I stumbled from the dark interior of the barn into the bright morning sunshine, throwing up my arm to shield my dazzled eyes. I pounded up the steps to the screen door of the Love Nest and yanked it open. The inner door was ajar.
Why hadn’t I brought my phone? There’d been a landline here ages ago—there! A black phone was mounted on the wall by the avocado green refrigerator. My fingers trembled as I dialed 911; I took a deep breath to steady my voice as I gave the dispatcher directions. He told me to stand outside and wave down the police cars.
I hung up the phone, realizing too late that he’d probably assumed I called from a cell phone and expected me to stay on the line. My body thrummed with adrenaline as I paced in the small kitchen. Who killed Mike? Where was Angelica? What happened?
There were only four rooms in the snug one-story cottage: kitchen, living room, bedroom, bath.
On the oak kitchen table were an empty wine bottle and two glasses. The label read Penniman Ridge Special Edition in gold lettering; it was from the winery just down the road. In the clear light streaming through the lace curtains, I could see the dregs of wine in both glasses, and lipstick on the rim of one glass, deep red lipstick. Angelica’s color.
An overwhelming feeling of something missing came over me. What was it? The wooden counter and white porcelain sink were empty. I scanned the living room. There was a brown leather recliner, a plaid loveseat covered with a crocheted afghan, and an old television with a VCR set on a homey, blue rag rug. I turned back to the kitchen and caught sight of a wadded-up piece of paper on the floor next to the refrigerator.
Sirens wailed in the distance. I hurried to the bathroom to get a tissue and used it to pick up the paper. I was messing with evidence, but I couldn’t help it. Caroline had mentioned that nobody had stayed in the Love Nest since leaf peepers last fall. This paper must have to do with Mike and Angelica … and perhaps, his murderer.
I unfolded the crinkled paper which had been folded into three sections, as if to fit in a business envelope. I scanned the floor but didn’t see any envelope; the trash was empty. I turned the paper over, opening it just enough to read the typed message: “Meet me at midnight. The usual place.”
The usual place? The barn?
Memories tumbled back to high school. Saying Mike was popular with girls was an understatement. Buzzy always teased him and called him Romeo. Caroline and I had seen him bring dates here to the barn. We knew they weren’t just visiting the ponies.
Now Romeo was lying dead where he’d met so many of his Juliets.
A police car pulled up to the cottage. I put the note back where I’d found it and stepped outside onto the front porch to meet the cops.
I watched in disbelief as the peaceful road by the barn filled with police vehicles. Right after I directed officers to Mike’s body, I told them Angelica was gone.
The officer questioning me was tall, with a thick head of dark brown hair going gray at the temples and an impressive beard that called to mind sea captains and biblical prophets. He handed me his card: Det. Jack Voelker. Penniman Police Department.
“Angelica Miguel? The tennis player?” The officer’s eyebrows rose. “Do you know when she left?”
“No. No idea.” My heart rate ticked up. Was she okay? Did she have something to do with Mike’s death?
I had to tell Caroline about Mike. I tried to tamp down my impatience as I answered the detective’s rapid fire questions.
“Name?” he said.
“Riley Rhodes.”
“Address?”
I gave him the address of my tiny one bedroom apartment tucked away on a cobblestone street in Old Town Alexandria, Virginia.
“Occupation?”
“Librarian and travel blogger,” I said. He didn’t ask so I didn’t mention that I was a librarian at the CIA. That would definitely complicate things.
“What brings you to Penniman?”
When I answered ‘Buzzy Spooner’s funeral,’ the detective paused his note taking for a brief glance that told me he’d known Buzzy.
He angled his head toward the barn. “How did you know the deceased?”
“Mike’s the brother of my friend, Caroline Spooner.” Caroline. Who was asleep in the house just down the lane, who had no idea her brother had been murdered. “I have to tell Caroline about Mike. He’s her brother.”
An officer stood behind Mike’s sedan, taking down the license number. Voelker flashed a look at his counterpart. I read it clearly: they weren’t going to let us alone together, give us time to get out stories straight. Because I’d just told them we were friends. Because we might be suspects. No, we were suspects.
My hackles rose and I tried to keep my voice steady. “I told you everything. When I came out for a run this morning, Caroline was asleep in the house. Please, I have to tell Caroline about Mike.”
Voelker jutted his chin at his counterpart. “Accompany Ms. Rhodes to the house. Ms. Rhodes, you’ll have to come to the station later to sign your statement.”
“Yes, of course.”
A cruiser pulled up to Buzzy’s house as I hurried down the lane with my keeper. Another officer got out of the cruiser and introduced herself but I barely heard her.
