A Streak of Bad Cluck (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 3)

by Ellen Riggs

In one corner sat a wheelbarrow, which I assumed Edna used to transport the goods to the cats. It couldn’t be that far. As fit as Edna was for 80, wheeling food and water around rough trails must have been challenging.

  “That’s one way to stay fit,” I said, filling the wheelbarrow now. “I’m going to need you to play hound again, okay?”

  His tail swished and soon he was leading me into the bush with his nose to the ground.

  “Slow down,” I called. “This thing is tippy.”

  It was probably only 20 minutes but it felt like forever to my aching arms when I hit the last knobby root, righted the wheelbarrow, and looked up to see a wide open space.

  “Huckleberry Marsh!” I recognized it instantly from my childhood. My brother had brought me down here a few times, decades ago. He and his friends spent many a day here and even a few nights in the clubhouse they built. I could see it now, across a good-sized pond. The rough-hewn building looked the worse for years of neglect, but the white skull and crossbones Asher had painted still showed faintly. The words “Keep Out” had faded away, but I was more than happy to do so. I never felt comfortable here, even with my brother.

  Many of the old trees had died, waterlogged by the expanding, murky pond. Thick green moss covered many of them and ivy dripped off their naked boughs. The pond itself still featured the unique criss-crossed logs the boys used to create a highway across the shallow portions of the marsh. My brother and his friends would be thrilled to hear the network had stood the test of time. I doubted anyone had been here for years, or Edna wouldn’t have chosen the site to host her feline friends.

  I noticed the first cat, a large shiny black one resembling a panther, flitting across the log highway. Keats gave a loud wuff and charged.

  That didn’t go well. He promptly slid off the log and ended up with his white feet in gloppy green swamp silt. Keats was not a fan of either water or muddy feet and he immediately slunk back to sit beside me.

  “I told you to be nice,” I said. “Now look what happened.”

  Suddenly cats were popping up everywhere, from behind trees and out from under logs. There were coats in every color and pattern imaginable. A large, fluffy, dark marmalade cat appeared on top of the stone wall of the fortress my brother and his buddies built one summer. Big Red had a confident look about him, as if he ran the place. Then the black panther jumped up beside him and a white cat joined them. She was delicate where the others were brawny but her coat was pristine. I couldn’t help but think about Annamae’s accusation that Edna had stolen her cat, Fleecy. I had the distinct impression that these cats were quite happy here, and they certainly looked healthy. No matter how they arrived, Edna had clearly been caring for them well.

  “What can I use to hold water?” I said. “I’m not going into that shack. It was creepy way back when and it’s even creepier now. Who knows what those boys left in there? It’s probably booby-trapped.”

  Keats lifted a muddy paw, shook it gingerly and then offered a point toward the stone wall. “Is that the feeding station?” I asked. “Okay. Makes sense.” I picked up a bag of food, hoisted it over my shoulder and said, “Kitties, I’m coming. Don’t be scared. I like cats, even if Keats doesn’t. We don’t agree on everything.”

  The real challenge was crossing a long mossy log to get there while wearing clunky work boots and balancing an awkwardly heavy bag. I was far from elegant at the best of times. Yet Edna must have managed a similar feat.

  More cats gathered on the wall as if to watch the show. I recognized an exceptionally gorgeous gray tabby with a bullseye on his side.

  “Hey, I know you,” I called as I picked my way over the log carefully. “You’d rather live in swampland than a nice warm barn? Winter’s coming, you know. You can still come home. Bring a couple of friends.” I took a few more steps. “Mind you, I’d expect y’all to work for your wages. Obviously Edna gives you a free ride.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief when I reached the other side and tossed the bag of food onto the ground. The air was dank and heavy with the smell of moss and rotting wood, but it wasn’t as noxious as Wilma’s pig pool. The thought made me shudder, and I looked up at the cats. “I’m sorry to tell you that Edna won’t be coming around anymore. Something terrible happened, but maybe you already know that.” The black cat jumped down, came over and stared up at me with big green eyes. “I’m going to take care of you now,” I said. He let out a sound that was half purr, half meow. “You’re welcome. It’s an honor, really.”

