“Glad to hear it.” And she meant it. After all, a happy guest could be a returning guest.
The rest of the evening was filled with music and jokes while they all laughed along with the crowd. Before it was over, Claire stood giving them a small wave goodbye then she left.
It was nearing ten o’clock by Liz’s watch when the band wrapped up the show with their final song. The crowd responded with a standing ovation and whistles. Her mind was moving forward to finishing up the chores that were waiting on her. She still had to put away the cooled milk and pasteurizer when she got home, knowing this batch would be tagged for baking but that wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, there had been several requests for bakery goods, something she hadn’t expected to happen. Her plan for some specialized advertising evidently had been a success. That’s when the idea of revamping her logo crossed her mind. She should put a detailed drawing of her old wood cookstove on her labels, after all, that was the encouraging factor for the sales she’d made.
The ride home with Brian was comfortably quiet with an occasional comment on the events of the day. When he let her out near her side porch, he commented on the darkened house then he opened his door to get out, but she stopped him.
“Oh, don’t bother. It’s okay. And thanks again for the ride.” She waved as she walked up the steps then he backed out of the drive. After hanging up her jacket in the pantry, she got busy putting away the milk and pasteurizer. As she finished up and was wiping down the counter, she heard the front door open. Claire had returned and without saying a word went directly up to her room. Liz was too tired for chit-chat so that was fine with her. She made the rounds of locking doors and turning out the lights. Unbidden, the words watch your back came to her again. And before she climbed into bed, she locked her bedroom door.
∞∞∞
The morning dawned barely at all through her bedroom window, and the overcast sky threatened rain. She doubted the sun would show up all day. Her tent would need to be put in the garage immediately even though she’d have to stow all of it in the lower part because it would take too much time to haul it up the stairs. She could move it all to the second floor later in the day. So, her first job was to put the tent inside quickly then do the milking. She didn’t want the nagging feeling of worrying about the rain and she wanted to enjoy the quiet time in the barn.
Ignoring the grumble of hunger in her stomach, she dressed for doing chores and got busy. Just as the last of everything was shoved into the garage, the first raindrops started falling. She pulled up the hood on her hoodie and trudged to the barn, empty pail in hand. Her night had been filled with bad dreams and she hadn’t slept all that well which left her feeling as though she was dragging extra baggage with her. Even Bess had refused to accompany her to the barn apparently preferring to be indoors rather than outside.
Snap out of it, she told herself as she pushed the side barn door open. Myrtie would get upset and not let down her milk if she sensed something wasn’t right. A bad attitude was not acceptable to this cow.
“Morning, girls,” she said without much energy. Pearl bawled as if she’d been abused and Myrtie paced and shook her head. Liz knew they were sensitive to anything out of the ordinary but what was up with all of this carrying on?
“Ladies, I’m not even ten minutes late,” she said quietly, hoping her voice would calm them. But they weren’t having her excuses apparently. “Are you really that hungry? Okay okay, I’m getting the feed. Right now. See?” She kept talking in a measured voice, letting them know she was there, and things were going to be fine. “I’ll be sure not to be a minute late next time. Not one minute.”
She set the milking stool in place and kept talking softly while they tried to concentrate on their grain, but it was a difficult task. Even the milking routine was out of whack as Myrtie kept sidestepping and fidgeting. Pearl bawled while she munched. Then finally the pail was full, well, almost full. Liz sighed. She set the pail safely in the corner of the stall out of the reach of Myrtie’s dancing feet then she turned both cows into the pasture. What a morning, she thought to herself, shaking her head and blaming it on the change in weather. Feeling like she’d rather be back in the house having breakfast along with a hot cup of coffee, she grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow instead. The barn was full of shadows but she knew the stalls needed at least a quick cleanup of the fresh cow patties. She turned to reach for the pitchfork near the stack of bales and immediately lost her balance when she stepped away then stumbled over something beneath a pile of loose straw. Grabbing for stability and flailing her arms like a windmill, down she went, banging her head hard against one of the stall gates.
“What the heck,” she said out loud. Holding her hand against her aching forehead, she tried to think what could have been buried in the straw to make her trip and fall. She stretched her foot out and pushed against what looked like a shoe sticking up. It resisted. Then she saw the other shoe and then the length of a khaki pant leg as her eyes focused enough to take it all in. Immediately, she scrambled upright onto her feet, resisting the unbelievable thought that came to her mind. But there was no denying the deathly still shape of a body that lay buried beneath the straw and there was no doubt who belonged to that khaki pant leg. Her eyes quickly scanned up the length of the strewn straw, seeking verification, but his face wasn’t visible, only part of his navy blue shirt. Backing away from the idea of touching him, which she wasn’t about to do, she knew in her gut that it was Kevin Jones. With shaking hands, she reached in her pocket for her cell phone, but it wasn’t there. Weeks ago, she had intentionally stopped carrying it with her to the barn in an attempt to simplify her life and give herself the freedom to enjoy the solitude during chores. Suddenly her head hurt like the devil and she briefly closed her eyes against the pain then stepped carefully around the shoes, unable to take her eyes off them. Once clear of his body, and with a pounding heart, she ran full force from the barn to the house.
