The Rocky Road to Ruin

by Meri Allen

  Flo and I talked about Angelica on the drive back from the airport.

  “Everyone’s saying she can buy her way off with all the money she has,” Flo said as she gunned onto the highway and cut off a semi. “Everyone’s saying she killed Mike in a fit of passion, but I don’t buy it. She was a good girl. I could tell.” Flo drove like a bat out of hell, but seemed a good judge of character.

  I gripped my seat belt. “She liked you too.”

  “Some people have good hearts, even if they don’t look that way on the outside.”

  I remembered the customer Flo called Stretch, the contradiction between his ragged clothes and manicured hands, his expensive watch and dirty cap, and the way people stood clear of him. “That guy, Stretch. What do you know about him?”

  “Boy, does he love ice cream. I call him the cone-noisseur.” She chuckled. “He’s been coming in since just before Buzzy passed. He never talks about himself, but he talks about ice cream in detail, always asking us about things like fat content and flavorings.”

  “Has he mentioned where he lives?” I squeezed my eyes shut as Flo took the exit ramp at double the speed limit.

  She shook her head. “It’s been too busy in the shop to have a real conversation.”

  I wondered where Stretch was now.

  Chapter 22

  Flo parked next to Mike’s car at the Love Nest. Yellow police tape sagged across the doors of the Nest and the barn.

  “Are you okay going in there, Riley?” Flo said softly.

  “I think so.” We got out of the car and walked to the far end of the barn. I swung open the doors (unlocked, of course) revealing Sadie, Buzzy’s 1970s era VW station wagon. I took stock. The orange paint was faded and rust spotted the finish, though the tires looked new.

  Flo jutted her chin toward the other end of the barn. “That’s where you found Mike?”

  “By the hay bales in the stall by the door,” I said.

  Flo skirted Buzzy’s car, walked through the darkened barn and into a shaft of light streaming in through the stall window. She folded her hands and bowed her head. I hesitated, then joined her. After a few moments, Flo looked up, her eyebrows knitted together. “Who do you think killed Mike?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to go into my suspicions. “I don’t know.”

  “We all know the police talked to Darwin.” Flo turned and we edged past Buzzy’s car out of the barn. “But almost everyone who lives on Farm Lane was against Mike’s development plan. Me, Dandy, Gerri, the Brightwoods, all the kids on the farm. Aaron the Hermit, who knows? Construction would destroy the views. Nobody wants all these new houses popping up.” She gave me a rueful smile. “I know, what do they say? First-world problems.”

  I had a momentary vision of all the neighbors trapping Mike in the barn. Would any of them kill Mike to stop the development?

  “Well, Mike’s murder won’t stop people from wanting to develop this land.” I remembered what Kyle and Emily said at the Preserve Penniman meeting. With Mike gone, so was any pressure he’d put on Caroline to sell. It was all Caroline’s property now. No wonder Emily wanted to represent her.

  “I remember talking to Buzzy about the land trust…” Flo’s voice faded.

  Emily. She’d dated Mike. Mike used to meet high school girlfriends in the barn. “The usual place,” I whispered.

  “Did you say something, Riley?” Flo said.

  Could Emily have done it? She’d been upset seeing Mike with Angelica. Was she jealous and upset enough to kill him?

  I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”

  “It’s okay, honey. We’ll talk later.” Flo patted my arm then got in her car and drove off.

  The cops had to talk to Emily Weinberg. Was she even one of their suspects?

  Sadie’s door opened with a creak of complaint. I eased into the sagging driver’s seat and turned with dismay to look in the back. The backseat, the passenger seat, it was all full of stuff.

  Sheesh. Buzzy had definite hoarder tendencies. The back seat was piled with cardboard boxes. On the passenger seat was a stack of books with Penniman Library stickers on their spines, many cozy mysteries with cats on the cover. I made a mental note to return them.

  The arm of a handknit white cardigan sweater trailed from under the books. Carefully, I pulled it out. Buzzy had knit many sweaters, always with pockets. I held the soft fabric to my cheek then folded it on top of the books.

