A Biscuit, a Casket (24 page)

She spun on her heel and walked back to Jake. He’d been far enough away that she doubted
he’d heard, but he could tell the conversation had not been pleasant.

“Ready to go?” he asked. He already had his wallet out to pay. She wanted to kiss
him for understanding.

“Let’s go get a drink,” she said.

Sunday dawned sunny, crisp, and bright, not a cloud to be seen. If a stranger walked
into Frog Ledge today, they would never guess the picturesque small town with its
steepled white churches and rolling farmland had been the site of a recent murder.

The weather was perfect for the day of festivities—Char and Ray’s annual open house
at Alpaca Haven, followed by the pet costume parade Stan was judging and the outdoor
movie night on the green, sponsored by the library. They were showing as many of the
Nightmare on Elm Street
movies as townsfolk could stomach, beginning at seven and lasting well into the night.
A longtime Freddy Krueger fan, Stan had planned to catch at least the first one. Then
Jake invited her to go with him to the movies when he dropped her off last night,
which was even better.

As she walked to Char and Ray’s with her dogs and a shopping bag full of animal goodies,
she saw fellow residents out in full force taking advantage of the best of fall. Tag
sales were happening all along Stan’s road, on both sides of the green, part of a
neighborhood effort in conjunction with St. Andrew’s. The parish the Hoffmans belonged
to was raising funds for the family, in light of not only Hal’s death but Tyler’s
subsequent arrest.

Stan hoped they were successful. Normally she tried to get to the local tag sales,
always looking for new cooking accessories or fun-shaped cookie cutters now that she
was getting more creative with her treats. But she had to be at Char’s early to help
set up. Plus she wanted to see her mother. She felt bad about their confrontation
in the restaurant. If her mother wanted to date some slimy local politician, that
was up to her. Stan didn’t have to be childish about it. As they rounded the corner
to Char’s already-full driveway, Scruffy realized where they were going and started
yanking on her leash,
woo-woo-wooing
all the way. She loved visiting Char and Ray.

“Hang on, Scruf,” Stan called, trying not to drop her bag full of food. Henry, always
obedient, walked right next to her. Savannah saw them coming and ran out to the driveway,
her tail wagging. She immediately ran to Scruffy and sniffed her from all sides. She
did look great. Her coat was rich and full and she had no hot spots anymore. Stan
felt a sense of pride that her food had contributed to the dog’s health.

When she finished sniffing Scruffy and did the same to Henry, Savannah led them around
the house to the yard. Guitar music played and the smell of coffee and pastries wafted
across the lawn. Brenna had told her a number of times that the open house was one
of Frog Ledge’s biggest events of the year. But when she stepped through the gate,
her mouth dropped open. Char knew how to plan a party, for sure. She had walked through
a latticed archway decorated with purple, green, and gold bows, an entryway to the
festivities. From here, she had a spectacular view of the entire backyard, which had
been transformed into a Mardi Gras fairyland. Shimmery streamers with all three colors
decorated the sides of the house. Three tents were set up, one purple, one green,
and one yellow-gold. They all had signs hanging from them—
BEVERAGES, SNACKS, FOOD.
The tables had festive tablecloths and the chairs were decorated with matching seat
cushions.

A small stage was set up to the left of the tents. Stan could see a few people setting
up equipment, others riffing on guitars. The rest of the property was the alpaca area.
Stan could see a few of them out in their pens, watching the goings-on lazily as staff
changed their water and cleaned the area. The enclosure had its own purple, green,
and gold accents. Stan giggled. It was so perfect. So Char. No Mardi Gras in Connecticut,
so Char brought her own.

“You like?” Her friend materialized behind her. She was dressed for the occasion,
of course, in a bright green dress, with a purple scarf tied around her neck and gold
shoes.

“I love.” Stan hugged her and kissed her cheek. “This is amazing.”

“It’ll be a fun day.” Char surveyed her kingdom, nodding in satisfaction. “I’m not
thrilled about the color of my gold tent. It’s not quite gold. But it was special
order and kind of a pain to get, so I let it go.”

