by Ellen Riggs
Neal turned to me just as the train started its perilous roll down the steep tracks. His voice was almost blown away but I heard the indignant, “I was not.”
My screams drowned out anything more until we were ascending the second, even larger, hill. “Sorry,” I said. “I was just repeating what I heard on the Clover Grove grapevine. You and Ben were seen struggling with Wilf near the barn that night.”
His eyes were on me instead of the awesome escapade. “After we got him subdued, we all went back inside. Wilf passed out and I went to my room. I have no idea what happened after that.” He faced forward again. “That’s what I told the police, too.”
As the train paused at the second peak, I tossed out, “I believe you, Neal. But since I knew you were about to get fired for just cause, you had… MOTIVE.” My last word came out as an unintended shriek and the roller coaster surged forward.
“Who said that?” he yelled back.
“Senior management,” I gasped, as we bottomed out and sped toward the full loop. “I have friends.”
“Your friends are wrong.”
“They said you were sharing trade secrets.” I closed my eyes in hopes that it would quell the rising nausea. If I couldn’t see what was happening, maybe my brain would believe I was lying in a sweet meadow with Keats beside me.
“Exchanging good information,” he said. We kept rolling until we literally hung upside down in our harnesses. “And Flordale wouldn’t have fired me for it. I had leverage.”
“I wish I’d had leverage,” I yelled, eyes still closed. “What did you have on him?”
Rolling into the downward spiral, my breath got sucked out into the fall air.
“An affair,” Neal yelled. “Never mess with IT guys. We know everything.”
When my breath came back, I choked out, “I figured. My money’s on Kate.”
“Wrong,” he said. “Think bigger. I was still gathering proof when they locked us all out of the system yesterday.”
“Keep up the good work,” I said. “You’re a brave man.”
“Everyone loves an underdog,” he said.
Not necessarily, I thought, as we moved into the last death-defying incline. If I could keep my stomach calm, it would surely be a miracle.
We made it through alive and coasted to a stop. Neal jumped out and didn’t look back, but a young male worker took one look at me and offered his hand.
“I’m fine,” I said, although I clutched his arm gratefully as we walked down the few steps. Jilly reached out and took my arm from him. “I’m fine, Jilly, really.”
“You look terrible,” she said, as Keats circled, poking me with his long muzzle as if taking my pulse at various points of contact.
“That she does,” a familiar voice said.
I turned to see Kellan Harper coming down the stairs from the roller coaster platform. Hanging from his arm was a pretty woman who could be Jilly’s twin, unless I was seeing double. She wobbled on high heels, making peeping noises of distress.
Who was this woman? And why was she clinging to Kellan as if she had a right to? If she did have a right to, why did it feel like we’d shared a moment in the garden the day before?
Whatever feeling I was trying to recall vanished as another wave of nausea rolled over me. I had just enough time to seize Jilly’s half-empty box of popcorn and turn quickly away from everyone before losing both my dinner and my dignity.
Chapter Sixteen
Jilly, Keats and I walked through the meadow in silence. It was a cloudy, cool morning with a breeze that made us tuck our hands into our pockets. The grass rustled a bit under our boots, and a few stray moos, bleats, neighs and brays drifted out to us.
Asher had arrived in civvies in time for a generous breakfast that he followed with a generous offer to take the guests on a drive through the hills to see “the hotspots.” It was a surprise to me that we had any, and I may have gone along to be edified had I not been so desperate for downtime in nature with my two favorite souls on the planet.
After a long stretch of marching, Jilly laughed out loud. “It was fun seeing Asher walk Ben and Neal out to the van, wasn’t it? They couldn’t have been less interested in the autumn landscape but he was determined to give us a break.”
“Maybe he’s afraid I’m cracking under the pressure,” I said. “No doubt Kellan told him what happened last night in the fairground. That was the single most humiliating event of my life. The way I’m going, there will be worse.”
She patted my shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Throwing up after a roller coaster ride is so common they keep barf bags at the gate. I guess you didn’t notice that or my popcorn would have been saved.”
