On shaky legs, I left my grandmother’s cabin. Her letter was tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. I hadn’t been in the cabin since Grandma Bellamy died, but the note still being there undisturbed must mean my father hadn’t been in there either. Perhaps I was more like my father than I thought. It was clear we both preferred to run from our emotions rather than face them head-on.
Tears rolled down my face as I walked back home. Why hadn’t my grandmother just told me where the stash of money was? Why leave just a clue? What was the heart of the farm anyway?
I wiped my eyes and increased my pace. Both Huckleberry and Esmeralda had to run to catch up with me. Grandma Bellamy wouldn’t want me to cry. She left me that letter because she wanted me to save the farm. She knew someday it would need saving, and I would be the one to do it. I couldn’t let her down. I couldn’t let myself down. And this money might be exactly what I needed to succeed—murder investigation or no murder investigation.
I broke into a run. Huckleberry barked as he and the cat ran after me. When I reached the old barn, I pushed the door open with a great heave and yanked the push mower out. “It’s time to get back to work.”
The cat and dog stared at me and then hurried out of my way. I marched the mower back to the edge of the yard where I had stopped when the police chief arrived and got to work.
I don’t know how long it took me to mow the lawn. An hour, two? But I didn’t stop there. I hurried back into the barn and pulled out a wheelbarrow and shovel. One by one, I started digging up the dead plants in front of the house and tossing them into the barrel. They would make for the start of a good compost pile when I could make an area for it. The hard work kept my hands busy as I went over again in my head who the killer might be. Part of me was still disappointed that Crocker’s wife had such a good alibi. She would have been a stellar suspect.
But I had others. Hedy Strong remained a good suspect. She certainly hated Crocker and his wind farm that threatened her beloved birds. Then there was the woman who ran away from me at the farmers market right before I found the body. She could have been fleeing the scene. I still needed to find her. Lastly, I could not count out my cousin Stacey. She sold her half of Bellamy Farm to Crocker. It was her right to sell it, but why didn’t she tell anyone? Did anyone else know? Would she kill to keep that secret?
I was digging out a stubborn bush that had seen better days when my father’s truck came down the driveway. I stopped working. My legs wobbled, and my arms felt like jelly. I had to lean heavily on the shovel to stand upright. I was going to be sore in the morning and probably the rest of the weekend.
Dad climbed out of the truck and reached up to pull out his walker. Even in my precarious state, I wanted to offer him help, but I knew he would never take it. He pushed the walker through the freshly cut grass and stopped a few feet from me.
“You’ve been busy.”
My mouth felt dry. “Just working out some of my frustrations.”
“You are so much like your grandmother,” he said. “I can see it when you tighten your jaw like that.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I almost told my father about the note I found in Grandma Bellamy’s cabin but stopped myself. “I miss her.”
“I do too,” he said, squinting into the sun. “I’ve made mistakes with you; I know that. I suppose after your mother died, I just buried myself in my collection. I should have cared for you and this farm. Instead, I spent money on things I didn’t need.” He adjusted his hold on the walker. “If it hadn’t been for my mother, I don’t know what kind of childhood you might have had. She raised you more than I ever did.”
I wiped sweat from my brow. “Dad, it’s all right.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not all right. Let me say my piece. I was barely able to keep the farm up when your grandmother was alive. After she died and you left, it only got worse. You would ask me how things were, and I lied to you. I knew things were bad but not how bad. You’ve spent so much of your money on saving this place, and I’ve let it go to ruin. I buried my head in the sand and my life in my collection. If I had been wise enough to look up, I would have seen I had dishonored my mother’s memory.”
“I didn’t mind helping you pay the bills.” I wiped sweat from my brow.
“I know, and that only makes me feel worse about it. You came here with a plan to rescue the farm from the mess I made of it, and I have fought you every step of the way. I owe you an apology.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “I owe you an apology too. I shouldn’t have left after Logan died. That wasn’t fair to you.”
“If you had stayed, I don’t know what your life would have been. You needed to go. I know that.” A tear rolled down his weathered cheek. “I’m just grateful you came back. Quinn reminded me that you were just trying to do what you thought was best for the farm.”
“Quinn? Quinn told you that?”
“He did. He has a lot of respect for you. He thinks you can save the farm too.”
I opened and closed my mouth. “When did he tell you this?” I asked.
“A few hours ago. He popped into play rehearsal, and we talked there.”
It must have been after we had the awful fight outside the general store. Why would he go to my father then?
My father cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m an old man. It might take me some time to change my ways. Be patient with me.”
I dropped my shovel on the ground and walked over to my dad. Stepping around the walker, I gave him a hug. “I think we both have to change something.” I let him go. “As long as Chief Randy doesn’t throw one of us in lockup, we’ll get through this.”
Dad laughed.
“I’m looking forward to your acting debut in the play.” I smiled through my tears.
He seemed relieved to change the subject. “I am too. It’s the first time I have felt alive in a very long time. I have Stacey to thank for that. If she hadn’t asked to use my collection for the play, I might have never left the house.”
I thought of Stacey differently when he said that and knew I owed her my thanks.
“She got me to come to rehearsal, and then next thing I knew, I was cast in the play. At first, I agreed because it was the best way to keep an eye on my possessions. Then I got into the part so much I didn’t even notice when someone stole one of the guns.”
“I’ll find out who took your gun,” I said.
“How?” he asked.
Before I could answer, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I assumed it was a text from Briar asking me to come back to LA. It wasn’t. It was my timer going off, telling me the town council meeting started in forty minutes. That gave me just enough time to clean up.
“I’m going to start finding out what happened by going to the town council meeting tonight.”
“Not without me,” he said with a smile that looked a lot like his mother’s.