A Puzzling Plot in Hillbilly Hollow Read online

  A Puzzling Plot in Hillbilly Hollow

  Blythe Baker

  Copyright © 2019 by Blythe Baker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Description

  Newsletter Invitation

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  Ghosts are stirring in Hillbilly Hollow...

  Emma thought her biggest challenges this spring would be juggling plans for her best friend’s baby shower while making arrangements for her own upcoming wedding.

  But that was before Grandma Hooper’s nighttime singing took a dangerous turn and trouble began brewing with nasty neighbors.

  When an old barn owl becomes a silent witness to the murder of a farmhand on the Hooper’s property, it’s up to Emma to get justice for the victim’s persistent ghost. Can Emma clear her grandma of a terrible crime? Or will the case closest to Emma’s heart be the one she’s doomed never to solve?

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  1

  I stretched and then cringed as my back cracked loudly. It was late, already after one o’clock in the morning, but I knew I was on a roll with this latest design and I didn’t want to stop while it was all coming together.

  Snowball bleated softly as my stretch disturbed her place lying across my feet.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  The little white goat didn’t make any more sound, seemingly having fallen back asleep. That was alright for some, I thought to myself. Not all of us could shut down for the night.

  As I clicked around on my laptop, swapping and changing some shades for better ones on the graphic design project I was fiddling with, I said a silent thank you that it was May now. With the warmer weather rolling in, there was no longer any need for me to be up at the crack of dawn to get the old wood burning stove loaded. I would still have to rise pretty early to get through my chores on the farm, but at least it wouldn’t still be dark. The lack of frost on the ground in the morning would be a welcome bonus too.

  Even my grandparents were now in a position where they could sleep in, although their idea of sleeping in meant getting up at around five, rather than four. My grandpa’s arthritis had been playing up more than ever over the winter, and consequently, he had hired Daniel Fisher, a local man, as a farmhand. Daniel and his wife Evelyn had moved their trailer onto a patch of land at the back of our house a few months earlier, and Daniel had taken over all of the heavy lifting jobs and a few of the early morning chores.

  Yawning, I thought what a relief it was that my grandparents had hired some help after all these years and actually had a chance to enjoy a more relaxed lifestyle. Maybe I could take it a little easier myself, just for tonight.

  With a tired sigh, I saved my work and shut down my laptop. I knew I wasn’t going to get anything more done anyway. Not now that I was too sleepy to think straight.

  I put my laptop away, flicked off the light, and snuggled down in bed. I closed my eyes and fell asleep quicker than I had expected.

  I started awake and, for a moment, didn’t know where I was or what had awakened me. I soon realized I was at home in bed. It was just after two. I hadn’t even been asleep for an hour. I lay still in the dark, listening, trying to work out what had startled me out of my sleep.

  Then I heard it again. A loud banging sound coming from the roof.

  Dang it, I thought, jumping up out of bed and pulling my robe on.

  Grandma must have been having another one of what Grandpa called her “funny turns”.

  During those times, Grandma liked to climb up onto the roof of the house or the top of the chicken coop. Sometimes she would sing at the moon. Other times, she would sing to the chickens. No matter how much I tried to persuade my grandpa to talk to Grandma about it and take her to a doctor, he refused. He said it would only upset her and what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. I wasn’t so sure that was true, but arguing with Grandpa was a waste of time. He took stubborn to a whole new level.

  I rushed down the stairs now, through the kitchen, and out into the backyard.

  Outside, I instantly saw that Grandma was down safely off the roof. She was over by the chicken coop, Grandpa at her side. The banging I had heard must have been Grandpa clambering up onto the roof to get her down, a thought I didn’t like at all now that his hips where constantly playing up.

  Before I closed the distance between myself and my grandparents, my grandpa managed to get my grandma turned around and headed back towards the kitchen door. She was still humming to herself as they came my way. Her eyes were glazed, as if she was in a different world.

  I felt a shiver go through me. Partly because of the crazed look on Grandma’s face and partly because of the chill in the wind that blew across the yard, making my robe billow out behind me and flattening my pajamas to my body. I pulled the robe tighter, crossing my arms to keep it in place.

  “I’m going to make some cocoa. Do you both want some?” I asked as my grandparents got close enough to hear me.

  “That’ll be fine, dear,” my grandpa said. “Just for me and you, though. Your grandma will settle down once I get her back into bed.”

  Still humming, Grandma allowed herself to be led back into the house.

  I followed behind and put the kettle on. By the time the cocoa was ready, Grandpa was back in the kitchen.

  I sat down at the table, wrapping my hands around my mug. He did the same.

  “It’s happening more often,” I said.

  “That it is,” Grandpa agreed.