“I was too busy thanking the good Lord for getting me off that ride alive. Maybe I’d have been okay if I hadn’t seen Kellan with his date.”
The pat on my shoulder firmed into a reproof rather than a comfort. “All you know is that he took a ride with a woman at the fair.”
“With a gorgeous blonde woman.”
“Not that gorgeous. Her makeup was doing the heavy lifting.” She shook her head. “I don’t like to be catty about people I don’t know. All I can say is that Kellan was very solicitous of your health after your… episode.”
Indeed, he’d wanted to call an ambulance, and Jilly had to work hard to dissuade him.
“Thank you for convincing him it was just motion sickness,” I said. “I’m sure you had your doubts, too.”
“Keats told me you were fine,” she said, bending to pick up a stick to throw for him.
That made me smile. “Did he now?”
She nodded. “If you pay attention, that dog has a lot to say.”
Keats wagged in agreement. He wasn’t inclined to frivolity but after her vote of confidence, he raced after the stick, tail high, white plume showing above the long grass.
I stopped and pointed. “See that? Just before we spoke to Keats’ former owner, a vision just like this popped into my head. It’s my dream come true.” I turned to look at Jilly. “Except for the murders.”
She waved her hand to disperse a few gnats that had braved the chill. “Kellan will get this one sorted and the dream will get back up and running. We’ll bring in some cool new guests. Like a book club. Or a quilting society. Or oenophiles. Wouldn’t it be nice to learn about wine?”
“That sounds like heaven. But we can’t count on Kellan to get to the bottom of this anytime soon when he’s slacking on the roller coaster with his almost-gorgeous date.”
“Kellan’s not dating that woman,” she said. “You know I’m pretty much an expert on affairs of the heart. I didn’t see the signs on either one of them. Maybe it’s his sister.”
“He doesn’t have a sister,” I said. “But I do have news to share about another affair. I found out Wilf was having an affair with Avis Arron.”
Jilly stopped dead, letting the gnats swarm around her. “Avis, the senior vice president at Flordale?”
“The same. And she’s here in town. They met up two days early to enjoy the sights… and each other.”
Her green eyes narrowed. “How do you know all this, Ivy? Have you been off sleuthing while I babysit the vipers alone?”
“I poked around a bit when I was running errands, that’s all. Then I ended up at the Berry Good Café having a chat with Avis.”
“Oh my god,” Jilly said, as Keats dropped the stick in front of her hopefully. “You confronted Avis? Are you nuts? You’re supposed to call Kellan and let him do the dirty work.”
“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I know Avis personally. Do you want to argue or hear what she had to say?”
Her hand started fanning the gnats again and her boots moved forward. “Of course I want to hear every detail. Right after you assure me you told Kellan about this.”
“I left him a voicemail. And he left me one this morning saying that the autopsy results were back, and confirmed Wilf died of a blunt force injury. The cows are off the hook.”
“That’s a relief,” she said. “I’m getting fond of little Archie. I went into the barn to see him yesterday, you know.”
“Aw, Jilly, we’ll make a farmer of you yet.”
“Unlikely. I’m still far too interested in corporate politics. So get to the good stuff.”
I filled her in on my discussion with Avis, and when I got to the end, I said, “I wouldn’t rule out an angry husband in Wilf’s death, although her money is on Neal. Meanwhile, Neal seems to think his evidence about their affair would counter any move Flordale might make against him for leaking trade secrets.”
Her feet stopped moving again and she closed her eyes. “You cornered him on the roller coaster, didn’t you? That’s why you got sick.”
“Well, you try interrogating someone during a gravity-defying loop. I couldn’t keep my mind on that and my stomach at the same time.”
“Ivy, you are too much. I saw you whispering to Ben, too, and he looked very sheepish.”
Picking up the stick, I tossed it for Keats. He practically rolled his eyes because I didn’t have much of an arm, or aim for that matter. But he graciously trotted after it and retrieved it, making it clear he was just being nice.
