When Rafe and I had discussed Ian as a possible murder suspect, Rafe had repeatedly said there was no way Ian could have killed anyone, because he was such a good guy. Later, I’d asked for proof on which that claim was based, but the best he’d come up with was, during the annual Chilson summer softball tournament, that Ian always volunteered to bring the meat for the pig roast, which I didn’t see as definitive proof of innocence.

“Good, thanks. How about you?”

“Fine.” He handed his credit card to the cashier. “Has Kristen had her baby?”

“Not yet. Say,” I said, because he’d been handed his bag of food and was turning away. “I’m sorry about the other day. On the phone. I didn’t mean to upset you, talking about Pug Mattock.”

He briefly stood still, then turned back to me. “What you were saying. That a neighbor had seen me,” he said, speaking quietly. “I, um . . . well . . . you, um, caught me off guard, is all. Being a murder, it just . . .” He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “Anyway, I felt bad, later, that I’d lied. Because I did stop at the Mattocks’ place. But I didn’t have anything to do with his death.”

I shut my mouth, which had started to hang open, then said, “That’s good. I mean, I’m glad. But just out of curiosity, what were you doing there?”

“Oh. Well.” He rearranged his hold on his bag of food. “We were just talking about . . . he was interested in buying . . . in buying some shares from the farm. Maybe setting up a delivery stop down their road.”

He nodded good-bye, and when the door had shut behind him, I returned to the booth and my half-eaten sandwich. Rafe’s was gone and he’d started eating my potato chips. “Get Ian to admit to murder and mayhem?” he asked.

“No,” I said, pulling my chips out of his reach. “But he did admit to being out at Pug’s cottage.”

Rafe blinked. “So he lied earlier?”

“Yep.” I summarized the conversation. “Only I don’t think he was telling the truth about being out there to set up a delivery stop.” I went over the conversation in my head. “What felt like the truth was Pug was interested in buying something.”

“What would it be if not a farm share?”

Something went click! in my head. “Let’s go,” I said, standing. “We need to go to the Round Table.”

“What? I just ate. And you’re not done.”

I pulled on my coat. “Bring it if you want. I need to talk to Cookie.” The twenty seconds it took him to wrap my sandwich and scarf down the remaining chips were the longest seconds ever.