This orchard stretched on for a long way, hundreds of trees marching along in straight lines, forming squares and rectangles and diamonds. The ground beneath them, of course, was cleared. Most growers mow around their trees. I wasn’t sure why.
Joe was a native of orchard country. I turned to him. “Why do fruit farmers mow around trees?”
“Most of them believe tall grass takes nutrients from the trees. Besides, they want to keep the area smooth and even so they can run tractors and trailers down the rows without bouncing fruit around and bruising it.”
Now, in October, the fruit trees were still a dull green, but the oaks and maples—the woods around edges of the orchard—were turning brilliant reds and oranges.
“It is beautiful,” I said.
“Silas was a good grower,” Joe said. “Everything looks neat. Spic-and-span. The only thing I see is one ladder out of place.”
He gestured, and I saw it, too. A three-legged ladder, the kind used for picking fruit, was standing beside a tree. But it wasn’t an apple tree. It was a taller maple at the edge of the orchard.
“Lee! Joe!” Aunt Nettie’s voice came from behind us.
“I guess she’s ready to go,” Joe said.
“So am I.”
We called out, then made our way back down the lane and into the yard of the cottage. Aubrey was pulling up Monte’s stake. Aunt Nettie was holding the long leash, and the puppy immediately made for the bathroom “wing,” pulling Aunt Nettie behind. Monte crawled under the bathroom, finding an easy path between the cement blocks that held the room up. He began digging around in the sandy dirt.
“Come on, Monte!” Aubrey sounded exasperated. “You’ll get mud in the car.”
He took the leash and hauled the pup out, over Monte’s loud objections. As predicted, the dog was a mess, his chocolate hide covered with gray dirt. Joe held him by the collar while Aubrey brought a towel and a brush—more puppy gear—from the SUV and cleaned him up. Then he led Monte over to the vehicle, opened the rear end, and spoke to the puppy. “Kennel, Monte.”
Monte jumped right up, leaping into the SUV and going into his big carrying case.
Aubrey was rewarding him with a dog snack when the shot rang out.
Chapter 9
I think I was more conscious of a metallic clunk than I was of the shot. Which was logical, I guess. The sound of the shot being fired didn’t have a lot of significance. The shooter could have been firing in any direction.
But that clunk was proof that the shot had hit the SUV. The guy with the gun was firing in our direction.
We all yelled at the same time.
“Get down!” That was Joe.
“Aunt Nettie! Duck!” That was me.
“Heavens! Was that a shot?” That was Aunt Nettie.
“What the hell?” That, of course, was Aubrey.
Monte even began to bark.
The next second the four of us had ducked behind the passenger side of the SUV. Aubrey had to have gotten around, over, or under the vehicle’s open rear door, and I’ve never been sure how he did it. But he did. He was right there with the rest of us, cowering.
Nothing else happened for a long moment. Monte gave one last howl and quit barking. We all looked at each other. None of us seemed to have any idea of what to do next. The moment stretched. No more shots came. Finally Joe spoke. “I don’t have my cell phone.”
“I don’t, either,” Aubrey said.
There was another minute of silence before Joe spoke again. “If we had a stick, we could hold Aubrey’s hat up and see if it draws fire, I guess.”
Aubrey gave a weak laugh. “Just like a B western.” “It worked for Clint Eastwood.”
We huddled a few more minutes.
“I don’t hear anybody moving around in the bushes,” I said.
“I think that was a rifle shot,” Joe said. “A guy with a rifle doesn’t have to be close. He’s just got to be able to see through the bushes and trees.”
Aunt Nettie came up with a practical plan, as she usually does. “Do you think we dare open the doors on this side of the SUV and get in?”
“Let’s try it,” Joe said.
Aubrey opened the right front door. Nothing happened. He started to climb in, but Joe stopped him. “That shot seemed to be aimed at you,” he said.
“You stay down. Let me drive. At least you’ve got tinted windows.”
I wasn’t sure the tinted windows were useful. The guy with the rifle wouldn’t be able to see who was in the driver’s seat, true, but he was bound to figure out someone was. He might think it was Aubrey and shoot Joe by mistake.
