"Riverboat casinos?"
She narrowed her eyes at me and crossed her arms. "Why do you care about the Whartons so much?"
It was my turn to evade. "Habit, I guess"
Evelyn stood up. "I probably shouldn't have talked to you so much," she said.
"I'm glad you did," I said. "One last question," I added as she led me to the door. "Was it common knowledge that Bug was allergic to bees?"
She shook her head. "He didn't talk about it. Viewed it as some kind of weakness."
Which meant whoever had filled that EpiPen was close enough to Bug to know he had a deadly Achilles' heel. "What kind of work do you do, by the way?"
"Who, me? I'm a nurse practitioner. That's how Bug and I met, actually. He asked me out after an appointment." The memory brought back a rush of emotion, and she dabbed at her eyes as she opened the door for me.
Before stepping out, I fished a card out of my back pocket. "If you're ever in Buttercup, feel free to stop by," I said.
She studied the card. "You have a farm stand?"
"No," I said, "but I have plenty of jam around the place, and fresh veggies. I'm happy to share."
"Thanks," she said. "But I have no reason to go back to Buttercup. Ever."
A moment later I was on the front porch, the card still in my hand, wondering about Evelyn Crawley... and whether her grief was quite as genuine as it had seemed.
Houston felt as far away as China when I drove past Buttercup's Town Square two hours later. To my relief, there were no goats or wayward cows nosing at the chrysanthemums flanking the Town Hall, and the winter veggie starts and pansies on display in front of the Red and White were equally unmolested by Dewberry Farm's prodigal livestock. Autumn displays decorated the storefronts; Fannie's Antiques was filled with red and gold leaves and vintage fall linens, and the Blue Onion's window featured loaves of gourds and pumpkins interspersed with gorgeous braided loaves and the pumpkin bars I had frosted at the cafe. I stopped to tell Quinn what I'd learned about Jed, but the doors were locked and she didn't answer her door, so I called and left a message instead.
A few minutes later, I bumped over the railroad tracks, waving at Bessie Mae, and headed not to Dewberry Farm but toward the Honeyed Moon winery. I had a few questions for Aimee, and I wasn't in the mood to be lied to.
Aimee was walking out of the winery's barn when I pulled up the long driveway. She squinted into the sunshine and gave me a half-hearted wave.
"Any news?" she asked when I got out of the truck.
"Sort of," I said, closing the door behind me. "What was going on between you and Mitch Wharton?"
"Nothing," she said, too hurriedly.
"You were kissing him down by the creek a week or two ago, from what I hear. And I saw your car at the ranch earlier this week. That doesn't sound like nothing to me."
"It's none of your business what's going on with me."
"I disagree," I said. "If you want me to find out who killed Bug Wharton, I think you're going to have to tell me everything."
Her mocha-colored skin turned a shade paler, and she crossed her arms. "I don't see how my personal life has anything to do with what happened to that jerk."
I sighed. "Look, Aimee. Your sister went to jail for murdering the brother of a man I think you were secretly seeing. I'm sorry, but that means there's some connection there I don't know about, and if I'm supposed to find out the truth, you have to tell me everything you know."
She said nothing, her full lips a thin line.
"If you don't tell me, I'll have to start asking around. And Buttercup is a small town. You may think you were clever enough to hide whatever was going on, but I assure you, someone in this town knows more than you think they know." I paused, watching her face, which remained impassive. "Tobias and I heard you and Mitch arguing at the ranch the other day." Her nostrils flared slightly, and I thought I detected a flicker of fright in her eyes. "What are the odds that Serafine—or Rooster Kocurek—doesn't know something was going on between you and Mitch?"
I let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "You can tell me your side of the story, or I can find it out from somebody else. Your choice."
The silence seemed to stretch into the next county, but I resisted the urge to break it. In my role as an investigative reporter, I'd learned that silence was an excellent tool to use when asking difficult questions.
Finally, she sighed, dropping her arms. "Okay," she said. "But I need a glass of mead. Or something."
