Swine and Punishment (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 7)

by Ellen Riggs

  “I left the corporate world behind for a reason,” I said. “I couldn’t handle the cutthroat politics anymore. There was no ‘human’ in human relations.”

  Evie, on the other hand, had a spring in her step. She may have left politics behind but she still enjoyed strategy.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said, sliding on the ice deliberately this time. “Let the games begin.”

  Chapter Seven

  I fully expected Faraway Farm, the TV show, to be hilarious—in the bad way. Nearly 20 of us gathered in the family room to watch, eating the delicious pasta dish Jilly seemingly pulled out of thin air. As the show went on, however, forks slowed and animated conversation stalled. By the time the credits rolled, we all stared at each other baffled, or in my case, furious. How dare they take my life and do it better? Make it simple and easy and downright elegant in places? I’d never had an elegant moment since my boots landed on this farm’s soil.

  “Well,” Remi said. “That wasn’t terrible.”

  “It wasn’t great, either,” Evie said. “Felt forced to me. It’s quite a stretch to believe Vivian Crane tended the chickens that set her up for that frittata. Although I admit I’ll probably visit their website to download the recipe.”

  “I’m sure it was rubbery,” I told Jilly. “It looked overcooked to me.”

  Jilly laughed. “My vanity will survive the fact that they rolled us together into one person. We’re practically twins anyway.”

  “It’s a shame she modeled her style after Ivy instead of you, Jilly,” Mom said. “Those overalls looked dreadful. And that hair! Even Ivy doesn’t do pigtails.”

  “Maybe I should,” I said. “Stencil on a few freckles and learn to square dance.”

  Mom smoothed her red dress, which was different from the one she’d worn earlier. Had she moved her entire wardrobe here, too?

  “Still not funny, darling. But I know you’re stressed about your pig.”

  “Not to mention identity theft,” Edna said. “It’s a total invasion of your privacy.”

  “Preppers might be next,” I said. “Is that in the zeitgeist, too, Evie?”

  She shook her head. “Hits too close to home. People are worried about the state of the world. They long for the days when a rooster crowed us awake.”

  “I bet there’s no rooster at Faraway Farm,” I said. “Aladdin is loud and annoying. I bet they don’t even know how many tons of poop chickens produce a year. Their manure will never be properly managed.”

  “Maybe they’ll let you guest star with your manure management pro tips,” Edna said, smirking. “It’s a real issue for homesteaders. People complain about it all the time.”

  “Maybe there’s no poop at Faraway Farm,” I said. “If there’s any justice in the world, though, Vivian will pass out from the fumes and do a face plant in dung, just like I did. Or maybe there will be a small explosion. Nothing big enough to harm the animals, of course.”

  “All five of them,” Cori said, rolling her eyes. “As if two chickens produced enough eggs for that fancy brunch. They’re not even laying right now.”

  “The horse, sheep, goat and chickens are all white,” I said. “Will viewers believe they stay that way naturally? And if she thinks that goat is going to stay in that dinky pen she’s got a rude awakening coming. A bored goat is trouble.”

  “Maybe you should be a consultant,” Edna said. “Infiltrate from the inside and look for weaknesses to exploit.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Mom said. “Perhaps she’d take some good advice from me about the overalls.”

  I shook my head. “All I care about is finding Wilma and going about my regular business.”

  Remi tried to offer me Leo, who was lolling in her arms again after trailing Wilma valiantly like a regular hound. Keats, who was leaning against my leg, gave a grumble loud enough to startle her. He wasn’t arm candy but he provided his own excellent brand of therapy.

  “Sorry, Keats,” she said, backing away. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were just picking up on my worries and being generous with your dog,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be back in the field tomorrow.”

  Cori gave the signal to decamp and the women rose almost as one and went to the front hall. That’s when the tiny trainer lost control of the troops, however. While she stood outside on the porch with her gloved hands shoved in her pockets, everyone started hugging each other as if the apocalypse loomed. Normally I wasn’t a fan of such flagrant affection, but tonight I took all the hugs I could get. When I missed a few people, Keats herded me around and gave me a pointed shove with his muzzle. He wasn’t a fan of flagrant affection either, but he knew a good thing when he saw it.

