Swan with the Wind (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 9)

by Ellen Riggs

  The dog whined and stared up at me pleadingly.

  “It’s almost like he understands you,” Bridie said.

  “He does, at least some of the time,” I said. “Sheepdogs are bred to read every flicker of an eyelid or twitch of a finger. Keats and I are attuned to one another.”

  “Now I see what Jillian meant about your magical connection.”

  “Just practical farm magic.” I listened for sirens and Percy picked up on them first. He climbed up the back of my overalls and sat on my shoulder. “The police aren’t far off. My policy in these situations is to say little. Let them do the talking.”

  “Exactly,” Jilly said. “We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. Right, Gran?”

  “Of course, Jillian. That’s the truth.”

  “No speculation. No gossip. It’s their job to figure out what happened.”

  “Lottie fell into the water and drowned, that’s what happened,” Bridie said. “Probably trying to get some photos of the swan or feeding it crackers. Those hibiscus petals couldn’t keep her afloat.”

  “Gran, that’s the kind of commentary to avoid. There may be more to this story than we know.”

  “More to the—” Bridie covered her mouth, and then murmured, “You don’t think Lottie was…?”

  “Don’t even say the word,” Jilly said. “It’s possible she fell prey to the swan… or someone else.”

  “Why would you even say such a thing?” Her grandmother lowered her hand and a dozen bangles tinkled. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me and now I can’t unhear it.”

  “We’re not sure, Bridie,” I said. “But we have seen how the pets behave in such situations. So you’ll want to be careful about what you say to the police. Be honest, but careful. Do you know if Lottie had enemies?”

  “Enemies?” Bridie’s green eyes darted all around. “Of course. We’re all enemies here.”

  “You can’t all be enemies,” Jilly said.

  “It’s more like an armed neutrality, I suppose. You never know who you can trust, and it changes by the day. There are factions like the Mighties and others. I have no doubt people will try to throw each other under the bus if the swan isn’t the villain.”

  “Gran, surely it can’t be that bad. What a horrible place to live.”

  “Oh, Jilly, it’s home. They’re my family now. We bicker, we make up. Nothing like this has happened before. I mean, if it’s what you think it is.”

  I looked down at Keats, whose convulsive shuddering had stopped. His flags had risen again, telling me we weren’t out of the woods yet. “So this Lottie had enemies…” I prompted.

  Bridie glanced out at the water and then looked away. “More than many. As our social convenor, she knew everyone. Their likes, their dislikes. Even their secrets.” She shuddered, as Keats had earlier. “In a place like this, information is currency. Lottie always had the nicest garden. People dropped off cuttings, and casseroles and little gifts. She walked around like there were springs under her shoes.”

  “Okay, now you know what not to say,” Jilly said, watching the police drive right up onto the grass. Four officers spilled out of two cruisers and ran toward us. “Remember your script, Gran. Please.”

  “I will, don’t worry.” She turned and her eyebrows shot up. “Well, I’ll be. Alice was right about your armed ginger, Ivy.”

  The cop in the lead had auburn hair. He would most certainly be considered handsome by someone who wasn’t lucky enough to have a tall, dark and handsome chief of police waiting at home. Thinking of Kellan now made me cross my arms and hug myself. He would be upset when he heard what had happened. While it had nothing at all to do with the farm or Clover Grove, somehow I’d stuck my foot in trouble again. Both feet, actually. There was grit between my toes and despite more pressing concerns, it was uncomfortable.

  “Don’t go there, either, Gran,” Jilly said. “Ivy’s happily taken by a wonderful man. And this isn’t the right time to be thinking about romance.”

  “It’s long past time for you two to be thinking about romance.” Bridie found a sly smile. “I consider you an honorary granddaughter, Ivy. The way you’re trying to help is more than most family would do.”

  That was probably a jab at Jilly for her long absence but Bridie was smart enough to be indirect.

  “My mom calls Jilly her best and favorite daughter,” I said. “And there are five Galloway girls.”

