by Ellen Riggs
I was riding Buttercup’s brakes, too. The car was playing fast and loose with the rules of the road. No wonder Mom struggled with stop signs. This old girl was a bronco who required force, as well as finesse.
“Maybe I am a little,” Jilly admitted eventually. “My intuition says the timing isn’t quite right for us.”
“Your intuition? Is that something like spidey sense? Which you’ve just told me not to trust?”
She turned to shoot me a glare. “Very funny. Romance and reckless behavior are two different things.”
“Since when?” I pulled up in front of the house and took a stab at parallel parking. Without power steering and brakes, it was like maneuvering a yacht. “Both can be dangerous.”
“I suppose we’re speaking of Chief Hottie, now,” she said.
“In our case, he’s the one riding the brakes. I’d free up some time in my schedule pretty darned fast if he invited me on a real date.”
“We’ve already established that you’re a risk-taker.”
“You’ve notched up plenty of points for courage lately, my friend.” I pulled the car out again and tried some new moves. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do this.”
“All right,” Jilly said, sighing. “I’ll say yes the next time Asher asks me.”
“Perfect. I meant Buttercup but that worked out well. And there’s no time like the present, because here he comes now.”
I jumped out of the car, leaving it running. “You want me to drive that thing, you can play valet,” I said.
“You got it.” He was grinning from ear to ear as he noticed Jilly had stayed inside.
Grabbing his arm, I said, “Be good to my friend, okay?”
He nodded before squeezing behind the wheel. “I got this, sis.”
I walked into Daisy’s kitchen with only my canine backup, since Jilly was canoodling in Buttercup.
Everyone except Asher has assumed normal positions. Daisy wandered around with a spray bottle of cleanser and a cloth, wiping down anything anyone touched. Mom sat on a stool that was far too high for her, pumps swinging and clacking against the metal legs. Iris sat with legs crossed and arms folded at the kitchen table, the elegant opposite to Poppy, slouched beside her. Poppy’s hair had been red the last time I saw her but today it was an interesting shade of gunmetal blue. Meanwhile, genial Violet wandered from place to place trying to soothe everyone’s frayed nerves when hers were likely the most frayed of all.
Asher came in holding Jilly’s hand. Her face looked like the middle name all the Galloway women shared: Rose.
“Jilly, darling, come for a hug,” Mom said. “If I get down from here, I may never get back up. Why do you insist on such high stools, Daisy?”
“Because I have five men in the house over six feet tall,” Daisy said. “You could sit at the table, Mom.”
“And miss towering over all of you? Never.” She leaned over and gave Jilly a hug, allowing my friend to prop her up before she slid off. The red satiny skirt Mom was wearing was just a bad call all around.
“Jilly and I are on the clock,” I said. “So let’s get to the good stuff. What’s Mom done now?”
My mother smirked. “Darling, take my stool. This time the hot seat is yours.”
“Mine! What did I do?”
“Daisy has been elected spokesperson.” Mom spun back and forth on the stool to watch everyone’s expressions. That was going to end badly, if she didn’t mind her satin.
“Then let me speak, Mom,” Daisy said. Her face twitched from the burden of delivering the message they’d developed together before I arrived.
Everyone fell silent and my eyes jumped from her face to Asher’s. Normally he was all smiles, but today, despite making headway with Jilly, he looked more solemn than I thought possible.
I looked around for Keats and found him already sitting on my feet. He knew I was in trouble before I did.
“Daisy, just get it over with,” I said. “I can take it.”
She sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “We want you to sell the farm.”
“Sell the farm! Are you kidding me? This farm is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You’ve almost been killed twice and now you’re in trouble again.”
“Who says I’m in trouble again?” I turned to my brother. “Asher, what gives?”
“Edna Evans,” he said, shrugging. “She got a bad egg.”
“Could you be more specific?” I asked.
“Not without aggravating my boss.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’ve already said more than he wanted.”
“Are you NOT saying that Edna was poisoned?”
He nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m not saying.”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“You served the poison.”
