I recognized the man almost instantly, but it took me a second to place him. And when I did, my heart began to dance. It was Ace Watkins. I’d known him for what seemed like all my life as the oldest man in town at what had to now be almost a hundred. He was famous for handing out sticks of Juicy Fruit gum to the children around town, and if he hadn’t been so charming and so gentle, he probably would have scared a lot of parents in this age where it seemed we were expected to guard our children from even the most innocent of potentially dangerous experiences.
But today, he didn’t look like his genial, kind self. Today, he looked outright mad, and I thought I knew why. Word must have reached him about the body in the privy, and now he was here to stop me from running my mouth.
I was cornered, and while my phone was nearby on the counter where the register would soon stand, I didn’t want to make any sudden movements in case that hook was something Ace was ready to use. So I took a deep breath, smiled brightly, and said, “Mr. Watkins, it’s so good to see you. Can I help you with something?”
As if he had flipped a switch, Ace’s look of menace turned into a wide grin, and he said, “Actually, I’m hoping I can help you. First, let me say how sorry I am that you had to find that poor boy’s body yesterday.”
I had to work hard to keep my mouth from falling open, but I stayed quiet and tried to look sanguine, not shocked. “Thank you. It was a horrible thing.”
“So horrible. Your daddy and I were just talking about it. I’m afraid he had some faulty memories about that day, but I think he’s clear now.” He smiled at me and nodded, and I felt a small chill tickle up my spine. “But anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”
I nodded again and said, “Okay. What can I do for you?”
He held the hook up toward me. “I have a bunch of these old farm implements that I haven’t gotten around to scrapping yet, and your daddy tells me you might be able to sell them, get them out of my hair.”
This time my smile was genuine, even though I didn’t think my answer was going to be one he wanted to hear. “Oh, I’d love to help you, Mr. Watkins, but I’m afraid I’m not big enough yet to manage consignments. I just don’t have the staff to keep track of whose stuff is whose and make sure everyone gets paid.”
He stared at me for a minute before he shook his head and laughed. “No, girl, I don’t want to be paid. I just want the stuff gone. I’d like to give it to you if that’s okay.”
I stared at him for a long second. “Well, my accountant says I need to be careful about gifts, so how about I pay you a little something for them outright? That way my books are in good order, and you can go out for a nice steak dinner or something.”
Ace’s face lit up even more. “Or I can put it in the gum fund. You would not believe how much I spend on gum.”
“I bet I wouldn’t,” I said. “Do you have the things with you?”
“Most of it, but there are a couple of pieces, a thresher, an old plow, that I couldn’t lift by myself. Maybe you and that sheriff of yours could come out and pick them up tomorrow?” He winked at me as he spoke in that way that people do when they feel like they’ve figured out a secret.
The fact that Santiago and I were dating wasn’t a secret, but it had caused a bit of conversation in town. I looked at Mr. Watkins, managed to manufacture a little shy smile for his sake, and said, “Sure. If Santi isn’t available, Dad can help.”
For a split second, a flash of what looked like anger crossed Ace’s face, but then he was back to smiling. “Sounds great. Maybe tomorrow afternoon after church?”
“Perfect. Now, let’s see what you’ve got in that truck of yours.” Ace had driven the same Chevy pickup since I’d been in high school. The bumpers were held on with wire, and the sides were rusting through, but he made his way through town on his errands with no trouble, it seemed.
Now, he’d used that old beauty to bring me a treasure trove of goodies, including more hand-held implements like the hook but also some impressive lengths of chain that I could see someone turning into rain chains and a couple of metal cages that had the prettiest patina and would look great hung in a corner with a trailing plant in them.
I climbed up into the bed and began handing the items down to Ace, but within a moment, Saul was there and taking over for the older man. I was glad for the help because while Ace wasn’t complaining, he was looking a little peaked.
Soon, we had everything unloaded under the lean-to beside my shed, and Saul was ogling several fine pieces, including a pair of scythes that I knew would be a great addition to his farm implement collection in his own office. I made a note to give them to my landlord as a grand opening thank-you and then turned my attention to thinking of an offer I could make Ace that would not be insulting to his generosity but also not undervalue the gift he was giving.
