Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  “Horse! It’s getting dark, and I want to get these lights going. Are you coming?”

  He continued walking toward the tomato vines.

  “I get it: you have something to show me. Can it wait until morning? We’re getting ready to have a fabulous dinner.”

  Horse’s ears perked up, but he stayed in place.

  “First thing tomorrow we’ll go, I promise.”

  Horse looked out to the tomatoes and then back to Charlotte. He hung his head down and slowly trotted to the cart.

  “Good boy, and I can’t wait to see what you’ve found.” She gave his snout a scratch and drove off.

  On the drive up to the lake, Charlotte tried to get a grip on her feelings. She thought that her plan for catching the killer could work, but she hated lying to anyone.

  Am I more bothered because it’s Samuel? That hug was genuine. And nice.

  She would explain it all to him as soon as she could. Charlotte also knew that she couldn’t possibly lie to Diane and Beau, so she needed to carve out time tonight to tell them everything.

  When Charlotte arrived at the Farm Shop, she saw that the long, wooden, rustic table outside had been set for dinner, and fresh flowers in enamel jugs acted as centerpieces. The entire scene took her breath away.

  She created a pathway of lights that led from the table all the way down to the lake’s dock. She still had about a half dozen lights left, so she spaced them out to the end of the dock, threading them through the gaps between the slats.

  When Charlotte reached the end, she sat down and let her legs dangle over the water. Horse tried to do the same but had to be content with just sitting back on his rear haunches.

  “You never knew my great-uncle Tobias, did you, Horse?”

  He looked at her and smiled.

  “His spirit is still very much here on this farm. Can’t you feel it? There’s a whimsy to the place, along with a sense that this farm has all the essentials for growth. And I don’t mean produce like fruits and vegetables, but also animals like you—people too—and wonderful ideas and feelings. We must never take this for granted, and we must fight to keep the Finn Family Farm a nurturing, loving environment for all.”

  To punctuate Charlotte’s statement, Horse stood up on all fours and pledged allegiance with a belly-born howl.

  “Shrimp’s been boiled, and butter’s been melted,” Beau announced. “Come on, Charlotte. Since this is a family dinner the fastest hands are going to get the most food!”

  Horse understood enough of those words to hightail it toward the table.

  When Charlotte sat down and surveyed the faces of the people seated around her, she broke into a deeply felt smile.

  “I’d like to say a little prayer of thanks before we begin.”

  Everyone bowed their heads, and some put their hands together.

  “Lord, we thank you for this incredible bounty and for bringing us together. We’ve been tested, and we’ve remained true to ourselves while overcoming adversity. Tonight we will celebrate the many magnificent gifts that nature endowed on us and count our blessings. Oh, and when you see Tobias, please tell him that the lake’s full, the crops are brimmin’, and we’re having a big ole jamboree on Saturday!”

  “Yeehaw!” shouted Diane.

  As Charlotte sat back down, the table erupted in applause. As Beau had guessed, everyone dug in with gusto. In addition to a potful of shrimp, Diane had made cornbread, and Alice had skewered vegetables and roasted them on the grill. There were coleslaw and chips and all kinds of yummy dipping sauces. While Charlotte ate, she looked around the table and silently appreciated each person.

  Lovely Beau—not a mean bone in his body.

  Diane—wicked smart and in possession of a wonderful old soul.

  She moved on.

  Joe—always anxious to please and a spiritual man. I remember that he quoted the I Ching: “If we are sincere, we have success in our hearts, and we will succeed.” I know that he loves his wife deeply. He is a compassionate lover, not a fighter. His boat tilts toward doing the right thing every time. He could not have killed Marcus.

  Then there’s Alice. She’s a bit of a conundrum. She keeps secrets rather than tells lies. Alice will let me in when she’s ready. And as with Joe, I also believe that Alice could never harm anyone.

  Which leaves Samuel, looking handsome in the white dress shirt that he’s put on for the occasion. He thinks of the farm as his home. Would he kill someone if he thought that the farm was in danger? He certainly has mood swings, but he loves animals, and they love him. Horse would’ve let me know if he distrusted Samuel.

