Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  Charlotte thought back to Wade’s comment about eating goose, and her stomach turned sour.

  * * *

  An hour later they had filled in some of the blanks but still didn’t have many answers. They found the marriage certificate for Wade and his siblings’ parents, Thomas and Lucy Avery. Her maiden name had been Ursin. Thomas’s family came from Canada, but there was no point in following that trail as he was clearly not a Finn. As for their mother, Lucy, Charlotte found it odd that the paper trail just stopped—or didn’t exist. There were the birth certificates for the three Avery children that Charlotte had just sorted through, but nothing about their maternal grandparents. Charlotte pointed this out to Theresa.

  “It is odd. I was just a kid, but I remember the Avery parents. They kept to themselves. Thomas never saved enough to be able to buy his own farm, and they struggled with money. When he got sick of working other people’s crops, he and his wife, Lucy, moved to Vancouver, where land was affordable. He had family there, so they could start a small dairy farm.

  “The kids stayed behind. Wade and Clark had steady paychecks working other people’s farms, and they still live in their childhood home. Their sister, Annabel, was set to marry Serge and he had already bought a cottage for them in anticipation. She moved in, but the engagement was suddenly called off with no explanation. Serge kept paying her room and board, and they eventually married about ten years later.”

  “What a sad story all the way around.” Charlotte sighed. “Do the parents ever come back to Little Acorn to visit their kids?”

  Theresa shook her head. “I was definitely old enough to feel the impact when word came out that they’d been killed by a drunk driver, coming home one night from seeing a movie.”

  “Good god, no wonder the boys are so angry,” Charlotte said.

  Theresa’s phone rang.

  “I need some air,” Charlotte said, and left her to her call.

  * * *

  She stepped outside and stood under the shade of a bottlebrush tree. All this talk about family made Charlotte feel homesick for her own parents, and she decided to give them a call. Her dad picked up, and she filled him in about the farm and casually mentioned the possibility of having family in Little Acorn. She told him about rumors of an earlier will, leaving out any mention of murder.

  No need to worry them unnecessarily.

  “Honey, your great-uncle Tobias left the farm specifically to you because of the wonderful summer you’d spent there with him. That should throw out any question of heirs or birthright. But I too had heard that grandpa and Tobias had a third brother, so if you’ll hold a minute, I’ll go into my office and dig out an ancient file folder.”

  “Sure, Dad.” Charlotte used the time to make a mental list of all the shops she wanted to visit before returning to the farmhouse. When she zeroed in on the Wine Tasting Room, she saw two figures standing inside the door, engaged in a passionate embrace. This was no cursory “goodbye” peck. The sign on the door was turned to the “Closed” side. Charlotte assumed that they didn’t open before noon. She smiled; love was in the air in Little Acorn. Her dad came back on the line and started giving her the dark side of her family history. She pulled out Beau’s flier and made some notes on the back as her father spoke.

  The door to the wine tasting shop opened, and the man that had been involved in that love fest stepped out. He bent in for one more peck on the lips and then turned to leave. That was when Charlotte recognized him. He was none other than Serge Andersen. Then the woman stuck her head out the door for a “goodbye” wave, and Charlotte saw that she was not his wife, Annabel. So in addition to being slimy, Serge was also a cheater.

  Why am I not surprised?

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Theresa said, poking her head out.

  Charlotte returned to the conference room.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing scary, just interesting. I called home and asked my dad about my family. It’s what I witnessed going on across the street that’s the shocker.” Charlotte sat down with a thump and relayed what she had just witnessed.

  “Ah, Little Acorn gossip. There’s plenty of that going on. Let’s finish up here; I’ve got a staff meeting shortly.”

  “Okay, my great-grandparents did have a third son, named Henry,” Charlotte explained, consulting her notes. “According to my dad, he was the black sheep, and his parents seldom spoke about him. My dad only met him once, at my grandparents’ funeral, and from then on the story was that he’d gone away and would never return. Dad thinks that he had a daughter, but couldn’t confirm her name.”