  Some of the other cats fled as I walked to the stone wall and peered over, but Big Red and Fleecy held their ground. On the other side of the barricade was a makeshift shelter made of cheap plywood that sheltered nearly two dozen large stainless steel mixing bowls. At least half of them were already filled, and there were several jugs of fresh water.

  “She left you well supplied,” I said. “No one’s gone hungry here.”

  I walked around the fortress, collected the empty bowls and walked back. With difficulty, I tore open the big bag of food and poured kibble into bowl after bowl. Then I replaced them and carried the jugs of water around. Since they weren’t all needed, I lined them up against the wall.

  “I assume you’re sharing your bounty with the local wildlife,” I said. “So I thank you for keeping them away from my livestock.”

  I looked up when I heard a keening wail. Keats was sitting at the other end of the log bridge, wanting to come over but too scared. This dog didn’t hesitate to attack a murderous human but he was afraid of swamp water.

  “I’ll be right back, buddy. Almost done here.”

  I’d assumed that the cats would be too wild to let me touch them, but the panther and Fleecy rubbed up against me from the top of the wall. Big Red held back, blinking with yellowy eyes. I got the same odd feeling as when Keats gave me a stare with his blue eye. It was as if Red could see into my soul.

  “I hope you like what you see, Red, because I’ll be back.” I shook my head. “As if I don’t have my hands full already. But winter’s coming and it’ll be easier to get around out here when it freezes.”

  Keats gave another whine, louder this time. Rolling up the empty food bag, I tucked it into my overalls and turned to go. It would be nice to have my arms free to balance on the way back.

  I was about halfway across when Keats finally summoned the nerve to join me. “No, Keats, go back. I’m almost there.”

  He continued toward me, growling.

  I don’t know how Big Red got around me, but he pulled off the athletic feat and charged at Keats. There was a collision of sound—barking, hissing and an unearthly yowl that might have come from either one of them. A dozen or so other cats circled me, too, and my arms pinwheeled.

  It was no use. I slid off the log at the same time as Keats, and we landed with twin splashes. The water wasn’t deep but the bottom was so silty that I floundered and thrashed as I tried to gain purchase, and then went under briefly.

  Surfacing, I let out a yowl not dissimilar to the one the critters had unleashed moments before. “My hair!”

  Thrashing through the water, I got out on the far side of the pond, where Keats was already shaking himself and coughing dramatically.

  “This is all your fault,” I said, stomping ahead of him to the trail. “You had to go and growl at them, didn’t you? I can never have nice things.”

  I fumed all the way back, pushing the empty wheelbarrow. Long before we reached Edna’s yard, however, Keats’ tail was high and waving. The dirt seemed to be drying and falling away from his white plume, and even his paws.

  The same couldn’t be said for my hair “don’t.” Twisting it up, I secured it with the tie from my sodden front pocket. “I’ll have some explaining to do to my guests, I’m afraid.”

  I stalled the truck once on Edna’s lane, but that was only because three cats that looked very much like Panther, Fleecy and Big Red—the senior cat counsel—ran across the road.

  “Whatever,” I yelled. I’d
rolled all the windows down to release the mossy stink. “Have the last laugh, ingrates!”

  Keats mumbled something that was quite likely canine profanity. Then he went back to licking his paws and ignored me completely.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was nice to be able to call Kellan with some leads I’d gained without sacrificing anything more than a few inches of hair. He didn’t seem to find it strange that I’d pamper myself in a salon at a busy and stressful time. Perhaps he thought even down-to-earth women like me worked in mysterious ways.

  Since the discussion went so well, I didn’t bother to mention that it was Keats’ idea to go into Crowning Glory. The dog got plenty of credit and was getting a bit cocky as it was. I was almost glad he got a dunk in the swamp to remind him he was fallible.

