Читать книгу Who Moved My Goat Cheese? - Lynn Cahoon - Страница 11

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 conveniently forgot to pay his debts. Then, he moved on to another town where he could pull the same scam. The farmer group lost a lot of money. I just want to make sure you are going to be part of the community, not just a fly by night drifter.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I know a farm-to-fork concept will thrive out here. I studied the demographics before I bought the building and took out the loan. But I need locally sourced produce and protein sources to make it successful. I’m hoping to be 100 percent local, but there may be products I might have to use from at least organic sources. Like olive oil.”

“You could use local butter. There’s no reason to break your farm-to-table pledge if you are really committed to local sourcing.” Ian glanced at his watch again, standing to end the meeting. “I really have to go. I’m expected at the cheese commission in Meridian at two. We’re discussing a memorial for Gerald.”

“What about my suppliers?” Angie stood and watched as Ian opened the door, holding it for her.

“I’ll send out an email to the group. If you insist on trying, I can’t stand in your way. But don’t think that it’s going to be easy. Most of these guys don’t like change. And they really don’t like new ideas. Just talk about honoring their food and they might choose to work with you.” He tossed his head toward the door and Angie followed him out. He locked the small office, turning the in sign to out. “But I can’t make them sell to you. You’re on your own there.”

“I’m sure I can be convincing.” Angie put on her best smile.

He stopped in the hallway. “Please, take this the way it’s intended. But don’t smile like that when you’re talking to the guys. You look creepy.” He turned around and headed out to the street.

“I do not look creepy.” She called after him. She examined her reflection in the glass of the doors, trying out her smile again. Okay, so it looked a little creepy. Her cell rang. “Hello?”

“Where are you? I thought we were going to the winery for lunch?” Felicia whined. “I’m starving.”

“I’m right down the street.” Angie pushed open the door. Ian was getting into an older wagon with logos on the side announcing the River Vista Farmers Market. She supposed she should thank him, but he hadn’t been particularly supportive of her ideas. In fact, he’d insinuated she’d fail. Well, she’d show him. Creepy, he was creepy, not her. She spun left and headed to the restaurant.

The short walk did nothing to cool the steam. That man was infuriating. If he wasn’t key to The County Seat being successful, she’d show him what he could do with his concern about her smile. This is why she liked being in the kitchen. There, no one bothered her, except maybe a waitress with a bad attitude or a sous chef who wasn’t pulling his weight. Those things she could handle.

She found Felicia sitting outside with a book in her hand. Another Highlander romance from what she could tell by the cover. When her friend saw her, she popped up. “I’m so hungry, I could eat this book.”

“Sorry, I got tied up.” She motioned to the back of the building. “I parked in the back. Let’s go before I decided to go back and trash his office.”

“I take it the meeting went badly? What are we going to do about supplies?” Felicia followed Angie around the building, trying to keep up.

“Oh, he’s letting people sell to us. He doesn’t think I’ll be very effective working with his farmers though. He treats me like…” She paused and considered the last hour. “A helpless female.”

“Oh, boy.” Felicia climbed into the passenger seat.

Angie started up the car and looked over at her friend. “That’s all you got? Oh, boy?”

Felicia squirmed in her seat. “It’s just that I know how you can get. If you think you’ve been slighted, well, you go a little overboard to fix things.”

“I’ve never gone overboard.” Angie pulled the car out of the small lot and drove out of town.

Felicia turned toward her. “What about the time you sent 12 dozen cookies to the reviewer who didn’t like your dessert?”

“She deserved them. She wouldn’t know a good dessert from a store-bought cookie.”

“And the time you bought out every avocado, lime, and tomato the market had on hand because they refused to special order your produce?”

That had been a little extreme. They’d been making some sort of salsa special for the next week, trying to use up all the produce before it went bad. “It worked didn’t it? The manager called me the next day and set up an ordering process.”

“You can’t always get what you want by bulldozing people. You need to find some charm and use that.” Felicia smiled. “Like me. I’ve made a lot of new friends since we moved here. There was a rocking band down at the bar last night. I love that I can just walk home when I stay out too late.”

