by Ellen Riggs
“That’s almost never true, no matter how discreet you think you are. I saw literally dozens of affairs exposed over my decade in HR. For Wilf, the VP of HR, getting caught in a relationship with his superior would be a career killer.”
“Untrue,” she said, snapping her glasses back down on her nose. “It’s only a problem when the man is in the senior position. It could hardly be said that he exploited me.”
“I doubt the president would see it that way. Regardless, one of you would have been asked to leave the company, I’m sure.”
“You don’t know everything, Ivy Galloway,” she said. “We had a plan and it would have worked out just fine if your cows hadn’t stomped all over it.”
“Let’s assume the police are right and it wasn’t my cows,” I said. “Who else might have ended Wilf’s life?”
Lifting her glasses again, she tried to intimidate me with the executive stare. “I heard your mother threatened him. How about you interrogate her?”
Now I smiled. “Trust me, I did. And the police did, too. How about the other members of my team?” I shook my head. “My former team. I can’t believe any of them would be capable of such a thing.”
She gave a huffy sigh. “If it comes to that, all of them probably had motive, including you. That’s because you misjudged Wilf. He just wanted the best for the company and you took it so personally. Wilf and I were totally committed to Flordale. Meanwhile, the second you heard you’d have to deliver bad news for the company, you bolted. I was so disappointed in you. It was terribly unprofessional.”
A mixture of fury and shame percolated in my gut but my mask was locked in place. “You were thinking about the company, whereas I was thinking about the staff I’d have to fire. The lives I’d have to ruin. You do know Wilf called me the grim reaper, right? Avis, I just couldn’t do that anymore. It was a personal decision.”
Her hand left the ring and gave a dismissive wave. “All of you were constantly whining. Ben Miller complained about bullying—as if anyone could bully a giant. The two that look like birds of prey complained about harassment—as if Wilf could ever be interested in them. And then there was the bubble gum popper who wobbled around in tight leather and griped because she wasn’t promoted fast enough. Optics are everything if you want to be taken seriously as a woman in a man’s world.” She smoothed her hair. “You understood that. I always respected your professionalism… until your breakdown. And over a dog, no less.”
She looked at said dog and he stared back. Something startled her, and she pushed her chair back. Keats never moved a muscle.
“What about Neal and Paulette?” I asked. “You’ve lumped everyone else into the category of suspects.”
“Paulette’s a sweetheart,” she said, which told me our admin assistant had been covering for them. “But Neal Fife should be the cops’ first stop. Wilf found out he was sharing Flordale trade secrets with the competition. He was going to fire him right after the retreat.”
“Really?” I tried to conceal my surprise and likely failed. “Did Neal know?”
She put her ring back on her finger and shook her head. “Wilf didn’t want to ruin the party for the rest of you. He was so thoughtful that way.”
“Well, he was pretty drunk the first night at my farm,” I said. “Maybe it slipped out, either before or after he rammed his Corvette into my truck. I assume he was on his way to see you.”
“We didn’t have plans.” Her voice was crisper than the fall air. “In fact, I explicitly told him not to come over.”
“And yet he was behind the wheel in his pajamas, bathrobe and slippers. A lover’s quarrel, perhaps?”
She let her shades slip down her nose. “Don’t make something of nothing, Ivy. He was tipsy when he called and I told him not to drive. It’s shame he hit your truck and visited your cows in that condition but regardless, this is all your fault.”
“My fault? How is it my fault?”
“How could it be anything but your fault? He was so distressed that you left the team he wanted to come and win you back to Flordale.”
I gasped. “That’s not true! He did nothing but insult me from the time he arrived.”
“Oh, you know how men are,” she said, rising from her seat. “They hate to admit they were wrong.” She was halfway across the patio before she added, “You should never have let him drink that much, Ivy. You have a responsibility as an innkeeper to keep your guests safe. I am holding you personally accountable for all of this. Trust that I’ll share my views about your new venture widely if you share any of your ridiculous notions.”
