A Biscuit, a Casket

by Liz Mugavero

  When Eminem and his owner approached the table for their bag of home-baked treats and gift certificate to the local pet supply shop, Stan realized it was Maddy, the McSwigg’s waitress who had seen Emmalee ditch her car the day of Hal’s murder. Stan handed her the goodie bag. Maddy murmured a thank you and turned to leave.

  Stan rose. “Hey, Maddy?”

  Maddy turned around, her gaze neither friendly nor unfriendly. “Yeah?”

  “I’m Stan. A friend of Jake and Brenna’s. Do you have a second?”

  At Maddy’s nod, Stan led her away from the crowd of winning dogs and their owners. Maddy was silent, waiting for Stan to speak.

  “Congrats,” Stan said. “Your dog is adorable.”

  “Thanks.”

  Okay. Not one for small talk. Stan dove right in. “Brenna told me you saw the Hoffmans the day Mr. Hoffman died. I know you saw Emmalee leave her car there. But I know Mr. Hoffman used to go to the bar a lot. Did you by any chance see him lately with an older guy, long hair, lots of earrings? Tall and kind of skinny?” Maybe Maddy would recognize Ted and place him near the scene.

  Maddy shook her head slowly. “Who’s that?”

  “One of the farmers he works with.” Stan didn’t elaborate.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What about a guy with a big beard? Sort of like ZZ Top?”

  “Like what?” Maddy stared blankly at her. Stan felt old.

  “Nothing. He just has a big, long, bushy beard.”

  Maddy shook her head again, picking at her cuticle. “He only came in there with the poker guys. Least that’s all I saw him with.”

  “Poker guys?”

  “Yeah. This group that got together twice a week to play poker. They came to the bar first. Tried to play at the bar a couple times, but Jake broke it up.”

  “Did Hal ever seem to not get along with them? Or was he stressed out about losing money, maybe? Did he look like he had to play? Like it wasn’t fun?” She was grasping, but maybe there was a nugget here somewhere that would save Tyler.

  “Nah. He was always laughing. And drinking.” Maddy thought for a minute, then shrugged. “I never saw him mad in the bar.”

  Another dead end. “Thanks,” Stan said. “I won’t keep you.” As she turned, Maddy spoke again.

  “The only time I saw him mad was once outside the liquor store. He was having a fight with that blond lady with the curly hair. The sappy sweet one who was with that guy you spilled the water on that night. You know her, right?”

  Leigh-Anne Sutton? Couldn’t be. “You’re sure it was the same woman?” Stan asked.

  “Positive. She wears those ridiculous shoes.”

  “When was this?” Stan asked.

  Maddy shrugged. “A few weeks ago. When they saw me coming they shut it down quick.”

  Stan watched her and the dog walk away, a shiver running up her spine. Her mind ricocheted back to Leigh-Anne’s words that night at Jake’s. “Such a delightful little town. I haven’t been back since the co-op’s annual meeting six months ago. I always forget how adorable it is.”

  Why had she lied?

  The night carried the typical New England autumn chill, perfect for a scary movie on the green with plenty of popcorn on hand. Stan slipped on her bright orange Fila jacket, chosen in the spirit of Halloween, and went back to her small bag of popcorn. Next to her in the second row of the “movie seats”—rows of folding chairs volunteers had set up—Jake had his own bag. They weren’t at the sharing popcorn stage yet. Both had acknowledged that silently.

  The movie had drawn a good crowd. She expected it was more about the social aspect than the content, considering the Elm Street movies were pretty old. The Halloween series would’ve been a good choice, too, but the younger crowd seemed to enjoy Freddy. The audience would likely shift during the course of the viewings. It was early still, barely eight. The teenagers would come out later, probably around the third or fourth installment, if they could convince their parents to let them stay out that late. But for now, it was a good mix of Stan’s age group and a little younger.

