A Fresh Kill

by Eryn Scott

  “Hey, buddy.” Hadley picked him up, feeling her shoulders settle for the first time since she’d found Charlie’s body that morning.

  The gentle sound of Ansel’s purring and the way he bumped his head into hers affectionately made her feel more at home than any house ever could.

  “It’s been quite the day,” she told him. Then she went on to explain the morning’s events.

  Since she’d gotten the cat a few months earlier, taking over his care when his owner had been killed, Hadley often found it helpful to talk things through with the cat when she had a lot on her mind. Of course he couldn’t talk back—or understand anything she was saying—but it helped her sort things out, often leading her to an answer when she couldn’t find it any other way.

  As she finished her story about Charlie and the odd assortment of clues so far, Hadley frowned, realizing that talking it through only made her more confused.

  Setting the cat down, she said, “Oh well, Paul’s on the case.” While the thought was encouraging—her brother was a great deputy—she couldn’t help but worry a little about his safety. Another murder investigation only reminded her of the last one when he’d been shot. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost her brother. Discomfort tightened her shoulders. Hadley smiled and pushed away the thought, glancing back at Ansel.

  “Besides, you and I have our own worries. We’ve got a month to find a new home, or we’re going to be living out of the jam kitchen.”

  Ansel meowed as if in agreement.

  Heading into the kitchen, Hadley began putting together some lunch. Then she settled onto the couch with a plate of food, a glass of iced tea, and her laptop. Ansel jumped up, settling on the back on the couch right by her shoulder. He liked to hang his feet over the edge, playing with her hair or occasionally clawing her arm and then acting surprised when she scolded him.

  Hadley took a bite of her lunch and pulled up a real estate site. “Let’s see what’s out there.”

  The site must’ve remembered her last visit because her location was already preloaded and it brought up a list of Stoneybrook properties. Hadley hadn’t gotten any farther than this screen the last time she’d logged in, so there weren’t any other specifications loaded other than the zip code. That meant anything available in the area showed up on her screen.

  She leaned closer to the screen, unable to believe her eyes as she looked at the newest listing.

  She sucked in a surprised breath. “Leo’s flower shop?”

  While the man was younger than her parents by about ten years, he’d owned the store as long as she could remember. Hadley recalled how angry he’d been about Charlie coming to sell at the market. Maybe it was borne from more than just frustration with their long-standing feud. Was it possible last year’s drama over the series of three wedding gigs Charlie stole from Leo—known around town as Wedding Gate—had done damage to more than just Leo’s ego?

  Hadley decided not to worry much more about Leo until she could talk with him about it. She stopped by every Monday when she went in to pick up her weekly order. Though the fact she hadn’t heard anything about him selling before now meant he probably wasn’t keen on talking about it. In a town as small as Stoneybrook, no one listed their house without everyone in town already knowing. So much so, Hadley often wondered why any of them used these realty sites in the first place.

  Now she realized the sites’ appeal over talking with people around town. The locals’ information about available houses also came with a barrage of questions and judgments. She couldn’t handle hearing any more opinions. Certain houses were just too big for a single woman. Was she sure she wanted to buy something before settling down with another man? Just remembering the ordeal made her wrinkle her nose.

  She’d contacted Deborah Sandstrom, Stoneybrook’s sole realtor, last week but every time the woman began asking her questions about what she wanted in a house, she found it difficult to decide on what she wanted next.

  Did she want something already built or land to build on? Turnkey or fixer-upper? Large plot or close to town?

  She and Tyler had been together since high school, so she’d always had him to help her with these big decisions. And, if she was being honest with herself, Tyler had been the one in their relationship to have the intense opinions. When Hadley looked back on their time together, she acknowledged that she’d been a fairly passive participant in their marriage.

  She sat up. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any to figure out what I want.”

  Clicking on the price-range box on the realty site’s search engine, she began entering her preferences.

