“Oh. And who said that Digby and Gemma were having an affair?”
Francis gestured expensively around the room. “Well, everybody.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know. Months, I suppose.”
Digby and his wife were walking our way, Digby ahead of his wife. “So how are the goats settling in?” I said, changing the subject abruptly.
Francis scrunched up her nose. “They’re still quite upset.”
With that, she nodded to me and walked over to the cookie table. I made my way over to Matilda and Eleanor, casting a look around before I spoke. “Francis told me that Gemma was having an affair with somebody called Digby Thompson. That’s him over there with his wife.”
“The one who just picked up a cookie?” Eleanor asked.
I nodded. “Yes, that’s them. I actually noticed them in the service. She elbowed him hard. I suspect he might have been crying or something like that. Francis said Digby and Gemma had been having an affair for some time.”
“Which gives the wife a motive,” Matilda said.
I agreed. “Her name is Paisley. They breed goats and they were at the goat show.”
“Yes, they do look familiar,” Eleanor said. “Wait! Wasn’t he the judge?”
“What judge?” Matilda said.
“The one whose beard was eaten by Gigi?”
“He doesn’t have a beard,” Matilda snapped.
“Obviously not, because she ate it,” Eleanor countered.
“I’ll go and ask Francis,” I said.
I’m sure Francis must have seen me coming, because she headed for the exit. I increased my speed and managed to catch her just outside the door. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me?” she said.
“Yes, Digby Thompson. Was he a judge at the show?”
“Yes, he judged the Any Other Variety,” Francis said. “Oh yes, of course you wouldn’t have recognized him because he had a beard. A rather long beard. He must’ve shaved it off since the show.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “Actually, he looks a lot better now, doesn’t he? Maybe Gemma liked him with the beard and now that she’s gone, he shaved it off.”
“Oh yes, well, thanks for that. I hope the goats settle down soon.”
Francis shot me a thin-lipped smile and then hurried away. I went back inside and gave the news to Matilda and Eleanor.
“I knew it was him!” Eleanor said triumphantly.
“You had better keep out of his way. He won’t be happy to see you,” Matilda said.
I disagreed. “Actually, it gives us a good opportunity to question him.”
Matilda and Eleanor looked at me, surprised. “How?” they said in unison.
“Eleanor can go to him and apologize for Gigi eating his beard.”
Eleanor looked horrified. “No way! He’ll be absolutely furious! He would still be angry with me. I can’t possibly do that.”
I tapped my chin and thought about it some more. “I have a better idea. His wife had a motive to murder Gemma. Maybe you could find out a time when they won’t be together and go to her, pretending you wish to apologize to him but question her instead.”
“I don’t know about that…” Eleanor began, but Matilda interrupted her.
“That’s an absolutely brilliant idea, Jane! Now, we just have to find out where they live or what they do for work and when they will be apart. I’ve been watching them, and Paisley is clearly annoyed with Digby who isn’t able to keep his emotions in check. If she didn’t suspect he was having an affair with Gemma before, she obviously does now.”
“Well, I suspect her more than anybody,” I said. “I hope Detective Stirling has noticed them.”
“Yes, he has,” Matilda said. “I’ve been watching him too. And he’s definitely been watching them.”
“You know, it could have been Digby.” I nodded in his direction. He was sipping from a Styrofoam cup, his eyes red and puffy, and looking crestfallen. “Maybe he murdered Gemma, and that’s why he is so emotional now.”
“Or maybe he and his wife both killed Gemma, and he is remorseful and she isn’t,” Eleanor said.
I expected Matilda to disagree, but to my surprise, she didn’t. “Yes, that’s a possibility too,” she said. “We don’t have a motive. I mean, if Paisley did it out of jealousy, then that’s a motive, but we have no motive for Digby murdering Gemma, and we have no motive for the two of them together murdering Gemma. We’ll have to do some more digging into this. Did Francis tell you anything else, Jane?”
