Bought the Farm Mysteries Books 1-3

by Ellen Riggs

  My phone rang and I dug it out of the deep front pocket of the overalls I’d initially viewed with skepticism but soon come to love. I was glad to leave corporate suits behind; you could truly breathe in overalls.

  “Runaway Farm,” I said, without checking call display. “Ivy speaking.”

  The perky voice on the other end startled me. I took a sudden step backwards and planted my foot in Florence’s perfectly timed dump of fresh manure. The caller was my former second-in-command, Keri Browning. When I left my HR manager role—with the insultingly small buy-out that barely helped fund this farm—Keri had stepped into my shoes. Even though I was happy with the farm, my ego rose up out of its bottle and spun like a genie at the memory of how I was wronged. We hadn’t spoken since the handoff, because the company was normally adamant about severing ties.

  “We miss you,” Keri said, after the exchange of pleasantries. “I heard you opened an inn on a farm.”

  “Soon,” I said. “Just putting the final touches on everything.”

  “You always were a perfectionist. Your records were meticulous, and I’m grateful for that.”

  “I’ve had to surrender to imperfection here.” I stared down at my right boot, which had all but disappeared into the fresh horse dung. “But I look forward to sharing the farm experience with visitors soon.” I tried out my marketing spiel on her. “The scenery is breathtaking and it seems like there’s a country fair every week. It’s going to be an amazing getaway for anyone who wants to escape the concrete jungle.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m calling,” Keri said. “You know how we normally do our team retreat down south? Well, we just lost our hotel because of a toxic seaweed problem. So I figured why not do something completely different and get the farm experience instead.”

  My eyes scanned the barn in alarm. “You want to come here?”

  “We’d love to see you and support your new project. Can you accommodate twelve of us?”

  There was no love lost between me and Flordale Corporation. On the other hand, guests might be hard to find in the next while, and my former colleagues were probably good for a trial run.

  “There’s room at the inn,” I said, laughing. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to say that. When are you thinking?”

  “End of September,” Keri said. “In three weeks. You’ll be open by then, right?”

  “I can do that. But you’ll be in my first cohort of guests, Keri. I can guarantee good food, fresh air and fun, but definitely not perfection.”

  Wilma the pig chose that moment to unleash an ear-piercing squeal outside to demand her breakfast.

  “What was that?” Keri finally asked.

  “Wilma. My pig. You’re going to love her. Think about the team-building opportunities with real livestock. I’ll get creative.”

  Keri’s enthusiasm faded a bit as we firmed up the details, and by the time I hung up, Charlie was grinning. “Those city slickers are in for a shock,” he said, winking. “Especially after you tell them about the murder.”

  “I have a ton of things to sort out before then,” I said. “Including figuring out exactly what happened to Lloyd Boyce.”

  I’d conducted a thousand job interviews before, but never in a barn while wearing overalls. Charlie had gone into town, but Keats was at my side, ready to pass judgement on the three candidates I’d shortlisted. Since rescuing the dog, I’d grown confident in reading his body language. Bright eyes, perky ears, lolling tongue and a raised tail meant someone passed with flying colors. A head tilt meant the person had something to prove but he was giving them the benefit of the doubt. Drooping ears and tail declared a big, stinky fail. I’d make my own assessment while he sniffed around and then confirm it with a glance at my genius dog.

  I’d hit the jackpot once when I rescued Keats, and again when I was practically gifted this farm. Lloyd’s demise in my rye field had just broken my lucky streak, however. There’d be no coasting for either of us.

  “I’m versatile,” Tina Hollen said, picking her way carefully through the puddles between the house and the barn. It hadn’t rained in a few days but the gravel path had stayed damp. “I love the whole idea of an inn on a farm.”

  The sad look she gave her suede pumps said otherwise. She was applying for a position inside the inn, but I was hoping for someone more versatile. Someone who’d change bed linens, serve a meal and then toss out some scraps for the pig at the end of their shift. Maybe it was asking too much, but I’d aim high to start and settle if necessary.