I ran up the steps ahead of them. The house was quiet, filled with the scent of coffee and the cloying sweetness of the floral arrangements. I went upstairs, one officer behind me, her equipment belt jangling.
I hurried to Caroline’s bedroom and knocked softly on the doorjamb as I pushed it open.
“Riley?” Caroline’s voice was groggy. “I took one of Buzzy’s sleeping pills and I’m so out of it. Did I hear sirens?”
“Caroline.” I hurried into the room, sat on the side of her bed. Sprinkles lay next to Caroline and blinked up at me. Caroline fumbled for her glasses and gasped as she noticed the officer at the door.
“I’m sorry, I have awful news.”
The next hours were a blur. Caroline threw on some jeans and a T-shirt and joined the police in the living room. I thought she’d fall apart when she heard the news about Mike, but her reaction was the opposite: she’d gone still, her narrow shoulders bowing as if under an invisible weight.
After Caroline spoke to an officer, I made her a cup of tea and put in a spoonful of sugar. “Try to drink this.”
She took the cup but held it in her lap, her face devoid of expression. A volunteer from Penniman Police’s chaplain corps sat next to her. He spoke softly to Caroline—I couldn’t make out his words, but his accent was lilting, comforting. When she lifted the cup to her lips and drank, the small, normal act sent a surge of relief through me.
The front door opened and another officer came in without knocking. Murder made manners go out the window. A few moments later a yelp came from the kitchen. “Ow!” Sprinkles dashed into the room followed by the officer. “Geez, I tried to pet her and she bit me.”
“I’m so sorry!” Caroline set aside her tea, rushed to Sprinkles, and cuddled her. “Bad cat! Don’t worry, she’s had all her shots.”
I put an arm around Caroline’s shoulders. “Can she go lie down now?”
The officer shared a glance with the chaplain. “Yes. We’ll be back later to ask you a few more questions, Miss Spooner.”
“When can I see Mike?” Caroline’s voice cracked.
“We’ll let you know.”
I thanked the chaplain and officer, then accompanied Caroline upstairs where she sagged onto the bed. Sprinkles hefted herself onto a footstool next to the bed and then onto the pillow next to Caroline.
By the window, the canvas on the easel showed sunflowers reaching to the horizon, a mirror image of the scene out the window. Caroline must have spent hours last night working on it.
“Riley.” Caroline gripped my arm. “I can’t handle this, not with Buzzy gone too!” I held her as she wept.
I called Dr. Gilroy, the Spooners’ longtime family physician. He gave Caroline a mild sedative and tucked her into bed. He was a lovely man—he’d set my broken arm when Buzzy’s pony Buttercup had bucked me off when I was twelve.
“I’m glad you’re here, Riley.” Dr. Gilroy shook his head. “This is tough.”
I walked him to his car. As he drove off, a white Lexus SUV pulled up. Kyle jumped out and rushed to me as Nina exited the passenger door.
“Riley, how’s Caroline?” Kyle’s brow furrowed as he looked up the lane toward the police vehicles at the Love Nest.
“Sleeping. Doc’s given her a sedative.”
Nina’s eyes were troubled as she slipped an arm around Kyle’s waist and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. He pulled her close with a convulsive movement and my heart caught, remembering that Kyle and Mike had been best friends since high school. Kyle’s light blue button-down shirt was wrinkled, his thick gold hair mussed, and he needed a shave. “This can’t be real,” he muttered. “What happened? What are the police saying?”
Though my heart went out to Mike’s longtime friends, I couldn’t bring myself to go through another recounting of finding Mike’s body. “I don’t know,” I said.
“I’ll ask Jack what he knows,” Kyle said. “Tell Caroline that we’re here for her, okay?”
Nina gave me a sad smile, then followed her husband as they got into the car and drove up the lane. From what I’d seen of the taciturn police detective, I didn’t think Kyle would learn much.
A crowd gathered around me: Flo, Willow, some of the farmhands, Pru. Shock rippled through them as the news spread.
Though the morning was already warm, Pru rubbed her arms as if chilled. “I have to tell Darwin. He’s been working in the orchards since dawn.”
I recalled the emotional rasp in Darwin’s voice last night. He’d made it clear whose side he was on: Caroline’s, not Mike’s. I wondered how he’d take the news.
A truck from the dairy farm rumbled into the shop’s parking lot. “Oh, my, that’s the milk and cream delivery,” Flo said. “We have to open so we can get that in the refrigerator.”
I felt everyone’s eyes turn to me. We all needed to keep moving and stop thinking of the grim line of emergency vehicles parked at the Love Nest. With a police officer just downstairs, Caroline couldn’t get much safer.
“Let’s get to work.” I headed to the shop.