  I turned the key, wondering if the car would even start. The engine coughed a few times but sprang to life. I heaved a sigh of relief as I pulled out and stopped. As I jumped out to shut the barn doors behind me, dust motes danced in the beam of sunlight streaming into the stall.

  * * *

  I was dying to talk to Emily Weinberg, but I had to make ice cream. How did the amateur sleuths in the mysteries Buzzy read always have time to investigate and interview suspects? Listen to me—as if I were the investigator. I’d call Detective Voelker and tell him about Emily. Sleuthing was his job, not mine.

  Still, with my background, I loved nothing more than digging to find the answers to tough questions. My librarian instincts were piqued. This was the toughest question I’d ever encountered. It mattered. Someone had killed my friend’s brother and was still out there. The police were focusing on Angelica and Darwin, but I just couldn’t buy it.

  Listen to yourself, Riley. Just because you like someone, doesn’t mean they’re innocent.

  I’d learned that the hard way in Rome with Paolo.

  I drove down the lane and parked Buzzy’s car by the kitchen door. The clothesline fluttered with laundry and I recognized my Washington Capitals shirt and another I’d bought in Italy.

  Inside on the kitchen table was a note from Caroline that said “I caught Rocky peeing on your pj’s so I threw everything in the wash.”

  Rocky slunk in and blinked at me. “Thanks a lot, Rocky.” I picked him up for a quick nuzzle but he was not having it. He went boneless and slipped from my arms. He leapt onto the table by the window and swished his tail, glancing back at me expectantly.

  How well cats communicate without words. I stood behind him looking out over the farm. It had been his playground, his home, and now he was indoors, his metaphorical wings clipped. I’d have to let him out to explore, but my heart twisted every time I saw the scar on his back, his bent little ear. It was a big, bad world. Rocky was a survivor, but I wasn’t ready to let him out just yet.

  Sprinkles sat by the powder-room door, flicking her tail. I sighed and flushed for her, hoping she wouldn’t teach Rocky that trick.

  I ran upstairs and picked up Detective Voelker’s business card. A jolt of adrenaline made my hand shake as I dialed. Why was I so nervous? Because you’re a secretive woman who doesn’t want anyone prying into your life.

  It was almost six o’clock. Would he still be at work?

  “Penniman Police.”

  I recognized Tillie O’Malley’s voice.

  “I’d like to speak to Detective Voelker, please.”

  “He’s in a meeting,” Tillie replied.

  I almost lost my nerve. I knew how law enforcement felt about amateurs sticking their noses into investigations. “Hi, Tillie. This is Riley Rhodes at Fairweather Farm. I’d like to speak to him when he has a moment.”

  “About?” She drew out the vowels. She knew what it was about.

  “Mike Spooner’s”—the next word stuck in my throat—“death.”

  “What would you like to report?” she whispered. “May I take a detailed message?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Tillie, you know this stuff is confidential. I’ll tell Detective Voelker.”

  “Fine.” She took my name and number, then hung up abruptly.

  I hurried downstairs and out the front door. Cars jockeyed into the parking lot as I ran to Udderly.

  The Gravers stepped out the back door as I entered.

  “Hot date?” I said.

  Flo laughed. “I wish.”

&
nbsp; Gerri said, “Tonight we’re teaching a class on genealogy at the Historical Society.”

  “Have fun, ladies.” I went inside and checked the work schedule. Caroline, Brandon, Pru, and I were on tonight. Four people. Thank goodness.

  Caroline ran into the kitchen. “I just saw Pru. She had to leave. She has a baby coming.”

  Three people would have to do.

  A horn blared from the parking lot as customers jammed into the shop. “How about calling in some interns from the farm so we can make ice cream?” I asked. Now that the chiller was fixed, I didn’t want it sitting idle.

  Caroline shook her head. “Darwin, Pru, and all the interns are being honored tonight at Town Hall. The farm won the Penniman Prize for fostering relationships in the international farming community. Pru’s going to miss it unless that baby hurries up.”