She turned on a booted heel and headed toward the farmhouse she and Serafine shared, and I followed quietly.
The inside of the house was as cozy as it looked on the outside, with refinished floors and fresh white batten-board walls. I followed her through the dining room into the kitchen, which was decorated with colorful Mexican pottery and small pieces of folk art. She gestured for me to sit at the small kitchen table, then pulled a bottle of mead from the refrigerator and filled two jam jars, sliding one across the tile-topped table to me before plunking herself down on the chair across from me.
I took a sip of the mead, which was honey sweet and had the tantalizing aroma of spices. Aimee, on the other hand, downed hers in one go and then reached for the bottle, refilling her glass. She'd finished half of it before slamming her glass down on the table and looking at me.
"All right," she said in a flat voice. "What do you want to know?"
I took another sip of mead before answering in a calm voice. "How long have you been seeing Mitch?" I asked.
"About two months," she said, dropping her eyes to her glass.
"Why did you feel you had to keep it a secret?"
She looked up at me, blinking. "Seriously? My sister would have killed me if she knew I was going out with one of the Whartons!"
"How did you end up meeting him, anyway?" I asked.
"It was funny," she said, her eyes getting a bit dreamy. "We were both at the same gas station in La Grange. I noticed him right away... there was just something about him."
"Did you start talking then?"
She laughed. "I was about to drive off without my gas cap on. He flagged me down and we started talking... it didn't take long to figure out we were both from Buttercup. And when we figured out who we were..." She let out a husky laugh. "We could tell it was going to be a Romeo-and-Juliet kind of thing. That's why our first date was in Houston."
"You drove all the way to Houston for a date?"
"I did," she said, ducking her head. "It was worth it, too. We went dancing."
"It sounds like you two are pretty well-matched."
"Yeah," she said. "For a right-wing conservative rancher and a liberal hippie witch."
"Opposites do attract. So, what happened?"
"It was too hard to keep it going, I guess. With all the secrecy. And he was kind of... well, controlling."
That didn't sound good. "Why did you feel the need to keep it secret, anyway?" I asked.
She sighed. "I think neither of us really felt like we were in charge of our own lives, you know? I mean, Bug ran the ranch, and I'm only here because Serafine invited me; the place is hers, not mine."
"So, you were afraid they'd cast you out?"
She nodded. "They were both so... strident about each other," she said. "If I didn't know Serafine had such a good heart, I'd be afraid she did kill Bug Wharton. She hated him that much. And Bug thought Serafine was a total faker... which she definitely isn't." Aimee bit her lip. "It was almost like he was worried she was going to dig up something he didn't want dug up."
"Like what?"
She shrugged. "At any rate," she said, getting up, "you know everything I know. I've got chores to do."
"Thanks for being honest with me," I said as I walked to the door. "If you think of anything else, let me know."
"I doubt I will, but thanks anyway," she said dismissively.
16
"Any word from Jed?" I asked when I got to the Blue Onion the next morning. After my visit with A
imee, I'd gone home and made several batches of soap and some candles; Christmas would be coming soon, and I wanted to have plenty of merchandise. I had signed up to do a few markets in Austin; I was hoping they would be profitable.
Quinn was elbows deep in a bowl of dough. She was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes; I hadn't seen her look so rattled in a long time.
"I'm not sure," she said. "Pip growled a few times last night, and I thought I heard something from downstairs, but I didn't see him."
"I don't like that," I said. "What's going on with the restraining order?"
"I haven't heard back yet," she said.
"Are you sure you don't want to come out and stay with me?"
"He found me there, too, remember?" she asked.
"And we dealt with him together, too," I reminded her.
"Why would he come back to Buttercup? I swear, that man just wants to ruin my life."
"Well, let's make sure that doesn't happen, then." I grabbed an apron.
"Are you still planning on having us over for Halloween?" she asked.
"I am," I said.
"I'll bring pumpkin bars," she said. "But now I'm nervous," she said. "What if Jed shows up?"
