Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  “We first had to identify the body and then go through the long process of determining a motive,” the chief interrupted, picking up the story. “We finally got a break a few days ago when we located Marcus’s mother, one Hera Cordero, a woman who once resided in Little Acorn when she was in her mid-twenties.”

  “You know I can’t even watch TV for this long. Can you get to the point, Chief?” Wade grumbled.

  Charlotte watched Annabel give Wade a half smile.

  “You have somewhere to be, Wade? I suggest you forget about it because you’ve got a date with the jailhouse tonight for breaking and entering.”

  “Marcus and his mother were estranged. He was a bitter young man, and as soon as he could, he took what cash he could find and a box of mementos that Hera had kept, and left,” Charlotte continued. “From letters and photos his mother had kept in the box, Marcus learned about my great-uncle Tobias and decided to return to Little Acorn and con him out of money, maybe by claiming to be his son. My uncle died before Marcus arrived.”

  “What does any of this have to do with us? I’m leaving!” Annabel stood, but the chief pushed her right back down in her seat.

  “Perfect segue, Annabel,” Charlotte continued. “You met Marcus Cordero when you took your kids to the Humble Petting Zoo, where he worked, and you were immediately smitten.”

  “Total lie. I’ve never been to that downtrodden, measly zoo in my life.”

  “Yes, you have Annabel,” Officer Maria spoke up. “You went with me and my kids. I’ve got the pictures to prove it.”

  “It was that place? What a dump,” Annabel retorted.

  “You and Marcus started up a relationship after that first meeting, didn’t you, Annabel?” Charlotte sat on the arm of the sofa, facing her.

  “Now I know this is all a setup. My wife would never cheat on me!” Serge shouted.

  Annabel let out a diabolical, throaty laugh.

  “But you couldn’t meet just anywhere, knowing how active the grapevine was in Little Acorn. So you’d rendezvous at a bar, way on the edge of town, called Whiskey Pete’s Outpost. And that’s where you and Marcus plotted to make the Finn Family Farm his.” Charlotte glared at Annabel as she said this.

  “You have no proof of any of this!” Annabel was shaking, and her face was turning red.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Charlotte said as she was handed a plastic evidence bag from Chief Goodacre. She walked around the room, showing everyone the wooden swizzle stick inside.

  “I don’t even know what that is,” Annabel proclaimed. “Never seen it before in my life.”

  “It’s a cocktail stick. They hand them out at Whiskey Pete’s,” Serge blurted out.

  “You can’t fix stupid,” Annabel said, glaring at him.

  “May I, Charlotte?” the chief asked, and Charlotte nodded. “Let’s talk about the story that has been circulating forever about there being an earlier will for this farm.”

  “That’s all it ever was—a story.” Clark spoke up for the first time. “Annabel told us about it when we were little and said that only she knew where it was hidden. She made us do whatever she asked and promised that when the time came, she’d go get it and we’d all be rich.”

  “That’s what we suspected, Clark, and that’s what Wade was looking for when we caught him tonight in Finn’s cellar. Wasn’t it, Wade? Did she whisper to you recently that she heard Tobias hid the will in the cellar? Hoping you’d get caught and assigned the blame for everything? That’s why you were down there. In spite of knowing deep down that it was all just a story that a bossy older sister made up?” The chief nodded to him.

  Wade sighed and looked totally defeated.

  “Somebody’s busted,” Beau singsonged.

  “Annabel, you stole the old key to the outside cellar doors one day after yoga class before I arrived so that you could sneak in later and sever our sewer line.” Charlotte walked up close to Annabel as she said this. “A sewer leak like that would possibly lead to a loss in property value. Not to mention necessitating that we dig up and replace the entire pipe. During that time, we wouldn’t be able to offer our You Pick ’Em tours either, essentially draining the farm of cash and forcing me to sell. It was all part of the plan that you and Serge had cooked up, wasn’t it?”

  “What’s she talking about, lovey?” Serge asked his wife.

  “Don’t you ‘lovey’ me! You’re the criminal here, Serge. I was just trying to protect myself from your mess,” Annabel said to him, and then addressed the room. “He started skimming the farms he worked for to amass enough cash for us to buy a big place of our own. I thought that was going to be just outside San Francisco, but then I find out that he’s working a scam to buy this place. Even bribed a real estate guy to come over and give a low-ball appraisal.”

  “The fabulous Mr. Lurvy,” Beau said.

  “Never heard of him.” Serge crossed his chubby arms abruptly.

  “So when the chief and her officers get a warrant and search your office, they won’t find a written appraisal of the Finn Family Farm?” Charlotte already knew the answer.

  “How’d you—” Serge caught himself.

  “Here’s where you ran into problems, Annabel.” Charlotte sat down, and the chief took over again.

  “When you went to lunch with Charlotte, you learned that our beloved redhead had no intention of selling her farm and was going to make a go of it,” the chief told her. “With Marcus no longer an option for getaway money, you were concerned that Serge might fly the coop one day, so you let him know about your plan for sabotage. It was enough to keep him around to see it through. Serge, you wanted nothing more than to prance around town as a farm owner didn’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

  Charlotte filled in the pieces.