  Kellan decided to come back to the farm that afternoon to interview the Bridge Buddies all over again and see if he could stir up some old grudges, without implicating Robbi or having access to medical files to prove anything. I really wanted to have those conversations myself, but Kellan was trained at interrogation and far preferred it when I kept my nose out of it.

  His presence at the inn meant Jilly and I could drive into town to pick up a few things. We were already standing beside Buttercup when he pulled up in the police SUV.

  “Wow,” he said, as he got out. “Did you do something to your hair?”

  “Yeah.” I felt a flush start in my midriff and head north as Jilly turned to offer a sly smirk. “It’s been through some trauma lately.”

  “Looks nice to me,” he said, smiling. “Traumatized hair suits you.”

  Jilly continued to smirk and I continued to blush as Kellan made his way up to the house. The second the door closed behind him, I gestured to the truck and we abandoned Buttercup. Both of us giggled like guilty teens as we bunny-hopped down the lane. Even Keats preferred the belligerent pickup, as it gave him a higher vantage point to monitor the world.

  Our first stop in town was the Berry Good Café, where Jilly revised my catering order. Apparently my taste was about as upscale as my overalls and she still cared to give our guests a positive culinary experience. The Bridge Buddies barely seemed to notice what they were eating and probably would have been just as happy with a meal replacement drink so they could play on.

  When Jilly was finished with her errands, I suggested a stroll through town. It was a fresh, sunny day and the break did us a world of good… especially because I didn’t trouble her by mentioning that we had a couple more stops.

  “Do you want to grab an ice cream?” I asked, stopping outside Triple Threat, a café, grocery store and ice cream parlor all in one.

  “Not really. It’s a little cool for ice cream, isn’t it?”

  “It’s never too cool for ice cream,” I said. “It might be our last chance at a triple cone till spring.”

  “I ordered a chocolate mousse cake for dinner. I’ll hold out for that.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said, looping Keats’ leash around the railing. “I’m going in.”

  Ted Tupper, the bald and brawny proprietor, served me himself. I would rather have done the questioning before I had the triple cone in my hand, but sometimes a sleuth has to roll with the scoops. And they were very generous scoops. It was like he wanted to use up the ice cream for the season.

  “That’s a mix I haven’t seen before,” Ted said, packing another half-scoop on the already massive pile. “You might regret that later.”

  I regretted it already, because it started to drip the second he handed it to me. It might have been cool outside but apparently Ted liked to keep it tropical inside to keep selling cones.

  It was all I could do to get the cash out of my front pocket before ice cream coated the back of my hand.

  Glancing out the window, I raised the cone at Jilly and grinned. She just rolled her eyes and said something to Keats, likely unflattering.

  Making a show of looking at his name tag, I said, “Ted, I’m Ivy Galloway, and I run an inn at Runaway Farm. I might be looking at a bit of catering this week.”

  “Hey, Ivy. I heard your kitchen is down after what happened to Edna Evans. Can’t say I’m sorry to see the last of her, though. She came in every week for a child-sized vanilla cone. I think she just enjoyed riling me.”

  I tried to lick the cone while mopping up my hand with napkins at the same time. “You two have a falling-out?”

  He gave me a strange look. “I guess you didn’t keep up on local news when you were away.”

  “I wanted to put some distance between Clover Grove and me back then,” I said. “I’ve only been home a couple of months so I’m still way behind.”

  “Well, I had Edna Evans fired,” he said. Beckoning, he came around the end of the counter and led me to the small seating area. “Let me tell you the story.”

  I was grateful for the opportunity to sit down and let the table catch the drips rather than the front of my overalls. “You mean as school nurse?” I asked. “She was pretty brutal with those vaccinations.”

  “Sadistic, more like. The faster you ran, the harder she got you.” He shook his head. “Man, she could move in those days.”

  “My brother said the same thing. Once he hid under a stage for eight hours but eventually she dragged him down the hall by his feet. She was like a pro wrestler.”

  Ted grabbed some napkins from my pile and patted his forehead, which was beading with sweat at the memory.

  He looked up as Jilly joined us and I introduced her quickly. “Ted’s just telling me about his experiences with Edna as school nurse.”

