LITMIR.BIZ

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a mess of things.” He didn’t get up from the wooden chair. “Come by next Sunday and I’ll take you on a tour of the place. We might even hike down to the river if you’re up for the walk.”

      Angie hitched her tote onto her shoulder, unable to keep the smile from curving her lips. “That would be nice. I hope you enjoy the bread.” She stepped away from the chairs and met up with the realtor as she slowly approached, her gait uneven on the dirt driveway in her platform heels. “Hey Reana, didn’t know I’d see you this morning.”

      “Gerald and I are old friends.” Reana leaned down to Dom and cradled his chin. “Nice to see you again too, big boy.”

      Dom’s tail wagged so hard he almost pulled his leash out of Angie’s hand. She tightened her grip and aimed Dom toward the car and away from the expensive suit before he could leave paw prints on Reana’s pants. “I’ve got to get back to town. I have a lot to do before opening.”

      As she started up the car, she watched Reana and Gerald Moss greet each other. There was a tinge of familiarity in the way the two hugged, not quite friends and especially not lovers. But something. “None of our business, right Dom?”

      She backed out of the driveway and turned back on the narrow dirt road that would lead her back to the highway. Precious stood at the edge of the property and watched her go. At least she’d gotten the goat’s blessing. Now, she just needed to sweet talk Ian into letting her source her foods supplies from his bank of farmers. Then she’d be able to finalize the menu, pull off her first family tasting meal for the staff, and actually make opening night, which was less than three weeks away.

      “That’s all,” she said as she adjusted her rearview mirror to make sure the goat wasn’t following. She’d hate to let her good luck charm out and have her become road kill her first week on earth.

      * * * *

      Monday morning, she was deep into making some strawberry jam when a knock came on her kitchen door. Wiping her hands on a towel, she looked out the window over the sink. A large new Ram truck sat in her driveway next to what appeared to be a police cruiser. Her gut twisted. Felicia must have gotten hurt on her trip to the local festival. She hadn’t texted last night and Angie had been giving her some time before she called. A car accident? Or maybe something at the festival? Or someone? She squared her shoulders and went to open the door. As she’d expected, a police officer stood in his uniform next to Ian McNeal. What in the world was he doing here?

      “Miss Turner? I’m Sheriff Allen Brown. I understand you’ve already met Mr. McNeal here?” The sheriff nodded to Ian, but neither man met Angie’s gaze.

      “I have. What’s going on? Did something happen to Felicia? Or the restaurant?” Oh God, maybe the building burned down. Or the guy working in the restaurant had been hurt. Had she paid the insurance on time this month? If she got sued without even opening The County Seat’s doors, she’d never dig out of the legal costs.

      “Can we come in?” The sheriff took off his wide brimmed hand and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping the sweat beads off his too wide and too tall forehead. “It’s mighty hot already. I think summer’s going to be a scorcher.”

      “Of course, I’m sorry, come on in.” She pointed to the dining room table where her jars were set up for the jam that bubbled on the stove. She looked around the room and said the obvious. “I’m making jam.”

      “My mama used to make strawberry jam every summer. I loved that stuff.” The sheriff didn’t sit, standing near the door with his hat in his hand. “Look, ma’am, I hate to do this, but I need to ask you some questions.”

      “About?”

      The sheriff looked at Ian who raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I need to know if you met with Old Man, I mean, Gerald Moss yesterday.”

      “Yes. I wanted to set him up as a vendor for the restaurant. He invited me over Sunday morning for an early breakfast to talk about the proposal.” She squinted her eyes at both men. “That can’t be illegal.”

      Ian pulled out one of the chairs from the kitchen table. “Why don’t you sit down, Ms. Turner.”

      “Why should I sit down?” She looked from Ian to the sheriff. “I don’t understand. Visiting him wasn’t against the law. I mean, seriously? Why are you making my life so difficult?”

      “No ma’am, visiting isn’t illegal, but, well, I’m afraid murder is.” The sheriff turned his hat over and over in his broad hands.

      She sank into the chair Ian had pulled out for her, her energy sapped. “Murder?” She repeated the word, knowing she sounded like a magpie. “Who was murdered?”

      The sheriff took a chair and sat next to her. “Gerald Moss. Hikers found his body at the bottom of the canyon just a few hours ago.”

      CHAPTER 4

      By the time the sheriff and Ian had left, Felicia had arrived at the farmhouse. She shut the door after the men and sat next to Angie. “I heard about Mr. Moss in town so when you didn’t answer your phone, I came right out. What happened?”

      Angie stood and went to the stove to check on her jam. She’d forgotten to turn off the stove when the men arrived, so the mixture had kept cooking until she pulled the pan off the heat. If the jam wasn’t burned, it was at least scorched. And definitely ruined. She brushed tears away from her eyes. “I shouldn’t be feeling bad about jam when a man has lost his life.”

      “You make really good jam, but I’m not convinced that’s why you’re upset.” Felicia put her hand on Angie’s shoulder. “It’s okay to feel sad about Old Man Moss. I didn’t meet him, but everyone in town said he was quite a character.”

      Angie turned around to see her friend smiling at her. “He just had such a great life out there. He had the most amazing view from his front porch and the goats were a riot. You should have seen baby Precious. You would have fallen in love.”

      “Then let’s toast to his passing and send him on his journey with good wishes that his path to heaven is error free. I have just the place.” Felicia turned on her phone and opened up her task list. “I want you to come with me to the Southside Winery later today. I’ve decided that we’ll highlight their product as our house wine but I’d like you to check it out first.”

      Angie put the pot in the sink. She’d clean up the mess when she got back. She returned to the table and opened her tablet to her calendar. “Sure. I have to meet up with Ian at his office in thirty minutes, then I’ll swing by and pick you up and we can drive out together. That way you can update me on the hiring you’ve done.”

      They made plans to meet up and Felicia gave Angie a quick hug before she left. “Don’t think too much about Mr. Moss’s death.”

      But that was all she could think about. As Angie got into the SUV to drive into town, she saw Mrs. Potter sitting by her mailbox on a bench her husband had made for her before he’d passed on. Now, the wood was weathered and the bench needed a coat of paint, but structurally, it was still sound. She pulled up next to her and rolled down the window. “I’m heading to town. Do you need anything?”

      “Can’t think of anything, except maybe for Delores to show up soon. This bench is giving me hemorrhoids.” Mrs. Potter squinted into the cab. “Where’s Dom? Don’t tell me you left him home. You won’t have a stick of furniture left when you come back.”

      “He’s locked in the kitchen with his bed. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Just in case, Angie had left out not one but two chewy toys for Dom’s entertainment. “Hey, Old Man Moss died yesterday, did you hear?”

      “Good riddance to bad rubbish. I can’t believe I even sent you out there to talk to him. He never was any good.” She adjusted her walker closer to her. “I guess karma does work in mysterious ways.”

      “Did you two have a fight?” Angie wondered if Old Man Moss had been part of a love triangle with Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

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