Page 12 of Pumpkin Patch Peril (Brook Ridge Falls Ladies’ Detective Club #1)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The morning air was crisp with the promise of a perfect October day as the four ladies gathered around Mona’s kitchen table, coffee steaming from their mugs and yesterday’s revelations spread before them like pieces of an incomplete puzzle.
“So we all agree the plan is to visit the Knowles farm stand as jewelry customers,” Mona said, reviewing their strategy notes. “We’re interested in Ivy’s charm collection, particularly anything with wings.”
Helen nodded approvingly. “It’s the perfect cover. We’re local ladies interested in supporting local artisans. Nothing suspicious about that.”
Twenty minutes later, they were climbing into Ruth’s sedan for the drive to Knowles Organic Produce. As they pulled out of the retirement center, Ruth glanced in her rearview mirror and frowned slightly.
“Everything all right?” Helen asked from the passenger seat.
“Probably nothing,” Ruth murmured, taking a left toward Mason Road. “There’s just a dark sedan back there that seems to be heading the same direction we are.”
Ida immediately swiveled in her seat to look out the back window. “Sedan? What kind of sedan? Four doors? Two doors? License plate readable?”
“Ida, dear, you don’t need to conduct surveillance,” Mona said gently. “Ruth said it’s probably nothing.”
But Ruth was checking her mirror again, this time with more concern. “It’s still behind us after two turns. Dark blue or black, can’t tell the make from here.”
The mood in the car shifted slightly as they continued toward the Knowles farm. Ruth made another unnecessary turn down Elm Street, ostensibly to avoid construction but actually to test whether the sedan would follow. It did.
“Now that’s interesting,” Helen said quietly, watching the car maintain its distance behind them.
“Could be a coincidence,” Mona suggested, though her voice lacked conviction. “Maybe they’re also heading out to the farms.”
“Or maybe,” Ida said with obvious excitement, “we’ve stirred up more interest in this case than we realized. This could be the break we need!”
“This could be the danger we need to avoid,” Ruth corrected, taking another turn that would loop them back toward their original route. “I don’t like being followed.”
By the time they reached Mason Road, the sedan had vanished from view, leaving them to wonder whether it had been genuinely following them or whether the stress of the investigation was making them paranoid.
“Well,” Helen said as they pulled into the gravel parking area beside the Knowles farm stand, “followed or not, we’re here now.”
The farm stand looked exactly as it had when they’d visited with Tom the day before—a rustic wooden structure with hand-painted signs advertising fresh produce, herbs, and Ivy’s handmade jewelry.
A few cars were parked nearby, suggesting modest but steady business despite Ida’s statistical predictions.
As they approached the entrance, Ruth glanced back toward the road. “That dark sedan is nowhere to be seen now. Maybe I was being paranoid.”
“Or maybe whoever was following us decided to wait and watch from a distance,” Mona said, scanning the surrounding area with new wariness.
“Only one way to find out,” Helen declared, pushing open the farm stand door with the confidence of someone who’d spent decades dealing with uncertainty.
A small bell chimed their arrival, and Ivy Knowles looked up from behind a display of late-season tomatoes with a genuinely welcoming smile.
“Good morning, ladies! Back for more of our produce?” She was wearing a flowered apron over jeans and a sweater, her graying hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. Everything about her suggested honest, hardworking farm life.
“Actually,” Mona said, returning the smile, “we were hoping to look at your jewelry collection. We saw your totes last time, but we heard that you also make the most beautiful nature-themed charms.”
Ivy’s face lit up with obvious pride. “Oh, how wonderful! I love meeting people who appreciate handmade pieces. Let me show you what I have.”
She led them to the back of the room, where silver charms hung from tiny hooks. There were leaves in various shapes, flowers, birds, butterflies, and yes—several bee charms with delicately crafted wings.
“These are exquisite,” Helen said, examining a charm shaped like an oak leaf. “You make all of these yourself?”
“Every single one,” Ivy confirmed. “I’ve been working with silver for nearly fifteen years now. It started as a hobby, but people seemed to like what I was making, so Tom encouraged me to start selling them.”
Ruth was studying the bee charms with particular interest. “These little bees are adorable. Are the wings attached permanently?”
