by Lynn Cahoon
“I should. She sold me the building where I’m opening my restaurant.” Angie knew where this was going. “Besides, we talked a little as I was leaving. It’s not like I caught a glimpse of her from far away. Reana arrived somewhere around 8:00 a.m. because I checked the clock on my dashboard when I left to see what time it was.”
“Did you have another appointment?”
“No, I wanted to spend the day developing menu items for the opening. It takes time to get everything just right.” She paused. “And I wanted to make jam the next day, but you know how that turned out.”
“Too bad about that. Sorry we interrupted you so early.” He put his glasses on and peered at a sheet of paper. “You’re absolutely sure on the date.”
“I am. Mostly because I had just met Mr. Moss the day before. Ian can verify that. He saw me at the market and we talked.”
“Yep, he mentioned that, but when I asked if you could have known Gerald prior to that date, he was a little hesitant. He said your dog tried to get between him and Gerald due to a heated discussion.” He leaned back in his chair. “Does your dog go on protection mode for everyone?”
“Actually, he doesn’t like raised voices. But he stepped in between me and Ian. Not Ian and Mr. Moss.” She let her back straighten and looked him directly in the eye. “I’ll make this clear. The first time I met Gerald Moss was Saturday at the farmers’ market. No matter what Reana says. Besides, he couldn’t have been at his place meeting with all of us on Saturday, the market opens at nine.”
“If Reana’s story is the truthful one, he would have just enough time to leave the farm to get to the market and still be within your timeline.” He threw down a pen. “I was hoping you’d give me something stronger.”
“I’m not lying.” Angie was starting to worry about where this whole line of questioning was going. “Wait, what about the milkers? They were still there when I pulled up. And I bought the Ding Dongs for the meeting on Saturday. I probably still have a receipt in my purse for them.”
“I’m interviewing the milkers tomorrow morning. Maybe one of them saw you, but typically, they leave from the back gate. It’s closer to town.” Sheriff Brown leaned forward. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just have conflicting stories and I have to know what’s behind them.”
“Then go figure out why Reana it is lying.” She wondered if she should tell him Reana’s story about the phone. Now, it seemed like more likely it was just a story. Instead, she pointedly looked at her watch. “Are we done? I have a dog at home who probably needs to be let out.”
“Sure.” He stood. “I need to get home anyway. The missus doesn’t like me late for dinner. Of course, that’s happened too often to count with this job. You’d think she’d get used to it over thirty years.”
He walked her out of the building, then stood watching as she made her way back to the restaurant where she’d parked. She thought about Reana’s insistence that she had been there on Saturday and wondered why, even for a real estate contract, the date would make any difference at all.
* * * *
Thursday morning the fencing guys were there just after she’d gotten everyone fed and had sat down with a cup of coffee. When she’d called the company early in the month, they’d put her on some sort of standby list. For in between big jobs. The good news is they would be in and out of her place today. She walked the crew manager over to the barn where she’d laid out a more permanent area for Precious.
“No problem, we can probably get that done today too, but I’ll have to run into town for more materials.” The man tapped on the barn posts. “This old thing is in great shape. That’s what happens when you purchase quality materials to work with.”
He promised to give her a quick estimate of the additional costs, but Angie’s mind was made up. She was keeping the stupid goat. As she walked by the back yard where Precious was watching all the excitement, the goat saw her and bleated a greeting.
“She knows her mama.” One of the men joked. “Baby goats bond quickly with humans when they are isolated from the herd.”
“You know a lot about goats?” Angie paused next to the guy who was laying out boards for the new fence.
“Grew up on a farm. Everyone has a goat at one time or the other. It’s your first large animal project for 4-H.” He grinned at her. “I named mine Thor. He would follow me anywhere on the farm. When I left for the army, my mom kept him around for years, mostly for the company I think. My dad had passed a few years prior and she downsized most of the animal herd.”
“Except Thor.” Angie loved the story. It was something her Nona would have done. Kept the pet she’d loved as Angie went out into the world. That way, when she’d come home, they’d still be there, waiting.
A car pulled into the drive way. Felicia waved at her from the front seat. Angie excused herself and walked toward the car. “You here for breakfast?”
“Actually no, but since you mentioned it. Yum. I haven’t eaten yet. What are you making?’ Felicia got out of the car and looked around. “You remodeling again?”
“Fence day. By the end of the day, Dom will be able to use a doggy door in the mud room and go outside to his private back yard retreat any time he wants too.”
“Isn’t that going to be a problem with the goat being there? He’s kind of a chicken when it comes to her.” Felicia followed Angie into the kitchen and dropped her bag on the table before heading to the coffee pot to pour a cup.
“Precious is getting her own space in the barn.” Angie held her hand up. “No judging. And I don’t want to talk about what a softy I am. What do you want for breakfast? I can do an egg and avocado toast real quick with some cherry cobbler for dessert.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Felicia went back to the table and dug through her purse. “And I come bearing gifts. This arrived in my inbox sometime last night. I think I have your new sous chef.”
Angie took the printed resume and laid it on the counter, reading as she cooked the eggs and toasted thick slices of the focaccia bread in the oven. “He looks perfect. What’s the catch?”