  We were slammed with customers, and a few grumbled when they learned their favorite flavor had run out, but everyone eventually left happy. Who wouldn’t be happy with a three-scoop maple walnut sundae drizzled with the shop’s special warm salted-caramel sauce and covered in fresh whipped cream and a sprinkling of finely chopped walnuts? Or a crisp waffle cone stuffed with mint chocolate chip ice cream full of chunks of bittersweet chocolate? After Brandon went home at closing, slurping a cone stuffed with six different flavors he called The Game of Cones, Caroline and I kept working, cooking different ice cream and sorbet mixtures, the scent of lemon, lavender, caramel, and cinnamon filling the shop kitchen. I told her everything about my conversation with Angelica.

  “I like her,” was all she said.

  At two a.m., Caroline and I headed back to the house.

  Neither of us had the energy to eat. I went up to my bedroom, tossed my phone on the bedside table, and reached for the oversized Washington Capitals shirt I wore to bed. Darn! It was hanging on the line with the other laundry. I flopped onto the bed, too tired to go down and get it.

  Rocky followed me into the bedroom and sniffed where the pile of laundry had been. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “No!” I leapt from bed, picked him up, and ran for the litter box.

  Chapter 23

  The next morning, I woke to a tickling under my nose. As I pried my eyes open, Rocky’s tail whipped across my face.

  “Good morning to you too.” I sat up and looked at my phone. Dead. I’d forgotten to charge it. As I plugged it in, the time flashed: 9:00.

  “Time to make the ice cream,” I groaned. Rocky looked out the window with the unnerving focus that cats have, then he turned back to me with a little yowl. His meaning was clear. Get up, lazy human. I have important things to do.

  “Five more minutes, you beast.” With a groan, I rolled over and closed my eyes.

  Thud. Crash.

  I sat up. Rocky had climbed onto the bookcase. He sat very still, held my eye, reached out a paw, and knocked another photo off the shelf.

  “Rocky!”

  Undeterred, he slid onto the bureau and knocked my hairbrush onto the photos. I scrambled as he started to nuzzle a lamp.

  “All right, I’m up.” I grabbed him and set him on the floor. He sauntered away from me with a dismissive swish of his tail. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sprinkles.”

  Caroline stuck her head in the door. “What’s all the noise?”

  “Rocky decided it was time for me to get up.” I looked for something to wear, then realized most of my things were on the clothesline. “Thank you for doing laundry.”

  She nodded. “That naughty little beast was busy yesterday.” She scooped Rocky up and nuzzled him. “Weren’t you, cutie pie?”

  Rocky looked back at me as if to say, Look what you’re missing! If you were quicker to obey, you’d get to nuzzle me. Sprinkles came in and wove around Caroline’s ankles with a purr.

  “I’ll start breakfast,” Caroline said, and they all headed downstairs.

  Chopped liver. That was me.

  I picked up my brush and ran it through my hair a few times then stacked the photos back on the shelf, stopping at one of Mike and Kyle sitting in a Mustang, Kyle holding up keys, squinting in the sun. I sighed, still envious. I remembered that car, Kyle’s eighteenth-birthday present. It helped to have an uncle who owned a car dealership. I ran downstairs where Caroline was breaking eggs into a bowl.

  “I’m going to pull in the clothes.” Tucking the basket on my hip, feeling like a real farm wife, I went out to the clothesline and looked out at the waving fields of sunflowers. Already people were moving through the fields taking photos, enjoying the relative cool of the morning air.

  I folded a pink top and placed it in the basket. The color made me think of Emily Weinberg. Meet me at midnight. The usual place.

  Had Emily left that note? Had she gone to the barn to meet Mike? That would be pretty nervy, with his girlfriend right there, but they’d exchanged business cards, had each other’s numbers. Emily could’ve slipped in; Mike and Angelica left the Love Nest twice that night, once to help in the shop, once when we gathered in Buzzy’s kitchen. But why a note? Maybe Emily’d worried Angelica would see a message on Mike’s phone.

  A black police SUV pulled up in front of the house and Detective Voelker got out carrying a small paper bag. Tillie must’ve given him my message. I hadn’t been entirely sure she would—from what I’d seen, the words “Tillie” and “professional” didn’t belong in the same sentence.