  “When you snuck in one night, using the key that you’d stolen for the outside cellar doors, I heard you and decided to have a look around. After pelting me with some sauce jars, I hit my head on a shelf, and you must have quickly covered your tracks and raced away. Is that when you forgot to relock the padlock?”

  “That’s it! I’m out of here! Story time is over.” Annabel turned to leave and was immediately restrained by two officers. “Let go of me!” She stomped her feet.

  “At the time, none of us could figure out what had done the damage in the cellar. We found no trace of animals, but I wasn’t going to let it go. I understand that you made a second attempt before tonight to continue your damage.” Charlotte nodded to Alice, who stood and took in a deep breath.

  “Remember the day when I found you in the cellar? You didn’t know that I was in the back room, sorting jars. I heard your steps and came out into the main room, and you nearly screamed. You said that you’d been looking for me, but if you were, then why were you so startled to see me, Annabel? I thought that you were my friend.” Alice grew teary, and Joe took her shoulders and walked her back to the sofa.

  “It was Horse who actually found your little hidey hole. You must have drawn his attention to the cellar that day you snuck down there. I was out, but he was in the farmhouse.” Charlotte motioned for the pig to come front and center.

  “Ridiculous. Pigs are just dumb animals.” Serge looked disgusted with this entire story.

  Horse made his slow walk to the center of the room as applause started to grow. He nodded his head right and left to his adoring fans.

  “I’m afraid that you’re the dumb animal here, Serge.” Charlotte walked over and stood in front of him seated and stared down. “Pigs outsmart dogs and are at an intellectual level comparable to a chimpanzee. I’d love to see how you would score on that test. Pigs also have an extraordinary sense of smell. Horse and all pigs have exceptional noses that let them root and sniff around the ground with the flexibility of a vacuum hose. Which is why, once in the cellar, Horse could follow Annabel’s scent to the hole in the stone wall where she’d started sawing the sewer line.” Charlotte gave Horse a kiss on the snout.


  “Well done, Horse,” Samuel said, and picked him up for a hug and scratch on the head.

  “But Horse wasn’t finished detecting. After following me around for a couple of weeks and listening to me talk, he was starting to understand some of my words.” On cue, Horse nodded to Charlotte.

  “Understand? They have whole conversations—it’s remarkable.” Joe grinned.

  “For the past few days, Horse had been pestering me to follow him into the fields. Something kept coming up, but finally I obeyed his request. He led me to the exact spot in the tomato vines where Marcus was found. With his snout to the ground, he worked methodically until he uncovered this.” Charlotte raised the bag with the swizzle stick once again. “It’s a cocktail fork used in drinks to spear cherries or olives, that sort of thing. On one side of the stem, it’s stamped with the words ‘Whisky Pete’s Outpost.’ If you look at the fork end, you’ll see red stains that appear to be lipstick. Pretty similar in color to what Annabel is currently wearing. Wouldn’t you agree?” Charlotte held the stained fork beside Annabel’s lips.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You think that I’m the only one to like red lipstick?” Annabel was defiant.

  “Maybe that shade …” Beau muttered.

  “So what? You call that evidence? Serge, do we have a lawyer that we can call?” Annabel asked.

  “I’ll take that mug of coffee from you now, Annabel.” The chief picked it up, holding the outside of an evidence bag to safely preserve the evidence and lipstick print.

  “Which brings us to the fire that was set on our trucks of produce ready for market,” Charlotte said, picking up the story. “That was just pure spite on your part, wasn’t it Annabel? I believe now that you can be that vengeful.”

  “What are you going to blame me for next? Global warming?”

  Charlotte ignored her and continued. “Later that night the chief and a couple officers came to your house, hoping to talk to Serge. But your husband was out of town for the night, entertaining clients.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember that,” Serge piped up, and got a death stare from Annabel.

  “Here’s the thing, Annabel. Obviously you knew that you’d be home alone that night, yet you thought it necessary to put on a lacy peignoir set? You’re vain, but still this makes no sense. Unless you knew about the fire because you set it and figured that people might be coming to your door to ask questions. Dressed the way you were would make you less of a suspect.” Charlotte looked closely into Annabel’s eyes and thought that she saw a crack.

  “One of my officers later remembered smelling gasoline when you opened the door. He hadn’t been at the fire, so he had a fresh nose, so to speak,” the chief added.

  Samuel quickly looked at Wade as Charlotte recalled how certain he’d been that Wade was the culprit.

  “So it’s time, Annabel. The evidence is insurmountable, which is why the chief spread the rumor that they were close to an arrest. We figured that would draw you back to my cellar to try to cover your tracks. Why don’t you tell me what happened with Marcus that night after we arrived?” Charlotte was almost gentle in her request.

  Annabel took on a look that made her almost unrecognizable. It was as if she’d turned into a zombie. She spoke in a staccato, emotionless voice.

  “Marcus was growing impatient to get his hands on Finn money. He hadn’t figured on Tobias dying, and he certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and claim ownership.” Annabel was still being held by the officers but had stopped struggling. “He was determined to confront you the night that you arrived, so he stormed out of Whiskey Pete’s and drove off in his car. Yes, I’ve been there, Serge—you happy? Too bad I never caught you and your little honey on the side in that dump.” She glared and him, and he slumped down into a chair, totally defeated.

