Barnyard Murder: A Cozy Mystery (Strawberry Shores Mystery Book 2) (4 page)

Chapter 9

“Girls! So great to see you!”

Jeannie greeted us with more than a little enthusiasm. It was about six o'clock on Wednesday. The sun was just starting to go down. Tim Hayfield had spent the day idling near the construction site and Dana Jones had spent the day staring down Jeannie. A few people had showed up to show their support, but not as many as the day before. Despite the low turnout, there was an undercurrent of unease pervading through Strawberry Shores.

“We brought you a radio,” Emily said cheerfully. “And some batteries, because there's nowhere to plug it in. Here, let me set it up for you.”

“Aww, thanks girls!” Jeannie cooed. “People have been bringing me food and water all day. Those are the people I want to support in my quest to save the tree.”

Emily got the radio set up and turned it on. It was on a country music station. Alex looked at me.

“Did I ever tell you I'm a writer?” I asked cautiously. “What you're doing for the town is so interesting. I was hoping to interview you.”

“Sure, Lena. Good idea, interviewing me. The people around here aren't usually as proactive as I am.”

“It's Laura. So first, tell us about yourself.” I knelt by Jeannie. She hadn't showered in a couple of days and her aroma was unique. “You showed up in Strawberry Shores last week. Where did you come from?”

“I came from—” Jeannie paused and looked at Emily. “Hey, sweetie? Can you switch the station? I know, this kind of music is probably pretty popular with you yokels, but I'd rather listen to something a little more refined.”

Emily's face went red. I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry. “Sure...” She said, turning the radio to a classical station.

“Like I was saying, I came from Washington.” So far so good. “I graduated from the University of Washington with a Master's degree in botany.”

Static filled my head. “Oh?” I said. “A Master's degree? I didn't know they offered Master's degrees in botany. Tell me more about it.”

“Well,” Jeannie said, backpedaling. “Actually, I finished most of my credits. I didn't technically graduate.”

Still static. I didn't say anything; I just kept looking at her.

“Okay,” she said, backpedaling again. “I took a couple of courses. They all covered stuff I already know, though, so I looked over the rest of the degree requirements. And it's all stuff I already know. So I have, you know, an unofficial Master's degree. I just haven't done the coursework.”

The static had abated, but it was still there. I decided to change the subject. “I'm sorry to hear about your father passing away,” I said.

“Oh, thank you, we were quite close,” she said.

More static.

“That's strange,” I said. “I've never seen you around Strawberry Shores. And as far as I know, your father never left.”

“I called him every week,” she said quickly. The static got louder. “Or he called me. We talked a lot.”

Time to change the subject again. “So what's so important about this tree?” I asked. “Childhood memories?”

“Oh yes!” Jeannie exclaimed. “I remember it being here when I was a little girl.”

The static disappeared.

“And it meant a lot to you?”

“Yes, yes.” More static. “I cherished this tree when I was a little girl. I remember when I was about six...”

Jeannie proceeded to tell us stories about how much she loved the tree and the barn, and how they were integral parts of her childhood. I stopped listening early; all I could hear was static. That meant ninety percent of everything Jeannie had told me was a complete lie. It got to be monotonous, so I interrupted her.

“You've also said you're doing this for the people of Strawberry Shores,” I said. “That's pretty generous. Tell us about that.”

“The people of Strawberry Shores—how I love them!”

Jeannie went into another monologue about her generosity and how much she cared about the people of Strawberry Shores. Again I lost interest because again just about everything she said was a lie.

Jeannie was the sort of person that talked and talked, giving me a chance every now and then to mumble an 'mm-hmm' or 'yup' or 'oh really?', but she did most of the speaking. Interrupting her the final time was difficult. Finally, I just said the heck with it.

“Well, I think we have enough for the article,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. I looked at my watch and faked a yawn. “I gotta get home. I have to work early tomorrow.”

“Okay girls!” She said as we walked away. “Visit again soon! And next time bring food or water. A radio is great, but I can't very well eat it, you know!”

We ignored her. Sheriff Caldwell eyed us as we passed. He'd spent the day keeping a watch on Jeannie's protest, and now that it was getting late and everyone had gone home, he was getting ready to leave too.

“Nice woman,” I said sarcastically as we passed.

He smiled. I would soon come to regret the remark.

Chapter 10

The next morning there was another crowd in front of the construction site.

“That's strange,” I remarked.

“What's that?” Susan asked.

“Sheriff Caldwell. He's not regulating the traffic. He's down by the barn.”

“Maybe Jeannie gave up the protest?” she asked. Her voice rose slightly at the end. I could tell she was excited; everyone in Strawberry Shores was eager to move on.

