For Cheddar or Worse (18 page)

The men disappeared around the corner. Snowball trotted after them.

Erin said, “Eat.”

I took a bite. Delicious. The blue cheese dressing with a zing of Tabasco sauce was divine, too.

“How do you stay so teeny eating like this?” I plucked a popover from the basket. It was drizzled with Cheddar cheese, also made fresh on the farm. To die for.

“I don't dine like this all the time. Usually I eat protein and vegetables and no carbs. Andrew can't do them. They ramp him up.”

“How is he? Does he remember any more of that night?”

“Not really.”

“Is he still chanting
up, up, up
and
down, down, down
?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it means?”

“It doesn't have to mean anything. And he's taken to repeating eleven thirty, eleven forty, two, two, two.”

“Do you think he's referring to the time of day?”

She sighed. “I don't have a clue.”

I took a couple of bites of the salad, savoring the turkey and bacon paired with avocado, and then I ate another bite of the popover while I considered the possibilities for Andrew's odd behavior. “Maybe he heard something going up or down at those times.”

“We don't have an elevator.”

“Maybe he detected a person on the stairs.”

“Hey.” Erin set down her fork with a
clack.
“Maybe he
heard the violin. You know, the bow goes up and down.” She mimed the movement.

“Except Kandice said whoever was playing the violin didn't use a bow. It was plucked.”

Erin moaned. “I'm sure Andrew is trying to impart a secret, but I can't make any sense of it. I've tried using his music to get him to express himself. I've switched on the metronome. I've handed him paper and pencil. Nothing works.” Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed them with her napkin. “Sorry.”

“Speaking of Kandice,” I said, trying to steer the conversation in the direction I wanted.

“Please.” Erin dumped her napkin in her lap. “Let's not talk about that night. How's Meredith?”

I assured her she was thriving; the baby was well.

“Ultrasounds are important at our age,” Erin said. “My mother was older when she had Andrew. They didn't do much testing back then. I wonder if she'd had some indication that Andrew would be a challenge—” She paused. “I think that's why she and my dad traveled so much. Mom needed breathing room.” Erin took another bite of salad and swallowed. “Are you and Jordan thinking about children?”

A shiver coursed down my spine. What was it about the topic of children that made me edgy? Was I afraid of something going wrong? Terrified I'd be an inept mother?

“We're starting to talk about it,” I murmured.

“Spring for the testing.” Erin stirred her tea using the stick of pineapple. “At our age, we have to be vigilant.”

“Do you want children?”

“First, I'd need a husband. I wouldn't raise a child on my own. I'm not saying that's not okay for other women. I'm a forward thinker. It just wouldn't be right for me.”

A silence fell between us. Cattle lowed. Crickets clicked. A flurry of birds scudded across the sky, twittering like crazy. And then—

Rat-a-tat!

CHAPTER

Erin swiveled in her chair and gazed at the toolshed. I followed her gaze. The building was older but well maintained. The door to the shed was propped open. The grounds around the shed were nicely manicured. Pansies grew in thick bunches along the sides.

The racket of a hammer hitting metal rang out again. Steady. Repetitive
.

“Andrew,” Erin said, as if that explained it all.

“He's in the shed?”

“He likes it there. Dad did all sorts of projects when Andrew was young. Those were some of the few times Andrew could remain calm. He loved the sound of Dad hammering or sanding things. Andrew keeps the door open so he doesn't feel trapped; however, a chorus of birds can startle him.” Erin sighed. “He had an incident with birds when he was five. Crows attacked him.” She shouted to her brother, “It's okay, sweetheart; the birds are gone!”

The hammering ceased, but Andrew didn't emerge from the shed.

“Is he all right?” I asked.

“Sure. He's regrouping. Almost like a computer rebooting after a shutdown.”

“Where are the other guests?” I asked. I spotted Shayna sitting on a bench beneath one of the oaks. She was writing in a notebook.

“Ryan and Victor went to the breakfast room for a light lunch.”

Leaning forward, I caught a glimpse of the two men sitting at a table beside a window. Ryan was resting against the back of his chair, arms folded across his chest. Victor was either giving Ryan a piece of his mind or, at the very least, a lecture. He repeatedly stabbed his forefinger in Ryan's direction. Suddenly Victor stood up and threw his napkin down on the table. Ryan hopped to his feet, too. Both men disappeared from view. Nerves were definitely on edge, I decided.

“Where's Kandice?” I asked, eager to turn the conversation toward her.

“She had a headache and went to lie down. She says Lara's death has hit her hard.”

“How well do you know her?”

“I met Kandice for the first time when she came to the farm to discuss the brain trust. It was her idea.”

