Sowed to Death

by Peg Cochran

  “How are Billy’s riding lessons going?” Bert asked. “Is he going to take a blue ribbon in next year’s county fair?”

  “He certainly hopes so,” Shelby said as she peeled the rind off the last piece of watermelon.

  “Jim Harris has been teaching for a long time—he’s got a string of blue-ribbon winners to his credit. Hopefully Billy will be the next one.”

  Shelby filled her biggest pot with water and added a generous measure of salt.

  “I feel sorry for Jim,” Shelby said. “We were there the day of the anniversary of his brother’s death. He’s still very torn up about it.”

  “It’s always hard when there’s no closure,” Bert said, cutting the rind Shelby had prepared into one-inch pieces.

  “I imagine it’s hard not knowing who was responsible.”

  “I think Jim has always felt a little responsible himself.” Bert scooped up the rinds as Shelby cut them and added them to the pot of boiling water.

  “Why would Jim feel responsible?”

  Shelby set the kitchen timer for five minutes. She would check the rinds then to see if they were tender. Sometimes they needed an extra minute or two.

  “Doris—she’s my neighbor who you met who works at the Dixie—was waiting tables the night it happened. It seems Jim and Sid were there together enjoying a couple of beers and shots of whiskey when they got into an argument.”

  “Oh?”

  Bert nodded as she scooped a piece of rind from the pot and tested it with the tip of a knife. “She didn’t know what it was about, but I guess Sid walked out of the bar in a huff. The two of them had gone to the Dixie together in Jim’s truck, so Sid didn’t have his car. He began to walk home.” Bert dropped the piece of rind back into the pot. “Which is pretty silly, considering it was a good five miles to his farm and he could barely walk a straight line. At least that’s what Doris said.”

  “Why would that make Jim feel responsible? He didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s the thing. He didn’t do anything—he let Sid walk out and didn’t go after him until it was too late.”

  “Sid was already dead?”

  “He hadn’t gotten far. He was found barely even a quarter of a mile from the Dixie. Jim always felt that if he’d left the bar sooner and stopped Sid, he would be alive today.” Bert measured out sugar, vinegar, allspice, cloves, ginger, and some pickling spices and put them in a saucepan along with two cinnamon sticks. “And who knows? Maybe Sid would be alive if Jim had gone after him. But then you could say he might be alive if they hadn’t had the fight or, heck, if they hadn’t gone to the Dixie in the first place. You can’t go second-guessing things like that.”

  Bert turned the gas on under the mixture in the saucepan. “Jim also felt that if he’d gotten to his brother sooner he might have at least seen who was driving the car that hit Sid.”

  • • •

  Shelby stared with satisfaction at the row of glass jars in her refrigerator, filled with green watermelon rind pickles with their slim edges of pink. She’d put Love Blossom Farm labels on them, and they would be ready for the next farmers’ market.

  Shelby spent the rest of the morning outside cleaning out beds and readying them for their cover crop. It didn’t take long before she was hot, tired, thirsty, and very dirty. She’d agreed to meet Kelly for a cup of coffee later in the afternoon—Kelly wanted to discuss the details of her upcoming wedding—and by then Shelby was more than happy to put down her shovel and head inside for a shower.

  She was aching and filthy, but fifteen minutes under the pulsing shower—that was all the hot water her old water heater could crank out at one time—soothed her sore muscles and made her feel like new.

  She threw on a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt and went downstairs. Billy and Amelia’s breakfast dishes had been abandoned in the sink. Billy was over at Jake’s helping him on the farm—something he would moan and groan about if Shelby had asked him to do it—and Katelyn’s mother had picked Amelia up for the day. She was taking the girls to a movie later in the afternoon and for some shopping at a mall forty-five minutes away. Shelby had managed to scrounge up some cash for Amelia’s ticket and for her to buy something inexpensive at the mall.

