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

by Ellen Riggs

  “Maybe not fast enough. Especially if they could get me for cheap.” After a pause, I said, “Well, who do you think it is, then?”

  “I’m working through my process, like always. It may not be fast enough to please the mayor, but it does get me where I need to go.”

  “She’s given me a bit of grief too,” I said. “Wanted Keats and me to do some digging.”

  Kellan sighed, fiddling with the laces. “I figured, although she denied roping you in. I hope she realizes she’s putting you in a precarious situation.”

  “She does. At the risk of sounding cynical, that’s what politicians do, under the guise of serving the public first. I worried her support for the inn would dry up if I didn’t try to help.”

  “You’d do it anyway,” he said.

  “Probably, since my animals are at risk. But I don’t like to be told what to do anymore.”

  “Tell me about it.” Finally, he laughed a little. “I guess those network execs know that now, too.”

  I got mad all over again. “They’re slimy and despicable, and they don’t deserve a dog like Byron.”

  “Do you really need a second dog when the first one is perfect?” he asked, sounding relieved to change the subject.

  “Byron is specialized. He’s a pig whisperer and I’m sure he’s going to settle those thugs down, too. He’s got magic calming powers.”

  “How does Keats feel about that?”

  “Ambivalent. He may be glad to offload some grunt work if Byron doesn’t try to muscle in on the fun stuff. My guess is they’re so different they’re compatible.”

  “So you brought home two new animals in less than a day?”

  “The goat’s temporary and I won’t even name her.”

  “You could try convincing the network execs to let you keep her by accusing them of murder again. That’s a good strategy to get their goat.”

  “Funny. But I needed that dog for Wilma, and it was a fair exchange for humiliating me in front of the entire town.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” he said. “And it was only half the town.”

  “The camera crew skulked in my shrubbery and spied on me. Plus they made Wilma look like a crazy wild boar.”

  He sighed as he deftly wove my bootlace. “She is crazy sometimes. And there have been worse videos online.”

  I stared down at his hair, which was unruly from his hat but still somehow perfect. My fingers ached to touch it but I didn’t. “I hoped you didn’t see them.”

  “They’re hard to miss, sweetie. And I’m only human. I need a laugh, too.”

  Embarrassment surged from my boots to the crown of my head. The endearment barely took the edge off.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you must get teased about them. About me.”

  His hands stopped moving and he looked up. “Ivy, no one would dare tease me about you. Do I seem in any way teasable to my staff or the citizens of Clover Grove?”

  “I guess not. But they would if they could.”

  He laughed. “How about we not worry about woulds and coulds? There are so many legit things to worry about.” His fingers started lacing again, making sure it was perfectly even. “As if I would care what anyone said anyway. You should know that.”

  “Let’s drop the shoulds, too.”

  “That’s pushing it. There are some important shoulds on the table. And should nots. Like you should not drive with a goat in your truck. That’s a good one. And it’s the law.”

  “There’s no law saying you can’t drive with a goat in your truck. I’m sure I’d have heard about that.”

  “Maybe you could spend less time turning manure and more reviewing the laws of our highways.”

  “That’s a could and a should all wrapped into one,” I said. “When driving without goats is just common sense.”

  “There you go,” he said, smiling up at me again. “You’re good to go down here, too.”

  Somehow he’d managed to tie my boot good and tight on two-thirds of a lace. I stared down at him and said, “This might just be the most romantic moment of my life.”

  His smile was warm enough to melt the snow off the barn roof. “I can do better. It’s almost Valentine’s Day.”

  As he braced himself to get up, a ball of orange fluff plummeted from a stall and landed between his shoulder blades. Percy was gone as fast as he came and Keats took his place, having recovered from exertion with his usual speed. He stood on Kellan’s back like king of the castle.

  “Off, special constable Keats,” Kellan said, straightening slowly so the dog could drop to the floor. “Those two are the exception to my rule. They dare to tease me, when they could and they should find someone else to torment.”

