The Rocky Road to Ruin

by Meri Allen

  Sprinkles was at the window giving a plaintive yowl.

  Caroline was already at the table, sipping a cup of fragrant chai tea. “I couldn’t sleep. I went over to the shop to make more ice cream then came back and made tea and waffles.” She’d sliced some strawberries, whipped real cream, and scrambled eggs. All my favorites. All Caroline had was the mug of tea. “Aren’t you hungry?” I poured myself some tea.

  “Riley, I wish I could tell you how much—”

  I held up my hand. “Caroline. It’s not necessary. You’d do the same for me.”

  “Take over your work? Your travel blog, maybe.” She laughed. “Well, in a minute if you went to Spain again.”

  I knew what was coming. “You’re heading back to work, right?”

  “Tuesday, this week.” She smiled ruefully. “If the police don’t arrest me first.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I love being in Penniman.” I filled my plate and sat down. “And I think the police will arrest Angelica.” That last part wasn’t as true; I still feared for Caroline. I took a big bite of eggs.

  Caroline gripped her mug. “They took my fingerprints, to see if they match some on the wine bottle. That’s what Tillie said.”

  I almost choked on my eggs. “Tillie shouldn’t be telling anybody anything.” But that was exactly why I wanted to talk to her. She’d spill stuff about the investigation I’d never learn any other way.

  Sprinkles made a forlorn chirrup sound. I scanned the kitchen. “Have you seen Rocky?”

  Caroline shook her head. “Probably exploring. I found him in my closet yesterday, inside a shoe box.”

  “Well, whatever he gets himself into, I hope he can get himself out of.”

  * * *

  With only Caroline, Brandon, and I working, Saturday morning at Udderly was nonstop with the festival crowd. At lunchtime, I arranged for pizza to be delivered, and Pru sent over a vegetable tray for us to snack on. We needed the energy.

  The chiller sat idle. I’d been so focused on making ice cream for the festival, I suddenly realized an inescapable and sobering fact: the shop would be open on Monday and every day after that until the end of October. I needed to keep making ice cream.

  Through the window I saw a powder blue trailer with Magic Minis painted on the side pull into the lane. “There’s the miniature horse lady. I’ll be back.”

  I showed the driver, an older woman with two braids dyed a Cinderella blue that matched her trailer, where to park. She skillfully maneuvered the vehicle up to the pen, opened the back of the trailer and set down a ramp. A crowd gathered immediately.

  The woman put on a matching blue baseball cap with Magic Minis embroidered on it then swept her arm to the back of the trailer. “I’m Dale,” she announced. “Meet my babies.” She made a clicking noise with her tongue and out of the trailer stepped the most darling creatures, tiny horses no taller than my waist. My heart swelled at the sight of such overwhelming cuteness. Dale beckoned her little charges with soft words. The first horse down the ramp was white with a white mane and wore sparkly pink sneakers. “This here’s Lady Mirabelle.” As one, the crowd sighed as the darling horse took dainty steps from the ramp into the pen.

  “And this is Bob,” Dale said. A golden brown little horse, even tinier than the Lady Mirabelle, inched down the ramp. Bob wore red sneakers with a Red Sox emblem, and Dale had affixed a baseball cap to his shaggy mane.

  The effect of the little horses was immediate. Phones were raised to take photos. Children swarmed the pen and reached out sticky fingers to pet them, but Dale started the horses on a slow promenade around the pen that kept “her babies” out of reach while still giving everyone a chance to see them.

  I hated to drag myself away. “Dale, can I get you a drink? Or some ice cream?”

  “Thank you. I’ll have some when we’re all done and the babies are back safe in the trailer,” Dale said. A teenage boy slung a leg over the fence as if to climb into the pen. Dale took off her baseball cap and smacked him with it. “Back off!” she barked. “I stay with my babies to make sure folks behave.”

  “I see you have things well in hand,” I said as the teen slunk off. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Your money’s as green as anyone else’s. And Buzzy was okay,” Dale said with typical Yankee understatement. “Didn’t think too much of that son of hers. Heard he was trying to sell off his own ma’s property and had a girl in every port. Looks like that fancy New York girlfriend of his took care of his wandering eye.”