  “At least an acre,” she said aloud, clicking the box on her screen. “I’d like to be close to town, sure, but peace and quiet is worth more to me than being able to walk downtown.”

  Ansel stretched, and one of his paws landed on her shoulder. “I’ll take that as an agreement.” She smiled. She’d made one decision at least. That wasn’t so hard. On to the next one.

  She took away the option for plots of land, realizing that even though she might want to build a house someday, right now she needed to focus on growing Pretty Jam Good. That led her to the last check, which was turnkey. Hadley wasn’t afraid of putting in some sweat equity, but it was all going into her business at that point.

  Minutes later, with some paw-specific input from Ansel, Hadley had a good list going.

  “At least two bathrooms, an acre or more. I want to be close to the river if I can, and I’d prefer three bedrooms but will work with two if I have to.” She read it aloud, then nodded. “I think we can work with that.”

  Finger hovering over her keyboard, she took a breath and then hit enter, waiting for the results.

  Forty-nine houses came up in the valley, but only seven were in Stoneybrook.

  Well, it doesn’t sound like I’m welcome at Paul’s if I do end up homeless, and I’m still not sure about Suze, so I’d better get searching. She sighed and pulled out her phone.

  “Hi, Deborah. It’s Hadley James. Yeah, I think I’m ready to start house hunting.”

  4

  Hadley found several houses online, and on Sunday afternoon, she waited outside her house for Deborah to pick her up to go look at some of them.

  The realtor drove a flashy, white SUV, one you could spot anywhere in town parked among the farm trucks and backroads cars. Deborah always said she needed to have something nice to drive her clients around in, and Hadley supposed that made sense.

  She didn’t like to admit it, but there was a slight wobble of uncertainty still about this whole house-buying business. Hadley would’ve normally asked Paul or Suze to come with her, but Paul was busy figuring out who could’ve killed Charlie, and Suze had apologized but said she was busy when Hadley had asked her yesterday via text message.

  The crunching sound of tires on her gravel road brought her back to reality. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Opening her eyes, she stifled a laugh at the garishly fabulous sight of Deborah waving from the driver’s seat. The woman’s hair was bigger and blonder than a teased-out pageant queen; her makeup looked like it would curl like too much paint if someone ran a fingernail over her cheek, and she wore more bling than most rappers. Hadley also knew from experience Deborah’s perfume was potent enough to smell at least two hundred feet away, and being confined in a car with her would most likely lead to a terrible headache at best and asphyxiation at worst.

  Pulling open the door, Hadley climbed in, gulping one last lungful of fresh air before closing it behind her. With the soft thunk of the door into place came two sensory assaults. First, the dreaded perfume, which smelled like potpourri and baby powder had an evil love child. The second assault came when she noticed another person sitting in the back seat. Hadley jumped at the sight of him.

  “Hey, Had.” Luke Fenton’s familiar voice felt like a punch to Hadley’s already somewhat tender gut.

  There were half a dozen reasons Luke had such an
effect on her, but only three that were important, or at least that’s what she told herself. First, they’d grown up together and had been good friends until high school when he decided he was too good for Hadley and Stoneybrook. Second, since he moved back to town from Seattle a few months ago, it seemed his main mission in life was to pull Hadley back into childish fighting with him, and—oh, yeah… third—he was her ex-husband’s best friend.

  “What’s he doing here?” Hadley asked Deborah, jabbing a thumb toward the back seat even though she already knew. Deborah was infamous for trying to set up clients by taking them out house hunting together.

  Luke clutched his chest and feigned pulling out an invisible arrow at her question, her tone, or both.

  Deborah smiled her big, flashy realtor smile. “Well, both of you just happened to want to go house hunting today. Isn’t it the cutest?”

  Hadley felt strongly that no, it wasn’t. She pressed her lips together. This had Deborah Setup written all over it.

