by Meri Allen
So many people asked me about the petting zoo that I found some poster board and markers in Buzzy’s office and made a sign to post on the pen outside: “Saturday 2–4 Lady Mirabelle and Bob, The Miniature”—I stopped myself from writing “ponies”—“Horses. Sunday 12–5: Baby Goats.” I went outside and taped the sign to the pen.
Flo joined me. “Dandy told me about the knife guy.”
Great, now he was “the knife guy.” “Don’t say that around Caroline. She’s talking about him being a serial killer.”
“Probably just someone who wants to enjoy the night air.” Flo always looked on the bright side.
“Did you see or hear anything unusual last night?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I was watching my shows. I wish I had.”
Later, as I mixed another batch of ice cream, I flipped on the TV on the counter. I grimaced when I recognized Tom Snow in front of the Farrow Center.
I wondered if Angelica had any news. She should’ve been questioned by now. How I longed to know what was happening in the investigation. I checked the schedule. Flo and Gerri were here with Brandon and Caroline. The Farrow Center was only fifteen minutes away.
I pulled off my apron.
Caroline came into the kitchen carrying an empty tub. “What are you doing?”
“Going to speak to Angelica.”
She set the tub in the sink. “I’m coming with you.”
Chapter 27
There were now two security guards at the entrance to the Farrow Center. A TV reporter was doing a standup at the drive as Sadie chugged past. I expected the media would be here, which was why I’d instructed Caroline to wear a hat and sunglasses. Reporters would be swarming the facility, looking for any angle. I didn’t want them to see the sister of the man Angelica may or may not have killed coming to visit. Of course, if the reporters were savvy they’d trace my (Buzzy’s, actually) plates. That’s why I’d smeared mud on them while waiting for Caroline to get her sunglasses. I might not work for the CIA anymore, but I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.
I’d borrowed one of Buzzy’s Red Sox caps. I lowered my sunglasses to speak to the guard. “We’d like to see Miss Miguel, please.”
The media swarm had thinned the woman’s patience. “Sorry. No one’s allowed to see her.”
“I’m a friend,” I said. “Please call Jay, her assistant.”
Caroline took off her sunglasses and leaned toward my window. “Hi!”
The guard leaned toward the car, then smiled. “Oh hi. Caroline, right, from Udderly Delightful?”
“Yes, hi! I recognized you. My friend Riley here’s the one who found Angelica and saved her life.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the connection to the ice cream shop or my role in Angelica’s rescue, but the woman made a call and waved us through.
“Ice cream saves the day,” I said.
Another security guard waved me into a parking place and accompanied us to Angelica’s cottage. “I’ve seen prisons with less security.” I could imagine the security teams patrolling the woods and heard a far-off buzz that I thought might be a drone.
Jay opened the door, smiled, but cast a quick look behind us. “Nice to see you. Come in.”
The room was dark, the blinds closed. Our visit had taken Angelica by surprise. Her hair was matted, braided and tossed over one shoulder, and she wore a robe over wrinkled pajamas. She was still in a wheelchair, leg in a cast. Her bruises had yellowed and lightened, but still I felt a jolt of horror at what she’d been through.
Caroline gasped but quickly recovered, extending a quart of rocky road ice cream.
“Caroline! How are you?” Angelica took the ice cream. “Thanks. I needed a bright spot. Jay, please put this in the freezer.” He took it into the kitchenette.
Angelica waved to seats. “I know I look like I’ve gone three or four rounds with the heavyweight champion of the world. And I can’t go outside looking like this—well I can’t until they get a makeup artist out here. I can’t even go on the patio. I don’t want pics of me—like this—out there.”
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Stronger. But rehab’s hard work.”
I couldn’t help blurting out, “Have you spoken to the police?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. The police are building a case against me. They kept asking if Mike and I fought. Then they asked if, I’m sorry, Caroline”—she lowered her eyes—“Mike had ever struck me.”
The words hit like a blow, and Caroline recoiled, her hand pressing her chest.
