I’d looked up the house online after dinner with Marigold the other night, so I knew it was a small three-bedroom home with one bathroom. The place needed refurbishing badly, if not a complete renovation. At the very least, the wiring and plumbing had to be updated soon. And add a powder room for heaven’s sake. No one should have to live with only one bathroom.
The man waved. “Mac, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Rafe. Thought I’d take a drive out to see how you’re doing.”
“That’s awfully nice of you.” He walked down the steps toward us.
“This is my friend Shannon Hammer.”
“Shannon Hammer.” He held out his arm and we shook hands. “You’re the contractor?”
“Yes, I am,” I said, surprised that he knew who I was.
“It’s great to meet you,” he said, holding on to my hand. “Marigold has told me all about you. I can tell she has terrific friends.”
“Thank you. She’s pretty terrific herself.”
“She’s fantastic,” he said softly.
I glanced around. “So, are you living out here now?”
“Temporarily,” he said, grinning dolefully. “The house is tiny and needs a ton of work done to it. I was living at the Inn on Main Street for a few weeks, but decided I needed to be out here to take care of business. So I bit the bullet and made the move.”
I wondered what kind of business he was taking care of out here, but I kept my mouth shut for now.
“I was actually going to call you this week, Shannon,” Rafe continued. “But I got distracted. I’ve been fiddling with a new idea out in the barn and I tend to get wrapped up and forgetful when I’m working on something new.”
I stared at him. “You were going to call me?”
“Yeah. You come highly recommended by Marigold. I guess it’s obvious I need to renovate this house. Are you available?”
Wow, just a minute ago, I’d been thinking about what needed to be done to the place and here was Rafe, offering me the job. I was caught just a little off guard. “Uh, wow. Yes, of course. I’d be happy to help you. You might want to get another opinion or two, but I’ll be glad to look things over and give you an estimate.” I rummaged through my purse and handed him a card.
“Great.” He smiled then, and I could see what had attracted Marigold to him. The man was pretty darn gorgeous. And tall. His skin was a beautiful, smooth shade of café au lait with a shot of warm brandy added to it. His dark hair was cut short and his eyes twinkled with intelligence and humor. But it was his smile that won me over.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, “you guys want to see my new toy? Come on.”
He sounded like an excited kid about to try out his new model race car. He didn’t wait for us, just led the way to the barn. Mac and I both followed, of course. His excitement was infectious.
The house was a wreck, and from the outside, the barn didn’t look much better. But inside, things were different. The barn had been transformed into a warehouse filled with large vehicle parts and, along the sides, stacks of boxes apparently filled with smaller vehicle parts and lots of electronics. There was stuff everywhere, but it was all laid out precisely. So there seemed to be some sort of method to Rafe’s madness.
“Here it is,” Rafe said, pointing to the heavy-duty contraption in the middle of the space.
“Wow,” I said, studying the machine with absolutely no clue what I was looking at. “What is it?”
He grinned. “It’s a solar-powered tractor. I built it and now I’m modifying it to fit a front-end loader and a backhoe. I could go out and buy one fully equipped, but what’s the fun in that?” He gave the top of one of the wheel wells a friendly tap. “It’s got solar panels on the cab roof and over the wheels. The cab is air-conditioned, too.”
“Good selling point,” Mac said, nodding in approval as he moved around the vehicle, checking out every inch of it in a very male way.
Rafe continued to describe the thing and I was glad Mac was paying attention, because I had lost track of the conversation back at solar-powered tractor. It wasn’t because his words weren’t interesting, but because I was more fascinated by Raphael Nash, the man himself, than by his latest invention. After all, if things fell into place, he might someday marry my friend Marigold. I considered it my sacred duty to make sure that he lived up to the high standards any friend would demand for her girlfriend.
So far, I liked him.
Mac couldn’t resist taking a ride on the tractor, and then we spent another half hour chatting while Rafe showed us the farm.
“How are the wind turbines working for you?” Mac asked.
“They’re awesome. It’s only been a few weeks and I’m almost completely off the grid.”
“They’re huge,” I murmured, staring up at a shaft that had to be at least sixty feet high.
“They have to be tall enough to catch the wind without anything blocking them. You want your wind tower to be the tallest thing on your land. And generally speaking, the higher the tower, the more kilowatts you can collect.”
“I didn’t realize they were so loud.” We had all begun to raise our voices to be heard over the sound.
“That’s why I put them all the way out here,” he said. “I didn’t want them in the pasture, disturbing the animals, or anywhere near the house. I can’t hear them when I’m inside the house or the barn.”
“You’re right,” I said, gazing back at the barn and gauging the distance we had walked. “I didn’t actually hear them until we got closer.”
“See?” He grinned, then added, “I’m working on something that will reduce the noise.”
“I’d be interested in hearing about that,” Mac said, “but not this afternoon. We’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad you swung by.”
“I am, too,” I said, as Rafe led the way back toward the house.