  Stan couldn’t concentrate on the movie. She’d been antsy since her conversation with Maddy earlier. Leigh-Anne Sutton had been in Frog Ledge, fighting with Hal, a couple of weeks before he died. Leigh-Anne had never given any indication she and Hal didn’t get along. She’d even been the first one to offer to help. And she was also the only co-op farmer who had essentially abandoned her own business to move to Frog Ledge after Hal’s death. Business partner goodwill? Or was there a more sinister reason behind it?

  Stan thought back to the first time she’d met Leigh-Anne, in Em’s kitchen the morning after Hal’s murder. Even then, after offering her condolences, she’d taken right over. Acted like the farm was hers to run. Acted like the funeral was hers to run, for goodness’ sake. All under the guise of being helpful. At the town meeting, it hadn’t been Leigh-Anne who had made the motion to take control away from Em. But the group had voted for Leigh-Anne to have coleadership control. Stan remembered the folder she’d found in Hal’s office, with the co-op agreement. She had to get back there and find it.

  Her next thought stopped her cold. If Leigh-Anne and Em had joint control, what if something happened to Em? Then Leigh-Anne could take over the co-op. Maybe she’d even get her hands on Em’s farm. Leigh-Anne might have seen Hal as her only obstacle to being in charge of the entire business. Now she’d taken care of him, but the path to the Happy Cow co-op still wasn’t clear. Could Em be in danger?

  To add to her jumpiness, Stan hadn’t seen or heard from her mother all day. Patricia was good at holding a grudge, but she wouldn’t vanish into the night without a word. After the fifth time Stan had craned her neck to look into the crowd behind them, Jake leaned over.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Why?” Stan settled back in her seat.

  “You looking for someone?”

  “Just wondering if my mother was still around. I haven’t heard from her since last night.”

  “Why don’t you call her?” Jake suggested.

  Stan smiled sheepishly. “That’s not a bad idea. It’s been such a busy day, I just figured I’d see her at Char’s.” She patted her pockets. “Shoot. I don’t have my phone. I must’ve left it at home when I dropped the dogs off earlier.” Thinking about the dogs triggered her brain back into action and she jumped up. “Oh my goodness! The pets!”

  “What’s wrong with the pets?” Jake asked.

  “Not my pets. Em’s pets. I never went to feed Samson and Petunia tonight.” Stan dropped her voice when the group in the next aisle turned to glare at her. “And Samson wasn’t feeling well. I really need to run over there.”

  “Now? This is where it gets good. Freddy’s on a rampage,” Jake said. Johnny Depp was about to meet his demise in his bedroom.

  “Yeah, before it gets too late. I already feel bad for being so forgetful.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  How sweet. She could tell he had no desire to take his eyes off the movie, yet he offered to be chivalrous. “No, stay and enjoy the movie. I already brought meals and left them in the fridge, so I don’t even have to go home first. I’ll just run across the street and heat them up. Honestly,” she said when he protested. “I’m leaving my popcorn. Keep an eye on it for me.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

  She hoped so. Because while she did need to feed the pets, she also wanted to snoop around in Leigh-Anne’s “office” at Happy Cow. Perhaps she would find something that would solve this mystery, once and for all.

  Stan walked up the Hoffmans’ long driveway and let herself in the front door as silently as possible. Samson lumbered over to see her. Stan flicked some lights on and patted his head. “Let’s go get some food.”

  Samson followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, grabbed the food, and spooned it into a dish. While it was heating in the microwave, she glanced out the window.

  And sa
w Em’s car parked on the side of the house. When had she returned? And where was she? Perhaps she’d been called back for some emergency. She should run out and check the barn. While she was out there she could slip into the office and look for incriminating evidence against Leigh-Anne. Like a note confessing to everything. That would make it much easier.

  She put Samson’s food in front of him and left Petunia’s on the counter, and slipped out the back door. She knew her way around the farm as well as most of the staff by now. Dusk was settling, but she didn’t even need a flashlight. The floodlights were on and she didn’t want to draw any extra attention to herself.

  She crossed the backyard and headed toward the barn. Then paused when she heard voices. Soft, as if they were some distance away. Maybe it was Em. She couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Stan took a few steps in the direction they seemed to be coming from. Squinted. Was that Em over by the corn maze? She took a step forward, ready to call out, then gasped as Em’s companion came into view. Holding Em’s tied hands behind her back. Those blond curls were unmistakable.