Jilly gasped and walked away from him to stand beside me. “The monogrammed crème brûlée. Made with Edna’s own eggs.”
“How tragic,” Mom said. “You baked this toxic dessert, Jilly? Or was Mandy McCain responsible?”
“Mandy made and decorated them.” Jilly’s voice faded to a whisper. “But they were under my care all day.” Her voice was a mere peep when she added, “No one else got sick.”
“You did nothing wrong,” I said. “Obviously someone spiked Edna’s portion. One of the guests, I presume.”
Asher sliced his finger across his throat. “No speculation, no discussion. Chief’s orders.”
I stood to my full height and straightened my shoulders. “One of my guests was poisoned, Asher. I’ll be speculating all right.”
“Then speculate silently.” He nodded at Mom. “Please.”
“I’m not the squeaky wheel in this family,” she said. “Or at least, not the loudest. I managed to keep my dating life a secret for quite some time, didn’t I?”
“If only that silence had lasted forever,” Poppy said. “We all needed family counselling after that disclosure.”
Daisy raised a hand. “We’re going off topic, here. The point of this meeting was to share our safety concerns with Ivy.”
“Right,” Poppy said. “Short story: you need to get out of farming, Ivy. It’s bad for you, it’s bad for us.”
“How exactly is my hobby farm bad for you?” I turned on Poppy and she gave me a cheeky smile. She wasn’t afraid to get right up in your face, which made it easier to be direct. With the rest of the Galloway women, it was often a subtle dance.
Poppy flipped her gunmetal hair. “It’s called the butterfly effect. Something happens to you and it makes waves for all of us. Now we’re the family of someone with a big problem.”
“Ivy, I’m afraid Poppy’s right this time,” Mom said. “It’s one murder after another on that farm. It’s just not sustainable.”
I stared around at them, stunned. My fingertips and toes felt numb as blood rushed away to where it was needed more—my vital organs, and apparently my face, which grew hot. Keats shifted right onto my feet and whined. “It’s okay, buddy,” I said. My voice didn’t even sound like mine. It was a harsh croak.
“Ivy, don’t take this so hard,” Daisy said. Her hazel eyes, like mine only darker, filled with sympathy. “It’s just that we’re all so worried. You’ve been lucky before, but it feels like only a matter of time before…”
“The grim reaper catches up with me?” I asked. “Or one of you?”
Daisy’s gaze dropped to an invisible fleck on the counter and she started scrubbing. “Something like that. I have kids to worry about.”
Asher pushed himself off the fridge. “On the bright side, the actual death happened on Edna’s property. But we have to assume it was meant to happen on yours. And you’ve said someone’s been creeping around.”
“And darling, what about Kellan?” Mom asked, nearly sliding off the stool as she turned again. This time, Jilly didn’t help and Mom tilted like a boat taking on water. Any other day, it would have been amusing.
“What about him?” I said.
&
nbsp; “Well, you can’t expect the chief to commit to someone with so much baggage,” she said, clawing her way upright. “Men want easy-breezy women who make their lives easier, not harder. Worrying about your safety is a distraction from his job. The Chief of Police can’t afford distractions.”
Clenching my hands into fists, I felt the tingling recede. This wasn’t the first time I’d felt under attack. Not by a long shot. It was just the first time I felt like my entire family had turned against me at once. Jilly crowded a little closer and squeezed my left fist. I couldn’t count the times she’d infused me with courage in my corporate career, just as she did now. Thankfully, the old Ivy surfaced exactly when I needed her. Calm, confident and capable of diffusing conflict.
“I’m sorry you feel so anxious about what’s been happening at Runaway Farm, everyone.” My voice was strong. Keats got off my feet and Jilly’s hand rose to my sleeve, ready to shut me down with a sharp tug. “Now that I understand your point of view I’ll most certainly take that into consideration going forward. As you can imagine, I see things differently. I’ve committed to the farm and the animals in my charge. What’s more, I love the place and the job in a way I never could have imagined.” I scanned their faces in a cool, detached way as if they were members of a hostile audience. I’d faced plenty of those before. “But here’s the thing: I believe Keats, Jilly and I did good work for this community in helping to bring Lloyd Boyce’s killer to justice. We did it again when someone chose my farm to dispatch Wilf Darby. And now it looks like I’ve been innocently drawn into trouble over Edna Evans. Am I going to stand down from that trouble? Probably not. But I will take what you’ve said under serious advisement.”