  As I walked back to the shop I considered her words. How fast gossip traveled in little towns like Penniman. I liked Angelica, but better that she was arrested than Caroline. Or Darwin. Or … me.

  What was Voelker thinking now? Would he think that Caroline’s friend would kill to protect her? Getting rid of Mike would take the pressure off Caroline to sell the farm. I was Caroline’s alibi and she was mine.

  I threw one more longing look at the miniature horses and caught sight of a pink Mini squeezing into a parking spot by the farm stand. Emily got out and swung her long hair as Kyle unfolded himself from the passenger side and greeted Darwin. What were they doing here?

  I jogged across the lane as Darwin, Emily, and Kyle headed to the farmhouse.

  At the farm stand, a woman held out her credit card to Pru, but Pru’s attention was focused on the group going into the house. I took it and swiped the transaction. Pru shook her head, thanked the woman, and handed her a quart of strawberries.

  “What’s going on, Pru?” I whispered.

  Emily looked back just before the door closed, smiled, and gave us a wave.

  Pru frowned. “Darwin won’t tell me, Riley.”

  * * *

  I returned to the shop, deeply unsettled. As I reached the kitchen door, I noticed something on the step.

  Half a dead mouse.

  “Not again!” I grabbed a shovel and threw the carcass in the Dumpster that was tucked on the side of the building away from the parking lot, praying no one saw me.

  As I completed that disagreeable task, I heard a small yowl. I looked up. Rocky stalked above my head on the very edge of the roofline.

  “How did you get out of the house?” I put my hands on my hips. “You’re impossible! Rocky Impossible Rhodes, come down this instant.”

  He licked his paw casually, then jumped from the low roof onto the dumpster, then onto a stack of discarded crates. The way they were stacked, in three columns, each one shorter than the other, made stair steps for the intrepid climber. I made a grab for him but he was too quick. He leapt and disappeared into a row of sunflowers.

  “One more gift like that and you’re grounded!”

  * * *

  I tried to keep watch out the window to see when Emily and Kyle left, but the shop was too busy, the line too long. Around four o’clock I glanced out the workroom window and saw a man laden with camera equipment setting up a tripod. “Not reporters again,” I muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

  I stepped outside, but to my relief it was a professional photographer, not a news cameraman. Two of his helpers held up a banner that read “Penniman Is Blooming: For Smart Growth Vote Aldridge.”

  Caroline leaned out the workroom door. “I forgot to tell you, Kyle asked if he could shoot a campaign photo here.”

  Kyle, Nina, and a woman stepped from an SUV. Kyle and Nina looked casual in jeans, Kyle wearing a blue button-down shirt, and Nina in a white denim jacket over a red T-shirt. The woman adjusted Nina’s collar while Kyle shook hands with the photographer. The shot had been angled so the field of sunflowers provided the backdrop to the campaign sign. Even from a distance, I could tell this image was a winner.

  I rejoined Caroline inside and half an hour later, Kyle and Nina greeted us as they came into the shop to order ice cream.

  Nina beamed as she took a small cup of vanilla ice cream from Caroline. “The sunflower field’s a perfect backdrop for the photos. The farm just says Penniman, doesn’t it?”
r />   “Thanks for letting me do the shoot here,” Kyle said.

  Caroline smiled. “You’re welcome. Speaking of photos, I have Mike’s phone and there’s a great pic of you and him on it, I think from Block Island. I’ll send it to you.”

  Kyle dripped ice cream on his shirt and laughed. “Whoa, I’m a slob. Text it to me, okay?” He grabbed a napkin and swiped at his shirt.

  “I will.” Caroline turned to Nina. “I saw your watch. It’s beautiful. Is it vintage?”

  Nina grabbed a napkin to wipe her lips, showing Caroline her sports watch. “Nope. It’s got all the bells and whistles to track my workouts.”

  “Oh, I meant the other one in the pictures. It’s lovely,” Caroline said.

  Nina blinked.

  Nina didn’t know what Caroline was talking about. The thought hit me with a jolt.