  Samuel caught her looking at him and smiled.

  She sighed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Everyone was too full to go swimming, but they pledged to christen the lake on Friday afternoon. When the last bite of strawberry shortcake had been gobbled up and dinner cleared, Charlotte asked Beau and Diane to take a walk with her. She led them to the fields; she had the goslings’ roost in mind for a destination, and along the way she would tell them everything.

  “So, you and the chief have narrowed down the list to two suspects: Wade and Serge. What about Clark?” Diane asked.

  “I pray that he wasn’t involved. He seems like a good guy who’s just been trampled by his siblings’ bigger personalities. But I can’t rule out that he helped the killer,” Charlotte explained.

  “Let me get this straight,” Beau said when they stopped by a water station with barrels to sit on. “You think that Marcus, who’d run away from his mom and was probably barely making ends meet, learned that she’d been in a romance with Tobias from letters in the keepsake box. He decided to disclose that he was Tobias’s son and heir, without proof, and came to Little Acorn to claim his inheritance?”

  “Correct, but he needed to gather information or some sort of proof, and while he was doing that, my great-uncle passed,” Charlotte explained. “He bided his time, associating with the shadiest people he could find, hoping to hear a secret or a nefarious deed that would help in his quest.”

  “Which means Wade could have killed Marcus, because Wade always claimed that the farm belonged to him. The barkeep told you that Marcus was always bragging in there that he was about to come into money. He could have been boasting all over town. Maybe Wade heard him and needed to get rid of another obstacle. And for sure, Wade was trying to drive you off with his scare tactics, like riding up to your bedroom window,” Diane said to Charlotte, who nodded.

  “Or Serge could actually have seen Marcus with Annabel at that bar on several occasions and chose to seek his revenge when there were no witnesses around.” Beau filled in the gap.

  “It would certainly explain the violence of the murder. Serge seems like the kind of man who would wear his double standard like a merit badge.” Charlotte shook her head.

  “All this makes sense except for one thing.” Diane put an index finger to her lip. She had Beau and Charlotte’s utter attention. “What was Marcus doing in your tomato vines, and how did the killer know where to find him?”

  Charlotte smiled. “That’s what this trap that the chief and I concocted is meant to expose. I can’t tell you any details—not because I don’t trust you, but because I promised the chief that I wouldn’t breathe a word.”

  “Can you tell us when it will happen?” Beau asked. “I want to be dressed appropriately.”

  “Soon is all I can say. You may not even know when it happens.” Charlotte and her friends had reached the geese.

  “Better to let them sleep,” Charlotte whispered. “We’ve all got a big couple of days ahead.”

  Agreeing, they all turned around and followed the path up to the farmhouse.

  * * *

  Just as the sun came up on Friday, everyone and everything seemed to hit the ground running. Charlotte opened her eyes to see Horse sitting beside her, watching her sleep. The moment she stirred, he hopped off the bed and went to the door.

  “Okay, okay. J
ust let me brush my teeth, comb my hair, and get dressed,” Charlotte told him. She could hear voices coming from the foyer and double-checked the time. It was still six thirty, but from the noise she assumed that everyone else was up and about. As Charlotte squeezed toothpaste onto her brush, she studied her face in the mirror.

  This is the day, girlfriend, if everything goes right … by tonight a killer will have been arrested, and a pall will be lifted from my home. You can do this.

  It was going to be a hot day, so Charlotte opted for denim shorts and a loose tank top. She wanted to be able to move easily and freely. When she opened the door to her bedroom, Horse bolted out, presumably heading to the paddock for a hearty breakfast. Charlotte heard the sounds of activity coming from the kitchen and went to investigate.

  But instead of seeing preparations for breakfast in progress, she saw Alice and Diane working an assembly line that they’d devised for making large quantities of potato salad. Hard-boiled eggs were cooling in an ice-water bath; Alice was busy chopping and creating piles of chives and dill; and Diane was peeling more potatoes to boil.

