“What can I get you?” Soapy asked, coming up behind him as we shook.
“I’ll have one of your caramel apple lattes,” I said.
“Make it two.” Arnie set his briefcase on the floor and sat down. “I was surprised to hear from you,” he told me. “I didn’t think you had any interest in the offer.”
“It never hurts to have all the information,” I said. “Is your client interested in living in Ellsworth House or using it as a commercial property?”
“Both actually. It’s a prime location for my client’s business interest and a lovely home.”
“What is your client’s business?”
“They’ve asked me not to divulge that information.”
“That’s odd. What are they hiding?” I shouldn’t have asked the question. It was a natural response, but it seemed to put him on edge.
“Hiding? Nothing. They would like the offer to stand on financial merit alone.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. I have friends and neighbors to think about. I wouldn’t sell to just anyone.”
“I can assure you that selling to my client would be just like keeping Ellsworth House in the family.”
It was a strange thing to say. The entire conversation made me uneasy. There was so much below the surface that he wasn’t saying for some reason.
“Do you wish to know the offer amount?” Arnie asked.
“First I’d like to know if your client is aware of the two homicides we’ve had in town recently. I’m surprised that anyone would want to live so close to where both of the victims were found.”
“A most tragic situation. My client is fully aware of the circumstances surrounding both cases.”
“And they aren’t put off by having a murderer on the loose?”
“I’m confident the police have arrested the culprit.”
“Which one? Andy Beaumont, John Bridgemaker, or Paul Foxtracker?”
“I can’t say, but I have faith in our officers.”
I leaned forward and stared him down. It was a bold move, but I had something by the tail here, I could feel it, and I wasn’t letting go. “John and Paul are your clients. They were at the Landow Farm the morning Butch was killed. He wouldn’t sell his farm to them for their casino. Did they kill him? Did Phillis Landow inherit the farm, and is she going to sell to them?”
He uncrossed his legs and leaned over the table, meeting me glare for glare. “You’re treading into territory you know nothing about. I wouldn’t go digging up dirt on that farm if I were you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you.”
A ripple of fear shot through me at the coldness in his icy gray eyes. I no longer felt safe sitting at this table with this man, even if I was in the middle of the Soapy Savant with my friends a few yards away. He could be the murderer. He could have a gun in his briefcase.
I sat back and called out the Action Agency’s secret code word. “I’m hungry. I wish they served ham on pumpernickel here.”
My abrupt shift of topic confused him. He sat back and tilted his head. “Perhaps a pastry?”
“I really have a craving for pumpernickel for some reason.” I pretended to scratch my ankle and glanced at the corner table. Not one of my agency members were paying one bit of attention to me. Roy and Johnna were bickering about something, and Elaina was styling Logan’s hair with coffee stirrers while Anna laughed her head off. Rutherford could’ve hauled me out of there by my earlobes and they would be none the wiser.
“Well, Mrs. Hayman, it was … enlightening … speaking with you this morning,” he said, rising from the table. “I can’t help but think this meeting was your way of questioning me about Mr. Landow. Be careful. One day you just might question the wrong person.”
With those menacing words of parting, he whipped his briefcase off the floor and stormed out.
“Didn’t even wait for his latte,” Soapy said, approaching the table with two steaming mugs.
“He was in a hurry. I’ll take one to go.”
He sat in the vacated chair. “What was that all about? You look like you don’t know if you’re coming or going.”
“I don’t.”
“That man’s a realtor, I do know that. Are you and Ben thinking of selling?”
“No. It’s a long story.” I tried for a reassuring smile, but being cautioned about poking my nose into something I’d regret made it hard.
Soapy reached over and patted my hand. “If you need help with anything all you need to do is ask.”
I nodded, tears brimming in my eyes. My neighbors—my friends—were more supportive than they could ever realize. “I know. Thanks, Soapy.”
“I do want to give you a heads up about something I saw this morning, though.”
Before he rained more news I wasn’t prepared for down on my head, I took a sip of the steaming, caramel sweetness, closing my eyes to savor the hot coffee hitting my stomach.
“Mia was dropped off this morning in front of the Soda Pop Shop. It was a car I’d never seen before. Cameron, it was a boy driving. They kissed before she got out.”
The coffee in my gut instantly froze along with all of my extremities. “What?” I’d heard him, but it was all I could think to say.
“I’m sorry. I thought you should know. I was going to tell Ben when he stopped in for his mid-day coffee, but you came in first today.”
“Lucky me.”
The door jingled, and Soapy got up. “Customers.” He gave me a comforting smile before leaving the table.
Mia and a boy. A boy who dropped her off this morning at Steph’s house, where she changed her clothes and then came home and lied about staying overnight with her friend. Sixteen was way too young to be out all night, but add a boy into the mix and this was grounds for locking her in the house until she turned eighteen.
How in the world would I break this to Ben? He was going to lose his mind.
Being a stepmom had never been glamorous, but Mia and I had made big strides since she came to stay this past summer. This was the first major issue I’d had to face. I was in over my head. I needed an experienced mother to give me advice.
