Who's Dead, Doc? Read online

  After that, my kind, middle-aged, portly escort steered me toward the vendor room. His black hair, laced with white strands, flowed past his shoulders. He wasn’t handsome, nor ugly, just showed signs of exhaustion instead. I wondered if he worked all the shows and decided to ask.

  “I do most of them. Vera is a hard taskmaster, but she has to be or chaos would take over.”

  We’d reached the vendors, who were ready to sell a variety of goods to everyone. Bun almost swooned when viewing the tempting displays. Not just bunny snacks, mind you, but rabbit beds (like those used for cats), rugs, toys, games intended to entertain rabbits, along with feeding dishes and a slew of water containers. There were plenty of items to ask about and possibly purchase once the tour with David ended. Engaging vendors over their merchandise would fit in perfectly with my plan.

  On our way back to the main hall, David veered off to the left, guiding me by the elbow. The room had a sign designating it for competitions. Pointing out the judges’ stand, David explained the importance of unbiased judging. He needn’t have worried, I wasn’t friends with any of the rabbit owners, nor was I attached to their rabbits. That’s about as unbiased as I could be.

  “Winners are awarded after every competition and the best-of-show rabbit is determined on the final day, an hour before the show closes. Welcome to the crew, Juliette, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your confidence in me. This is my first judging experience and I find it all quite interesting.”

  “Oh, it will be that and more,” he said. The hint of mischief in his eyes caused me to wonder if there was more to the world of rabbit shows than what lay on the surface. Hm.

  “Before you leave, what position did Evelyn Montgomery hold here?”

  “A responsible one, like the rest of us. You have to work hard to maintain a show.”

  Okay, so was this guy a politician, or simply good at sidestepping an issue he’d rather not discuss? I chose the latter, since he in no way looked or acted like a politician.

  Gently, I mentioned how sad it was that such a vibrant woman had been killed.

  I must have hit a home run. He looked me straight in the eye and remarked, “She will not be missed by anyone here. Not the contestants, the workers, or the committee.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that. I was under the impression Evelyn was a mover and shaker in this business.”

  “The only thing she did was make everyone miserable.” He hesitated, and then said, “You seem like a sincere person with good sense, Juliette. Take my advice and refrain from asking questions about Evelyn that might be misconstrued and your intentions misread.”

  Taking his warning to heart, I looked down at Bun and then said, “Thank you for the advice, David. I appreciate it. I apologize, I was so shocked when I found Evelyn’s body, well, never mind that, I’ll keep questions to myself.”

  David nodded and left me on my own. Instantly, Bun and I returned to the rabbit stands, giving each one our full attention. It was then that I mentioned ownership of Fur Bridge Farm and that Jessica Plain had set up an animal clinic. I recommended her services and asked questions about their contestant. My gambit worked, as with any pet owner, answers were freely given with profound preening over their pet. This might not be Westminster, but by golly, these folks adored their rabbits. Just like I did mine.

  Curious as to why I hadn’t entered a rabbit, I said her allergy had kicked in and she wasn’t up to competing. The answer seemed to be accepted, so I offered it to anyone who asked. Having established a rapport with many of the rabbit owners, we made our way through the showrooms.

  We slowly made the rounds as Bun harped on asking questions about Evelyn. With care to avoid being seen talking to the rabbit, I took a seat on the nearest bench, pretended to cough, and lightly covered my mouth with my hand. “First off, we’ve been warned against doing so. Secondly, it wouldn’t be smart to begin our friendships with these people by jumping into Evelyn’s death immediately upon meeting them, and thirdly, we have time to find out what we want to know.” I had given a slight cough between the first, second, and third reasons why we’d wait.

  Not one to be put off, Bun said, “Let’s check out the vendors. They have some cool products. Did you see those beds? They might answer our questions, too.”