  “Wow. I feel like I’ve walked into the kitchen of a five-star restaurant.”

  “Morning, Charlotte,” Alice said, looking up and briefly stopping her knife skills. “There’s yogurt and fresh berries in the fridge, if you’d like.”

  “Perfect—thanks, Alice. I’ve got a couple of things to accomplish this morning, and then I’m all yours.” This time Diane looked up and gave Charlotte a look.

  She’s wondering if these are “trap-related” chores.

  Charlotte filled a bowl with delicious fruit and took it out to the porch. Just as she sat on the front steps, her cell phone rang.

  “Good morning, Chief. You and everybody else have kick-started this day early, it appears.”

  “It’s a big day—lots to do. I hear that they’re releasing Serge from the hospital this morning. Either his injuries weren’t as serious as originally thought, or he’s just too obnoxious to keep around. Probably both. Everything hunky-dory on your side of town?”

  “Everything here is hustling and bustling. The farm is in high gear to throw a most memorable party,” Charlotte told her.

  “Just as soon as we get this business taken care of, I’ll be ready to pitch in. Talk soon.” The chief hung up.

  At the same time that Charlotte was enjoying her last spoonful of sweet berries, Horse came tearing around the corner of the house.

  “Okay, I’m ready, Horse. Show me what you’ve found. And a heartfelt ‘good morning’ to you, Mrs. Robinson.”

  Charlotte had to speed-walk to keep up with the pig, who was trotting along at a healthy clip.

  I know that this is probably a fool’s errand, but he’s learning language, and wherever he stops, I have to reward him generously.

  Horse veered off toward the tomato vines, and when they passed a stack of crates, Charlotte saw that he was leading her directly to the murder site. Her pulse quickened. What on earth was he going to show her? When he stopped running, Charlotte watched Horse lower his head and snout down to the ground and use his nose as a kind of trowel. His ears flopped forward over his face as he pushed dirt away on two sides, leaving a narrow ditch in his wake. Mrs. Robinson, not happy with the bumpy ride, flew up and sat on Charlotte’s shoulder. Horse went up and down in about a five-foot-square area, moving to the right after each search. At about the middle of his third attempt, Horse stopped and grunted with gusto.

  “Is this the place, little man?” Charlotte asked, bending down to have a closer look. She looked at the spot where he’d stopped sniffing and saw that the dirt had been pushed aside to reveal more dirt. Horse’s grunts now came in rapid succession. Charlotte felt like she was playing a game of “Hot and Cold,” but there was nothing there. She reached down and pushed away some more of the mud and was about to give up when she saw something beige. When she did, Horse jumped up and down and grunted approvingly.

  What on earth is this?

  She’d thought ahead to bring a baggie … just in case. She turned it inside out and put her hand in to grab the object without getting her prints on it. When she had it completely in the bag, she pulled the bag right side out, over her hand, and stood to examine it. The object was about three inches long, made with some sort of wood or bamboo, and a fork shape was carved into one end. When she turned the bag over to examine the other side of the object, she saw everything that she needed to see.

  Charlotte did two things next; she rewarded Horse with a hard-boiled egg that she’d swiped from the kitchen, and she called the chief.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  For the next four or five hours, everyone kept busy attending to the chores to complete their area of responsibility for Saturday’s barbecue.

  Beau had done a fantastic job creating the mood with accents and decorations from the artist David Hockney’s palette of bright colors and bold strokes. In this case, Beau used found objects around the farm as his canvas. He’d found a rusty, old hand water pump and painted it red and white like a barber shop pole.

  A conversation area was created near the lake with tree stumps and crates adorned with brightly designed throw pillows with different cow faces on them. Beau had even carved and painted a face into one particularly majestic Moreton Bay fig tree, using its naturally twisted and interwoven aerial roots as tresses of Samson-strength hair. The end result was both intriguing and a bit intimidating.

  Red, white, and blue flags and other symbols of Americana were perfectly placed around the area where the barbecue would be held, and even everyday items like grill tongs and shovel handles were painted in the flag’s colors. The decor in its entirety made you feel patriotic, whimsical, and comfortable.

