can always reheat it anyway. Nothing too fancy, just chicken noodle soup and crackers. So what brings you two out today?” Sally Ann gave them a firm look that was not unfriendly, but not necessarily friendly either.
“Well, we’ve come on farm business,” Doc said. “We’re looking for a shovel that I might have left out here a few months back, when I dropped by to knock the icicles off your house. I brought it along with me from Blueberry Acres. It had the initials
B.A.
on the handle. Does that ring a bell?”
Sally Ann nodded and answered right away, without having to give it any thought. “Yup, I remember that,” she said. “Have you lost it again?”
“Again?” Doc echoed, surprised.
“Yeah, the shovel with the initials on the handle, right?”
“That’s the one, but . . . you’ve seen it
again
?” Doc didn’t quite understand what she meant.
“No, just the one time, when you left it here a few months ago.”
“Oh, well, that’s what we’re inquiring about,” Doc said, brightening, and he looked over at Candy and winked. “So do you know what happened to it?”
“I sent it back to your place—months ago.”
Doc’s brow furrowed. “But we never got it. Did you give it to one of us personally?”
“Well, no,” Sally Ann said. “I gave it to Ray Hutchins.” She was referring to a local handyman, who often did small jobs for Candy and Doc out at the farm. “He stopped by in April to help me take down the pen in the kitchen. He helps me with that pen every year. I keep the girls inside during the winter, you know,” she said, pointing with her chin toward the goats. “Just in the kitchen—they’re not allowed in the rest of the house. Me and Ray block off a little area for them.” She squinted. “’Course, they don’t make great house guests, and they practically eat me out of the place, and they’re noisier than a bar full of drunks, but the shed gets too cold for them in the dead of winter, and I can’t let them freeze, can I?”
“Well, no,” Candy agreed. “It makes perfect sense. We talked about your goats a year or two ago, if you recall. I wrote a story about them for the paper’s community column. We had great response to it.” Candy paused. “So you gave the shovel to Ray?” she prompted.
“That’s right. He spotted it leaning up against the house. I didn’t even notice it—I just get so busy around here. He said he was headed out to your place and he’d make sure it got back to you.” She eyed the both of them. “And since you’re here looking for it, I guess I can assume that didn’t happen.”
“Unfortunately, no, it didn’t,” Doc said. “I wish it had, though.”
“Then Ray’s still got it,” Sally Ann assured him. “He must have just forgotten he had it—though that’s not like him. He’s usually pretty careful about things like that. He’s as honest as the day is long, you know. That’s why I like him. It’s just a mix-up. Give him a call, and you’ll get to the bottom of this in a jiffy.”
TWELVE
“So,” Candy said when they were back out in the Jeep, “the plot thickens.” She turned toward her father, a contemplative look on her face. “What’s the likelihood Ray killed Miles Crawford with that shovel?”
“Zero. Zilch,” Doc said, scoffing at the very idea of it. “You know as well as I do that’s just not possible. We went through this once before with him. He’s just not capable of such a thing. Ray’s a gentle sort.”
Candy nodded and reached for the phone in her back pocket. “I agree completely,” she said as she swiped the screen and poked at it, looking for Ray’s number. “But Sally Ann’s right about one thing— Ray’s usually a pretty conscientious person. He wouldn’t just forget to return the shovel to us. Something must have happened to it between Sally Ann’s place and Blueberry Acres. And whatever it was, Ray’s the only one who knows.”
It took three rings but Ray Hutchins
“Well, we’ve come on farm business,” Doc said. “We’re looking for a shovel that I might have left out here a few months back, when I dropped by to knock the icicles off your house. I brought it along with me from Blueberry Acres. It had the initials
B.A.
on the handle. Does that ring a bell?”
Sally Ann nodded and answered right away, without having to give it any thought. “Yup, I remember that,” she said. “Have you lost it again?”
“Again?” Doc echoed, surprised.
“Yeah, the shovel with the initials on the handle, right?”
“That’s the one, but . . . you’ve seen it
again
?” Doc didn’t quite understand what she meant.
“No, just the one time, when you left it here a few months ago.”
“Oh, well, that’s what we’re inquiring about,” Doc said, brightening, and he looked over at Candy and winked. “So do you know what happened to it?”
“I sent it back to your place—months ago.”
Doc’s brow furrowed. “But we never got it. Did you give it to one of us personally?”
“Well, no,” Sally Ann said. “I gave it to Ray Hutchins.” She was referring to a local handyman, who often did small jobs for Candy and Doc out at the farm. “He stopped by in April to help me take down the pen in the kitchen. He helps me with that pen every year. I keep the girls inside during the winter, you know,” she said, pointing with her chin toward the goats. “Just in the kitchen—they’re not allowed in the rest of the house. Me and Ray block off a little area for them.” She squinted. “’Course, they don’t make great house guests, and they practically eat me out of the place, and they’re noisier than a bar full of drunks, but the shed gets too cold for them in the dead of winter, and I can’t let them freeze, can I?”
“Well, no,” Candy agreed. “It makes perfect sense. We talked about your goats a year or two ago, if you recall. I wrote a story about them for the paper’s community column. We had great response to it.” Candy paused. “So you gave the shovel to Ray?” she prompted.
“That’s right. He spotted it leaning up against the house. I didn’t even notice it—I just get so busy around here. He said he was headed out to your place and he’d make sure it got back to you.” She eyed the both of them. “And since you’re here looking for it, I guess I can assume that didn’t happen.”
“Unfortunately, no, it didn’t,” Doc said. “I wish it had, though.”
“Then Ray’s still got it,” Sally Ann assured him. “He must have just forgotten he had it—though that’s not like him. He’s usually pretty careful about things like that. He’s as honest as the day is long, you know. That’s why I like him. It’s just a mix-up. Give him a call, and you’ll get to the bottom of this in a jiffy.”
TWELVE
“So,” Candy said when they were back out in the Jeep, “the plot thickens.” She turned toward her father, a contemplative look on her face. “What’s the likelihood Ray killed Miles Crawford with that shovel?”
“Zero. Zilch,” Doc said, scoffing at the very idea of it. “You know as well as I do that’s just not possible. We went through this once before with him. He’s just not capable of such a thing. Ray’s a gentle sort.”
Candy nodded and reached for the phone in her back pocket. “I agree completely,” she said as she swiped the screen and poked at it, looking for Ray’s number. “But Sally Ann’s right about one thing— Ray’s usually a pretty conscientious person. He wouldn’t just forget to return the shovel to us. Something must have happened to it between Sally Ann’s place and Blueberry Acres. And whatever it was, Ray’s the only one who knows.”
It took three rings but Ray Hutchins
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