Within a few moments, I had settled on offering him a hundred dollars. If he was anything like my dad, a hundred dollars would sound like a large sum, but it was also far less than what these items were worth. Dad had grown up dirt poor, and he wasn’t much of a shopper these days . . . so he was really out of touch with the value of things today. When we’d bought my house, he had been astounded at the asking price. I figured, given that Ace was a generation older than Dad, he might have even more extreme impressions in that regard.
So I made my offer, and Ace shook my hand before saying, “That’s two steak dinners for me and the missus. And still a mighty hefty profit for you.”
I blushed. Clearly, Ace was more up to speed on retail than my dad. “I’m happy to pay more,” I said, hoping I hadn’t insulted him.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I want to help you get this business off to a good start, and you really are saving me a bunch of trouble if I don’t have to get someone out, especially when you take the bigger pieces tomorrow.”
Saul looked from Ace to me. “Bigger pieces?”
Ace explained what he had in his barn, and I said Santiago and I would go out tomorrow to pick them up.
“One of my guys and I can go over right now and get them if you’d like, Ace,” Saul said. “Save all of you the trouble and use our equipment to make it easier.”
That same look of something crossed Ace’s face before he said, “Well, that’s mighty nice of you, Saul, but I want to be sure Paisley wants the things before she gets them. They might not be worth her trouble.”
I studied his face for a second, and that tingly sensation moved from my back down to my fingers, but I nodded and agreed. It was really the least I could do, given Ace’s generosity, but also, if he was eager for me to get out to his farm, then I was almost as eager to get out there. With backup, of course. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I said as I shook the man’s hand again. “I may just make you some cookies.”
Ace shook his head. “Don’t go to the trouble. The missus got me off sugar twenty years ago. Best thing she ever did for me.” He threw a hand up in the air as he got into the cab of the truck and pulled out.
Saul looked at me. “Well, isn’t that something?” he said as he studied my face.
I met his eye. “Isn’t it, though?”
I texted Santiago as soon as Ace left and asked him to swing by if he had a minute, and he said he had just finished talking with Homer and would be over shortly with “refreshments.” The winky emoji made me think I might enjoy these refreshments very much.
While I waited, I organized some of the things that Ace had brought over and made a list of what I needed – plants, crystals, bolt cutters – to finish displaying them the way I wanted. I had hung up the chains, but I thought adding a bit of shine with some quartz crystals might make them even more lovely for someone’s garden.
By the time Santiago came with a six-pack of pumpkin cider, I had gotten Ace’s things into an order that showed them off pretty well and was back to arranging Mika’s offerings. “Hey, Beautiful,” Santi said as he set down the drinks and came over to give me a hug.
“Hi, Handsome,” I echoed. “How was everything?” My heart was racing even as I asked, but when he took my hand and led me over to the two metal lawn chairs by the front door for people who needed to wait for pokey shopping partners, he said, “It was good, Pais. I’m sorry about earlier. I was a little thrown.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Seriously. You were doing your job, and my father was making your job harder. If anyone should be sorry, he should.” I felt my anger with my dad cresting again.
“And he is. He apologized several times,” he said as he reached over, braced the lip of a cider on the edge of the window sill, and popped the cap off before handing it to me. “Imagine if it had been Mika’s father . . .”
I laughed. “Oh, I would have turned that wretched man in immediately.” Mika’s dad was an abusive, manipulating jerk, and if I could have any part in keeping him away from his daughter, I would do it in a heartbeat. Mika had told him over and over again that she didn’t want to hear from him, but he didn’t believe her. After all, how could she not want to have something to do with someone as wonderful as him?
But when I thought about it that way, the fact that my dad had simply been trying to take care of his friends made me able to hold a bit more grace for him. I took a deep breath, looked at Santiago, and nodded. “Good. Now what?”
“Now, I need to figure out who killed Leo Farrow. The men I talked to, including Ace Watkins and Melvin Smith, said Leo Farrow was dead when they found him. He’d been stabbed, they said. And so they just disposed of his body to keep his wife from suffering too much with a scandal.” Santi had a furrow between his eyebrows, and I knew that look. He didn’t buy that for one second.
