Murder Most Wholesome

by Staci McLaughlin

  She stopped before a small cluster of flowers inside a stone circle. “What do you see here?”

  I felt like I was back in school and the teacher was waiting for answers to a test I hadn’t studied for. “Flowers?”

  A slight shake of Millie’s head indicated that I’d failed the test. She touched the petal of a large purple flower I didn’t recognize. “And what do flowers represent?”

  Not sure what she was looking for, I opted for multiple answers. “Nature? Life? Beauty?” One was bound to be correct.

  This time, Millie nodded. “Right you are. All three. When I first joined the commune, almost thirty years ago, that’s all anyone ever wanted. To embrace nature and live off the land. Of course we would occasionally sell our products to nearby farms and even a few shops in town, but we could take pride in our work. These were foods and goods that we crafted with our own hands.” She held up her hands. Though they were gnarled and bony, they were obviously still strong. “We could see that people appreciated the fruits of our labor. Even when we moved to filling mail orders, there was still a personal touch. I could almost imagine the customers opening their boxes and smiling with joy as they took out ajar of honey that came from our bees.” Her voice had been soft, almost musical as she spoke. Now a sharp edge cut through her next words. “Now these damn computers are here.”

  I’d grown up with computers and the Internet, and I’d always seen both as a convenient tool, a way to communicate and gather information faster than ever before. Still, I’d come across this attitude before and was ready to counter. “Won’t computers make your job easier?” I asked. “You can fill more orders, keep track of shipments and payments, and have customer information all in one place.”

  Millie snapped her head around and gave me a look that made my insides wilt like the farm’s lettuce at high summer noon. “We could do that before. These machines are too impersonal. You get no sense of who is placing the orders. I might as well work in a factory and spend my days in front of a conveyor belt.”

  “But having an online presence will increase your sales,” I argued. “People from all over can order your jams and jellies. With the proper advertising, you can reach an entirely new set of customers. I can tell you from personal experience that having a Web site for Esther’s farm has been invaluable. I doubt the farm would still be in business without our online advertising, not to mention our reservation system. People want things easy and fast these days. The commune could benefit from that.”

  Millie grimaced. “You sound like Ryan. I don’t care about money. I care about a peaceful coexistence with nature without all this computer mumbo jumbo.”

  I watched a bee land on a nearby blossom. Perhaps it would collect pollen to take back to the hive. Or it might sting one of us. You never knew. “I’m not saying you should strip the land and dam up the streams. But I’ve heard about the money troubles at the commune, and the Internet could help rescue the place.”

  Millie crossed her arms, and her expression turned dark. “I knew Ryan was spreading rumors around town, but things aren’t nearly as dire as he wants everyone to believe. Admittedly Frank made a few mistakes, but he’s been keeping the books for years, and his work is usually impeccable.”

  “But you’re behind on your property taxes. The government could seize your land.”

  “How do you know about that?” She went on before I could answer. “Besides, that’s all nonsense. We have benefactors who will help us if it comes to that. I know enough people. Plus, we still bring in money at the farmers markets and selling goods to our regular customers through our catalog service. We’d have even more money if Ryan would stop pressuring everyone to upgrade our Internet service and buy a bunch of fancy new software. We need that money for groceries, electricity, and other bills.”

  She’d worked herself into such a frenzy that I could hear her panting. She paused to catch her breath.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” I said. “The financial situation of the commune is really none of my business. I just think that technology isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes it can be a lifesaver.”

  Millie waved her hand at me. “Bah. You’ve been brainwashed, like Birch was.”

  “Birch was in favor of Ryan’s ideas?” Zennia asked from behind me. She must have abandoned her bench while Millie and I were talking.

  “Does that surprise you?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. The Birch I remember was as in tune with nature as Millie here. I can’t imagine him wanting to use computers to sell his goods.”

  “You and Birch lived at the commune in the early nineties, right? That’s around the time E-commerce was only getting started. Isn’t it possible that Birch changed his mind, especially after running his own shop in Oregon?”

