Bought the Farm Mysteries Books 1-3

by Ellen Riggs

  “Chief Harper will get to the bottom of it quickly, I’m sure.” Nadine stopped at the corner and people flowed around us, blatantly staring. “You two were an item once, I heard.”

  Heat rushed toward my hairline, proving my poker face didn’t hold up to romantic scrutiny. “We dated for a bit in high school, that’s all.”

  “Well, I hope things turn out better for you than they did for me,” Nadine said, straightening her shoulders again and replacing her shades. “I guess it couldn’t get much worse. My husband was murdered and everyone thinks I did it. Or at least arranged it.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “Some people think I did it.”

  She ignored that. “As you can imagine, my business calls are already down, and I need money. The estate probably won’t be resolved anytime soon.”

  “Business will pick up as soon as they target a new suspect, I’m sure. Then you can buy your pup.”

  “A purebred West Highland terrier, I’m thinking,” she said. “Terriers kill rodents and reptiles, right?”

  “Sounds like a good choice for that. In the meantime, I’ll pop by and make sure Lloyd’s exotic treasures survive till you move them.”

  This time we both shuddered at the same moment. Keats also shook himself head to tail, as if he’d been doused in water.

  Nadine laughed. “That is quite a dog you have there.”

  “I hope to say the same to you, soon.”

  An older woman gave us a wide berth, as if getting too close would contaminate her. She clucked disparagingly and then squinted over her shoulder. Keats’ ruff went up but I murmured “Settle.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be,” Nadine said, sighing. “It was bad enough being married to a cheater and a corrupt dogcatcher. It took ages to get the courage to split. And now this.”

  “Hang in there, Nadine. I have full confidence in Chief Harper figuring it all out.”

  She gave me a last, sad look as she turned to walk away. “Never put all your confidence in a man, Ivy. You’ll be up to your eyeballs in snakes before you know it.”

  “You’re probably right,” I called after her. “I’ll just stick with Keats.”

  Her right thumb came up over her shoulder, but she kept walking.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be,” I said to Keats, repeating Nadine’s words as we took a stool at the coffee bar in Myrtle’s Store. While I was placing my order, the Hodgsons had gathered their crossword puzzle and slipped away. Fred gave me a friendly wave from the parking lot, before driving off in their old red sedan. They were one of the few families in town who preferred a car to a truck.

  Myrtle dropped off a huge helping of apple crisp with an equally large scoop of ice cream. “That would feed four,” I said.

  “You look like you need it,” she answered, with a grandmotherly pat on the back. “Eat, girl.”

  “It’s been a tough day. After a tougher night.” I smoothed the ice cream with the tines of the fork. “I assume you heard.”

  “About Lloyd Boyce meeting his maker in your rye field? Of course.” She perched on the stool beside mine, and I marveled again at how great she looked for her age. “No one’s too broken up about it, I’m afraid. Lloyd didn’t have many friends.”

  “But I’m under investigation. As if I’d kill a man over a fine from Animal Services. As if I could choke someone even if I wanted to.”

  “Choking?” Her sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Is that how it happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, quickly. “Asher was probably joking. You know how he is. That certainly isn’t official.”

  “Well, you’ll be cleared soon enough. And Mandy will, too. Your high school sweetheart has already called her to come down to the station.”

  “Mandy? She’s even less likely to kill someone than I am.”

  Myrtle nodded. “True.”

  I wasn’t thrilled that she agreed so quickly, but I probably had a reputation as a wild card after my dramatic rescue of Keats.

  “Well, I didn’t,” I said. “Murder Lloyd.”

  “I know that. In fact, I’d stake my store on the notion that none of the Galloway girls could murder anyone. Maybe that’s why your mom named all of you after flowers.”

  Keats had moved under the counter and wedged himself between my knees. The stress of the day must be wearing on him, too.

  “Mom,” I said. “Oh no.”

  Myrtle smiled as she got up to respond to a bellow from the counter. “Haven’t told her yet? Oh, to be a fly on the wall when Dahlia hears about this.”

