Monday morning came too soon, but I’d slept well. Now I had a whole day for sleuthing. I had places to go and people to talk to, but first, a cuddle with Rocky. I reached out, but the spot next to me on the bed was empty, the sheet cool.
Rocky sat at the window with his paw on the screen. His head jerked around and he gave me a guilty look.
“Rocky, what are you up to?”
He jumped to the floor and trotted from the room. I rose from the bed and looked more closely at the spot on the screen where Rocky’s paw had been. When I pressed, it gave way and a whole flap opened. The space was just big enough for one determined little cat to squeeze through onto the roof of the porch. I looked down. An old lattice was angled against the porch and next to that was a trash can. Altogether they made stair steps for a determined feline.
Rocky wouldn’t be fenced in. Maybe I shouldn’t try.
After breakfast, Caroline headed to the shop as I jogged up the hill. I turned west and ran through a row of sunflowers. The bright yellow of the flowers’ petals made a dazzling contrast with the bright blue sky.
At the end of the row I looped back, then jogged toward the Love Nest. The crime scene tape across the porch and the barn door sagged. Mike’s car was still parked by the door and I peered inside. It was pristine, the complete opposite of Buzzy’s hoarder-on-wheels car.
Hoarding made me think of Aaron. His yard was completely hidden by a solid line of woods that faced the road, and most of the trees were choked with vines so thick they blocked the sun. As I ran, I noticed with alarm that barbed wire was strung between the trees, making a nasty, almost invisible fence around his property.
I ran farther up Farm Lane to the narrow opening in the trees that was the entrance to Aaron’s domain.
I scanned the yard as I walked up his rutted driveway. There were two decrepit vehicles in the driveway, what New Englanders called “beaters”: one a van, one a Buick with Florida plates. A stone patio with flagstones to one side of the house had probably been a pleasant spot years ago, but was now crowded with broken patio furniture, a splintered wooden picnic table, and plastic chairs speckled with mold.
Dozens of rusted hulks of old cars on blocks crowded the other side of the yard. I recognized the bodies of several vintage models, including a Mustang, now reduced to an empty shell.
My skin prickled; I felt watched. I looked up and noted floodlights and cameras on the eaves of the house, another camera by the front door. A wire crossed the yard. With my eyes, I followed it up into the leafy canopy of trees. More cameras.
How many did he have? And why? I knocked on the front door.
The blinds were drawn except for one window, where McGillicuddy barked. I waited but there was no further sound within the house. I turned and jogged away, eager to leave.
Aaron had mentioned that his security cameras weren’t on the night of Mike’s murder. Though with all these cameras, I doubted if he was telling the truth. But why would he lie?
I recalled the extra security camera in my office at the embassy, the one even Paolo the IT guy hadn’t know about, how it had exonerated me. I wondered if the cops would get an order to search Aaron’s security footage anyway, despite what he’d told them.
As I left the yard, I thought one thing was certain. It looked like Aaron could use some money. He’d be receptive to a pitch to sell his property. He’d said everyone has a price. If he sold, there might be a domino effect with other neighbors following suit.
The thought of Emily or Kyle trying to coerce Caroline into selling, taking advantage of her fragile state of mind, made my blood boil. I took a deep breath, wiping sweat from my brow. I decided to talk to Emily and tell her to stop bothering Caroline once and for all.
I showered and dressed, then got into Sadie and chugged down Farm Lane. How I missed the Mustang.
In Penniman, all the parking spaces around the town green were taken. That was the trouble living in a tourist destination. Many people stayed in the area after the Sunflower Festival to take advantage of Penniman’s lake, organic restaurants, antiquing, and hiking. I swung around the green and parked in the driveway at Dad’s house. It would be a quick walk to the green. As I passed the shop, Dad waved from the window, so I went in.
“Riley! You survived the weekend!” Dad grinned.
“It was super busy, but the shop did really well.”
“I’m so glad. So did we,” Dad said. “I heard you even had music from a famous country singer?”
“Famous? Cadillac Ranch, I mean Jasper Yeaton?”
Dad chuckled. “JD Yeaton. Paulette’s gaga for him.”
“Really, Riley, you have to keep up.” Paulette put a stack of books on the counter and took her cell from her pocket. She had the newest and most expensive model in a prettily decorated gold case. She turned the screen to me.
Someone had posted on social media: “JD Yeaton at Penniman’s favorite ice cream shop. Sweet tunes and sweet treats.”
Paulette said, “That would be a good slogan for Udderly: Sweet tunes and sweet treats.”
“I had no idea he was this well known,” I said. “Everyone at the shop calls him Cadillac Ranch.”
“He’s staying at Moy Mull. He also paints. He came here because he wants to be viewed as just another painter.” At first I was surprised that Dad had this scoop but then I remembered he was vice president of the Arts Guild. “We’ll oblige him.”
It was true. Penniman’s peaceful isolation plus the Yankee propensity to mind one’s own business made the village a perfect escape.
“How’s Caroline?” Dad said.
I filled him and Paulette in, lowering my voice as customers passed by. That reminded me of my errand.
“I’m going to talk with Emily Weinberg right now,” I said. “She and Kyle are pressuring Caroline to sell, and I want them to lay off. They’re even pressuring Darwin to try to influence Caroline.”
Dad said, “Darwin’s a man who knows his own mind.”
“That might be true.” I didn’t say it out loud, but maybe the pressure was getting to him. Pru was worried and she knew him best.
A customer approached with a stack of books. I waved goodbye and headed to Emily’s office.