“It’s great,” Stan said. “The whole setup is great. Who’s the band?”

“Oh, the band!” Char clapped her hands. “You’ll never guess. Leigh-Anne told me that
Ted Brahm had a band. They do lots of fun music. He said they could do the bluesy
stuff we like for Mardi Gras parties. They’re called the Dairy Farmers. Isn’t that
adorable?”

It seemed rather predictable to Stan, but she didn’t say so. Ted Brahm looked like
more of a sixties hippie than a New Orleans expert, but she didn’t say that either.
She wondered if Char knew about Em and Ted. She had to. Char knew everything. But
before she could ask, Izzy swept through the archway with a huge platter of petits
fours and a bag presumably loaded with other goodies, her three dogs at her heels.
“Hey, Stan! You brought doggie dessert and I brought people dessert. We’re a good
team.”

“You girls are wonderful.” Char kissed Izzy’s cheek. “Go set up in the gold tent.
Stan, Brenna’s already here.”

“Come on, then. You can pick your display spot.” Izzy grinned and led the way. She
appeared a lot more relaxed than the last time Stan had seen her. More like herself.

“So how’s everything going?” Stan couldn’t help but ask as they reached the tent and
began unpacking goodies. Her conversation with Jake last night had been interrupted,
and she’d never gotten to ask him about helping Izzy get out of her bad financial
situation.

“Things are going much better,” Izzy said, arranging her platter on the table. “I
think I have a solution.”

“You do? What—” She turned as deafening feedback screeched through the microphone.
One of the men in Ted’s band held up an apologetic hand as he went back to fiddling
with his sound. By the time she’d turned around, Izzy was gone. Stan spotted her a
few feet away, deep in conversation with someone Stan didn’t recognize. Well, maybe
she didn’t feel like getting into it here. That was understandable.

Brenna came up behind her. “Isn’t this sweet?”

Stan agreed. “Where should we set up?”

Brenna looked around. “Right here’s a good spot.”

Stan turned to her own bag to unpack and noticed she had six dogs—no, make that seven,
a small Yorkie had crept up to the circle and was sitting behind Scruffy—all watching
her intently. “Guys, you can’t eat them all before the day even begins!” She smiled.
“Good thing I brought extras.”

She handed out treats to all her fans, most of whom plopped contentedly on the grass
in front of her to eat them. The Yorkie took her stash and trotted away, the huge
cookie clutched in her tiny mouth.

“Did you hear?” Brenna said. “Enrico was officially arrested and charged with trespass,
endangerment, and something else—I can’t remember what. But not murder.”

“Really? Was this in the paper?”

“It happened yesterday. Cyril put it on the website.”

“Wow. So they’re back to square one with the murder, then.”

“Yes. Back to Tyler.” Brenna looked unhappy. “I know he didn’t do it, Stan.”

“If I know your sister, I’m sure she won’t let it go if she has any doubt,” Stan assured
her. Brenna didn’t look convinced.

“It’s so odd, though. What did Enrico hope to gain by sabotaging the milk supply?
Was he unhappy at work? Did the Hoffmans do something unfair to him?”

Brenna shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“It’s got to tie in somehow.” Stan wished her brain would process all this information
in a more organized fashion so she could examine it better. But it wasn’t the time
to try.

The day flew from there. It seemed the whole town had crowded into Char and Ray’s
backyard, and brought friends along. There were tours of the farm, visits with the
alpacas, lots of eating and drinking, a number of doggie visitors, and to Stan’s surprise,
decent music from Ted Brahm and his band. As Stan paused at one point to watch the
band perform, she wondered what the extent of Em and Ted’s relationship was. How long
it had been going on? Had Hal known? Suspected? Cared?

And what about Ted Brahm? In the few times Stan had met him, the hippie-turned-farmer
seemed gentle and laid back. If he really loved Em and knew Hal wasn’t treating her
right, would he still be laid back? Or could he turn murderous?
“Everybody’s got a dark side,”
Kelly Clarkson reminded her. Had Ted killed Hal? Would he let his lover’s son take
the fall?

