“Really?”
“What choice do I have?” he asked, looking grim.
“I love you,” I said.
“Good thing.”
_____
We arrived at the farm just after noon. When John knocked on the door, Brad answered, giving us a beatific smile.
“Hi, Brad. Is your brother here?”
“Hi, John! Hi, Natalie! I’ll tell Zekie you’re here! He made me cupcakes today. Carrot. My favorite!”
“Who is it, Brad?” Zeke’s voice came from somewhere in the house.
“Friends,” Brad said, and my stomach twisted with guilt.
Zeke came to the door, patted his brother on the shoulder, then turned to us. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk,” John said quietly.
“Come in,” the farmer said casually.
“Alone,” John said, and something in his voice made Zeke pause. His face paled, but his voice was easy as he spoke to Brad. “I’m going to go show Natalie and John the tomatoes. Can you butter the toast when it pops up?”
“Okey dokey, Zeke!”
Zeke exited the house and led us away from it before turning to John. “What’s this about?” he asked.
John looked at me. I swallowed hard. “We know what’s in the barn,” I told him.
He digested that for a moment, and his shoulders slumped. “How?”
“I saw you down at the shore. And John was at the cove this morning.”
Zeke looked at the house and ran a hand through his hair. “I was trying to get out of it. It was the only way I could afford to take Brad out here, get him out of the city and into a small community.”
“Can we see it?” John asked.
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Of course.” We followed him down the rows of vegetables to the barn. He unlocked the padlock and opened the doors, letting out that strong, sneeze-inducing scent of black pepper—and something else. Something green.
We followed him into the barn and around a partition, and what I saw took my breath away.
Dozens of light fixtures dangled from the ceiling, and the floor of the barn was covered with rows of empty pots. What appeared to be drying racks were toward the back of the barn. It was all empty now.
“Wow. How much were you growing?”
“A lot,” he said concisely. “But as you can see, I’m out of business now.”
“Who were you working for?” John asked.
“Fred set it all up,” he said, surveying the empty barn. “I tried to stay out of it. And when I told him I was quitting, he threatened me.”
“He burned your shed down, didn’t he?” John asked.
Zeke nodded. “I think it’s his only source of income, and he’s afraid what would happen if it dried up. I’m applying for a license to grow it medically, but if that doesn’t work, I’m hoping I can make up the difference with a dairy.” He grimaced. “It’s probably too late, though.”
“What about Derek?”
“I don’t know about Derek,” he said. “I don’t think Fred is a killer, but I could be wrong.” He shook his head. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t figure out any other way to take care of Brad.” He looked haggard. “I quit as soon as I found out Derek was dealing to kids.”
“You’re sure Derek was dealing?” I asked.
“Yeah. He was hooked up with whoever was organizing everything. I had to cut him loose; he was too dangerous to have around, and I didn’t trust him. Plus, he was just a bad business.”
“He was taking Adam’s boat out,” I said. “Do you know why?”
“I think he was taking extra from the barn and selling it himself,” he said. “He didn’t have a boat of his own, so he used Adam’s. The sternman’s job was just cover for the money he was making off drugs.”
“What did he do when you fired him?”
“He threatened to blackmail me, but when I told him I knew he’d been dealing, he stopped threatening me.”
“He had a contact who was providing him money, apparently. Any idea who?”
He shook his head. “As far as I know, once I fired him, he lost his income source, except for what he got helping Fred out.”
John gave Zeke a hard look. “Do you think Fred might have killed him?”
“I doubt it,” Zeke said. “He set my shed on fire to scare me, but I think he was really scared himself. And as for Derek …” He shook his head. “It was convenient, in a way, that someone killed him, but it wasn’t me.”
I thought of Brad, and Zeke’s willingness to break the law to protect his brother. Would he kill Derek, too? I wondered.
“Any idea who did kill him?” John asked.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t me, though; I was getting out anyway.” He shook his head. “Growing the recreational stuff made enough money to keep Brad comfortable, but I just couldn’t handle the fact that children were using it. I don’t mind pot, but kids are something different.” He looked at John. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“What would happen to Brad if you went to jail?” I asked him quietly.
His face seemed to crumple a bit. “Our parents are dead. I guess … I guess he’d be a ward of the state.” He turned pale at the thought.
John sighed. “If it were up to me, I’d consider staying quiet, but I’m pretty sure Fred will turn you in.”
Zeke looked startled. “Have they arrested him yet?”
“Not yet,” John said, “but there’s a sting operation set up. The police are staking out the cove; the pick-up’s tonight, isn’t it?”
“Like I said, I don’t know.” He grimaced. “And I don’t even have information to bargain with. The only person I know is Fred.”
John sighed. “I wish I had a solution for you.”
Zeke stared back at the farmhouse. “Me too,” he said, forlornly. “I deserve to go to jail. It’s just … I can’t bear the thought of Brad being in an institution.”
“Why drugs?” I asked.