  It was Leigh-Anne Sutton.

  Chapter 35

  Stan froze. Then the voice in her head screamed go go go and she dashed back against the side of the office building for cover. She was certain Leigh-Anne hadn’t seen her. She’d been intent on whatever she was doing to Em. She cursed herself for forgetting her phone. Now she had to get to one. The closest would be in the milking area offices. Where she was heading anyway.

  She paused, listening. Other than the faint sounds of Heather Langenkamp screaming on the movie screen across the street, she heard nothing. Except her own blood pounding through her body. Praying the door wasn’t locked, she slipped around the corner and tried it. It gave easily under her hand. Thank God.

  She stepped into the milking parlor. It was empty. Not time for a shift yet. The door to the offices was around the back. She headed that way and stepped into the hall.

  And almost collided with Roger.

  “Oh, Roger, you scared me! Thank goodness you’re here. We need to call the police. Em’s in trouble. . . .” Her voice trailed off. Roger hadn’t reacted at all to her appearance or her words. He simply stared at her.

  “Roger?”

  Roger slid his hand out from his pocket. The black metal of a small pistol glinted in the dim light. “Sorry, Stan. You’re going to have to come with me.”

  The cornstalks shifted in the breeze, rattling against each other. Stan could smell the slightly musty odor of the stalks coupled with the sweet, smoky scent of someone’s woodstove. It would’ve been a nice walk on a gorgeous fall night if her hands weren’t tied and a gun wasn’t poking her back. When they reached the crime scene tape blocking the maze entrance, Roger forced her under it. Her mind raced through escape options. Could she mule-kick him in the right place without him shooting her, then take off before Leigh-Anne realized what had happened?

  Roger shoved her around the first corner. Shoot. The farther they went into the corn maze, the more problems. If she tried to run she could find herself in a dead end. But he stopped.

  “Leigh-Anne?” he called out.

  Silence. They both waited.

  Leigh-Anne Sutton stepped out from around the first bend. She looked almost exactly as she had the last time Stan had seen her—blond curls falling out of a clip, jeans, the ever-present pink work boots. Except for a bloody cut on her cheek. And a gun in her right hand. Pointing right at Stan.

  “Stan! So glad you could join us.” Leigh-Anne’s voice carried that lilt Stan had gotten used to over the past week working at the farm, but it had taken on a sinister edge. That could, of course, be attributed to the situation.

  Stan processed the scene in front of her in a series of aha! moments that felt like they’d taken a long time to reach, but in reality couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Leigh-Anne was guilty. She and Roger were in cahoots. Em was in trouble. Oh, God. Had they already killed her?

  “Oh, don’t worry about your friend.” Leigh-Anne had read her mind. “Mrs. Hoffman is just fine. For the moment. We have a little business we need to take care of, so she isn’t going anywhere. But you and I are going to take a little walk. Who knows you’re here?”

  “Jake does. He’s on his way over right now. And his sister isn’t far behind.”

  She chuckled. “Nice try. Trooper Pasquale has her man. Well, he’s missing at the moment, but she’ll find him. And then, as far as she’s concerned, this case is closed. And if sexy bartender is on his way, well, it will be a shame but we’ll have to get rid of him, too.”

  Stan paled. He wouldn’t come over looking for her already, would he? She hadn’t been gone that long. She sent him a telepathic message to stay away.

  “Want me to take her?” Roger asked. He sounded tired. Like he was just trying to get a job done. And she could have sworn she caught a flash of guilt in his eyes earlier when he tied her hands. How had Leigh-Anne gotten Roger on board with this? Had he helped her kill Hal, or did he simply get in over his head and now he had no choice?

  “Why are you doing this, Leigh-Anne?” Stan blurted out. “If you killed Hal, you should just confess. You’re not going to get anywhere hurting other people. Do you think no one’s going to put it together?”

  “Of course they won’t. Especially now that Tyler is on the run. They’ll just think he’s on a killing spree. He actually did me a favor. Let’s go.” To Roger, “Is Miguel handled?”