The whole thing made her head hurt. And she still hadn’t seen her mother anywhere.
Admittedly, it was hard to find anyone in the crowd of people in Char’s backyard.
She wondered if her mother had packed up and gone home, or maybe packed up and gone
to Tony Falco’s house. She hadn’t had a chance to ask Char yet. Stan was too busy
selling her treats and answering questions about her ingredients.

Jessie Pasquale walked in, in uniform. Immediately the crowd quieted. Stan saw her
arrive and go straight to Char. They spoke quietly, then Char went to the stage and
drew a line across her throat, signaling for the band to stop playing. Jessie motioned
for Ted Brahm to get off stage.

“What’s going on?” Brenna said.

“No idea.” Stan slipped through the crowd until she reached Char, who looked upset.
Em was nowhere in sight. “What’s up?”

“Tyler skipped bail,” Char said. “Jessie went looking for him at Em’s sister’s, where
he was supposed to be staying. All his things and his car are gone.”

Stan had a hard time slipping away from Char’s party to make her pet parade judging
obligation. After Jessie showed up canvasing for Tyler Hoffman, the entire focus of
the party turned to Tyler’s possible whereabouts, whether anyone else was on his hit
list, and what to do in the event of a sighting.

She finally got away and headed to the green. Her co-judges were already there, as
well as what seemed like the town’s entire animal population. She was delighted to
see Amara in one of the chairs. The other judge was a fiftyish man who looked way
too uptight to like dogs in costume. He introduced himself as the town manager.

The green buzzed with the news of Tyler Hoffman’s escape. Stan heard bits and pieces
of conversations: “Do you think he’s dangerous?” “Would he go back to the scene of
the crime?” “I wonder if they have police dogs hunting him.”

“Sheesh,” she said, taking the seat next to Amara at the judging table. “People are
so quick to condemn.”

Amara nodded, her face troubled. “I don’t know what to think, honestly. I didn’t know
Tyler. But family problems can escalate so quickly. I hope they find him. And I
really
hope they figure out who did it—whether it’s him or not.”

“Agreed.” Stan smiled as she looked around at the pets roaming the green with every
kind of costume imaginable. “I’ve never done this before. I imagine it will be difficult.”

Amara grinned. “The town hasn’t had one before. Diane and I proposed it after last
year’s Halloween activities. It’s a way to get more out-of-towners here, too. We’re
trying to raise the animal-lover status, especially with the new business.” She sat
back and smiled like the Cheshire cat.

It took Stan a moment to process what she’d said. “Oh! The council approved the clinic
and shelter?”

“They did,” Amara said. “So basically, none of us will have a life for a while, but
we’re so excited about what it will do for this town.”

Stan agreed. “I can’t wait. Please let me know what I can do to help.”

“Funny you should ask,” Amara said. “We thought we would explore selling a line of
healthy organic meals. We should talk. Maybe it’s something you’d be interested in.”

Her own line of meals? Stan salivated at the thought. And if she prepared them under
veterinary supervision, she’d have the nutrition issue covered. “I’d love to talk
about that,” she said.

Her spirits decidedly higher, she turned her attention to the town pets, who had begun
their parade around the green. Some owners also wore matching costumes, a shameless
plug for votes that had to be ignored. Only the animals could be judged.

There were three categories in addition to the typical Best, Most Original, and Scariest
costumes: Best Inanimate Object, Most Likely to Be a Zombie Sidekick, and Most Likely
to Hit It Big on Broadway. After seeing nearly fifty dogs, Stan conferred with her
fellow judges and they announced the winners. Her favorite was the chocolate lab dressed
as the rapper Eminem, who won for Most Original.

When Eminem and his owner approached the table for their bag of home-baked treats
and gift certificate to the local pet supply shop, Stan realized it was Maddy, the
McSwigg’s waitress who had seen Emmalee ditch her car the day of Hal’s murder. Stan
handed her the goodie bag. Maddy murmured a thank you and turned to leave.

Stan rose. “Hey, Maddy?”

