Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  “Sure looks like me. I was one of those kids that followed Mr. Finn around and wanted to be just like him. I guess he appreciated my interest, because he would spend extra time teaching me things about the farm.”

  “Didn’t the other kids get jealous?” Charlotte asked, and Samuel lowered himself all the way down to the floor and sat next to her.

  “Not really, or I didn’t notice. Except for one grumpy kid who just never seemed to be happy. Always wanted what he didn’t have. Can you pick him out of this lineup?”

  Samuel had pointed to a photo of a group of kids all perched on the top rail of the fence around the paddock. They were all looking at Uncle Tobias, who was standing in the center, holding a rope rein attached to a llama. Charlotte carefully scanned the faces of the girls and boys and stopped on a guy who was standing behind the fence rather than sitting, watching with a naturally downturned mouth.

  “Him!”

  Samuel nodded. “You recognize him?”

  Charlotte looked again. “Is that Wade?”

  “Yep. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. Already, he was mad at the world.”

  “That’s so sad.” Charlotte let her focus expand to the entire photo and noticed a shadow at the entrance to one side of the barn. “Is that a person?” She pointed to the spot.

  “Can’t tell in this light. Let’s take the album over to the window.”

  They did so and almost bumped their heads together while trying to get a better look.

  “It looks like a woman, young and with dark hair. Did my uncle’s caretaker at the time have a wife or daughter?”

  “Not that I remember. The only one I ever saw was old Carlos, and he was too ornery to keep a woman around. But what did I know? I was just a kid.”

  “She looks a bit familiar to me, but I can’t really make out her features. I do remember seeing my uncle with a lady the summer I was here. It could be the same person, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Hey, we’ve got a great idea! Come join us on the back porch and we’ll unveil our brilliance,” Beau gleefully announced, barging in. “What were you two doing huddled together by the window?”

  “Looking at some photos. I can’t wait to hear what you all have cooked up,” Charlotte said, and yanked Samuel’s sleeve, pulling him along.

  * * *

  “Oh good—Beau found you,” Diane said. “Like you suggested, we’ve been doing some brainstorming on ways for the farm to make more money.”

  She and Alice had set up an easel pad and had drawn schematics and lists on the extra-large pages. Alice was in the process of hanging them on the siding of the porch, using blue painter’s tape. “Please sit, you two, and we will amaze you with our entrepreneurial minds and ingenuity. I’ll start us off,” Diane said.

  Joe joined the group and handed Diane a spreadsheet.

  “Thanks, Joe—not looking good, is it?” Diane started to shake her head but then turned to the pages on the wall and gave everyone a positive smile. “Alice and Joe have been giving us the rundown on the farm’s monthly expenses, which are down to just the bare minimum. As you’ve probably guessed, Charlotte, we need an infusion of cash to get production and profitability up.”

  “How much cash?” Charlotte found a small pad and pencil on the table and used it to take notes. Horse trotted over to see what she was doing.

  “About twice as much as the farm is currently making per month, but if you are thinking about a bank loan, I don’t believe that institutions will be receptive until this murder is solved and everyone here is exonerated.”

  Charlotte slumped her shoulders and stared at the figure she’d written on the pad. “What about making the farm a destination for special occasions? My great-uncle loved entertaining guests.” Charlotte looked to her friends for a reaction.

  Beau jumped up and went to the first page hanging on the wall. “Can you say ‘par-tay’? We know your uncle loved them, and now we’re going to throw them for all kinds of special occasions: birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, and holidays. People can book their events with us, and we’ll build a custom-themed celebration around the fields, facilities, food, and animals of the Finn Family Farm. All planned by famed extravaganza maker Beau Mason!”

  Charlotte applauded; Beau seemed so pleased with the idea. But in the back of her mind she knew that the competition for party venues here and in Los Angeles was huge, and without a proper advertising budget, it would be nearly impossible to get the word out.

