Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  * * *

  After getting a couple of hours of sleep, Charlotte woke to an adrenaline rush from the events of last night surfacing in her mind. Her first thought was of Samuel, so she threw on a sundress and her sneakers and ran out to see if he’d returned.

  “Charlotte,” Diane shouted, hearing her in the foyer. “Come have some breakfast, and we’ll talk about how we’re going to attack this day and right the ship.”

  “Sounds good—I’ll be right back!” Charlotte raced out and down to the paddock. Her heart was going a mile a minute. When she reached the split rail and saw that Horse was chowing down, she was relieved—it meant that Samuel was indeed back.

  Samuel poked his head out of the barn; in his hands he held the reins of the horse’s tackle as he polished the brass.

  “Good morning,” Charlotte greeted him. “I wasn’t sure if I’d find you here or in jail, the way you took off last night.” She paused. “I was worried.”

  Hearing her last few words, he put down the reins and joined her in the paddock.

  “You were worried? Really?” Samuel studied Charlotte’s face for the answer.

  “Of course. You are a vital member of this team,” Charlotte replied, looking away. She was uncomfortable with his inspection.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t do anything to Wade. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I went to the stables where he and his Ranchero buddies keep the horses they ride. I found them all sitting outside around a fire, drinking from a whiskey bottle. They were all pretty incapacitated, so I kept my distance. When I saw Chief Goodacre drive up, I high-tailed it out of there.”

  “I’m glad that you didn’t do any harm to Wade, and just so you know, I can fight my own battles.”

  “Damn it, woman—”

  “You two ever do anything but hang out in the paddock and argue? This is pretty much where I left you last night.” Chief Goodacre strode down to them with a couple of deputies in tow.

  “Canvas all around here and then farther down the hill where the burnt-out trucks are sitting. Look for anything that is out of place. I would really love to find some fingerprints, preferably from a cigarette butt,” Chief Goodacre instructed her officers.

  “Good morning, Chief. I guess that you didn’t find out who set fire to our produce?” Charlotte inquired.

  “Wade admits that he rode up here, but he says it was just for fun. He and his boys were returning from a ride and were on their way to the stable. When they passed your farm, he told everyone to wait a couple of minutes, and he rode up the hill. His buddies claim that he wasn’t gone more than fifteen minutes. Enough time to scare you, but not enough to set that kind of big fire.”

  “His buddies could be lying to protect him,” Samuel suggested.

  Or his buddies could have set the fire while Wade and his horse made sure that I’d be his alibi.

  “They could, but I pressed pretty hard, and in their inebriated state, one of them would probably have slipped up. Also, I inspected the horses, and there was no smell of smoke. I did the same with Wade, but they had a campfire going, and that masked any other odors.”

  Samuel kicked up some dirt in frustration.

  “What about Serge and Annabel? Did they have an alibi for last night?” Charlotte asked, hoping that they didn’t.

  “Yes and no. I woke up Annabel—I could have guessed that she’d wear one of those fancy lace negligees and robes—and she said that she’d been home all night. She told me that Serge had called around seven to say that he was taking customers out to dinner clear over in Los Cruces and was going to stay the night there so he wouldn’t have to worry about drinking and driving. After I talk with the prosecutor, I’ll pay old Serge a visit and see what he has to say for himself.”

  Charlotte watched the chief instruct the officers once more and then leave them to their inspecting. She admired how very focused the chief could be, and decided right then and there to do the same.

  “Samuel, I’m going to paint those signs for the You Pick ’Em business, and I’d like to get them up today if possible. We’re going to be open for business, starting tomorrow. And I want to include tomatoes in the deal. Maybe we should talk about diversifying our crops next season. I’m sure that folks would enjoy picking all kinds of fruits and veggies. One way or the other, we are going to sell what we grow!”

  Charlotte stormed up the hill with the purpose of a woman on a mission.

