by Anne Canadeo
Maggie had finished rolling the ball of yarn, and the end of the strand flew off. “That was dumb of us. I’ll try to think of it next time.”
Lucy was laughing as she left the shop to retrieve her dogs. Maggie spotted two customers on the front porch, petting them. She was thankful for the momentary delay and quickly put the yarn swift away.
• • •
“It was all very odd. I felt as if I was running around in a dream or a surrealist painting,” Maggie summed up.
That was the way Lucy had been picturing it. Maggie had begun describing the strange events of Saturday night shortly after they’d left the village. As they rounded the last turn to Ridley’s farm, they talked over the high points.
Lucy glanced over at her. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything when you fell in that ditch.”
“I was lucky the fencing was there. I never would have caught up to that last llama otherwise. They’ve been planting some new trees in that part of the orchard. Ellie told us later that Ridley’s dogs were getting in there and digging everything up, so they put up some temporary posts and wire fencing.”
“Another bone of contention between the Kruegers and Justin Ridley,” Lucy noted.
“Not that they needed any more on the list. But yes, you have to add that one, too. But since this event happened after Ridley’s death, it undermines Ben’s claim that Ridley was behind all the mischief.”
Lucy had thought of that, too. “What about the message that was painted on the barn? I wonder if a handwriting analyst could compare all the harassing notes that were sent to the Kruegers to the graffiti from Saturday night to figure out if it’s the same person. I wonder if they could match any of the notes to Justin Ridley’s handwriting.”
Maggie hadn’t thought of that. But it made sense. “If someone has a certain style of writing on paper, maybe it does carry over if they’re painting graffiti. But I don’t even know if the Kruegers saved the notes. Ellie said the first few times they were bothered, they didn’t want to report it to the police. Maybe they just threw any notes away.”
Lucy had forgotten about that. “Oh, right. Too bad.”
She recognized the stretch of road—she’d been out here so often lately—and knew they had only a few more miles to go before they came to Ridley’s farm and the Kruegers.
The days were getting shorter now, and dusk was already settling across the land. Lucy slowed down so she wouldn’t miss the entrance. A few moments later she saw an old green mailbox leaning to one side on the shoulder of the road, displaying the house number.
Lucy steered her Jeep through a narrow space chopped out from the trees and overgrown shrubs on either side of the rough dirt drive that led up to the house. Set on a small hill, the house was three stories high with a sharply peaked roof, rough dark brown shingles, dark green trim, and a porch in front, enclosed with screens.
Tall trees surrounded them as they emerged from the car into dark, cool shadows, though just a moment ago, out on the road, the fields and farms had been cast in golden light.
Some distance back, Lucy saw a big gray weather-beaten barn. An old car sat nearby with its wheels and engine hood missing and a tree sapling sat nearby, growing up through the engine block. The space between the house and barn was mostly high, thick weeds, and there were no tractors or farm machinery or even livestock to be seen.
But Lucy did see some solar panels set in a row, in a clearing between the house and barn.
A giant wooden pinwheel stood to one side of the barn, just about as tall as the house. The paddle-shaped blades of the wheel turned slowly in the breeze, and at first she thought it was a grain mill of some kind.
Then she realized it was a wind-powered generator, one that had allowed Ridley to stay off the grid. But she’d also heard from Farmer Kranowski that Ridley snuck back on occasionally, if he could. Lucy didn’t know what to believe.
Only one thing could be said for sure: It was a very gloomy, severe-looking place, just the way she imagined Justin Ridley’s personality.
“Looks like he didn’t even own a chicken,” she whispered to Maggie as they walked to the front door.
“Maybe the chickens flew the coop. Or committed poultry suicide. This place is so depressing,” she whispered back.
They started up the porch steps, Lucy in the lead, when the front door opened. Janine Ridley appeared. Lucy had told her that Maggie was coming along to help move the dog crates, so she didn’t have to explain her friend’s appearance.
“Good, you’re right on time. I have everything out on the porch. I can help you bring it down to your car,” Janine offered.