  “No need to be mean, Myrtle,” I said, starting in on the apple crisp with more appetite than I expected.

  “Just remind her no one liked Lloyd,” Myrtle called back. “Remind her how many good dogs he sent to death row.”

  I chewed and the sweet oaty goodness lifted my spirits along with my blood sugar. “I’ll send her to talk to you,” I called back. “I’m already in the doghouse for buying a farm.”

  “You do that,” she said, chuckling as she circled the counter. “Dahlia Galloway doesn’t scare me one bit.”

  Chapter Eight

  I expected Lloyd’s exotic reptile sanctuary to be a shabby dump, but I’d forgotten that Nadine had lived here, too, until a year ago. In fact, it was a lovely home that reflected well on her job as a real estate agent. There was thick brush on either side of the property that shielded it from neighbors, but the grounds were lovely, with lush grass and large beds full of perennials. The landscaping was a bit overgrown, as if Lloyd hadn’t been getting his hands dirty lately in legitimate ways.

  It was still an hour or more till sunset but the brush was decidedly dusky. I drove a good way down the road and then backed the truck into the scrubby pines with difficulty, sustaining at least one dent in the process. It was pockmarked with past transgressions anyway, not all of them mine.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go,” I told Keats. “You can come into the house, but I don’t want you in the reptile room. I have no idea what he’s got in there, but if something were to get loose it could come after you. No way am I risking that, buddy.”

  Keats stared at me earnestly and placed one white paw on my arm.

  “No begging. It’s beneath you.” I opened the door and jumped down in the brush. “Besides, standing watch is an important role. You need to let me know if anyone comes near the house. Don’t be subtle about it.”

  He leapt out of the truck and gave a little yip of agreement.

  “Good. We’ve got a deal. Let’s get in and get out. Remember, if I scream, it’s probably only because I’m so disgusted. Don’t overreact and call in the authorities, okay?”

  Forging ahead of me through the bushes, he turned his blue eye, as if to say he knew a real scream from a girlish shriek.

  We emerged not far from the side door of the house, where a three foot high statue of Buddha sat peacefully on the small porch. It looked heavy, but Nadine had told me it tipped back easily to reveal a spare key. At least, if Lloyd hadn’t moved it.

  Luckily, he hadn’t, and soon it sat damp and cold in the palm of my hand. Keats and I both turned to stare down the driveway, and then we both cocked our heads to right and left to listen. Now we were starting to mirror each other.

  “Coast is clear,” I said, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “I’m going to cover my tracks so that Chief High and Mighty can save his lecture for someone else.”

  I let myself into the house and used my phone flashlight to show me the way upstairs. I’d decided to collect the food before I went into the reptile room. There was a very good chance that having gone in, I might not have the guts to return with dinner.

  The kitchen was as Lloyd must have left it, with a cereal bowl and spoon in the sink, and a mug with leftover coffee that was already clouding with mold. I paused for a second, wondering what someone would see in my kitchen if I happened to pass away right now. From a snakebite, perhaps. Then I remembered that Jilly was there making di
nner, no doubt spreading the mess from one end of the kitchen to the other. She was an amazing cook, but orderly, she was not.

  A cold wet nose touched my hand as Keats reminded me of my job. “Right,” I said. “Bugs and mice.”

  Opening the fridge door, I cringed. On the top shelf, three mice lay in a plastic dish with their tails draped over the side.

  “Poor things,” I said. “Bred to end up inside a snake. Do you know how similar to us they are genetically, Keats? Very similar. To humans, I mean. Not sure about border collies.”

  He nudged me again. “I know. It’s not the time for philosophizing. Better to focus on the fact that there are three mice, and therefore likely three mouths to feed downstairs. These have been sitting here for a couple of days. Maybe I should offer them something fresher.”

  I was about to close the door and open the freezer when I noticed the plate on the bottom shelf. It held an array of baked goods, including brownies, blueberry squares and the apple cheesecake I’d loved.