"At least you won't have to face him alone," I pointed out. "What can I do to help you prepare?"
"If you'll measure out those nuts and mix them with cinnamon and sugar, that would be great," she said, pointing to a recipe book on the counter.
"The offer is open," I said. "You can stay with me anytime."
"I'll think about it," she said, but she didn't say another word about it. I worried as I watched my friend worked. I knew she was determined not to let Jed upend her life, but he was doing it anyway.
It just didn't seem fair.
I got back to the farm late. Evening was falling, but despite rumors that a Blue Norther with possible rainfall was headed our way, there was still no sign of a storm when I headed out to do my chores. It was a relief to have the stock tank filled, at least for now. I'd rigged up a pump with about twelve extension cords and attached it to a series of soaker hoses. I turned on the pump and checked to make sure water was moving, then headed over toward Blossom, Peony, and the goats.
I knew right away that something was wrong.
Instead of standing by the fence, waiting for treats, the goats were huddled in the corner of the enclosure closest to the barn, bleating nervously. Blossom and Peony were close by; as I watched, Blossom tossed her head and sidled up next to her daughter. They were obviously spooked.
"What's up?" I asked, scanning the area as I hurried back to the stock tank to turn off the pump. I didn't see anything, but as my eyes swept the far end of the pasture, a low growl reached my ears. All the hair on my body stood on end.
"It's okay," I told them in a calm voice, thankful I'd left Chuck in the house. "Let's get everyone inside." I let myself into the pasture and they followed me straight to the barn, pushing past one another to get in. Blossom and Peony joined them a moment later, and once I got everyone into stalls, I stepped back outside, wondering—yet again—if I should get over my squeamishness involving firearms and invest in some kind of gun.
I closed the barn door behind me and stood, listening. Other than the bursts of song of the wind chimes behind the farmhouse, the only sound was the wind soughing through the grass, and a low moan as it curled around the edges of the barn roof. The sky was streaked with sunset colors: cobalt blue, tangerine orange, and streaks of fuchsia.
After five minutes of scanning the peach orchard and the tangle of brush and small trees down by the creek, I was about to turn back and start milking the goats when I heard it again.
It was coming from a small cedar break about fifty feet away, and the sound was chilling. With one hand on the barn door, I peered into the dark green branches. I caught a glimpse of movement; a moment later, a large, shadowy creature slid from one tree to another. I wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't look like anything I'd ever seen before. Behind me, the goats shuffled nervously. I watched for a minute more, not sure if I was hoping to see it again or not, before closing the barn door and hurrying to the house. Chuck was upset, too; his hackles were up as he stood at the door, and his chunky frame vibrated with a low growl. I closed the door behind me and headed for the phone.
Tobias picked up on the second ring. "I think I saw whatever it is that's been attacking the animals," I told him.
"Is it still there?"
"I don't know. I put everyone in the barn and I'm in the house with Chuck."
"I'll be right over," he said. "Don't go outside, but keep an eye out."
I hung up and joined Chuck at the door, peering through the window at the copse of trees where I'd seen the creature. What was it? I wondered, wishing I'd gotten a better glimpse. The sun continued to fall behind the trees, darkening the world, as I watched and waited. When the phone rang again, Chuck and I both jumped.
It was Quinn. "I hate to ask, but I've seen Jed circle the building four times tonight, and Pip's kind of freaked out. Do you mind if I stay with you tonight?"
"Of course," I said. "Did you call the police?"
"I did, but they're short-staffed tonight."
"Come on over," I said. "I think I just saw the chupacabra, or whatever it is that's been stalking the local farm animals. I could use the company."
"You know, I'm starting to rethink my position on guns," Quinn said.
"We'll talk about it when you get here," I said.
"I'm on my way."
As I hung up the phone, headlights flashed at the end of the driveway. For a horrible moment, I thought it might be Jed, but I soon recognized Tobias's truck.
"Stay here," I told Chuck, and went out to meet him.
"Any more sightings?" he asked as he climbed out of the truck.