Lucy smiled. “Thanks. I think we can handle it.”
Rats. She really had been hoping to get a peek inside. Jack had heard a rumor that the police had found Ridley’s command center in an upstairs room—the walls covered with articles clipped from newspapers and magazines, all about the battle between land preservation advocates and development companies. He’d posted a big map of Essex County with Xs to mark the spots where his battle would be waged. And faces of the biggest offenders—like the Kruegers or Kranowski?—hung up in “Most Wanted” mug shots.
Dana wasn’t sure whether the story was true, but it seemed to fit Ridley’s legendary persona. Even if there had been such a psycho command center, Lucy knew the police would have taken it all down by now and brought it in as evidence. There would be nothing left to see, she consoled herself.
Lucy grabbed the two dog beds and headed back to the car. She heard Maggie greet Janine and strike up a conversation.
“How are things going, Janine? Did you finish that sweater?”
Janine smiled. “Not quite, but I’m getting there. I’m almost too tired at night to knit now that I’ve started cleaning out this house.”
Maggie nodded sympathetically. “You have a lot to do here, don’t you? Sorting through all of your father’s belongings.”
“He was a pack rat. No question. I’m giving most of it away to charities. They’re willing to come all the way out here and take furniture, clothes. Whatever.”
Lucy came back up to the porch and picked up a carton filled with dog bowls. “Are you going to put the property up for sale now?” Lucy asked boldly.
“Of course not. That was the last thing my father wanted.” Janine looked at Lucy as if she were either crazy or simpleminded. Lucy just smiled. With her blondish hair and easygoing manner, a lot of people assumed she wasn’t that bright.
She didn’t know what to say now and shifted the box to her other arm. It was heavier than she had expected.
“I think Lucy means sell it to the county as part of the protected land out here. There’s a rumor in town that your father was planning to do that,” Maggie added smoothly.
“That’s what I meant,” Lucy jumped in. “I knew he’d never sell to anyone who wouldn’t preserve it.”
“He wasn’t going to sell it. He bequeathed this land to the county in his will, with a stipulation that it never be resold or developed.”
Lucy and Maggie stared at her. Lucy felt like a deflated balloon. There went the real-estate scam theory. Suzanne would not be happy to hear that. The emptiness of the rumor showed Kranowski in a poor light and undermined the credibility of all the tales he’d spun. Lucy wondered now if he had just been trying to throw them off the track by tossing out that juicy but patently false tidbit.
Maggie was the first to respond. “How generous of him. He really was dedicated to the land, wasn’t he?”
“That is very noble. The town should put up some kind of plaque or something,” Lucy elaborated.
“He was noble and dedicated. He was all those things.” Janine met their gaze with cool dark eyes. She really did look like her father, Lucy thought again, the photo of him when he was a young man, in uniform.
“I could have used that money,” she said frankly. “But I knew about his plan, and I approved of it. I admire my father for doing this. He stood for something. Which
is more than a lot of people can ever say.”
“That’s true,” Lucy said sincerely.
“He may have seemed odd and a loner. Even unstable,” Janine Ridley added. “Deep inside, he was a better person, more moral and thoughtful, than a lot of people around here. A much better man than Ben Krueger. That’s for sure.”
Maggie frowned. “I can understand why you might think that. But—”
“Look, I know you’re friends with Ellie Krueger,” Janine cut in. “I feel sorry for her. Honestly. She’s probably a good person. But like many women, she’s been totally duped by her husband.”
Lucy glanced at Maggie. There was some truth in that accusation, they both knew. Ben had kept certain unsavory facts about his past hidden from Ellie, and who knew what else there was to uncover back there? But Lucy wondered if Janine even meant that. She wondered if she meant something else.
“Are saying that you think Ben Krueger killed your father? I think the police are trying hard to determine that,” Maggie countered in a calm, even tone. “I really don’t think it’s right to accuse anyone of such a serious offense without any real evidence.”