  Rising from the bench, we wandered the showroom and viewed merchandise by way of the left side of the room. Perusing the materials offered to make rabbits more comfortable and happier, I stopped at a booth to read a brochure on why this or that was the perfect must-have for any rabbit.

  “I think I need that bed, the blue one over there.” His right ear pitched to the left, drawing my attention from the brochure.

  While the salesman was busy convincing a couple that his products were allergy-free and the best-made in America, I whispered to Bun, “You aren’t getting a new bed.”

  “Jules, I really need that blue bed. Mine is lumpy and uncomfortable. Pleeeaaase?”

  That was the moment when the salesman turned his attention to us after he handed the couple over to an underling. I offered him a smile and a firm handshake, using Fur Bridge Farm as a way to start a conversation. After all, if the man saw me as a rabbit farm owner, then my credibility would climb, and his brain would make a cha-ching noise when he figured I had money to spend.

  I was right in my assumption. I could tell by his greedy smile and peering eyes as he looked at me and studied Bun.

  “I’m happy that you returned to my booth after your tour with David. Fur Bridge Farm has a spotless reputation. You must be proud of that.”

  Wow, he’d covered all the bases in one fell swoop.

  “I am very proud.” Looking at the beds Bun was determined I buy, I pointed out the blue one. “Could I get a closer look at that bed?”

  “Certainly.” Elvin Werfel, according to the name on his badge, slid the bed onto the counter and stepped back, waiting for me to look it over.

  The fabric was soft and smooth to the touch, unlike the corduroy bed that Bun slept on—and yes, he is quite spoiled. It would be a nice addition to his comfort.

  His nose working overtime, Bun’s whiskers bobbed up and down as he sniffed in the essence of the fabric. “Nice, very nice, indeed. I think you should get this for me.”

  “The fabric is very nice and the bed appears to be well made. Was this manufactured in America?”

  “It certainly was. My company is built on American-manufactured merchandise. We don’t carry any merchandise from outside the US.”

  Well, crap. I didn’t want to buy it on the first day. If it had been manufactured outside the country, then I could have begged off from the purchase. There is nothing wrong with merchandise from other countries, it’s simply a matter of personal taste. I liked to support what was American-made and that’s all there was to it.

  “That’s great to know. We have two days before the show opens, and I’m a judge for the games, so I’ll be around all week. If you don’t mind waiting until the end of the show, I’ll buy one of these beds from you. Thanks so much.” Before he could reply, I sped across the room and stopped at another booth.

  The same pillow-style beds were stacked on a shelf behind the salesman. In contrast to Elvin Werfel, this man was dressed in khaki jeans and a plaid shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Wavy brown hair and a smile the size of Utah set the outfit off completely. Jim Brody’s image reminded me of a country living ad, which was bound to draw in those who weren’t of the hoity-toity group. Elvin probably handled that bunch.

  I glanced at the badge pinned to his shirt and saw his company name and logo, You Need It, We Got It, beneath his name. I ordered from You Need It quite often and was satisfied with their service. He read my name badge, and then asked if he could pet Bun.

  Before I could answer, Bun said, “Of course he can. I’m feeling a bit rejected right about now.”

  I nodded, and watched as he smoothed Bun’s furry head, and then ran his hands o
ver Bun’s ears. This part of the petting was one of Bun’s favorite things. I had asked if his ears got itchy, but he had said no, that he liked having his ears rubbed. When Jim drew his hand away and then shook mine, Bun’s eyes, which had been closed, suddenly popped open.

  “You’re from Fur Bridge Farm, aren’t you?” Jim asked.

  “Yes, I do a lot of business with your company. It’s a pleasure to meet the man behind the scenes.”

  “How are things at the farm?”

  “Better than ever. My rabbit numbers have dwindled a bit from people selecting a rabbit for themselves, though. I will probably get more if the rescue people need me to take any they’ve rescued.”

  His brows rose a tad as a look of surprise crossed his features. “I wasn’t aware that was part of your rabbit care practices. How does that work?”