“So now you’re threatening me?” I called after her.
She stopped and spun around. “There you go, getting all emotional again. You were of so much more use to us when you behaved like a robot. Flordale needs more people like the old you. Honestly, I can’t wait till artificial intelligence takes over routine operations like hiring and firing. Now, go back to your farm and try to keep the rest of my staff alive, will you?”
Chapter Fifteen
The Clover Grove Harvest Fair had been an institution since long before I was around. I’d loved it as a kid, until deciding at 12 that it was “lame.” That happened to every local teen, but probably earlier for me because of having so many older siblings who aged out of the fair. Poppy, in particular, heaped scorn on the event, from the haybale maze to the pumpkin patch portraits. Back then there was no real midway, just an old merry-go-round and an even older Ferris wheel that was more terrifying than modern rides simply because it seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
Tonight, as we hopped out of the rental van, voices overlapped in a comical mix of delight and disdain.
“Oh, how quaint. I bet there’s fudge.”
“Do I smell cotton candy?”
“Do I smell cheesy?”
“If there’s a kissing booth, I’m all over it.”
“Let’s all bob for apples.”
“Take my money, Clover Grove.”
I was too stunned to say anything until the clamor died down. Eventually, as we walked out of the field that served as parking lot, I turned to Jilly. “You have no idea how much this has changed in ten years. I’m both impressed and appalled.”
“I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “Perfect for a romantic date. Don’t you wish you could ride the Ferris wheel with Kellan?”
After hearing about our trip to the public gardens, Jilly had silently started planning our wedding. I could see it in the calculating way she scanned the farm, and hear it when she spontaneously asked me about my favorite finger foods. She was a diehard romantic waiting for magic moments to happen.
“I prefer to keep my feet on the ground,” I said. “So much safer.”
Keats wasn’t listening, for a change. He trotted between us, tail up, eyes bright, tongue lolling. There was nothing this dog loved more than a new experience.
I was pleased to see most of the old harvest fair favorites were front and center, including the haybale maze and the pumpkin patch photo opp. There were carts nearby selling candied apples, fudge, caramel corn and cotton candy, and the promise of fried food hung heavily in the air. Where there used to be just a few games and booths, however, now there were long rows of clanging, banging contests. Other rows offered handicrafts, local produce, cheese, preserves and baked goods. In the distance, I heard the various vocalizations of sheep, cows, horses, goats and probably far more. Their fine bouquet mixed with the sweet and savory food smells and whisked me back to childhood on a roller coaster of emotions.
In the next field was a legit roller coaster so high that it took my breath away. I’d seen the flashing neon lights from the farm the evening before, but I couldn’t quite believe it. It took up the most prominent real estate in the fairground, but there were other equally terrifying rides that elicited screams that probably echoed down the range of hills. Judging by the shrill pitch, there was no shortage of teens tonight. These rides had chased a lot of the cheese away from this old tradition.
>
“Who’s going on the roller coaster with me?” Neal asked, immediately.
There was a chorus of “not me.” My voice was loudest. I wasn’t a fan of heights or speed and I certainly didn’t need to embarrass myself in front of my former colleagues with shrieking or crying.
“Fine, I’ll do it alone,” he said. “This one’s nothing compared to the rides I’ve taken all over the world.”
Theme parks were Neal’s passion. When we worked together, he was always trying to show people videos and photos, but few could relate. Even I couldn’t feign interest, and I normally did my best to find common ground with my staff.
“You’re a thrill seeker,” Ben said. “And I’ve had enough thrills for one week.”
Neal shook his head. “You guys have lost all sense of adventure. Wilf beat it out of you.”
“No speaking ill of the dead,” Paulette reminded him.
“Look, Paulette,” Neal said. “You’re the only one here who liked Wilf. Obviously, he was nicer to you because you kept his secrets.”
