Sunday was a beautiful repeat of Saturday, except that we had even more customers and there were baby goats in the petting pen instead of miniature horses. Udderly’s door never fully closed because the line streamed out of the shop into the parking lot. It was testament to my fatigue that when I glanced up to take the next order, it was Flo’s handsome honcho, Cadillac Ranch. I hadn’t noticed him come in. His warm smile gave me a burst of energy. “Hi! What will it be today?”
“Good afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat and my knees went weak. How did the man do that? “Busy day?”
“Yes, busy but fun.” It took me a moment to register that Stretch was beside him. My smile froze. My pick for most likely to be the firebug was also right in front of me.
“I’d like to try a scoop of sunflower and a scoop of strawberry in a cup, please.” Cadillac Ranch’s voice was music. I served him, then Stretch ordered the same thing.
“Fresh from the farm, right?” Stretch said.
Another customer leaned over to Stretch and said, “If you think the strawberry ice cream’s good, you should taste the peach.”
I found my voice. “I’m afraid we don’t have peach yet, Stretch. Maybe next week. Will you be around next week to have some?” Smooth, Riley.
“Ice cream made with fresh fruit is labor intensive but worth it,” Stretch said.
I couldn’t keep the surprise off my face. Stretch made ice cream?
“You surprised the lady,” Cadillac Ranch said. “May I present my friend, Zach—”
“Just Zach.” Zach aka Stretch, pulled his hat tighter over his ears.
“Right now he looks like something the cat dragged in, but he’s a very good cook.” Cadillac Ranch grinned.
Having seen what Rocky dragged in for me, I had to agree. Zach hadn’t shaved and was well beyond any fashionable five-o’clock shadow. He wore a wrinkled polo shirt untucked over baggy cargo shorts and hiking boots, plus that ski cap that made me think of burglars. What an odd combination for a warm summer day. “And I haven’t introduced myself properly. I’m Jasper Yeaton.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Riley Rhodes. And that’s Caroline and Brandon.”
“Nice to meet you.” Cadillac Ranch gave each a polite nod of the head. “And Zach’s here—”
“For a while.” Stretch hunched his shoulders.
The line behind them stirred with impatience.
“I’ve got this.” Zach peeled a twenty off a thick roll of crisp bills. I kept my expression friendly as I gave him change but thought, Where did he get all that cash?
Jasper touched the brim of his hat, and they stepped outside. I didn’t know if I could call him Jasper now. I’d thought of him as Cadillac Ranch for too long.
Now I was really confused. The guy I thought of as the camper had a name, Zach, and was friends with Cadillac Ranch?
Two women sitting at one of the tiny indoor tables nudged each other. They took their ice cream and followed Jasper and Zach outside. Through the window I watched the women approach the two men. Jasper was his usual courtly self, greeting them with a slight bow. Zach looked like he wanted to bolt, but Jasper tugged his sleeve. They posed for a selfie. I guess Jasper is better known than I thought. How odd that he was hanging out with someone like Zach.
Jasper took a guitar from the back seat of his Cadillac and started strumming, his warm voice streaming in through the open door.
Caroline leaned over to me. “I didn’t think I liked country music, but now I do.”
Pru burst into the shop, breathing hard. “Houdini escaped!”
“Who?”
“Willow’s goat,” she said. “Hairy Houdini! He got out of your pen!”
I ran outside. Visitors crowded around the pen but they weren’t looking at the goats in it—they were looking up. The little black and white baby goat named Houdini strutted on the shop’s roof.
Pru shaded her eyes as she followed his movements.
“What’s he doing on the roof?” I gasped.
“Goats like to be up high,” she said.
Cars stopped in the middle of the lane as a crowd gathered and held up their cell phones to shoot video. This caused traffic to back up onto the main road.
“Will he come down by himself?” I asked. “He’s causing a traffic jam.”
Just then Houdini disappeared over the peak of the roof. I remembered how Rocky had gotten down by jumping onto the dumpster and the stack of crates on the other side of the shop. “Quick! He’s going around.” I ran to the front of the building, and the chattering crowd followed.
Willow ran up to me, shading her eyes as she followed the tiny goat’s movement. “I’ll get him. Don’t worry. I can climb up the dumpster.”
Pru tugged Willow’s arm. “No, don’t go up there, Willow. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“There’s a black cat up there!” A man pointed. “Bad luck for the goat!” Many in the crowd chuckled.
Rocky sat at the very edge of the roof grooming a paw, unconcerned with the clamor from the crowd. When Houdini clopped over to him, he turned tail and disappeared from sight. I knew he’d jumped onto the stack of crates. Houdini picked his way over to the spot where Rocky had disappeared. My heart jumped into my throat. Goats were surefooted, but Houdini was just a kid. He paused as if deliberating, his little tail wagging.
Someone shouted, “He’s going to jump down the pile of crates!”
Willow and I ran, edging through the spectators. As I passed Jasper, he tilted his hat back to follow the action on the roof, then popped the trunk of his Cadillac and reached in.