  * * *

  The rest of the day was both busy and productive. Beau and Diane worked on fliers for You Pick ’Em that they promised to dispense around town on their drive to Los Angeles. Alice used brightly colored markers and ribbons to decorate strawberry and tomato baskets. And after Charlotte finished the signs, she went into the Farm Shop to put the finishing touches on the store. Horse happily followed along.

  “You like all this activity, don’t you, Horse?” Charlotte knelt down next to him and stared into his big bright eyes that were looking back at her through a wispy waterfall of light pink lashes.

  “I’ll tell you what, Horse: from now on I’m going to you, and you alone, with who I suspect murdered Marcus Cordero. You can tell me, in whatever way you like, if I’m on the right track or not.”

  He cocked his head to one side and studied her face as she was talking. His tail was spinning like a propeller beanie on a windy day.

  “Do we have a deal, Horse?” Charlotte extended her hand to him. To her utter surprise he brought his upper right hoof up to meet it.

  I think that Samuel has been secretly training this little guy.

  “Hi, Miss Charlotte,” Joe said, entering the farm shop with an armload of wooden boards. “Did I hear you say that you want You Pick ’Em guests to start in the store and then go out to pick?”

  “That’s right, Joe—will that be a problem?”

  “Not at all, but I thought that we might need some directional signs to guide them, especially on days when it gets really busy.”

  “I like the way you think!” Charlotte smiled and looked at the boards.

  “Should I just paint arrows on the signs?” Joe asked.

  “I have a better idea.” Charlotte took out a pad of paper and began to draw.

  Charlotte finished the signs outside, where she could spread out her paints and brushes and not have to worry about being messy. When she handed the last one to Joe to post, she saw Diane and Beau approach. She knew that she’d been a little cool to them the previous night and wanted to make amends.

  “Is it time already for you to drive back? I feel so bad that you came all this way and stupid people doing stupid things prevented us from having fun together.” Charlotte gave them each a hug.

  “Even though we all had a rough time of it, the farm is just so beautiful that I always return home feeling as rejuvenated as I do after a hydrating facial,” Beau said patting his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry—” both Diane and Charlotte said in unison.

  “It is clear that you belong here, Charlotte, despite the mess that you found yourself in, and it isn’t my place to tell you differently. If you are determined to make this farm successful, I’ll support you, but you can’t stop me from worrying. Remember, the last “F” in BFF stands for ‘forever.’” Diane looked into Charlotte’s eyes to show her sincerity.

  “Thank you, Di, and I am and will continue to be ever vigilant. Somewhere out there is a rotten tomato on a vine, and I’m going to find it and pluck it out!”

  “I have no doubt you will. Beau and I will be back on Thursday night to give you extra help preparing for the barbecue fundraiser. We made up our minds this morning, and we both got some time off. No arguments,” Diane said, seeing Charlotte start to wind up.

  “We’ve got the fliers, and we’ll make sure that everyone in Little Acorn sees them, darling. Oh and I just love all your signs! Ta-ta.” Beau waved.

  Charlotte saw that Joe had nailed the signs on posts that lined the path down to the farm store. They really did look cute with the line draw
ing of Horse that she’d done and his hoof prints trailing behind him. In addition to the illustration, the arrow signs also had the words

  “U Pick ’Em.”

  Things were turning around.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next few days were so busy that Charlotte barely had time to do much else but lead U Pick ’Em groups. With school out for summer, moms and dads were desperate for things to keep their kids occupied—happy to pay for baskets of tomatoes in exchange for a couple hours of peace. And a few parents had even bought some of her antiques.

  Chief Goodacre had called to say that the prosecutor wanted her to get statements from some of the other farmers that Serge may have bilked, and then he would consider an arrest warrant. Since the Finn Family Farm had a murder hanging over its head, he thought that the case would hold up better with a handful of grievances.

  “What about Serge’s alibi for the night of the fire. Did that check out?” Charlotte asked her.

  “I’m afraid that it did. I would have loved to pin that on him. They had a room at a local Los Cruces Mexican restaurant, and the staff told me that the margaritas were flowing all night long.”

