Laura arched her manicured brow. “If this is Eddie’s idea—which I doubt.”
“Laura,” I said. “What do you mean?”
“Mark my words. Krissie is the one behind all of this, not Eddie. She’s putting these ideas into his head. Did he ever want to adjust visitation before their engagement?”
“No, but I can’t believe that. Krissie is sweet,” I said. “And Hayden likes her.”
“Hayden likes everyone.” Laura ground her boot deeper into the mud. “I don’t trust her. There’s something calculating about her sweetness. I hope you watch your back where she’s concerned.”
I sighed. “Laura, I think I’d rather talk about Chase than this.” I held up my hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “Please, Laura.”
Her shoulders drooped. “Okay. I’ll drop it for now. It’s Friday night—let’s hit the town.”
I barked a laugh. New Hartford was tiny. There wasn’t much town to hit. “I do have an outing that I’d like you to come with me on.”
“What is it?” Her tone was immediately suspicious.
“I need to drop in on Pansy Hooper.”
“Are you crazy? Pansy Hooper hates the Farm, and hates you by extension. Why on earth would you want to talk to her?”
“She or one of her sons might have seen something around the time Beeson was attacked.”
“Then shouldn’t Detective Brandon be the one to drop in on her?” Laura studied me.
“I’ll tell the detective, just as soon as I talk to Pansy myself.”
“This is a really bad idea,” Laura said. “How much do you want to bet Pansy Hooper meets us at the front door with a shotgun?”
I raised my brow. “Are you saying you won’t go with me?”
“No, of course I’ll go. I can’t let you meet the business end of a shotgun on your own. What kind of best friend would I be if I let that happen?”
I snorted and headed to the gate. “We’ll take my car.”
She blew out a breath. “Good. I was afraid you’d say we were going to trek through the woods there.”
“No, I prefer a car.” I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s better for a fast getaway.”
“That’s so not funny,” she muttered behind me.
The drive to the Hoopers’ home took almost as long as it would have taken to walk there by cutting through the woods. But my statement that I wanted to get away from the Hoopers’ quickly wasn’t said totally in jest. I didn’t know how Pansy Hooper would feel about me dropping in on her unannounced like this, although she dropped in on the Farm at all hours with her numerous complaints.
The Hooper home was set off from the road, behind a row of full pine trees. The way they were planted made me think it had been deliberate, to hide the house from passersby. Milton Hooper had been a reclusive man who’d kept to his house. I hadn’t met any of the Hoopers until he died and Pansy and her two sons moved into the old homestead. Now I saw them way too much.
I parked in front of the house.
Laura unbuckled her seat belt. “I feel like we should have stopped to buy pepper spray or something to defend ourselves.”
I placed my hand on the door handle. “There’s no need for any of that.”
“If you say so.” She got out of the car.
I followed her around the pines trees and up the driveway. The sun was setting, and the tall pines caste an eerie shadow on the two-story house. The house paint was peeling. One of the top shutters hung loosely from the siding, and the front gutter had leaves from last fall spilling over its sides.
Laura inched close to me. “If you’re ever looking for a candidate for a haunted house, I think you just found it. This place would be perfect.”
“Let me do the talking,” I said.
“What?” She gave me a mock-hurt look. “Do you think I’ll offend them?”
“Yes.” I walked up the porch steps. The porch light was off; there wasn’t a light bulb in the fixture. But a light shone through both of the front windows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move around the side of the wraparound porch.
Laura must have seen it too because she jumped. “Someone’s there,” she hissed. “We’re going to die.”
“It was probably a raccoon or squirrel,” I said with a shaky voice.
“Yeah,” she remarked. “If they came in human size.”
I shook my head and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked harder. Still nothing. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Mrs. Hooper? It’s Kelsey Cambridge from Barton Farm. I was told that you wanted to speak to me.”
“I guess she doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” Laura said. “Let’s go.”
I shot her a look and knocked again.
Laura clutched my arm in a vise-like grip.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, after we waited for what seemed like an hour but was more likely two minutes.
Laura yanked on my arm “Great. Let’s roll.”
When we were about to leave, the front door was flung open. “What do you want?” Pansy Hooper bellowed.
Laura yelped and almost fell backward down the porch steps. I grabbed her arm and held her up. I cleared my throat. “Mrs. Hooper, I’m Kelsey Cambridge. We’ve met on several occasions when you visited Barton Farm.”
“I know who you are.” She opened the door wider. She wore a stained sweatshirt and a paisley peasant skirt. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun on the top her head and she glared at me with watery eyes. From her wrinkled skin, I’d guessed she was over sixty, but she might have been younger and the wrinkles were a byproduct of a hard life. I didn’t doubt that Pansy Hooper’s life had been hard. I didn’t know where she’d lived before her father’s passing, but it must have been awful if she chose to leave it for her father’s old dilapidated house.
I gave her my most neighborly smile. “I’m sorry to drop in on you on a Friday evening like this, but a member of my staff told me that you stopped by yesterday to talk to me about the activities on the Farm. I apologize for not calling on you earlier.”