“Come on, Houdini!” Willow called as we pushed our way to the front of the crowd. The goat teetered on the edge of the roof, then leapt down onto the dumpster, then onto the crates. I didn’t see Rocky, but I was sure he was watching. Willow raced forward to catch Houdini as he jumped from the last crate, but a burly man pushed her aside, calling, “I’ve got him!”
He didn’t. Houdini spurted from his arms and zipped into the parking lot.
Shouts and shrieks of laughter spread as the goat zigzagged through the crowd, but my heart leapt into my throat. I hoped he wouldn’t head into the road. Traffic was at a standstill, but if Houdini ran very far away, a moving car could hit him. Willow and I again pushed our way through chattering customers.
As Houdini cleared the crowd and dashed for the road, a circle of rope whirled through the air. In a blink, the circle landed around the little goat’s neck. Houdini pulled up short and gave a puzzled bleat as Jasper Yeaton pulled the rope taut and raced up to him.
Jasper knelt next to Houdini, calming the little guy with soft words. Zach aka Stretch doubled over, laughing. Willow ran up and threw her arms around Houdini. The crowd cheered and applauded.
I realized my mouth was hanging open. Flo stood at the shop window, hands clasped by her cheek. I felt the same way. Damn, that man was full of surprises.
I thanked Jasper and returned to the shop, shaking my head. This day was full of surprises. Good surprises. What a nice change.
At closing time, I washed the empty tub that had held Brandon’s toxic red experiment. “It sold out in one day. How is that possible?” I dried my hands and flicked off the lights.
Caroline laughed. “No idea.”
We headed up to the house. “Pru’s bringing over some interns to work in the shop tomorrow night so we can have a nice dinner to celebrate getting through the festival. And you’re taking tomorrow off, Riley. I insist.”
I rubbed my sore right arm. “No argument from me.”
In bed later that night, I thought I’d fall asleep instantly, but I tossed and turned for an hour. I couldn’t even lose myself in a book. My mind was like the broken chiller—I couldn’t turn it off.
Making lists always calmed me. There’s nothing as satisfying as crossing a task off my list, except, perhaps, a hot fudge sundae. I pulled my notebook from my bag, a beautiful handmade leather creation with marbleized endpapers I’d bought in London. I flipped to the last written page, my packing list for Italy.
Rocky slunk into the room and climbed into bed next to me.
I turned to a fresh page and clicked the pen. The notebook had quotes at the top of each page. This page had a quote from Louis Pasteur: “Luck favors the prepared mind.”
Think, Riley. Organize your thoughts.
I wrote “Who Killed Mike Spooner” at the top of the page. Who had something to gain by killing Mike? I wrote “MOTIVE—GAIN?” Well, “gain” wasn’t the right word. Caroline and Darwin would retain what they had. Eliminating Mike would eliminate the chance of losing their beloved farm. Neighbors who wanted to stop the development? I couldn’t believe any of them capable of murder, but added “NEIGHBORS” to the list. I had to keep an open mind.
CAROLINE
DARWIN
NEIGHBORS
I hesitated.
My friends in the military talked about “unknowns” in a way that other people didn’t. In the military and intelligence fields, one talked of “known knowns,” “known unknowns,” and “unknown unknowns.” What you knew, what you knew you didn’t know, and what you didn’t know you didn’t know.
“X” was what I didn’t know, who I didn’t know.
I added “X” to the list.
But “gain” didn’t seem like the right motive. Mike’s death had been brutal. Emotional. Angry. A crime of passion. I wrote MOTIVE—PASSION. Who fit that profile?
ANGELICA
DARWIN
EMILY
Again I added “X”.
I realized that if the crime was driven by emotion, I’d have to put my name on the list. I’d want to help Caroline. “RILEY.” After a moment I wrote “PRU” and added her to the “GAIN” list. Pru loved Darwin. Darwin loved the farm. Would she kill Mike to keep Darwin on the farm? Again, I had to keep an open mind, and I remembered how distracted Pru had been after Mike’s murder, how fraught with worry and disbelief the conversation I’d overheard.
I remembered Gerri’s impassioned speech at the planning meeting. That woman was passionate about stopping the development. I added her name to my list. “GERRI.” I laughed. Gerri would lecture someone to death, but hefting that pitchfork? Then I remembered Mike had been drugged to make him an easier target. That made me think the killer was someone who wasn’t confident of their strength. I shook my head. Anyone would have to drug Mike to even the odds—he was strong, big, athletic.
Who had opportunity? Anyone could’ve driven up to the Love Nest, or even walked there, maybe someone camping nearby in the cemetery. “X.” The camper, who I felt in my gut was Stretch. What was his story? He was odd, but was he a killer? I added “STRETCH” to the list.
The only person who wanted the development to go through was Aaron. Great. I just proved the most suspicious and squirrely person in the neighborhood was most likely innocent.
I put the notebook on the nightstand and turned off the light. Beside me, Rocky was already asleep.