But Aubrey didn’t argue, and I didn’t, either. Joe got in, followed by Aubrey, who slid in and crouched with his knees on the floor and his elbows in the front passenger seat. I opened the door to the rear bucket seats, and Aunt Nettie and I got in, taking the same prayerful position.
“The back’s still open,” Aubrey said.
“Can it be closed from inside?” Joe asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“I can close the kennel,” I said. I reached around my seat and did it. At least Monte couldn’t jump out.
“Good,” Joe said. “I’ll back out and drive off gently. As soon as we’re a little way up the road, I’ll get out and close up.”
The plan worked. Joe backed the SUV out onto Lake Shore Drive. Monte barked, maybe trying to tell the stupid humans the rear door was still open. Joe shifted into drive and moved forward, driving slowly for about a quarter of a mile before he stopped. Aubrey started to open his door, but I stopped him. “No, Aubrey. You stay down.” I jumped out, slammed the rear door, and was back inside in less than five seconds.
When we moved off again, Joe gunned the motor and dug out. And we all took deep breaths.
“Go to my house,” Aunt Nettie said. “We can call the sheriff from there.”
That gave me nearly a mile to try to absorb what had just happened.
First, why had we all assumed Aubrey was the target of the man with the rifle?
That was easy. Aubrey had been at the back of the SUV. Joe, Aunt Nettie, and I had all been around on the passenger’s side, ready to get into our seats. The shot had come from the driver’s side of the SUV. Aubrey was probably the only person the gunman could have seen clearly enough to aim at.
Besides, I admitted to myself, after what Maggie had told me, I was ready to kill Aubrey myself. It was easy to assume that someone else had a reason. Maggie sure did.
At that thought, my heart leaped to my throat, then dropped to the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to involve Maggie in this. But Ken had actually been out in the area. Maybe Maggie had been there, too. Ken was worried about Maggie; he’d told me as much that morning. If she’d told him that Aubrey had threatened her . . . I shoved the idea out of my mind. I didn’t want to believe Ken or Maggie could be involved. Besides, how could they have known Aubrey would be there?
Joe pulled into Aunt Nettie’s drive, and Aunt Nettie got out her house keys. “That cottage is outside the city limits,” she said. “I’ll call the sheriff.”
“No, wait!” Aubrey’s voice was sharp. “I’m beginning to think we’re overreacting to this whole episode.”
“Aubrey! Someone shot at you!”
“I’m sure it was some sort of accident.”
“Even if it was, you can’t simply allow people to fire around wildly without complaining about it.”
“But why would anybody want to shoot me?”
“Why would they want to shoot any of us?” Joe said. “Let’s see if we can find the bullet hole.”
We all got out and looked. The bullet hole was high up on the SUV, right at the back, where the roof met the side. Joe got Aubrey to restage the shooting, to stand right where he’d been when the shot rang out. Then he whistled softly. “Aubrey, that guy didn’t miss you by six inches.”
Aubrey looked a little green, but he stuck to his argument. “It must have been some sort of acc
ident.”
“I guess the guy saw the outback hat and thought you were a kangaroo,” I said. “Are we going to call the cops or not?”
Joe hesitated, to my surprise, and Aubrey carried the day. Or at least a compromise was reached. Joe said he and Aubrey could drive Aunt Nettie and me back to town, then show the SUV to Chief Jones privately. They’d tell him what had happened without going through the county dispatcher. Maybe, since the dispatcher wouldn’t be using the radio to send out a patrol car, we could keep the report quiet.
I thought it was screwy, but Joe was, after all, a lawyer. He was even Warner Pier City Attorney. If he thought that was good enough, I wasn’t going to argue. I’d spent enough of my day making statements and being quizzed by detectives. But knowing that some unknown rifleman was prowling around on the Snow farm less than twenty-four hours after its owner had been beaten to death seemed highly suspicious to me.
