Bought the Farm

by Peg Cochran

  Her first thought was that it was Matt—a thought that brought a smile to her face. She was mentally calculating how many more eggs to make as she pulled open the back door.

  She was surprised, and—she had to admit it—disappointed, when she found Brian Ross standing on her back step.

  He ducked his head apologetically. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so early.”

  “Don’t worry,” Shelby said. “I’ve already been up for quite a while.” She heard a sizzling noise coming from the kitchen. “Please come in. I have something on the stove.”

  “Now I really am sorry for disturbing you,” Brian said.

  Shelby saw the way his eyes lit up when he spotted the eggs in the bowl.

  “Are you hungry? I have plenty of eggs.”

  “I couldn’t have you go to so much trouble. You’ve done so much for us already.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m making another batch for myself anyway.”

  Billy walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his Cub Scout uniform and had even slicked down his hair with water. Shelby couldn’t help but smile. Billy had an all-day Cub Scout jamboree being held at the school that day, and that had obviously motivated him to look his best. He stared at Brian for a moment, but his interest faded when Shelby slid his plate of eggs in front of him. He put his head down and began to shovel them in as efficiently as a machine.

  Amelia walked into the kitchen with her phone in hand, pulling out her kitchen chair without looking up from the text message she was sending. When she finally did surface, she was so startled to see Brian sitting at the table that she jumped.

  Shelby and Brian couldn’t help laughing, although Amelia got that stormy look on her face that meant she was about to either slam out of the room or burst into tears.

  Shelby grabbed three plates from the cupboard and portioned out eggs for Amelia, Brian, and herself.

  Amelia picked up her fork but didn’t make a move to eat her eggs and instead sat staring at Brian in a way that would have made most people nervous, but he seemed to take it in stride.

  “Amelia and her friends are planning an antibullying campaign at her school,” Shelby said, reaching for the butter. “Isn’t that right, Amelia?”

  A strange look passed between Amelia and Brian, but it was so fleeting that Shelby couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it.

  Brian tilted his chair back on two legs. “I remember being bullied myself. He was a big kid—a lot bigger than me. He used to intimidate me into handing over the chocolate chip cookie my mother always put in my lunch.”

  “What did you do?” Shelby reached for the saltshaker.

  Brian shrugged. “Nothing. Before I could decide what to do, he moved away.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  “No kidding.”

  Amelia jumped up from her seat. “I’m going to Kaylee’s house, Mom. Is that okay? Her mother is picking me up.”

  “That’s fine. Have a good time.”

  If Shelby thought Amelia was going to kiss her good-bye, she was disappointed.

  “Can I be excused?” Billy said, pushing back his chair.

  Shelby smiled. “Sure.”

  Moments later they heard Billy’s footsteps on the stairs leading to the second floor.

  Finally Brian pushed his plate away and patted his stomach. “I haven’t had that good a meal since we got here. Thanks.” He smiled at Shelby.

  Brian shifted in his seat. “I’m afraid I came to ask you another favor.”

  “Oh?”

  He cleared his throat. “I wondered if I could use your garden hose and some of your water. I really need to give my car a wash. It’s so dirty that I had to scrape the mud off the license plate before coming here for fear one of the cops patrolling the main road would pull me over.”

  “Of course. That’s no problem at all.”

  Brian grinned. “Thanks. I know she’s an old heap and not worth very much, but I hate seeing her so dirty. I don’t know where Jax went out riding last night, but he sure got her muddy.”

  Shelby was about to get up but instead froze in her seat. Jax had been out last night?

  Shelby laughed, trying to keep it light. “There aren’t too many places to go in Lovett at night. Was it very late?”

  “Must have been. I woke up when he came into my room to get the keys. I rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock and it was already after three in the morning. I would have asked him where he was going, but frankly, I fell back to sleep before he’d even fished the keys out of my pants pocket.”

  Where had Jax been going at that time of night? Shelby wondered. There was nothing open in Lovett and even the diner was closed. Had he been heading to Love Blossom Farm? And had he been the one standing on Shelby’s porch in the middle of the night?

  She shuddered to think what might have happened if the dogs hadn’t woken up and scared him off. Who knew what he’d been planning to do?

  * * *

  • • •

  Bert was still in the hospital. They hadn’t been able to remove her gallbladder laparoscopically but had had to operate the old-fashioned way. Given her age, it would be another day or two before she would be released back home.

  Shelby planned to take her some food. The stuff they served in the hospital would definitely not be to Bert’s liking. She filled a container with some of her homemade yogurt and got out her large soup pot. She’d make some chicken soup to take to Bert and they could have it for their dinner. Although it was warm—and sometimes even steamy—during the day, at night it was still cool enough for a hot meal.

  She retrieved the last of the parsnips, turnips, and carrots she’d been storing in the root cellar. They needed to be used up right away and chicken soup was the perfect way to do it.

  And of course she needed a chicken. And while she had a yard full of them back by the barn, she could never bring herself to kill any of them and eat them for dinner. She’d go to the Comstocks’ chicken farm and pick one out. The birds were antibiotic and hormone free and a far cry from the meat found in chain supermarkets.