“Actually, no,” Ivy said, lifting one of the bee charms from its hook. “See? The wings are on tiny hinges. They move just like real bee wings would. It was Tom’s idea—he said static jewelry was boring, that nature is all about movement.”
She demonstrated gently moving the wings back and forth. It was exactly like the wing they’d found in Brenda’s barn.
“How clever!” Ida exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “I bet lots of people buy these. Do you keep track of who purchases which designs?”
Ivy’s smile became slightly apologetic. “Oh, I’m afraid I’m terrible at record-keeping.
Tom’s always telling me I should track inventory better, but I just make what inspires me and sell what people want.
I couldn’t tell you who bought what, when they bought it, or even how many of each design I’ve sold. ”
“So if someone lost one of your bee wings,” Helen pressed gently, “there wouldn’t be any way to trace it back to the original buyer?”
“Not really, no,” Ivy admitted. “Though I have made quite a few of the bee charms. They’re very popular—I’d guess I’ve made dozens over the past year alone. The moving parts seem to fascinate people.”
Mona was examining other charms in the case, mentally cataloging the various nature themes, when the farm stand door opened with another cheerful chime. Tom Knowles entered, but his expression was far from cheerful when he saw the four ladies clustered around his wife’s jewelry display.
“Ladies,” he said with barely concealed suspicion. “Back again so soon?”
“They’re interested in my jewelry,” Ivy said brightly, apparently oblivious to her husband’s tone. “Isn’t that wonderful? I was just showing them the bee charms with the movable wings.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed as he looked from his wife’s display to the four women examining it. “Jewelry customers, are you? And yesterday you were what—pumpkin farming consultants?”
The atmosphere at the small farm stand grew noticeably tenser. Ruth straightened, Helen lifted her chin with dignity, and even Ida stopped examining the charms to look at Tom with surprise.
“We’re interested in supporting local artisans,” Mona said evenly, refusing to be intimidated. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong,” Tom said, moving closer to the jewelry display, “is that you’re not here to buy jewelry any more than you were here yesterday to learn about organic farming. You’re here because you think I stole Brenda Mossberry’s pumpkin, and you’re looking for evidence.”
Ivy looked confused, glancing between her husband and the four ladies. “Tom, honey, what are you talking about? These women seem very nice.”
“Nice women who are conducting some kind of amateur investigation,” Tom said grimly. “Nice women who are wasting our time with fake interest in our products.”
“Now see here,” Helen began, drawing herself up to her full height with the authority of someone who’d spent decades managing difficult people.
“No, you see here,” Tom interrupted. “If you’re not here to actually purchase anything, maybe you can be on your way. We have a business to run.”
The dismissal hung in the air like smoke from a snuffed candle. Ivy looked embarrassed, the ladies looked offended, and Tom looked like a man who’d reached the end of his patience.
“Well!” Ruth huffed, gathering her purse with obvious indignation.
“Come on, ladies,” Mona said with as much dignity as she could muster. “I think we’ve learned what we came to learn.”
They filed out of the farm stand with their heads high but their pride slightly bruised, Tom’s suspicious glare following them all the way to the parking area.
Once they were safely in Ruth’s car with the doors closed, the pretense of dignity gave way to excited whispers.
“Did you see how defensive he got?” Helen whispered.
“And how quickly he figured out why we were really there?” Ida added.
“The man’s hiding something,” Ruth declared, starting the engine. “And I intend to find out what.”
But instead of pulling out of the parking area immediately, Ruth sat with the engine idling, staring thoughtfully toward the Knowles property.
“What are you thinking?” Mona asked.
“I’m thinking,” Ruth said slowly, “that if Tom Knowles did steal that pumpkin, the evidence might not be in his house or his barn. It might be somewhere else on the property.”
“You mean like in a field or storage building?” Helen asked.
“Exactly. Somewhere a casual visitor wouldn’t think to look.”
Ida was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. “Are you suggesting we conduct a reconnaissance mission?”
“I’m suggesting,” Ruth said with a grin that would have made her granddaughter proud, “that we take a little drive around the perimeter of this property and see if we can spot anything interesting.”
“Like a giant pumpkin?” Mona asked.
“Like evidence that Tom Knowles has been up to something he doesn’t want his jewelry customers to know about.”
“Well,” Ruth said as they drove away from the hostile encounter, “if we’re going to get answers, we need a different approach.”
“What do you mean?” Helen asked.