  I gave him a brief explanation of what took place, how the rabbits arrived and what Jessica and I did to acclimate these poor souls into our farm. I must have said the right thing, because he withdrew a folder from a briefcase that was on the chair behind him and handed me a packet of information.

  “I would like to offer you the opportunity to apply for a grant from my company. It must be very expensive to handle all that comes your way, especially with those creatures who have been abused. If you fill out the forms, I’ll take them back to the office with me and put them in the right hands.”

  Astounded by Jim’s offer, I readily took the packet and tucked it inside the sling, behind Bun. I lingered a while, discussing his company and their stock. He, too, only supplied merchandise made in America. “To my knowledge, we sell nothing but the best to our buyers. I firmly believe that though it might cost a little more, American goods can’t be beat. My representatives and I choose our stock wisely, or at least we try.”

  “Mr. Werfel said he only carries American-manufactured goods, as well. Is this a new trend for companies?”

  He glanced over my shoulder, took a quick look at the booth I had mentioned, and then snorted. “Elvin endeavors to buy the best, but he does trade with several companies that manufacture overseas. I don’t. If it isn’t made in the States, then I refuse to carry it.”

  “Nice to know.”

  “Have you resided in Windermere for very long?”

  “All my life. Why?”

  “You must know Meredith Carver, then. She’s married to Sheriff Carver.”

  “I know them very well. Meredith is a great customer. She buys the handspun yarns I carry in the gift shop at the farm.”

  He reached toward the shelf to his right, and pulled what appeared to be a knit baby beanie from the shelf. “Were you aware that she hand knits these for pets of all kinds? Even rabbits?”

  I could tell my jaw dropped and quickly closed my mouth. “She never said a word.” I took the hat and studied the design she’d knitted. I recognized the yarn as having come from my own shelves and was quick to say so.

  Jim nodded. “Please let her know I was asking after her. She’s a pleasant person.”

  “I will. She’s enrolled in a yarn spinning class at the farm. Maybe this will be the way she uses the yarn she’ll spin.”

  He leaned forward and murmured, “Her husband is investigating the death of a woman who worked with this show organization for several years. Did Meredith tell you about it?”

  Rather than my having to bring Evelyn’s name into the conversation, an opportunity had presented itself. Grateful for it, I sent a silent thank-you to the powers that be.

  I murmured, “Evelyn Montgomery was my contact for this affair.” I waved my hand around at the show. “Meredith doesn’t usually talk about Jack’s police work, I’m not sure he discusses it with her.”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “Was Evelyn easy to work with?” I hoped my expression was as innocent as my question sounded to my ears.

  “Not ever. She barked orders at everyone and was obnoxious, too, but she liked the rabbits.”

  Bun’s whiskers jittered. “That seems to be the overall opinion. Now, are you going to buy a pillow bed or not?”

  I ignored him and wondered if a tirade would follow because of it. He began to complain once I handed the knit beanie back to Jim. I resettled the sling to let Bun know I heard him and wasn’t pleased.

  He suddenly stopped mid-complaint, his ears all jittery. A clear sign he’d heard something I hadn’t. But then, I hadn’t paid attention to what was said by people walking the room. My focus was on any information I could gather from Jim without seeming pushy.

  I glanced at my watch, said a hasty good-bye, and promised to stop by again. It was way past lunchtime and Bun’s jittery ears meant he might have seen or heard an important tidbit.

  We left the room. I found a bench and again pretended to cough with my hand lightly covering my mouth. “What’s up?”

  “People are talking about you taking Evelyn’s place. One of them said you should be careful not to end up like she did.”

  My heart began to hammer against my rib cage. Here we go again, another dangerous situation.

  As if he could read my mind, Bun said, “Surely you knew there would be some level of danger involved?”

  My head tipped downward, again I gave a light cough, then whispered, “Mm, I suppose you’re right. Did you see who made the remark?”