“I kept everyone’s secrets, remember?” She cast a sheepish glance my way and added, “Not that there were many.”
“I’m sure you shared them all with Chief Harper in your one-on-one,” I said. “At least I hope so, because your company confidentiality agreement doesn’t apply to police matters.”
“Of course,” she said. “Whatever I know, he knows, and it isn’t much. He’s no closer to solving this crime, I’m afraid.”
“What I’m afraid of is getting stuck in this hick town forever,” Nellie said. I wondered if she’d brought any casual clothes with her to Clover Grove, because she was wearing a flimsy dress with sparkle and stiletto ankle boots that might well break her ankle before the night was out. At least she had a leather jacket to block the breeze. There was a nip in the air that would bring on the full colors in the hills before long.
“You need your spa gloves tonight, Nellie,” I joked. “It’s a cool one.”
She flicked her hair at me. “I gave up on my manicure days ago. I’ll need a mani 911 the second we’re home.”
Ben leaned down to whisper, “I’d give us a week on the farm before it turned into Lord of the Flies.”
Normally I would have laughed at his comment, but I was miffed with him for lying to me about what happened with Wilf. Or at least, lying by omission. “I’m sure we can all stay civil,” I said. “Getting this crime resolved depends on it.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You used to love speculating about the corporate descent into chaos.”
“Times have changed, Ben. Wilf’s death could spell the end for Runaway Farm if the police don’t figure out what happened soon. Even then my reputation will be in tatters with two murders hanging over my new inn. Mostly, I worry about my animals. You have no idea how it feels to be responsible for so many creatures.”
“Just be patient. Things will sort themselves out in time,” he said.
“I don’t have time. Remember, I didn’t get a decent package from Flordale to fall back on. I need to line up my next guests soon. And yet, I get the sense some of you may not be telling me the full story.”
His eyes left my face and darted around the fairground. “What do you mean?”
Watching him closely, I took my chance. “I heard through the grapevine that you were outside with Wilf on the night of the murder. Struggling with him, actually.”
Ben’s genial smile melted away. “Who told you that? I thought our police statements were confidential.”
“They are. But in a small town, word gets around. My source is reliable.”
Edna Evans was anything but reliable, but Ben had confirmed her story with his reaction.
He stopped walking and caught my sleeve till we fell behind the Flordale crowd. “It’s true that I held back some details about being outside with Wilf in the night. I was worried it would sound bad when I was only trying to keep him from doing anything stupid. He bumped into my bedroom door on his way out and I followed him. Sure enough, I found him behind the wheel. He circled me twice. I was the center of his donut.”
“Go on,” I said.
“Your source was right about the struggle. Wilf was out of shape but it was like wrestling a slick hippo.” He shook his head. “I was too easy on him because I worried about repercussions. But eventually I managed to take away the car keys and get him back to his room. Obviously he went out to the barn again later, after I fell asleep.”
“What did you do with the keys?” I asked.
His handsome face drooped almost comically in shame. “I put them on his dresser in the morning before joining Jilly for mimosas. At that point I had no idea what had happened.”
My intuition said Ben was telling the truth and a quick glance at Keats showed the dog agreed. His ears were forward and his tail at half mast. The signs said he wasn’t a huge fan of Ben but he didn’t dislike him, either.
“Who else was with you?” I asked, pinning Ben with my own intense stare. I didn’t have Keats’ almost mystical eye game, but I was a good observer of human behavior. “My source said you weren’t working alone.”
Ben scuffed the well-trodden grass underfoot and sighed. “Neal. He came out to see what all the fuss was about, but he wasn’t much help. Wilf yelled some threats at him and he went back to the house before I did.”
“What kind of threats?”
“The usual… Professional annihilation. Maybe dialed up a notch.” He stared at the Ferris wheel for a second and then added, “Something about corporate treachery and that Neal ‘deserved what was coming.’ Nothing I wouldn’t expect from Wilf in that state. He was a mean drunk.”