  Shelby’s cell phone rang as she was pulling into the diner’s parking lot. It was Kelly to say she was running a bit late, but she’d be there shortly. A calving both she and the farmer expected to be routine had run into an unexpected complication, but mother and baby were now doing fine and she only needed to clean up a bit before heading to the diner.

  Shelby shuddered at the thought of the type of cleaning up Kelly would have to do. Being covered in dirt was a little different from being covered in— Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. It was one of the reasons she’d been pleased to lease her pasture to Jake—she didn’t mind getting her hands in the earth, but dealing with animals was a whole other ball game.

  Shelby left her car unlocked and the windows rolled down—people in Lovett didn’t bother much with security. There wasn’t much to steal, and if you really needed something the farmers were quick to help you out. There was a deep vein of generosity in the community that Shelby cherished.

  The diner wasn’t busy—lunch was over and no one was ready for dinner yet. Shelby looked around. She smiled at Jessie Tedford, who was finishing off a piece of the diner’s rhubarb pie, and waved to Earl Bylsma, whom she’d known from St. Andrews for ages.

  A woman was standing at the take-out counter and Shelby realized it was Rebecca Barnstable. Shelby supposed she was picking up a late lunch to take back to the feed store. She watched as Rebecca paid the clerk and turned to go.

  Rebecca passed Shelby’s table, and Shelby put out an arm to stop her.

  “Hello,” Shelby said.

  Rebecca looked not unlike a fish caught on a fisherman’s hook. Shelby half expected her to begin twisting and turning.

  “Hello,” Rebecca mumbled, not meeting Shelby’s gaze.

  “Picking up some lunch?”

  “Yes. Treating myself,” Rebecca said with an edge of bitterness to her voice.

  “The food here is good although it’s not fancy. Not like Lucia’s.”

  Rebecca’s eyes became wary and she edged away from Shelby’s table.

  “You were at Lucia’s last night. How did you enjoy it?”

  For a minute, Shelby thought Rebecca would deny it, but she apparently realized that was futile.

  “It was okay.”

  “Your daughter is lovely,” Shelby said.

  Rebecca jumped as if she’d touched a live wire.

  “How—”

  “We ran into each other in the ladies’ room. The resemblance is quite striking. She’s a beautiful girl.”

  In spite of herself, Rebecca gave a small smile. “She is, isn’t she?”

  Shelby nodded. “You must be very proud of her.”

  Rebecca’s smile widened. “She’s graduated from college and has a good job.”

  Shelby thought she could practically see Rebecca’s chest swell.

  “Why are you keeping her hidden?”

  Rebecca looked at Shelby and laughed. “Why do you think? I know people around here talked when I disappeared. I know they put two and two together. Times have changed but not all that much. At least not here. I don’t want to put my daughter through that.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Besides, she’s not mine anymore. She has another mother, as well as a father—something I wasn’t able to give her.”

  “If she was with you the afternoon your brother, Zeke, was killed, you have to tell the police,” Shelby said as gently as possible. “It gives you an alibi.”

  Rebecca kicked at the table leg. “Why should I tell them when they’ll find out who really did it eventually?”

  “Because they’re wasting tim
e investigating you when they could be looking for the real killer.”

  Rebecca curled her lip. “Ask me if I care.”

  Shelby was shaken by Rebecca’s attitude. She knew there was no love lost between Rebecca and her brother, but you would have thought she’d have some interest in seeing his killer caught.

  Rebecca had an alibi, so she was obviously ruled out as a suspect, and Shelby was left with no further ideas.

  • • •

  Shelby was still a little rattled when Kelly arrived, all smiles, smelling of hay, fresh air, and farm animals.

  “I have some great news.” Kelly slipped into the booth opposite Shelby.

  Shelby eyed the waitress who was fast approaching with her pad at the ready.

  “What can I get you to drink?” the waitress said, slapping some menus down on the table.

  “Just an iced tea for me,” Kelly said, handing back the menu.