  “I suppose anything’s possible, but I find it hard to believe.”

  I wanted to remind Zennia that she barely knew Birch after twenty-five years, but that seemed insensitive considering the poor guy had just been murdered.

  Millie spoke up. “I didn’t want to believe it at first either, Zennia. I remembered Birch from when you two lived there, and he would have laughed if someone told him we’d be shipping our honey halfway across the world thanks to a little box with a keyboard. But Ryan has all his fancy ideas and college education. The moment Birch returned to Evergreen, Ryan started pressuring him to support his plans. He’d monopolize Birch’s time every chance he got, running the numbers and talking about these Internet companies down in San Francisco and how they’d struck it big. Before I knew it, Birch was pushing for all these changes, too.”

  “What did everyone else have to say?” I asked. “Birch and Ryan didn’t run the commune alone.”

  “No, but Birch influenced the older residents, and Ryan was working on the new kids.”

  “But you’ve been there much longer than Birch. People will listen to you, too.”

  “Perhaps,” she said, but she still looked troubled. “Frank’s another long-timer that’s got a lot of pull, and I thought he was on my side. Now I’m not sure. We had a long talk last week about how we might slow Ryan down, but this morning he acted like he couldn’t remember the conversation. That’s not the first time either. Makes me wonder if Ryan’s pulled him over to his side, and Frank doesn’t have the guts to tell me.”

  “Frank doesn’t strike me as a wimp,” I said, remembering his confrontation with Detective Palmer the first time the two men met.

  “He’s usually not,” Millie agreed, “but something’s off-kilter, and I need him on my side. I’m convinced that Ryan and Birch had won over the majority and were planning a group vote. But now with Birch dead, there’s a chance Ryan won’t win.”

  I eyed Millie a little more closely. Sure, she looked like a wise grandmother who would use kind words and reason to voice her arguments, but she obviously felt the future of the commune was at stake. Was Birch dying so close to the group vote a coincidence? Or had Millie killed him so he couldn’t sway the voters?

  Chapter 20

  Zennia’s eyebrows came together. “When I was talking to Pearl at the commune, she didn’t mention any of this tension. Made it sound like Evergreen was still just this side of heaven.”

  “Pearl pays attention to her knitting and the tea she constantly brings everyone. She ignores the political side of life,” Millie said. “Speaking of Pearl, she found some old photographs that she thought you might like. They have both you and Birch in them, if I remember correctly.”

  Zennia looked down at Millie’s empty hands as if the photos might be there. “You didn’t bring them?”

  “Pearl might keep herself in the dark about any political disturbances at the commune, but she’s the resident worrier about all other things. She’s convinced the pictures won’t reach you unless she hands them over personally. She promised to keep them in a safe place until the next time she comes into town or you make it out her way.”

  “Maybe I’ll run up to Evergreen tomorrow,” Zennia said.
“I don’t have any photographs from my time at the commune, and I’d like to see them. Plus I didn’t get a chance to talk to everyone when I was there last time.”

  I didn’t even stop to think before I asked, “Can I come with you? I loved the behind-the-scenes peek when we were there, but I still don’t feel like I know what an average day on a commune is like.” Besides, didn’t Jason say he was working on a follow-up story about the place? Maybe I’d find a human-interest angle he hadn’t thought of. “If you don’t mind waiting until the afternoon, that is,” I added.

  “I’d be thrilled to have company. Think we can leave around three?” At the mention of time, Zennia glanced at her watch, and her eyes widened. “Millie, I’d better hurry up and change, or we’re going to be late.” She turned to me. “You’re welcome to join us, Dana. When Millie graced me with a surprise visit this afternoon, I called a few friends to see if they were available to meet for dinner.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass,” I said. “I still need to plan the menu for tomorrow’s meals at the farm.” Besides that, I was beat.

  A worried expression appeared on Zennia’s face. “I hope I haven’t created too much extra work for you in my absence.”