  “Once we get some memorable parties in our portfolio, then we can market to people thinking about destination weddings!” Diane said this in almost a cheer, but Charlotte suspected that she knew the truth as well.

  “Wouldn’t we need to make some investments in order to properly provide this? A bigger kitchen, more appliances, and such?” Charlotte still tried to sound enthusiastic.

  Alice nodded. “We talked about that. We could use the kitchen in our cottage as well to double the efforts. We’ll make the dough and batters in advance and freeze them,” Alice explained, looking to Diane for affirmation. “And I’ll work harder at making jams and jellies that we can sell and use as gifts for people at the events.”

  “Great thinking, Alice! I love that idea. What about clearing out a space for a gift shop and antiques mart? I already know that I’ll have lots of my uncle’s furniture and knickknacks to pass along to others.” Charlotte felt a bit more encouraged about this venture.

  “There’s an old carport a little ways around the old lake. With some wood, hammers, and nails, we could get it back into shape.”

  “Perfect, Samuel!”

  Charlotte caught Diane grinning at this exchange and gave her a stern look.

  “And since you mentioned the old lake, Diane and Joe were going to see if they could get an advance from the county in exchange for offering free access during fire emergencies. Any news on that?” Charlotte didn’t like Diane’s expression in response to her question.

  “Joe and I did some research and made some calls,” Diane explained. Unfortunately, the last disaster depleted their budget for the year. And we haven’t even gotten to fire season.”

  “But there is one bit of good news—and this was Diane’s idea.” Joe grinned. “The fire department and their reserves have agreed to participate in a fundraiser by the old lake site and do safety demos. All we have to do is provide the food.”

  “Great thinking, all of you! What we need now is an estimate of what it will cost to get that big watering hole back to its glory. Just like it was that summer I visited my uncle. I was just nine, but he made me feel so grown up.” Charlotte smiled, remembering.

  “The biggest issue is the pump. The water source was an underground spring, which is necessary given how little rain we get around here.” Samuel had a faraway look, and Charlotte could almost hear the thinking going on in his head. “Until that’s dug up, it’s hard to know what we’re up against. The tremors and quakes through the years have most likely moved and cracked the pipes. But the good news is that some water is still draining into the lake, so it may be a repair rather than a redo.”

  “You really are a Samuel-of-all-trades,” Beau said, beaming at him.

  Charlotte agreed but wondered why a man with his skills would be satisfied in his current role. Surely he could run his own farm as well as anyone.

  Is Samuel that unambitious?

  “The PVC lining needs to be replaced in all the torn areas; the cracks need to be sealed in the concrete; and new rocks and sand need to be dumped.” Samuel either was so focused that he hadn’t heard Beau’s compliment, or he was ignoring it. “Joe, maybe tomorrow we can borrow the Espinoza Farm’s backhoe and get a look at that pump.”

  “I’ll give them a call. It sure would be nice have a lake again. It adds so much more charm to the place.” Joe looked at Alice, who nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “And once that’s done, we can explore the idea of promoting the farm for summer camp,” Beau exclaimed.<
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  “Not if it is going to interrupt my farming!” Samuel replied.

  “Or harvesting—we have enough trouble doing that in time already.” Joe shook his head.

  “Harvesting? What’s holding us back on that, Joe?” Charlotte grabbed her pencil and was ready to write down his response. Horse got back up on his hooves to observe.

  “Man and woman power. We can only afford to pay for about a dozen or so day workers, and then only for a few days a week during peak season.”

  “So, this is where the bulk of the monthly cash flow needs to go? And if we don’t pick the produce when it’s ripe, then it rots and we lose the income, correct?” Charlotte already knew the answers and wrote something down on her paper.

  Joe and Samuel nodded their heads.

  “Then that is the first thing that needs to be fixed. If we can’t get the ripe, fresh fruit to the markets in time, then we need to bring the people to the fruit!”

  Charlotte got blank looks except from Horse, who she could swear caught on as she saw his mouth stretch up under his snout and his cheeks form rosy apples.