We double-timed it down to the site. The area was still blocked off and Tim Hayfield still lingered at the edge of the site, but Sheriff Caldwell was kneeling beside Jeannie, taking her pulse. We arrived just in time to hear him say:

“She's dead. This area is officially a crime scene!”

Miss Tilwell was on the edge of the crowd. I approached her. “Miss Tilwell! What's going on?”

“Jeannie Ferdinand is dead,” she said. “Someone called the Sheriff to report it.”

“How did it happen?”

“I don't know,” Miss Tilwell replied. “But if you find out, you'll let me know, right?”

“Sure, Miss Tilwell.”

I approached the caution tape and surveyed the scene. Jeannie was slumped against the tree. Her hair had fallen across her face. And lying on the ground, a few inches from her hand, was a water bottle.

“Everyone stand back,” Sheriff Caldwell said. “This area is officially a crime scene.” He turned to Tim Hayfield and his men. “You guys might as well go home. There's no way you're bulldozing the lot anytime soon.”

Exasperated, Tim rolled his eyes and gestured to his crew to kill the machines.
 

“And you,” the Sheriff said, his eyes falling on mine. “You don't go getting any ideas about sleuthin’. We don't need a repeat of Daniel Berkshire.”

I put up my hands, palms out, in a don't-look-at-me gesture. “I don't want anything to do with this,” I said.

“Good,” was the Sheriff's reply.

He'd been referencing a night from a couple of months back. Edward Brooks, one of the trustees, had been murdered. I'd just been learning how to use the static so I'd taken it upon myself to 'help' solve the case, along with Emily and Alex. We'd managed to solve the case, but the murderer—Daniel Berkshire—had figured out what we were doing and almost killed us. Had it not been for Harold saving us at the last moment, Daniel probably would have gotten away with it.

Sheriff Caldwell had never been able to prove that Emily, Alex, and I were involved in the case. When asked why Daniel had gone after us, however, he'd said it was because we were trying to solve it. Ever since then, Sheriff Caldwell had it out for us. Apparently he thought we were encroaching on his territory.

His warning was unnecessary though. I'd meant it— I had no interest in getting involved in another murder case. I was perfectly happy to leave the sleuthing to Caldwell. I had no intentions of getting involved.

Little did I know, I would be involved—but not through any choice of mine. Jeannie might have been gone, but her legacy was only beginning to rear its ugly head.

Chapter 11

“So that's it then, huh?” Emily asked, addressing the pink elephant in the room.

It was Thursday night. I was helping Emily make a batch of cupcakes. Alex was sitting at the dining room table working on shirts.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

“With the tree,” Emily said. “And the barn. Now that Jeannie Ferdinand is gone, they can tear it down.”

I thought about it for a moment. “That's kind of a morbid way to look at it but yeah, I guess with Jeannie out of the picture, everything's going to move forward. Once Sheriff Caldwell finishes with the crime scene, Tim is going to bulldoze the whole lot.”

“Who do you think killed Jeannie?” Alex asked.

“It was probably Dana Jones,” Emily suggested. “Think about it: she goes to the site last night, offering a 'peace treaty' to Jeannie. You said she was poisoned, right Laura?”

I shook my head. “I don't know for sure. Sheriff Caldwell hasn't specified. But like I said, it looked like Jeannie had drank from the water bottle, and that was what killed her. I didn't see any blood.”

Emily nodded. “Right. Dana gives her the water, Jeannie drinks it, and all of her problems go away.”

“The same could be said for Tim Hayfield,” Alex pointed out. “He's spent all week losing money. Maybe he got tired of waiting and decided to get Jeannie out of the way.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That makes sense. Now that Jeannie's gone, he can go ahead bulldozing the lot.”

“And don't forget Kevin Drake,” Emily said. “He seemed really eager to impress Dana. Maybe he killed Jeannie to impress her.”

“It could be anyone,” I said. “Jeannie was unpopular with a lot of people. We'll probably never know.”

The kitchen was quiet for a minute, aside from the faintest sound of Emily squirting icing on cupcakes and Alex sprinkling glitter on a t-shirt. Then, from Emily: “You know, guys. We could figure it out.”

Alex and I shot dirty looks at Emily in unison. Emily's thought had given Alex and I the same thought. “Are you serious, Emily? Do you not remember what happened last time?”

“Yeah. We caught the bad guy!”

I rolled my eyes and pointed at where she was standing. “No, as I recall, you were tied up
there
, I was tied up
there
, and Alex was tied up
there
, and the bad guy was about to kidnap us.”

“Uh-uh!” Emily set the icing aside and turned to face me, planting her hands on her hips. “That's only because I accidentally told Miss Tilwell we were investigating the murder. If I hadn't told her, Daniel never would have known that we were involved.” She reached for a towel and wiped icing from her fingers. “This time we'll be quiet-like. We'll figure out who the bad guy is and not get kidnapped.”