Poppy raised her hands and gave a slow clap. “Woo. Nice speech, sis.”
I offered a stiff corporate smile, still so familiar and surprisingly comforting. “Now, if you don’t mind, Jilly and I have an inn to run.”
Asher tried to catch Jilly’s hand on the way out and she jerked it away. The gesture may have packed the biggest punch of all: my best friend was willing to forfeit her future happiness to support me. That wasn’t right, and I had some serious thinking to do about it. In the moment, however, it felt like gold.
Keats stayed in the back seat on the way home so that he could rest his head on my shoulder and mumble support into my ear. Jilly let him work his magic and when she felt a shift, spoke up. “Don’t take it so hard, Ivy. They’re just your childhood roommates, remember? Keats and I are your family now.”
It was exactly the right thing to say and I smiled in spite of myself. “I may not say this often enough, Jilly Blackwood, but I love you.”
She laughed. “Actually, you’ve never said that.”
“Well, I couldn’t maintain a killer reputation and be dropping L-bombs around like candy.” My phone buzzed in my bag at Jilly’s feet. “Can you get that? I worry about the Bridge Buddies adding to the pile of victims.”
She pulled out the phone and stared at it. “It’s a text from Cori Hogan. She wants to meet with you.”
“Uh-oh. That can’t be good.” Cori was part of a band of renegade dog rescuers in our neighboring town of Dorset Hills, who called themselves the Rescue Mafia. Hannah Pemberton had been a key part of their team, but after she left they avoided the farm because of the frequent police presence. Their strategies for protecting animals were always creative, and seldom legal. “I can’t very well say no.”
Jilly shook her head. “Better you than me.”
“I take back my L-bomb,” I said, as the phone buzzed again.
Checking the phone, she mumbled something under her breath before reading aloud, “Bring Jilly and Keats.”
Chapter Ten
Charlie wasn’t thrilled when I asked him to leave the barn to see to any hospitality needs of the Bridge Buddies. He’d known them all his life and had no problem at all saying he was terrified. But he agreed to go inside when he heard about my summons from Cori Hogan. Years ago, he’d been part of the Rescue Mafia, too. He still helped on occasion, despite “aging out,” as he put it.
I didn’t know how big the core rescue group actually was, but they had networks of supporters throughout all of hill country. Today, only four women had gathered around a huge bronze chow chow on the outskirts of Dorset Hills. Unlike the rest of the city’s many dog statues, the chow sat on its own, surrounded by bush at the base of an old trail that wasn’t maintained. That made it a good meeting place for the renegades.
I don’t know what I’d expected, but they looked like regular people. In fact, they were all attractive, even the tough dog trainer, Cori. She was petite and fit, with short glossy brown hair and dark eyes. Like her friends, she was dressed in black, as if ready to leap into action at a second’s notice. Unlike her friends, she wore black wool gloves with orange middle fingers. I suspected these were her trademark, and instantly admired her sense of humor.
I knew them by sight from the online TV show, The Princess and the Pig, which had chronicled Hannah Pemberton’s life at the farm. Cori and Bridget Linsmore, the leaders of the group, stepped forward and made the formal introductions. The other two women were Remi Malone, who was clutching a beagle, and Andrea MacDuff, a beauty with auburn hair.
“I’m sorry we haven’t been out to the farm since you took over,” Bridget said. She was tall and fair, the opposite of Cori, and an elegant, feathered black dog stuck close to her side. “We’ve been away a lot on Dog Town business, and now I’m doubling down to prepare for my Thanksgiving Rescue Pageant.”
