Ivy couldn’t help but be affronted. “It works fine. We get half vegetables and half meat on the pizza. I have a soy product patty instead of a steak when we grill. I’m not a vegan so I eat dairy products. It’s honestly not that difficult.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “There’s no reason to get touchy. It was an honest question.”
Ivy stretched her neck and stared at the ceiling, counting to ten before continuing. “How about we start over? I think we got off on the wrong foot here.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Margaret said, dumping her bag on the coffee table before fixing Ivy with a pointed look. “You said you were going to take us to a grocery store, right? We definitely need that. Can you do it now?”
“I would love to do it now,” Ivy gritted out.
“Fabulous. I’m sure this will be a great bonding exercise. I’m going grocery shopping with my son’s girlfriend, who just happens to be a vegetarian with pink hair. What an absolutely fascinating day.”
Ivy was pretty sure it would be something else entirely, but she wisely kept her thoughts to herself. “Let’s go then, shall we?”
“THIS IS no farming accident.”
Jack knelt next to the body behind the barn and shook his head as he studied the wounds on the man’s chest. The area where the victim fell was isolated and only visible if you were actively looking for something in the immediate vicinity. The nearby barn cut off the bulk of the sightlines.
“Definitely not,” Brian agreed, glancing over his shoulder to where several seasonal workers stood, their heads bent together as they conversed. One of them found the body and called it in, but gossip clearly spread fast in the isolated environment because they were quickly drawing a crowd. “Is it two bullet wounds … or three?”
“Two,” Jack replied, holding up the appropriate fingers. “This mark here is just a stain on the overcoat. I’m not sure what it is, but it doesn’t look like blood. We’ve got a through-and-through wound to the shoulder here and another one lower in the chest cavity. We’re going to need the medical examiner to determine which wound came first and if they were both fatal.”
“It’s pretty sad,” Brian said, hunkering down so he could stare at the waxy face of the dead man. “I didn’t see this coming for Ron.”
Jack cocked an eyebrow. “You know him?”
“It’s Shadow Lake, son. I know everybody.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Brian bobbed his head. “Ron owned the farm. We went to school together, although I think he was about two years ahead of me, if memory serves. His family was serious about farming and the kids went to school, but they were pulled out on a frequent basis because they had to help around the property during planting and reaping seasons.”
“He owns the property?” Jack mulled the new information. “You said it was the McDonald farm. Does that mean his name is Ron McDonald? Like the clown at the fast food joint?”
Brian kept his expression even as he shook his head. “I’m sure Ron heard every Ronald McDonald joke ever made over the years. He was a good sport about it. I wouldn’t have been nearly as classy if people went after me in that manner.”
“Still, ‘Old McDonald had a farm’ and all. He was kind of getting it with both barrels, huh?”
“Kids can be cruel, but Ron was well liked,” Brian said. “I surely can’t think of any reason why someone would do this to him. He was a good man. He paid his workers fairly. I never saw him get in a fight or anything.”
“Well, he ticked off someone,” Jack said, exhaling heavily as he stood and stared at the workers. “I doubt very much this was some sort of accident. Even if someone thought they heard something and went after an animal, they had to realize after the first shot that they were dealing with a man. Why didn’t anyone call for help if it was an accident?”
“No, this definitely looks deliberate,” Brian said, reaching for his phone. “I’ll call the medical examiner and get him out here. We need to start questioning the workers. This place is isolated, but a lot of people work here. Someone had to see something.”
“I’m on it.”
Five
“Oh, what a cute little market.”
Margaret said the words in a congenial manner, but what Ivy heard in her head was “what a craphole.” In an effort to keep things civil, Ivy faked a smile and pointed toward the produce section. “Everything here is locally sourced as much as possible so a lot of this food comes straight from the farm to the store.”
“Is that safe?” Denise asked. “I mean … what about bugs and stuff?”
“They’ve been doing it a long time.” Ivy struggled to remain calm despite her inner annoyance. “I’m sure they know how to deal with the bugs.”
“I’m sure they do, too,” Margaret said, grabbing an acorn squash and studying it. “So, Ivy, tell me about yourself.”
Ivy was caught off guard. This was the first time in almost two hours either woman had expressed any interest in her. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you work?”
Ivy nodded. “I own a nursery. It’s on the back side of my property. It’s pretty much in hibernation mode now until the spring, but it’s a nice location. I can take you over to see it if you’re interested.”
“Nursery?” Margaret knit her eyebrows together. “That’s like plants, right?”
“Right.”
“I’ve seen plants.” Margaret tossed the squash in the cart and reached for another. “You said the nursery is down now due to the weather. What will you do during the winter?”
“I make lotions, soaps, and body sprays on the side. I use ingredients from my greenhouse. I do that most of the winter months and then start seedlings for my greenhouse very early in the spring.”
“Do you make money doing that?” Denise asked.
“I do quite well. The nursery is obviously my big business, but it’s nice to have time off during the winter so I can relax and recharge.”
“Does Jack help you with your bills?”
It was a bold question. Ivy had to give her credit for having the stones to ask it. She was still offended by the query. “I don’t take money from Jack. I pay my own bills.”