  Her gaze was icy cold. Stan shivered. How had she not noticed the evil in this woman?

  Roger nodded. “I left him in the barn.”

  Stan closed her eyes. Had they killed one of the workers? Some poor immigrant kid who could barely speak English and was just trying to make a living?

  “Excellent,” Leigh-Anne said. “Take her up to the barn.” She motioned behind her. That must mean Em was still in the maze. Roger nodded and disappeared around a corner.

  Now it was just the two of them. Stan gauged her escape options. It had been a long time since she’d taken a martial arts class, but she had been good at kicking. Maybe she could use her feet to kick the gun out of Leigh-Anne’s hands.

  But Leigh-Anne was on alert, with what looked like her brand new pistol pointed steadily at Stan. Fancy one, too. Stan didn’t know much about guns, but this was clearly a high performer. At least it wasn’t a sickle. If she could distract her, she could at least make a run for it.

  Until the bullets caught up with her.

  Leigh-Anne shoved Stan roughly forward, causing her to trip. “Walk. No funny stuff.”

  “So you did kill Hal.” Stan forced herself to walk slowly despite Leigh-Anne pulling on her. Wherever they were going, she was sure it wasn’t good. The longer it took to get there, the more chance she had of figuring something out to save herself.

  “He left me no choice,” Leigh-Anne said. “I didn’t particularly want to, but I wasn’t getting anywhere being nice, either. He’s a hard man to be in business with. He cared more about those stupid cows than he did about making money. Always his problem, I swear. Too soft.”

  “Why? Because he didn’t want you for a partner?” she pressed.

  “Partner?” Leigh-Anne spat the word. “I didn’t want to be his partner. He had too many ethics to be in this business. I should’ve been running this co-op. It would’ve been better for everyone. I even offered to take over his silly farm, and he shut me down.” Her eyes blazed with the injustice of it. “Backstabbing fool got what he deserved. Threatening to report me to the Department of Agriculture for unethical farming? Me? I’ve made this operation more money in two years than he could ever dream of making.”

  So her story about Tyler approaching her to take over the farm had been a big lie. Stan should’ve seen it sooner. She mentally kicked herself for being so naive. Better to blame a sad, confused eighteen-year-old than a conniving, unethical farmer just because she was female? She had been so stupid.

  The more agitated Leigh-Anne go
t, the faster she walked, dragging Stan across the field as she tried to keep up, both with the pace and the litany of words. That had to be what the documents on Hal’s computer were about. He must’ve been gathering evidence for a complaint, and she found out.

  “And he was snooping into my personal life,” Leigh-Anne said. “Thought he could make the case that I got rid of my husband. I covered my tracks well, but I still couldn’t chance it.” She shook her head. “If he had spent half as much time trying to make the business money as he did trying to get me in trouble for the size of my cow enclosures, we would have been making a lot more money. He just had to go.”

  The words were chilling. Stan’s eyes wildly searched the property, empty on all sides, for some way out of this. They had moved away from the corn maze, the cow areas, and the offices, heading into the open field. Was Leigh-Anne going to take her into the woods and shoot her? Leave her body for compost?

  “You really think no one is going to figure all this out, Leigh-Anne? Jessie Pasquale is smart,” Stan said. “She doesn’t buy for a minute that Tyler killed his father.”

  Leigh-Anne’s grip on Stan’s arm tightened, her nails cutting into Stan’s flesh. “Shut up. You’re lying. I have been living and breathing this hick town, making sure no one else knew about Hal’s scheme to destroy me. That’s why I had to come here. I needed to get rid of whatever evidence he had. But I had a little trouble finding it. You of all people understand my pain. Trying to dig through the mess in that place is like finding a needle in a haystack.” She looked at Stan, waiting to see if they were going to share a moment. When Stan didn’t respond, Leigh-Anne’s voice turned nasty again.

  “It would’ve gone faster if you weren’t in the way. Stationing you in that office really threw a wrench in the works. But that’s Em. She never did trust me.” Leigh-Anne smiled at this.