I waved away her apology. “I completely understand, and really it’s for the best,” I said. “Things have been a little… unsettled since I arrived.”
“Murder can do that,” Cori said, grinning. “What kind of weird karma did you bring with you from Boston?”
Keats left my side and sat in front of Cori. With any other dog, I’d say he was fawning. He was certainly agog with admiration of the tiny trainer. She glanced down at him and nodded, signifying some sort of tacit understanding. It made me suspect I wasn’t the only one with a special conduit into the canine mind.
“No idea,” I said. “I lived a life devoid of drama until just before I left the city. Boring, even. Right, Jilly?”
My friend looked like a deer in the headlights surrounded by these rescue warriors, but she managed a nod. “Boring. Both of us.”
“Not anymore,” Cori said.
“It’s like I’m making up for lost time,” I said. “There’s never a dull moment now.”
“Yeah, about that… This whole murder-at-the-farm thing?” Cori raised her hands and spun them till the orange flares dizzied me slightly. “It’s just not sustainable, Ivy.”
They were the exact words my mother had uttered earlier, and it was highly unlikely they’d had prior communication. My fingers and toes tingled, just as they had at the family meeting, only much worse. I was comfortable ignoring or even defying my family, but not the Rescue Mafia. Their opinion I cared about. I had no doubt they’d taken a vote to endorse Hannah’s decision to put the farm in my hands. Now I feared I’d disappointed them all with what was just a streak of bad luck. At least, mostly. I wouldn’t deny making a bad decision or five along the way, too.
Remi stepped forward, cradling a sweet-looking beagle in her arms like a baby. She’d come across as incredibly kind on Hannah’s online show. The beagle, Leo, was supposedly one of the most loved dogs in all of Dorset Hills.
“What Cori is trying to say is that we’re worried about you, Ivy,” she said now.
“Worried about the animals, more like,” Cori said. “We heard Wilma was initially—and unfairly—fingered for the death of Edna Evans.”
I gasped. “How did you know?”
Cori waved a dismissive glove. “We know things. Edna Evans was a constant thorn in Hannah’s side and really won’t be missed.”
“Cori!” Remi and Andrea offered a joint, scandalized protest.
“I say what we all think,” Cori sai
d. “That’s my role. Anyway, I fully expect that Ivy’s chief of police boyfriend will find out in due course that Edna was poisoned.”
This time Jilly and I both gasped. “That’s not public knowledge,” I said.
Cori laughed. “Private knowledge is the only kind worth having. We stay connected.”
“Well, the investigation has barely begun but obviously Wilma’s name will be cleared.”
“Good,” Cori said. “She’s one mean sow, and she probably wouldn’t have thought twice about ending Edna, but we really don’t want more bad press for Runaway Farm. We all worked very hard to salvage it.”
I nodded. “I know. I’ve watched all the shows.”
Bridget raised her hand to silence Cori. “Then you probably understand that we mean well when we ask if you’d like to sell Runaway Farm, Ivy. Sometimes it seems like the place is cursed. So many things have gone wrong there, and long before your time, I might add. But recent events have come hard and fast and it must be overwhelming.”
“You could turn a very tidy profit and start an inn someplace safer,” Andrea said. “I’m in real estate, so I’d help. With Hannah’s blessing.”
“We’d rehome the animals, of course,” Cori said. “Making sure every last one of them was happy. Even Wilma.”
Jilly clutched my sleeve again and Keats left Cori’s side to sit by mine. That gave me the strength to ask, “Does Hannah want me to sell the farm? Are you saying she doesn’t trust me anymore?”
“No,” Remi said. Her voice was loud enough to startle Leo into sitting upright in her arms. “Hannah is worried about you, that’s all. She’s offered to hire a security detail but knows the police will take issue with that right now.”
“Why hasn’t she contacted me directly?” I asked.
“Because it broke her heart to leave that farm,” Remi said. “It’s painful for her to talk about, even to us. She wants you to live out the dream she had to forfeit for family.”
“Well, she could have said no to her dad,” Cori told Remi. “I would have.”
