what happened?”
“I imagine you can guess the rest. Cavalier retired from the show ring two years ago. I’m sure Libby’s making money off of him now. Probably a lot of money. But I haven’t seen a single cent.”
“That hardly sounds fair,” I said over the rim of my mug.
“Tell me about it.”
“Did you talk to Libby about paying you back?”
Nancy looked at me as though I was daft. “Of course I talked to her. Probably a dozen times. She admitted that Cavalier was doing well at stud, but she always had some excuse to explain why she didn’t owe me any money yet.”
“Yet?” I said curiously. “What does that mean?”
“According to Libby, she’d invested in Cavalier’s show career too. She said her time and expertise were worth every bit as much as the money I’d provided. Libby intends to pay herself back first. After that, she told me I’d be next in line.”
With family like that, I thought, who needs enemies?
“That’s really low,” I said out loud. “I don’t suppose the two of you put anything in writing about your arrangement?”
“She’s my sister—”
“I know. And you trusted her. Which was apparently a mistake.”
“You don’t have to tell me that now,” Nancy grumbled. “If I had it to do over, I’d change all sorts of things. Starting with showing Libby the door when she first came up with this crazy scheme.”
She took another long drink of coffee and settled back in her chair. The gaze she trained in my direction was edged with hostility. “So in case you’re wondering, I’m not likely to be enthused about whatever new bright idea my sister has that’s brought you to my doorstep.”
“I don’t blame you one bit,” I said. Under the circumstances, I figured I might as well lead with the headline. “Libby doesn’t think your father’s death was an accident.”
Murder at the Puppy Fest Page 20