by Lynn Cahoon
Angie followed him out to the driveway and watched as the men drove away. Funny how much information he’d given her in just a few minutes. She wondered if that was the secret to small town life. Learning what to talk about so people didn’t find out all your deepest secrets. She went back into the house and while she made herself a sandwich, she looked up the office address of the cheese commission. It was time for her to go see what this Mildred had to say about Gerald Moss. Besides, she was a possible user of the product. She had a right to determine if it was safe for serving and cooking with at the restaurant.
That was her story and she was going to stick to it.
After showing Dom the back yard and his new entry into the house, she took off for town. The menu would hold until this evening when she would finalize it for Felicia. Besides, she thought better if she had a little time to let things marinate. Thinking about her partner, Angie glanced at the clock. Ten to two. The electrical inspector should be at The County Seat anytime. She had just enough time to get to Meridian, find this office building, and talk to Mildred before five. She paused at the driveway. She could take the long way and go through town, maybe stopping and talking to Reana, or, she could drive to the freeway and take the faster route.
She chose fast. She popped in a Fleetwood Mac CD and sang all the way. The parking lot in front of the little white building was filled so she parked across the street at the bank and walked over. Opening the door to the office, she realized they must have been having a meeting that had just broken up. Men stood around the office lobby, drinking coffee and talking. Angie made her way through the crowd to a woman sitting at a small desk, a telephone at her ear. She was frowning at the crowd as she tried to listen to the caller. Finally, she put a hand over the headset. “Hey, quiet down. I’m on the phone.”
The voices turned to murmurs. Then she saw Angie standing by her desk. “Hold on a second. Let me finish with this guy.”
Angie flipped through the pamphlets on the desk apparently for visitors. Signing up to be a cheese commission member. And one last copy of, Government Grants and Subsidies. What you need to know. She grabbed a copy of both, shoving them into her purse while the woman finished her conversation.
Finally, she hung up the phone. “What can I help you with? You missed the monthly meeting if that’s what you’re here for. Starts promptly at noon. These guys love catered meetings.”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to Mildred for a minute.” Angie put on her best smile that she hoped didn’t make her look like a serial killer.
The woman glanced down at the phone on her desk. Another line was lit, then as she talked, it winked out. “She’s on the phone. Oh, wait a minute, she’s off now. So go on in. Third door to your left.”
“Thanks.” That had been easier than she’d expected. Angie quickly moved around the men whose conversation had increased in volume as soon as the receptionist had hung up the phone. The hallway was well lit, with framed posters of cheese. And two of friendly cows. There were no framed posters of goats. A photo of a large group of men with one woman in a dark blue suit and a flowered scarf had a small plaque under it. 2016 Cheese Commission Board. From what she saw in the promotional pictures in the hallway, Gerald Moss’s death must have made Mildred’s life ten times easier. A man swung a door open and stormed past Angie.
When she looked inside the office, a woman sat at her desk, her head in her hands. Angie counted the doors again. Yep, third door on the left, this must be Mildred. She knocked on the open door and the woman looked up at her.
Angie covered her mouth to hold in the gasp. It was the same woman that had been at lunch with Ian the other day. Was this Mildred? And who was the man who just stormed out, making the woman tear up? Curious.
“Can I help you?” Mildred composed herself and ran a finger under her eyelids to remove any stray tear that might have fallen. Now the woman was all professional.
Angie stepped in the room, her hand outstretched. “Hi, I’m Angie Turner. I’m opening The County Seat in River Vista and had a few questions about Moss Farm.”
The woman eyed her suspiciously. “Gerald Moss is recently deceased, but I’m sure you know that. Why do you want to know about his farm?”
“Actually, I wanted to know about the cheese. I’m planning on using some in my opening night menu and I wanted to see what kind of reports you had on the facility. Is he rated?” Angie sat down in the visitor chair without being asked and pulled out her notebook. If her pretend visit reason was to look plausible, she needed to act the part. She held up a pen and looked at Mildred waiting for an answer.
“We don’t really have a rating system, not for the goat cheese. It’s a newly regulated item. Ten years ago, we didn’t know there would be any kind of cheese besides good old-fashioned milk from cows. Now, you got all sorts of crazy things out there and I’ve got to manage it all.” She stood and took a cup over to her coffee pot. “Sorry, I’m whining. Let’s start over. I’m Mildred Platt and I wrangle the cheese producers in the area. Those that are part of the commission, that is.”
“Was Gerald Moss part of the commission?” Angie took the cup Mildred handed her and took a sip. Not bad.
Mildred waited until she sat down again to answer. “No, no he wasn’t. He thought we just wanted to mess up his business. To run him out of town basically.”
“Seriously? That’s some major paranoia.”
Mildred glanced toward the doorway like she could still see the man who’d left just before Angie had arrived. “That’s the thing. Now that Gerald’s dead, I’m not sure it was all just in his head.”
“What do you mean?” Angie leaned forward waiting to hear the woman’s theory, but then the door swung open again.
“Mildred, you need to come out here. Simpson is heckling Martin again. This time I think they actually may come to blows.” The harried receptionist stood at the doorway, waiving toward the outer area.