  I felt a pang of guilt at complaining in front of Zennia. She was dealing with enough, although the fact that she was having dinner with friends was a promising sign. “It’s no trouble,” I said. “In fact, I made a rather tasty tofu stir-fry for lunch today. You’d be proud of me. One of the guests even left me a tip.” A one-dollar tip, but still, I took it as recognition of my efforts.

  Zennia’s eyes sparkled. “Good for you, Dana. I knew there was a healthy cook lurking under all those cheese puffs and ice cream sundaes. Wait here a minute. I have a few recipes you might find useful.” She dashed into the house, leaving me alone with Millie.

  After the debate Millie and I had over technology’s benefits and evils, I struggled to come up with more normal conversation. “Do the people at Evergreen have family in the area?” I finally asked. What I was wondering was where people would go if they couldn’t live at the commune any longer, but I didn’t dare say that to Millie.

  She shrugged. “I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but I have several nieces and nephews nearby, plus plenty of cousins. Birch had his sister, and Frank used to have a brother, though I believe he joined his creator a while back. Ryan has relatives in the Bay Area. With any luck, he’ll leave the commune soon and go live with them.”

  I hadn’t meant to get her back on the topic of Ryan, but luckily, Zennia emerged from the house before Millie could say more. She’d changed from her housecoat into a coral-colored ankle-length dress. She handed me a small stack of index cards. “That vegetarian chili recipe on top is fast and easy. I also included a breakfast casserole recipe and a few others for you as well.” She grabbed my hand and leaned in. “I promise I’ll come back to work as soon as I feel able. This second trip to Evergreen may bring my chakras into alignment.”

  “Take as long as you need. I’ll manage.” Now why did I say that? I pulled my keys from my pocket. “Have fun at dinner.”

  I scanned the chili recipe as I walked down the driveway. Not only was it as simple as Zennia said, but it reminded me of the vegetable soup I’d made for yesterday’s lunch. Like that recipe, most of the ingredients were growing in the farm’s vegetable garden or stocked in the kitchen. And the breakfast casserole looked almost easier than scrambling eggs.

  With a sense of relief at knowing what meals I needed to cook, I got in my car and drove home. I was in such a good mood that I didn’t even mind that Ashlee had parked over the line, leaving me to squeeze out of my car. Someday she’d learn how to park. And drive, for that matter.

  Humming to myself, I climbed the outside stairs and opened the door to the apartment. I immediately clapped my hands over my ears at the noise coming from the television.

  Ashlee lowered the volume when she saw me. “Hey, sis, what’s up?”

  I lowered my hands, marveling that she wasn’t deaf by now. “The usual,” I said. I slipped off my shoes and placed them in the coat closet before shrugging out of my jacket. “Got any plans tonight?”

  “Brittany’s coming over. It’s maintenance night,” she said in a tone that implied I should know exactly what that meant, which, of course, I didn’t.

  “Remind me again what maintenance night is?”

  She sighed. “I’m going to deep-condition my hair, redo my manicure, and exfoliate, all those extra details that I need to do to keep myself in shape. Making guys notice me doesn’t happen by accident, you know.” She gave me the once-over. “I’m surprised you got Jason, what with those patchy elbows.”

  I slapped my hands over my elbows. “I do not have patchy elbows.” I rubbed my elbows to make sure the skin was smooth, annoyed with myself for nibbling at her bait like a trained seal. “I don’t,” I repeated.

  “Maybe not today, but someday you’re not going to be so lucky.”

  I sat down on the couch and picked up one of Ashlee’s fashion magazines, briefly wondering if it contained an elbow exfoliation article. “I’ll start worrying about my patchy elbows when they cause holes in my long-sleeved shirts.”

  “If Jason’s still around by then.”

  “He’s not exactly dating me for my elbows,” I said.

  “You’d be surprised. It’s the little things that make or break a relationship.”