“He does this Basque Festival every July he’s already committed to, so he’ll need a week off next month.”
“That’s all? No prison record, no warrants, no personal life issues?” Angie glanced at Felicia. “Did you call references?”
“First thing this morning. Everyone said he was a quiet, hard worker. But…”
Angie finished plating the dish and took the two plates to the table. “But what? Come on, spill. A guy with these types of credentials should be working as an executive chef by now. Why is he interested in a sous chef position?”
“According to the references, he has a bit of a temper and, I quote, a problem with authority.” Felicia dug into her meal. “You need someone soon.”
Angie considered her options. Take a chance at having no one, or hire a known hothead. “Maybe he’ll be different with a female boss.” She mentally flipped a coin. “Hire him. If I don’t think he’ll work out we’ll keep looking.”
“I’ll call him after breakfast. So what did Sheriff Brown want yesterday?”
“Mr. Moss was murdered, at least based on the coroner’s preliminary report. Now, he’s questioning my relationship with the guy.”
“What relationship? You met him, what, twice? And now you’re stuck with taking care of his baby goat?” She held up a fork. “Don’t tell me they think you’re involved somehow?”
“I don’t get that feeling, but there might be a problem, especially since Reana is contradicting my statement.” Angie went on to tell Felicia what had happened, except the encounter with Ian and what the sheriff had said about her getting in the guy’s head. Her friend had too much matchmaker in her to divulge that nugget. If she didn’t watch out, Angie would be married off to the guy with Felicia’s maneuvering. When she got to the end, she finished her breakf
ast and got out the crumble and ice cream. “Want yours heated?”
“Please.” Felicia took her own empty plate to the sink after giving Dom a crust of bread. “We might have to figure out who killed Old Man Moss ourselves just to save you from going to prison. The good news is it’s right between Boise and here. Out in the desert.”
“I think that’s the male facility. I wouldn’t be going there.” She set the dessert dishes on the table and ladled out the last of the black pepper ice cream. She’d been eating way too much, mostly because of the stress of opening, now she had to save herself from a murder rap? She would definitely have to make brownies next week. Just to survive. She grabbed a notebook and a pen from her supply. “I feel like no one is standing up for him. Mrs. Potter hated the guy. The Sheriff doesn’t seem to want it to be a murder. And all the cheese guys are glad the goat man is gone. He needs someone in his corner. Nona would have helped. So who do we know would want to kill Mr. Moss?”
They brainstormed a few names. Angie lifted eyebrows at Felicia’s mention of Ian, but wrote his name down anyway. “I think the only thing he’s gotten out of his death is more work.”
“Yeah, but some guys crave power. Even in a baby pool like River Vista. I know, it’s a long shot, but aren’t we brainstorming? And you know the rule…”
“Nothing is ever too stupid.” Angie finished her sentence. They’d been brainstorming for most of their friendship. 100 ways to make a chef salad. Or one Sunday, as many ways to make a Bloody Mary that they could think of. She still remembered the hangover that next morning since they’d tested out more than a few of the drinks. Angie glanced over at her friend who had finished her cobbler and was now stroking Dom’s ear. The dog was in heaven. She was lucky to have such a good friend. Sometimes, things just worked out.
“We have Reana. And the missing nephew. What about him?” Angie wrote down a question mark after the word.
“We’re still brainstorming. No evaluations yet. Who was Reana planning on selling to? That could be the killer. He got tired of waiting.”
“But she claims Mr. Moss was considering selling. Oh, and the lady at the cheese commission. Mildred? Mr. Moss said she was out to close him down.” She glanced at the list.
“There’s another line of maybes you haven’t written down yet.” Felicia held out her hand for the pen and wrote Mrs. Potter and Erica on the list.
“That’s silly.” Angie challenged her friend but Felicia held fast to the pen.
“It’s the brainstorming rules, you have to put down everything, even if it’s silly or stupid because it might spark another idea.”
“Okay, they can stay, but are we done for now?” Angie glanced through the list. Most of the names were just thoughts about people who might be angry at Moss. Except for Mrs. Potter, who had come out and said she was glad he was dead.
“I can’t think of anyone else.”
“Good, you go call and hire the new sous chef and I’ll get Nona’s yearbooks. Maybe we can scratch off Mrs. Potter and Erica before lunch.”
CHAPTER 10
By lunch time, all they had was more questions. Felicia glanced at her watch. “We’re not very good at this investigation thing. Anyway, I’ve got to go. The electrical inspection is at two. Are you going to have the menu done by Monday? The printers said they need a few days to get it typeset and run.”
“I guess since I haven’t found any smoking guns in these old yearbooks, I should get back to work on the menu. I’ll have something you can look at Sunday night. Maybe you should just come over for dinner and I’ll run the dishes by you then.” Angie stacked the yearbooks in a pile with the notebook she’d been making their brainstorming notes in. “Did you see what Mrs. Potter’s sister listed for clubs? She was in dance, drama, and some sort of speech club. And Mrs. Potter was president of the Future Homemakers of America. Totally different kids.”