  “Would you just stop?” Cori said. “Before Edna and I turn into human popsicles?”

  The women surged through the door and staged a group hug on both of them.

  I expected Edna to put up a fight, but other than shielding her perm she succumbed to the wave of goodwill.

  “Reconvene here at ten,” Cori said, disengaging herself and running down the stairs ahead of the others. “We need the light.”

  Keats, Percy and I were on the road before eight the next morning. My errand wouldn’t take long and I’d be back in plenty of time to greet the Rescue Mafia and resume our search for Wilma.

  “This is probably a bad idea,” I said, taking the slow route through town. The back roads were faster but I still had flashbacks from our very bumpy ride in a blizzard on Christmas Eve with Edna at the wheel.

  Keats mumbled something noncommittal. No matter how it turned out, he was happy to be going on a secret mission I didn’t even mention to Jilly. Percy was curled up beside him in the passenger seat trying to catch a little more beauty sleep. The cat was totally comfortable in his little parka, unlike Keats, who tore at his coat with his teeth when he got the chance. Mom kept stitching them up. One she’d pulled apart entirely to make him an original Dahlia production. The odds were against his liking it, but I wouldn’t complain if she went back to her apartment to spend some quality time with her sewing machine.

  Keats gave me a look with his eerie blue eye.

  “What? I love Mom but that doesn’t mean I want to live with her. What if she starts bringing her boyfriends home?” How she kept such a robust stable of eligible men in an area where women had a hard time meeting the right guy was beyond me. “Do you know she wants to teach rotational dating 101? Tell me that wouldn’t be awkward.”

  He turned back to stare at the road. Mom usually got a free pass with him, no matter how much trouble she caused.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t let myself get sidetracked. This is going to take my full focus. I’m bringing all my HR expertise to bear.” I turned down the long lane. “I hope I still got it. I’m not the woman I used to be, buddy. For better or worse.”

  He turned and warmed me to the core with his brown eye and a wide smile. No matter who I’d become, he was my biggest fan. Bigger even than Kellan.

  The rumble in his throat said, “You’d better believe it.”

  We drove under the black arch that read “Faraway Far” with the “m” hanging by a thread. It wasn’t made of rusted-out iron like mine, but it was a decent reproduction.

  I wasn’t sure what to expect. Did they actually live here when they were shooting in town, or stay at a hotel and drive to the farm set?

  There were several cars in the parking area. One Mercedes and a few that looked like rentals. The proof of the falseness of it all was that there wasn’t a single pickup truck. No farm in Clover Grove could manage without one.

  “I’d like to see Vivian drive a pickup with a standard transmission,” I said. “See how real that gets.”

  Keats mumbled something calming. If I got myself riled, I’d lose my advantage.

  Not that I really had an advantage.

  “All I want is to make peace. I used to be a skilled negotiator, y
ou know.” I pulled up beside the Mercedes and switched off the ignition. “You do know. Because I’ve had to negotiate with a few people not to kill us.” That made me smile. “Clearly I haven’t lost my chops because we’re still here.”

  He gave me a happy pant and I smoothed my hair. It had been tempting to wear it in pigtails but that would just be poking the bear. No poking the bear when you need to save a pig.

  “How do I look? I wore my best jeans and a nice sweater so they’d take me seriously. I’ll have to change back into farmer Ivy before anyone sees me later.”

  He placed both white paws on my leg and then pumped a few times. The gesture always meant “go.”

  “Fine. I’m stalling and I admit it. I feel like I should have an agent with me.”

  I opened the door and released Keats. Percy unwound himself, yawned and then mewed.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t see a cat. They really should have one. Maybe your friend Snowflake could get some day work. Roles for a white cat are hard to find.”

  Keats mumbled something from the driveway. Stalling.