  “Gone where? Did your dad say?”

  “He’s going to do some more digging, but he found a newspaper article, tucked in a photo album, saying that Henry Finn had been convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. The paper was from Sacramento, so I assume he was incarcerated somewhere around there.”

  “Give me the year and date of the article, and I can check for confirmation and current status.”

  Charlotte’s cell phone pinged.

  “I’ll text you the article—my dad just sent it to me.”

  Moments later, Theresa looked at her phone. “So Henry Finn was caught trying to rob a bank near San Jose. He shot the manager after he activated the alarm. The poor soul later died from his injuries. I’m forwarding this to my officer, Maria. She’ll contact San Jose PD and get the skinny. It will take a lot more digging to be able to connect any Averys to your great-uncle Henry. Oh, and I see no reason to hold Diane and Beau in Little Acorn any longer; they’re clearly not a flight risk. If there’s a DNA match to either of them, that’s another story, but it doesn’t seem likely. You’ve got some good friends there, Charlotte.”

  “It looks like I’m going to need them.” Charlotte sighed as she felt the constricting threats to her future livelihood and happiness grow.

  * * *

  “You sure that you don’t want to wait until morning?” Charlotte watched from a porch swing as Beau loaded their bags into the car. “It will be dark in a couple of hours.”

  “We’ll be back in L.A. by then and besides, last I checked, they make these things with lights now.” Beau smiled and kicked the front tire of Diane’s car.

  “I’ve left a few things in the bedroom dresser. I know that I’ll be back next weekend, if not before.” Diane motioned for Charlotte to scoot over on the swing so she could sit.

  “I’m being selfish. Of course you need to get back to your lives.” Charlotte tried to hide her apprehension.

  “Listen, it’s totally understandable that you’d be rattled finding out that you had a great-uncle who was a murderer, but it’s more than likely that he’s gone to hell by now. Your Uncle Tobias was ninety-two when he passed. I doubt that Uncle Henry reached that milestone. I don’t think that prison is conducive to living to a ripe old age.” Beau gave a consoling smile to Charlotte from the porch steps.

  “The chief doesn’t let any grass grow under her. I’ll bet she’ll have the whole story before you wake up tomorrow.” Diane reached for Charlotte’s hand.

  “I doubt that it will be much comfort, I’m already disgusted that I share even a thread of a bloodline with the Avery kids. And now I’m going to have to address Wade’s claims that my great-grandfather had a will that stipulated that with his passing that the farm was to be split between his sons Tobias and Henry.”

  “First the problem, then the solution, Charlotte. The onus is on them to produce the document and then have it authenticated.” Diane always seemed to know the practicalities. “And it doesn’t sound like Annabel cares one ounce about farming. From what Alice says, all she talks about is moving to San Francisco for a better life in the big city. She says that Serge’s distributorship is doing great.”

  “Oh my god, I almost forgot!” Charlotte jumped up from the swing, sending Diane into a vigorous pendulum.

  “What?” Beau asked, and Horse came racing from around the back of the house.


  Charlotte told them about the not-so-clandestine tryst that she had witnessed this morning between Serge and another woman.

  “Theresa—I mean the chief—says that this is nothing new. Apparently that guy’s made an attempt on every woman in town. She warned me that I might be next. That was the only good news that I had all day. I’m going to go to sleep tonight dreaming about the evil ways that I’ll return his advances.” Charlotte picked up Horse for comfort.

  “I’ve seen that Irish redheaded temper in action. Serge will be lucky if he comes away still being able to eat solid food,” Beau said, and all three of them laughed.

  “You should clue Samuel in on the latest events. He’s been moping around, and he deserves to know. Especially when it concerns his future as well,” said Diane.

  “And I have news about Samuel that the chief told me as she walked me out of the station.” Beau and Diane quickly huddled around Charlotte.

  “Do tell!” Beau said, touching his fingertips of his right hand with those on the other hand.

