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. The thought made her lips try to turn up, but she pressed them together to keep from chuckling.
Mrs. Potter stared down the road. “You need to get going because Delores is speeding up the road and her brakes aren’t very good.” Finally, she turned and looked at Angie. “We didn’t have a quarrel. The man killed my sister.”
* * * *
Things were getting curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say. Except this wasn’t Wonderland and Angie hadn’t fallen down a rabbit hole. Or maybe she had. She glanced around Ian McNeal’s cramped office and wondered if she was only dreaming. Angie pinched her arm just as Ian returned with a glass of iced tea.
“I’m afraid this is reality. No use getting all bruised up.” He sat the tea in front of her and then instead of going around the desk, he sat in the other visitor chair next to her. “I’m sorry about this morning. When Allen asked me if I’d seen anyone else talking to Old Man Moss, you popped into my head. He thought me being there might help when he questioned you.”
Angie stared into Ian’s deep blue eyes. “Why? Because I’m some female who needs taken care of?”
The jerk of his head was almost imperceptible, but she’d seen her words had the effect of a slap. “We—I didn’t mean to be insensitive. Allen’s just not good with people. His deputy typically handles the interviews and I don’t think they’ve had a murder in River Vista for over twenty years. And that was a bar fight.”
She was winning friends and influencing people. The way she was going, she might as well put a closed sign on the restaurant and get that chef job in Boise. “You and the Sheriff seem close. Are you friends?”
“It’s complicated. He’s kind of family.”
When Ian didn’t continue the story, Angie figured that door had been closed. “I’m still a bit shaken over the news. I didn’t know Mr. Moss well, but he seemed so settled. I was looking forward to getting to know him better as he knew my grandmother.”
“He could be a bit of a curmudgeon, especially when it came to his cheese. The other farmers thought he was cheating by taking on several government grants to build his barn and set up that darn cheese cave.” Ian glanced at his watch. “Sorry, I hate to move this on, but I’ve got another appointment in Boise early this afternoon. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Angie set the tea aside. “I need your approval to use your farmers’ network for our supply chain. Yes, The County Seat has filed corporation papers, but that’s just about business. My friend and I are the owners and we’re not hiding behind some legal maneuvering. We’re here for the long haul and I expect to make The County Seat one of the premier farm-to-fork restaurants in Idaho before we’re done.”
“That’s a lofty goal.” He glanced out the window that faced Main Street. “River Vista is kind of a small community for you to be expecting that kind of attention. Maybe you should look for property in Boise or even Sun Valley?”
“I grew up here.” She pushed back her hair from her face, a habit she’d tried to stop but had failed. “I know we can pull in from the surrounding areas. Besides, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve to bring in more business. Including takeout for busy couples. The only thing I need now is the produce and supplies to make the food. And that’s where you come in.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t just approve everyone who comes in here with a sob story. I have to protect the integrity of the food.” Ian sighed. “I’m going to be honest with you. We just had an issue with a guy who said all the right things, but once he set up shop, he
