Dark Side of the Moo (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 2)

by Ellen Riggs

  I stopped speaking suddenly, noticing that Nellie had managed to slip away from Jilly and was close on our heels. Was she eavesdropping on us? I hoped she hadn’t heard me praising my favorites, because our road together hadn’t been easy. I’d have to make time to bolster her confidence, too. It sounded like everyone needed a shot of joy.

  Ben stood a little straighter, casting a long shadow on the sidewalk. “Ivy, you were always so kind. We missed you. A lot.”

  “That’s so nice to hear, but I’m sure Keri is doing a great job. She’s very capable.”

  “Did I hear my name?” Keri said, falling in step with us, as Jilly managed to reclaim Nellie.

  I nodded, smiling. “I was just saying that you, Ben and Paulette were my best hires. As hard as all this is, I know you’re going to bounce back and flourish.”

  Keri’s serious brown eyes filled with tears. “I’ve done my best, Ivy, but I couldn’t fill your shoes. Wilf told me so every day.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and patted her eyes. “I wondered if I was going to end up in the next round of cuts.”

  “Me too,” Ben said.

  Paulette pressed her lips together and looked down. She knew too many of Wilf’s secrets to be let go. In fact, she probably had dirt on a lot of people in the company. With Wilf gone, they’d no doubt retire her before long with a very generous package.

  Keats circled and gently urged us back to Jilly, who looked frazzled. Her hair had been in a neat twist earlier, but loose frizzy tendrils flew around her face now. Neal was crowding in too close to her. Meanwhile, Nellie, Kate and Macy had forged on ahead despite Jilly’s efforts to keep them together.

  “Ladies,” I called after them. “Ducklings, remember?”

  Nellie called back, “The only thing that helps when I’m stressed is to spend money. Please tell me this sad little town has something to offer.”

  I gestured to Keats. “Bring them in, buddy. No wandering allowed.”

  His ears came forward and his posture changed. Sinking closer to the pavement, he rushed toward them, circling a large planter filled with fall flowers and emerging a few yards ahead of the women. In typical sheepdog style, he cut a wide arc and then pressed them back with his presence and confidence.

  “Get away from me, you scraggly mutt,” Nellie said, trying to duck around him. In her stilettos and tight short skirt, she couldn’t compete with Keats’ smooth moves. He used his signature figure eight to bring her together with Kate, and then repeated it to unite Macy with them. They stood bunched and motionless on the sidewalk, unsure what to do.

  “Ivy,” Nellie said, turning on the spot. “Call off your dog. This is not my idea of the grand tour.”

  “It’s not what I had in mind, either, Nellie,” I said. “But we’re making the best of it, and that means staying together all the time. Keats and I are just following Chief Harper’s orders.”

  Jilly snickered beside me and whispered, “As if.”

  “It’s true,” I said, grinning at her. “I mean, basically.”

  “Interrogating people is following Chief Hottie’s orders?” she whispered.

  “That was just some idle chitchat with old pals,” I said. “And I’m done for now.”

  Turning, I saw Keats was staring from one woman to the other. He was trying to mesmerize them with his gaze in typical sheepdog fashion, and it appeared to be working. All of them were frozen on the spot like lambs.

  “Leave it, Keats,” I said, snapping my fingers. “Ladies, start your engines. We’re going into my favorite store in Clover Grove.”

  Teri Mason looked up from her laptop when the bell rang as we walked into Hill Country Designs. Her hair was streaked in vibrant colors that conveyed both her love of art and her independent spirit. We’d hit it off right away and were well on the way to becoming friends. It didn’t hurt that she found Keats so compelling she’d asked to paint his portrait. She’d taken some photos of him in front of the barn at Runaway Farm and promised to have the painting installed over my mantel before the next group of guests arrived.

  Since there was no one else booked, she’d cleverly given herself a generous deadline.

  “Welcome,” she said, coming to greet the crowd. “You must be the Flordale staff. Ivy’s told me so much about you, and it’s an honor to welcome you to my store.”