Giving barely a thought to what she was doing, she left her boots on the porch and rushed straight to her bedroom where her phone sat on her desk, right beside the card Miles Taylor had given her. Her mind raced through a million thoughts while she punched in his number with trembling fingers. It took several attempts to get it right but finally it rang, and he picked up.
“This is Miles,” he said.
She was so glad to hear his voice that she almost cried, but the pounding in her head wouldn’t allow it.
“Hello?” And when she didn’t answer he asked again. “Who is this?”
She had to swallow twice before she could find her voice.
“It’s Liz Marsh. I need help. There’s a dead man in my barn.” She sank onto the chair at her desk because her legs would no longer hold her up. “Can you come?”
“I’ll be right there. Are you with the body now?”
“No. No.” She inhaled deeply to calm herself. “I’m in the house.”
“Good. Do not go back to the barn. Understand?”
“Yes. Yes. Please hurry!”
“I’m on my way.” Then he hung up.
Chapter Five
Liz waited for him on the side porch in her stocking feet, her jacket clutched tight to her body as she watched for Miles to come up the road. She heard the siren before she saw the flashing lights. For the past fifteen minutes, she’d been shaking uncontrollably as her mind replayed her thoughts over and over. How would she ever convince Miles, or anyone else, that she hadn’t killed Kevin? Only a fool would think she was innocent. It looked so blatantly obvious since he was in her barn. But she hadn’t killed him! The idea was absurd. He’d been the one to threaten her, not the other way around. And that thought chilled her to the bone. Would they believe she had committed murder in retaliation?
Miles walked with a brisk step to where she stood. This time his uniform and badge held no comfort for her.
“Are you alone?” he asked as he climbed the few steps and glanced around.
She nodded. “Y
es.”
“Where’s your guest?”
“I’m not sure but she’s been going for a run each morning usually while I’m in the barn doing chores. I haven’t seen her yet so I’m assuming she hasn’t come back.”
“Did you touch anything in the barn?” he asked, giving her a direct penetrating look.
“I was doing the morning milking, so yes, I touched lots of things. Like I always do. I’m not sure what you mean?” Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes for a moment. “If you’re asking if I touched the… body, no, I didn’t.” She drew in a breath. “Wait. Yes, yes I did. I stumbled over him.”
He nodded slowly. “But you didn’t check to see if the person is dead?”
“No. But it’s obvious. He’s dead. He’s buried under straw. Mostly.”
“Why don’t you go inside. I’m going to look around then I’ll be back.”
She looked up at him and without hesitation said, “I didn’t kill him.” Her voice didn’t shake and she said it with force because she meant it.
“We’ll talk when I come back.”
She watched him cross the distance to the barn with long strides then disappear through the side door. After a few minutes, he came into view again and strode back to the porch, a frown creasing his brow as his eyes searched up and down the road in front of her home.
Probably waiting for the coroner’s vehicle as well as all the others who would have to be there to investigate. This is a nightmare, she thought as the cold morning breeze seeped through her light jacket, and her thin socks gave little warmth. A complete nightmare. Out of the blue. She didn’t want to deal with police and courts and lawyers all over again.
Miles stepped onto the porch once more and gestured toward the door. “Can we go inside?”
“Yes, of course.” She opened the door and he followed her.
His face was stern with a frown set between his brows as he sat down across the table from her, his hands folded in front of him.
“Take a deep breath,” he said. “I had to call the main office for this sort of investigation. I’m not sure how long it will take them to get here. Now, tell me what happened. It’ll help you pull it together when you need to repeat it to them.”
So, she explained the details from the beginning when the cows were so upset right up to the moment that she called him, leaving out nothing.
He nodded at her. “I have some advice I want you to listen to and follow. You say nothing more than you already have and if you don’t have a good lawyer then we need to get you one.”
She inhaled sharply as panic gripped her. “I told you I didn’t kill him!”
He nodded. “I know you didn’t. I believe you. But it’s in your own best interests to get a good lawyer.”
He believed her! He said it plainly. She heard him clearly, and it gave her hope.
“Do you have any idea who the man is?” he asked.
She hesitated, wondering if she should admit she knew it was Kevin? But she needed a friend especially one in a uniform. And telling the truth was doing the right thing.
She held her breath then let it out. “Yes. We used to work in the same office. His name is Kevin Jones.”
He nodded.
Then she asked, “How did he die? I mean what killed him?” She stopped and put her hand to her forehead. “How was he killed?” Her head throbbed and she was stumbling through her words but at least she wasn’t totally incoherent.
“That’s up to the detective and medical examiner to determine. I didn’t disturb the body.” He hesitated then went on. “There’s a lot of blood. That’s all I’ll say.”
Outside, the sound of multiple sirens blasted through the air, echoing inside her kitchen. The gray, dingy day reflected the brilliance of the flashing lights against the side of the garage. It felt like being trapped in a cloudy bubble lined with noise and intensely bright neon signs. She braced herself for a long day of stress and turmoil. The bump on her head was nothing at all compared to the difficulties that were ahead of her. She touched the painful spot gingerly. That bump hurt like heck.