  I slid down from the truck and Percy leapt from the seat onto my shoulder. No reason to get his paws wet when he could catch a ride.

  Becky opened the door on my second knock. They must have seen me coming because the green light on Ray’s camera was on.

  “Good morning,” I said, dialing my smile past neutral to sweet. “I’m here to see a lady about a pig.”

  “A pig?” Becky said. “We don’t have a pig at Faraway Farm. Yet.”

  For the first time I wondered if they’d been trying to steal Wilma, rather than just set her free. There was no doubt in my mind that she’d have put up a fight. That might explain the crushed bush. Maybe someone tried to leash the nice piggy.

  “No? That’s probably for the best,” I said. “Wilma’s a feisty one. Mind you all my animals are rescues who had hard lives.”

  “Yes?” Becky’s guard was up. I’d have to initiate maneuvers.

  “It was nice to see such happy animals in your little barn. And Byron seems like an absolute doll. Keats took to him right away.”

  Becky crossed her arms. “What’s up, Ivy? Yesterday you wouldn’t give us the time of day.”

  “Just came to have a quick word with Vivian. I won’t keep you long.”

  “She isn’t up yet,” Becky said. “We had a party here after the season premiere.”

  Keats didn’t wait for an invitation. He slipped through their feet and then upstairs. “I’ll wait for her,” I said. “Do I smell coffee?”

  “No,” Becky said. “You smell our schedule burning as we stand around talking. Time is money in the film business.”

  “Of course.” I sensed she was an unmovable force, so I pushed in front of Ray instead. As I suspected, he didn’t hold me back. On the contrary, he let me through and continued shooting while I walked ahead of them into the kitchen. I knew exactly where to find the coffeemaker as it sat in the same place in virtually the same kitchen as mine. It was even the same model, although the production could certainly afford better. “Incredible eye for detail. How did you manage to copy the décor down to the last detail?”

  Becky shrugged. “Every nice farmhouse has a kitchen like this.”

  I laughed. “There’s no kitchen like this in Clover Grove as far as I know. Homesteaders are trying to live off the land, even off the grid. Granite is out of their snack bracket for the most part. Mine too, of course. I caught a lucky break with Hannah.” Percy kneaded my shoulder and I nodded. “Of course, the website has photos. You’re right.”

  “Who’s right?” Becky looked genuinely confused. I was going to end up on their show chitchatting to my cat if I wasn’t more careful.

  “Sorry. Talking to myself. Guess I spend too much time alone in the barn.”

  I opened the cupboard where we kept our mugs and was relieved to see they were using it for spices. The next one, where we kept cereal, had the mugs. Becky said nothing as I poured the coffee, took a sip, and then turned to lean against the counter. Percy shifted to get his balance and then started grooming himself.

  “Why don’t you just cut to the chase?” Becky said.

  “I already did. I’m here to talk to Vivian about my pig.”

  “About your what?” Vivian was standing in the doorway wearing a negligee like nothing I’d ever own. It was pink and had feathered edges and was transparent in spots. Not the dangerous spots, thank goodness.

  “My pig,” I said. “Good morning.”

  “It’s not that good when a wet nose jabs your eyelid to wake you up.” She rubbed her face and I noticed her eyes were blue again. “He let himself into the room.” Turning to Becky, she said, “Why isn’t Byron that smart? Why isn’t Byron Keats?”

  That made me smile. The two poets had very little in common as far as I could remember.

  “Byron’s an outdoor dog,” I said. “He’ll never be happy in the house poking your eyelid while he has livestock. And if he doesn’t have livestock, he’ll pine. That’s why he’s on this earth.”

  “You’re very odd, Ivy,” she said. “And I don’t think I can pretend otherwise without a coffee.” She nudged me aside while glaring at Ray. “Turn that thing off. You know I don’t roll camera unless I’m dressed and ready. It’s in my contract.” Under her breath she added, “Or it will be.”

  “But we could get some good footage of Ivy talking to her cat,” Becky suggested.