A horrible thought crept into my mind. The bruises were on the left side of Angelica’s face. I thought back to Mike throwing a football, something I’d seen him do a thousand times. Mike had been right-handed.
I shook my head, again seeing Mike’s face in the barn. He’d had no scratches or bruises, not on his face or his hands. If struck, this athletic, strong, passionate woman would’ve fought back, I was sure. “Your car crashed and fell onto its left side, the driver’s side. That would account for the bruising.”
Tears coursed down Caroline’s cheeks. No matter what, this was hard for her to hear.
Angelica’s eyes welled as she pressed Caroline’s hand. “I’m sorry, Caroline, to say things like this in front of you. Of course, Mike never struck me.”
Caroline sniffed. “It’s okay. I want to know everything.”
“One thing they kept asking: Did I take sleeping pills. I don’t, never have. Did Mike?”
Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know about now, but when he lived at home he always said he slept like a log.”
My mind jumped from question to question as I followed this thread. Mike had no defensive wounds. Angelica said she’d had a headache after drinking the wine. Had the killer slipped sleeping pills into the wine bottle?
Caroline and Angelica talked, their voices blurring as I remembered what I’d seen at the Love Nest. I suddenly realized what had bothered me about the wine bottle. I’d seen the trash. I’d seen the bottle and the glasses.
But there’d been no cork.
Mike hadn’t opened that bottle of wine. It had been waiting for them.
But who left it?
I pulled myself back to the conversation.
“Angelica, did you see Mike open the wine?”
She shook her head. “I remember him saying how nice it was that Caroline left wine for us and left it open to breathe.”
Caroline blanched. “But I didn’t leave any wine.”
My heart dropped. “Did you tell the police that?”
“Yes,” Angelica whispered. Her horrified expression told me that she’d come to the same realization I had. The police would think that Caroline had left the wine.
And her scarf in the barn.… I winced. We’d have another visit from Detective Voelker, but it wouldn’t be a friendly one.
Chapter 28
Neither Caroline nor I spoke on the drive back to Udderly. I barely saw the road in front of me and had to snap myself to attention when I pulled into Farm Lane, which was jammed with people and cars. I pulled up to the house.
Caroline said, “Riley, what do they say in old movies? I feel the net tightening around me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Caroline,” I said, but the words died in my throat. A Penniman police SUV pulled in behind us. Voelker got out and walked up to the passenger window, his eyes hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses. “Miss Spooner, will you please come with me?” he said. Now she was “Miss Spooner.”
“I’m coming too,” I said, scrambling from the car.
“Not necessary, Ms. Rhodes.”
“Detective Voelker”—Caroline’s voice was barely a whisper as she got out—“do I need a lawyer? Are you arresting me?”
“No, I’m not arresting you,” he said, more gently, as he shut her door. “But you may wish to have a lawyer present while you’re questioned.”
Caroline looked to me in a panic. “Riley, I don’t have a lawyer.�
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“I’ll ask Dad.” I knew what she was thinking. Kyle was Mike’s friend, but there was no way she’d trust him after learning about his duplicity in the real estate deal.
I felt numb watching Voelker take Caroline away. Heads turned as the police SUV inched through the crowds. Pru ran up to me and put her strong hands on my shoulders. “What happened?”
I told her what Angelica had told the police. “Pru, Caroline needs a lawyer.”
“Wasn’t Kyle Aldridge just here?” Pru said.
“She wants someone else.”
Pru’s eyebrows knitted together, then she pulled her phone from her pocket. “I know someone. I delivered her twins. She and her husband are lawyers. I’ll call and see if one of them can help Caroline.”
The focus of the police investigation had shifted to Caroline. Voelker’s being thorough, I thought. You expected this, didn’t you?
Pru squeezed my arm. “Riley, you’re pale. Let’s get you something to eat and drink. The shop will be fine.” She dragged me up the steps of Buzzy’s house. I fished in my bag for the key, unlocked the door, and we went into the kitchen. Pru placed some calls as I paced, Rocky at my heels.