“You really should be careful. Bad things can happen here, just like they do in the big city.” Angie snuck a look at her friend. Man, she sounded like an old lady. Or maybe like Kirk, the vet. And from the look on Felicia’s face, she was taking the unsolicited advice just as well as Angie had from Kirk.

“I’m a big girl. If I want to be griped at, I’ll call my mother.” Felicia slumped in her chair. “What has your goat today? Did Ian really tick you off that bad?”

The car was quiet for a while, then Angie blew out a breath. “I don’t know if it’s Mr. Moss’s death, or just being home. Maybe a combination of everything. He was so sweet, and he knew Nona. I wish I’d known him when I lived here as a kid. But I was too busy doing kid stuff. If she’d offered to take me out there, I probably would have begged off to read or go to the town pool.”

“Kids think everything’s going to be the same forever. They don’t have the ability to think past the next swim party.” Felicia leaned forward. “Speaking of swimming, did you know they float in rafts and on inner tubes down Indian Creek? There’s a park where people leave their vehicles, then they float downstream to another spot where someone drives them back. I was talking about floating the Boise River soon and Tank told me about the creek just outside town.”

Angie smiled at the memories that came flooding in. She’d been a teenager the last time she floated the creek. Who had she been dating then? She couldn’t remember his name but he was tall, dark, handsome, and the captain of the football team. The summer romance hadn’t lasted past fall when she’d gone off to college, but he’d been fun.

“By the look on your face, you did know about the creek. You have to tell me the story behind that blush.” Felicia crossed her leg under her and turned toward Angie, leaning back against the door.

“Just memories.” Angie ignored the plea in her friend’s voice and turned up the radio station. She hadn’t had a country station set on her vehicle for years. Now that she’d returned home, she found the station she used to listen to was still going strong. “Tell me about the hiring. Any hiccups?”

“I’m still looking for your sous chef, but the college says they might have someone locally who would be interested. I guess they graduated a few years ago but haven’t worked in the field.” Felicia pulled out her phone. “Good news is I’m fully staffed for front of the house. We have our first training next week. I was hoping you’d come.”

“That would be perfect. We could do a trial run on a few of the menu items the same day if you can get my kitchen staff in for a few hours before and we’ll do a family meal together.” Angie started humming along with the song playing on the radio. Everything was going to work out. She could feel it.

“So what was the old guy like? I’ve heard stories he could be mean.” Felicia put her phone away after making a few notes on her calendar. “All fire and brimstone?”

“He was a little brusque at first. Dom liked him and you know he’s a good judge of character.” Angie thought about Dom stuck in the kitchen. Maybe they should run home first and let him out for a minute. She glanced at her watch. They had an appointment with the winery owners at two and if she made the detour, not only would they be late, they might miss the lunch serving. She sent positive thoughts to her dog and hoped he was sleeping rather than using her kitchen table leg as a chew toy.

“Dom is still a puppy. He hasn’t had a chance to meet any truly evil people. Maybe he just likes everyone?” Felicia narrowed her eyes. “Where is he by the way? Did you get that fence installed and I didn’t notice?”

“The crew’s coming tomorrow but I decided to leave him in the kitchen. I put everything away.” Including the clean jars she’d gotten ready for the failed strawberry jam that morning. “The doors are shut tight to the rest of the house.”

“You like to live dangerously.” Felicia grinned. “Anyway, I heard Mr. Moss killed a girl when they were young.”

“Mrs. Potter’s sister.”

Felicia sat straight in her seat. “What? You’re kidding, right?”

Angie told her what she’d heard from Mrs. Potter. “I’m sure it was just sour grapes. I mean, the Sheriff didn’t say anything about Mr. Moss being a murderer. And besides, if he was, he’d be in jail, not running a goat farm.”

“Maybe they isolated him because they couldn’t prove it but he was shunned from all human contact.” Felicia sat up straighter in her seat and Angie could see the wheels turning as she concocted a story.

“You read too much fiction. Especially stories about wounded heroes.” Angie tapped the steering wheel with her fingers, thinking about how she might find out. “Maybe we should go visit the library and see if they have the old newspaper articles on file. If she was murdered, it should have made the paper.”