“Only that that they are Alpine breeders. Oh, and that rumors were that he’d been having an affair with Gemma.”
“Okay then, Digby didn’t want her goats, and he won’t inherit anything,” Matilda said. “Speaking of inheritance, Horatio made quite a touching speech about his mother, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He did, and so did Gemma’s friend, Cynthia.”
“Yes, a few people did. Where’s Aaron?”
“He left as soon as the service was over,” Matilda told me. “I expect he simply came to pay his respects, and he didn’t want to speak to Horatio or any of the others. He needn’t have worried, as Horatio left directly after the service too.”
“That means Aaron has gone back to the apartment,” I said in alarm. “What if he’s the murderer? I have to get back to the cupcake store right now.”
Chapter 14
I need not have worried. Rebecca had not seen Aaron that day. I had spent the afternoon baking cupcakes: funetti cupcakes with buttercream frosting, salted caramel cupcakes, strawberry cupcakes, and some of the specialist Amish cupcakes: Amish Friendship Bread cupcakes, Amish Sour Cream Spice cupcakes, and Long John Roll cupcakes.
Halfway through the afternoon, I had just finished my normal daily baking duties when Rebecca had come in and told me there would soon be a fundraiser for the widow Troyer’s medical expenses. I then busied myself baking for the upcoming fundraiser market.
I also made an Amish Bible Cake to take to Digby ostensibly to apologize for Gigi eating his beard and also as an opportunity to question him.
After we shut the shop, I waited for Rebecca to drive away before getting into my car with the Amish Bible Cake and heading home. Matilda and Eleanor were waiting for me. “The herb garden is already coming along.” Matilda nodded to the garden to my right.
I was shocked. “Wow, you’ve done so much!” Matilda and Eleanor were keen gardeners and used to have a small herb garden in the courtyard adjacent to Rebecca’s cupcake store.
“Did you bake a cake for Digby?”
I nodded to Matilda. “I sure did.” I opened the car door and made to get it out, but Matilda and Eleanor hurried over to me. “Let’s go now.”
“Now?” I said. “But I’ve just finished work for the day.”
Matilda jumped into the car. “No time like the present,” she said. “You’ll be able to relax afterward. We made dinner for you, so you won’t have to do a thing, just come home and relax.”
“That’s nice,” I said. I looked up to see Mr. Crumbles looking through the window at me. He appeared to be frowning, although that was his usual expression. I waved goodbye to him and then felt a little foolish for doing so.
“I’ll navigate to Digby’s farm,” Eleanor said. “I’m not sure how we can question him though. I’d rather have a plan than have to play it by ear.”
“Actually, something came up today,” I told them. “There’s going to be a market day soon to benefit the widow Troyer’s medical expenses. The bishop told Rebecca about it yesterday. I’ve been doing a lot of baking for it, and I thought we could ask Digby and Paisley to donate. That will give us a reason to speak with him.”
“What’s he going to donate? Goat milk?” Matilda said.
“Goat milk soap and goat milk hand cream, of course,” Eleanor said. “At least I have been doing my research. Digby and Paisley produce all sorts of goat milk items, such as goat milk lip balm, goat milk lotion, and goat
milk bath salt.”
“They sound nice,” I said. “Still, while the fundraiser does give us more opportunity to speak with him, it doesn’t give us the opportunity to discover if he was having an affair with Gemma. I mean, we can hardly ask him if he was having an affair with Gemma Calhoun or ask him if he or his wife murdered her.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Matilda said from the back seat. “We’ll just get him talking. It’s amazing what people reveal about themselves in general conversation. Take note of everything he says, and we’ll discuss it later.”
“It would be good if we could speak with him and his wife separately.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” Eleanor said after suddenly yelling, “Turn left here!”
I slammed on the brakes and then turned left. “I had no idea there were so many goat farms around.”
Matilda admonished me gently. “I don’t think there are many, just those of Gemma, Digby, and Francis.”