  “Ah,” she said. “Carry on. But slide over so I can keep my eye on Keats.”

  I gave her a grateful smile and tried to hand her the cone, which she declined. Friendship only went so far.

  “I had this recurring nightmare about Edna chasing me through the school’s back field,” Ted said, taking more of the napkins I needed. “That actually happened, so I guess it was PTSD. Finally I decided to do something about it and see if I could end the dreams.”

  “And what did you do?” I chased dribbles up my wrist with my tongue, since my napkins were gone. Shaking her head, Jilly got up to collect a fresh pile from the counter.

  “First I contacted the school board but they wouldn’t take action, even though she was still traumatizing kids, twenty years later. Then I tried Doc Grainer, and he didn’t want to hear it, either. So finally I started a petition. Hundreds and hundreds of people signed it, including your brother and all your sisters. Thanks to the Internet, the whole thing snowballed and hit the media, and then the school board had no choice but to sit up and take notice.”

  I wrapped a thick wad of napkins around the cone. “That’s when they fired her?”

  “I wish. Instead they retired her early on a reduced pension. Doc Grainer never let her go, but at least I’d done something.”

  “I’m sure she took it pretty hard,” I said, barely staying ahead of the melting confection.

  “Not hard enough.” It seemed like his entire bald head creased in a frown. “She seemed to be living the good life, with her nice little house and her bridge games, showing up here for her kiddie cone. Meanwhile the rest of us suffered.”

  “The nightmares didn’t stop?” I asked.

  “Trailed off over the years, and maybe they’ll end now as I think about her in that swamp.” He stared at me with hungry eyes. “You saw her, right?”

  “I did, Ted. And as much as you have nightmares, I’ll have some about that.” I gave up and set the cone down on the remaining napkins. “Trust me, you don’t want that image running through your mind.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” Raising his hand, he called, “Linda, can you join us?”

  A short, plump redhead came out from behind the counter. “What’s going on, Ted?”

  Ted introduced Jilly and me. “Honey, Ivy wants to hear about what happened with Edna. Ladies, my wife Linda is the happy ending to my story.”

&
nbsp; Linda took the seat beside him. “It wasn’t the happiest beginning, but it has worked out rather nicely for us both.”

  “Edna basically forced Linda’s deli out of business by spreading malicious gossip about food poisoning,” Ted said.

  “The county’s public health rep had the crab salad tested—and everything else in the place—and there was no salmonella,” Linda said. “But by then the rumor mill was working overtime. There was no convincing people my deli was safe, and business shut off like a faucet. I had no choice but to close. You can’t make a living in this town with a bad reputation, even if it’s false.”

  I glanced at Jilly and we both nodded. “I have reason to worry about that myself,” I said. “That’s why I’m so curious about what happened to Edna.”

  “Someone finally caught up with her,” Linda said, with a huge smile that seemed to show every tooth. “I can’t say I’m sorry it was poison. I think they call that divine justice.”

  “Good riddance to bad garbage,” Ted said. He gathered the big pile of napkins along with my cone and got up to dump them in the trash. “But out of the worst compost, beautiful things may grow.”

  Linda’s smile resized to normal. “Ted has such a way with words. I came to him for advice on dealing with Edna’s slander, and while it was too late for my deli, the timing was just right for us. Now we run Triple Threat together and couldn’t be happier.”

  “What a unique how-we-met story,” Jilly said, beaming at them like the true romantic she was. “Something to tell your grandkids one day.”

  “That’s right,” Ted said, touching his wife’s shoulder gently. “I’m grateful for how things worked out in the end. But I’m also grateful someone ended Edna. I wish I could offer them free cones for life.”

  “Oh, Ted,” Linda said. “A murder in our community is never good news, and it’s causing trouble for Ivy.”

  “I’m sure the inn will be fine,” Jilly said, getting up from the table. “As you say, Linda, sometimes you have to trust in divine justice.”

  “Would you like to meet my dog?” I asked. “Keats loves people and I’d hate to disappoint him.”