  “You’re all wonderful daughters,” Jilly said. “And Dahlia knows that full well. How many times have you helped her out of situations just like—” Her voice cut off suddenly and she finished the thought with a slight flick of her fingers toward the pond. Now the police were gathered around the body, one officer in the water up to his waist. Another was stuck in the muck not far from where I’d been trapped. It was surprising that senior residents hadn’t been pulled into the depths permanently. Or maybe they had.

  “Here we go again, Jilly,” I said. “Crime sticks to us like a bad smell.”

  “Quiet now,” she said, as Officer Auburn walked over. “New place, new rules.”

  Indeed. Here we didn’t have Kellan or Asher to take the lead. Nor would these men necessarily understand us—our humor, our camaraderie and our unique bond with Keats and Percy.

  “Normal,” I muttered. “We need to act normal.”

  Keats offered a little sneeze that sounded like, “Fat chance.”

  “We need to try, at least,” Jilly said. “And you keep quiet.”

  “Jillian. That’s no way to speak to your friend.” Bridie’s tone was severe.

  “I’m speaking to the dog,” Jilly said. “But you’re right, anyway. Sorry, Keats.”

  His mouth dropped open in a happy pant and he mumbled something along the lines of, “We’re all family, here.”

  “Exactly,” Jilly said.

  “Jillian. And you were worried about me. Don’t speak to that dog in front of—” She stopped and offered a wide smile. “Hello, officer. I’m Bridie Brighton, a resident here.” She introduced us and then added, “I’m sorry to say that we’re the ones who discovered Charlotte Greenwich in this desperate predicament.”

  “I’m Chief Gillock,” he said, curtly. “Please tell me exactly what happened.”

  We looked at each other and silently voted Jilly to be official spokesperson. She accepted the responsibility, knowing that her grandmother and I both had a little problem with oversharing. Bridie might be one brick short of a full load, but I was traveling light, too.

  “Chief, it’s all so shocking,” Jilly began. “My friend Ivy and I only arrived at the Briar Estates an hour ago after a long drive. We wanted to stretch our legs and Gran decided to show us the pond and the swan. Unfortunately, Ivy walked too close to the edge and sunk in the silt. Right in front of her was… well, this woman. Gran seems to think it might be Charlotte Greenwich, a long-time resident here.”

  “Lottie was our social convenor,” Gran said. “She organized some wonderful events and life is going to be terribly dull without her.”

  “Gran, we don’t know for sure it’s Lottie.”

  “I’ve been staring at the back of Lottie’s head for over ten years, Jillian,” Bridie said. “She was in the front row of every single board meeting and on her feet half the time arguing with the executive. Never could get herself elected, no matter how hard she tried. She deserved that role.”

  “Gran.” Jilly’s voice was low and insistent. “We haven’t let Chief Gillock get a word in edgewise.” She offered him her best headhunter smile—the one that charmed the most aggressive corporate sharks. “I’m so sorry, sir. As you can tell, we’re all rattled.”

  The chief’s jawline was as pale and chiseled as a marble bust, but the light dusting of freckles made it less formidable. Those flecks probably worked to his advantage when he wanted to be disarming, but right now they undermined his severe expression. I couldn’t help thinking of a kid dressed up for Halloween.

 
Shaking my head to dispel the image, I covered my mouth. A smirk would get me in big trouble, at least with Jilly. Fatigue made me giddy.

  “Have I missed something amusing, Ms. Galloway?” the chief asked.

  My hand dropped and took the smirk with it. I had been a corporate soldier for too long to let silliness get the best of me. “Of course not, Chief. As my friend said, we’re tired and shocked, but there’s nothing amusing about Lottie dying in a pond.”

  “If indeed it is Charlotte Greenwich,” he said.

  “As I told the girls, I recognize her dress,” Bridie said. “My grandmother had—”

  “Never mind,” Jilly said. “The chief will confirm the woman’s identity.”

  “If indeed it is a woman,” Gran muttered, mimicking the chief.

  Keats was the only one who gave a mumble of laughter and her eyes dropped to him with a startled look.