“That’s three,” Eleanor said.
“You interrupted me. I was going to mention that there were other goat breeders from the show.”
“Turn right!” Eleanor yelled. To Matilda, she said, “You’re always exaggerating.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. Jane, take the next turn to the left.”
“Oh look, we’re here,” I said. “I hope he won’t be angry to see us.”
“Even if he is angry, he will pretend to be polite, I’m sure,” Eleanor said.
I couldn’t see anybody out in the fields. Over to the left was a large barn, which I figured was the milking shed. We walked over to the house and knocked on the door. Digby answered. His eyes widened and then narrowed when he saw Eleanor. “You!” he said. It came out as a hiss.
I thrust the Amish Bible Cake at him. He took it by reflex.
“What’s this?” He looked at it suspiciously.
“We have come to apologize for the behavior of our goat,” Eleanor said. “Can you ever forgive me? She was a wild goat and I rescued her. I had no idea she would ever do such a terrible thing.” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes.
“Poor Eleanor has been most distraught ever since the incident,” I said.
His expression softened. “It was kind of you to rescue a goat. Please come inside.” He held the door open. Instead of taking us into the big living room that was directly in front of us, he ushered us through a door to the left into a room which I soon realized was an office. It was of medium size with wood-paneled walls. Huge framed photographs of Alpine goats, their backs covered by ribbons, hung on the walls. Over to one side was shelving showcasing a display of the goat milk products.
After we were seated, Eleanor was the first to speak. “It was awfully kind of you to have an Any Other Variety class at the show. I do hope my goat’s behavior hasn’t prevented such classes at future shows. I do promise I will never take her to another show.”
“That would be wise,” Digby said.
“She is a naughty goat,” Eleanor continued.
Digby’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no such thing as a naughty goat. There are only naughty owners.”
Eleanor shifted in her seat. After an interval, she said, “Yes, you’re right. We rescued the goat and I selected her to show because she was the tamest goat of them all. The most naughty goat we have is Billy. He has done some terrible things.”
“Yes, we won’t go into those now,” Matilda said. “We rescued fifteen goats, you see.”
“It was very kind of you to do so.” His words appeared to be genuine, and his expression softened a little more. “So, you have no interest in dairy goats?”
“No, I’m afraid the milking twice a day would be too much for us,” Matilda said, “although we do love goats. We love all animals. Goats have such pleasant personalities.”
For the first time since we had been there, Digby’s face lit up. “Yes, they do, do they? Goats are absolutely filled with personality, and they have such wonderful senses of humor. Why, I could tell you stories.”
I thought I had better bring the subject around to the victim before he did tell me stories. “It was very kind of you to judge the Any Other Variety class at the show.”
Eleanor agreed. “Yes, it was very kind, particularly as we were told that there was a lot of opposition to the class.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, dear Gemma didn’t want the class to go ahead, and I agreed with her, but after the committee passed it and everybody refused to judge it, I thought I had better put my hand up. It was the right thing to do. Still, Gemma felt I had betrayed her, and now she’s gone.” His voice cracked.
I thought either he was a wonderful actor or he was genuinely upset that Gemma had died. We needed to turn our attention to investigating his wife. “Yes, it’s a sad loss that the whole goat community must feel,” I said. “I’m sure you and your wife were very close to Gemma.”
He looked alarmed. “My wife?” he repeated.
I nodded. “Yes, they must have been good friends.”
He shook his head. “No, because we breed Alpines.”
We must have looked blank, because he added, “Gemma bred Toggenburgs and we breed Alpines.”
“You were good friends with Gemma though, weren’t you?” Matilda said in an innocent tone.
Digby cleared his throat. “Yes.” He stood up. That was obviously our cue to leave, so I pointed to the display on the wall. “Your farm produces all these wonderful products?”
He walked over to them and rested one hand on the wooden shelf. “Yes, we’ve been doing that for years.”
