Briar said she would call me right back, but I knew it might take her some time to get ahold of her old friend Leif. I couldn’t sit in the parking lot forever, and I didn’t want to go back to the farm just yet.
I made another call to another old friend. It seemed to me I was realizing I couldn’t handle this on my own. Kristy picked up on the first ring and told me to meet her at the brewery.
It was late afternoon, and early diners at the brewery were beginning to go into the building. The front door was heavy and I thought original to when the building was a granary. I stepped inside and was surprised at the dim lighting. To my left behind a glass wall were giant steel fermenters that had to be twenty feet tall. To my right was the dining room and bar.
“Shi!” Kristy called and waved at me from the bar. She was sitting on the edge of one of the metal stools and looked like she was about to slide right off. A glass of water was next to her on the bar.
I smiled at the hostess and hurried over to her. “Thanks for meeting me.”
She patted the empty stool beside her. “Have a seat. You are probably wondering why I asked you to come to a brewery when I’m pregnant.”
The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn’t say that.
She smiled. “That handsome guy there is my husband, Kent. He’s a teacher and tends bar here in the summers to make a little extra money, and boy, do we need that right now.”
At the end of the bar, a tall man with dark, curly hair filled two steins from the tap.
“I usually come here when he’s working for an early dinner before the rush so we can talk. We both work a lot, and it’s hard to make the time, you know?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure if I really knew. The last serious relationship I had been in had been with Logan, and I had been so young.
Kent set the two steins in front of customers and came down the bar to us. He smiled at me, and his whole face lit up. “You are the famous Shiloh. Kristy has told me so many stories about you.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, returning his grin. “And congrats on the upcoming little ones.”
“Ah, thanks! Twins, can you believe it?” He gazed lovingly at his wife. “So, what will you have?”
“Diet Coke?” I asked. “I think with everything going on, having a beer is a bad idea right now.”
Kent snapped his fingers at me. “You got it.”
Kristy watched him go and sighed. “He’s such a hard worker. Just a really fantastic guy.”
“That’s great, Kristy. I’m really happy for you,” I said, smiling as I set my phone on the counter next to me, face up. I didn’t want to miss the call back from Briar.
“Did you leave anyone special behind in California?”
“I have friends there, but I know that’s not what you mean. I wasn’t seeing anyone when I left. There’s really been no one since…”
“Oh wow, you haven’t dated since Logan died?” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight.
“I have, just not seriously. LA is a grind, and there’s just not been much time for dating.” I closed my eyes for a moment, and Logan’s cheerful face and mischievous brown eyes filled my head. He had been gone so long now, and I wondered if it had not been for the few pictures I’d kept, would I have forgotten what he looked like?
“There hasn’t been much time, or you’ve used that as an excuse not to get close to anyone?” she asked as she lifted her water glass to me.
It was super annoying that Kristy still had the ability to see through me. Thankfully, I was saved from saying anything because Kent returned with my Diet Coke.
He set it in front of me. “I’d love to chat, but a party of eight just came in, and they all want cocktails. I’m the only bartender here until six when it really starts to pick up.” He smiled. “I’m glad I finally got to meet the famous Shiloh Bellamy.”
“Or infamous,” Kristy said.
I nearly snorted my drink.
“I’m glad I can still make you shoot liquid out of your nose.” She handed me a napkin.
I patted my nose with it. “No one would think I was infamous.”
She cocked her head. “Maybe not back in high school days,” she agreed. “You always were the teacher’s pet. But now might be different.”
I grimaced. “Are people talking about me when it comes to the murder?”
Kristy touched her glass of water but did not pick it up. “I’ve heard rumors…”
I wanted to bang my head on the bar. “How bad?”
“Pretty bad. Chief Randy doesn’t seem to have any qualms about telling anyone who will ask that you and Sully are suspects. In a town the size of Cherry Glen, just about everyone is asking.”
“Great.” I tapped my phone to see if I missed a call. Nothing.
“You’ve been poking at that phone ever since you got here. Do you need some kind of social media fix?”
“No, I’m waiting for a call from a friend.” I sighed. “Who is also an attorney.”
“Oh boy. Are the rumors right? Spill.”
“Well, you remember when we were in the diner and the mayor said Crocker was an investor in Bellamy Farm…”
She stared at me expectantly.
I leaned in close and told her the rest about Dad being against the Crocker investment but it being too late and the murder weapon being my father’s gun.
Kristy put one hand on her cheek and the other on her round stomach. “I can see why you want to talk to an attorney.”
I nodded. “My friend Briar is an attorney in LA, but she has a friend who’s a lawyer in Traverse City. She’s trying to see if her friend will take my case.”
She patted my arm. “I’m sure the attorney will clear up this mess in no time.”
“I’m not as sure. If the chief has already made up his mind like you said…” Tears came to my eyes.
“Oh no, we need emergency care here.” She slapped the bar and waved at her husband.
Kent stood in front of us a second later. “What’s up? I have four more cocktails to make.”
Kristy slapped the bar. “We need a cherry tower.”
His eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”
She pointed at me. “Do you see her face?”
I waved my hands in the air. “No, no, I don’t need a cherry tower.”
Kristy shook her finger at me. “You’re not in your right mind. Of course you do.”
Kent nodded. “I’m on it.”
“Kristy…”
“Hush.” She patted my arm. “These are desperate times.”
I sighed. She was right about that.
A minute later, Kent came back from the kitchen with the cherry tower. It was a dessert distinct to Cherry Glen, and I hadn’t eaten one in well over a decade. It was served in a tall and narrow sundae glass. The bottom was pie crust, followed by four kinds of cherries—this time of year all grown in Cherry Glen—vanilla and cherry ice cream, whipped cream, and of course topped with a cherry. It was over nine inches tall.