  “Thanks again, Caroline, Riley.” Kyle handed me some money. “Keep the change.” They both headed for the door, Kyle shaking a few hands on his way out. I watched them through the window. Once they were outside, Nina tossed her ice cream in a bin and folded her arms.

  Caroline shot me a puzzled look. “What did I say?”

  “I’ll be right back,” I ran to the window in the kitchen and watched the two make their way to their SUV. Kyle stopped to chat with the photographer and crew, but Nina got into the SUV and slammed the door.

  That wasn’t Nina in the picture on that trip to Block Island. Kyle was going to have some explaining to do.

  * * *

  My arm ached from scooping ice cream. I massaged it, convinced that my right bicep was getting bigger than the left. Still it was a good day—the festival had brought in a ton of money.

  As we locked up and headed home, Caroline and I talked about the uncomfortable exchange with Nina. “I wonder who the woman in the photo was,” Caroline said. “How sad. Kyle and Nina have been together since high school. I wonder if they’ll get a divorce.”

  “I imagine they’d want to avoid any negative press in an election year.” A memory surfaced. “Wait a minute. I’ve seen that watch before. When we went to Kyle’s office. His secretary had that beautiful diamond watch.” I remembered too the photo of Nina and Kyle’s family, their beautiful vacation home. “Poor Nina. Kyle having an affair with his secretary. What a cliché.”

  I realized that Rocky was trotting at my heels and I scooped him up. “There you are!”

  “Wait a sec. I’m sure he was in the house when I left,” Caroline said.

  I gave him a nuzzle. “Little escape artist.”

  Caroline stopped at the mailbox before we went inside. “I didn’t have time to pull in the mail yesterday.”

  Once inside, Sprinkles glared at me from the powder room. I sighed and flushed.

  While Caroline busied herself washing some dishes, the cats slunk into the parlor. I followed and checked outside the window. No fire—for now. I hoped Stretch, or whoever was making the fires, would take a night off. I couldn’t wait to take a shower and fall into bed.

  I caught sight of the trash I’d found earlier and picked up the wastebasket to empty it. In the brighter light of the kitchen, I looked closer.

  “Caroline, look at this.” I pulled out the scrap of paper I’d tossed the other day. To my shock, it was half of a check, torn on the diagonal.

  She took it in a soapy hand. “That’s Mike’s signature. Twenty thousand dollars!”

  I took it back. “Dated the day Mike died.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “The parlor.” Where Mike and Darwin had argued.

  “Wait.” Caroline dried her hands. “We don’t know who it’s made out to. It only has the signature and the amount.”

  “Who else would it be?” I said. “Mike and Darwin were in there arguing. Mike was trying to bribe Darwin. No wonder Darwin was so mad.”

  “But bribe Darwin to do what?” Caroline said. “Darwin doesn’t own the farm.”

  I considered. “Caroline, if Darwin told you he couldn’t run the farm any longer, or couldn’t afford to stay, what would you do? Truthfully?”

  After a moment, she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “If Pru and Darwin left? Without them here, it would feel so empty. Lonely. Maybe I would sell that half of the farm and try to keep the house and Udderly? I don’t know.”

  Exasperation with Mike filled me. At the funeral, he’d seemed like the loving brother. That’s the problem with people living a double life. You can never take things at face value.

  Caroline turned back to the sink, scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary, soap bubbles flying. “Mike sure wasn’t good at reading people. Bribing Darwin Brightwood was never going to happen.” She dropped the dish back into the dishpan, tossed the sponge into the sink, and flung herself into a chair. I sat next to her.

  “Mike knew you’d say no. He was working all the angles.” I told Caroline about Emily and Kyle visiting Darwin at the festival. “And they’re still working angles.”

  Caroline took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “What other angles are there?”

  I recalled Aaron the Hermit’s expression when I asked if he’d been approached to sell. “What if the neighbors sell?”

  She shrugged. “They don’t own that much property. Besides I don’t see the Gravers ever selling.”

  “But what if? Would it matter to you if they did?”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t know. If there was a big development at the top of the hill, it sure wouldn’t feel the same here.”