“I couldn’t figure out any other way to make it work,” he told me. “I looked at the property, and then I was having a beer down at Spurrell’s Lobster Pond, and Fred started talking to me. Said he knew a way I could pay the bills without harming anyone.” He sighed. “It seemed too good to be true, and I guess it was.”
“I’m sorry, Zeke,” I said.
“Me too,” he told me, and looked at the barn. “I wish I’d never met Fred Penney.”
“If anything happens, we’ll do our best to take care of Brad,” John told him. “Maybe he can help out at the inn, or something.”
“Won’t work,” Zeke said. “He needs too much care. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He sighed. “You know, I’ve made this mess, I’m going to have to clean it up. Let me make some arrangements for Brad, and I’ll turn myself in.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, worried for his sunny brother.
“I want to clear the air,” he said. “This has been heavy on my conscience. I just need some time to arrange things for Brad, if that’s okay with you.”
“I think we can spare the time,” John said.
“I presume you’re going to want to wait with me so I don’t tip off Fred.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to,” John said.
“Well, why don’t you come in and have a beer. Might as well enjoy my last hour of freedom.”
“Thanks,” John said. “We’ll take you up on that.”
twenty-two
The air in the kitchen felt as brittle as hard candy when the phone call came later that evening. Zeke answered, then handed the phone to John.
“What happened?” he asked the moment he picked up the phone.
I watched his face as he listened, but it was unreadable. “Where is he now?” he asked.
She spoke a bit more—it sounded like Catherine—and then he thanked her and hung up.
“Well?” I asked.
“You were right,” he said. “Fred turned up in his lobster
boat to make a pick-up.”
“What happened?”
“He got in, and got back on the boat. There was a long chase, but then …”
Something about the way he trailed off made me fearful. “What?”
“Well, he had a heart attack,” he said.
“A heart attack?”
“He lost control of the boat and it ran aground on a rock. They got on and got him off, but he’s in bad shape.”
“I knew he had a heart condition,” I said. “Charlene told me about it. The stress must have brought it on.” I looked at John. “Did they find the marijuana?”
He nodded. “They don’t know where it came from, though. At least not yet.”
“And he hasn’t said anything about Derek, either,” I guessed.
“He can’t speak,” John said. “It’s a pretty bad attack.”
I looked at them both. “Should we just let this go, maybe?”
Zeke stood up. “No,” he said, putting an arm around Brad. “I have to confess.”
“What about Brad?”
“I won’t be gone forever,” he said, “and I’ll use what money I’ve earned to find him a good place to stay till I’m back.”
“Where you going, Zeke?” The worry on Brad’s face made my heart break.
“I don’t know yet, Brad.” The farmer put a work-roughened hand on his brother’s pale one. “I may have to go away for a little while, but I’ll come back.” My stomach churned. A little while could be decades, I was guessing. “And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” John asked levelly.
Zeke nodded. “I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t take responsibility for my actions. Besides, I might be able to help them clear up this ring. Keep kids from being involved.”
“Sleep on it,” John said, surprising me.
“No,” Zeke said. “I want them to hear it from me first.” He looked at me. “I hate to ask this, but could you take Brad back to the inn with you? Just in case …”
“Of course,” I said gently. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said, his face grim. “And I’d like to get it over with.”
_____
As I settled Brad into bed, he looked at me with his trusting eyes. “When will Zeke be back?”
“Soon, I hope,” I told him. “Now, why don’t you get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow morning I’ll make blueberry muffins.”
“With sugar on top?”
“With sugar on top,” I promised, then plugged in the night light and returned to the kitchen, where Catherine was waiting with a cup of warm milk spiked with rum. John had gone with Zeke to the mainland, to be with him as he made his confession.
“You doing okay?” Catherine asked, compassion in her blue eyes.
“I guess,” I said. “I’m worried about Brad, though. If his brother goes to jail, I’d hate to see him institutionalized.”
“I’ll ask Murray to find him a good attorney,” she said. “Maybe if he gives them information to help break up this drug ring John was talking about, they’ll give him a reduced sentence.”
“I hope so,” I said, and the two of us sat and waited.
John called at just before midnight.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
“They took him into custody,” he said. “He’s doing everything he can to help out, though.”
My heart sank. “How about Fred?”
“He’s still not able to talk,” John said. “He’s in the ICU right now.”
“Poor man,” I said. I didn’t like what he’d done, but I still hoped he’d recover.
John sighed. “This whole thing has turned into a giant mess. And we still don’t know who killed Derek.”
After all the excitement of the day, I’d almost forgotten about Tania’s issue. “Zeke didn’t think Fred would kill Derek.”
“Nope, and he’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
“They checked on his alibi. Evidently he was in a bar in Bar Harbor when Derek died. Playing in a poker tournament.”
“So we’re back at square one,” I said.
“Looks like it,” he said. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I said, and hung up the phone feeling empty. Both Tania and Zeke were likely to be convicted and imprisoned. And there was nothing I could do to help them.