  I took his hand and walked him out to the police SUV. “You deserve better.”

  “Than them? Maybe. Than you? Never.” Turning me to face him, he ran his hand over my goat-ravaged hair and plucked out some straw. “Could you and would you try to be a little more careful, please? This will be my first Valentine’s Day that actually means something… providing you last that long.”

  I stood on the tips of my laced boots and kissed him. “No more driving with goats. I promise. Surviving to Valentine’s Day is a very worthy goal.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I had screamed before—probably more than many in their entire lifetimes—but never had a screech ripped out with such intensity that it practically took my tonsils along for the ride. There was a moment where I knew what it was like to fly, because I actually did soar through the air. Then it all ended with a hard thump as my helmet knocked against a tree stump.

  “That shriek ended your singing career,” someone said. The voice sounded far away because of the helmet. “Good thing you’ve got a donkey to cover for you.”

  “Edna, shut it.” That voice belonged to Jilly and it was a lot closer. I opened my eyes to find her bent over me. Only her green eyes were visible through the visor of her own helmet. “Are you okay, Ivy? Is your head okay?”

  Another face loomed over me and a wet nose touched my visor. Keats whined and stared at me with his brown eye. The canine energy transfusion got me on my feet in short order.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Did you really need to drive that fast, Gertie?”

  “No,” she said. “I just like to drive that fast. Don’t you?”

  “Ivy’s a plodder,” Edna said, from the seat of the blue snowmobile—the one that had belonged to Gertie’s husband. “That’s why we’re driving, Gertie.”

  Jilly helped me back into place behind Gertie. “Are you sure you’re able to go on?”

  “Absolutely. I just lost my grip when Gertie hit that last bump. Also, I keep getting whacked in the face with her braid. It’s like a serpent.”

  Keats panted anxiously at my side and I gave him a pat with a heavy waterproof mitten to prove I was ready for action.

  Putting her hands on the hips of her bulky snowmobile suit, Jilly glared at Gertie. “Ivy is still recovering from a head injury, in case you weren’t aware. Getting conked again could be catastrophic. Maybe we should switch drivers. I’m fully capable of piloting this machine.”

  Gertie laughed. “You’ll toss her again in three minutes. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  “Jilly, I’m good,” I said. “Gertie knows the terrain better than anyone. All she needs to do is slow down.”

  “That’s no fun,” Gertie said. “Life is short, ladies, you’ve got to enjoy the ride.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Edna said. “I learned that too late but I’m making up for lost time now.”

  “Just get us there in one piece,” I said. “I made a promise to Kellan to live till Valentine’s Day. This probably wasn’t what he had in mind when he asked me to be more careful.”

  Edna lifted her visor and grinned at me. “If he wanted a woman who wrapped herself up in an afghan to cross-stitch, he’d have picked a different sister. There are other Galloway options.”

 
; “Stop that,” Jilly said, swatting Edna as she climbed back on board. “It’s a sensible request from a sensible man.”

  “He does seem well aware of Ivy’s demons,” Gertie said.

  “Demons?” I propped my feet on the running board. The hardest part was maneuvering bulky gear on a streamlined scream machine. “What demons are those?”

  “The ones that drive you headfirst into danger with your eyes wide open,” Gertie said. “Don’t get me wrong. I consider that a personal strength. Not everyone does.”

  “It puts you first on the list for my bunker,” Edna said. “Just what you need in an apocalypse. I’ll be sure to stock plenty of helmets for you.”

  “I can’t zap zombies wearing a helmet,” I said. “They’d get me from the back or the side. Plus I’d never hear them coming.”

  Jilly tossed me a grin before lowering her visor. “Keats and I will warn you. Zombies are not subtle.”

  “Deal,” I said, dropping my own visor. “Hit it, Gertie.”