“How exactly is it better for his wife that he just disappear, never to be heard from again, than to be found dead?” I tried to put myself in that situation, tried to imagine how I would feel if Santiago just went away; tried to picture myself if he was murdered. I couldn’t dwell there long, and both scenarios were horrible, but somehow the idea that he had just abandoned me seemed worse. Then, I’d have to recover from betrayal and loss, not just loss.
“I don’t know. Is it better to realize the person who killed your spouse is in your community?” Santi sighed. “But either way, they covered up a crime. Maybe a crime one of them committed, maybe not.”
“Right,” I said. “So now you find out who killed Farrow. How do you do that?”
Santiago shook his head. “I have no idea, but tonight, I’m just here to help you and get a little tipsy because” – he glanced at his watch – “my shift just ended.” He popped open another cider on the window and sat down next to me again. “What needs doing?”
“Well, actually, I need to tell you about my afternoon first. Can you clock back in for a second?”
Santiago groaned. “I suppose I can for you.” He pretended to slip a time card into a punch box and looked at me. “So what’s up?”
“Ace Watkins came by today.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but Santiago sat up immediately and put his drink down.
“Why?”
“He brought some things for me to sell.” I stood up. “I’ll show you.” I walked him outside and pointed out the display of farm implements I’d created. “All really cool stuff.”
I was doing my best to just speak factually, but I was itching to share my unease with the situation. I knew, though, that Santi needed to get the information first so he could form his own opinion. “And he has a couple of bigger pieces that he asked if you and I could pick up tomorrow afternoon.”
This bit caused Santiago to raise one eyebrow. “Oh?”
I nodded. “Saul offered to go over with his crew and get them today, but Ace said he wanted me to see the items first to be sure I wanted them.”
“And you didn’t want to go with Saul this afternoon?” Santiago said.
I just looked at my boyfriend and waited.
“You think there was a reason he wanted you to go to his house?” he said.
“He specifically asked for you to come but didn’t balk much when I suggested if you were busy Dad would come,” I added.
“So it’s you he wants out there.”
“It could just be because he has a plow he wants to give me,” I said with a twist at the corner of my mouth.
“Right? Clearly that’s what this is — a man who was just linked to a nearly-eighty-year-old murder suddenly is hit with a spark of generosity toward the granddaughter of one of the men involved. Surely, it’s just coincidence.” Santiago rolled his eyes so far back in his head that he could probably see the road behind him.
“He did say that Dad had mentioned that I was opening a shop, so that might have inspired him.” I knew that sounded lame, but I’d found I did better when I thought the best of people, considered them as truthful until proven otherwise. Call me naïve, but I considered myself trusting . . . until I couldn’t be anymore.
Santi kissed my cheek. “You are a sweet woman, but seriously, Ace Watkins is no doddering old man. He knew what he was doing coming here.”
“So I guess you’ll be coming with me tomorrow?” I winked.
“I wouldn’t miss it . . . for many reasons.” He winked back and then led me back inside. “Now, what needs doing?”
After another bit of work, a delicious plate of pad Thai that we had delivered, and a couple of ciders, the storefront felt pretty much ready. I still had to set up the register, which would be delivered Wednesday, and my banners for beside the road would be ready later on Wednesday. But otherwise, the merchandise was set, and I loved it. Things looked rustic but cheerful, and Mika’s pieces added just the right bursts of color to highlight her fine skills and set off the many tones of brown and gray on display.
When Santi and I drove out of the gate of Saul’s lot and then locked it behind us, I felt great. I forced myself to let my nerves go, trust that the grand opening would be amazing, and sit in confidence that I’d discover anything further that needed doing.
I waved to my boyfriend as he turned the opposite way toward his house and put on a little Elephant Revival to sing me home. Their Americana folk sounds were just what I needed to close out a weird but ultimately good day.
In fact, I was so into my singing that it took me about two-thirds of the drive to realize that the same pair of headlights had been behind me as I wound my way through the back roads toward my house. They were the fancy lights, the blue-tinted ones, and I could see them turn a bit on the corners as they swung through the hills and valleys of the countryside.
In the movies, people always speed up when they’re being followed, but then they run off the road, which is exactly what would happen here if I took any of these curves too fast. So I kept my pace and voice-texted Santiago. I’m being followed, I said.
Me, too, he answered. Don’t go home. Double back. Meet me at Mika’s.”