As I had suspected.

“She'd heard about the annual Cheese Festival, and a lightbulb went off:
Bling!
” Erin popped her fingers to indicate fireworks exploding. “Or so she said. She's funny. She makes me laugh. Some might consider her quirky. I think she's colorful. Did you know she used to manage a dairy department at a college?”

I nodded.

“She didn't exactly fit into the university crowd. Rules, regulations, the standard of dress. Not for her. She quit. Got divorced. No kids. She's done rather well for herself in a span of a few years.”

“Did she meet with other farm owners around here as possible sites for the brain trust?”

“She met with ten in the region.”

“Why did she choose Emerald Pastures? Because it has an inn on the property?”

“I think that was part of it. After I gave her the full tour—” Erin hesitated.

“What are you remembering?”

“Come to think of it, she seemed more interested in the inn than the facility. She gushed over the antiques. She appreciated that I was refurbishing. She was absolutely enthralled by the grandfather clock. I gather she has quite an interest in timepieces. And she adored the chess nook. Her father was an avid chess player. Anyway”—Erin licked her lips—“at the end of the tour, based on the way she was talking about the number of people she intended to invite, I felt the farm wasn't big enough. The next day, however, she surprised me when she said it was perfect. She preferred intimate environments for the lectures.”

“Did she stay the night?”

“Yes. She had the same room she's in now. She asked me my opinion about dividing the group into two and housing them at separate bed-and-breakfasts. I told her it sounded more manageable to me.”

I pushed my salad around with my fork but didn't eat. “Do you know why Kandice didn't tell you about Lara taking part?”

“She said it was an oversight. She had so many details to attend to. Lara must have asked to join at the last second.”

As before, I didn't buy that excuse. I believed Kandice deliberately omitted Lara's name from the roster.

“Looking back, you know what's odd?” Erin went on. “Kandice mentioned how quaint the antique keys were. She told me about a nightmare stay she had at a hotel in St. Louis. Locked out of her room. The credit card–style key, useless. No one at the front desk. A stranger had to show her how to slide the plastic key down between the door and the jamb. Can you imagine?”

Interesting. Kandice knew how to get in and out of rooms like a pro.

I said, “Do you think Kandice could have broken into Lara's room the same way?”

Erin flapped her hand. “Uh-uh.”

“Why not?”

“Because Lara locked the inside bolt.”

“Says who?”

“U-ey. A bit ago. You just missed him. He came along with his deputy and the inspector.” Erin wiggled her fingers in the direction Deputy O'Shea and the weathered-faced man went. “The three of them examined Lara's doorway and determined there was no way to have unlocked the bolt from the outside. U-ey left. Now the deputy and the inspector are searching for other options.”

Neither Jordan nor I had noticed that the bolt had been thrown, but why should we have? Jordan had used all his efforts to kick in the door, not scope out the construction of the locks.

“Erin, hello!” Kandice exited the inn wearing a pretty floral midi and bright pink leggings. She limped slightly as she neared us.

“Headache better?” Erin asked.

“Yes, that green tea worked wonders.”

“It's filled with antioxidants.”

“Is your leg okay?” I asked.

Kandice gazed at her leg, as though assessing if it might give her an answer. “It's actually my hip. Whenever I sit in a chair for a spell, it knots up. I'm going to stretch it out. See you.” She hobbled away, head swiveling right and left as if searching for someone.

“Who's she looking for?” I asked.

“Who do you think?” Erin grinned. “Ryan. She has a big crush.”

“What about you?”

“What
about
me?” Erin asked then raised both eyebrows, catching my drift. “Oh.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Uh-uh. I'm not interested in Ryan or anyone. I don't have time. I have Andrew to think of. No man would . . . Uh-uh,” she repeated.

“I think Ryan likes you. He defended you when Chief Urso was questioning us.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean he—”

Ryan loped out of the inn. “Hey, Kandice,” he yelled. “Wait up!”

Kandice whirled around and flashed a broad smile. In a flirtatious way, she caught the side seam of her dress and started swirling the skirt portion to and fro. “Hi! Come take a walk with me.”

“Sure, I'll—” He caught sight of Erin and glanced between her and Kandice.

“Go ahead,” Erin said. “The walking trails are free to all.” Her voice quavered ever so slightly, giving herself away—to me, at least. She
was
interested in him. What a shame she didn't feel she could pursue him. Considering the graciousness of how Ryan had dealt with his former wife and how dedicated he seemed to his family, I would bet he was the kind of guy who could love a woman with a challenged brother.

