The more he grabbed, the more he slipped, until he went down again next to Walter, the ducks covering them both.
And that was when a loud whistle broke through the fray.
Even the ducks got quieter as we all turned to find Sheriff Crowe, fingers still in her mouth, standing with Deputy Pike.
Her expression was impassive as she studied the scene. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Harold Pembroke, Walter.” She turned her resigned gaze on me. “I thought I told you to leave the detective work to me?”
“Her listening skills need work,” Dane growled, rising carefully to his feet.
“But she has a lot of other amazing qualities,” Beck said.
“Yeah,” Noah agreed, looking down at me with a smile. “Tons.”
48
AVERY
I usedthe spade Noah gave me to dig a hole in the flower bed near the gazebo, reached for one of the yellow marigolds sitting on the ground, and placed one of the plants into the freshly dug hole.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” I said, sitting back on my heels to study my handiwork.
Noah looked over from his own planting, his green eyes warm. “You’re already a pro.”
I laughed. It wasn’t hard, but I’d found that working with my hands was surprisingly rewarding.
“How are you at painting?” Dane asked from the ladder where he was brushing crisp white paint onto the gazebo’s trim.
We’d all decided it was in need of a clean slate after what has happened to Harold, but paint was the last thing on my mind when I looked at Dane’s inked arms stroking paint onto the gazebo.
Being around Beck, Noah, and Dane meant existing in a constant state of arousal but I wasn’t mad about it.
“I’ve wielded a paint brush or two in my time,” I said.
“I’ll try you on a trial basis.” Dane didn’t look away from his work, but I heard the warmth in his voice, knew it was meant for me. “See how it goes.”
“I accept those terms.” I dug another hole. “Think we’ll ever figure out what Harold was doing here that day?”
It was something we’d talked about more than once in the two weeks since Sheriff Crowe arrested Walter at the duck farm. We knew why Harold had been at Finch Farm: he’d been scoping it out for the future Hearthstone Links Golf Club, looking for ways to claim Walter’s land for Hearthstone under eminent domain.
Walter had discovered Harold’s double-dealing and followed him to Evelyn’s property, and the cherub statue in the orchard had been seized by Sheriff Crowe’s department as evidence in the murder of Harold Pembroke.
But we still didn’t know why Harold had beenhere. We also didn’t know who’d been following me around town, but it definitely hadn’t been Walter.
“Probably not,” Noah said, using one muscled forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “It’s not like Harold’s talking.”
Dane barked out a wry burst of laughter from his spot on the ladder.
It all left me feeling more than a little unsettled. Not just because it was impolite to laugh at a dead guy but because Harold had been working with Hearthstone, and Hearthstone was still very much determined to build in Blackwell Hollow.
I sighed. “I just wish we knew.”
Noah glanced over at me. “I hope for all our sakes you let that one go, sweetheart. I’m not looking to see you get into any trouble again.”
“Or smell you getting into any trouble again,” Dane said, referring to the mud and duck poop that had taken three washings to get out of my hair.
“Haha,” I said. “You didn’t smell so great either you know.”
“You weren’t complaining in the shower, baby girl.”