  I could tell by the way Teri’s normally fixed smile flashed on and off that she’d heard about Wilf. Of course she had. The Clover Grove grapevine would be on fire with the news, especially with both my mother and I included as possible suspects. It was like Christmas in October for our gossip-loving community.

  “Teri, I need your help,” I said. “These ladies have credit cards screaming for action. Could you hook them up with some quality hill country souvenirs to remind them of their stay?”

  “Like we could ever forget it,” Nellie muttered. “I’ll have nightmares forever.”

  Teri scanned Nellie from her immaculately straightened hair to her deathtrap shoes, and finally her smile stayed on. “I love your style,” she said. “I have a one-of-a-kind pendant I’ve never put on display because no one in Clover Grove could pull it off.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” Nellie said, rolling her eyes. “But I’ll take a look at this rare piece and decide if it makes the grade for Boston.”

  All the Flordale women crowded around the display case to see what Teri had to offer, while Neal and Ben roamed around the store looking uncomfortable.

  “This feels like an art gallery,” Neal said. “It gives me the creeps. Is there a sports bar around where we could wait for you?”

  I shook my head. “Keeping the herd together, right? But as soon as we’re done here, I promise we’ll sit down for a drink.”

  “My testosterone might be gone by then,” Neal said, grumbling as he paced. “This place is a chick store.”

  “No worries, I have plenty for both of us,” Ben said, giving Neal a playful shove.

  “Big isn’t better, buddy,” Neal said, faking a punch to Ben’s gut.

  “Careful of the art, guys,” I said, although I was relieved to see them starting to joke around as they used to when we worked together.

  Not that I missed those days one bit. It would take a lot more than two deaths on my property to make me regret my move to Runaway Farm. My eyes drifted to Jilly, who’d perched on a bench by the window with Keats by her side. We’d get through this together, just like she said. But I couldn’t deny that a murder hit you harder when you knew the victim well. Wilf was no saint but he’d been part of my life for years. A whole lot of hot air just got sucked out of the world and it was impossible not to feel the vacuum.

  At least, for me. My female colleagues, on the other hand, were kibitzing as they argued over Teri’s trinkets. I’d never heard Macy and Kate talk so much, and for once they were on opposing sides. Ultimately, everyone left with something, and most with multiple items. It made me happy to help a friend and the local economy.

  Their credit cards got another workout at Miniature Mutts up the street. Although none of the women seemed to be pet lovers, they had friends or family who were, so there was a great deal of cooing over Mabel’s tiny hand-painted dogs, cats and farm animals.

  Ben and Neal wilted further, until I had to call it quits on the shopping. I promised the women we’d return as soon as Kellan gave us more freedom.

  Outside, people started scattering again and I got Keats to round them up so we could take a break at the Berry Good Café, one of the more popular spots in town. Since the day was bright and unseasonably warm, we sat outside on the patio. Keats took his place to my left, like a black-and-white statue, staring around with his eerie blue eye as people ordered tea, coffee, scones and other treats.

  “You promised a drink, not a tea party,” Neal said, tapping his fingers on the table.

  “I figured we’d all done enough day drinking,” I said, lumping myself in, although I’d steered well clear of Jilly’s mimosas. “Some caffeine w
ill revive everyone. It’s been quite a day.”

  “Thanks for trying to make it a little better,” Ben said, giving me a warm smile. “I think I can speak for all of us in saying we missed you.”

  There was a murmur of dissent somewhere down the table, where Nellie sat with the Raptors, Kate and Macy.

  I gave them an HR-approved smile and said, “Well, our department was like family to me for years.” If piranhas could be family. Some of these corporate fish could pick a corpse bare in two minutes. But they weren’t in a corporate setting now and already they were starting to seem like run-of-the-mill goldfish. Clover Grove—or murder—had mellowed them.

  Keri mirrored my smile. “Although we’ve missed you, it’s clear you did the right thing. You’ve created a wonderful new life for yourself. I mean, except for… Well, you know.”

  The waiter arrived with a tinkling tray and we fell silent as he put cups and plates in front of us. After he left, I poured tea into my mug and then raised it.