The SUV was the only vehicle available, so Aunt Nettie and I accepted a ride back to TenHuis Chocolade. As I got out of the SUV, I did reach behind the seat to give Monte’s chocolate-colored hide a pat.
The first thing I saw as I walked in the door was more dark chocolate puppies. Dolly Jolly was standing at a big worktable in the front of the shop, molding them.
“Oh, hi!” she said. As usual, Dolly’s voice was loud enough to shatter glass. “Lindy Herrera came by to see you, Lee!”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
Dolly didn’t answer for a long moment. She was pouring molten dark chocolate into a mold that made a dozen one-inch dogs. The mold was arranged something like an ice tray and Dolly was carefully filling each compartment with melted chocolate she ladled from a big stainless steel bowl at her elbow. This is one of the first jobs Aunt Nettie gives new employees. It looks easy, but when you’re learning, it’s best to concentrate, and Dolly was doing that. I could tell by the way she was sticking her tongue out.
She put her ladle in the bowl, then tapped the mold gently on the table to remove any air bubbles. Next she picked the mold up and ran a spatula across the top, scraping any excess chocolate back into the bowl. Then she looked up at me and spoke. “All Lindy said was that she’d heard a juicy bit of gossip! But she didn’t offer to tell it to me! Said she’d wait for you!”
“A juicy bit of gossip. Hmm. I’ll give her a ring.”
But first I had another job to do. I’d put off telling Aunt Nettie about Aubrey’s lack of credentials as long as possible. I couldn’t tell her what Maggie had said, but I needed to tell her at least as much as I had told Vernon.
I turned to her. “Aunt Nettie, could you come in the office a minute. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Aunt Nettie sighed. “Can we put it off? Lee, I should make a condolence call on Maia and Vernon. Can you come with me?”
I must have frowned, because she went on. “After all, I was out to dinner with them last night. I guess I could go alone.” She sounded doubtful.
“No, I don’t want you to do that,” I said. “I’ll give Lindy a quick call, then go with you. We can talk when we get back. Do we need to take food?”
“Maybe a plant would be better. We can stop at the Superette.”
Maybe I was looking for an excuse not to tell Aunt Nettie about Aubrey. Anyway, I put it off.
Lindy wasn’t in her office, so I left a message, and Aunt Nettie and I left on a condolence call I’d rather be shot than make.
Come to think of it, I nearly had been shot. A shiver ran around my shoulders and down my back. Then we got in my van and headed back the way we’d gone earlier, turning off the interstate at Haven Road. Only this time we turned inland, away from Lake Michigan, to reach Ensminger Orchards.
Vernon and Maia’s house was nothing special. It was just an ordinary one-story, white frame house with no claim to either architectural or historic significance. Any significance the farm had came from the outbuildings. The house was surrounded by wellmaintained barns, machine sheds, and storage buildings. The property gave the impression of prosperity, but it looked as if every cent had been plowed back into the orchard business. The house was unimportant in the overall layout.
I might have blamed Vernon for this, but the yard Aunt Nettie and I parked beside didn’t look special, either, and that was usually the farmwife’s responsibility. There was no fence or flower bed. The shrubs needed trimming, and one lone tree had been planted smack in the middle of the patch of grass that passed for a lawn. The only other trees nearby were peaches and apples planted in the usual neat rows.
Aunt Nettie got out of the van with the pot of ivy she’d bought at the grocery store. I moved close to her and spoke softly. “From the looks of the yard, we’re abandoning this poor ivy to a terrible fate.”
“It’s only a plant, Lee.” Aunt Nettie’s voice was sharp.
As we walked toward the porch, Vernon opened the door. “Oh, hello,” he said awkwardly. “It was nice of you to drop by.”
I expected him to step back and invite us in, but he didn’t. He just stood there, blocking the door, as we approached. Then he stepped outside and let the storm door close behind him.
That was certainly not hospitable. But it was surprising.
Aunt Nettie smiled sweetly, just as if he’d strewn flowers in our path. “We wanted to tell you and Maia how sorry we are about her uncle.”
“She’s resting.” Vernon looked back into the living room nervously. “I’ll tell her you came by.”