  He took a long sip of his hot chocolate.

  “We need to take her to the doctor, Grandpa,” I said gently for the thousandth time. “If you don’t want to be the one to tell her, I can do it.”

  Grandpa was shaking his head before I even got my full sentence out.

  “We’ve been through this, Emma,” he said.

  “I know,” I replied. “And you said if it got worse, we’d talk about it again. And it has gotten worse. You know it and I know it.”

  “It’s not so bad that I can’t cope with it. And it’s not bothering her while she doesn’t know. Telling her would really upset her.”

  Upsetting Grandma and Grandpa was the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t see any other way out of this.

  I said, “I know. And I hate that. I do. But your arthritis is bothering you. What happens if your hip goes while you’re on your way up onto the roof?”

  Grandpa laughed. “It’ll take more than a sore hip to stop me, Emma. You know that.”

  “But it’s not doing you any good clambering around on the roof in the middle of the night,” I protested.

  “Most times I catch her long before she gets up there,” he said.

  That caught my attention. It meant the problem was even worse than I’d suspected. How many times was it happening without Grandma getting far enough for me to even be aware of it?

  I opened my mouth to ask Grandpa that question, but he raised hi
s hand and I stopped.

  “I don’t want to hear any more of this, Emma. I understand you’re worried, and I appreciate your concern. But you need to realize that I’ve got this under control.”

  “Have you, though?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  Darn it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean it to come out like a criticism. I just think…”

  “Enough,” Grandpa said. His tone left no room for argument. “There’ll be no more talk about this.”

  I sighed and sipped some of my cocoa, letting the silence around us fall into a more comfortable place, before I spoke again.

  “I understand why you want to deal with this alone. But you have to understand where I’m coming from, too. I worry about you and Grandma. If you won’t take her to the doctor, then at least meet me halfway.”

  “Billy is still a doctor,” Grandpa said.

  I knew that. Billy was my fiancé. Of course I knew he was a doctor. Then I realized what Grandpa meant. Whenever we had this talk, I would try to get my grandpa to at least let Billy take a look at Grandma, off the record. He must have thought that was the compromise I was looking for now.

  “I don’t mean we should talk to Billy, although I still say that would be a good idea,” I said.

  “Well, what were you suggesting then?” Grandpa asked, ignoring the rest.

  “When it happens again, at least shout for me, okay? I can get up onto the roof quicker than you can.”

  I knew that wouldn’t be enough to persuade him. If he thought I was only concerned for him, he would never go for it. It was time to play my ace.

  “The more time Grandma spends on the roof in a nightgown, the more likely she is to develop a flu or chest infection,” I said. “And none of us want that.”

  “Fine,” Grandpa relented. “I’ll call for you, if it happens again.”

  He used the word if, but we both knew he meant when.

  2

  After the cocoa and a few more hours of fitful sleep, I rose early, dressed, and started on my chores. I walked across the yard towards the fields, the bucket of pig swill in my hand swinging by my side, occasionally bumping my leg.

  On my other side, Snowball ambled along beside me, curious at everything around her, even though she had seen it all a hundred times. It made me smile to watch her gambolling around, poking her nose into every plant, every weed. She splashed through a puddle and looked absolutely delighted with herself as brown tinged water splashed up her white legs.

  “Grandma won’t be happy if you get mud all over the house,” I said to her.

  She bleated at me in response and I shook my head and smiled. Who was I kidding? Snowball had eaten part of Grandma’s favourite tea towel, half a tea cozy, and a full sock already today and Grandma had easily forgiven her. The mud would be dismissed just as easily, I knew.

  To get to the pig pen, I had to pass by the Fishers’ trailer. I decided to knock on their door on the way past and see if they were okay. They were now the closest thing we had to near neighbours, and they didn’t seem to have a lot of friends visiting. I thought it might be nice to get to know them a little bit more.

  I changed course slightly and approached the trailer. It wasn’t anything fancy. Despite its size, it was an old model and looked like it could use some work. Certainly a good wash down. If I wasn’t so busy with my farm chores and my freelance designing work, not to mention helping out where I could with my heavily pregnant friend Suzy, I would have offered to help Evelyn Fisher power wash the trailer.

  As I got closer, I began to hear sounds of an argument from inside, raised male and female voices leaking through a partially open window.

  “You’re so tight! You won’t spend a single penny more than you think you have to!” the woman shouted.

  “That’s not being tight, it’s common sense,” the man shot back. “Why do you always want to waste money?”

  “It’s not wasting money to buy new bedding, Daniel. It’s not like I want luxury Egyptian cotton! I just want a duvet cover that’s more cover than hole.”

  “Nonsense. It’s almost summer and then we won’t need the duvet anyway.”