She sniffed. “It’s about time you came over to address the issue. You have no respect for your neighbors. I’ve tried to be a good neighbor to you, but my patience had worn thin.”
Behind me, Laura made an irritated noise.
Pansy’s watery eyes zeroed in on her. “Who are you?”
“Pansy,” I said, still hoping to sound friendly, “this is Laura Fellow. She works at the Farm as well. I asked her to come with me to speak with you.”
“You could have come by yourself.” She held onto the doorframe. “I don’t bite.”
The jury was still out on that one, I thought.
“Do you have a moment to talk now?” I asked. “Maybe we can come to some type of understanding.”
She looked me up and down as if giving my question some serious consideration. “You might as well come in.”
I looked at Laura and she widened her eyes. An invitation into the Hooper house wasn’t what we’d expected.
Pansy glowered at us. “Well, are you coming or not? If you want to talk, I’m not going to stand in the doorway and let in a draft.”
“Yes, we’re coming,” I said quickly and stepped through the doorway.
After a long beat, Laura followed me inside. “Does this feel a little Hansel and Gretel to you? If she eats us, I’ll never forgive you.”
“If you’re eaten, you won’t be able to complain,” I hissed.
“Not funny, Kel.” She held on to my arm as if it were the last lifeboat departing from the Titanic.
Pansy led us into the living room. I tried my best not to stare at the surroundings. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of glass jars all over the room filled with all manners of trinkets, from screws to marbles to buttons.
Apparently I failed in my attempt
not to stare, because Pansy said, “My father liked to collect things. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all this junk. The boys claim they can sell it online, but neither one of them have done that yet.” She sat on the middle of the old sofa, leaving the one stained arm chair for Laura and me.
“I don’t mind standing,” Laura whispered. “It’ll give me a head start when she starts cooking.”
I frowned and sat on the edge of the armchair. “What were your concerns about the Farm?” I directed my question to Pansy.
Pansy picked up a coffee mug and sipped from it. “The noise. The racket coming from the Farm is unbearable. My boys and me moved out to my father’s house to get away from noise.”
“The Farm has had several new events this winter, but winter is generally our off-season. I’m afraid the noise will only become worse in the summer when we’re fully operational.”
“You need to do something about it, then.” She held her mug in her hands. “You need to have better control over the noise.”
“That’s near to impossible,” I said.
“I can’t accept that.”
I suppressed a sigh. “I understand your concern, but the events on the Farm will continue whether you like them or not. The Farm has all the necessary permits for the programs that we hold on the grounds. I imagine that it isn’t that different from living near a school or somewhere else where events are held.”
She pointed at me with her coffee mug. “We live here to get away from all of that.”
“There’s nothing I can do about the noise. Your father was a neighbor to Barton Farm for nearly fifty years, and he never complained about the noise,” I said.
“My father was half deaf. He wouldn’t have heard cannon fire if you’d shot it into his ear.”
I decided it was best not to warn Pansy that there would be cannon fire on the grounds that summer. I would deal with that when the time came. “I see,” I said. “I guess we’re at an impasse, then.”
She curled her mug into her chest. “Don’t think I won’t complain to the town.”
“I wasn’t thinking that,” I said mildly.
“Though I may not have to be the one to shut you down, if people keep dying on Farm land.” She paused to sip from her mug. “I saw police over there yesterday. I heard the sirens and the shouts. It wasn’t until later that I found out that a man had died.” She clicked her tongue.
“The incident on the Farm yesterday was unfortunate, but I can assure you no one who works for Barton Farm was involved.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Pansy smiled. “I heard one of the people working at your farm was the one to do him in. It’s that young teacher you got. The boy that’s always leading the children around.”
I stiffened. Pansy was surprisingly well informed about all the events on the Farm grounds. I swallowed. “Who told you that?”
“My boys,” she said with a satisfied smile. “They tell me about the news in town. I can’t get out much myself. Don’t like to. I got everything I need right here. I don’t have much use for most people.” She gave me a pointed look.
“I was wondering if I could talk to your boys while I was here, actually,” I said. “Are they home?”
“Why?” she snapped.
“Well,” I began, “they might have seen something yesterday that will help the police find out what happened to Dr. Beeson—that’s the man who was killed.”
“My boys and I didn’t see anything.” She squinted at me as if trying to come to some sort of decision about me.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Have your boys been on the Farm grounds recently?” I shifted on the arm of the chair, wishing I’d opted to stand like Laura. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that she was inching further and further away from Pansy on the couch.
“They’d have no reason to go there.” Pansy set her empty coffee mug on the table between two jars of pennies.
Just because they had no reason to be there doesn’t mean that they weren’t, I thought, but I didn’t come right out and say that. I didn’t want to push her too far, at least not yet. “Can I talk to one or both of them? I know they spend a lot of time in the woods. They might be able to help.”
“I told you, they didn’t see anything. My boys keep to themselves. They have no interest in the history you spout over there at the Farm.”
I didn’t doubt the Hooper boys’ lack of historical interest. “If I—”
“I said no,” she snapped. Spittle flew from her mouth.