“It must have been a real shock to her,” Aunt Nettie said. “Are there other relatives?”
“Not close.” Vernon wasn’t budging from in front of that door. “My sister was down from Grand Rapids for a couple of hours.”
There was a long pause. I didn’t know what to say, and apparently Aunt Nettie didn’t either. Finally she moved toward the porch, holding out the ivy plant. “We wanted to bring this.”
Vernon looked panicky. To take the plant, he had to either move away from the door, toward Aunt Nettie, or he had to let her come within reaching distance of him. He stepped forward, still holding on to the door handle behind him. Then he moved back, still clutching the handle. Apparently he wasn’t able to decide which of the two alternatives to pick. I stared. It was fascinating. I could almost read his mind. He couldn’t decide if he should let go of the door, or if he should let Aunt Nettie come close enough to . . . to what? See into the house?
What was eating big, old, reliable, solid Vernon?
Then I heard a tinkling laugh. It was Maia’s phony ha-ha, but it didn’t come from inside the house. It came from my left. I swung my head in that direction, and Maia herself came around the corner.
“Oh, you’ve brought a plant,” she said. “Aren’t you two darlings?”
“We’re very sorry about Silas,” Aunt Nettie said.
Maia made a strange little sound, someplace between a choke and a giggle. “Uncle Silas and I weren’t close,” she said. “But I guess I’m the only relative he had.”
“That’s what Vernon said.”
Maia made that strange noise again. “It’s funny. My grandfather had three children, but my mother was the only one to marry. Except for Aunt Julia, of course. The one who ran off with Dennis Grundy. Of course, she was from an earlier marriage. She was a half sister to my mother and Uncle Silas.
“She never contacted the family after she left. If she had children, we didn’t know anything about it.” She giggled or choked again. “So I was the only child in my generation. And now I’ve outlived them all. I’m the last of the Snows.”
Vernon moved, finally, letting go of the storm door. “I thought you were lying down,” he said to Maia.
Was I imagining the challenge in the way Maia looked at him? “I thought I’d take a walk,” she said.
We obviously weren’t going to be asked inside, so Aunt Nettie began to make motions toward leaving. She handed the ivy to Maia. “We just wanted you and Vernon to know that we’re thinking of you. And please ca
ll on us if there’s anything you need.”
I decided I’d better chime in. “Yes, if you need . . . anything, we’re here.” I turned toward the van, unable to think of anything more to say. I had my hand on the door handle before I was inspired to make another comment. “And thanks for letting us visit the cottage.”
Maia didn’t say anything, but Vernon spoke. “Don’t mention it.”
“It’s pretty interesting,” I said. “I hadn’t realized it had been in use as recently as it had. And the orchards behind it—they’re beautiful.”
Maia did that little giggle business again. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. The orchard behind the cottage is beautiful. It looks well-cared-for and perilous—I mean, productive! The orchard looks productive.”
“Silas was a good fruit man,” Vernon said. He moved close to Maia and put his arm around her shoulder. “He could be cantankerous, but he was a hard worker.”
Maia giggled, then pressed her fingers against her lips. Aunt Nettie and I said good-bye, then got in the van and drove away. As fast as we decently could.
“Maia’s getting stranger and stranger,” I said.
“She acted almost normal last night. Subdued, the way she used to act.”
We were silent a moment, then I took a deep breath and prepared to tell Aunt Nettie about Aubrey. I began that way. “About Aubrey . . .”
“That really mystifies me,” Aunt Nettie said. “Why anybody would shoot at him. But I don’t want to talk about him, Lee.”
“But, Aunt Nettie, there’s something—”
She smiled and patted my hand. “Now, Lee, don’t worry. I’m not going to give him any money. And speaking of money, how did we come out on the special order of chocolate-covered Oreos?”
I tried to report on Aubrey once more before we got back to work, but she cut me off again. And during the hour and a half we spent at work that afternoon, she simply refused to talk to me privately. I was completely balked. I had to face it; Aunt Nettie didn’t want me to say anything about Aubrey.
The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle Page 9