"No," I told him. "I watched at the window and didn't see anything, but Chuck is still rattled. Quinn's on her way, too; Jed's been circling her place tonight, and Rooster says he doesn't have enough staff to post a guard."
"Lovely," he said as he retrieved what looked like a rifle from a rack in the back of the truck.
"You're going to shoot it?" I asked, surprised.
"It's a tranquilizer gun," he clarified, handing me a flashlight; dusk had slid into darkness. "Where did you see it?"
"Over here," I said, and headed across the bleached grass toward the shadowy trees where I'd seen the creature, Tobias at my shoulder. The wind whispered through the grass, and somewhere, a branch cracked. We both froze; the trees loomed ominously, like an enchanted wood in a fairy tale. Was there a supernatural creature crouched in there among the scrub oaks and cedars?
"I should have brought a flashlight," I whispered as Tobias raised the tranquilizer gun, scanning the area. After a moment, he took another step forward. As he moved, headlights glared at the end of the driveway. As the beams of light swept across the copse, a pair of eyes glowed.
"There it is!" I hissed, but Tobias had been distracted by the headlights. There was a rustle in the copse, and I caught a glimpse of something large loping away before it was swallowed by the darkness.
"What was that?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said, "but it didn't move like a coyote." As he spoke, Quinn pulled up next to Tobias's truck; a moment later, she opened the door, and Pip bounded out.
"Hold him!" I said, too late; he was already on his way toward us. I didn't know what was in the trees, but I didn't want Pip to tangle with whatever it was, so I crouched down and called to the black dog. "Come here, boy!" I cooed, relieved when he trotted over and nuzzled my leg. I grabbed his collar just in time; there was a breeze from the vicinity of the trees, and Pip's lithe body erupted into a growl.
"Let's get back to the house," Tobias said.
"What's going on?" Quinn asked when she spotted us.
"We saw something in the trees," Tobias explained. "Something's been preying on livestock around town recently; we were checking it out." Pip was still growl
ing, trying to twist out of my grasp.
"Whatever it is, Pip sure doesn't like it," Quinn said. "Is everyone safe in the barn?"
I nodded. "They were right by the door, anxious to get in; whatever it was really spooked them. All kinds of prowlers out tonight, it seems... I'm so sorry Jed was bothering you."
"Is Rooster doing anything about it?" Tobias asked.
"No," Quinn replied as she opened the door to the farmhouse. Chuck attempted to squirt out of the house, but Quinn grabbed him before he could get off the porch. The dogs growled and barked as we shepherded them inside to safety.
When the door was shut safely behind us, I turned to Quinn. "Why doesn't he have someone keeping tabs on you?"
"Says they're short-staffed, as usual." Her mouth twisted into a wry smile, and she looked at Tobias. "I heard you saved some guy at the ranch, by the way."
"I don't know if I saved him, but he was in pretty bad shape when we found him," Tobias replied.
"Do you know if he's doing okay?" I asked.
"Word is he seems to be recovering. They posted someone to watch his room at the hospital; that's why they didn't have staff to keep tabs on my place."
"You're always welcome here." I gave Quinn a hug. "But I don't know what we're going to do if he shows up with a gun."
"I'll stay," Tobias volunteered. "And if worse comes to worst, I have this." He held up the tranquilizer gun.
"I'd love that," I told him. "I think we'd both sleep better. But are you sure?"
"I forwarded calls from the hospital to my phone," he told us. "If anyone needs me, they know where to find me."
"I'll heat up something for dinner, then. I've got a lasagna in the freezer. I'll just pop it in the oven, and we'll see if we can rustle up enough greens for a salad."
"Still no word from Lenny, eh?" he asked.
I grimaced. "Not a peep."
"We'll figure something out," he said. "But let's not worry about that tonight."
"No well water, Jed Stadtler on the loose, my friend charged with homicide, a weird predator stalking my livestock, and a murderer probably on the loose in Buttercup. What could I possibly be worried about?"
Deadly Brew (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 3) Page 14
