Born in a Barn (Clucks and Clues Cozy Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  I’d forgotten what it was like, seeing her in action; she’d taken time off from her career as a criminal defense attorney to raise J.W. and Izzy. But now her switch had flipped. Gone was the sweet, soft, stay-at-home mom with perfectionist tendencies. Now, she was a pit bull defending her client. And she turned her fierce gaze on me next.

  “I can’t believe you’re letting him do this to Dad. You know very well he didn’t kill anyone. He has no criminal record, he has no violent tendencies, he has no motive to rob a backwoods convenience store for a few hundo in cash.” Andrea ticked off the counterevidence on her fingers.

  “Thanks, Anda-panda,” Peterson said, grabbing her hand. “You mean well, but Eli does, too. I think I know him well enough to say that he’ll be fair.”

  I nodded. “He will. Eli’s just following the evidence, and that means that he now needs to talk to the other people who may have seen Homer alive, right?” I turned to Eli, begging him with my eyes. While I wasn’t too pleased with Peterson, I hoped Eli wouldn’t jump to any conclusions, either.

  Before Andrea’s dreams of a happy family holiday were crushed, I wanted to be one hundred percent sure that Peterson had been involved in the crime. And while I had a strong suspicion he’d “disappeared” a chicken, it stretched belief that he’d murder a gas station attendant over a little scratched paint. Even he wasn’t that superficial or vindictive.

  Eli pressed his lips together, looking torn. “I want to believe you, I really do, but—”

  “You have his car keys. You have his medical kit. It’s not like he can go anywhere. Let us have Christmas. Twenty-four more hours.”

  Between my begging and Andrea’s stubborn stare, Eli didn’t have a chance. “Fine. I’ll give it a day. If Rusty or Joan can confirm they saw Homer alive, then great. But if not, I won’t have a choice, Pete. I’ll have to—”

  “I know,” Peterson interrupted. “I understand.”

  Chapter 16

  Still unsettled, I drove the now-cooled doughnuts back to the Church of the Everlasting, where the Walk-Thru Nativity would be set up in their hilltop parking lot. On the way, I picked up the cheesecakes from Sara at the Rx Café. When I pulled up to the church, Ruth’s car was already parked on the street.

  I located her in the church basement, where she was setting up the refreshments tables in front of the church’s pink, Fifties-era kitchen. Her hair was bundled up into a huge bun—her “getting things done” hairdo—and she was hustling like her life depended on it.

  She lit up when she saw the cheesecakes in my arms and motioned to the fridge behind her. “Put ’em there. Can you give me a hand spreading out the tablecloths?”

  “Sure.” I slid the dessert boxes into the fridge and went to grab the other end of the banquet-length tablecloth Ruth had unfolded. “I’ve got a cluckload of doughnuts and cider in the back of my car, too. The Pastry Palace said they’d deliver the pies later.”

  “Fantastic. Phew. I think we might actually pull this off.” Ruth straightened the tablecloth, plopped a wreath in the center of it, and stood back to admire the effect. Seemingly pleased with her artistic touch, she then moved on to the next table.

  I followed her, obediently repeating the motions to spread out the huge tablecloth. This table got an angel centerpiece. The third table had a couple of star-shaped candleholders, and the fourth one was reserved for the cash box and some glittery pinecones. When we were finished putting out the crock pots and cups for the hot cider, she dusted her hands and grinned mischievously at me. “Now how about those doughnuts? Think anyone will miss a few?”

  She helped me carry the boxes from my car down the precarious basement stairs and, despite her earlier threats, didn’t actually eat any of them, though she did open a box to breathe in the sweet, spicy scent. Her stomach growled audibly, and she snapped the box closed. “I better put these away before I get myself in trouble,” she grinned. “Want to grab some lunch?”

  I grimaced. “I don’t think anywhere in town is open on Christmas Eve. I probably should get back to the farm, anyway.”

  “Oh, right, you have company.” Ruth giggled. “How’s it going with that ex of yours? He seems—well, a little weird. I can’t picture you two together at all.”