  Good grief, this conversation was going nowhere. I dropped the magazine back on the coffee table and wandered into the kitchen to see if anything was readily available to cook for dinner. I’d been so busy grocery shopping for the farm the last few days that I’d let my own food supply suffer. Luckily, a frozen meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and a brownie waited for me in the freezer.

  Five minutes later, I removed my dinner from the microwave and carried the tray and a fork over to the table. I took several bites and frowned. The fried chicken felt greasier than I remembered, and I was willing to bet these weren’t real potatoes. Funny how I’d never noticed the fake flavor before. Was cooking at the farm starting to affect my taste buds?

  I decided to text Jason while I ate to take my mind off my mediocre meal. I asked him if he needed any information while I was at the commune tomorrow afternoon, but he didn’t have any suggestions. Undeterred, I promised to report back anything of interest.

  The doorbell rang, and Ashlee answered it.

  “Hey, Ash. Hey, Dana,” Brittany said as she breezed in. She dropped her handbag on the kitchen table and started pulling out a collection of nail polish. “Ready to make yourself even hotter?” she asked Ashlee with a giggle. No matter how many times I saw Brittany, I could never get used to the giggling.

  “How’s it going, Brittany?” I asked.

  “Awesome. Are you going to join us for maintenance night?” she asked.

  Ashlee went through the bottles of polish. “I asked, but she said she’s fine the way she is. No one ever kept a man that way.”

  Brittany openly studied me. “She doesn’t look too bad. It’s good to have confidence in yourself.”

  “Exactly,” I said, not entirely sure if Brittany was complimenting me or not.

  “Whatever.” Ashlee set down the bottle of polish she’d been holding. “I’m just cranky because of that speeding ticket I got today.”

  “Could have been worse,” Brittany said. “He could have seen you run that stop sign.” She giggled again.

  They moved over to the couch while I went to my room to read. After a couple of hours, my eyes started closing against my will, and I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over. I marked my place and switched off the light, already looking forward to my visit to the commune. I didn’t know what might happen out there, but I had a feeling something would.

  * * *

  The next morning, I swung by the Meat and Potatoes market on my way to work, surprised at how familiar I was becoming with the vegetable aisle. The early mor
ning produce clerk had even started addressing me by name.

  Once my shopping was finished, I drove out to the farm, where I assembled the breakfast casserole and popped it in the oven. The timer dinged as the first diners sat down, and I was soon knee-deep in serving duties. Afterward, I cleared the dining room tables, put away the leftover food, and tackled the dishes. As I was wiping down the kitchen table, Gordon walked in, dressed in his usual suit and tie. His dark hair was slicked back and gleaming in the light.

  He scanned the kitchen. “You seem to be getting more efficient with your cooking assignment while Zennia is away. Excellent work.”

  “Thanks.” I pointed to the counter. “That still needs to be wiped down if you’d like to help.”

  His face remained impassive. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt your system. I came in to ask if you’d care to be involved in a taste test.”

  I paused in my wiping. “What kind? Wine? Chocolate?”

  “Of course not wine. I prefer the employees not drink during work hours,” he said with a pointed look, as if I kept a bottle of whiskey hidden away in a cupboard. “It’s organic jam. I’m meeting a gentleman shortly who’s interested in partnering with us. We would sell his jams and a few other products in the front lobby, and he’ll give us a small cut of the proceeds. One more endeavor to keep this place afloat.”

  I straightened up. “Is the farm in trouble? I thought we were doing okay these last few months.”

  “We are, but every dollar counts when you’re running a place this small, and I’d like to bolster our savings account for the leaner times of the year.” He adjusted his watch. “Still, I’m not willing to compromise our reputation by peddling subpar goods, which is why I need help with the taste test.”

  “Sure, I’ll help. Let me know when he gets here.”

  Gordon left me in the kitchen, and I got started on the counter. When I’d wiped up every last crumb, I stepped into the hall, intending to catch up on the farm’s blog in the office. Before I could get there, however, Gordon appeared at the other end of the hall and gestured for me to join him.