“I texted Caroline and told her to expect my friend.” Pru brewed tea and gave me some cheese and crackers from the refrigerator as I picked up Rocky and nuzzled him against my chest, glad he allowed me this comfort. Sprinkles sat at the window, surveying the crowd, resigned to the invasion of her kingdom. She always gave Pru space—one queen recognizing another.
I spilled everything that had been happening and Pru’s eyes grew wide as she listened. “So Angelica’s innocent and was the victim of the same person who put the sleeping pills in the wine?” Pru asked. “Did Caroline take sleeping pills?”
“No. Wait. She told me she took one the night of the funeral.” I remembered seeing a bottle in the house. “Buzzy took them.” I dashed upstairs, grabbed the bottle from Buzzy’s nightstand, and brought it downstairs.
I poured its contents into a dish. “The bottle says twenty pills but there are only ten.”
Pru checked the label. “These expired a year ago!”
“I know that and you know that, but everything makes Caroline look guilty.”
I paced the dull linoleum floor, Rocky pouncing at my heels thinking my pacing was a game. Caroline’s fight with Mike. The wine. The pills. Her—I stopped. I wouldn’t mention the scarf to Pru. Why, when I was certain Mike must’ve picked it up accidentally when he left the kitchen that night?
I remembered the oil painting Caroline had worked on. “Pru, Caroline started a landscape before the funeral. The next day it was almost finished. She couldn’t have done that much if she’d been up at the Love Nest.” Some alibi. Voelker would never buy it, but I knew my friend was a slow and deliberate painter.
My biggest worry of all was that Caroline had a motive to kill Mike. “The night Mike died, Caroline and he argued. When he left she said, ‘I could kill him.’”
Pru squeezed my hand. “Darwin said those exact words, too, and I know he wouldn’t have done it either.”
The killer wanted to make sure it would be easy to kill Mike by drugging him. That might have ruled out Darwin. I couldn’t see him doing something sneaky like poisoning wine.
“My head hurts.” I texted Caroline but she didn’t answer.
Willow knocked on the doorjamb as she walked in. “Mom, the cash register at the stand isn’t working and no one can figure out how to fix it.”
Pru stood. “Duty calls. We’ll talk when Caroline’s back home.”
Chapter 29
I fed the cats and gave Rocky a good nuzzle. “Sorry, I have to run.”
When I got to Udderly, a line of customers looped around the building. Good. Being insanely busy would keep me from worrying about Caroline.
In the kitchen, Brandon, his ears covered with headphones, bopped at the chiller, adding candy by the handful to a tub of ice cream colored a deep, toxic red. I pulled up short. What on earth?
I lifted one of his headphones. “What flavor is this, Brandon?”
He startled. “Penniman Penny Candy?”
I remembered the flavor as having a light pink color. Had Buzzy changed the recipe? I whipped through the pages of the Book of Spells, looking from the book to the ingredients and measuring cups he’d set out. “Brandon! You’ve added twice as much candy!” I picked up a bottle. “Strawberry syrup? That’s not in the recipe.”
Brandon blushed. “I thought it would taste good?”
I turned away and took a deep breath. Brandon was a good kid. He’d just picked a heck of a time to get creative.
I looked at the mess coming out of the chiller and put on my poker face. “Let’s try it.”
We each dipped in a tasting spoon and tried the concoction. The texture of gummy candy and crunchy whatever-it-was he’d added was deeply unsettling. I forced myself to swallow.
Brandon closed his eyes. “Oh, that’s good.”
Irrational laughter bubbled inside me.
Flo joined us and peered at the ice cream over her glasses. “What’s this?”
“Brandon has invented his own flavor,” I said.
“That’s wonderful, Brandon!” Flo smiled sincerely and Brandon grinned.
I scanned the ingredients. It probably wouldn’t kill anybody. “Let’s get it hardened, then we’ll put it in the case and see how it sells,” I said. Or, I thought, whether anyone’s crazy enough to order it.