  “No, it was a man with a deep voice.”

  I rose from the bench, petted Bun’s head, and said aloud, “It’s time to return home.” I made our way to the front entrance, considering what Bun had heard and realized we must be discreet when speaking of Evelyn’s demise for fear we would enter dangerous ground.

  My car sat in the staff section of the building’s lot. I opened the passenger door and let Bun out of his sling. He hopped into the front seat, then the back seat, and then back into the front. He hadn’t gotten to exercise all day. Closing his door, I went around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

  “It sure has been a long day. I’m exhausted and quite hungry.”

  “I’m hungry, too, we’ll eat as soon as we get to the farm. You’re lucky to have had a free ride all day. My feet are tired, I can tell you that. That building is much larger than I thought and walking it with you in the sling is tiring.”

  “I’m not that heavy. Besides, my being with you shouldn’t bother you in the least.”

  Certain he was insulted by my remark, I explained I hadn’t mean it that way, but meant the day seemed to go on forever.

  Mollified, Bun stretched out on the seat and closed his eyes. The moment we arrived at the farm, he jumped up to peer out the side window.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Several cars sat outside the gift shop. All was quiet until Bun and I entered the building. Spinning wheels hummed as they spun hanks of wool into yarn. Their whirring faint, but noticeable. The sight of such glorious colors caught my eye. Some newly spun yarn was ready and had been set aside for washing. Molly slowly walked the room, keeping an eye on the progress made by the students. Meredith Carver was one of them.

  I waved to Molly when she noticed me and then went into the barn. Bun jumped from my arms and raced through the breezeway. I heard the sound of the leather flap as it slapped against the edges of the wooden door after he dove through it into the kitchen. Similar to a dog or cat entry flap, I had fashioned mine of leather to secure it at night should Bun decide to go walk about.

  Bun rarely did that anymore, now that he felt safe in his life. He’d been abused by his former owner, and was rescued from dire circumstances. After Jessica and I had worked with him for some time, he had relaxed and become part of my household, buddies in the best sense of the word. Not long after he came into my life, I realized he could indeed talk to me through telepathy. At first, I’d thought my marbles had gone astray, but eventually reality set in and we’ve communicated ever since.

  His bowl filled with food, I set fresh water alongside it. I left Bun to eat and had a quick snack before I returned to the barn.
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  A schedule attached to a clipboard hung from a nail in the wall next to the phone. I scanned the list and readied feed for the rabbits as Jessica came in.

  She hauled a bag of pellets from the shelf, and asked, “How did it go?”

  “We’ve had an interesting day. I met the owner of You Need It today. He offered me the chance to apply for a grant from his company. I left the packet in the car, but will fetch it and take a look later. The farm could use grant funds.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you in financial distress?”

  “Not at all, it’s a matter of keeping money coming in for repairs to be made without a bank loan, should they be needed.”

  “Whew, I was worried for a minute.”

  By this time, we had fed the rabbits and were at the fruit, veggie, and water refill stage. The rabbits feasted on their meal. Even Petra munched away.

  “Petra seems to feel better. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am that her ailment wasn’t associated with snuffles.”

  “She’s a lucky one.”

  Having returned to the front of the barn, we organized the bags of pellets and then worked on moving the bales of hay to create space when a delivery would arrive. We’d cleaned our hands and heard the chatter of women, a sign the class had ended. I looked at the clock, it was going on five o’clock.

  “Shall we join the students?” I asked Jess, and opened the door.

  We stood at the door’s edge and saw everyone compare one another’s efforts to spin a skein of yarn. I gave Jess an elbow in the ribs and pointed to Meredith.

  Captivated by the yarn spun by the student next to her, Meredith spoke animatedly. I swear her hands were moving as fast as her wheel had. “Your work is so lovely, how long have you spun?”

  “About two months now. Molly’s a good teacher, very patient and she’s willing to help out when we all get stuck and have no idea how to rectify the problem.”