  “Let’s take a moment and pay tribute to Wilf. Maybe we can each share something good about him.” The silence continued, so I said, “For example, he never rewrote my slide decks. I really appreciated that.”

  “I’ll go next,” Paulette said. “He always gave me flowers on Secretaries Day.”

  Keri looked as if she were digging deep but finally spit out, “He didn’t dock me for sick days when I got that nasty virus during a business trip.”

  “He let me have the last turkey sandwich in the cafeteria once,” Macy said.

  “I got to take an extra long lunch on my birthday and only make up half the time,” Kate said.

  Nellie raised her hand. “Once he complimented me for getting back to my desk so fast after a fire alarm, especially in heels. I think the stairs almost killed him.”

  “Nellie!” Paulette sounded horrified.

  “What? I didn’t mean it that way. Do we have to watch every word now?”

  “Yes,” Keri said, simply. “Every word.”

  “My turn,” Neal said. “I’m grateful Wilf didn’t fire me. Even though he threatened to pretty much weekly.”

  “Weekly?” Ben said, with a bitter laugh. “It was daily for me.”

  “Aw, guys, that was just his way,” Keri said. “You know he threatened me with the same thing just last night. I’m sure he wouldn’t have followed through.”

  “I always took him seriously,” Ben said. “Every day I went home and counted my blessings that I was still on the payroll.”

  “He was all bark, really,” Keri said. She twisted her serviette, visibly upset that her staff was so stressed.

  “Except when he actually bit,” Nellie called down the long table. She was carefully scraping all the icing off a cupcake and piling it on the plate. I never understood that. Wasn’t icing the whole purpose of a cupcake? “Let’s be a bit more sensitive to Ivy. He only threatened us, but he actually fired her.”

  Everyone froze. Spoons stopped clinking and china stopped rattling. A heavy silence hung over the table as Nellie continued stripping her cupcake.

  “It’s okay,” I said, quickly, as Keats crawled under the table to sit on my feet. “I don’t know what you heard, but I had my letter of resignation ready. That’s why my desk had been cleared out even before Wilf let me go. I’d hoped to make a graceful exit, but after what happened with Keats, I never got the chance.”

  “Wilf burned you with that package,” Neal said. “It took some guts for him to come here and face you, I bet.”

  I shrugged. “He didn’t seem fazed, did he? I guess he wanted to let bygones be bygones, just like I did.”

  Neal stared at me over the rim of his mug. His nose was pointy and his eyes a swampy sort of green. “He stiffed you for what… a couple hundred grand? Not to mention pride. I bet that still smarts, but you always had a good poker face, Ivy.”

  I summoned that very poker face now. “Maybe that’s why they called me the grim reaper.”

  Ben glared at Neal. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’d just like to say that Ivy was great to me at Flordale, and probably to all of you, too.”

  “We’re all on edge,” Paulette said. “But there’s no reason to make insinuations, Neal, if that’s what you’re doing. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Well, someone killed Wilf,” he said. “At the moment, everyone’s a suspect, and from where I sit, Ivy had the most motivation. Maybe she set her mom up to help.”

  Jilly slapped her hand on the table hard enough to make the china and cutlery rattle. “How dare you, Neal Fife? Ivy’s my best friend and she’s incapable of killing so much as a fly.”

  “Oh, I kill flies,” I said. “The ones that bite. But thanks, Jilly.”

  Lifting her hand off the table, Jilly signalled me to pipe down, and then continued her attack on Neal. “I suggest you stop throwing accusations around, because your reputation isn’t spotless, Neal, is it?”

  He set his mug down so clumsily that coffee sloshed over the rim. “How do you know that?”

  “Headhunter grapevine. And you just confirmed it with your reaction.”

  “What did he do?” Keri asked. “I’m head of HR at Flordale. I should know.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information,” Jilly said. “Just like I can’t divulge what I know about anyone else.”

  I figured Jilly was bluffing to divert their focus from me. She’d certainly grabbed my interest and everyone else’s.