“Sorry, I need to go. Set up an appointment for tomorrow and we can talk about your options for cheese now that Gerald’s out of the picture.” Mildred stood and started walking toward the doorway.
“But they’re keeping the dairy farm open, aren’t they?” Angie followed her out of the office.
“That’s not what I heard yesterday.” She caught up with her receptionist. “Ian doesn’t think the business will be able to finish out the month and still pay their employees. I guess Gerald was hanging on by a thread.”
Angie stopped in her tracks and watched Mildred force herself between two burly men. There was no way she was going to follow her into that, even if she did want to know more about Mildred’s discussion with Ian. That must have been what the lunch was about. He was reporting the state of Moss Farm. Or maybe he was looking for financial help to keep it open? Either way, Angie couldn’t see this woman killing off a man who hadn’t even been part of the commission. But the two men puffing their chests out in the middle of the lobby, now they were a different story. She paused at the receptionist desk and the woman held out a card.
“Come back at one tomorrow. She’s at the farmer’s market in the morning and a lunch with her women’s church group but she always works Saturday afternoon in the office. I’ll make sure you get a good half hour.”
Angie took the card and used it to point at the two men Mildred was talking out of taking a swing at each other. “Who’s that?”
“Carl Simpson owns the largest dairy farm in Meridian. He’s been the big dog here for as long as I’ve worked for the commission.” The woman sat and turned her chair sideways to have a better view of the disturbance. She pulled a bag of pretzels out of her drawer and offered one to Angie. “The other guy is new in town, but thinks he knows everything. It ticks the guys off to have a know it all in the group. This time, Martin Lowe might have just pushed the wrong button. Carl’s been antsy since he heard about Old Man Moss’s death.”
“Do you know why?”
The woman shrugged. “He’s conceited enough that he might think someone is trying to kill off all the milk suppliers in the area. He doesn’t like it when anyone gets attention he thinks should be his.”
Angie wondered if antsy was the right descriptor. Maybe this Carl was jumpy because he was expecting the cops to show up at his door at any minute. Because he’d killed Gerald Moss and his conscience wouldn’t let him forget it. She tapped the card on the desk. “Thanks for this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You aren’t staying for the show?” The receptionist pointed to the men who were ignoring Mildred’s attempt to calm them down. The two men were taller than Mildred and were literally yelling over the woman’s head.
Angie shook her head. Listening to people yell at each other made her head hurt. “I’ll let you catch me up tomorrow. I’ve got things to get done today.”
“Your loss.” The woman turned her attention back to the men.
Angie had what she needed. An appointment to grill Mildred and find out what she knew about Gerald Moss’s death. And she had fallen into a large pool of suspects to give to Sheriff Brown that didn’t include herself or her elderly neighbor.
CHAPTER 11
After checking in by phone with Felicia to make sure the inspection had gone well, Angie headed home. Dom may not need out, but she didn’t want him to have any issues his first afternoon with his own personal door.
Besides, she had a menu to finalize.
She parked the car near her back door and hurried inside. Dom was asleep on his bed in the kitchen. Angie started cooking and didn’t stop until ten when she sat down at the table and outlined the final menu. She shot the list to Felicia’s email, even though she knew her friend was probably on some date or checking out the night life in one of the surrounding towns. For River Vista being so small, it was centrally located between larger towns that brought in people from all over the valley to celebrate the start of the weekend.
Dom had gone in and out several times, without disturbing her. But when she looked at her watch, she realized she hadn’t fed Mabel or Precious. “Crap.”
She grabbed a flashlight and headed outside, Dom on her heels. Mabel was in the barn near the food, pecking at grains that had spilled earlier. She scooped a cup and dumped it in front of the chicken. “I’m sorry dinner’s late tonight.”
The hen looked up at her in a disapproving stare, then started pecking at the feed. Angie took the other cup and filled it with the goat food. She made her way to Precious’s stall and dumped the food in her bowl. The water trough had an automated feed that kept the level even. Nona had put the system in years ago and when the construction guys had set up the new pen, they’d also checked out the water pump and deemed it good enough to keep the little goat hydrated.
Precious was asleep in the straw. When she saw the light, she came running to the gate, ignoring the food Angie had put in her dish. No, the goat wanted to be petted. Angie knelt on the straw floor and reached her hand through the gate slats. Precious’s hair was soft and her lips nibbled on Angie’s hand. “You’re such a love. What am I going to do with you?”
The goat bleated and Angie rubbed between the nubs that would soon be horns. Ian said he’d come over and dehorn the baby soon. Angie didn’t want to think about the process even though he’d said it would be painless.
Dom stood from where he’d been watching Angie and the goat. He stepped between Angie and the open barn door and growled.
Angie grabbed her flashlight and got to her feet. “What do you hear boy?”