Elaina plopped down in the chair across from me. “That girl of yours has been out cattin’ around,” she said.
“Good gravy.” I let my head fall into my hands. Did the whole town know? This wasn’t the experienced mom I was hoping would help me.
“Now, I don’t mean to tell you how to raise her up,” she said, wagging her finger at me, “but when Sue acted up like that, I made her stand knee deep in the canal and tell everybody who walked by what she did.”
That punishment sounded a bit too Scarlet Letter for me, but I got her drift. Severe consequences. “I think I know just how to get through to her,” I said.
Mia would hate me for the rest of her life for what I was about to do, but it had to be done. She hadn’t broken a little rule, or refused to do the dishes; this was major, and she’d know I meant business. This punishment was something only I had the power to do, not Ben.
Mia would know not to cross me when I told her she wasn’t allowed to be in the Princess Pumpkin Pageant.
Or whatever it was called.
• Thirteen •
Arnie’s guilty as sin,” Johnna said, sitting at my dining room table knitting. We’d all come back to Ellsworth House to go over what we knew about Butch’s murder, which wasn’t a lot.
“We have no proof of that,” Roy said, taking a nip from his flask.
“It’s not even noon!” Anna swiped the flask from his hand, screwed the top on, and stashed it in her backpack. “You’ll get that back when we’re done.”
He crossed his arms, brooding.
Logan tapped on his laptop keyboard, then swiveled it around to face us. “There’s a first-degre
e connection between Mr. Rutherford and the Mound Builders’ Association,” he said, pointing at the screen. “He won a lawsuit for them ten years ago when a supermarket bought a parcel of property and found an American Indian earth mound situated on it.”
“Rutherford’s been associated with John and Paul for ten years,” Johnna said. “Big deal. That’s not illegal.”
“It’s a connection that goes beyond this case,” Logan argued.
“He did a good job and they hired him again,” Johnna said, looping blue yarn around her knitting needle. “Not illegal.”
“Okay,” I said, “so we don’t have a smoking gun. We’re building a case, though. What else do we have?”
“Isn’t the spouse, or ex-spouse, the first person the police usually suspect?” Anna said. “Has she been questioned?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I called Phillis about turning off the electric fence for Canal Days so we could have the farmers’ market there. She twisted and turned the conversation, and by the time we hung up I didn’t know up from down. I still don’t know if she can turn the fence off.”
“I’ll handle her,” Johnna said, turning to the sideboard where an antique telephone sat. “What’s this about a fence?”
“You know Phillis?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“Nobody ever said we were trying to get info from her!”
“I didn’t?” I thought back. I guess I hadn’t. I remembered discussing Phillis with Cass, Mom, Monica, even Stewart at the BBQ, but not my own Action Agency members. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with Canal Days and my mom’s visit, and—”
“And you’ve neglected us,” Roy said.
“We know, dear,” Johnna said. “You have a lot on your plate. Now be quiet so I can worm information from Phillis.” She dialed the number and held the receiver to her ear.
We sat silent as stones, eyes locked on Johnna. Behind the pocket door, muted sounds of Mom, Monica, and Quinn murmuring and bowls and baking pans clinking could be heard in the kitchen. Then there was a loud giggling from outside the open dining room windows.
“Get your sticky fingers off of me, Elaina!” Old Dan bellowed.
“It’s Grandma Diggity!” she called. “Come back here and have some honey!”
Roy shook his head. “The libido on that woman is astounding.”
At her age it was remarkable, I had to give her that.
“Hello? Phillis, this Johnna. Are you going to turn off your fence for Canal Days or not? We’re down to the wire, dear, and need to finish planning. Oh, I see. I’m sorry to hear that. Who can answer that question for me?” Johnna shot us a wink. “You don’t? I thought you might know considering your close history with Butch’s brother.”
She shifted in her chair and picked up her knitting, weaving her yarn like she wove Phillis into a frenzy on the line. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t tell a soul.”
Roy put his forearm over his mouth, laughing quietly into his sleeve.
“She’s good,” Anna whispered to me.
“Very.”
“No need to explain to me,” Johnna continued. “These things happen. So, about that fence. Who owns the property now that Butch is gone? Really? It’s not in probate? So who owns it then? Hmm … that’s interesting. And you don’t know who owns Track Times, Inc.? I see. Well, we’ll make alternate plans for the farmers’ market. Take care, Phillis.”
We waited until Johnna finished saying goodbye and hung up before pouncing. “What did she say?” I asked.
“She doesn’t own the farm. She doesn’t know who it transferred to. The will named a company called Track Times.”
“Track Times,” Anna repeated. “Times … like a newspaper?”
“Track, like horse track, more like,” Roy said. “’Cept he didn’t bet on horses, now did he?”
“No,” I said, my mind racing around the details. “There’s something missing. Something that ties everything together.”
“Good luck catchin’ me,” Old Dan shouted from outside.
“I can’t think with that racket,” Roy said.