“Next time you visit,” he said as we walked, “I’ll introduce you to some of my cattle.”
I turned around, looking for signs of animals. “You have cattle?”
“Nothing yet,” he said. “But they should be arriving in the next few days. I figured since I have a farm now, I should have some farm animals.”
“Sounds fair,” I said carefully. “What kinds of animals?”
“Ten milking cows and three horses.”
“Will you also be hiring a farmhand or two?” Was I being too obvious? Maybe I was pushing it, but I was dying to know how he intended to milk all those cows. I wanted to assure him it wouldn’t be Marigold doing the work, but I figured the two of them would have to talk it out by themselves.
He grinned. “Don’t you think I can handle it, Shannon?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can. I just . . . hmm.”
He chuckled. “I was teasing you. Don’t worry. I plan to hire someone who actually knows what he’s doing. He’ll start next week, setting up a mechanized milking parlor. Then when the cows arrive, they’ll be good to go.”
I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding on Marigold’s behalf. “That sounds great. Ten cows will produce a lot of milk.”
“I know.” He grinned again. “Someone suggested that I only needed one cow. But I have so much land and I didn’t want the one cow to get lonely, so I ended up with ten of them. I’ll have way too much milk for just me, so I’ll either give away the excess or go into the ice cream business or something.”
I was so bowled over by his concern for lonely cows that it took me a few seconds to realize he had uttered the words ice cream. “I’ll be glad to do some taste testing for you.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” he said with a laugh.
We all shook hands and I gave him a welcoming hug, and then we took off. I couldn’t wait to call my girlfriends to let them know I had met the mysterious R
aphael Nash. And big surprise, I liked him a lot. Especially since I could now report that he was going to be hiring himself an honest-to-goodness cowhand. Or maybe he was called a cow milker? I really had no idea. Either way, it was good news for Marigold. And for me, too. Hello, ice cream? Who wouldn’t love a guy like that?
• • •
Driving back to town, Mac wanted to talk about Joe Scully. “You didn’t say much about Joe while we were talking with Amanda.”
“No. I decided I didn’t want to say anything while she was sitting there with us. She’s my employee, so I didn’t want her to see us going on and on about suspects and motives and murder.”
“I get it.” He flashed a cockeyed grin. “We have way too much fun talking about murder.”
“I know.” I laughed. “It’s weird.”
“No way. Perfectly normal. Anyway, now that we’re alone, what can you tell me?”
“He was stabbed in the abdomen with a sharpened quarter-inch chisel.”
“Oh man. You got a good look at the body?”
“Oh yeah. The wound. The weapon. The blood.”
“Lucky you,” he said flatly. “Usually a lot of blood with an abdominal wound.”
“Tell me about it.”
He reached for my hand and held on to it as we drove. That connection felt warm and comforting and I was able to let the blood-soaked memory of Joe Scully fade from my mind.
“Instead of going out,” he said after a moment, “why don’t we stop and pick up some steaks and potatoes?”
“That is a fantastic idea.”
“I do come up with them,” he said, smiling as he came to a stop at Queen Anne Hill.
“There’s Marigold’s water tower,” I said, pointing out the sunshine yellow tower—not that I needed to show him. The thing was like a neon beacon in the sky.
“Kind of hard to miss, isn’t it?” He stared at it for a moment, then proceeded to turn onto Main Street. “We can talk more about the murder while we make dinner.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do with you.”
He laughed. “Well, I could always paint a water tower for you.”
“That would be nice, too,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But I’d much rather spend our time figuring out who killed Joe Scully.”
Still grinning, he pulled into the supermarket parking lot. “Steaks. Wine. Candlelight. Murder. Just a couple of romantic fools.”
Chapter Seven
While the potatoes baked, I did a little predinner gardening in order to fill our salad bowl. I plucked two ripe tomatoes, cut off some leaves of romaine from the larger head, and grabbed a clump of green onions from the dirt.
Mac seasoned the steaks, then poured a glass of wine for each of us. He sat down at the kitchen table and played with Robbie and Tiger while I washed the veggies and cut up half a cucumber to add to the salad.
I gazed at him. “I’m still flummoxed about Scully’s murder. He was found at the Derrys’ house, but I can’t believe either of them would kill him. Especially Joan. She’s so nice.”
“It’s always hard to believe that anyone we know might be capable of murder.” Tiger jumped up onto his lap and he stroked her soft fur. “But it happens. How many times have I had a nice person turn out to be the killer in one of my books? Nice people make great killers.”
“Good to know. I’ll never look at my friends the same way again.”
“I’m here to help.” He grinned. “Do you know how well the Derrys knew the victim?”
“Pretty well. Scully’s son-in-law remodeled the Derrys’ basement.”
Mac stopped in midstroke. “Interesting.” He picked up his wineglass and swirled it a few times. “So it sounds like they were friends.”