  Shelby took off her apron, tossed it over one of the kitchen chairs, and grabbed her purse. The Comstocks’ farm was only about five miles away.

  Shelby heard the band’s van coming down the drive. She peeked out the kitchen window. Brian’s Taurus was no longer in the driveway, and the hose was neatly coiled back on its stand.

  Shelby hesitated. Brian had told her he’d have some cash for her today. She put her purse on the table, retrieved her wallet, and poked around inside. She had a few limp dollar bills and not much else. If Brian did have the money for her, that would save a trip to the bank.

  Shelby dashed out the mudroom door. Bitsy and Jenkins scampered out in back of her, quickly overtook her, and bounded toward the barn. The field was muddy and Shelby had to pick her way around the puddles that dotted the path.

  Brian’s car was parked in front of the barn. A few drops of water were sprinkled across the hood, and the dust and the dirt were gone except for a few new splotches of mud on the tires. The barn doors were open, and as Shelby approached, she heard voices. The female one had to be Paislee and the male one sounded like Jax. Someone was tinkering with a guitar in the background—Peter most likely—and Shelby thought it sounded like some of the chords from that haunting song she’d heard Jax and Paislee sing when they were practicing a couple of days ago.

  Paislee and Jax were still conversing in urgent-sounding undertones, and Shelby was loath to interrupt them. She hovered a short distance from the open barn door, curious to know what they were talking about.

  Paislee’s voice surged louder and Shelby could easily hear what she was saying.

  “That was my song, and Travis knew it,” Paislee said.

  “But it’s all over now,” he said. “We’re going to sing it together.”
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  “It still makes me mad.” Paislee sounded petulant, and Shelby could imagine her sticking her lower lip out like a child. “He said he wrote that song for me.”

  Jax’s sigh was audible. “By now you should know that Travis said whatever was necessary to get him what he wanted.”

  “That’s not true.” Shelby could hear the tears in Paislee’s voice. “He wrote that song for me and the two of us were going to record it together. I know it would have been a hit. But instead he said he was going to record it with her.”

  Dear Reader, I don’t know who her is, but judging by Paislee’s tone of voice, it’s obvious she’s not a fan.

  “Like I said, Paislee.” Jax was beginning to sound frustrated. “It’s over. You and I will record it together.” His voice turned soothing. “And it will be even better than if you’d sung it with Travis. I promise.”

  There was a rustling sound, and Shelby moved away from the door. She made a point of clearing her throat loudly and shuffling her feet through the handful of dried leaves that had collected outside the barn door before she walked in.

  Paislee and Jax were now standing with the others—gathered together in a knot by the equipment. Brian seemed to be holding some sort of meeting. Shelby hated to interrupt them and was about to turn and leave when Brian caught sight of her.

  He walked over to where Shelby was standing.

  “It’s great to be back here again,” he said, clapping Shelby on the shoulder. “We appreciate you continuing to let us use your barn.” He chuckled. “I hope we haven’t put your chickens off laying eggs.”

  “Not at all. I harvested a couple dozen just this morning.”

  “Good.” Brian scratched at the stubble on his chin, making a raspy sound. “I hope we’ll be out of your hair soon.” He sighed. “As soon as the police let us go. It’s been a week since Travis was killed—you’d think they’d be further along by now.”

  “But then there’s Cody—”

  “You’re right. That’s certainly put a wrinkle in things.” Brian frowned and leaned closer to Shelby. “Between you and me, I wondered if it wasn’t Cody who had done it. Murdered Travis, I mean.”

  Shelby didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to admit that she’d suspected Cody herself. It occurred to her again that one of the killers could be here in the barn right now. She thought about the threatening comment on her blog and the person who had been standing on her porch and had to suppress a shiver.

  She wished she could send the children somewhere—somewhere safe. But where could they go? Bert was in the hospital and her parents were somewhere on the West Coast touring in their RV. Kelly had to work, and Shelby couldn’t imagine Mrs. Willoughby or Coralynne dealing with Billy and Amelia.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” Brian said, interrupting Shelby’s thoughts. He smiled. “Or did you just want to hear us play?”

  “I’d love to hear you play, but you’re right. You said you would be able to pay me today and that would save me a trip to the bank.”

  Brian slapped himself on the forehead. “Of course I did. I thought of it while we were having breakfast, but then it flew right out of my mind again.” He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Good thing I came prepared.” He peeled off a number of bills and handed them to Shelby.

  Shelby hated taking the money from them—it didn’t cost her anything to let them use her barn—but she knew she was taking a risk allowing them to be on the farm in the first place. If it weren’t for the money, she wouldn’t be doing it.

  “Say, you still writing that blog?” Brian said as Shelby turned to go. “What’s it called? ‘The Farmer’s Daughter’?”

  “Yes.”

  “My wife—she’s back home in Iowa—reads it all the time. She loves it. She couldn’t believe we were actually going to be playing here and that I’d get to meet you.”

  “Tell her I’m glad she enjoys it.”