  “We need to offer a pick-your-own program. We give people baskets and take them to the fields that we designate for this purpose and charge a discounted price per pound. This won’t interfere with running the rest of the farm, and the income can be repurposed to hire more day laborers.” Charlotte gave them her “impassioned close” smile from her advertising days.

  “Does this mean that we don’t have to pay Serge Andersen commission on those sales?” Samuel asked, standing up.

  “Sure does, because he’ll have nothing to do with those transactions.” Diane also stood.

  “Then tell me what I need to do, and let’s get started right away!” Samuel exclaimed.

  Charlotte had never seen Samuel so excited.

  “I think the promoting can be simple and straightforward. We go into town with baskets of strawberry samples and a card that explains about the farm’s pick-your-own concept, days and hours it’s offered, cost, etcetera. We paint a few signs to place outside the property’s perimeter, and after we work the kinks out, we can expand our messaging to neighboring areas that attract lots of tourists.”

  “Charlotte, I love it!” Beau lifted her up by the waist and twirled her in the air.

  “There’s one problem with this,” Alice said barely above a whisper.

  “What’s that?” Joe didn’t look happy.

  Charlotte studied Alice’s expression.

  Does she or doesn’t she want to save the farm?

  “This murder. Even if we use a field that is nowhere near the spot, do you think that parents are going to want to bring their children here?” Alice’s eyes grew glassy.

  “She’s right. No matter how much we try to bury the news with a positive, it isn’t going to go away until they catch the killer. I can’t sell the farm without taking a loss, and I can’t raise money from it while this murder is fresh in people’s minds. Case and point,” Charlotte added, catching sight of a local news van snaking along the road to the farm.

  Chapter Seven

  Thanks to Joe’s quick thinking, Chief Goodacre made it to the farm in a flash. Charlotte and the group watched from behind the drapes that hung over the front windows, as the news van was unpacked and the satellite antenna was raised. The local news anchor, Kelly Bartiromo, was getting final touch-ups to her makeup and doing audio checks. A producer kept pounding on the front door while his assistants performed recon around the farmhouse.

  Meanwhile, Horse kept squealing, confused as to why they weren’t letting him greet the new guests.

  “Horse, quiet. We’re playing something like a game of hide-and-go-seek. They’re trying to find us, and we don’t want them to.”

  Horse obediently trotted to an undetected spot behind a leather club chair.

  “I don’t know what I find stranger, Charlotte—you explaining your actions to a pig or that he appears to understand you.”

  “Don’t wonder, dear sis—just go with it.” Beau gave Diane a peck on the cheek.

  “There is nothing to report here. I’ll answer a couple of questions, and you nice people will pack up and vacate the property.” Chief Goodacre’s voice boomed over the bullhorn, which, frankly, was overkill, Charlotte thought.

  With the news team corralled out in front, Samuel left for the fields. Alice went to the kitchen with Diane, and Joe slipped out the side. Horse was seen following Samuel, perhaps in search of a mid-morning snack.

  From what Charlotte and Beau could hear, the questions from the reporter were of the standard “any suspects?” variety, for which the chief only offered the vague response “We are pursuing all leads.” After several rounds of this Q&A, the news team reluctantly agreed to leave the premises.

  When the coast was clear, Charlotte and Beau stepped outside.

  “Thank you, Chief. I was beginning to think that we would have to hide in the cellar until dark. I was sure that you didn’t want us talking to the press, and anything we told them would just be guessing. We don’t have any news about the murder.” Charlotte gave her a warm smile.

  “Guesses are the equivalent of a canary dying in a coal mine in my business. You were correct to remain mute.”

  “Has anyone else ever told you that they love your mind, Chief?” It was an odd question, but it was clear that Beau meant it.

  “Not until now, Beau, and I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Is there anything new that we should know about, Chief?” Charlotte secretly crossed her fingers on one hand behind her back; she was desperate to start getting the farm back on its feet.