Logan started taking notes. “We’ll rope off the area.”
“What area? What are you talking about, boy?” Roy asked. “You’re off on another topic again, ain’t ya?”
“The farmers’ market,” Logan said. “We’ll run a rope in front of the fence.”
“Right,” I said. “Good idea, Logan.”
“Break time,” Johnna declared, standing and stretching. “I think I’ve earned a snack. What do you have to eat?”
I got up and opened the pocket door, and the five of us ambled into the kitchen. “They’ve emerged from their work,” Mom said, kneading dog biscuit dough. “We could use some reinforcements.”
“These troops are here for food,” Roy corrected, opening my pantry.
Anna smacked his hand. “You can’t just go opening people’s cupboards, that’s rude.”
“Girlie, you’re lucky I like you.”
“If you’re not helping, you have to get out of the kitchen!” Monica shouted. Her hair frizzed out of her pony tail, her eye makeup was smeared, and her chest heaved. This was a woman on the verge of hysteria.
“I think Old Dan could use some help,” Quinn said, herding my Action Agency out of the kitchen. “I’ll run and pick up some sandwiches for lunch if someone wants to come with me.”
“I will,” Logan said. I smiled. My introverted brainiac was eager to get out of this house of chaos.
“Conan, come!” Quinn commanded, and his dog was at his heels at the front door in two seconds flat.
Outside, they crossed the sidewalk and got into Quinn’s pickup. Metamora Mike waddled after them as fast as his stubby little legs would go. He’d had enough of the rowdiness, too, apparently.
“Keep away, now.” In the yard, Old Dan held a long stick between himself and Elaina.
She grinned like the devil and wiggled honey-covered fingers. “A little honey for my honey!”
“I’m not your honey. Stay back, you hear?”
I stepped off the porch and my foot landed on something that rolled underneath it. I went down hard, flat on my bottom on the last stair step. It hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Don’t move,” Anna said. “You might have fractured something.”
“Busted her butt, you mean,” Roy said, kneeling down next to me. He picked up a glass canning jar. “This is the culprit.”
“They’re collecting honey out of the old hive in the porch column,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Looks like they’re doing more than that,” he said, eyeing Elaina and Old Dan.
“Help her up,” Anna said, putting an arm around me.
“I’m okay,” I assured her, getting to my feet. “Just needed a minute to catch my breath.”
Johnna had picked up another jar and was breaking off pieces of honey comb from the column. “You don’t mind if I take some, do you?”
Taking things that don’t belong to her was Johnna’s specialty, but I didn’t mind giving her some honey. I had an overabundance after all. “Take some. All of you, take some. I’ve got plenty to go around.”
“We should sell it,” Roy said. “Get new desks for the agency. Those little kid seats are hard as rock.”
“We should!” Anna grabbed another glass jar and ran up the porch steps. “I bet we could get ten dollars a jar.”
“Look in here,” Johnna said, standing on tip-toe. “We could get a hundred jars out of this.”
“We’re going to need more jars,” Roy said. “I’ll go get some.”
“They don’t have canning jars at the Cornerstone,” Anna snapped.
“I wasn’t going to the Cornerstone, Little Miss Sassy. Right next door here at Schoolhouse Antiques. Will has a bunch of ’em.” He crosse
d my yard, heading for Will Atkins’s antique shop. “I’ll bring you a receipt, Cameron.”
“Great.” I hadn’t given my go-ahead, but it seemed I’d be reimbursing this latest project. “I hope we can sell enough to cover the cost of the jars.”
“We’ll make a killing,” Johnna said, scooping honey into a jar with her knitting needle.
“I’m going inside to check on Monica.” I stepped over the stray metal lids on the porch, not eager to fall back down on my keister.
“She could use a nip off Roy’s flask if you ask me,” Johnna said.
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
Inside, the house was warm from the oven and smelled sweet from the honey. Mom was placing small dog bone–shaped treats into bags. “This tray makes twenty-eight dozen,” she said. “We’ll make it.”
Monica stood at the sink drinking water, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “The shop won’t be ready. Frank Gardner’s working on booths for Canal Days and doesn’t have time to help with Dog Diggity. Old Dan can’t do it on his own. He was going to go over, but I told him not to.”
“That was a good idea,” I said. “I’d hate to think of something happening to him over there by himself.” I leaned against the counter beside her. “Don’t worry. Andy will get out of jail soon and he’ll have the shop finished in no time.”
She shook her head. “I really hoped it would be open for this weekend. I can’t believe they’d think Andy had anything to do with killing someone.”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“Working on finding out the identity of a murderer?” Mom asked. “Leave that to Ben and the police. Your job is to put on Canal Days, not put yourself in danger. If you want to go into law enforcement, then you need training and a badge. Until then, I don’t want to hear anymore about you playing private detective. Understand me?”
“Mom, I’m not ten years old. I don’t need you telling me what to do and what not to do. Speaking of telling kids what not to do, is Mia upstairs?”
“She left right after you did this morning,” Monica said.
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