  Aaron had certainly acted squirrely when I’d talked to him earlier. “Did you know Aaron’s last name is Tuthill? Do you know anything about him?”

  She shrugged. “He’s been there forever. I know he has a little dog named McGillicuddy that’s the light of his life and he usually orders vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.”

  Aaron’s property was directly across from the Love Nest. He’d mentioned security cameras. If anyone had seen what happened near the Love Nest on the night of the murder, it would be Aaron. I couldn’t believe for a minute he’d forgotten to turn on his security system. How could I get the truth out of him?

  Chapter 31

  Sunday was a beautiful repeat of Saturday, except that we had even more customers and there were baby goats in the petting pen instead of miniature horses. Udderly’s door never fully closed because the line streamed out of the shop into the parking lot. It was testament to my fatigue that when I glanced up to take the next order, it was Flo’s handsome honcho, Cadillac Ranch. I hadn’t noticed him come in. His warm smile gave me a burst of energy. “Hi! What will it be today?”

  “Good afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat and my knees went weak. How did the man do that? “Busy day?”

  “Yes, busy but fun.” It took me a moment to register that Stretch was beside him. My smile froze. My pick for most likely to be the firebug was also right in front of me.

  “I’d like to try a scoop of sunflower and a scoop of strawberry in a cup, please.” Cadillac Ranch’s voice was music. I served him, then Stretch ordered the same thing.

  “Fresh from the farm, right?” Stretch said.

  Another customer leaned over to Stretch and said, “If you think the strawberry ice cream’s good, you should taste the peach.”

  I found my voice. “I’m afraid we don’t have peach yet, Stretch. Maybe next week. Will you be around next week to have some?” Smooth, Riley.

  “Ice cream made with fresh fruit is labor intensive but worth it,” Stretch said.

  I couldn’t keep the surprise off my face. Stretch made ice cream?

  “You surprised the lady,” Cadillac Ranch said. “May I present my friend, Zach—”

  “Just Zach.” Zach aka Stretch, pulled his hat tighter over his ears.

  “Right now he looks like something the cat dragged in, but he’s a very good cook.” Cadillac Ranch grinned.

  Having seen what Rocky dragged in for me, I had to agree. Zach hadn’t shaved and was well bey
ond any fashionable five-o’clock shadow. He wore a wrinkled polo shirt untucked over baggy cargo shorts and hiking boots, plus that ski cap that made me think of burglars. What an odd combination for a warm summer day. “And I haven’t introduced myself properly. I’m Jasper Yeaton.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Riley Rhodes. And that’s Caroline and Brandon.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Cadillac Ranch gave each a polite nod of the head. “And Zach’s here—”

  “For a while.” Stretch hunched his shoulders.

  The line behind them stirred with impatience.

  “I’ve got this.” Zach peeled a twenty off a thick roll of crisp bills. I kept my expression friendly as I gave him change but thought, Where did he get all that cash?

  Jasper touched the brim of his hat, and they stepped outside. I didn’t know if I could call him Jasper now. I’d thought of him as Cadillac Ranch for too long.

  Now I was really confused. The guy I thought of as the camper had a name, Zach, and was friends with Cadillac Ranch?

  Two women sitting at one of the tiny indoor tables nudged each other. They took their ice cream and followed Jasper and Zach outside. Through the window I watched the women approach the two men. Jasper was his usual courtly self, greeting them with a slight bow. Zach looked like he wanted to bolt, but Jasper tugged his sleeve. They posed for a selfie. I guess Jasper is better known than I thought. How odd that he was hanging out with someone like Zach.

  Jasper took a guitar from the back seat of his Cadillac and started strumming, his warm voice streaming in through the open door.

  Caroline leaned over to me. “I didn’t think I liked country music, but now I do.”

  Pru burst into the shop, breathing hard. “Houdini escaped!”

  “Who?”

  “Willow’s goat,” she said. “Hairy Houdini! He got out of your pen!”

  I ran outside. Visitors crowded around the pen but they weren’t looking at the goats in it—they were looking up. The little black and white baby goat named Houdini strutted on the shop’s roof.