“Or,” I cut in, “we could
not
figure out who the bad guy is, and let Sheriff Caldwell take care of it, and still not get kidnapped. Doesn't that sound like a better idea?”

Emily and I stared each other down for a moment. She was frowning. Emily came from the 'if you can help, it's your obligation to help' school of thought. I came from the 'I dislike being tied up and/or kidnapped' school of thought. Not to mention, it wasn't our job to solve the murder, nor was it our responsibility. Sheriff Caldwell was perfectly able to handle it on his own. Alex, Emily and I wouldn't be affected either way, regardless of whether or not Sheriff Caldwell solved it.

The doorbell interrupted us. I left the kitchen and put my hand on the doorknob. “Who is it?”

“Sheriff Caldwell,” I heard from the other side. I opened the door.

“Sheriff! Come in,” I said, smiling. “Would you like something to drink? A fresh-baked cupcake?”

I didn't think he was thirsty; the light aroma of whiskey wafted into the room with him.

Sheriff Caldwell shook his head. “No, I'm fine. Thanks gals. I'm actually here on official business. You got a moment, ladies?”

Alex, Emily and I gathered around the Sheriff.

“So, I s'pose y'all have heard that Jeannie Ferdinand passed away last night,” the Sheriff said.

“Yeah!” Emily piped up. “She was poisoned, right?”

The Sheriff eyed her. “Well, that actually hasn't been released in public yet, so it's interestin' that you know that.”

“We guessed,” I said, covering for Emily. “I saw the crime scene this morning.”

“Gotcha. Well, I figure it's only proper to let you girls know, you're bein' considered as suspects.”

Our faces blanched in unison.

“Us? Why us?” Alex blurted out.

“Well, I saw you gals last night, and it didn't look like you'd all had a great exper'nce with Jeannie,” he said. “That makes y'all among the last to see her alive. Plus, you knew how she'd been killed, which is mighty suspicious,” he said.

I shot a dirty look at Emily.

“Sheriff, we didn't kill Miss Ferdinand,” I said. “We were there last night to –” I paused. I couldn't tell him why we'd actually been there. What was the cover we'd used? Oh, right! “To interview her. I was thinking about writing a piece on her protest. You saw us—we didn't even have water. We brought her a radio.”

“She was annoyed because she couldn't eat it,” Emily said.

Shut up, Emily!
I thought to myself. Emily was trying to be helpful, but my concern was that she was going to give the Sheriff the wrong idea.

“That's fine, gals. We'll get to the bottom of this. 'Til then, I'd recommend you stay in Strawberry Shores.”

“Hold on,” I said. There weren't any radios on, but I had to do something. I went with the first question that came to mind. “A lot of people disliked Jeannie. Are you sure you're going to get the right person?”

Then, I focused. I concentrated, just like I'd done the night Alex and Emily and I had been testing my ability to sense static without the use of a radio nearby.

“Sure I will. Have a good night, ladies.”

With that, he left.

Alex, Emily, and I looked at each other in horror.

“He wouldn't arrest us, would he?” Emily said. “I mean, we're innocent.”

“That's why I asked him how sure he was about getting the right person,” I said.

“To see if he was lying—good thinking Laura!” Emily clapped her hands.

“Well?” Alex asked. “Did you pick up anything?”

I grimaced. “A little bit of static. I think,"

“What do you suppose that means?” She asked.

“If the static was real, it means he's not entirely sure he's going to arrest the right person. But there aren't any radios around, so I might have been imagining it.”

Emily deflated, the smile melting from her face. “So, wait. We were the last people to see Jeannie alive. That makes us super-suspects, right? That means we might go to jail for something we didn't do.”

Alex and Emily looked at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Unless we figure out who the real killer is.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, no, no.” I turned away from them and headed to the living room.

“Come on, Laura!” Emily chirped, following me. “If we don't, we might go to jail.”

I slumped across the sofa and rubbed my eyes. She was right. Sure, I was confident that Sheriff Caldwell would find the real killer. But suppose he didn't? Suppose he arrested the wrong person? Suppose he arrested
us
?

“Fine!” I blurted out. “Fine, we'll look into it. But don't get your hopes up. We got lucky the first time. The odds of us figuring out another murder are slim to none.”

“Yay!” Emily cheered.

“Great,” Alex said. “I'm glad we're all on board with the not-going-to-jail plan. Now can we get to work? Let's start with a list of suspects.”

Alex headed toward the kitchen. Emily moved to follow her. I hopped up off the couch and put my hand on her shoulder. She stopped and looked at me. “And this time,” I said. “Not a word to Miss Tilwell.”

Emily made a gesture like she was locking her lips and throwing away the key. “Mum's the word,” she said.