“What’s going on?” Catherine asked.
I told her what John had shared with me—including Fred’s alibi.
“Do you think it could have been someone he was working for?” she suggested.
“Maybe,” I said. Something was niggling at me, though. “Or maybe I’ve been following a false trail all along.” I told her about the threatening handwritten note that had turned up in Derek’s pocket.
“And there was something Fred said to me,” I continued. “He said that Derek was involved with someone on Seal Point Road.” All of a sudden I remembered the woman I’d seen crying near the blueberry patch the morning Derek was found … and the woman I’d seen at his house. I was almost sure it wasn’t Tania; and I thought I knew who it was. There was only one piece that didn’t fit.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“After eleven,” Catherine said.
Too late to confirm it tonight. “If I prepare everything ahead of time, can you serve breakfast tomorrow morning?” I asked.
“I suppose so,” she said. “Why?”
“I have an errand to run,” I told her. “I won’t be long, though.”
_____
It was raining the next morning when my alarm went off. I leaned over and kissed John, who hadn’t gotten in until after two, and padded downstairs to put breakfast together. I had finished my second cup of coffee and slid two pans of blueberry muffins in the oven when the phone rang.
“I heard Zeke Forester got arrested last night,” Charlene said without introduction.
“Yeah. He confessed to growing pot in his barn; he’s going to try to help the police break up the drug ring.”
“What about Brad?”
“He’s staying with us for now.”
“What happens if Zeke ends up in jail for twenty years?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“And no help for Tania, either,” she said. “This hasn’t been a terrific week.”
“No,” I agreed, looking out the window at the blue water, which was glittering in the morning sun. I decided to keep my suspicions about Derek’s killer to myself; no use getting Charlene’s hopes up before I was sure. Ever since that one morning when I’d gone blueberry picking, everything had gone awry.
“There’s one good bit of news, though,” she told me. “I heard Derek’s aunt and uncle are expecting a baby.”
“Did they want one?”
“They’d been trying for years,” she said. “Jeff came down to the store and bought drinks for everyone yesterday. He’s so excited that Turtle’s pregnant.”
“Who’s pregnant?”
“His wife. Her name is Elizabeth, but she used to be called Turtle when she was a kid; she was really shy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her,” I said. “She’s got a lovely garden, though.”
“Anyway, they’ve been trying for a couple of years. Fertility treatments and everything; they’d just about given up.”
“Well, I’m glad there’s a bit of good news,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Particularly after they lost their nephew. Was he related to him, or her, do you know?”
“Derek was Jeff’s sister’s son,” Charlene said. “Funny how these things happen, isn’t it? The doctor said they should give up and adopt. God works in mysterious ways, I suppose.”
I pulled the sugar canister out of the pantry. “Let’s just hope God manages to get Tania off the hook, too.”
“I know,” she said. “Well, I’ve got to run. Let me know if you need help with
Brad.”
“Thanks, but you’ve got enough on your plate as it is,” I told her.
As I hung up a moment later, my mind was whirling. I was dying to get these muffins finished so I could follow up on my hunch.
A moment later, Catherine appeared in the kitchen, dressed in slim-fitting khaki pants and a cashmere sweater.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“I’m so glad you asked. I have a quick errand to run. Muffins are in the oven and fruit salad is in the fridge,” I said. “If you could whip up some scrambled eggs and sausage and serve the guests when they come down, that would be terrific.”
“I can do that much,” she said. “When will you be back?”
“I should be back in time to do the dishes.” I grabbed my windbreaker and headed for the door, adrenaline pumping through me.
Catherine’s voice had a suspicious edge. “Where are you going?”
I told her.
“Can’t John go with you?” she asked, giving me a searching look.
“He’s still asleep,” I said. “I’m just going to see if I can lay eyes on her.”
“Do you want me to join you?”
“No, that’s okay. If you’ll take care of the guests, that would be great.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I’m just going to take a look,” I said. “If I’m right, I’ll come back and tell the cops.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re a grown woman, so I can’t stop you. But If you’re not back in an hour,” she said, “I’m waking John and calling the police.”
_____
I parked the van at the end of Seal Point Road, on the shoulder, and got out into the cool summer morning. The dew glistened on the blueberry bushes on the side of the road, and the breeze off the water was fresh with salt mingled with the scent of pine, but I barely noticed it as I hurried down the road toward my destination.
The little house was as pretty as it had been the day I first saw it. The geraniums still bloomed cheerily in their window boxes, and the roses near the fence bloomed. It looked like a storybook house, but if what I suspected was true, it hid a darker tale.
I turned off the road and plunged into the damp bushes, my eyes trained on the house. There was a light on toward the back. I pushed through the bushes toward the back yard, which was fenced in with a white picket fence and lined with roses. As I peered over the fence into the lit room—the kitchen—I hoped I was right. If I was able to confirm my suspicion, I’d hurry back home and tell John everything, and the police could take it from there.
Death Runs Adrift (The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries) Page 20