  “Wade is a couple of years older than Samuel, but they went to the same school. As did the chief. The story is that Samuel was a track star, so much so that as a freshman they let him race with the seniors. Wade was always ragging on Samuel, so the race gave him the opportunity to show up Wade in front of the entire student body.”

  “I love this story already,” Diane interrupted.

  “The race was a thousand five hundred meters, and they started out staggered. After the turn, the lanes opened, and Samuel was able to easily pass two of the runners. Wade had gotten a fast start and was way up ahead, still pushing hard. There was no way that he was going to make it to the finish first at that pace. Sure enough, Wade started slowing down, and he yelled something to Samuel as he closed in on him. Samuel got alongside of Wade and looked over and smiled at him. Then Samuel waved goodbye to him. The chief was sitting close enough to witness the entire exchange. Wade’s stare turned to rage, and suddenly Samuel was airborne and ended up landing on the side of his foot, breaking his ankle and tearing lots of ligaments.”

  “Oh god, Wade tripped Samuel, didn’t he?” Beau had now moved both hands over his mouth.

  Charlotte nodded. “That’s why he walks with a limp. His ankle was never set properly because treatment was delayed while Wade basked in the glory of winning the race.”

  “Poor, poor Samuel. No wonder he mopes. I wish that I could stay and cheer you and Samuel up.” Diane got a bit teary.

  “We’ll be back before you’ve even had a chance to miss us,” Beau said, moving in for a group hug.

  “Call me anytime, day or night—I mean it,” Diane said getting into the car.

  “Drive safe.” Charlotte watched them drive off and sat back down on the porch swing.

  “It’s you and me now, Horse. We got this, right?”

  Horse hopped down, looked at Charlotte, and let out a very manly grunt.

  Charlotte smiled at him even though she was feeling more out of control and afraid than she ever had in her life.

  Chapter Eleven

  After breakfast the next morning, Charlotte vowed to get the farmhouse organized and then work on advertising the “you pick ’em” concept. She’d found some tags with strings in one of the kitchen all-purpose drawers and went room to room, tagging and pricing the items that she wanted moved to the carport/antique store/jams and jellies store.

  She’d learned her lesson from the Stetson and made sure to check every nook and cranny of each piece that she was selling, in case there were any more hidden clues to family secrets. Apart from a few coins, an old pipe, and some seed packets, she found nothing of significance. Which was actually a blessing; she’d been deathly afraid of uncovering an ancient will that would require wrestling with her conscience.

  After the last tag, Charlotte wandered over to the carport to check on the renovation progress. She found Joe inside, cutting shelves with a table saw.

  “Morning!” Charlotte greeted him. “Want me to fetch you a cup of coffee?” she kindly asked.

  “I’m good, but thank you, Miss Charlotte. I don’t think that too much caffeine and an electric saw are a wise combination.”

  “Good point, Joe. This is coming along nicely.” Charlotte scanned the four walls of her new shop. A wooden floor had been installed to correct for the uneven ground and give the place a more structured feel. “I have several rugs that I wanted to sell. We should lay them out to warm up the flooring.”

  “No problem. As soon as I finish sawing and the dust settles, we can move items in, and you can tell us how you want them displayed. Samuel’s waiting for the water pump parts to come in, so your timing is perfect. I should be done here by end of day tomorrow.”

  She noted that Joe strove to always deliver good news to her. “That’s exciting—I can’t wait. I’ll be sure to let Alice know that we’ll be able to sell her jams by the weekend.”

  Charlotte walked around a bit and could visualize the place filled with fun things tucked into every corner; some old-time candy for the kids; a section for lamps of all shapes and sizes; racks of old, fancy clothes and hats; and a food mart filled with the season’s best. She closed her eyes and smiled. And then she remembered Marcus and the murder—cold reality snapped her out of her reverie.

  “Joe, can you take a break for a minute? There are some things that I want to fill you in on.”