  “Same for me.”

  Kelly was practically bouncing in her seat as the waitress walked away.

  “You’re about to burst,” Shelby said. “What is your news?”

  “Seth has agreed to have our wedding at Love Blossom Farm,” Kelly squealed.

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so glad. It’s going to be so much fun.” Shelby frowned. “So, does that mean that Seth finally talked to his mother?”

  Kelly ran a hand through her tangled red curls, dislodging a piece of hay that fluttered to the floor of the diner.

  “Seth said it’s our decision, not his mother’s.”

  “Good for him.” Shelby leaned back as the waitress slid a frosted glass of iced tea in front of her. “I wonder what Mrs. Gregson will say, though.”

  Kelly fiddled with the wrapper from her straw, pleating it between her fingers. “I’m a little scared—scared that she’ll talk Seth out of it.”

  “Seth seems like a man who knows his own mind.”

  “He does, but that woman is like a bulldozer.”

  Shelby giggled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I have this vision of Mrs. Gregson wearing a cocktail dress, a long strand of pearls, and gloves, and sitting atop a giant bulldozer, chewing up the land around the barn at Love Blossom Farm.”

  Kelly erupted in laughter. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

  “Have you decided on a month yet?”

  Kelly wrinkled her nose. “I still have to talk to Seth, but I was thinking May—before it gets too hot.”

  “And after the snow melts . . . hopefully,” Shelby said, remembering one of the terrible winters they’d had when the mounds of snow piled more than a story high in parking lots hadn’t completely melted until nearly the beginning of May.

  “I’d like to make flower chains for my bridesmaids to wear in their hair,” Kelly said, her eyes turning dreamy. “And carry a bouquet of wildflowers.” She scowled. “Mrs. Gregson will probably complain that they exacerbate her hay fever.”

  Kelly grabbed Shelby’s hand. “And you’ll be my matron of honor, of course. And Lancelot can be the ring bearer. If we can get him to behave.”

  Lancelot was Kelly’s golden retriever. He was a high-spirited dog, and Shelby couldn’t quite picture him walking demurely down the aisle.

  “And Amelia as a bridesmaid if she’s willing, and Billy a junior groomsman.” Kelly paused to take a sip of her iced tea. “We don’t want to have a huge wedding party. Seth’s brother will be his best man.”

  “I think both Amelia and Billy would be thrilled to be included.”

  Dear Reader, I think I am almost as excited about this wedding as Kelly is.

  “Enough about me,” Kelly said. “Do the police still think that dreamy neighbor of yours killed Zeke?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything new.” Shelby shivered. “Did I tell you about the note?”

  Kelly leaned forward, her eyes wide. She took her straw out of her iced tea and sucked the liquid out from the bottom. “No. What note?”

  Shelby explained about the paper warning her to keep her nose out of things that had been attached to Bitsy’s collar.

  Kelly drew her breath in sharply. “That’s terrible. Who would do such a thing?”

  “The killer, I suppose.”

  Kelly put a hand on Shelby’s arm. “You have to stay out of things. You could get hurt.”

  “I’ve shown it to the police, and believe me, I have no intention of getting involved any further.”

  25

  Dear Reader,

  I love weddings, don’t you? I like simple ones, fancy ones, small ones, big ones. I’ve heard some people go in for those destination weddings, and I think that’s wonderful if that’s what you want, but to me the most important thing is to be surrounded by family and friends. And how many of your family or friends can afford to fly to one of those exotic Caribbean islands or Hawaii or even Florida?

  I love the idea of a big tent in someone’s backyard or a reception in the church hall where you’ve celebrated so many things—baptisms, communions, confirmations, even funerals.

  Or even standing up in front of the justice of the peace and a meal at the Lovett Diner afterward—there’s nothing wrong with that, either.

  I’m so excited for Kelly’s wedding. I’m going to do everything I can to make it just the way she wants it.