  “Wonderful,” I said. “Tell me more about your experience in hospitality.”

  Tina offered some canned messages while I watched her body language. She flicked her long brown hair a lot and didn’t meet my eyes. Her mouth worked like a puppet and her forced smile slipped away again and again. When Keats got close enough to sniff her, she moved away.

  Fail. I didn’t need to see the dog’s tail drop to know it. But I had to give Tina another 10 minutes for the sake of her pride and my reputation as a reasonable employer.

  “The only thing that worries me,” Tina confided, “is that there’s a murderer running around here.”

  I pulled out my poker face and slapped it on. “A murderer?”

  She gave up on the effort to smile. “Everyone knows Lloyd Boyce died here last night.”

  “Everyone?” My voice had a raspy edge that made Keats tilt his head. Sometimes it seemed like he could read my mind but he was probably just a good observer of human nature.

  “People talk in Clover Grove,” she said, shrugging. “They already talked about Lloyd, and now he’s really newsworthy.”

  Keats circled around to my right side and offered his ears for a scratch. Normally he walked on my left but when emotions ran high, he migrated to my dominant hand. All the better to administer emotional first aid. He might not have aced therapy dog classes but he delivered excellent service in his unique way.

  “What did people say about Lloyd?” I asked. “I knew him in high school but that was 15 years ago.”

  “Well, they say he only talked the talk for the County and didn’t always follow the rules himself.” Tina looked around, as if the livestock might have ears. In fact, the two cows hung their heads over the fence, as if eavesdropping. “I heard he wasn’t faithful to Nadine and she was kicking him hard in the divorce.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “I would imagine Nadine will tell the police all about that. I’m just concerned that Lloyd… passed away… here at Runaway Farm.” Looking up at the sky, I shivered. A cloud had blocked the sun and the breeze felt chilly without its rays. “I hope that doesn’t scare off potential guests.”

  Tina shook her head. “Probably not. I’m sure plenty of people wanted Lloyd to… go away.”

  “To go away, yes, I could see that,” I said, opening Tina’s car door so that she could climb in. “But surely no one wanted him actually dead.”

  “Lots of people wanted Lloyd dead,” said Joel Carter, a few minutes into his interview a half hour later. “He seized dogs that didn’t deserve it. A lot of them. And that broke hearts.”

  “I had no idea it was that bad,” I said.

  “He was rougher than he needed to be with that catchpole. It was hard to see.”

  I reached for Keats’ ears again. “What’s a catchpole?”

  “A noose on a stick, basically. All dogcatchers use them but Lloyd seemed to enjoy it like a sport.”

  “That’s so sad. It sounds inhumane. No wonder people got upset.”

  “Tempers run high when pets are involved,” he said.

  Joel had a ready smile, a head of auburn curls and a can-do attitude. He was young, fit and comfortable around livestock. Plus he worked part-time down at the Berry Best Café and knew his way around a kitchen and dining room.

  Keats declared him a winner without meeting the remaining candidate, and his tail beat steadily as he followed Joel around.

  “This dog rocks,” Joel said, bending to pat Kea
ts. Normally Keats resisted premature familiarity but Joel was permitted—nay, invited—to scratch his ears. “That blue eye is like a probe. Good thing I got nothing to hide.”

  “Keats didn’t seem to like what he saw in Lloyd,” I said. “It sounds like he raised hackles wherever he went.”

  “True,” Joel said. “But he could charm the ladies when he wanted to. I saw that at the café often enough. He even got them to pick up the tab sometimes.”

  I shook my head. “They must not have had dogs. There’s no better judge of character.”

  “True again,” Joel said, as we walked back to his beat-up old Jeep. “I heard someone nearly shot Lloyd once when he tried to seize their farm dog. Maybe this time they pulled the trigger.”

  “Someone did shoot Lloyd Boyce once,” said Gwen Quinn as we toured the pastures an hour later. “Grazed his shin right above the boot. You probably noticed the limp.”