  That was the trouble living in a small town like Stoneybrook—people knew every aspect of each other’s lives. Ironically, they often ignored the most important aspects—like how she and Luke had butted heads for the better part of a decade and barely tolerated each other—in order to push an agenda they believed in.

  “Oh, don’t worry, dear.” Deborah patted her arm and then put the gearshift into drive, pulling away from Hadley’s house. “Your lists of wants couldn’t be more different. The two of you won’t be competing for houses, I promise.”

  “Well, that’s no surprise,” Hadley muttered, glancing back at Luke.

  He winked at her. She stifled a groan and buckled herself in, sealing her fate instead of jumping out of the moving vehicle like she sorta wanted to.

  “We’re going to one of Haddy’s places first.” Deborah hummed a nondescript song that kinda reminded Hadley of “Pop! Goes the Weasel.”

  She cringed—because of the humming and the nickname. Hadley hated being called Haddy almost as much as she hated being called babe. The latter nickname had been coined by one of her classmates in high school when Paul had begun to grow his signature dark beard. Between the facial hair and his sheer size, people started to call him Paul Bunyan, after the mythical lumberjack. Hadley and Paul had always been close—built-in best friends, they’re mother called them—so it wasn’t soon after Paul’s nickname someone decided to be clever and call Hadley, Babe the Blue Ox, like Bunyan’s sidekick. As someone who had always had to watch her weight—and often watched weight gather around her hips if she didn’t take precautions or spend hours in the gym—Hadley didn’t appreciate the moniker. Not in the least.

  Just like she didn’t appreciate having Luke Fenton foisted upon her without warning.

  Deborah, seemingly unaware of the uncomfortable situation she’d put Hadley in, kept talking, filling them in on the house they were heading toward.

  “It’s got two and a half bathrooms,” she said, pausing as she thought of the other characteristics.

  “Oh, two and a half? Hmm… I want three.” Luke shook his head.

  Hadley fought the urge to glare at the man. Acknowledging his comment would only make him happy.

  “There are two bedrooms, which I know is on the low end for you.” Deborah tipped her head to one side.

  “Two? I mean, where will your guests sleep? Hads, come on.” Luke tsked. “You never want to put yourself in a situation where you’re choosing between your guests’ comfort and a home office.”

  This time, she did turn around, shooting him her best incredulous look. She knew Luke had grown up in a tiny farmhouse, and that kind of shallow talk was just his way of getting under her skin.

  Deborah, missing the flat note to his sarcastic statement, wrinkled her heavily made-up forehead and turned her attention to Hadley. “He does have a point. Do you want to skip this one?”

  “No, please. I would like to see it. My friends and family all live in town, so I don’t have any guests who need a place to stay anyway.” Hadley kept her eyes on the road as Deborah nodded and took the next turn down Huckleberry Lane, a small gravel road near the west edge of town.

  Darn, Hadley thought to herself. Maybe I spoke too soon.

  Despite the cute name, Huckleberry Lane had to be her least favorite area of Stoneybrook. It had neither a view of the river nor the surrounding mountains, but instead was surrounded by looming evergreens. And while she loved trees as much as the next Pacific Northwesterner, she was rightfully worried about the possibility of limbs or whole trees falling on her investment.

  And that was all she could think of as they toured the cute little cabin. Luke refrained from adding any commentary, thankfully, instead just following the women and watching Hadley as she took in each new room.

  Luke always told her he could read her like a book. Annoyingly, he was right much of the time. As the trio walked out of the house, Hadley schooled her features to hide the fact that—cute as it was—the house was a definite no.

  “What do you think?” Deborah asked.

  Before Hadley had a chance to open her mouth, Luke spoke up.

  “This house is not going to work.”

  But instead of following up that statement by bringing up the lack of bedrooms again, Luke said, “She needs to be able to look out a window and see the mountains each morning and watch the sun set behind them in the evening. And when she walks outside, this woman needs to hear the rushing river as loudly as her own heartbeat. If either of those things are missing, I’m convinced her soul will shrivel up and die.” He turned toward her and winked. “And we can’t have that, now.”