I was almost at my driveway, but there was no way in the world I was leading whoever this was right to my dimly lit, rural homestead, not when the only guard on site was a grumpy Maine Coon cat. I drove right on by, crossed the railroad tracks, and then took the first right back toward town as I sent another voice text to let Mika know we were on our way and ask her to open the shop.
On it, she said, and when I turned into town, I could see the lights from her front windows blazing brightly. She was the only shop, besides the inn up the street, that looked open, and I was glad for the beacon of light as I sped up, jumped out of my car, and sprinted toward her door. Once inside, I turned back just in time to see a sleek car pass on by without slowing down.
A moment later, Santiago came around the corner from the back alley. “Did you see the car?”
“Yep,” Mika said. “Tesla SUV. Charcoal gray. Illegally tinted windows. No plates.”
I stared at my best friend. “Wow. You know your cars.”
“Just that one, because it’s what I’m going to buy when my online business takes off.” She smiled. “What’s going on?”
“Someone followed me home from the shop,” I said.
“Same,” Santiago added. “I saw the car pull up by the alley, but it was too far away for me to get a make and model, unlike Eagle Eyes here.” He turned to me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m just glad Sawyer wasn’t with me.” I sighed and thought about how much more panicked I would have been with a three-year-old strapped into the back seat. “And I’m glad I noticed before I got home.”
“Agreed,” Santiago said, “and maybe if they followed you here, they don’t know where you live. Maybe.”
I groaned. “I’m going to have to be watched again, aren’t I?” In the past, my penchant for finding bodies had meant I had to have police protection, and while I really appreciated the company of a particular police officer, I wasn’t much in the mood to be observed 24/7.
Santiago shook his head. “No, I don’t think we need to do that. No direct threat has been made, and they followed me, too. But I’d feel better if you came to my house for the night.”
I blushed, and I saw Mika grin before looking away. “I could always stay here with Mika,” I said.
“No, I think Santiago is right. They saw you come here, so if whoever this is does want to hurt you, they’ll come to find you here,” Mika said.
“Which is why I’d like you to come to my house, too, Mika.” Santiago’s voice was firm enough to know that this wasn’t a friendly request.
Mika drew in a breath that lifted her shoulders several inches and then sighed. “I’ll be right back.” She turned and went to the back of her shop and up the stairs to her apartment above. I watched as lights clicked off, and then the store went mostly dark. She came out, locked the door behind her, and said, “Ready for my first co-ed slumber party.” She was trying to be upbeat, but I could hear the fatigue in her voice.
“You better have good snacks,” I said to Santiago and followed him around the corner to his cruiser. I climbed into the back seat and smiled at him in the rearview mirror.
I had thought Mika would sit next to him, but instead, she got in next to me and closed the door. “This will hopefully be the only time in my life that I ride in the back of a police car, so make it worth my while, Officer,” Mika said.
“Your wish is my command,” he said and turned on the lights and the siren and took us screaming down Main Street. The few people out in town stared as we blew by, and Mika and I used our best prom queen waves as we zoomed by. By the time we hit the two-lane road just outside of town, Mika and I had created long rap sheets for ourselves that included crimes from “eating the last piece of cheesecake without asking if anyone else wanted it,” “dosing a toddler with just a bit of Benadryl on a night when he had three bug bites and you really needed him to sleep,” and something Mika described as particularly heinous: “knitting socks with worsted weight yarn.” I had to take her word on that one.
We giggled all the way to Santi’s house, and when we pulled up and he let us out of the back, I said, “You may regret this,” as I kissed his cheek.
“May,” he quipped and opened his front door. Santiago’s house was gorgeous and comfortable, a craftsman bungalow that he had remodeled a bit to make the space feel more open. Even though he and I mostly hung out at my house because of the solitude and because Sawyer was often there, I had enjoyed several great meals at his spacious dining room table, and now, I plopped down in a chair at the side of the table and said, “Anyone up for Uno?”
Santiago rolled his eyes. “I was going to make chocolate popcorn. Interested?”
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Mika said.
Santi grinned. “Great. Why don’t you two make yourselves at home in the living room, and I’ll bring you your snack.”
“What service!” Mika said with a wink at me.