She listened for a car door or any sign that someone had arrived at the farmhouse. But all she heard was the summer crickets. She checked on the goat’s gate, just to make sure it was closed, then, shining the light down to her feet, made her way to the barn door. She clicked off the light before she arrived, then stood in the darkness. letting her eyes adjust to the night. A slight breeze ran through the driveway, kicking up dirt but she didn’t see any movement, human or animal. Dom growled again, but this time, it was less certain, as if he didn’t know what he was seeing or sensing. She paused a minute longer, really focusing on the dark corners and hidey holes in the yard. Nothing.
She glanced back at Precious and wondered if she should lock her up in the barn at night, just in case the coyotes who took her mom came looking for the one who got away. Did they come this far down into farm country? She’d have to ask Mrs. Potter tomorrow. Just to be safe, she pulled the barn door closed on Mabel and Precious. Tomorrow she’d look at the other entrances and exits and make sure they were secure. Tonight, this would have to do.
As she flicked back on her flashlight and made her way to the house, she decided to take a quick trip into town first thing in the morning. Depending on the broadcast range, she thought she had just the fix for her concern.
The next morning when she went to feed the goat and chicken, everything seemed fine. She scanned the dirt for paw prints, but didn’t see anything in the dust outside the barn. Of course, she couldn’t even see her own foot prints from last night, which meant the breeze she’d felt had kicked up to a good-sized wind.
She finished breakfast and headed into town. On the way home, she got a phone call from Felicia. She picked it up using the car’s Bluetooth feature. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. Where are you? I thought you’d be at the farmer’s market as soon as it opened.”
She turned the car at the next intersection and headed into town instead of home. “I forgot it was Saturday. I just ran into town for something. I’ll be there in,” she glanced at the clock, “Ten minutes?”
“I’m already here. Do you want me to pick up what we need for Wednesday?”
Angie could hear the voices surrounding her friend and judged the crowd to be pretty heavy already. “You have the menu. Start shopping. Keep your phone handy, I’ll meet up with you as soon as I park.”
She pushed down on the accelerator, taking a chance on exceeding the speed limit by a few miles per hour. It wasn’t being pulled over that kept her vigilant on the drive, there weren’t many traffic cops out in the rural side of town where she found herself. No, she was on the lookout for the random loose dog, goat or, worse, cow, in the middle of the road. If she hit a cow or a horse, she’d kill the animal as well as total her car. And, probably, send herself into the hospital with a few broken bones. When she was a kid, her best friend Holli Blackwell’s mom had been driving home from Saturday shopping and had clipped a Black Angus bull that came out of a corner in her blind spot. She’d rolled the car and without a seatbelt to secure her, she had been thrown out of the car and killed. Since that time, Angie had always worn a seatbelt, even if she was just going down the street.
Thinking of Mrs. Blackwell, Angie dropped her speed back down to the legal limit. She’d get there in plenty of time and besides, Felicia knew what to look for. She could count on her friend.
She finally found a parking spot two blocks away from the old high school gym. Throwing her wallet and phone into her large tote with a strap so long she could cross it over her body, she locked the car and powerwalked to the market. She dialed Felicia’s number. When she picked up, she just started talking. “I’m here, where are you?”
“The trout farm stand. You should see how lovely these fish are.” Felicia answered.
“Which end of the market, north or south?” Angie knew they didn’t always set people up in the same spot. She wondered if Moss Farm would have a booth today, especially after Mildred’s statement that the place was underwater in debt.
“North side, almost at the end.” Felicia paused. “I see you coming. Do you see me?”
Angie looked up and saw her friend waving wildly. In true Felicia style, she wore a sky-blue sundress that looked like the ones Angie had longed for in high school. Lacy and feminine, it made her friend look young and better, friendly. S
ince they were making connections for the restaurant today, it was a perfect outfit. She looked down at her own cutoff jeans shorts and a blue tank top. It was clean, but she looked more like she should be working the farm not opening an upscale restaurant. Oh, well. Like Nona always said, the wrapper isn’t as important as what was inside. “I’ll be right there.”
She tucked the phone into her jeans pocket and crossed the street to the market.
Felicia pulled her close and smiled at the young man who was standing on the other side of the stand. “This is Angie, she’s the head chef for The County Seat. Angie, this is Jacob. He and his family have owned the trout farm for over twenty years.”
“I was telling your friend that we have natural hot springs on the property. That way, we can keep the temperature perfect for spawning and raising the fingerlings.” Jacob must have read Angie’s confusion. “That’s what we call baby fish, fingerlings.”
“I was picturing potatoes.” Angie admitted. She stroked the skin of a large trout on display. The eyes were clear and bright. This fish had just been harvested within the last few hours. She lifted it up and took a whiff. Fresh and clean. “We’ll take half a dozen for today, but can we special order and pick up on Thursdays when we open?”
“I already set that up.” Felicia held out a card while Jacob slipped six trout into a bag and quickly weighed them. As he wrapped the weighed bag in paper wrappings, Felicia handed her credit card to the woman who was manning the cash register. “One supplier down, a ton to go.”
“I’m hoping one of the farms can do most of our vegetable orders, but I know we’ll have to find different fruit and herb suppliers.” Angie glanced down the already crowded aisle and spotted Ian talking with a young man who appeared to be stocking cheese curds on ice. “I’ll be right back.”