  I nodded. “I know. I can’t, either. It’s going OK, though. I just have to convince Eli that he’s not a killer.”

  Ruth’s big blue eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “Wait, Eli thinks Peterson killed Homer Wilds?”

  “Yep. Well, maybe. For a while, he thought maybe Peterson was the last person to see Homer alive. But get this—the Greasy Spoon has a new security camera. Eli and I saw some footage from the day Homer died, and Peterson’s story doesn’t match what’s on the camera. Plus, Homer was killed by injection, and Peterson had syringes in his car.”

  “Whoa. Do you think he did it?”

  I shook my head. “He might be a jerk sometimes, but I know him. He wouldn’t do that. I think it’ll work out OK once Eli does a little more digging. On the security footage, a couple other people stopped by the gas station after Peterson left. If one of those people saw Homer alive, then Peterson won’t be in trouble.”

  “You mean, maybe one of them did it instead?” Ruth raised an eyebrow, and I nodded. “Who else was there?”

  “Joan came by in her yarn store van and parked behind the building for a few minutes. I thought that was kind of weird.”

  Ruth shrugged. “It makes sense, actually.”

  “It does? What would she be doing there, lurking behind the gas station?”

  “She was probably picking up Gifting Tree donations to bring over to the community center,” Ruth explained. “The gas station is one of the drop-off locations where people can leave toys. It’s pretty convenient since everyone stops there for gas anyway.”

  “Oh.”

  “Who else was on the tape?” Ruth prodded.

  I hesitated slightly. “You’re not going to like it. You know how Rusty had a job interview?”

  “It was canceled, though,” Ruth said swiftly. She looked like she might burst into tears. “Remember? He said it was canceled. He didn’t go.”

  “No, he said ‘it didn’t happen.’ But he went to meet with Homer, Ruth. I saw him walk inside the shop. And I saw him walk out a few minutes later carrying something—Eli thinks it might have been the money from the till,” I added apologetically. “Money’s tight for him right now, and maybe he got upset about the job falling through...”

  Ruth’s face crumpled and she took a step back from me, twisting her hands together anxiously. “Rusty wouldn’t steal. If he needed money, he’d ask me for it. He can’t go back to jail, Leona.”

  I could sense she was teetering on the edge of panic. “You’re right. I’m just hopeful Rusty will swear that Homer was alive and well when he left the gas station so that Peterson can go back to LA, and I can relax in my own home. I’ve been reminded why marriage is not for me.”

  Ruth chuckled at my self-deprecating tone, although her forehead was still creased with worry. She located her purple tapestry purse under a pile of grocery sacks in the kitchen and got out her phone, her hands trembling. “I’m going to call him.”

  She meant Rusty. I sucked the air through my teeth. Though Eli hadn’t told me to keep any of the information on the security tape to myself, I had an inkling that he wouldn’t like me tipping off potential witnesses—nor potential suspects. “Maybe let the sheriff’s department handle it? I’m sure it’s nothing. Eli will clear it up with him, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sorry, Leona. He’s my brother.” She held the phone to her ear while she waited for Rusty to pick up. A second later, the line connected, and Ruth let loose on him. “I’m pretty ticked off at you, Ruston Darrell Chapman! Why? Because you lied to my face. Yes, you did. Don’t deny it. You were on film marching your skinny rear end into Wilds Gas and Go for that interview, and you told me that ‘it didn’t happen.’ Well, it did happen. And you better have a darn good explanation
why you told me a tall tale about it.”

  Ruth listened, bosom heaving after her rant, as Rusty answered. A minute later, she interrupted him. “Hang on. I’m going to put you on speaker so Leona can hear.” She hit a button and put her phone on the table. “Go ahead, Rusty. Tell her what you just told me.”

  Rusty’s crackling voice came over the line. “Ugh, Ruthie. I don’t like airing my dirty laundry like this. It’s bad enough that everyone knows I just got out of the slammer.”

  “It’s OK. I won’t tell anyone,” I assured him. “Well, except maybe Eli, but he’s going to ask you anyway.”