“I don’t think so. I know so,” Janine stated flatly. “The police know, too. They’re just waiting to find more evidence, more inconsistencies in his story. . . . I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ll hear it soon anyway. I think they have found something that will stick. That will finally put him behind bars.”
Lucy felt her pulse go from normal to overdrive in ten seconds flat. She stared at Janine. Maggie did, too.
“What kind of evidence?” Lucy asked. “What did they find?”
Janine looked down and shook her head. “Sorry . . . I can’t say. I shouldn’t have even given away that much. You’ll have to wait and see. It won’t be long before the police take action on it,” she added.
“Really?” Maggie’s voice rose on a note of alarm. Janine nodded.
Then she looked down at the boxes and the metal dog crates that had been taken apart and laid in pieces.
“I have someone else coming over soon. I’ll help you move these things to your car.” She looked eager to see them go and a bit embarrassed, Lucy realized, as if she had just realized she’d said too much.
“Of course . . . thanks.” Lucy turned and led the way to her car, carrying a box. Maggie took a bag in each hand, and Janine followed with sections of the wire crates.
A few minutes later, the porch was cleared. Maggie and Lucy got back into her Jeep, and Lucy turned the vehicle around to face the narrow drive. She saw Janine in her rearview mirror, watching from the top of the wooden steps, her arms folded against the cool night air.
Lucy felt chilled, too, but for a different reason entirely.
Before she could say a word to Maggie, a pair of headlights faced them, coming up the drive. She squinted and hit her brakes.
“Busy spot for such an out-of-the-way place,” Maggie said drily. She glanced out her window and watched the shiny black SUV pass by and turn to park in front of the house. As Lucy started down to the road again, she saw a woman emerge from the SUV, wearing jeans and a black poncho. A long braid swung from side to side as she hopped up the steps.
“Angelica Rossi,” Maggie said. “I’d know that alpaca cape anywhere. She’s quite proud of it. I’m surprised it doesn’t have some advertisement for Sweet Meadow yarns stitched into the pattern.”
“It’s logical Angelica would befriend Janine. She was close to her father.”
“And they both want to get rid of the Kruegers . . . for different reasons, of course,” Maggie remarked.
The Jeep had slowly rolled down the dark drive, and Lucy turned onto the road. But she didn’t hit the gas and make a beeline for town, even though it was getting late.
“What should we do? Should we tell Ellie and Ben what Janine just said? It may have been a lot of wishful thinking on her part,” Lucy realized. “But maybe we should warn them, just in case.”
“I think you’re right. Let’s just stop there right now. It’s hardly out of our way.”
Lucy pulled a quick U-turn on the deserted road and headed for the Kruegers’ place.
Minutes later, she turned at the familiar sign. But her stomach lurched when she spotted two white police cruisers and a dark blue sedan parked in front of the farmhouse. The lights on top of the cruisers were turning in slow circles, casting the scene in an eerie blue glow.
She turned to Maggie. “The police. . . . I wonder if they’re here to arrest Ben.”
“Let’s hope not. Maybe something else happened . . . though I hate to wish for that, either,” Maggie added.
Lucy brought her Jeep to a stop a short distance from the police cars. “Should we get out? Detective Walsh will be mad if he sees us here. And Ellie might feel we’re intruding.”
Maggie thought a moment. “I think Ellie will be happy to see some friendly faces . . . and I can take the heat from Walsh if you can. We’re just doing errands in the neighborhood, living our lives, right?”
Lucy nodded, glad that Maggie had reminded them of that. “We have every right. . . . Let’s go.”
They jumped out of the Jeep and walked up to the front door. Just as they approached, it opened. A police officer in a blue uniform walked out first, followed by Ben, who was followed by another officer and, finally, Detective Walsh.
When he saw the two women waiting at the bottom of the porch, his mouth hung open a moment. “What are you two doing here? Do you have a police radio hidden in your knitting bag?” he asked Maggie.
Lucy had to laugh at the idea, though he sounded perfectly serious. And angry.
“No, I don’t . . . but that is an idea,” Maggie countered.