“Ben admitted he lied to me about sleeping through the night of Wilf’s murder—although he claims he was honest with Kellan. He and Neal tried to stop Wilf from driving and they eventually got him back to bed. Obviously Wilf got a second wind and tried again, but Ben had his keys. The big question is who went out the second time and struck Wilf? And what did they hit him with? There’s no sign of a murder weapon yet.”
“Maybe Keats will find it out here,” Jilly said.
I shook my head. “No way this dog would be chasing sticks if there were clues to be found. He only plays when there’s no work.”
After a brief pause, Jilly said, “I hate to admit this, but I’ve been working on the women. Baking is so therapeutic. You’d be surprised what people will say when they’re up to their elbows in flour.”
“Why, Jilly Blackwood,” I said, grinning. “Do tell.”
The sun emerged suddenly as she grinned back at me. She took the stick and gave it a toss worthy of Keats’ effort. “Well, Kate and Macy really aren’t that bad. They became codependent in a tough environment to survive and don’t know how to break apart. Believe it or not, Wilf’s comments at that dinner were a wakeup call. They’ve asked for coaching on how to improve their corporate game.”
“Huh. And Nellie?”
“Immature and insecure,” Jilly said. “She’s had to fight for every break in life and it shows. Right now she’s not receptive to coaching, but give her time. I planted the seed.”
“That’s good of you, Jilly. I guess I should have done more when I worked with them. That last year was all about survival.”
“You did the best you could at the time,” she said. “At any rate, for all our heart-to-hearts, no one has made a single suspicious comment. They all seem truly glad to spend time together.”
“Just don’t let your guard down,” I said. “Paulette told me she didn’t know about Avis, and Avis said she did. So even my sweet admin is capable of lying. I understand why, but still… We’re not hearing everything.”
A long loud honk made us both jump. By this point we were on the crest of a small hill and I could see the farm below clearly. There was a black car in the parking area that looked fancy.
“Expecting someone in a Porsche?” Jilly asked.
“Nope. And I didn’t expect you to recognize a Porsche at a distance, either.”
“I’ve had some nice dates,” she said, as we started back. “Hot little sports cars like that are too hard to get in and out of in a skirt and heels.” She gave a little laugh. “I guess I’m not the Porsche type anymore.”
“I’m afraid not. If you’re dating my brother, you’re the pickup truck type.”
“I’m not dating your brother… yet. We hang out a little when we both have time, which as you know is not often. Maybe some day… When the murders end and the book clubs take over the inn.” She glanced at me with a sly grin. “Have you seen the hotties on his basketball team? Some of them make Kellan look merely average. If we ever get a night off, we could double date.”
It gave me a little pang that she was proposing new options for me. The mental wedding planning for Kellan and me had obviously screeched to a stop with the arrival of her roller-coaster-riding twin. There was nothing I could do but roll with it, so I did.
“I’m not permitted to date Asher’s friends, remember? Bro code.”
“Asher can’t enforce that if he’s dating your best friend. Just think about it. We could go square dancing. I saw a sign in town for it.”
I laughed. “Right. Because I’m so coordinated.” Keats was out ahead, trotting with purpose toward the new arrival. There was no sign of the stick-chasing pup now. “For now, I’ll stick with my good buddy, Keats. When I’m ready, I could pick up some tips about rotational dating from my mom.”
“Don’t even,” Jilly said, as we got closer. “Oh no. Is that who I think it is?”
Standing beside the low-slung Porsche coupe was a distinguished, silver-haired man in a dark suit. His arms were crossed and his face severe. Once, that frown had chilled me so much that I had to resist submissive peeing.
“What is Piers Frankel doing at Runaway Farm?” I said. “I can’t believe Flordale’s president would come all the way out here himself just for a staff murder.”
“Play it cool,” Jilly said. “He doesn’t own you anymore, Ivy.”