  Rusty sighed, his voice resigned. “I went to the interview, and the ‘Closed’ sign was up. Right away I knew it was a bad sign. Probably should have turned around right there, but I went in anyway. Homer heard me come in and called from the back room. When I found him, he looked like a dog’s dinner. Said he had a belligerent customer earlier. Didn’t feel like interviewing me.”

  “You should have rescheduled,” Ruth objected.

  “I suggested that we do it the next day and he said no. Said he’d thought better of hiring a criminal and preferred someone more trustworthy. So I left.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that when I asked you at Knitty Gritty?” Ruth demanded.

  “I felt like a loser, I guess. Sorry about that, Ruthie. I should have told you.”

  “See?” Ruth mouthed across the table to me. I nodded. Rusty’s story sounded genuine, and even better, he’d actually spoken with Homer.

  “So Homer was alive when you left the gas station?” I asked, just to be sure.

  “Yup. Alive and ornery like always.”

  “One last thing, Rusty. What was in the paper bag, the one you carried out of the shop?” I held my breath as I waited for his answer.

  “Coupla Twinkies and a Mountain Dew. My consolation prize. Spent my last two-dollar bill on it—you know how Granddad always gave them to us for our birthdays, Ruth?” Rusty chuckled ruefully. “I’m so broke, I had to bust open my old piggy bank.”

  Ruth clucked her tongue sympathetically. “We’ll find you a job soon, don’t worry. In the meantime, if you need money, just come to me, OK?”

  “I hate to ask you for anything else.” Rusty sounded miserable.

  “Hush. Why else do I work so hard if it isn’t to help the people I love?” Ruth hung up the phone and shot me a smile. “Well, that’s settled. Thanks for humoring me. Will I see you tonight at the Nativity? The grandkids’ll love it.”

  I tilted my head, trying to decide. “Andrea and Peterson are going to bring the twins to see the animals. I think I might just stay home. I haven’t had a minute to myself these past few days, and I just want to put my feet up on the porch and watch the chickens. Plus, church isn’t really my scene.” I gestured wryly to our surroundings.

  The décor in the church basement looked like the Brady Bunch went on an Italian vacation. Mismatched furniture in loud tones clashed with classical oil paintings of European landmarks, interspersed with religious iconography. The wood-paneled walls were strung with tinsel garlands, and the baseboards on three sides of the room were lined with fully decorated Christmas trees. It was cozy but chaotic, and I just needed some calm.

  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s Christmas. That’s one of those times that church is everybody’s scene. You got married in a church, you’ll get buried near a church, and you celebrate Christmas and Easter in a church, right?”

  “I got married in a country club,” I objected.

  Ruth flashed me a huge, knowing grin. “And how’d that work out for you?”

  “Fine,” I growled. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Chapter 17

  Eli and Peterson were still racing cars on my kitchen floor with the kids when I got back to the farm. Andrea roped J.W. and Izzy into sitting at the table and fed them lunch while I filled her, Peterson, and Eli in on what Rusty had told me and Ruth in the church basement.

  “I told you,” Andrea said smugly. She dampened a paper towel with water and wiped a smudge of peanut butter off Izzy’s chin, then sent her outside to play with J.W., who was already spinning in circles on the grass by the lilac bushes.

  I grinned at her. “Yup. You told us all.”

  Peterson slumped back into his chair. “Thank goodness. I wasn’t looking forward to spending Christmas in jail.”

  “Happy now?” Andrea asked Eli. “Dad couldn’t have killed anyone because the victim was alive after he left. Done and dusted.”

  Eli nodded slowly. “I think we can rule you out, Pete. I have to say, I’m relieved, too—even though I’m not thrilled with the investigative methods. Now I have twice the paperwork.” He shot me a look, which I shrugged off. By now, he should be aware that I don’t keep secrets from Ruth, and obviously Ruth wouldn’t keep them from her brother. If Eli didn’t want me to conduct my own little investigations, then he should keep his evidence to himself.

  “Sorry not sorry,” I said. He grinned at me, shaking his head.

  Peterson chuckled, seemingly recovered from his dismay over everything. “Does this mean I can have my kit back?”