“My sister and I were that way. She’s a big shot in the army now and I’m in the restaurant business. It’s just what floats your boat.” Felicia keyed something into her phone. “What time do you want me here on Sunday?”
Angie thought about her plan. “Early. We’ll do a dry run for all the dishes. So come hungry.”
“I can do that.” She stared out the screen door toward the Potter farm house across the street. “Do you really think Moss could have killed her sister? I didn’t see anything bad in any of those yearbooks. He looked like a nice kid.”
Angie went to the sink and rinsed her coffee cup. She needed to slow down on the caffeine or she’d never sleep tonight. “I’ll admit, it seems odd, but she was so serious.” She joined Felicia at the door. “I don’t know, and the two people who do know are now dead. It could be a coincidence.”
“Maybe you should go over and see if she’ll tell you anything else.” Felicia started to leave, then turned and held out a hand. “Stop. Don’t even think about this. Until we know she’s not a murderer, you should stay out of that house. Don’t they call those women too stupid to live when they go down into the basement to check out a noise?”
“I won’t be stupid.” Angie smiled at her friend. “Besides, do you really think either Mrs. Potter or Erica could really kill someone?”
“It’s always the quiet ones when they interview the neighbors. Just once I’d like the nosy neighbor to say something like, I knew it. I knew it. They were always carrying chainsaws into the house and boxes of poison. I told my wife, just wait. Those people will be in jail sooner than later.”
Angie shivered. “I don’t know if I’d want to know or not. Knowing makes it all the creepier, at least in my mind.” She motioned Dom to stay inside and followed Felicia outside to her car. “You sure I can’t make some lunch up for you before you leave?”
“Nah, I’m stopping at the River Vista Drive-In. I’ve been craving one of their triple decker hamburgers.” When she saw the look on Angie’s face, she laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m getting a small fry to go along with that.”
“So only half your arteries will be clogged after the meal. That’s being kind to your heart.” Angie waved her friend off and then went over to check on the fence progress. Dom’s new outdoor patio was all fenced in and the dog door installed in the mudroom door. The crew manager came over and nodded toward the house.
“That’s the biggest door they had. I’m not sure what you’re going to do when he’s full grown, but I’ve seen dogs who should be too tall bend down to get out. Now if he gets too wide, you may have another issue.”
“I really wasn’t planning on getting a St. Bernard. But when I saw the litter, I knew I was done for.” Angie smiled at the memory. She put her hand on the gate and jiggled it. It felt solid under her weight.
“He’s not pushing that over. We dropped an extra five inches of cement into the post holes. Just our way of helping keep him inside the fence instead of running out in the road. Too many dogs get hit out here.” He opened the gate and crossing the yard took Precious off her lead. “Let me show you the princess’s new digs.”
“You’re done already?” Angie followed him to the barn. Precious watched her over the guy’s shoulder. The goat thought she was a lap dog.
“Yep. Your barn has good bones, I told you that.” He directed his men to start loading up the tools in the truck. “We finished a good two hours before we’d planned so you should be getting a nice cut on your bill.”
She watched as he put Precious in a stall and shut the gate. He or someone in his crew had already set up her indoor pen with straw and put food and water into the containers that they’d found in the barn. Precious looked around, and then jumped. “She likes it.”
“You do know how to take care of your pets.” He leaned on the gate, watching her. “She’s a character. I think you’ll enjoy having her around.”
Angie nodded wondering again, what she’d gotten herself into. Mabel scratched in the dirt next to her an
d watched the interloper into her domain. “If I get to keep her.”
“So she’s from Old Man Moss’s tribe?” He grinned at the confusion that must have been on Angie’s face. “Tribe is what he always called the herd. I looked it up on Google one day. Surprisingly, a group of goats is called a tribe, along with a herd.”
“Yeah, she was lost so I tried to take her back to the tribe,” Angie tried on the word, smiling as she watched Precious find the food dish and start on her lunch. “Instead, I got a temporary house guest.”
“I’m not sure it’s so temporary. From what I’ve heard, no one’s come forward yet as a long-lost relative and the guy didn’t leave a will.” He looked around and dropped his voice. “I probably shouldn’t be saying anything, but did you know he was murdered?”
“I’ve heard that rumor.”
He shook his head. “Not a rumor at all. My wife’s sister works at the county coroner’s office and she said Old Man Moss was pushed off the cliff. Right there in his back yard. Too crazy, don’t you think? And someone at church said the cheese commission was about to shut him down so he was selling the farm.”
“I didn’t hear that.” Angie leaned closer. “Why would they shut him down? Health conditions at the plant?”
“Hell, no. He kept that milking facility and the cheese factory clean as a whistle.” He picked a piece of straw off his flannel shirt. “Everyone knows the dairy farmers have too much power here in the area. If they think someone’s encroaching on their income, any one of them would have pushed Moss over the cliff rather than try to work something out. I’m not kidding.”
A horn blared from the driveway.
“I’ve got to get going.” He nodded toward his crew. “We’ve got a porch to build over on one of the new houses in River Vista. That homeowner’s going to be pleased as punch that we’re early. They were hoping to get their job finished up by next week. I guess they’re having some party.”