I swallowed hard. For 10 years, I watched this man in awe from the audience as he delivered motivational speeches. In fact, I’d never seen him outside the work context. It didn’t surprise me at all that he drove a black Porsche. What did surprise me was that the car gleamed in the sunshine despite the long gravel lane. Most vehicles arrived coated with dust. Were there advances in dust-repellants, or had he polished it himself while waiting for us?
“Why, Ivy Galloway,” he said, as we walked toward him. He forced his frown upside down, looking like an eerie marionette. “I’ve never seen you look better.”
I glanced down at my overalls and boots, wondering if they’d magically changed into Cinderella’s ball gown and glass slippers. My hair was bunched in a knot and there were dark rings under my eyes that would have defied makeup had I been inclined to apply it.
“Welcome to Runaway Farm, Mr. Frankel,” I said. “If I’ve never looked better, that’s sad to hear.”
“It must be the country air,” he said. “You’re practically glowing. I guess I expected something different, considering what’s happened since our team arrived.”
Ah. So I was supposed to be sitting in a puddle of tears over the public relations slam to Flordale, not hiking through the fields as if the world still turned on its axis.
“Mr. Frankel, have you met my friend, Jilly Blackwood? She’s the owner of the best headhunting firm in Boston and supplied many of your best recruits. Lucky for me, she’s also a gifted chef and has been helping me start up my new inn.”
He scanned Jilly from head to foot with cool, pale blue eyes and glanced away. “I’m familiar with your firm, Ms. Blackwood. Perhaps we’ll chat later, after Ivy gives me a tour of the property.”
Summarily dismissed, Jilly squeezed my forearm for luck and walked toward the house. It felt like a gust of frosty air hit me as she left, but I still had Keats. He was practically sitting on my feet, his posture erect, his ears folded back. I didn’t need to see the dog’s tail to know that Piers Frankel got a failing grade in the character department. That was no shock. Piers was known for being even more ruthless than Wilf, but without the clumsy buffoonery. In battle, Wilf’s choice of weapon would be an axe, whereas Piers would slice you with a dagger before you ever saw the blade.
And now he wanted an exclusive tour of my farm. Well, Piers Frankel used to be top dog in my corporate life, but here at Runaway Farm, I was top dog and I had
a great dog backing me. I could do this.
I patted the bulky front pocket of my bibbed overalls to make sure my phone was there. It had become a repository for everything I might need during the day, from a leash to sunglasses, making my outfit of choice even less flattering.
“Let’s start with the barn,” I said, pulling out my old corporate team player smile.
“Must we?” he said. “My shoes… They’re Italian leather.”
“Don’t say that in front of the cows,” I said, before realizing how it sounded. “Oops. That’s nothing to joke about after what happened to Wilf. I’m sorry, Mr. Frankel.”
“Call me Piers,” he said. “And it’s okay, Ivy. I heard you got hit on the head, too.”
“I do blurt things out sometimes, I’m afraid.” I led him in through the wide double doors. “Your shoes should be fine. Charlie’s already mucked out. That said, my animals produce constantly. Did you know that there’s money in manure, Mr. Frankel? I’m thinking of starting a Runaway Farm black label. But manure management can’t be taken lightly. There’s an art to it.”
He turned and his pale eyes widened at my nervous babbling. “You were always so reticent, Ivy.”
“Guess it’s that fresh country air.” More like past trauma. In just a few months the memories of my misery at Flordale had faded considerably but they rushed back now. He was there the day Avis Arron told me I had to do the mass firings. He witnessed my epiphany, when I realized I couldn’t be Flordale’s grim reaper anymore. He saw me lay down my metaphorical scythe and bolt.
My breathing was fast and shallow until Keats shoved his head under my left hand. It was like a life buoy and time slowed down again. After a few seconds, he moved out to circle and stare at Piers. The dog was fast, low and definitely uneasy—as if there were a coyote near his sheep pasture.
More like a wolf, because Piers was no scruffy coyote.
I started to introduce Florence, the blind mare, but Piers kept walking, straight through the back door. His eyes were on the floor to preserve his footwear.