  The chief shook his head. “We’ll take your contact information and come by later to chat. In the meantime, expect a call to assemble at the recreation center so that we can brief everyone at once.” He glanced around. “Since I don’t see a vehicle, I’ll have one of my officers drive you home.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Jilly said. “Gran’s house is just a short walk.”

  “They’re lying in wait, Jillian,” Bridie said, gesturing to the crowd assembling at the entrance to the park. “Worse than turkey vultures.”

  “Gossip and speculation are exactly what we want to avoid,” Chief Gillock said, as he beckoned one of his men. “Please get in the car peacefully.”

  Bridie bristled at his implication. “I’d like to see you take me by force, young man. I have special abilities that might give you the shock of—”

  “Gran!” Perpetually cool Jilly lost her composure. “I’m so sorry, Chief. Gran studied martial arts, but I’m quite sure she wouldn’t use her moves on you.”

  For the first time, his lips twitched, ever so slightly. He wasn’t completely immune to the Jilly Blackwood magic after all.

  “Just go home, ladies.”

  “Chief, I lost a shoe, in case you haven’t noticed,” Bridie said. “Maybe you could get it for me.”

  Only the daisy on Bridie’s sandal was visible in the muck and Chief Gillock frowned. Before he could do the gallant thing, however, someone else beat him to it. Normally Keats hated getting his paws dirty, but he evidently wanted to impress Jilly’s grandmother. Seizing the shoe by the petals, he delivered it to her.

  “Well, thank you, Keats.” Bridie’s voice was almost a purr. “Still, I can’t put that filthy thing on. I’ll need to hop over to the car. Chief… would you?”

  Sighing, Chief Gillock allowed Bridie to wrap one arm around his waist and half-carried her to the police car.

  When he left, she smiled at us. “That’ll make a much better story for the Mighties, girls. They’ll think I was faint from the ordeal. We need to be strategic.”

  “Gran, just slide over,” Jilly said. “We all need to fit, including the pets.”

  I turned to follow the chief and Jilly came, too.

  “Let us know if you need help with your investigation,” I said. “If you suspect foul play, this is the dog for you. He has a great nose and even better instincts.”

  The chief tipped his head. “Now why would you ever imagine it was foul play?”

  The pinch Jilly gave me reminded me not to tell him the cat now cradled in my arms had said so. “I think everyone will blame the swan, don’t you? Fowl play.”

  “Ah, got it,” he said. “Although, it’s a poor time for jokes.”

  “It wasn’t the swan,” I said, staring out at the bird. The whole time we’d been talking, it had essentially paced back and forth, the loops getting shorter and shorter till it stopped now and faced me. “The poor thing is just distraught that it happened in his backyard, as it were.”

  “Ivy.” Jilly’s next pinch would leave a little bruise, like Keats’ herding nips. “Everything will come out in the wash,” she said. “Including all the dirt on your overalls.”

  As we walked back to the cruiser, I was acutely aware of the cold wet spot on my butt. Our escort, a burly cop about twice as tall as he needed to be, shook his head as we passed. A surge of heat rose up from my chest.

  Just because I had the best, most handsome cop in the world at home to call my own didn’t mean I was immune to the mockery of other officers of the law.

  “Throw down a blanket in the cruiser,” Chief Gillock called after us. “Something really stinks.”

  Chapter Eight

  The recreation room in the Briars’ community center was well appointed, at least based on what I could see of it through the crowd. There was a full wall of windows overlooking lush gardens, oak paneling on the wall opposite, and fancy chandeliers flickering overhead like old-time gas lamps. The carpet managed to be both attractive and sensible, and the folding chairs set up in front of a low stage had gel cushions that looked comfortable. Jilly said that Bridie complained about the cost of amenities but someone had made tasteful decisions about allocations.

  “Why couldn’t Lottie get herself elected?” I asked Bridie, leading her to a corner where Jilly and I could ask a few questions with less chance of being overheard. “She sounded like a good candidate for the board.”

  “She knew too much,” Bridie said, trying not to stare at my muddy boots and pants… and failing. “No one wanted to give her any more power than she already had.”