  I changed course and walked away, hoping neither Daniel or Evelyn Fisher had spotted me through the window. I didn’t think they had. They seemed pretty focused on their disagreement, and besides, the ratty curtains where still pulled mostly closed.

  Daniel and Evelyn argued a lot. Usually about money, but it seemed that they didn’t always need a reason. They could argue over which way was north, and even if they were both wrong, each would continue to insist they were right until the argument moved on to a different topic.

  I couldn’t help but think of Billy, as I scurried out of sight of the trailer. He would never talk to me the way Daniel talked to Evelyn, and I would never gripe at him the way she griped at Daniel.

  I shook my head, reminding myself their argument, their life together, was none of my business. Instead of judging them, I should just take a moment to be thankful that I had Billy and that we didn’t spend all of our time together shrieking at one another.

  “Nothing stranger than people, huh, Snowball,” I commented.

  The look she gave me in response told me she agreed.

  When I reached the pigpen, the three pigs came to greet me eagerly, but I was under no illusions. It wasn’t because they were particularly pleased to see me; it was because they could smell their food.

  I climbed over the fence and Snowball bleated in alarm, her front legs propped up on the bottom slat.

  “Relax. I’m coming back,” I said.

  As soon as I dumped the swill into the trough, the three pigs lined up and tucked in. I spent a few minutes enjoying the fresh air, scratching behind the ears of each pig. One of them waddled forward a bit, positioning herself so that my hand was on her back. I laughed and scratched her.

  “You’re itchy, huh?” I commented.

  She stood in place while I scratched long enough to ease her itch and then she wandered away and lay down contentedly in her straw.

  When I climbed back out of the pigpen, Snowball gently butted her head against my legs. I laughed and reached down to tickle her underneath the chin.

  “There’s no need to be jealous, Snowball, you’re still my number one,” I said.

  From the day I had returned to Hillbilly Hollow and the farm, Snowball had attached herself to me. She followed me around the pastures and the house like a dog. I even had to let her into my attic bedroom every night, or the bleating was so loud no one would get any sleep.

  It was strange at first, having a goat as a pet, but now, I wouldn’t be without her. She was like my shadow, and she really was a joy to be around. She was super friendly and she craved constant attention from me. She always got jealous when I petted the other animals and I often reminded her she was my favorite.

  “Well, it’s time to feed the chickens now,” I said to her. “They run away from me, so at least you won’t have to be jealous of them.”

  I turned and we headed back the way we had come. I needed to go to the barn so I could rinse out the swill bucket and collect some chickenfeed.

  Even though I reminded myself once more that it was none of my business, I couldn’t help but notice that Evelyn and Daniel were still arguing. They’d moved on to talk of the best way to grow tomatoes, of all things. I guessed that was what came of being crammed together in tight quarters for so long; they had gotten to the point where nothing was off the table when they were already irritated with each other. But seriously? Tomato growing?

  As I passed by, the trailer door was flung open and Daniel stepped out, slamming the door hard behind him. His usually reddish complexion, sunburnt by work in the sun, looked even redder than normal today, probably because his temper was high. But when he spotted me walking by the side of the trailer, his tall frame straightened a little, and he ran a big hand through his shaggy dark hair, as if to smooth away his troubles
.

  As he nodded amiably, I said a silent thank you that I was just passing and he hadn’t caught me actively snooping. He gave me a self-conscious grin, his smile lighting his face up and making him look younger than he was.

  “Nice morning,” I said, carefully avoiding mention of the argument.

  “Sure is,” Daniel agreed. “And nice way of not telling me you heard any of that.”

  He nodded his head back towards the trailer.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought so,” I agreed.

  “She’s exhausting at times, but she’s a diamond really,” Daniel said with surprising cheerfulness, falling into step beside me. “Only don’t tell her I called her a diamond. She’d only want to be a ruby or something.”

  “I won’t, scout’s honor,” I promised him.

  He laughed and shook his head.

  We walked a bit further, a comfortable quiet falling between us, broken only by Snowball’s occasional excited bleat as she found a particularly tasty looking morsel on the ground.

  Daniel finally broke the silence. “Well, here’s where we part ways. I’m off to fix the gate on the cow field again. Your grandpa said it never stays fixed for long.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t,” I agreed. “Honestly, those cows are so destructive and they seem to instinctively know just where to work on the gate to find the weak spot.”

  We parted company and I was soon at the barn.

  As I stepped from the light of the watery sunshine into the gloomy building, I saw something white coming towards my head. I put my arms up and gave a low shriek. Then, when I realized what it was, I laughed at myself and shook my head. I needed to relax, it seemed. I blamed it on being tired.