  Something was nagging at Charlotte about Serge and Annabel, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

  They said their “goodbyes” just as two parents and six kids walked into the farm shop.

  “Hi, welcome to the Finn Family Farm’s You Pick ’Em adventure. You guys want strawberries or tomatoes?”

  “Strawberries!” they all yelled.

  “Okey-dokey, these are the last four wagons that aren’t already out in the fields, so grab those. They’re loaded with baskets and ready to go. I don’t suppose that you all want to go to the paddock first and see the animals?” Charlotte gave them a mock shake of the head.

  More shrieks and screams erupted from the excited bunch.

  “You are a godsend,” one of the mothers said to Charlotte as they walked.

  Charlotte noticed that despite having her hands full with kids, she maintained a happy demeanor. She walked with her head held high and her home manicure, with kiwi green nail polish, said that she leaned toward the side of whimsy.

  “I remember you. We were stuck behind the fake Rancheros led by Wade Avery about a week ago. You drive a blue minivan?”

  “That’s me. I’m Marcy, and this is my neighbor and partner in crime, Izzy.”

  “Pleased to meet you both, and thanks so much for coming. We’ve had some setbacks when I first arrived, but I think that now I’m finally getting the tiger by the tail,” Charlotte told them.

  “You got a tiger? Wow!” said a boy of about ten. His face was a roadmap of freckles, and his sunburnt nose told her that someone snuck out of the house without applying sunscreen first.

  “No, that’s just an expression, but we do have a horse that plays soccer.”

  “Cool.” The boy ran on ahead.

  “Have they solved the murder that happened in your field? Or at least, do they have any leads?” Marcy asked.

  “Not yet, but I think I’m … ah, they’re getting closer. Did you know the victim? His name was Marcus Cordero.” Charlotte hoped that they did.

  “We’d met him,” Izzy said while holding a tissue to one of her kid’s noses. “Blow!

  “He tended the animals at that place … the Humble Petting Zoo. We’ve taken our kids there a couple of times, but by now it’s old hat to them and they get bored.” Her cargo shorts seemed to hold an endless supply of kid-related items, and almost before her daughter began to whine, Izzy produced a juice box from a lower-level side pocket.

  “Oh wow, what was Marcus like? Did he talk about himself much?”

  “You know, that’s the funny thing,” Marcy said, picking up the narrative. “At the farmhouse in front of the owners, he was very quiet, but when we got to the animal pens, he started yammering away, mostly to the kids.”

  They had arrived at the paddock, and Charlotte whistled the goats’ favorite musical phrase. Moments later they came scampering out of the barn to greet their visitors.

  “Was he telling them about the animals—what they eat and like to do for fun? That sort of thing?” Charlotte inquired. Charlotte had learned to have a pocket of food pellets on her at all times and was distributing handfuls to the kids for feeding the goats. This also helped disguise her questions about Marcus as nothing more than conversation.

  “No, it was more like a fantasy story. He said that he was on an adventure in the quest to find a vast treasure. That came out of nowhere and was a bit odd,” Marcy explained.

  “I agree,” Izzy said, quickly dispensing hand sanitizer after each child had fed a goat. “He kept saying that he needed to fight to get what was rightfully his. He’d challenge them to a duel if necessary. To the death. The older kids laughed at him or ignored him, and the younger ones were kind of creeped out.”

  “I can understand why.” Charlotte tried to picture the scene. It might be time for her to visit the Humble Petting Zoo. She would find the time.

  “Everyone, you’re in luck. Pele the horse is entering the paddock. Now where has my little piggy gotten to?” Charlotte looked around, stopping first at the secret dugout he used to escape the paddock. When she saw that it was empty, her eyes went to the trough, which was devoid of both food and Horse. She then turned her head to the barn entrance and squinted her eyes.