  “I followed in my BMW,” Annabel continued, “and was able to pass him and arrive before he did. It was well after midnight, and the power was out. We pulled over and started to have at it. When we were almost to the farmhouse, I convinced Marcus to move down into the fields, where we could talk without being heard. I tried to convince him that we needed to be strategic about getting the money, and that’s when he said it.” Annabel was breathing heavily.

  “Said what?” Charlotte asked.

  Annabel gritted her teeth. “He said ‘What’s with this “we”? Who said anything about you getting a share? We’re not a couple; you’re not my girlfriend. I can have any girl I want. Why would I want to end up with a bitter, old woman?’ I was so angry that I pushed him hard with every bit of strength I had. He stumbled backward, and as he was going down, he laughed and gave me a mean grin. That’s when I saw the pitchfork.”

  “Annabel Anderson, you are under arrest for the murder of Marcus Cordero,” the chief said, nodding to Maria to cuff her again. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. If you decide to answer questions now, without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

  Epilogue

  By late afternoon on Saturday, the fine people of Little Acorn had slowly made their way home with full bellies of the freshest food that the land provides. They’d quenched their thirst and then some with punch, squeezed lemonade, and—for some—ice-cold beer.

  It turned out that with strategic portioning, everyone was able to sample Diane’s divine cake. Once all the sugar was digested, the kids would go to sleep tonight with dreams of goslings, goats, and a magical pig named Horse.

  Actually, the entire town was going to sleep happily and deeply that night, knowing that a murderer and a thief were behind bars.

  The Finn Family Farm residents, along with Horse and Mrs. Robinson, had gathered at the edge of the dock, all exhausted, but in a way that makes it difficult not to smile.

  “I think that everyone had a fabulicious time,” Beau declared.

  “Agreed,” Joe said. “If ‘fabulicious’ means what I think it means.”

  Beau laughed. “It’s all good, Joe.”

  “There are still some loose ends, though,” Diane said, and everyone groaned.

  “Like who beat up Serge?” Alice asked.

  “I’m willing to bet that was Annabel’s doing. She probably called up some of the more aggressive farmers and told them anonymously that Serge was skimming off them,” Joe said.

  “After she found out that they weren’t taking the money and moving up north,” Beau said, nodding.

  “Actually I wasn’t thinking about any of those things,” Diane said.

  “You were wondering what Wade and Clark kept in their garage?” Alice asked.

  Charlotte looked at her.

  “We’re experimenting with growing leeks and new types of scallions,” Alice continued. “When I was cleaning around the coop for the geese, I saw Wade on the other side of the fence, and we started talking about crops. He really does have a passion for it, when he’s not being angry at the world. He told me that he was working on organically growing these vegetables, and I asked if I could help with the starter plants that he had growing in his garage. We’ve got a perfect spot to plant a field down by the geese.”

  “Good for you, Alice.” Diane applauded her.

  So that’s why I found jars of sauce in Wade’s kitchen. Alice must have given them to him.

  “Thank you, Diane. Is that what you meant by ‘loose ends’?” Alice turned to her.

  “Not exactly, but it is related to my thoughts.”

  Everyone looked at Diane expectantly.

  “We were having so much fun today, feeding people and enjoying their company and sharing our bounty, that I started to think again about a dream that I’ve had for as long as I can remember,” Diane began.

  Beau sat up. “You want to open your own restaurant! You used to always make me play the waiter while you were head chef when we were kids.”
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  Charlotte looked at her best friend and smiled. A small tear ran down her cheek.

  “With your permission, Charlotte, I’d like to dip a toe in and just explore what it would take to open a small farm eatery on the grounds.” Diane was also getting teary-eyed.

  “Nothing would make me happier.” Charlotte hugged her.

  “I thought that I knew just about everything that farming could throw at you until this bunch drove into town,” Samuel joked. “When I realized that what you knew could fit in a thimble, Charlotte, I wasn’t sure that I’d have the patience to teach you. Especially because you can be—well, sure of yourself.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “But then you stood your ground and overcame every obstacle.”

  “Only those that I could control, Samuel.”

  “That’s the biggest lesson of all, and you caught on so quickly.” He gave her a warm smile. “That’s what has made this land so bountiful for your family for generations. You can’t control Mother Nature, but you must respect it. You have that in you, Charlotte. You’ll see when we start the new season that you have to rely on your instincts and your experience because you are spending all your money on crops that you haven’t grown yet. You have to hope that you’ll be successful.”

  Charlotte nodded. “When I was in college for a brief time, I thought of becoming an architect. Eventually, all of the numbers and calculations pointed me in other directions, but I do remember reading about Buckminster Fuller, the famous architect, inventor, and overall incredible thinker. In spite of all that he accomplished, it was one simple quote of his that struck me most. He said, ‘There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it’s going to be a butterfly.’ To me, that meant that I could do anything as long as I believed that I could.”

  Charlotte noticed that Horse had rested his head on her lap and was listening to her with half-lidded, dreamy eyes.