“My twin sister is Amish,” I said. “The Amish community around here is doing a fundraiser for a widow’s medical expenses. Would you be able to donate some products to it? Even a tiny contribution would be wonderful.”
“Oh yes, I would be happy to help the community,” he said. “You will have to speak to my wife. She handles that side of things.”
I couldn’t believe our luck. The three of us smiled widely. No doubt Digby felt we were pleased about the donation.
“And when could we speak with your wife?” I asked him.
“I’ll go fetch her now.”
Chapter 15
As soon as Digby left the room, we turned to each other. “I don’t think he did it,” I whispered. “He seems too upset.”
“It could be remorse for murdering her, though,” Matilda pointed out.
“I’m on the fence about it,” Eleanor said. “I don’t think he’s acting, and I do think he wears his heart on his sleeve. Either he didn’t do it and he’s genuinely upset that Gemma has gone or he’s upset because he knows his wife did it, and he feels guilty because she committed murder due to his affair with Gemma.”
“Hopefully, we can find out something from Paisley,” Matilda said.
We could hear yelling in the distance. “That doesn’t sound good,” Matilda said. “Maybe Paisley won’t want to speak with us.”
Moments later, the office door flung open, and Paisley strode in.
She looked a formidable figure—well-groomed even though she had probably spent the day in the house—with blonde hair slicked back and wearing a string of pearls, a sensible suit, and sensible shoes. She extended her hand. “I’m Paisley Thompson.”
I shook her hand. Her grip was particularly firm.
“My husband”—she almost spat the word—“tells me you would like a donation for a fundraiser?”
Matilda nodded. “Actually, we came here to apologize to your husband.”
Her brow wrinkled with confusion. “Apologize? Why?”
“Because my goat ate his beard at the show when your husband was judging the Any Other Variety class,” Eleanor said.
Paisley clutched her stomach and laughed hard. When she recovered, she said, “That was you? That’s hilarious. I didn’t recognize you without the goat. I must admit, my eyes were on that goat the whole time. I’ve never seen anything so funny in all my life.”
“We noticed the goat milk products on the wall,” I said, gesturing to said products. “My twin sister is Amish, and her community is about to have a market to raise funds for an Amish widow’s medical expenses. We were hoping you would make a donation, no matter how small.”
“Yes, Digby explained that to me.” Her eyes alighted on the cake on the desk. “What’s that?”
“We brought him an Amish Bible Cake by way of apology,” I said.
“That’s very kind of you.” She tut-tutted. “Imagine Digby leaving it here!” She crossed to the desk to pick it up. “Come and have a drink with me, won’t you? We will share the cake. No point leaving it for Digby.” She winked at us and beckoned us to follow her into the main part of the house.
Paisley indicated we should sit on large white couches. I figured there must be money in the goat milk product industry as the house was lavishly furnished in a Hamptons style. It looked lovely, even though we were nowhere near a beach.
Everything was white, with touches of washed out blue. There were natural fibers, timber floors, and expansive glass windows. Classical music played softly in the background. A candle was burning on the coffee table in front of me. I bent forward to smell it. The scent was strongly lavender, although I detected subtle notes of something else, maybe jasmine.
“Lavender,” Paisley supplied, somewhat unnecessarily. “It keeps me calm. What would you like to drink?”
“Would you have any herb tea?” I asked her.
“I have lemon and ginger.”
“That would be perfect, thank you.”
She looked expectedly at Matilda and Eleanor. “Do you have any hard liquor?” Eleanor asked her. “Brandy? Gin? Whiskey?”
Matilda kicked Eleanor in the shin. “My sister is joking. Coffee would be lovely for us both please, cream and one sugar.”
Paisley looked confused but went into the kitchen. As it was an open concept house, we weren’t able to whisper to each other, so I contented myself by looking around the room. There were also framed pictures of goats, but they were smaller ones propped up on furniture rather than hanging from walls.
Speak With Confection: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery Page 8