  “I didn’t, actually. Why would someone shoot him?”

  Holding up her left hand, Gwen starting counting. “One, he seized good dogs. Two, he caused trouble with bogus fines. Three, he lied and bilked good friends. Four, he fooled around on his wife.” She paused with her thumb still in the air. “I could go on, but this chat is supposed to be about me. I want a job helping Charlie in the barn and field.”

  Gwen was likely in her early fifties, with short salt-and-pepper hair, and sharp brown eyes. She was the only applicant to wear jeans and work boots, which told me a lot. There was a no-nonsense air about her that I liked. Keats, however, was reserving judgement. He stayed out of reach with his head tilting from one side to the other.

  “Gwen, I read your resume and you’re way overqualified. Why would you want a position like this?”

  Her smile said she wanted to pat me on the head. “You’re new here, Ivy. Or new again. You’ll see soon enough that it’s hard to find work in Clover Grove. Many of us have to cobble a few jobs together to make ends meet. I work part-time at Myrtle’s Store and at a vet’s office doing cleanup. I’ve juggled up to five jobs successfully and my references are good.” She looked around and took in a deep breath. “An outdoor job suits me perfectly. I have special expertise in sheep.”

  That made me smile. “How so?”

  “I’m in the Clover Grove Herding Club.” She looked down at Keats. “I have a genius dog just like this, only with two brown eyes.”

  Keats’ left ear came up in partial approval and the tip of his tail waved slightly. She was winning him over. Apparently flattery worked even on genius dogs.

  “We did some herding training before we moved here,” I said. “Keats loved it.”

  “Come out to our trial next week,” Gwen said. “If you enjoy it, maybe you’ll join the club.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said. There was a low moo of disapproval and Heidi, the black-and- white Holstein, pawed the grass. She was always the most opinionated. “If I can get away, that is. I have my first guests coming in three weeks and a ton of work before then. My main goal today is to find indoor staff, to be honest. Charlie mostly has the farm covered, but I need help with cooking, serving and housekeeping.”

  Gwen shook her head. “I’m already trapped inside more than I’d like. But when you’re ready for a backup out here, give me a call.”

  I walked her to the parking area and thanked her for coming out. “I’ll keep in touch,” I said.

  Climbing into her old truck, she frowned. “Be careful, Ivy. I don’t know what happened with Lloyd, but keep your eyes open.”

  “Will do.” Smiling, I gestured to the driveway. “Luckily, I’ve got a guardian angel.”

  She nodded when she saw the police SUV coming down the lane, and then pulled out with a wave. On her rear bumper was a cute little decal of a black sheep.

  “We landed a good one with Joel, Keats,” I said, walking over to the police car. “But what we really need is a chef. Because my cooking will scare the guests more than murder.”

  Chapter Six

  I smoothed my hair and straightened my overalls when I saw Kellan behind the wheel, but before I could get my game face on, the back door of the squad car opened and a blonde whirlwind appeared. Jilly Blackwood covered the few yards between us in three bounds and wrapped me up in a fierce hug that would have swept me off my feet if she hadn’t been four inches shorter and 20 pounds lighter. Still, she was quite a force.

  “You didn’t need to come,” I said, when she finally released me. “But I’m so glad you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was more fun this way,” she said, grinning. “I got to call the police station and ask for Officer Galloway. I figured he’d help me surprise you.”

  Asher was standing beside the SUV with a foolish grin on his face. Jilly won fans wherever she went and my brother appeared to be particularly susceptible to her charms.

  Kellan Harper, however, was clearly immune. He got out of the driver’s seat and looked down at the barn as if the frivolity was not only beneath him but embarrassing.

  “How long are you staying?” I asked. “I was just telling Keats I needed a good chef. My first guests are booked and if I’m in the kitchen, more people could die.”

  Kellan looked at me and frowned. “Really? Death jokes?”