  When Shelby got home, she changed back into her old clothes and headed out to the garden. She ought to have been able to finish the bed she was clearing out before it was time to make dinner.

  Bitsy and Jenkins trotted over to see what she was doing but obviously found it boring, because they soon ran off to chase a rabbit that had dared to cross their field of vision.

  Shelby worked to pull out a particularly tenacious plant, grunting and groaning and sweating profusely. She worked her hand weeder around the roots again and then grasped the plant with both hands. Finally the roots gave way and she went tumbling backward, landing on her rear. At first she was stunned, but then when she realized how silly she must have looked she began to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” a male voice drawled.

  Shelby looked up to see Jake smiling down at her. He held out a hand. She grasped it and let him pull her to her feet. She brushed off the seat of her shorts with an embarrassed grin.

  Shelby heard a noise behind her and Billy ran past, yelling “Hi, Mom” as he went by. He was no doubt headed for the old apple tree he loved to climb.

  “I hope Billy was more of a help than a hindrance today,” Shelby said.

  Jake grinned. “He was great. He’s a hard worker when he puts his mind to it. I hope it’s okay—I gave him a couple of bucks.”

  “That’s very generous of you, considering what he did to your henhouse and the waste of those eggs.”

  Jake shrugged, and stuck his hands in his pockets. “He cleaned it all up, so as far as I’m concerned it’s forgotten.”

  “Have the police been around again?” Shelby asked. The sun was catching her in the eyes and she squinted up at Jake.

  He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “I had my fingerprints taken. An interesting operation, or at least it would have been if I wasn’t scared out of my wits for being suspected of murder.”

  “Why take your fingerprints?”

  “Now that they’ve found the murder weapon they’ve been able to dust it for prints.” He kicked at a loose stone. “Although any criminal worth their salt knows enough to wear a pair of gloves before handling anything that could incriminate them.” Jake gave a short bark of laughter. “Like the murder weapon.”

  “I heard it was a farrier’s hammer,” Shelby said.

  “Really? You mean, the kind they use to make horseshoes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder where the killer came by one of those.”

 
“I thought Ryan Archer might have been the killer, but it turns out he has an alibi. He was at the general store buying beer for a bunch of underage boys.”

  Jake shook his head. “Some people never learn. Ryan’s on probation—he needs to keep his nose clean, and it doesn’t sound like that’s what he’s doing.”

  “I suppose it was a stupid thing to do, but at least he gave himself an alibi.”

  “True. Breaking your probation is a lot less serious than being suspected of killing someone.” Jake scratched his head. “What about that father of his? He would have access to a farrier’s hammer. He probably has a whole bunch of them.”

  Shelby thought back to that afternoon at Jim Harris’s stable when Ryan Archer had had to bring his father a hammer because the one in his truck was missing.

  “Do you know anything about Dick Archer?” Shelby asked.

  “Sorry. Not really. I know people think he’s a bit odd. But I don’t really know him.”

  “I wonder who does.”

  “Your friend Bert seems to know every single person in Lovett.” Jake laughed.

  “Bert did mention Dick Archer. She said the same thing—that he’s considered a bit of an odd duck.” Shelby thought for a moment. “But maybe I should talk to her again. She might know more—maybe something she doesn’t realize could be important.”

  • • •

  Shelby thought about what Jake had said as she scrubbed the dirt out from under her fingernails while standing at the kitchen sink. She’d suspected that Zeke’s murder had been committed by Ryan Archer. But was it possible Ryan’s father had taken Ryan’s side and blamed Zeke for his son being sent to jail?

  Shelby dried her hands, grabbed the phone, and quickly dialed Bert’s number. The phone rang more than half a dozen times, and Shelby was about to end the call when Bert finally picked up.

  There were voices in the background—female. It sounded as if Bert was having a party.

  “I’m sorry,” Shelby said. “It sounds like I’m interrupting something.”

  “Just an impromptu card game with some friends.”