  Brian looked down at his feet momentarily. “This is embarrassing, but would you mind if we took a selfie? I promised the wife I’d try.”

  Shelby laughed as Brian pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “I probably look a mess.”

  “Not at all.” Brian held the phone in front of them and clicked the shutter.

  “Thanks.”

  That was a first, Shelby thought as she walked toward the house. Wait till she told Bert about it. No doubt Bert would quickly bring Shelby back down to earth again.

  Billy was ready to go when Shelby got back to the house. She would drop him off at school on her way to the Comstocks’ farm.

  They went out to the car, which Shelby had finally gotten started, and Shelby buzzed down the windows. Billy fidgeted all the way to school and bolted from the car the moment they pulled into the driveway, throwing a Bye, Mom over his shoulder without looking back.

  Shelby watched him as he went through the front door. He was growing up—there was no denying it. She felt tears pressing against her eyelids and dashed them away quickly.

  Fresh air poured into the car as Shelby drove along. As soon as she neared the Comstocks’ farm, however, the faint odor of chickens, their feed, and their waste drifted through the open windows.

  Shelby pulled into a gravel drive that ran alongside a shallow culvert, which Arlene Comstock said was a menace in the winter when the ground was covered in snow and you couldn’t see where the driveway ended and it began.

  Shelby pulled into the small parking lot in front of the farm store. It wasn’t a big building and it had rough metal siding and a corrugated roof.

  Shelby walked inside, pausing for a moment by the door as her eyes adjusted to the change from broad sunlight to the dimmer interior of the shop.

  A long piece of particleboard suspended between two sawhorses served as a counter. Behind it was a refrigerated space lined with shelves for the chickens that were processed and packaged daily.

  Arlene’s daughter, Danielle Comstock, was behind the counter, her blond hair hanging in long braids over each shoulder. She was wearing denim overalls that had been cut off at the knees and a T-shirt with writing on it that was obscured by the bib of the overalls.

  Shelby knew Danielle from high school—not well; they’d always seemed to end up in the same gym class together—and Danielle had become a friend of Kelly’s, too. She and her husband, Carter, had been invited to Kelly and Seth’s wedding.

  Danielle smiled and leaned her elbows on the counter as Shelby approached.

  “That was a lovely wedding,” Danielle said. “Except for that singer being killed. What a tragedy. I felt so bad for Kelly and Seth.” Danielle tossed one of her braids over her shoulder. “I imagine they’ll think of it every time they think of their wedding.”

  “I hope not. Hopefully they will have other, better memories of their day.”

  “Have they found who did it yet? I haven’t heard.”

  “Neither have I.” Shelby was beginning to wonder when she’d be able to order her chicken and leave before Danielle asked too many more questions.

  “I wonder if it was that man I saw arguing with the singer. They were going at it something fierce. That singer—Travis, right?”

  Shelby nodded her head.

  “He looked mad and embarrassed at the same time, if that’s possible.”

  “Who was he arguing with?” Shelby tried to put the question as casually as possible, although her heart had begun to hammer hard against her chest.

  Danielle pulled one of her braids over her shoulder again and began to fiddle with the end of it. “I don’t know. I couldn’t see his face on account of his back was turned toward me.”

  “Do you remember anything about him? What he was wearing maybe?”

  Danielle shook her head. “Not really.” She frowned, then suddenly smiled and snapped her fingers. “I know.
Now I remember. He was wearing a hat.” She put a hand on top of her own head. “A floppy sort of thing. Silly looking, if you ask me.”

  Shelby’s mouth had gone so dry she could barely speak. That was Seth’s hat Danielle had described. Had it actually been Seth whom the woman from Grilling Gals had seen arguing with Travis? And not someone who had picked up Seth’s hat and worn it?

  Shelby didn’t believe it. Seth would never murder someone. But if the police heard about this, it would still look bad for him.

  Danielle looked at Shelby, her eyebrows raised.

  “I . . . I need a chicken, please.”

  Danielle laughed and cracked her gum. “I kinda figured that. What size?”

  “Around three pounds. I’m making soup.”

  “You’ll want a fryer, then. It’ll cook up real nice and tender.”

  Danielle disappeared into the refrigerated storage area and came out with a neatly wrapped bundle. She slipped it into a plastic bag, handed it to Shelby, and rang up some numbers on the cash register.

  Shelby dug her wallet out of her purse, put some bills down on the counter, and waited while her receipt spooled out of the cash register.

  “Nice seeing you again,” Danielle said as Shelby turned to go. “Sorry I didn’t get to talk to you at the wedding.”

  Shelby gave a wan smile. “I’m afraid I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off most of the time.”

  Danielle threw back her head and laughed. “That’s a good one.” She waved. “You take care.”

  “Thanks.”

  Shelby walked out to her car and sat there for a moment. She put the key in the ignition but didn’t turn it. Whoever killed Travis was wearing Seth’s hat. When Seth first stormed out of the wedding reception after realizing Travis was going to be playing, he wasn’t wearing his hat.

  If that was the case, then Danielle must have seen them arguing later. Seth must have picked up his hat, put it on, and gone to find Travis to continue their fight.