  “Later.” Vivian took out a cup and poured. There was barely any coffee left and she raised her eyebrows at Becky. “Make more coffee while I find out about the pig that brought Ivy crawling back to my door.”

  So it was her door, now. Not the production’s. It was hard to know if she was in character or not. Best to assume she was and that any of this footage could be used against me.

  I swallowed the rest of my coffee before speaking. “When I got home yesterday, I found that someone had released Wilma, my pig. I searched for hours with my friends but we haven’t found her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Vivian stared at me over the rim of her cup as she sipped the inch of coffee I’d left her. “Is there something we could do to help? That’s what happens out here in the country, right? You pitch in for barn raisings and potlucks.”

  “And square dancing,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. I thought Keats would laugh but he gave me a look that said zip it. “Just kidding. I’m really here because I realize I should have been more neighborly yesterday. Many of my friends did pitch in to help me search and it reminded me to do better. So I’m here now to offer my support if you still need it.”

  “Well, Ivy, that’s kind of you,” Vivian said. “I’m surprised a pig could bring about such a change of heart. She must be very special.”

  “They all are. Even the ones that try to trample me. I care about them.”

  My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket. “I’d better go. There’s been a sighting.” Keats cocked his head and his ears came forward. “At Gertie’s. Isn’t that strange? How could she have come so far so fast?”

  “Gertie Rhodes?” Vivian said. “Is that the woman whose property joins up with this one? She was just awful to our locations people. We’d hoped to include her but…”

  “She didn’t fit the profile,” I said. “Of the sweet small-town neighbor. Like anywhere else, there are some big personalities here.”

  I started walking to the front door. “Sorry about Keats poking you in the eye, Vivian. And thanks for hearing me out.”

  “Hang on,” she called after me. I turned and she and Becky were having a silent communication that involved eyebrows and shoulders. “Just give me time to get dressed and we’ll help you look for this Wilbur.”

  “Wilma,” I said. “Thanks so much for offering but it’s not a great idea. The terrain at Gertie’s is quite treacherous. I was back there not long ago to get a Christmas tree.”

  “And hunt for treasure,” Becky said. “Or
so we heard.”

  “Keats did discover a few caches of stolen goods,” I said. “It’s true.”

  Vivian glared at Becky. “Byron would never find buried gold. He’s a dud.”

  “Give Byron a chance,” I said. “Guardian breeds are steady and unflappable. He’s absolutely perfect for his job. Keats is bred for other things.”

  “Digging for gold?” Becky asked.

  “That’s just his hobby. He has energy to burn. And he’s going to burn some now in deep snow.”

  “Call wardrobe, Becky,” Vivian said, heading for the stairs. “See if they have any snowshoes.”

  “You’ll need a bulletproof vest, judging by what I heard,” Becky muttered. “Maybe Ivy’s neighbor could hook us up.”

  “Edna and Gertie are old pals,” I said, opening the door. “Cut from the same cloth.”

  “Thanks for the warning. We’ll meet you at Gertie’s in fifteen minutes. Don’t start without us.”

  Percy dug in his claws as I walked down the front stairs. He’d never bothered to dismount inside and he launched into the truck when I opened the door. Like most cats, he conserved his energy till it was really needed.

  “Boys, it’s going to be a day,” I said. “Let’s try to act normal, okay?”

  Keats panted a ha-ha-ha and I joined him.

  “Well, let’s try not to embarrass Kellan then,” I said. “A more achievable goal.”

  I called Jilly to fill her in and that was my fatal mistake. The passenger door opened and Vivian, now dressed in the coat and ruffled scarf she wore in the salon that first day, flicked her matching purple leather glove to shoo the animals into the back seat. “Get in, Becky,” she said, gesturing for her assistant to climb in the back with Keats and Percy. “Use your phone to film as we drive to this Gertie’s.”

  She swung into the passenger seat with such ease that for the first time, I wondered if I’d underestimated her.

  Chapter Eight