  I picked up the basket and went to meet him. I wasn’t at my best—no shower, still in yesterday’s clothes, and no breakfast. My hand flew to my hair. At least I’d brushed it.

  “Good morning, Detective.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Rhodes. I’ve been trying to return your call.”

  “I’m sorry, my phone battery died. I was so busy making ice cream yesterday I forgot to charge it.” I went up the steps. “Please come in.”

  Caroline stood at the screen door, smoothing her hair. “Good morning.” As she opened the door, Rocky shot out.

  “Rocky, no!” I yelled.

  Sprinkles stood at the open doorway and gave a plaintive yowl but Rocky streaked across the road and disappeared into the field of sunflowers.

  “Oh, no! I should’ve known he’d try to get out,” Caroline moaned. “I’m so sorry!”

  “They always come back at dinnertime.” Voelker said.

  My heart fell as Rocky disappeared. “I hope so.”

  Voelker took off his sunglasses and smiled at Caroline, his expression and voice gentle. “How are you doing, Miss Spooner?”

  “Fine, thanks,” she said. “Please call me Caroline.”

  Is this a social call? Who was he here to see? Me or Caroline?

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” he said. “I need to talk to Ms. Rhodes.”

  “Call me Riley,” I said, but I was sure he wouldn’t. Caroline got the smile and the charm. “Caroline can hear anything I say.”

  Sprinkles didn’t move, so we all edged around her. Her head swiveled between Voelker and the porch, where her buddy had just escaped. I almost felt sorry for her. I could imagine her thoughts. Ingrate! How could you leave after all I’ve done for you?

  Leaving Sprinkles pining at the door, Voelker and I sat at the kitchen table while Caroline took mugs from the cabinet. There was a steaming pan of scrambled eggs and toast on the counter.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” he said.

  Would Rocky come back? I’d lost my appetite. “They’ll keep.”

  “Coffee?” Caroline said as she covered the eggs. I shook my head, too anxious to drink anything.

  “Thank you.” Detective Voelker accepted a cup and took out a notepad as Caroline slid into a seat next to me. “Ms. Rhodes, you called.”

  “Yes—”

  Caroline jumped in. “We’ve been busy, making ice cream, well, not making ice cream until yesterday. We’ll have our special sunflower ice cream for the festival.”

  “Sunflower? I’ll have to try it,” he said.
r />   Can I get a word in? “I’ve heard that an anonymous source told you Darwin Brightwood had been seen near the—” I almost said crime scene—“barn. I think I know who that person is.”

  “We can’t divulge the identity of our sources, Ms. Rhodes,” Voelker said.

  I leaned forward. “So you know who it is?”

  Voelker rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I, we—”

  “Emily Weinberg,” I said. “She was at the funeral and she and Mike were flirting. Maybe she was mad that Mike was seeing Angelica. Emily dated Mike in high school, right, Caroline?”

  Caroline nodded.

  “Do you think she carried a torch for, how long would you say it was that Mike and she graduated from high school, fifteen, twenty years?” He sipped his coffee and for the first time he looked at me with something other than his professional stone face. Was he trying to hide a smile?

  “She has a small car,” I persisted. “A Mini. Darwin said a small car passed him that night.”

  Voelker set down his mug. I could read his thoughts. A lot of people have small cars.

  “This is serious,” I said. “You have to question her.”

  “We’ll look at everyone connected to the crime.” He hesitated but then wrote Emily’s name in his notebook. Good. He looked at Caroline. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Caroline lowered her eyes and nodded. I wondered what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there. There was so much chemistry sparking between these two I could practically feel the heat.

  He cleared his throat. “We’ll also have autopsy results as soon as possible and then we’ll be able to release the body.” Maybe not so romantic, Voelker. “Was there anything else, Ms. Rhodes?”

  I shook my head. He flipped his notepad closed and set the bag on the table. “These are a few of your brother’s effects.”

  Quiet settled on the kitchen. I craned to look inside the bag as Caroline opened it, and saw a ring, a cell phone, and car keys.