Head down, I finished my salad. When I looked up again, the beer hall was a hell of a lot busier than it had been when we walked in, and several folks were staring over at Gabe and whispering.
“Does Josh need to worry?” Logan’s words floated on the air, making me perk up.
Gabe rolled his eyes at me. He knew me well enough to know I’d been in my own world. “The lawyers say no,” he said softly. “But there are some… complications. We’re all trying our best to do this by the book.”
“And Sugar Moon?” Logan asked.
“Lawyered up and they’re not speaking to anyone. Or cooperating. Louisa has been on a rampage sinceNolan arrested her.”
“But they let her go,” I argued.
“Yeah, but the woman has reach. She’s the CEO of one of the largest maple syrup producers in the world, and she hasn’t taken kindly to being perp-walked through the Founder’s Festival.”
That may have been how the Founder’s Festival ended, but the events leading up to it had started back in April. At the annual Maple Festival.
I’d been attending the festival since birth. Hell, I was pretty certain every citizen of Maplewood had. It had been around longer than anyone here had been alive, and it was the only good part about the dreary spring in Vermont.
When the ceremonial sap barrel had been tapped at the sugar shack on the town green during the festival, they’d discovered a body inside.
The body of Will McManus, a kid who’d done a lot of seasonal work for most farmers in town, including me, and who’d been working as a delivery driver for Sugar Moon, the syrup conglomerate in town.
And on top of that, the barrel of sap where his body had been found had come from my farm.
His death had kicked off a shitstorm in town, one full of paranoia and suspicion.
Tourism numbers were down, and all my contracts were in jeopardy.
Plus, every person in Maplewood was reeling. This was “America’s Most Charming Small Town,” after all.
I leaned back and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I got upset every time I thought about it. It was a senseless tragedy, and to add salt to the wound, much of the scrutiny had been directed at me and the farm.
“The rumors are the worst part,” I said.
“Don’t even get me started.” Gabe peered over one shoulder, then the other, then leaned in. “People have all kinds of ridiculous theories. Some crazy shit. Alien invasions, demonic possessions.”
“I was at the coffee shop the other day,” Logan added, “and Morty Fletcher was there, swearing it was Betsy Ross.”
“Can’t really blame him there. Betsy can be a real terror sometimes,” Gabe said.
Logan, who had some kind of weirdly respectful relationship with the wild fucking bear, shook his head. “None of the Maplewood wildlife were accessories to this crime.”
“Half the town thinks you did it,” Gabe said, nodding at me.
My stomach sank. This fucking town. Caleb Dunne had confessed and he’d been arrested. But no one believed it was that cut-and-dry.
The entire town, me included, had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Only half?” Logan marveled around another bite of his gross-ass veggie burger.
“The other half thinks he covered it up.”
“Efficient,” Logan remarked, still chewing.
I glared at him.
“And I’ve got people accusing me of hiding information too, saying I’ve helped Nolan tamper with evidence and threatening to recall him. Never mind that his position isn’t an elected one. But they don’t care about simple things like law or procedure.” He reached over and plucked one of Logan’s fries from his plate.
Gabe was an emotional eater. After we lost the state hockey tournament during our junior year of high school, he’d eaten an entire lasagna that my mom had frozen for an upcoming church potluck.