Maddy turned around, her gaze neither friendly nor unfriendly. “Yeah?”

“I’m Stan. A friend of Jake and Brenna’s. Do you have a second?”

At Maddy’s nod, Stan led her away from the crowd of winning dogs and their owners.
Maddy was silent, waiting for Stan to speak.

“Congrats,” Stan said. “Your dog is adorable.”

“Thanks.”

Okay. Not one for small talk.
Stan dove right in. “Brenna told me you saw the Hoffmans the day Mr. Hoffman died.
I know you saw Emmalee leave her car there. But I know Mr. Hoffman used to go to the
bar a lot. Did you by any chance see him lately with an older guy, long hair, lots
of earrings? Tall and kind of skinny?” Maybe Maddy would recognize Ted and place him
near the scene.

Maddy shook her head slowly. “Who’s that?”

“One of the farmers he works with.” Stan didn’t elaborate.

“I don’t think so.”

“What about a guy with a big beard? Sort of like ZZ Top?”

“Like what?” Maddy stared blankly at her. Stan felt old.

“Nothing. He just has a big, long, bushy beard.”

Maddy shook her head again, picking at her cuticle. “He only came in there with the
poker guys. Least that’s all I saw him with.”

“Poker guys?”

“Yeah. This group that got together twice a week to play poker. They came to the bar
first. Tried to play at the bar a couple times, but Jake broke it up.”

“Did Hal ever seem to not get along with them? Or was he stressed out about losing
money, maybe? Did he look like he
had
to play? Like it wasn’t fun?” She was grasping, but maybe there was a nugget here
somewhere that would save Tyler.

“Nah. He was always laughing. And drinking.” Maddy thought for a minute, then shrugged.
“I never saw him mad in the bar.”

Another dead end.
“Thanks,” Stan said. “I won’t keep you.” As she turned, Maddy spoke again.

“The only time I saw him mad was once outside the liquor store. He was having a fight
with that blond lady with the curly hair. The sappy sweet one who was with that guy
you spilled the water on that night. You know her, right?”

Leigh-Anne Sutton? Couldn’t be. “You’re sure it was the same woman?” Stan asked.

“Positive. She wears those ridiculous shoes.”

“When was this?” Stan asked.

Maddy shrugged. “A few weeks ago. When they saw me coming they shut it down quick.”

Stan watched her and the dog walk away, a shiver running up her spine. Her mind ricocheted
back to Leigh-Anne’s words that night at Jake’s. “Such a delightful little town. I
haven’t been back since the co-op’s annual meeting six months ago. I always forget
how adorable it is.”

Why had she lied?

The night carried the typical New England autumn chill, perfect for a scary movie
on the green with plenty of popcorn on hand. Stan slipped on her bright orange Fila
jacket, chosen in the spirit of Halloween, and went back to her small bag of popcorn.
Next to her in the second row of the “movie seats”—rows of folding chairs volunteers
had set up—Jake had his own bag. They weren’t at the sharing popcorn stage yet. Both
had acknowledged that silently.

The movie had drawn a good crowd. She expected it was more about the social aspect
than the content, considering the
Elm Street
movies were pretty old. The
Halloween
series would’ve been a good choice, too, but the younger crowd seemed to enjoy Freddy.
The audience would likely shift during the course of the viewings. It was early still,
barely eight. The teenagers would come out later, probably around the third or fourth
installment, if they could convince their parents to let them stay out that late.
But for now, it was a good mix of Stan’s age group and a little younger.

Stan couldn’t concentrate on the movie. She’d been antsy since her conversation with
Maddy earlier. Leigh-Anne Sutton had been in Frog Ledge, fighting with Hal, a couple
of weeks before he died. Leigh-Anne had never given any indication she and Hal didn’t
get along. She’d even been the first one to offer to help. And she was also the only
co-op farmer who had essentially abandoned her own business to move to Frog Ledge
after Hal’s death. Business partner goodwill? Or was there a more sinister reason
behind it?