Two hours later, Liz sat at her kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her, untouched. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She didn’t want to say it all over again even though the whole thing continued to play in her mind like a nightmarish video that kept repeating itself. Miles had asked her to tell him everything, and when Detective Morris arrived, he’d asked pretty much the same questions plus a lot more. Throughout the entire ordeal, she remembered Miles’ words that she should be cautious until she had a lawyer. Well, she wanted to avoid that if she could. She’d lost faith in the authorities when Kevin had walked away a free man after the embezzlement trial in New York. At the same time, she wanted to keep herself from being arrested and that wasn’t an easy task especially with this particular detective. He’d pried and prodded her with more questions than she’d expected. Then finally, she asked if he was going to arrest her, to which he replied, not at this time but he also said she shouldn’t leave town. Her translation of that was he didn’t have enough evidence, yet. But he had to be thinking she was the only likely suspect. She was certain those were his exact thoughts, even his demeanor said as much, although, he hadn’t put any of that into words. His purpose seemed contrary to hers, but it shouldn’t have been. He was looking for a killer, but he wasn’t looking beyond her to find that person. She was his primary suspect and she knew it.
In spite of everything going on around her, she could still hear Kevin’s words as plain as if he were standing there… watch your back. If anyone had witnessed their argument or just overheard them, then she would instantly become the prime target. How long before that info came to the attention of the detective? She had to be the only person in town who even knew Kevin, and he was killed in her barn. She flinched, feeling physically ill.
Liz glanced up to see Claire standing at the counter in her designer jeans, vest, and hiking boots, making coffee for herself. She stared out the kitchen window watching the whole frightening scenario going on at the barn. Undoubtedly, she would be questioned too. Liz closed her eyes. So much for her first week of business as the owner of the B&B. The likelihood of Claire ever coming back again was nada, zilch. She glanced at Claire as she carried her coffee mug toward the living room, probably trying to figure out how she could get away from all the chaos.
A few minutes later she heard Polly’s voice, speaking softly in the next room as she asked Claire what was going on. Somehow Polly had managed to find a way to get past the crowd that had formed in front of the house by coming through the back enclosed patio room without being stopped.
“Betsy,” Polly said, her voice full of worry. She sat down beside Liz at the table and reached for her hand. “What has happened? Nobody will tell me anything. Even Jenny from the newspaper is here and she won’t talk either. She just keeps taking pictures with that phone of hers. And I swear she has one of those drone things flying overhead for more pictures.” She stopped and studied Liz. “Are you all right?”
“There’s a dead man in my barn,” Liz replied quietly. “I have no idea how he got there or what happened.” That was as much as she’d tell.
Polly gasped and clutched the front of her flannel shirt. “That’s horrible! I can’t believe it. How could something like that happen here? We all know each other and it’s for sure we don’t have a murderer in our neighborhood!”
The kitchen door opened and Detective Morris stepped inside. He briefly nodded at Polly before speaking to Liz. “The yellow tape is up and the area is secured which means the entire barn is off limits.” Then he added with emphasis, “Nobody goes in there. Not even the cows. Not even if it’s pouring rain.” He nailed her with a frown, almost a dare. “Understand?”
She nodded, wondering how she was going to work around that problem. She would need to buy more feed and hay since she’d have no access to what was in the barn. Even the milking would have to be done in the pasture. There was n
o other choice so she’d just have to do it.
“Of course,” she replied to him.
Polly was sitting at attention beside her as if she had radar homed in on the detective as he closed the door behind him.
“Well. I suppose that’s the way it’s done,” she said, looking a bit huffy. “But you don’t have to be milking out there in the weather or storing the grain outside either. I’ve got extra stalls in my barn and we can just walk Myrtie and Pearl down the road to my place. And I’ll do the milking for you.”
Liz started to object, but Polly held up her hand. “No, I mean it. This is just too much for you to deal with and I can certainly help out. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Thank you. Maybe by tomorrow I’ll get my thinking back on track.” Her headache had improved but her thoughts were so jumbled.
“Are you going to call your folks?” Polly asked. “I’m sure you’d rather not, but you know there are some friends who are likely to tell them.”
“I’m just not ready yet. But I will. Soon.” Liz hoped nobody called them before she did. But Polly was right, there were those who couldn’t resist spreading drama.
“Good. Now then, have you already put away the milk?” Polly glanced around the kitchen. “When did you have time for doing that?”
“I forgot to bring in the bucket. It’s still in the barn and that’s where it’s going to stay for a few days I suppose.” She made a face thinking of spoiled warm milk. “They’ll probably test it then dump it but then I really don’t know anything about crime scenes.” She doubted there had been a murder in Maple Ridge for decades, or even longer. She certainly had never heard of one. And that meant this would be the main topic of conversation in every café, in every small town, in every place where people gathered within a fifty-mile radius or more. She definitely had to call her folks by that evening.
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