  The next leg of our journey was staid in comparison to the heady first run. I missed the speed. Riding so fast and so low to the ground was exhilarating. Keats enjoyed racing alongside, too. I realized that busy as he was, he rarely got to run full out and he was still a young dog. Maybe I should get us a snowmobile.

  “There,” Gertie said, when we reached our destination. “Safe, sound and bored.”

  I pulled off my helmet and set it on the seat. “Can I drive on the way back?”

  “No!” The word came from three women and one dog.

  “Oh, come on. I’m a good driver without a stick shift. In most conditions.”

  “Which do not include a blizzard coming in,” Jilly said, pulling off her helmet. She held out her arm to show the snow accumulating on her black sleeve. “Let’s do this and get back to that hot cocoa Gertie promised.”

  Gertie and Edna lifted their visors, leaving their helmets on. The warriors remained ready for immediate deployment. In fact, Gertie bent to release Minnie, her rifle, from its compartment on the side of the snowmobile. “If Finch and Starling show up, I’m serving roast bird for dinner.”

  “Ugh, don’t even,” Jilly said. “This is a peaceful mission.”

  “Until it isn’t,” Edna said.

  Our brigade of five headed for the old barn where Wilma and Byron had been contained. The fences were gone after the police investigation and the footprints of the team had been covered in a fresh coat of snow. The barn itself looked sad and even more derelict without the animals, and the door that hung askew looked like a gaping mouth.

  “You really think the police missed something, Ivy?” Jilly asked.

  “I promised Percy I’d check. It’s a shame we couldn’t bring him, but it wasn’t safe. At least Keats could take care of himself.”

  The dog panted a yes-yes-yes. He was actually giddy with excitement over the run.

  We were nearly inside before that changed. His lashing tail did a stop and drop. His ears flattened. And everything that could puff, did puff.

  “Uh-oh,” Gertie said, raising her rifle. “I’d better stay back and guard the perimeter. I can’t get a good shot inside with a rifle.”

  “I’m kicking myself for not bringing my pistol,” Edna said. “All I have is pepper spray. I’ll need a trailer for the skidoo to carry my kit.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” I said. “Keats didn’t like the vibe here before and it was empty. We’ll just take a quick look around and go.”

  “Make sure it’s not booby-trapped,” Gertie said. “By the Pefferlaw boobies.” After a moment she called, “Are boobies birds of prey?”

  “Seabirds,” I called back, pulling off my big mitten and groping in a zipped pocket for my phone.

  Jilly got hers out, too, and we walked into the barn in twin beams of light while Edna cocked her canister of pepper spray. The energy was all wrong here and I understood why Keats was on red alert. But our army of five was strong and steady.

  “So where was Percy when you left?” Jilly asked.

  “In the rafters. Right about… here.” I stood in the corner and pointed. “Boost me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Jilly said. “I can barely move in this suit. We’d both come crashing down.”

  “How else can I take a look? It felt like I could fly earlier but I’m just a projectile.”

  “I’ll bend over and you can stand on my back,” Edna said.

  “Edna! Your discs could collapse and I’d be down one general,” I said. “Jilly can lift me on her shoulders. She’s done it before.”

  Jilly glared at me. “Uh, no. I’d remember that.”

  “Must have been a dream,” I said, grinning. “But you’re always the wind beneath my wings.”

  “Okay, I’ll try it once,” Jilly said. “If we fall, I’m out.”

  “We won’t. As soon as you’re upright, I can grab the rafters and pull up. It’ll only take a second to look around.”

  Jilly bent over and I locked my bulky snowsuit-clad legs around her shoulders. It would likely have been a failure to launch had Edna not been there to help Jilly straighten and balance. She even pushed my butt up from behind to take part of the load. Eventually I was aloft like an unlikely blimp.

  Keats whined from what seemed like far below and I called down, “It’s okay, buddy. I’m good.”

  “I’m not,” Jilly grunted. “Less talk more search.”

  I shook off my other mitten so I could grip the top of the wall with my left hand while aiming the phone into the small space between the wall and the sloping roof. My heart sank as I saw there was nothing.