“I see.”
Ivy was pretty sure she didn’t see, but causing a scene in the market wasn’t high on her to-do list so she let it pass. “Do you want something specific? Are you planning on cooking dinner for Jack one night?”
“I plan on cooking Thanksgiving dinner,” Margaret replied. “He likes all of the traditional fixings, so I’m going to need a lot of ingredients.”
Ivy rubbed her cheek, debating. She knew Jack didn’t have a lot of time with his mother before getting called to work, but she didn’t want Margaret wasting money on food when dinner was already handled. “We’re having Thanksgiving dinner with my family,” she offered. “You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s really no need to cook two large dinners.”
Denise’s eyes widened as she stared at her mother, as if she expected a big explosion, and Ivy braced herself for a verbal diatribe. Instead Margaret responded in measured tones.
“And does Jack eat dinner often with your family?”
“Not really. We barbecue with them once every two weeks or so. My brother Max is over all of the time and he and Jack thump their chests next to the grill to see who can grill the better steak, but I wouldn’t say we’re eating with my parents very often.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I came here because I didn’t want Jack being alone on Thanksgiving.”
“He was never going to be alone.”
“I want to cook him dinner. I want to do it my way.” Margaret’s tone was firm.
Ivy recognized that the woman was trying to bully her and refused to kowtow to her demands. “Well, I don’t see how that’s very feasible,” she said. “Jack has absolutely nothing in that house to cook with. He doesn’t have mixing bowls. He doesn’t have roasting pans. He doesn’t have anything other than
two forks and a microwave, quite frankly.
“My mother and aunt are already planning a huge spread and expecting us so adding two people won’t be a problem,” she continued. “They’re already making pie, yams, squash, mashed potatoes … you name it. Why would you want to put yourself through all of that work if you don’t have to do it?”
Denise raised her eyebrows, amused. She clearly wasn’t used to anyone talking back to her mother. “Mom, she has a point … .”
“But I want Jack to have a good meal,” Margaret said, ignoring Denise as she fully embraced her petulance.
Ivy bristled at Margaret’s assumption that Jack wouldn’t have a good meal without her input. “My aunt and mother are wonderful cooks. I swear he won’t go hungry.”
Margaret opened her mouth to say something – Ivy was convinced it would be snotty and snide – but she didn’t get a chance because two middle-aged women picked that moment to swoop in and immediately started talking to Ivy while largely ignoring the women she shopped with.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Luna Morgan said, giving Ivy a hasty hug and ignoring the dark look on her daughter’s face. “Your aunt and I were just discussing the main course situation. We need another vote to break the tie. How do you feel about tofu?”
Ivy’s face drained of color as she shifted her eyes to her mother. “No.”
“Why not?” Luna didn’t appear bothered by her daughter’s mood. “I think it sounds good. I found a recipe on the internet and everything.”
“No,” Ivy repeated.
“Tofu?” Margaret’s voice hopped an octave. “Tofu? You’re trying to force my son to eat tofu?”
“I already told you I’m a vegetarian, Mrs. Harker,” Ivy said, her tone chilly. “I can promise Jack won’t be forced to eat tofu, though. My mother and aunt are just … tossing about ideas.”
For her part, Felicity Goodings remained calm as she studied the two women with Ivy. Unlike her sister, she could easily gauge Ivy’s mood and she realized before they approached that the girl was on edge. In an effort to smooth the situation, she stepped between Luna and Margaret and extended her hand.
“I’m Felicity Goodings. I’m Ivy’s aunt. She referred to you as Mrs. Harker. Does that mean you’re Jack’s mother?”
Margaret balked at the sight of Felicity, her endless supply of silver bangle bracelets and ankle-length skirt causing the Detroit woman’s head to spin in an effort to keep up. Felicity had bells attached to the skirt so she jangled when she walked. Ivy was used to her eccentric aunt – who identified as a witch – but she forgot how others reacted upon first meeting Felicity.
“You can call me Margaret.” The two women exchanged a stiff handshake and Luna practically bubbled over with excitement.
“I didn’t know you were coming for Thanksgiving dinner,” Luna said. “How exciting. Jack should’ve told us, though. That’s not like him.”
“He didn’t know,” Ivy supplied. “It was a … surprise.”
Felicity briefly locked gazes with Ivy, something unsaid passing between them, and smiled. “We absolutely love Jack,” she volunteered. “He’s a wonderful man. He and Ivy are a true delight together.”
“I take it you know my son well,” Margaret said stiffly.
“I’ve spent a decent amount of time with him.”
“Well, that’s great for you.” Margaret was purposely cold as she lifted her chin. “I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend until two hours ago.”
Luna wrinkled her nose at the words, confused. “Jack didn’t tell you he was dating Ivy? Why?”
“That’s a very good question,” Margaret muttered.
“He was probably embarrassed,” Denise offered. “I’m his sister, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you both.”
If Denise expected to insult Ivy and then make nice with her mother and aunt, she had another thing coming. Luna was insulted on her daughter’s behalf, and the expression on her formerly amiable face was ugly.
“Jack isn’t embarrassed by Ivy,” Luna snapped. “They adore one another.”