“If she stubbed her toe on the sidewalk it would have made this paper. Have you read it yet? I can’t believe the things they call news around here.” Felicia grinned. “In California there would be too many murders to do an article about each one. Here, they do articles on the local festivals and new businesses opening in town. And by the way, a reporter named Doris will be calling you tomorrow. I pushed her off a day since we were so busy today.”

“Why didn’t you handle it? You’re part owner too.” Angie grumbled, her good mood disappearing as fast as it came. Burning the jam this morning had started off a run of bad luck. She needed to get home and try again so at least the day would end on a positive note.

“She wanted to interview the successful chef coming home.” Felicia shrugged. “I thought it was a good angle. Oh, there’s the winery. Isn’t this location lovely?”

It definitely was lovely. The winery sat on the ridge of the canyon. The road they were on would wind its way down to the riverbank and cross the new bridge that had been constructed a few years ago. The old bridge had been turned into a walkway for bicyclists and pedestrians to get to the trails on the other side of the river.

The winery hadn’t been here when she left. Or if it had, she hadn’t thought about it as a place to go. Of course, she’d still been too young to drink when she went off to college. A fact that didn’t seem to stop her from drinking too much, especially her freshman year. She’d straightened up during her first culinary class during sophomore year. When she’d found her calling.

She found a parking spot near the door. The lunch crowd had already left which would make it easier to talk business with the owners. Walking into the building, she was reminded of the Napa Valley wineries she’d visited the summer before they’d left California. Same lovely flowers planted in large half barrels. But here, a row of white rockers sat on the porch. “Kind of looks like Cracker Barrel, doesn’t it?”

Felicia shot her a ‘be quiet’ look and pulled open the door. They entered the winery and walked toward the hostess table that doubled as a cashier station for the wine that was displayed throughout the room. Little signs on tables suggested food pairings to go along with the wines. Angie picked one up. “This is a great idea. We should think about a suggested wine or drink pairing with the entrees.”

“Do we hire a sommelier? Or a sous chef? Because we can’t afford both.” Felicia nodded to the hostess stand. “Let’s get a table. I’m starving.”

The hostess led them to a small table covered with a white linen tablecloth. Empty wine glasses sparkled in the sunlight. The woman set up a small chalk board. “These are our lunch options. The soup and salad are always popular as is the grilled salmon sandwich. Take your time, Connie will be with you in a few minutes.”

“I guess this saves money printing up menus.” Angie picked up the menu board. “But you’d have to come in early every day and write out the different selections.”

“Maybe that would be the sommelier’s job. He would need something to occupy his time since we’ll be paying him an arm and a leg to pair wines.” Felicia smiled up at the woman pouring water in her glass. “I think Mr. Harris is expecting us. Can you let him know Angie Turner and Felicia Williams are here to see him?”

“Sure, hon. Can I get you something else to drink besides good old Snake River water?” The woman’s eyes twinkled.

“Bring us the local white zinfandel. Glass only. We’re on business.” Angie was scanning the wine list that had several options from the winery as well as other local sources. “This is a good sign. It looks like they’re used to working with other local businesses. There’s even a beer that’s brewed in northern Idaho. Did you know they grow hops there too?”

“I’m more of a domestic bottle girl.” Felicia grinned at her. “You are such a food snob. I’m kind of embarrassed that I don’t know all the stuff you do about food and beverages. You should write a blog. It would be good for the restaurant. You could spread the gospel on locally sourced food and how it’s going to save the planet.”

“You’re funny.” Angie sipped her water.

Felicia shook her head. “I’m dead serious. That’s a great social media angle for The County Seat!”

“I heard you two were out here.” A man approached their table. He leaned down and kissed Angie on the cheek. “It’s so nice to see you again. We were all so saddened by the passing of your grandmother. The winery sent flowers, but you probably already knew that.”

“Mr. Harris?” Felicia held out her hand. “I’m Felicia Williams and apparently you already know our chef/owner, Angie Turner.”

“Ms. Williams, so nice to meet you. Call me Rob.” He turned toward Angie and put a hand on her shoulder. “Of course I know Angie. She broke my heart at the senior prom.”