* * *
Locals always came to see the sunflowers on Friday because they knew to avoid the crowds on the Saturday and Sunday of Sunflower Festival weekend. Customers poured into the shop and the hours flew by. I checked my phone but there was no message from Caroline.
When it had hardened to the correct consistency, I put Brandon’s creation in the case. A little boy immediately pointed to it and said, “I want the red stuff.” I served him the first scoop. As I readied a cookies-and-cream cone for his dad, the little boy took a bite. His eyes flew open and he took another. “Whoa!” He looked at the cone in wonder then held it out to his dad.
His dad took a bite and grimaced, grabbing a napkin from the counter. “What do you call that one? Makes my teeth hurt.”
“It doesn’t have a name yet,” I said. I’d forgotten to ask Brandon what he wanted to call his creation.
The little boy licked his cone, then made airplane noises and spun in circles. His dad pulled him close and said, “Call it Sugar High.” Dad sat at one of the small tables, his son bouncing at his side.
Aaron walked in, McGillicuddy at his heels, and joined the line. The Hermit of Penniman did leave his house. A few minutes later I waited on him. “What can I get you?” He peered over his glasses and pointed at Brandon’s creation. “What’s that newfangled red ice cream?”
“Candy Explosion!” shouted the little boy, the red ice cream now smeared on his cheeks and shirt.
Aaron snorted. “I’ll stick to vanilla with sprinkles.”
After Aaron left, I went into the kitchen and checked my phone again but there was still no message from Caroline. Out the window, I saw Pru talking with Dandy at the farm stand. Aaron cut through the crowd, McGillicuddy trotting at his heels. He greeted Dandy and then the two of them walked up the lane together. Pru’s smile faded as she watched them go.
* * *
At six o’clock, Caroline came into the shop’s kitchen.
I rushed over to her. “What happened?”
Caroline’s thin shoulders slumped. “They asked me so many questions, over and over. I was starting to believe I’d killed Mike.”
I wrapped her in a hug.
“I’m just drained, Riley. I’m going to make ice cream. That’s my therapy.” She washed her hands and put on an apron. “I have to thank Pru for recommending her lawyer. He’s really nice and was so helpful.”
“What happens next?” I asked, shocked at her wan expression.
“I don’t know.”
After we closed, Caroline’s lawyer came to the house and they conferred at the kitchen table. He was a young guy, with serious black-rimmed glasses and a thick old-fashioned leather briefcase.
I stepped outside, breathing in the soft night air. I thought about going for a run, but decided to save my energy. Saturday would be a long day.
Only a single light burned at the Brightwood’s farm, in Pru’s office. Was she okay? I followed the light to the farmhouse, through the basil-perfumed air of Pru’s herb garden.
I could see into Pru’s office window. Several open boxes were on the floor in front of a bookcase with empty shelves. She sat at her desk, turning the pages of a thick old book, her expression so far away I sensed a grief that didn’t welcome intrusion.
Since my mom passed when I was so young, Pru and Darwin were my model of a happy marriage, their relationship steady as the seasons following one another. Whatever they were facing, I hoped they could weather it together.
I went home and locked the door.
Chapter 30
The sound of voices woke me before the sun. With a groan, I rolled over and squinted out the window. The farm interns were stringing a banner across the barn—Welcome to the Sunflower Festival. Darwin parked a gleaming green tractor by the stand, a photo op for kids to climb and their parents to share the cute images with the world. A gentle sea of nodding sunflowers framed the peaceful scene.
Several photographers had set up cameras on tripods to capture the sun rising over the sunflowers. I flopped back onto my pillow. At the end of the day, there would be photographers capturing the sun setting over the sunflowers. Sunset was past eight this time of the year and we wouldn’t close the shop until ten. What a long day it would be. I reached out to stroke Rocky’s fur, but his side of the bed was empty. I closed my eyes and wondered what he was peeing on now.
The more I tried to sleep, the more sleep eluded me. I showered and dressed, then went downstairs following the sweet scent of waffles.