  Eli nodded and slid the med kit from under the kitchen table.

  “And my car keys?”

  Eli pulled them from his pocket and handed them over. “Now I have my afternoon cut out for me. Yay, paperwork,” he said, making a face at me.

  “I think you mean ‘thanks for doing my job for me.’ You’re welcome. Will we see you tonight, or will you be too busy?” I asked him.

  Eli nodded. “I’ll be there, but I’m on duty, so I probably won’t be able to hang out.”

  “Guarding the baby Jesus?”

  “Yup. And if any camels escape, I’ll be wrangling them.” He winked at me.

  After Eli left for his office, Peterson went to stow his bag back in the trunk of his car, and I took the opportunity to have a private word with Andrea.

  “You’re glowing,” I commented. “I think we may have found the cure for what ails you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

  “You were your dad’s lawyer for about fifteen minutes, and it’s like it woke up your soul. That’s the answer to your unhappiness, sweetheart. You’re ready to go back to work!”

  “Huh.” She leaned to look out the window at J.W. and Izzy. They were joking and playing with Peterson in the driveway, dodging his grasp as he pretended to try and catch them. “Maybe you’re right. They’re so independent now. It’s possible I’ve been a little bit bored.”

  I shrugged. “Think about it, anyway. You’re an amazing mom, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay home. Not everyone’s cut out to be a housewife forever.”

  And didn’t I know it.

  The kids came back in and begged me to read to them, so I took them to the living room, settling both of them on my lap with a stack of stories. They fell in love with a scented Christmas book with scratch-and-sniff panels, and we must have read it five times. On the sixth time through, Peterson came in just as I scratched the sticker on a pine tree. Izzy leaned forward to inhale the scent, then passed the book to J.W. so he could have a turn.

  When J.W. finished, he held the book out for Peterson to sniff, too. “Here, Gamp. It smells like tree smell.”

  Peterson sniffed it dutifully and shared a grin with me. He waited until we finished the rest of the book and the kids ran off to play before he revealed the real reason he’d come to find me.

  “I decided that I’m not going to the church thing with you and Andrea this evening.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave now that he’d been officially exonerated of any wrongdoing in relation to Homer’s death. Though he’d been too quick to anger over the damage to his car, he’d only acted in self-defense, and he’d done his best to help Homer after the fact. But I was shocked at my own disappointment that he was leaving.

  “The kids will miss you, but I understand why you’d
rather blow this popsicle stand,” I said. “It’ll be nice to get back to civilization, huh?”

  Peterson chuckled. “I’m not hitting the road just yet. Truthfully? I kind of hate to leave this place. You’ve shown me what I’ve missed, living my whole life in the big city. That’s why I want to do something nice for you tonight, Leona.”

  “Nicer than a brand-new Porsche?” I grinned at him.

  “I want to cook you and Andrea and the grandkids dinner, if that’s OK. I don’t know if we’ll ever spent a holiday all together like this again, and I just want one more family meal together.”

  Leaving Peterson alone in my house for a couple of hours? A week ago, the idea would have been unimaginable. But now, it didn’t sound so terrible.

  To my surprise, I actually trusted the guy.

  Chapter 18

  The neighborhood around the Church of the Everlasting was packed with cars. Andrea’s eyes widened as she wound the rental car through the side streets, looking for a spot.

  “The church parking lot’s blocked off for the Nativity, otherwise we could park closer,” I explained.

  “I had no idea that so many people even lived in Honeytree!”

  “They don’t. I think most people live out in the sticks, like I do. But everyone shows up for these community events.”

  Andrea finally found a spot a few blocks away, and the kids piled out of their booster seats onto the sidewalk. We joined the many families straggling toward the church parking lot. Izzy bobbed beside me, skipping and squeezing my hand every so often. J.W. clung to Andrea’s arm, a little more cautious about what lay ahead of us.

  A temporary fence had been constructed around the entire lot to block our view of the Nativity itself, which only added to Izzy’s excitement.

  “What’s inside, Nana?” she asked. “Is there candy?”