—Henny Penny Farmette Almanac Abby steered her Jeep away from the lodge toward Main Street. She had left Philippe a note telling him they would meet at noon. She couldn’t remember when she had felt so exhausted, and only hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel while driving back to the farmette. Even her eyeballs hurt. According to her watch, it was 4:45 a.m., nearly the hour of early morning when Jean-Louis died. Although she was tired, Abby’s instincts told her to drive by the back of the pastry shop, see what it looked like at this early hour, determine how well it could be seen in the glow of streetlamps and neighborhood porch lights, and see who might be roaming about. Pulling the Jeep into a parking space under a dense magnolia tree shading the back side of Lemon Lane, Abby parked, flipped off the headlights, and fought the urge to nod off. She stared at the pastry shop. Nothing obstructed her view of its back door, the theater exit, the Black Witch Bar’s rear entry, and the Dumpster.