  “Barely anything. This Marcus Cordero had a driver’s license that was issued at the DMV in Santa Barbara, but he is no longer at the address listed on it. Nor, for that matter, is the place itself. That whole block was razed to make room for a luxury shopping center. He also seemed to pay cash for everything, because we found no credit cards issued in his name.”

  “What is this thing called ‘cash,’ Charlotte?” Beau was only half-joking.

  “The license had his age listed, didn’t it, Chief?”

  “His birth date, Charlotte, and if my math is correct, Marcus was twenty-two when he died.”

  “Such a horrible shame.” Beau shook his head as he teared up.

  Charlotte did a little mental mathematics herself: he was ten years younger than her. Such a tragedy. He’d had his whole life ahead of him. Charlotte’s thoughts were interrupted when a caravan of three cars drove up.

  “Now what?” Charlotte looked at Chief Goodacre, hoping for another interception.

  “That’s Annabel, Serge’s wife. Among other things, she fancies herself as a yoga guru. I’m afraid that you’re on your own here, honey. When I see her, I break out in hives, and it’s not because I don’t like yoga. I’ll call you if I need anything else. Meanwhile, stick close to home.”

  The wheels on the chief’s car kicked up dirt as she sped away, hoping perhaps to convince Annabel and her group that she had a hot lead. Beau walked up and stood beside Charlotte, and they watched the spandex-clad, vinyl-mat-carrying men and women troop down the hill to the barn.

  “Beau, I have a feeling that we are not going to want to miss this. Let’s grab Diane and find a hole in the knotty pine barn wood that we can peep through.”

  Beau ran up the stairs toward the house.

  Charlotte followed quickly behind him.

  * * *

  The three friends quietly approached the barn and took a stealth position by one side of the door that was open just enough to give them a sliver view of the class posing on their mats. Goats roamed about freely and saw the downward-dog position as an invitation to climb onto people’s backs.

  I wonder if the goats think people come to entertain them?

  “Is that one peeing?” Diane asked, her mouth agape.

  “Probably,” said a male voice from behind them. The surprise caused a shriek from Charlotte.


  “I guess we’re busted.” Diane hung her head in shame.

  “You can go join them if you want,” Samuel continued. “Now that the nanny has gone, you should be safe. Just stay away from that billy.”

  “How did all this come about, Samuel?” Charlotte took one more incredulous peek into the barn. She couldn’t see too clearly the woman who was leading the class, but she could hear her.

  She must be using a microphone and portable speakers.

  “I believe that Alice met Annabel at a yoga studio in town, and they got to talking. The next thing I knew, these people were traipsing through the paddock, half naked—and not necessarily the pretty half.”

  “She must be a good yoga instructor for all these people to follow her here—what did you say? Twice a week?” Diane said.

  Samuel gave a dry laugh. “I suspect that the goats are more the attraction, and who knows, she might not even be certified or accredited or whatever they do in yoga. She’s Wade and Clark’s older sister, so I don’t believe anything that comes out of her mouth.”

  “Does Alice know who Annabel is? It seems a bit unnatural for her to be friends with the sister of Little Acorn’s resident bullies, Wade and Clarke.” Charlotte nodded.

  “She hardly ever admits to them as relations—thinks she’s above us all and is just biding her time before Serge hits it big and they move on up in society. You’ll see—hey, pig!” Samuel grabbed Horse’s back leg just in time. He’d used his snout to roll the barn door open enough to allow his round pink body to squeeze through, and was just about to make his entrance into the yoga class.

  “He doesn’t understand why the goats get to be there and he doesn’t,” Charlotte said, taking him from Samuel. “Horse, you have more important things to do with me.”

  That seemed to settle him down, and he relaxed in Charlotte’s arms.

  “I’ve seen enough here to convince me that I’ll do my stretching on a tennis court.” Diane headed back up to the farmhouse.

  “Right behind you.” Beau scampered along as well.