  She watched him take in a deep breath as he wiped his hands on a rag.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Charlotte?”

  She explained about the possible relationship with the Avery family, Marcus Cordero’s possible link to Tobias, and finally the claim by Wade that a will existed from their great-grandfather. When she finished, Joe took a bandana out of his pocket and wiped his brow.

  “Wow, that’s a lot for you to be carrying on your shoulders. Alice and I will do everything that we can to help you. I only knew your great-uncle for about eight years, but I can promise you that none of this ever came up. Wade and Clark may have yapped about an inheritance in town, but I certainly never saw or heard them make any claims directly to Tobias. So, they are either cowards or lying or both.”

  “I hope that you’re right.” Charlotte sighed.

  “And as for the woman, Hera, all of that must have occurred before we moved into the caretaker’s house. As best I recollect, your uncle had lots of lady admirers, but no one that special.”

  “Thank you, Joe, this has all been helpful. I just want to put all the bad parts of the farm behind me so that we can move forward, making this a success and a destination for families all over Southern California to visit.”

  “Does that mean that you intend to stay on and keep the farm?” Joe gave her a hopeful, raised-eyebrow look.

  “It might, Joe, it just might.” Charlotte pursed her lips and nodded at her own realization.

  Joe seems so sincere and kind. I hope that’s not a front to hide that he’s a killer. But sometimes it’s the person that you’d least suspect …

  Charlotte next went to check on progress at the lake. Horse trotted along happily, and Charlotte was pleased to see that Mrs. Robinson was back on her perch beside his ear. She wondered if the ladybug flew to find Horse or if he came to her. The animals on this farm had their own special communication system that she might never be able to decipher. But Charlotte knew one thing for sure: if she could get them to talk, then she would probably know who killed Marcus Cordero.

  When she arrived at the edge of the dug-out basin, she saw that one of farmer Javier Espinoza’s assistants was managing a group of day laborers who were repairing places in the lake where the lining and concrete had been torn. She waved and approached him.

  “Hi, miss, I remember you from the other day. My name’s Hector.”

  “Hello, Hector. Thank you for helping out again, and please let Javier know how much I appreciate the assistance. I’ll come back with pitchers of lemonade shortly. Is there a lot of work still to be co
mpleted?” she asked him, and he studied the basin. She guessed that he was about sixty, but it was so hard to gauge with people who have spent their lives doing manual labor out in the elements.

  “No, this part is fairly easy. The test comes when we put the new pump in.” Hector whistled to a couple of men who had stopped cutting vinyl and were engaged in animated conversation.

  “We’ll break in thirty minutes. For now, let’s get this whole section done,” he hollered to them, and they nodded back.

  “I spent one summer here when I was a girl,” Charlotte told him. “I remember my uncle explaining that the water reflected the bright blue of the sky. He loved to sit on that dock when it was in good condition and watch the kids swim. We always wanted to impress him, so we’d do flips and have chicken fights.”

  “I remember, your uncle was always so generous in letting everybody cool off in the lake. I’d bring my kids, and we’d make a day of it. Have a picnic lunch and everything.”

  “Oh, so you remember my uncle sitting in his Adirondack chair, being a lifeguard?”

  Hector nodded and smiled.

  This gave Charlotte an idea.

  “Then you must remember his friend, Hera?”

  “Who doesn’t? She was the most beautiful lady in Little Acorn, and your great-uncle saw what an open mind she had and wanted to teach her everything. Whenever I saw them walking, I’d hear him telling her the names of the trees and plants and the history of the area.” Hector hung his head recollecting.

  Just like I remember him doing with me.

  “She was always happy to learn from your great-uncle, but then unfortunately the people in town started to talk. Little Acorn is not short on gossip. She would never have wanted to hurt Tobias.”

  “Do you know what happened to her?” Charlotte asked.

  “One day she was gone. Nobody knew where or why.”

  Hector looked at his watch and blew a different-sounding whistle, using two of his fingers. It was break time.