  Even though the tone Luke had used was playful and teasing, she found his comment kind of sweet, as well as spot-on.

  He cleared his throat. “Plus, the low number of bedrooms, of course.”

  Deborah glanced over as if checking to see if what he’d said matched with how Hadley felt. She nodded before looking down to hide the smile pulling across her face.

  The great mountain views were her favorite thing about her current house. It just held too many memories of Tyler for her to stay any longer. She needed to move past that chapter in her life.

  They all climbed back into the SUV, and Hadley felt her shoulders settle a little more, no longer feeling irritated at Luke’s presence in the back seat.

  “All right, Debbie. My turn next, right?” Luke asked.

  Hadley shook her head. Well, not as irritated.

  They toured a large four-bedroom house sitting right on the bank of the river for Luke and then a cute three-bedroom ranch with lots of character and three-hundred-sixty-degree mountain views from where it sat in the middle of the valley, for Hadley. Another practically palatial home got the thumbs-down from Luke when he noticed it didn’t have a garage.

  Tired of listening to the man nitpick beautiful houses when she could only afford half of what he could began to grate on her, so Hadley headed outside for some fresh air. She kicked at the pine needles blanketing the hard earth on the high bank of the river, wrapping her arms around her middle. A wonderful cool breeze whipped up off the water and twirled its fingers through her hair, some of which had fallen from her ponytail and framed her face. She swiped the toe of her sandal in the dirt to make a mouth and then made two short lines for eyes. Two dusty boots stopped next to her smiley face.

  “Deb’s just locking up.” Luke shrugged, then focused on her pine-needle-and-dirt design. “I remember you used to make these wherever you went. One time Paul and I found you and Suze on Jefferson Island just by following your sand smileys.”

  Hadley’s lips tugged into a reluctant smirk “Better luck next time?” she asked.

  Luke dipped his chin. “Yeah, there’s just something missing. I’m sure I’ll know what it is once I see it. But don’t worry, I promise I will not be present during your next trip. I honestly didn’t know she was making us look together until she picked me up.”

  Hadley sucked in a lungful of the river air, hat
ing to admit the day hadn’t been quite as terrible as she’d imagined it. “Good luck. When Deborah decides on a match, she’s like a dragon with gold.”

  Luke laughed. “Right you are.”

  Glancing up at him, she said, “Hey, you know about pesticides, right?”

  Tipping his head and lifting his eyebrows at her, Luke scoffed.

  Hadley put up her hands. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Your move to Seattle must’ve made me forget, farm boy.” Her expression turned serious as she remembered her question. “I heard about Barry’s bee colonies being poisoned by pesticides. What kind could’ve done that?”

  Luke’s jaw clenched tight. “There are certain combinations of fungicides and pesticides that wreak havoc on colonies. I don’t even know all that much about it, just enough to know I’m happy we’re an organic farm.”

  “But aren’t all of the farms in Stoneybrook organic?”

  While Fenton Farms was by far the largest venture, there were many small outfits who made a living as well.

  Luke nodded. “And Leo’s garden along with the nursery out on River Road are too.”

  “As are the individual homes. The town council passed a measure three years ago which outlawed people from using pesticides in their yards.”

  “I heard about that,” Luke said. “Of course, it doesn’t include Cascade Ridge, but Barry’s bees wouldn’t travel so far. Their range is a few miles at most.”

  It was almost as if Luke anticipated where her thought process was going. Even though he hadn’t been present at the market that Saturday, she knew he would’ve heard exactly what happened.

  “Oh. I see.” Well, that changed her theory. Charlie couldn’t have impacted Barry’s bees from that far away. Hadley chipped away at her nail polish as she thought.

  “So sorry,” Deborah said, scurrying over to them. “That darn lockbox gave me one heck of a time. Ready to go?”