“I can’t eat that,” I said.
“Sure you can,” Kristy said. “You need energy right now to get through what you’re facing.”
“Energy maybe, but energy in that form is going to have me crashing in thirty minutes.” I pushed the spoon away.
“But what a way to go,” she said with a smile. “If you go to prison, don’t you want to go with this taste in your mouth? It will bring you happy memories on that hard cot.”
“Not helping,” I said.
“I’m just trying to paint a picture for you.”
“No need. The picture is seared into my head.”
She moved the cherry tower a little bit closer to me. “You need it.”
I gave her a look. “I’ll take one bite.” I picked up the spoon.
The cherry ice cream was as good as I remembered. I stopped myself from moaning—or at least I tried to.
Kristy laughed, telling me I hadn’t been quiet at all. I put my spoon down before I ate the entire sundae.
Kristy picked up a spoon of her own. “So if the attorney isn’t enough, what are you going to do to help your family stay out of prison?”
I shivered when she put it so matter-of-fact like that. “I need to find out who the real killer is.”
Ice cream dripped from her spoon to the bar. “I was afraid you would say that.”
“I have to find the killer myself. I have a feeling that Chief Randy already sees this case as closed. I can’t be arrested. I did nothing wrong. And my father can’t either. I need to clear my family’s name.”
She picked up a napkin and cleaned up the ice cream drips on the bar. “Shi, this isn’t some movie or television show that you wrote. This is real life. It’s dangerous. Need I remind you what the scene by the honey booth looked like? Someone shot him in the chest!”
A couple sitting a few seats down the bar from us stared at Kristy, openmouthed.
I smiled at them. “She’s just talking about one of those television true crime shows.”
“I’m not—”
“Kristy,” I said, spinning back in her direction. “I have to do this, and I need your help.”
She stared at me. “Help? If you haven’t noticed, I’m super pregnant. I’m not hunting down a killer in this condition. Have you seen my stomach?”
“And I would never ask you to, but I saw someone just before I found Crocker’s body. Since you run the farmers market, I thought you’d be able to tell me who it was.”
She picked up her spoon again and dug into the cherry tower. “All right, go.”
I described the young woman who had been running through the farmers market that morning and knocked me over.
She wrinkled her brow.
“Do you know who that woman was?” I watched her closely.
“I—I might, but I have to check before I tell you.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I might be wrong, and I don’t want to involve this person if I’m wrong.”
“They could be the killer.” I set my spoon on the bar. I had lost my appetite.
“I doubt it if I’m right.”
“Kristy, my life is on the line, and this person could have the answer.”
“I know that, but yours might not be the only life on the line.”
I opened and closed my mouth.
“Just trust me, Shiloh. Please?” She waved her spoon at me. “Give me some time. I’ll text you as soon as I know more, I promise.”
I didn’t think I had any other choice.
* * *
Kristy and I finished the cherry tower, and I told her I had better get back to the farm. Call me a coward, but when I returned home, I wasn’t ready to talk to my father about the conversation I had with the chief. I collected Huckleberry, my father’s old toolbox from the barn, and a shovel and set to work on the broken fence near the farm entrance. From what I could see, the task was daunting. Every last pole was leaning in one direction or the other. Huckleberry lay in the middle of the driveway with his head on his paws as if to tell me I was on my own on this one.
I walked up to the first pole and pushed it. It didn’t budge. I pulled it to the same effect. I grabbed the shovel and dug around. When the dirt was loose, it moved a third of an inch, but it was all the encouragement I needed to keep digging.
I had just started to make some progress when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I leaned my back against the pole so I wouldn’t lose the ground I’d made.
Sweat trickled down both sides of my face as I answered the phone.
“This is Leif Jansen. May I speak to Shiloh Bellamy?”
“This is Shiloh. I guess you’ve spoken to Briar if you’re calling me.”
“I did.” His voice was clipped and distant like an attorney I would see on a courtroom drama on television. “She told me about your situation, and I said I would give you a call myself. From what Briar said, we need to act quickly.”
Something about his quick assertiveness made the reality of the situation crash down on me all the harder.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” he said. “Tell me what you know.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling hesitant to open up to a man I didn’t know. However, I reminded myself Briar trusted him, and I trusted Briar. That would have to be enough. I quickly told him about Crocker’s murder and why the police suspected my father, and maybe me.
“It doesn’t look good for your dad,” Leif said.
“But I told you he’s on a walker.”
“Can he still drive his truck?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then he could have killed him, especially if the shot from the chest came from above.”
I frowned at the phone. This attorney Briar found wasn’t making me feel any better.
“Listen, it’s always been my method with my clients not to sugarcoat anything. My advice is to cooperate with the police as much as possible. If you or your father is arrested, call me. I’ll come down.”
“Why would I be arrested?” I yelped.
“You might be seen as an accessory,” he said, completely matter-of-fact. “Or you might have tried to get out of the contract with Crocker to save your tenuous relationship with your father. Crocker says no, and you shoot him in anger. It happens,” he said, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Maybe it was in his world, but it wasn’t in mine. I felt sick.
“Or,” he went on, “you could be seen as an accessory for covering up your father’s crimes. In either case, it’s jail time. The length varies though between murder and accessory.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not saying you did,” he said. “It’s my job to defend my clients, not to make judgments. From what I can tell, your father has the best motive, means, and opportunity, but I wouldn’t say you personally were in the clear. In any case, the police will be keeping an eye on you too.”
I had to swallow down an irritated sigh. I’d kind of figured that one out all on my own.