Stan thought back to the first time she’d met Leigh-Anne, in Em’s kitchen the morning
after Hal’s murder. Even then, after offering her condolences, she’d taken right over.
Acted like the farm was hers to run. Acted like the funeral was hers to run, for goodness’
sake. All under the guise of being helpful. At the town meeting, it hadn’t been Leigh-Anne
who had made the motion to take control away from Em. But the group had voted for
Leigh-Anne to have coleadership control. Stan remembered the folder she’d found in
Hal’s office, with the co-op agreement. She had to get back there and find it.

Her next thought stopped her cold. If Leigh-Anne and Em had joint control, what if
something happened to Em? Then Leigh-Anne could take over the co-op. Maybe she’d even
get her hands on Em’s farm. Leigh-Anne might have seen Hal as her only obstacle to
being in charge of the entire business. Now she’d taken care of him, but the path
to the Happy Cow co-op still wasn’t clear. Could Em be in danger?

To add to her jumpiness, Stan hadn’t seen or heard from her mother all day. Patricia
was good at holding a grudge, but she wouldn’t vanish into the night without a word.
After the fifth time Stan had craned her neck to look into the crowd behind them,
Jake leaned over.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine. Why?” Stan settled back in her seat.

“You looking for someone?”

“Just wondering if my mother was still around. I haven’t heard from her since last
night.”

“Why don’t you call her?” Jake suggested.

Stan smiled sheepishly. “That’s not a bad idea. It’s been such a busy day, I just
figured I’d see her at Char’s.” She patted her pockets. “Shoot. I don’t have my phone.
I must’ve left it at home when I dropped the dogs off earlier.” Thinking about the
dogs triggered her brain back into action and she jumped up. “Oh my goodness! The
pets!”

“What’s wrong with the pets?” Jake asked.

“Not my pets. Em’s pets. I never went to feed Samson and Petunia tonight.” Stan dropped
her voice when the group in the next aisle turned to glare at her. “And Samson wasn’t
feeling well. I really need to run over there.”

“Now? This is where it gets good. Freddy’s on a rampage,” Jake said. Johnny Depp was
about to meet his demise in his bedroom.

“Yeah, before it gets too late. I already feel bad for being so forgetful.”

“Want me to go with you?”

How sweet. She could tell he had no desire to take his eyes off the movie, yet he
offered to be chivalrous. “No, stay and enjoy the movie. I already brought meals and
left them in the fridge, so I don’t even have to go home first. I’ll just run across
the street and heat them up. Honestly,” she said when he protested. “I’m leaving my
popcorn. Keep an eye on it for me.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

She hoped so. Because while she did need to feed the pets, she also wanted to snoop
around in Leigh-Anne’s “office” at Happy Cow. Perhaps she would find something that
would solve this mystery, once and for all.

 

 

Stan walked up the Hoffmans’ long driveway and let herself in the front door as silently
as possible. Samson lumbered over to see her. Stan flicked some lights on and patted
his head. “Let’s go get some food.”

Samson followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, grabbed the food, and
spooned it into a dish. While it was heating in the microwave, she glanced out the
window.

And saw Em’s car parked on the side of the house. When had she returned? And where
was she? Perhaps she’d been called back for some emergency. She should run out and
check the barn. While she was out there she could slip into the office and look for
incriminating evidence against Leigh-Anne. Like a note confessing to everything. That
would make it much easier.

She put Samson’s food in front of him and left Petunia’s on the counter, and slipped
out the back door. She knew her way around the farm as well as most of the staff by
now. Dusk was settling, but she didn’t even need a flashlight. The floodlights were
on and she didn’t want to draw any extra attention to herself.

She crossed the backyard and headed toward the barn. Then paused when she heard voices.
Soft, as if they were some distance away. Maybe it was Em. She couldn’t tell if they
were male or female. Stan took a few steps in the direction they seemed to be coming
from. Squinted. Was that Em over by the corn maze? She took a step forward, ready
to call out, then gasped as Em’s companion came into view. Holding Em’s tied hands
behind her back. Those blond curls were unmistakable.

It was Leigh-Anne Sutton.