“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Margaret interjected. “She’s just … crabby from the long drive.”
Felicity had a feeling Denise lived her life being crabby, but she kept that observation to herself and focused on Ivy. “We’re making a nice turkey to go along with everything else so we’ll have plenty of good food for everyone – no matter what they prefer to eat – on Thanksgiving. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Margaret challenged. “I can cook dinner for my family and leave you to worry about your family.”
Luna didn’t hesitate when she answered. “Jack is part of our family. Everyone should eat together to make things easier on him. It would be stupid to cook two meals and force him to choose, wouldn’t it?”
Margaret opened her mouth to argue, but Denise grabbed her wrist and offered a small head shake.
“We would love to join you for dinner,” Denise said. “We’re looking forward to it.”
Luna graced the two women with a tight smile. “I’m sure we’re all looking forward to it.”
“WHEN WAS the last time anyone saw Ron?” Brian asked Wayne McDonald, keeping his voice even as the man struggled to maintain his emotions.
“I saw him yesterday afternoon,” Wayne replied, struggling to hold it together as he answered questions about his brother’s death. “I waved at him when he was heading toward the house.”
“And you live on the property, too?” Jack asked. He was trying to get a handle on the myriad of faces considered to be regulars on the McDonald farm.
“We have three houses on the property,” Wayne explained. “We’ve got a lot of acreage here so we can spread out. I’m to the east that way.” He pointed for emphasis. “Darren and Gilly are to the west that way.”
“And who is Darren?”
“Darren McKinnon,” Brian answered. “He’s Ron’s son-in-law. He married his daughter Gillian – er, Gilly – about four years ago. He works here full time.”
“Ah.” It seemed strange to Jack. The idea of living and working with family was something akin to torture in his book. Of course, he rationalized that idea was only at the forefront of his brain right now because he couldn’t stop worrying about Ivy’s interaction with his mother. “Does anyone live in the main house with Ron?”
“His wife Adele died about three years back from cancer,” Wayne replied. “Ron had the big house to himself ever since. There are plenty of people around here to keep him company, mind you, but he was a might lonely since Adele passed. I was considering trying to set him up with a lady friend at the church. I guess that won’t happen.”
Brian sympathetically patted Wayne’s arm. “He’s with Adele now. I’m sure he’s not lonely any longer.”
“I still don’t understand what happened,” Wayne said. “It was almost dark when I left yesterday. We’ve had a lot of business run late this week because people have been out here picking out turkeys for their Thanksgiving dinner.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I … they come here to pick out a turkey? Why?”
“Because we have a turkey farm that way,” Wayne said, pointing. “Darren has been running it this year because it’s easiest. That parcel of land is closest to his house and Gilly is getting big because the baby will be arriving soon.”
“I forgot about the baby,” Brian mused. “Last time I saw her she looked ready to pop and that was weeks ago. She still hasn’t had the baby?”
“No, and I’m right sorry because Ron never got to see his first grandchild,” Wayne said. “Darren headed that way about twenty minutes ago, by the way. He wanted to be the one to tell her.”
“I questioned Darren while Jack was on the phone with the medical examiner’s office,” Brian supplied. “He told me he wanted to get up there and tell Gilly before someone else could beat him to it. I just forgot she was pregnant. This is going to be awfully hard on h
er.”
“I think it’s going to be awful hard on everyone,” Wayne corrected. “Anyway, I waved at him as I was leaving. He called out and said he was going to talk to Lionel in the barn before heading in and that he would see me soon. That was it. It was a totally normal conversation.”
“Who is Lionel?” Jack asked, shifting his eyes toward the barn.
“Lionel French,” Brian replied. “He’s an old-timer, something of a journeyman. He’s worked a number of farms in this area over the years, but he settled in with Ron about ten years ago or so I think.”
“It’s more like fifteen,” Wayne corrected. “Ron and Lionel are tight. I haven’t seen him since this happened. He knows, right?”
“I know.”
Jack lifted his head at the sound of the new voice and focused on the older man standing next to the barn. His hair was long and white, pulled back in a ponytail, and his eyes were red rimmed. It looked as if he’d been crying.
“Lionel, I’m glad you’re here,” Brian said. “I didn’t want to go looking for you. Did you see Ron last night?”
Lionel nodded as he moved forward. He seemed resigned. “I saw him. He came in the barn and asked me to help at the turkey farm today. He said he wanted to make sure that someone who knew what they were doing was out there in case Gilly went into labor.
“Darren’s been so keyed up waiting for the baby Ron thought he might panic and leave everything unattended when she finally did go into labor so he asked me to handle it,” he continued. “I was happy to do it. In fact, I was on my way out there this morning when I heard the other guys talking about finding Ron’s body. I didn’t believe it at first so I came here to see for myself.”
“Did Ron seem distracted when you saw him?”
“He seemed normal,” Lionel answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, he was worked up about Gilly getting near her due date. He was really hoping for a grandson, although he mentioned that a granddaughter would be fine, too. He had no sons of his own but loved Gilly with his whole heart. That poor girl must be devastated.”
Wicked Season (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 7) Page 4