  “Beau, you’ve created a masterpiece!” Charlotte said, still letting her eyes dart hither and thither, discovering new decorative arts.

  “Thank you, Charlotte. Want to dress like Dorothy and wear ruby slippers? It would totally complete the picture.”

  “I’ll think it over.” Charlotte laughed.

  “What have you been up to?” Beau asked in full voice and then whispered, “Is Operation Jail Time afoot?”

  “Shh. Just put that out of your mind for now. Where’s the rest of the gang?” Charlotte asked.

  “Diane’s got a whole assembly line going, shucking corn, and Alice has others pulling out jars of all sorts of pickles, jams, and fruit from the root cellar.”

  Charlotte stopped in her tracks. “I’d better go see how I can help. I’m planning to treat everyone to a Mexican dinner in town, so dust off your sombrero, Beau.”

  “Olé,” Beau said, striking a matador pose, holding one arm above his shoulder and the other akimbo at his waist. He even rose up on his toes.

  I’ve got to make sure that everyone’s done in the cellar as soon as possible.

  When Charlotte arrived at the farmhouse, she saw Samuel and Joe shucking bushels of corn, much to the delight of the goslings that were grabbing the corn silk in their beaks and running around with it. Horse quickly joined in.

  “Looks like you two didn’t get the short straw. Sitting out here in the fresh air while watching geese frolic—that’s not work-work, that’s fun work.”

  “Until your hands start cramping,” Samuel said, but he was smiling.

  “Are the girls in the house?”

  They nodded and Charlotte climbed the steps between them.

  In the kitchen, Alice had stacked hotel pans on two tiers of a wheeled cart and covered them in plastic wrap and foil. She was now loading squeeze bottles with mustard and catsup.

  “Hi, Alice—this is impressive. Why don’t you take a break, and I’ll finish up here?” Charlotte suggested.

  “I’m almost done with the condiments, and then I need to run these bottles down to the Farm Shop to store overnight. But since we don’t have nearly enough space in the kitchen fridge to store the burgers and dogs overnight, I figured that we could put them in the cellar with some
ice packs around them. They should be fine there.”

  “I agree. Are they in these pans?” Charlotte asked while thinking.

  “Yes. Each isn’t overly heavy, but they are unwieldy. It might be easier to bring them in through the outside cellar doors. At least those steps are wider, and there are fewer of them to navigate.” Alice clearly thought this through. I thought she said she’s never used the outside doors?

  “Perfect. Are these the lot of them?” Charlotte asked, and Alice nodded. “Great. I’ll wheel the cart out onto the porch and get the new padlock key from Samuel so I can open the doors. The food will be down there in no time.”

  “Thank you, Charlotte. I have a feeling that people will be talking about this party for years to come.” Alice beamed.

  True, but probably not for the reason you think.

  “One more thing, Alice. Do you have Annabel’s phone number handy? I heard Serge is home, and I want to check in on her to see if I can do anything.”

  “Of course.” Alice pulled a small notepad out of the drawer in the kitchen island and scribbled out the numbers. “This is her cell, and it’s an easy one, so I know it by heart.”

  “Thank you. Now, I mean it: take a break and put your feet up.”

  Alice gave her a grin and a nod.

  * * *

  Charlotte wheeled the cart with the large pans through the foyer and out to the front porch.

  “Samuel, I’m going to store the meat for the barbecue in the cellar overnight. We’ve got no more room in the refrigerators. Alice thought that it would be easier to bring them down from the outside doors. Do you have the key to the new padlock handy?

  Samuel stood and pulled out his key ring. “Want me to help?”

  “No, I’m fine, but there’s still lots to do. If you guys are done with the corn, then I suggest that you check in with Alice and see what else she needs. I’ve been urging her to take a break, and besides, Diane is down in the cellar and she’ll help.”

  Samuel took the key off his ring and handed it to her. “Don’t forget to lock it back up when you’re done. You remember what happened last time.”