  “Nothing?” Jilly echoed, as if I’d said it aloud.

  “Nothing. Except a wee bit of straw. Cops must have cleaned the whole place out.”

  I plucked at the straw and stuck it in my pocket. It wasn’t good for anything but I felt like I needed to come down with something after Jilly had risked her neck for me. Literally.

  She lowered me on my signal and her flushed face looked elated rather than annoyed. My city girl twin had also come a long way in the adventure department.

  “Bupkis,” Edna said as we left the barn. “Don’t you love that word?”

  “It’s good one,” Gertie said. “But we’re not leaving empty-handed, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why? What did you find?” I asked.

  She pointed at prints. They were reasonably fresh, based on the amount of snow we’d had, and one just under the eaves was pretty clear. It was large. Very large actually, and it obviously belonged to a man.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to a neat little circle beside it. “There’s another one here. And here.”

  Edna looked at Gertie and shook her head. “Oh, to be so young again.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said, gesturing for Keats to take a good sniff. There would be little he could pick up with the snow falling, unfortunately.

  Gertie tipped her rifle butt up and pressed the business end into the snow. Then she pretended to lean on it. “Get it now?”

  “A cane! Someone was here using a cane.”

  “Or just a regular walking stick,” Edna said. “Either way, it probably wasn’t Finch Pefferlaw. He looked like he could take down a bear.”

  “Maybe someone came armed with a stick to fend off a bearlike dog and a pig,” I said. “And discovered they’d been claimed.”

  “Well, we won’t get answers standing around,” Gertie said, revving the machine and starting to move forward. “Save the chitchat and let’s roll on these tracks. They’re filling in fast.”

  It was a shame visors didn’t come with wipers because the driving snow pretty much blinded me as Gertie followed the tracks as best she could. She couldn’t see well either, but fortunately our canine soldier had the advantage. He wove in and out of tight spots we couldn’t reach and waited as we caught up. I was sorry we couldn’t give full-out pursuit yet relieved I wouldn’t go flying again. Better to live to fight another day.


  Gertie slowed and I lifted my visor. “Fresher,” she said. “He’s not far ahead of us, and slower.”

  Edna gave a whoop that would have fogged her visor. “Get that man and I’ll trounce him with his own cane.”

  So close. We were so close. And Keats showed every sign that this was a key person of interest. A dangerous person.

  And, unfortunately, a smart one.

  Just a few yards later, the prints ended abruptly at the fastest running creek in the area.

  “Dagnabit,” Edna called, swerving this way and that. “No telling which way he went. Could have doubled back for all we know.”

  “Divide and conquer?” Gertie asked.

  “No,” I said, and Jilly echoed the word from behind her visor. “No dividing the brigade.”

  “It’s our big chance,” Edna said. “No guts, no glory.”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that trouble circles around to find me,” I said. “We’ll get another chance.”

  The older women shook their heads at each other in disappointment.

  “They’re not making girls like they used to,” Gertie said.

  “We’ll leave them in the bunker to ripen,” Edna said. “Soldiers get better with age.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. That was something I never believed in my old life, where the corporation ruthlessly targeted midlife staff for redundancy. Out here in farm country, the wisdom and experience that came with age were prized.

  “Hit it, Gertie,” I said. “This young old lady wants to sit by the fire with her cocoa.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I took my time closing up shop that night. Egg collecting in the morning and bedtime barn rituals framed my day in a predictable and soothing way. If those went well, it mattered less what happened in between. Seeing Keats’ plumy tail bobbing ahead of me down to the barn early and back up late bookended a good day—even if it wasn’t a perfect day. No day on the farm went according to plan. There were too many moving parts. That was one thing I loved about it. In my old life, I was an expert in making things go to plan and my motto had been “No surprises.” Here, I could barely make it through an hour without a surprise great or small. But morning and evening tended to be bombshell free.