Free Death at the Day Lily Cafe by Wendy Sand Eckel

flew out of my hand. Bini caught it midair. It spewed foam. She handed it to me, shook the overflow from her hand, and walked away. I felt the top of my head, wondering if I’d been scratched. “Tyler?”
    â€œWell, at least there’s no hawk.” He frowned, his tanned forehead deeply furrowed. “Bini got us this far. Maybe the chickens will be out tomorrow. It’s like you said, they’re smart. They should know the difference between friend and foe.”

 
    F OURTEEN
    Once Tyler and Bini left for the day, I made a cup of tea and sat at my desk. I acknowledged the warning in my gut about Tyler’s new workmate. We’ll be okay, I thought. I’ll have to pay more attention. Maybe Bini’s expertise will help Tyler.
    No life was without chaos or disappointments, but if you had something to ground you, it was all bearable. Creating a sustainable, organic farm grounded Tyler. The Day Lily did the same for me.
    And yet Tyler was a big part of my new life. We were companions; we shared the farm, coffee, pets. And now he had someone new to accompany him. “Oof,” I said aloud, placing my hands over my stomach. I felt completely and utterly clueless about what to do. Maybe I had been taking him for granted. I’d been so focused on the café, and now I had another investigation. All I knew was I couldn’t let what we’d created slip away, no matter what, and maybe who, filled our time.
    I finished my tea and decided to look over Lori’s list. I scanned the page, but Sheriff Wilgus’s name stared back at me as if he were waving his arms around for me to pick him. But why had Lori added him to the list? Doris said the sheriff and CJ had always hated each other, so their animosity must have originated a long time ago. But what was the cause, exactly?
    I logged on to Facebook and typed Lori’s name in the search box. There must not have been a lot of Lori Fiddlers on social media, because her face popped right up. I sent her a friend request and visited her timeline to see if any of her public information would be helpful.
    I studied her list of friends, scrolling through a myriad of photos of people accompanied by family pets or in silly poses with a best friend. Nothing suspicious. Her own photos were fairly generic, too. Lots of pictures of her son, Jamie, in his uniform, graduating from the police academy, Lori’s arm around his shoulder. There was a photo of her new bedroom floor. It really was beautiful. There must be something helpful here, I thought. I propped my chin on my hand. Her profile said she’d gone to Devon County schools. I assumed Joe Wilgus had, too. His family lived in Cardigan for generations. Lori and the sheriff could easily be the same age. Had their feud started in high school?
    I sat straighter in my chair, my humming nerves telling me I stumbled onto something. I noticed my friend icon had a notification. Lori Fiddler has accepted your friend request. That was fast. I checked the clock. It was only seven. I messaged her.
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    Any chance I could stop in and see you this evening? I won’t stay long.
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    OK.
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    On my way. Btw, do you still have your high school yearbooks?
    As I drove over to Lori’s, I thought about what I was undertaking. Again. I wondered if I was making a mistake, agreeing to help Doris. Would it distract me from the farm and café? And what about Annie and her new relationship? I hadn’t seen her tonight. No eye contact.
    I was certainly a curious person. And I did love a good puzzle. But it was more than that. In Lori’s case, as in Megan’s, I felt an obligation to people who had been victimized to root out the truth. I’d questioned my motivations then, too. But one year after Megan’s killer was found guilty and sent to prison for life, Corinne Johnston, Megan’s mother, wrote me a note thanking me for discovering what happened to her daughter. Having the killer