  Jilly frowned back at Kellan, a rare enough occurrence, although he didn’t know that. “She’s been through a lot, Chief Harper. You could cut her some slack.”

  “It’s okay, Jilly,” I said. “He’s writing a book on crime scene etiquette and I guess murder jokes are filed under the ‘don’ts.’”

  Kellan rolled his eyes before glancing out toward the meadows where his staff were probably still working. I didn’t know for sure because they’d driven SUVs and a truck right into the fields and were out of sight.

  Normally Asher would have jumped in to squelch me, but he was too busy gaping at Jilly. She was wearing a pretty sundress with strappy Mary Jane shoes, and there was a woven basket purse on her arm. Her hair was flowing in loose waves, versus her normal sleek blowout. I guess she thought that was country casual, but as her green eyes scanned my overalls and work boots, she almost paled. She’d been thinking upscale country inn, and the reality of a working hobby farm hit her like a ton of cow dung.

  “I’m staying as long as you need me,” she said, with a resigned smile. “I cannot wait to see this fancy kitchen because I’ve been upping my egg game, like you asked. Now, who are your first guests?”

  I sucked in a breath and steeled myself. “My old team from Flordale. All 12 of them.”

  Jilly rarely lost her cool but today her face flushed bright red. “Ivy Galloway, are you crazy? Those people are vipers! Wilf Darby treated you disgracefully—and after you’d been a model employee for 10 years running.”

  “I wanted to leave anyway, remember? I didn’t want to fire people anymore. I was tired of being called the grim reaper.”

  “They should have let you go with class and a great package after your stellar service.” She paced back and forth in front of me until dust coated her Mary Janes. “Instead, Wilf used the media attention you got from saving Keats against you. He said you’d lost your judgment, when you’d just survived a violent attack. He let you go before you could quit. You could have and should have sued him. Then you’d have a decent nest egg to get this place launched so you wouldn’t have to welcome vipers into your home.”

  Asher and Kellan stepped away from the force of Jilly’s tirade but I stood my ground. “It’ll be fine, Jilly. Better than fine, now that you’re here to feed the vipers.”

  “When exactly are these vipers arriving?” Kellan said, turning to face me.

  “Three weeks. That’s plenty of time for you to solve Lloyd’s murder, right?”

  Annoyance flickered across his handsome face. In the bright sunlight today, I noticed the white scar along his jawline that hadn’t been there before. There was another at his temple that ran into his thick, dark hair.

  “You can’t rush a murder inves
tigation, Ivy,” he said. “It takes as long as it takes. My lead investigator is off on leave, so I’m shorthanded, too.”

  “Guess you shouldn’t have turned down Keats’ offer,” I said, trying to make him smile and failing.

  Jilly smiled for him. “This dog is a genius, Chief Harper. I wouldn’t write him off like that.”

  “Great, two of you now,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, I need to ask you a few more questions, Ivy. Shall we go into the house?”

  “Ask me here,” I said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t want Jilly to hear.”

  “She has a right to her own headhunter,” Jilly said, grinning.

  Asher looked at me with dazed blue eyes. “She’s funny. And she can cook, too?”

  Kellan withered him with a stare. “Officer Galloway. You are on duty.”

  “What do you want to know, Kellan?” I asked. “Let’s finish up, so I can get Jilly settled.”

  He took a few steps closer, and the sudden intensity of his gaze startled me. “I’d like to know where you were yesterday at approximately five p.m.”

  “That’s when Lloyd died,” Asher added.

  “Where I was? Does that mean you think I had something to do with Lloyd’s murder?” A flutter of panic started in my belly and my hand dropped to my side to find Keats’ head. It was there, like it always was in tough moments.

  Jilly flew to attack like an irate hen. “How dare you accuse Ivy of murdering this dogcatcher that everyone in the whole town hated.” She stomped over to stare up at Kellan. “She has more integrity than anyone I’ve ever met, and trust me, I’ve met a lot of slimy people. Maybe as many as you, although most of the ones I know wear suits.”