  “So it was probably true about Mandy and Lloyd,” I said. “Otherwise, he couldn’t get his hands on the treats from every day of the week. It’s a shame he didn’t see fit to cover them in properly when they shared a fridge with dead mice.” I leaned over to see what was in the jar on the second shelf. “And crickets.”

  Again came the nudge. Keats’ blue eye gleamed eerily in the dim kitchen, and I sighed. “This is dirty business, my friend. I regret getting involved.” I grabbed the jar of bugs and then opened the freezer door. Sure enough, there was a bin of dead mice large enough to fill the whole space. No wonder Nadine had left.

  I plucked three more mice out of the bin and put them in a clean bowl that was on the counter. My stomach didn’t turn easily and it held steady now. The mice were just food, I told myself, like the oats I fed Florence, the horse.

  “Let’s go,” I said, turning to head out of the kitchen.

  Flashing my light around the living room, I groaned. There was a large cage of white mice in the far corner. Live snake food. I’d have to feed them on the way out.

  Keats walked ahead of me on the stairs to the first landing, but when we turned down the second flight, he fell back, keeping close to my leg.

  At the foot of the basement stairs was an open area with dark-paneled walls. One of them concealed the door to the reptile room. I took a wild guess that it was the one covered with Lloyd’s high school award pennants—from his glory days, before he became a pariah. Stepping forward, I ran my fingers along the edge of the panel where it met the wall and found the little notch that allowed it to slide back and reveal a door. I’d feared more locks but there was just a simple clasp. Far too simple for what the room contained, if you asked me.

  Leading Keats back to the foot of the stairs, I hooked his leash over the railing. “Stay. I’m going to be fine.”

  The little squeak in my voice made Keats tilt his head to one side. I’d trained squeaks and squawks out of my voice long ago, in my first HR job. Squeaks showed weakness. But surely the exception to all rules was snakes, not to mention other potentially poisonous reptiles.

  I took a cautious step inside the room and closed the door behind me. It was bright inside from all the heat lamps, so I switched off my light and slid the phone into my pocket. A dank, musty smell filled my nostrils and the heat made me gasp. Maybe it was just the confined, seemingly airless space, or maybe reptiles stank. What if one of the three had refused its last mouse and it was rotting in there?

  Over a dozen glass tanks in various sizes lined the walls, but the snakes had pride of place. Three large terrariums sat directly ahead of me, each of which contained a coiled snake. Two of the inhabitants were brilliant yellow, and the third was sort of a leopard print.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said to no one, since Keats was no longer nearby. “Three snakes, three mice. How hard can it be? Then a sprinkling of bugs to the lesser reptiles and arachnids.”

  My feet didn’t get the memo. They stayed planted as I stared across the room.

  “It’s the right thing to do. It’s not their fault they were born snakes.”

  Finally my feet complied, and I moved to the smallest tank first, the one with the leopard print snake. That one seemed kind of average, and less likely to cast a spell over me.

  I moved the glass top back ever-so-slowly, keeping an eye on the snake. It raised its head and flicked its tongue but otherwise stayed in a tight coil. After a second or two of careful observation, I picked up one of the frozen mice by the tail with my gloved hand and dropped it inside. The snake pretended not to notice as I closed the lid, which made me think defrosted might have been the better way to go.

  Snake number two was the smaller of the golden snakes, and it looked to be a good eight feet long. I hoped I wouldn’t have reason to find out. Again, it did nothing but flick its tongue as I eased the lid back and tossed in dinner. Like the first snake, it ignored the mouse. No one likes an audience, I figured. Once I was gone that mouse would become a bump in a long log.

  The snake in the center of the shelf was clearly the queen among reptiles. This one had to be 18 feet long. It was far thicker than the others, and decidedly less sluggish. When I moved in front of its domain, it began to slither slowly from one end of its massive case to the other. My heart picked up the pace in what felt like a primal response. Long ago, my cavewoman ancestors would have run screaming at that undulating movement.

  Once it coiled itself over a rock at the far end, I braced myself to toss in the mouse. This snake seemed hungry and I’d have to be nimble.