It was only then that I remembered Mika’s date. It was only nine o’clock, so we hadn’t even gotten to the nine-thirty p.m. check-in time. I winced as I turned to her. “Sorry, I forgot to ask earlier. The date didn’t go well?”
I saw Santiago tilt his head in our direction just slightly. Clearly he was curious, too.
“Actually, it went very well. He packed a picnic, and we ate at the gazebo in town. But then, there was a food truck crisis with his daughter, and he had to rush off.” She picked up her phone. “I should check to see how things are.” She stood and walked out onto Santiago’s back deck.
“A food truck crisis?” I said to the man who was concocting some amazing chocolate scent on the stove.
“Actually, it was. Jill had a flat tire right on the bypass in town. She panicked, and so her dad went to help.” Santiago stirred the sauce in the pot. “He called me as soon as Jill was safe and the truck was towed out of the road. He was really sad he had to leave early.”
I looked out the sliding glass door and saw Mika smiling and laughing with the phone to her ear. “Well, she doesn’t seem to be upset.”
“I expect not. She suggested they go up on the Parkway to finish their picnic tomorrow. Chris was excited.” Santiago said as he dripped dark-brown chocolate over the popcorn he had just poured out of the bag. “He really likes her.”
I glanced at my friend outside again. “Seems like she really likes him, too.”
“Shall we?” Santiago said as he came over with the bowl of popcorn in his hand and offered me his other arm. “I was hoping maybe we could start Manifest together.”
I grinned. I had been eager to watch this show for a while, but I knew he’d like it, too. So I’d waited. “Awesome. Just so long as we can agree to watch separately if we are so inclined.”
“Agreed, as long as we catch up to each other and watch some together, too.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “It could be our show.”
“Are you two talking about Love at First Sight, because I am so down,” Mika said as she came into the room.
“No!” Santiago and I said in unison. My best friend had the worst taste in TV shows. She loved all the ones about romance on secluded islands and people getting married without ever meeting. Fortunately, Santi and I were on the same page about that stuff. “Manifest,” I said.
“Alright, twist my arm into watching Josh Dallas and J.R. Ramirez, if you must,” she said as she plopped down on the other side of me and put her hand into the popcorn bowl.
Santi looked at me. “Are those people from the show?”
Mika rolled her eyes. “Seriously, why do you people watch TV, if not for the beauty?”
“That’s a yes,” I said. “But first, tell us what’s up with Chris. Is your picnic still on for tomorrow?”
Mika blushed. “I guess he told you,” she said to Santi. “Yes, we are still having our picnic tomorrow. He’s picking me up right after church.”
I smiled. “Awesome.” Lately, Mika had been coming to church with me. Neither of us thought of ourselves as church types, but something about the folks at Bethel made us feel at home. And given that we’d just helped them with a major situation around their new building, we had gotten to know folks pretty well. “Mary’s preaching, you know?”
“She is?” Santiago asked. “Mind if I tag along?”
I grinned. “I know she’d love to see you there. And she tells me that the choir is working on something special, too.” Mary Johnson had become a dear friend in the last few years, and when I’d started attending her all-black church, she hadn’t hesitated to take the white lady under her wing and get me oriented. Now, I was just a part of the congregation with a slot to keep the nursery every six weeks, just like the other volunteers. “Be forewarned, though,” I told my boyfriend, “the ladies there like handsome men even more than Mika here.”
Santiago rolled his eyes. “So noted. Now, I know the two of you have sewing on hand – I saw the bags – so why don’t you get to that, and I’ll keep working on this soapstone swallow that I may finish in time for Demetrius’s Christmas present next year?”
Demetrius, another member at Bethel, and Santiago had become good friends recently, and the older man had taught Santi to carve the soft stone that he could dig up in old quarries just south of Octonia. Demetrius was very skilled, creating two-dimensional and three-dimensional pieces of art that reflected the mountains and the culture around us. Santiago was just learning, but I was pleased to see that what he had said was going to be a swallow actually looked pretty much like a bird at present. A bird with a huge head, but a bird still.
For the rest of the evening, the three of us worked with our hands and let ourselves disappear into the world of a plane that miraculously reappears after five and a half years, and I couldn’t help but hope for a similar miracle when it came to solving a nearly-eighty-year-old murder case.