“Whatever you’re here for . . . you’re too late.” Walsh prodded the parade along and came down to face them. But before he could say more, Ben stopped in his tracks and looked over at Lucy and Maggie.
“I’ll be out in a few hours. Just make sure Ellie calls my lawyer and stay with her, will you? I don’t need her at the station. She gets too upset.”
“Yes, Ben. We can do that,” Maggie promised.
“Move along,” Walsh said to the officers and Ben. Then he brushed past Maggie and Lucy and headed for his car.
Ellie was in the doorway, watching everything. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her face pale and drawn. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Did Dana call you?”
Lucy was confused but then realized Ellie must have just called Dana and asked her to come out to the farm.
“We’ll explain everything inside, Ellie,” Maggie promised. “What are they charging Ben with?” she added as they walked inside. Lucy could tell she didn’t want to say the word “murder” if she didn’t have to.
Ellie sighed and closed the door behind them. “It’s not even about Justin Ridley,” she began, her voice sounding shaky. “They say . . . Ben has been doing all those things . . . all the vandalism, the threatening notes. The police say they have proof that he came back to the farm Saturday night and let the llamas loose . . . and painted that message on the barn.”
Lucy felt as if someone had just socked her in the stomach. She knew she was standing there with her eyes bugging out and her mouth hanging open, but she was simply dumbstruck and couldn’t speak.
Maggie stared wide-eyed at Ellie for a moment and pressed her hand to her forehead. “How in the world do they know that?”
Ellie shrugged, a hopeless, defeated gesture. “I’m not sure. Ben’s attorney will find out. The police have to tell him. They’re charging him with criminal mischief and filing a false police report.”
That’s why Ben had been so reluctant to go to the police when these incidents occurred, Lucy realized. He knew that once the police started to investigate, they’d be bound to trace the harassment back to him, sooner or later. No matter how clever he was about covering his tracks.
But Lucy didn’t want to say that out loud. She wasn’t sure if Ellie still believed Ben was innocent,
and it didn’t seem right to talk about him as if he was definitely guilty.
“Have you called his attorney yet, Ellie?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, I did that first thing, while the police were still here. Then I called Dana. Did she call you? How did you get here so quickly?”
“We were just down the road, at Ridley’s farm. Lucy had to pick something up there. . . . It doesn’t matter,” Maggie said quickly. “Janine Ridley told us that the police had found some new evidence against Ben. She didn’t tell us what it was, though.”
“We were coming to warn you,” Lucy explained.
“Oh . . . I see.” Ellie nodded. She seemed a bit in shock, Lucy thought. She sensed that Maggie had noticed this, too.
Maggie gently took Ellie’s arm. “Sit down, Ellie. Why don’t I get you something? How about a shot of brandy?”
“Do I look that bad?” Ellie forced a smile, but her mouth trembled. “Oh, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. That’s what they give people in the movies, isn’t it?”
They had walked into the parlor and Maggie led Ellie to a chintz love seat. “Yes, it is, and for good reason,” she added. She walked over to a small antique chest that held a silver tray of liquor bottles and glasses, then poured some liquor from a crystal decanter and handed it to Ellie.
Lucy watched her sip from the delicate glass, staring blankly into space.
All of this pretty furniture and the antiques purchased with such care and enthusiasm to make this house look just right, a stage set really, of a cozy country home. It suddenly seemed so sad. All of Ellie’s hopes and dreams had come to such an empty, sordid end.
Ellie sipped her brandy and shook her head. “Our own farm? Ben has been the one all along? . . . I can’t believe it,” she murmured.
“Do you think he really did this, Ellie?” Maggie asked gently. “Did you ever suspect anything?”
Ellie shook her head. “Never. . . . I can’t understand it. He always seemed so angry and surprised. He kept insisting that no one was going to chase us off the farm or make us give up the property. Even when I would have doubts and say, Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we should sell the place and go back to the city . . .” Ellie shook her head, as if trying to recall pieces of a dream.