“It’s hard to picture anyone being friends with Scully, but I guess it’s possible.” But the more I thought about that argument the Derrys had had with Scully out in front of their house the other day, the less likely it seemed. I described the incident to Mac. “So yeah, they might’ve been friends once upon a time, but at this point, they’re not even friends adjacent.”
“That is an interesting concept.”
Now I smiled at him. “It works for this situation.”
Mac set Tiger down on the floor and walked over to the sink to wash his hands before joining me at the chopping block, where I was prepping the salad. “How about if you tell me everything that happened this morning?”
“Okay.” I mentally retraced my steps. “I parked in front of the Jorgensens’ house. A few minutes later I saw Amanda arrive. I jumped out of my truck to greet her, and that’s when Joan Derry came running around the side of her house, shrieking that someone was dead.”
“That got your attention.”
“You bet it did.” I chopped the green onions, then added them to the salad bowl. “I dashed across the street and grabbed Joan. She pointed toward the backyard and tried to get the words out, but she was too rattled to speak, so I just took off running up the side of the house. I noticed that the orangery was open, and when I got closer, I saw the body. I didn’t even realize Amanda was behind me until that moment. Suddenly she’s there and asking me if he’s dead.”
“Freak you out a little?”
“Yeah, a little.” That was putting it mildly, but I didn’t want to sound like a complete wimp.
Mac grabbed a small chunk of cucumber and popped it into his mouth. “So, then what happened?”
“I asked Amanda to go call the police and begged her to try and get Joan to calm down.”
“So Amanda went off to make the call and find Joan, leaving you alone outside the orangery. What did you do?”
Before I answered, I glanced around the room nervously, as though someone might’ve been listening in. “I walked into the orangery.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, grinning. “What did you see?”
I pictured the scene in my mind. “One of the glass panes was cracked. Some pillows that belonged on the window bench were on the floor. A plant had fallen and some of the dirt was spilled on the carpet.”
“And Joe Scully?” he prompted.
I sighed heavily, hating to remember but unable to forget. “He was lying in the center of the room, completely dead. His eyes were open.”
“His eyes were open?” He grimaced. “Gross.”
“Totally gross.” I rubbed my stomach, feeling unsettled by the memory. Honestly, was I ever going to get used to stumbling across bodies? I kind of hoped I wouldn’t. “And the chisel handle was sticking out of his stomach.”
He exhaled slowly. “Wow.”
“Yeah.” I concentrated on drying the lettuce leaves and breaking them into bite-sized pieces.
“Tell me about the chisel handle.”
“It was a good one,” I said after a moment. “Not some cheap tool. I could tell at a glance that the handle was made of expensive hardwood.”
“Not one of your tools, I hope.”
“No,” I said, letting out my own relieved breath. That was something I didn’t want to go through again.
“Do you know who it belongs to?”
“I’m almost afraid to say it. But it might belong to one of my guys. I had two of them working full-time on the dry rot problem.”
He grimaced. “Okay. Don’t think about that right now. Let’s get back to the orangery. What else did you see?”
I flicked him a quick glance. “Well, this is kind of fortuitous. But while I was looking around, I suddenly remembered that I had taken pictures of the room earlier in the week.”
He grabbed his wineglass. “How did you happen to be there taking pictures?”
“I had gone there to talk to Joan about her dry rot problem. When we were finished surveying the damage to her basement, I asked if I could see the orangery because we were about to build one for the Jorgen
sens.” I shrugged and never stopped chopping. “I wanted to see how they’d built the brick base and also check on the way it was connected to the outside wall of the house.”
“So you took pictures of the same room a few days ago. Yeah, fortuitous is the right word.”
“Right?” I gave him an approving smile. “So when I saw all the damage, I got my phone out to compare things. For instance, I wanted to make sure that the glass wasn’t already cracked before.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
“So it must’ve happened during some kind of scuffle or fight with the killer.”
“That’s what I thought. Same goes for the pillows and the plant on the floor.”
“Anything else?”
I sighed again. Couldn’t seem to help myself. “I found Johnny’s tool chest just inside the door leading to the rest of the house.” I pulled Dijon mustard and wine vinegar from the refrigerator to make a vinaigrette for the salad.
“What was his tool chest doing there?”
I frowned. “I think Colin’s was there, too. He’s one of my new guys.”
“So both tool chests were stored near the door leading to the orangery? How do you know they belonged to your guys?”
As I reached for the olive oil on the counter near the stove, I explained about Johnny’s distinctive stainless steel case. “I assumed when I saw the two cases that maybe Joan had offered to let them store their tools in the house while they’re working there.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’m not sure it does. Why didn’t they just keep them in the basement instead of all the way upstairs?” I leaned back against the counter and munched on a baby carrot. “Then again, maybe there was too much dust down there and they wanted to keep them clean. Or maybe they’d already carried them upstairs when Joan suggested that they keep their tools there.”
“Either of those possibilities works for me.”
“The best thing would be to just ask Johnny.”
“Right. So, are you thinking the murder weapon belongs to one of your guys?”
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