  “What was there to know?” I tried to hold Keats between my boots so he wouldn’t get trampled as people passed. They kept shoving me aside till I was the one who stomped a paw and made him yelp. “Sorry, buddy. At least it wasn’t a work boot.”

  Bridie crooked her finger, and Jilly and I leaned in to listen. “The place looks pretty, girls, but there’s so much going on under the surface. Treachery. Lies. Betrayal. And that’s not even counting the magic.”

  “Gran, you know we don’t believe in that stuff,” Jilly said. “At least the magic part. Clover Grove thrives on treachery, lies and betrayal.” Winking at me, she added, “No offence, Ivy. I know it’s your hometown.”

  I laughed. “I love it warts and all.”

  “You may be in denial about magic,” Bridie said, “but plenty of us believe. It’s part of our culture.”

  “Can we just stick to legitimate motives?” Jilly said. “If this were about… what you’re saying, it would have blown up long ago, right?”

  “I suppose,” Bridie conceded. “There are squabbles about magic but they always die down without anyone actually dying.”

  “Gran,” Jilly warned. “The walls probably have ears here.”

  “Someone must have been really angry at Lottie to do something like this,” I said. “Wouldn’t that have gotten around?”

  “Lottie had a knack for showing up in the wrong place at the right time. Yet despite what Cherise said, she didn’t dole out gossip like the Mighties. She kept her cards close to the vest.”

  “Maybe she didn’t really know anything,” Jilly said. “Or didn’t care as much about secrets as you think.”

  “If that were true, I guess we wouldn’t be crammed into this room right now,” Bridie said. “Although I still want to believe it was the swan. Or an accident.”

  “Keats and Percy believe Lottie left the Briars the hard way,” I said.

  “There’s only one way, really,” Bridie said. “Once you check in it’s nearly impossible to leave otherwise. No one ever tells you that. They make it sound like a luxury cruise.”

  Jilly’s whole body seemed to clench as Bridie stepped into historical territory. “I’m sure Aunt Shelley thought it was for the best, Gran. For your own safety.”

  “For her own safety, you mean,” Bridie said.

  “Well, you could have said no, right?”

  “The boxes on the paperwork said yes or yes.”

  “Oh, Gran. You promised not to talk about all this if I visited. I’m happy to see you, b
ut I don’t want to spend our time reliving the past. You know I had nothing to do with any of it.”

  Bridie patted Jilly’s arm and nodded. “I do. I guess I’m just upset about what’s happened. I’ve felt trouble in my bones for a long time, and that’s why I called you. It wasn’t just about the swan.”

  “I figured,” Jilly said. “Let’s just salvage what we can from our visit while this gets sorted out.”

  I maneuvered my way back into the conversation. “Bridie, I meant what I said earlier about Keats having a nose for sleuthing. Percy has special gifts, too. If you know anything else about Lottie, maybe we can help the police get to the bottom of it faster.”

  “I’m not on the best terms with the Mighties right now, so I don’t hear much. But even I can’t help catching the drift now and then. Gossip is in the water, like a sewage problem.”

  “Is any of this sewage smelly enough that someone would have wanted Lottie gone?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. We’ve all got secrets so it sort of nets out.” Bridie pointed at two bald, paunchy men now standing on the stage. They looked similar except that one had a goatee. “The man with the beard is Vaughan Mills, board president, and the other is Ford Fletcher, vice president. Last I heard, Vaughan was having an affair with Ford’s wife.” Scanning the room, she flicked her index finger at a tall woman in a mint green suit with a matching striped scarf that looked like it was tied too tight. “Alba Fletcher. That’s probably why Ford ran Vaughan down with his golf cart last month. Or maybe he just wanted to take over the board. Either way, it didn’t help because Vaughan only broke a toe and continues with his official and unofficial activities.”

  “Oh my,” Jilly said. “It is like Clover Grove.”

  “The smaller the pond the more savage the fish,” Bridie said.

  “What about Vaughan’s wife?” I asked.

  Bridie pointed to a sweet-looking woman in a motorized wheelchair. “That’s Shirley Mills. She takes delight in reversing that chair into people and objects. There are bruises and dents all over the place.”