  “Whatever,” Neal said, flicking his fingers at Jilly as if she were one of the biting flies. “You gave up a sweet job to slave in the kitchen. Steve is running your firm now.”

  She gave him a cold smile. “My name’s still on the masthead and my reputation is still on the line. So don’t worry, I’m not sharing stories from the headhunter grapevine. But it’s worth noting that most people at this table probably have something to hide.”

  The mumbled protests grew, and I had to raise my voice to be heard. “I highly doubt any of you had a big enough grudge against Wilf to want him gone. And I had nothing at all to gain from it. So let’s just put all that aside right now and have some fun, okay?”

  “Fun?” Kate said, picking up her spoon and clinking it around in her cup. “Here? This place is dead.”

  There was a long awkward pause and then Ben started laughing. The rest of us followed.

  Kate thin face flushed and she said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You know what?” I said. “I’ve changed my mind. More day drinking is exactly what’s needed. Let’s stop to refuel on the way home.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Edna Evans had a permanent pucker that probably predated my arrival on earth. I remembered it from her visits as a school nurse to administer vaccinations with far too much glee. It seemed to be the only time her lips unfurled to permit a small smile. When she had to chase kids down—as she always did my brother—she let loose a wild cackle that many of us probably still heard in nightmares.

  When I arrived at her house the next morning, the smile and the cackle were locked away and the pucker deepened as my closest neighbor, a shameless snoop, stared down at Keats. He sat by my feet with his tail wrapped neatly around his paws, white tuft on display.

  “Again?” Edna said. “We talked about this weeks ago, Ivy Galloway. No vermin in my house.”

  “Miss Evans, this dog saved my life a few weeks ago and he might very well have saved yours. It’s anyone’s guess who the killer may have come after next.”

  “I’d like to see someone try,” she said, resting her hands on the hips of a yellowed, old nursing uniform. “I’m not easy to kill. I can’t tell you how many nasty infections I caught from you kids at school.”

  “Well, I suppose the murderer wouldn’t have threatened you,” I said. “You were friends, after all.”

  “Friends! That is slanderous overstatement.” Her fingers twitched as if she’d like to slap me. “We’d crossed paths over the years, of course. It’s
a small town. But we were never close.”

  Kicking off my boots, I invited myself into the living room and took a seat on an overstuffed chair. Keats took his post at my left, sitting as erect as he possibly could, ears forward, nose twitching. He was taking Edna’s moral temperature, and judging by the way his ears flattened, he didn’t like the results.

  She was equally unimpressed by him. Her lips looked as if someone had stitched them up and pulled too tight on the thread.

  “I heard you went to school with Lloyd Boyce’s killer,” I said. I avoided speaking the name aloud, partly because “killer” made more of an impact and partly because mentioning the incident still made me flinch. I wanted to stay composed, because Edna played a good game—especially for someone close to 80. “Plus you had a standing bridge night and were in the sheepdog herding club. That sounds pretty friendly to me.”

  “I can see that it would given you’re an outsider, Ivy. We do things differently in Clover Grove. It’s quite possible to attend social gatherings together without linking arms and skipping like girls in the schoolyard.”

  Now my lips puckered as I tried to hold in a laugh at the idea of Edna and Lloyd’s killer skipping today.

  She took a seat in her recliner and pushed it back with a clunk. “I don’t see anything funny about this, Ivy. You brought a very warped sense of humor home from Boston.”

  “Thank goodness I’ve kept any humor at all given what’s been happening.” I rested my fingers on the soft fur between Keats’ ears, which always had a powerful grounding effect on me. “Edna, let me be frank. The killer told me you two were in cahoots together. That you provided information, in fact, that nearly got Keats and me killed.”

  Keats let out a little whine. I could tell from the angle of his head that he was pinning Edna with his eerie blue eye.

  The stare didn’t faze Edna one bit. “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she said, waving a gnarled hand. “I’m sure you’d have thrashed your way out of that situation just fine without the help of that dog. You Galloways are like vermin yourself, come to think of it. Very hard to keep down.”