  “Your little piggy got his head stuck in a bucket that I was using to wash strawberries. I thought that I was going to have to cut through the metal pail, but some warm water finally did the trick.” Samuel came out of the barn, cradling the animal, and set him down in the middle of the paddock. Seeing Charlotte, he squealed with delight and raced over to her.

  “Everyone, this is my little pig. His name is Horse.”

  The kids stared at her, wide-eyed and silent, waiting for an explanation.

  “I call him Horse because he eats like one!” She giggled and the kids joined in with laughter. Suddenly, Horse had become the star attraction.

  Everyone spread out along the split rail fence around the paddock as Samuel disappeared into the barn and returned with a soccer ball. Seeing this, Horse walked proudly to the center of the enclosure. He looked around and issued a report of grunts to the goats and to Pele. Like the call of the wild, a group of geese flew overhead and then landed to join the game. It was as if Horse were the captain, calling out the play in code grunts.

  When Samuel thought that they were ready to start, he rolled the ball toward Horse.

  “You guys are in for a treat. I’ve watched this several times and have tried to decipher the rules, which they definitely have, but then they do something to surprise me,” Charlotte told the group.

  Horse started the match with a kickoff to Pele, the actual horse. The goats then spread out as one accepted the pass from Pele and tapped it along to the next goat that, in a moment of glory, balanced atop the ball. When he hopped off, the geese took over and chest-pumped the ball around. Samuel noticed that the female goat hadn’t had a chance to play yet, and grabbed the ball and tossed it to her for a spectacular header.

  “The only things missing from this amazing show are peanuts and Cracker Jacks,” Charlotte told the gaping audience.

  * * *

  A while later the two happy families left, laden with baskets of strawberries and tomatoes and a few of great-uncle Tobias’s knickknacks from the shop. Charlotte went down to the barn to thank Samuel for his participation. It had been a good day.

  “I’m going to have to get you a whistle and cleats, Samuel—that was some refereeing today!”

  Horse had followed her and immediately went to his trough, hoping that the dinner hour was on us.

  “Not yet, Horse,” Samuel said, disappointing him. “That was fun. It’s nice to have children on the farm again. Your great-uncle, always a kid himself, loved having them around.” Samuel gave her a warm smile as he reminisced.

  “It must have been sad and lonely
for you after he passed, and I’m sure you were wondering if you would still have a job when the estate was settled,” Charlotte said. “I can tell you right now that you do, and I am so very appreciative that you stayed.”

  “Thank you, Miss Charlotte.”

  “So may we close that chapter? You’re not going to run away and join the circus?” Charlotte’s heart sped up, hoping for the correct answer.

  Samuel laughed. “Not any time soon.”

  “Thank goodness. So, Samuel, what’s your theory on who set our produce on fire?”

  He sighed and thought for a good long minute. “There’s something that you should know about me Charlotte.” Samuel turned his head to his right shoulder and looked out over the fields, avoiding eye contact. “This is a small town, and everybody knows everybody else and most of their business. That includes the kids.”

  Charlotte hopped up onto the paddock rail, sensing that this story was going to build to an arc.

  “One summer—I guess I was probably eleven—me and my friends were hanging out by Whispering Palms Creek, digging out a section of rocks so that we could have a swimming hole. We had a system going, and by mid afternoon the water was already above our knees. So we took a break and sat in the water to cool off.”

  “Tell me about your friends—do you still see them?” Charlotte didn’t want to interrupt, but she also didn’t know when Samuel would open up again like he was doing now.

  He might tell me something that either makes him look guiltier or exonerates him.

  Samuel seemed surprised by her interest and inquiry. “Neighborhood kids around my age. There was Cade—his dad ran the gas station in town. I’d say he was my best friend at the time. He moved to Hawaii, and I think runs a sport fishing business. Then there were Tim and his younger brother, Paul. Poor little kid; he was born with this thing called Bell’s palsy, where there’s a weakness in muscle control on one side of your face.”

  Charlotte nodded, indicating that she’d heard of it.