“That I know.” I turned to find Jilly and then raised a finger to ask her to wait for us. “We’d better join the pack, Ben. Thanks for filling me in.”
“Ivy, I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you’ll forgive me. Things have just been… difficult since you left Flordale.”
There was something in his eyes I couldn’t quite read. Keats tipped his head and stared quizzically at Ben. His tail gave a delicate swish and then drooped—a new sign I hadn’t witnessed before.
As we merged with our group, I decided to believe that was the extent of Ben’s involvement, at least for now. We had a good history. Besides, the thought of sharing a roof with a six-foot-six killer who could successfully wrestle a slick hippo was unnerving. He didn’t look threatening now, stooping to take a bite out of Nellie’s bright red candy apple. Even the cool girl had caught harvest fair fever and sweetened up.
Neal was my next target and I didn’t relish the challenge. I’d never particularly liked him and that’s why I hadn’t hired him when he applied for the role of IT specialist in our department. His references were tepid, and he’d seemed shifty to me. But technology experts were hard to find, and in the end, Wilf went around my back. One day I came to work and found Neal giving me a sly smile from behind a bank of monitors. As the consummate professional, I welcomed him warmly to my team. Now, based on what Avis Arron had said, my assessment of Neal turned out to be accurate. Mind you, I wouldn’t have predicted he’d share company trade secrets. A skilled IT guy should have been able to cover his tracks better.
If I wanted to learn more about Neal’s activities, I was going to have to make some sacrifices. What I had planned felt like an almost intolerable risk. But it also felt like the most expedient route to get some answers. Keats nudged my hand and I whispered, “I know, buddy. I’m worried, too, especially because you can’t come with me. I’m sure once I get over the initial shock, it will be child’s play.”
A snicker made me look up, only to find Neal crowding my space. His energy had always made my hackles rise, even before I knew what the hair on the back of my neck was telling me. Tonight, Keats’ ruff came up, too.
“I never would have pegged you as someone who talked to dogs, Ivy,” he said. “That bump on your head really did knock a few screws loose.”
I gave him a mis
chievous smile. I’d accumulated quite a collection of smiles I could pull out to suit the occasion, but that one didn’t get used often. “Oh, Neal. The screws were always loose in here.” I tapped my temple. “I just hid it better. On the bright side, ‘old Ivy’ would never go on a roller coaster, whereas ‘new Ivy’ is up for it. What do you say?”
“Really?” His muddy eyes brightened, but it wasn’t enough to offset his pointy nose or the weak chin behind the wispy beard. “You said no earlier.”
“Changed my mind. You only live once, right?”
Jilly took my sleeve and yanked me away from the crowd with none of her usual finesse. “Ivy, are you nuts? You had a brain injury a few months ago and it can take a year to recover. Getting whiplash on a roller coaster is the last thing you need.”
Leaning in, I whispered, “I think Neal may have killed Wilf, so I want to soften him up for questioning.”
Her blonde ponytail snapped from side to side in a brisk protest. “That’s Kellan Harper’s job. Let the police chief get on a roller coaster and rattle his brain. He gets paid the big County bucks to do that.”
I laughed. “As if Kellan would ever ride a roller coaster. Can you imagine? I don’t think there’s an ounce of fun left in him.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s an ounce of sense left in you.”
“These rides are perfectly safe. There’s plenty of padding and there’s never been a serious accident.” I grinned at her. “I googled before offering.”
“Ivy, let me take the ride, then. Just tell me what you want me to ask.”
Reaching out, I squeezed her arm. “You’re the best friend ever. But all I want you to do is watch over everyone, including Keats.” I hooked up the dog’s leash and handed it to her. “He won’t like this.”
“Of course not. He wants a busy, full life with someone whose brain still works.”
“That’s why I need to clear the farm’s name, and if it takes a thrill ride to do it, I’m willing.”
Before she could wear me down with her logic, I slipped away and beckoned Neal.