  Just as I was about to slide open the glass lid, something caught my eye. Directly underneath the opening was a piece of driftwood as twisty and oddly elegant as the snake itself. In the shadow beneath one smooth curve hung a slightly tarnished key.

  I looked from the snake to the key and back. Lloyd was freaking brilliant. I hadn’t given him nearly enough credit. This key obviously secured something of real value—something he didn’t want anyone to find. And he’d left it under the watchful eyes of a genuine serpent.

  Well, he couldn’t foil me that easily. If this key could lead me to something that would save my farm, my animal family and my future, I would brave the serpent. I just needed to think it through.

  I peeled off the gloves, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and tapped three words into Google: big yellow snake. The first result gave a positive ID. It was an albino Burmese python.

  “Not venomous,” I said aloud. “The worst it could do is squeeze me to death, and it would have to make a full escape to do that.”

  The big snake was a bit spirited, but as long as I kept my wits about me, I could drop the mouse at her end to distract her and then grab the key. All I needed was a stool to give me better access.

  There was one in the corner that Lloyd probably used for exactly the same purpose. I put my gloves back on and set the stool in position in front of the key. Then I moved over to ease back the lid over the snake. Dropping in the mouse, I whispered, “Take it, take it, take it” as I closed the lid.

  The snake waited a moment or two and then began coiling around the mouse. Perfect. Hopping onto the stool, I took a long shaky breath. Then I opened the other end of the case and reached inside. Even with the stool, I could barely reach the key. Lloyd had much longer arms than I did. Standing on tiptoe, I finally managed to catch it between my gloved fingertips. As I did, the snake left her prey, perhaps attracted by the movement of my hand. She slithered with surprising speed for such a big creature and for a moment I was mesmerized.

  A sharp bark outside brought me to my senses. I pulled my hand out, still holding the key, and slid the lid back. The snake’s head hit the lid a second later, and my heart felt like it exploded. I fell backwards off the stool and onto the tiled floor.

  Keats scratched at the door with a long whine.

  “I’m okay, buddy,” I said, leaping to my feet. No way was I prolonging my time on the floor in a room full of snake
s. Picking up the key, I slipped it into my pocket. Then I hastily sprinkled some crickets into the smaller terrariums that housed an iguana, the terrifying tarantula, and various other four-legged beasties I didn’t have time to google.

  It was a strange day when a large lizard with spikes didn’t faze me at all. Compared to the queen of snakes, this was a pussycat.

  Keats jumped on me as I left, something he was normally far too well-mannered to do. “All good,” I said, closing the door and the wall panel carefully. “Let’s explore upstairs. Lloyd’s got something hidden around here and maybe someone wanted it badly enough to murder him to get it.”

  Although he fell behind on the stairs to avoid tripping me, Keats circled me repeatedly when we reached the living room. He was trying to herd me out of there, to safety. I appreciated his concern but if I didn’t take this chance I might not get another.

  Aside from the live mice, which I fed with seed from a bin on the floor, the living room was just a typical man cave with black leather couches and a huge TV that probably postdated Nadine’s departure. I moved to the first bedroom, where the pretty bed linens still showed a woman’s touch. There was only one cupboard, and the door wasn’t locked. Inside hung women’s clothing, which Nadine had probably forgotten about. Pushing it aside, I shone the light around and saw nothing unusual.

  Lloyd’s bedroom was next, and my stomach, already queasy from the snake encounter, roiled even more. It felt terribly wrong to be here. Directing the light in a quick arc, I saw a big wooden chest and a doubled-doored closet—both candidates for the key clutched in my glove. Keeping the phone light pressed to my midriff so that no one outside could see me roaming around, I moved toward them. Then something on the dresser caught my eye: a framed photo of a woman with two small boys. Even in the dim light they looked familiar.

  As I grabbed the photo for a closer look, Keats gave another whine, this time much sharper. It was a warning—make that an order. He’d turned to the front of the house and his ears tipped forward in sharp points. I heard the distant crunch of footsteps on gravel.