As Ryan and Kandice disappeared, Victor emerged from the house. His face was tight. His shirt rumpled and hanging over his designer jeans. He held a cell phone to his ear and was barking orders into it. “Sell. Buy.” Was he talking to an employee or making a stock trade? He plowed down the steps, his designer high-tops kicking up dust and gravel, and hurried out of sight.

Erin shook her head. “Victor. He's so ridiculous, isn't he? He can't seem to help himself.”

“Has he hit on you?”

“Me? Heavens. I've got too much baggage. Besides, he likes them young.”

Except for Lara, I mused. And possibly Shayna, who had moved from under the tree and was heading languidly toward the enclosure of goats, like she hadn't a care in the world.

“Not to mention, Victor is too hairy,” Erin continued. “Have you seen that tuft of hair sticking out of the top of his
shirt? It's salt and pepper. Do you think he dyes the hair on his head?” She rolled her eyes.

“How well do you know him?”

“We've had numerous business dealings with him. As I said the other day, he brokers some of our cheeses online.”

“What do you know about Lara's nasty inference that she had dirt on Victor? Do you think it had something to do with the way he manages his business?”

“He is ethical as far as business is concerned with our farm. He pays on time. We see all the paperwork.”

I sipped my iced tea. “He seemed to know a lot about your violin.”

She clicked her tongue. “I still can't believe it's an Amati.”

“Honestly, your parents never told you?”

“They must have worried that I, had I known, wouldn't have touched it. I'm scared to death of breaking things. As a girl, I was accident-prone. At six, I skidded on gravel and tore up my shin. At eight, I fell out of a tree and broke my ankle. I can't tell you how many baking trays of cookies or stacks of dishes I've dropped. I don't have a condition. I'm just always in a hurry and easily distracted. That's why I've never touched the jade urns or the crystal. Ever. I leave those to the housekeeper.”

“Erin . . .” I ran a finger along the edge of the table. How to pry without being insulting? I plowed ahead. “How could your folks afford so many expensive things?”

“It's where they invested their money and why the farm is suffering. They took out loans. Both of them were obsessed. I couldn't fault them. All their lives, they were farmers. Born of the earth. Yet they had a deep appreciation for art and music. I think that's where they really connected, you know? They felt trapped on the farm, but not many farmers can move on like Jordan did.” She pushed her plate away, folded her napkin, and placed it on top of the uneaten food. “I would like to meet a man who appreciated music.”

Like Ryan
, I thought, but kept my opinion to myself.

“Did you notice the small painting over the chess table in the living room?” Erin asked.

“Of the woman and the girl sketching?”

She nodded. “It's the only pricey painting we own. Mother said it reminded her of us. I stunk at painting, but she would take me out in the fields, and we would create together. It's one of Monet's lesser works.” She swiped the air with a hand. “Now do you see why I can't part with anything? My parents still live and breathe in this house through their collections, modest as they might be.”

We finished our meal in silence.

Over a cup of coffee, I said, “What do you know about Shayna?”

“Not much. She has two girls. She's a widow. Never remarried. She makes excellent cheese. I could learn a thing or two from her about the cheddaring process.”

“Lara called Shayna's cheese bland.”

“She was mistaken. It's got grit.”

“I agree.”

“I'd compare it to an original Beecher's Flagship cheese. The fifteen-month version, not the four-year Reserve.” Beecher's Flagship has a complex yet robust flavor and a nice crumbly quality.

“Why do you think Lara ridiculed her?”

“I have no clue, except—” Erin chewed on her lip.

“What?”

“I don't know if I should talk out of school, but I heard Shayna and Lara chatting heatedly in the breakfast room the day before . . . you know.”

She was referring to the discussion—the
argument
. I recalled that both Erin and the ponytailed waitress made a U-turn to avoid getting caught in the middle.

“I didn't hear the whole conversation,” Erin continued. “Lara said something was Shayna's fault. Shayna apologized. Neither of them looked happy. Say, what if Shayna . . .” She pressed her lips together and exhaled. “You should question her.”

“Shayna? Why?”

“You've got”—Erin reddened, like she was embarrassed to say more.

“C'mon, Erin. I don't bite.”

“You've got a reputation for delving into things. You ask the right questions. People confide in you.”

Heat suffused my cheeks. I could only imagine how much Urso and my new husband would appreciate hearing about my reputation.
Not
. Except they had heard before, from numerous sources.

“Please,” Erin pleaded. “If Shayna had anything to do with Lara's death . . .” She didn't finish.

I clutched her hands. “Did you mention their conversation to the police?”

“It would be hearsay.”

“Erin, you're in trouble.”

She withdrew her hands and tucked both under her armpits.

“The police think you might have killed Lara to retrieve your violin,” I said. “You should tell U-ey everything you know.”