“One of my staff members,” I said, not giving up, “saw them on the grounds, and we had an incident of vandalism in the garden.”
“Don’t you be accusing my boys of vandalism.” She jumped out of her seat.
“I’m not,” I said. “But they might have seen something, either at the spot where Dr. Beeson fell or in the garden.”
She shook her empty coffee mug at me. “I won’t have you coming here accusing my sons of trespassing on the Farm. You have no right. It’s time for you to leave.”
I stood and followed her to the door. Laura was already outside. So much for backup.
I stepped over the threshold and turned to face Pansy. “Why don’t you come to the Maple Sugar Festival tomorrow to see what it’s like? No charge. You’re welcome to attend free as our neighbor. I think once you see all the good the Farm does and all we have to offer the community, you’ll feel differently about it.”
“You think wrong,” she said and slammed the door in my face.
Laura was halfway to the car by the time I reached the porch steps. I jogged to catch up with her. “I thought you were supposed to be my backup.”
“Sure. I have your back, but I prefer to do it ten yards away from that nutcase. The woman is deranged. Did you see all those jars? I bet they weren’t her father’s at all. My money is on them being hers.”
My shoulders drooped. “It doesn’t matter. This whole trip was a waste of time. Pansy is madder at the Farm than ever, and I didn’t learn anything new.”
Laura patted me on the arm. “Cheer up. At least you can prove with all those jars that she’s crazy in case she ever takes you to court.”
“How can that possibly make me feel better?”
When we were back in the car, Laura buckled her seat belt. “What are you going to do about the Hoopers now?”
“Sic Detective Brandon on them. If Pansy Hooper doesn’t like me coming around, she’s going to hate Candy Brandon.”
Laura grinned. “I’d love to see that match-up.”
“Me too.” I started the car, and my headlights caught a form standing in the woods.
Laura screamed. “It’s a ghost.”
The figure dissolved into the trees.
I placed a hand on my heart and willed it back behind my sternum. “That wasn’t a ghost. It was one of Pansy’s sons.”
Laura shivered. “My mind it made up. The Hoopers are behind the murder.”
“But why? What would be the motive? They don’t even know Dr. Beeson.”
“I don’t have all the answers, but the fact they give me the creeps is reason enough.” Laura leaned back in her seat as if the case were closed.
I sighed and turned the car onto the road.
twenty-seven
That night, I walked around my little cottage, picking up the toys and books Hayden had left scattered around the house and missing him desperately. The truth was, eighty percent of the time I got him to myself. As the custody arrangement stood now, Eddie got Hayden two weekends a month and two full weeks during the summer, plus alternating major holidays. Since our divorce, the arrangement had always worked for us. Now that he was getting married, Eddie wanted to change that. I still blamed Eddie for the sudden shift. No matter what Laura said, I didn’t think Krissie was the villain in this situation. A little voice in the back of my h
ead told me that I shouldn’t blame anyone. As long as Hayden was happy and felt settled, that’s all that mattered.
Frankie hissed at me from his perch on the arm of the couch. Then he jumped down, picked up one of Hayden’s Matchbox cars in his mouth, and sauntered in the direction of the utility room where his cat box was.
“Frankie!” I warned. “Don’t you dare put that in your litter box.”
He swished his tail and kept going. That wouldn’t be fun to fish out later, but I wasn’t going to wrestle him for it. I wasn’t in the mood for to go four rounds with Frankie tonight. The trip to the Hooper place to reason with Pansy Hooper had been a mistake. All that I’d accomplished was making her more suspicious of the Farm, and I’d practically accused her sons of being the culprits for the vandalism in the garden. Even though I was certain the boys were behind it, my accusations had only deepened the rift between us. I didn’t believe Pansy would really take the Farm to court over the noise issues; she didn’t have the means. However, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to make things difficult for me and all the Farm employees.
Tiffin jumped up from his dog bed and growled at the front door.
I stared at him. Tiff was usually a mellow corgi. I’d never seen him behave this way. One of the reasons why he was such a good dog to have on the Farm was that he never met a person he didn’t like. I couldn’t have a dog running loose that would growl and bark every time someone new visited.
Tiffin growled again. This time, the noise came from deep in this throat as if he was pulling it from his very core.
“Tiff, is there someone outside?”
Bang! Something from outside hit the side of the cottage. I jumped.
Tiffin ran to the front door, barking his head off. I threw the door open. “Who’s out there?”
Tiffin stood right in front of me.
I blinked under the porch light, wishing that I had something else to see by. “Who’s out there?”
There was laughter.
I clenched my teeth. “Scott and Shaun Hooper? I know it’s you!”
The Hooper boys materialized out of the trees and moved toward the cottage with a slouching gait. Even though I knew that Scott, at seventeen, was the older of the two by at least a year, the boys could have been twins. They were both over six feet and walked with a slight slump, as if they even found walking to be a chore. I remained on the porch and glared at them. I’d never been so grateful in my life that Hayden was with his father.
The Final Tap Page 17