Murder Most Fowl

by Edith Maxwell

  Cam pushed back her chair and stretched out her legs. The back of her brain was consumed by all the unanswered questions about Wayne’s death. If in fact Judith hadn’t gone to Wayne’s for breakfast that morning, if she hadn’t slipped the nicotine in his coffee, who had? Paul was there. He could have, especially if his alibi fell through. Greta, of course, had said she’d fixed Wayne’s breakfast. Katie conceivably could have poisoned Wayne, too, but Cam couldn’t believe she would do something like that. Anyone could buy liquid nicotine these days. But how did Judith’s prints and DNA get on the vial if she didn’t do it?

  Cam’s phone rang from the kitchen counter where she’d plugged it in to charge. She checked the ID and saw Ruth’s name.

  “Ruthie, what’s up?” Cam said.

  “Thought you’d like to know we made an arrest in your vandalism case.”

  “Really?”

  “You were right, it was that Tam Haskell. He was part of the Laitinen incident, too. Seems he’s a young mastermind of sorts in this extremist group.”

  “I’m glad he’ll be off the streets. He seemed to have two sides to him. When I first met him, he was all polite smiles and helpful. But when he came back looking for his scarf, he almost snarled at me about having Pete’s dog on a leash. I guess in his world all animals would be wild and running free.”

  “Yeah, he mentioned something like that. I’ll tell you, he wasn’t very polite when we apprehended him.”

  “Is Katie Magnusson going to be arrested, too?” Cam asked.

  “We struck a deal with her in exchange for information. She was pretty frightened of Haskell, as it turns out. He’d threatened to hurt her if she identified him.”

  “No wonder she was walking around looking haunted, scared.” The image of Tam’s insincere smile floated in front of Cam’s eyes. “Do you think it’s possible he came back and killed Wayne?”

  “I don’t believe he’s being considered for that. The murder is Pete’s bailiwick, though, as you know.”

  “Of course.”

  “I expect he’s checked Haskell out. I know he was notified of the arrest.”

  “Well, thanks for letting me know about Tam being caught. Hey, remember you were going to bring the girls over this weekend sometime. And maybe we can have a glass of wine and not talk about crime of any kind.”

  Ruth laughed. “Sounds like a plan. How about Sunday?”

  After they disconnected, Cam took another sip of wine. She’d be just as happy if she never saw Tam’s fake smile again.

  After sipping wine while reading a short story in the New Yorker, Cam watched the local news, which included a story of an aggressive coyote attacking people in the next town.

  “The coyote should be considered rabid and dangerous, and anyone who comes into contact with the animal will require medical attention,” the reporter warned in a dire tone. “Groveland residents are advised to keep children and pets indoors.”

  Cam shuddered at the thought of a rabid coyote approaching her in broad daylight and taking a chunk out of her leg, as apparently had happened to a man only a few miles down the road. Maybe she should keep Dasha and Preston indoors tomorrow, too, although she had no idea how far coyotes ranged.

  She swore as she glanced at the table where she’d left the bank statements. She should have called Megan again, but now it was too late. What would Cam tell her, though? That regular payments were going out of the account to a PU? She didn’t know what Megan could do with that information, and Cam didn’t particularly want to be the person delivering it. She would wait until tomorrow, at any rate.

  Cam watched television a little longer, and finally went up to bed at eleven-thirty. Surely the green tea would have worn off by now. She set her phone on the bedside table, changed into her night wear, a long T-shirt worn smooth and thin by years of wear, and slid under the comforter. She was slipping into dreamland, that state where she knew she was still awake but also saw random dream scenes inside her eyelids, when her phone beeped twice in quick succession.

  Her eyes flew open. What was that? It wasn’t her ring tone indicating a call, or the text signal, either. The phone beeped again, two short bursts. She sat up and grabbed it. The new round icon with an eye in it blinked at her. Something had triggered the barn cam. She pressed the icon to bring up the app and stared at it, her palms cold and clammy. Despite Tam having been apprehended, it could be a different intruder. It could even be Wayne’s murderer if the police were wrong about Judith.

  In the picture, the floodlight had come on. It illuminated the area around the door, but the camera didn’t show anyone. The video wasn’t the best she’d ever seen, likely a direct consequence of how little she’d paid for the device. Cam groaned. Should she get dressed and go out there? According to Ruth, it shouldn’t be more chicken vandals, if Tam was indeed the ringleader. And sure, Wayne’s killer might still roam at large, but why would he or she be coming after Cam? She rolled over to the far side of the double bed and sat up, gazing out the window that overlooked her back door. That motion-triggered light wasn’t on, although the waning moon shone yellow and still presented a fat profile as it rose over the maple in the yard.

  The wind must have picked up since she came home. The sound of it in the trees roared like an armada of tractors rumbling over her fields. But there were no trees in front of the door to the barn. That wouldn’t have triggered the light and the camera. The pulse in her neck beat double time. She looked at the phone again.

  As she watched, a small shadowy figure crept across the screen. A four-legged figure. Cam let out a breath. And a moment later, over the noise of the wind, a high mournful cry pierced the night. A coyote was her culprit. It howled again, and then uttered short barks, raising goose bumps on her scalp. Coyotes, most of whom weren’t rabid, were even fiercer hunters than foxes. At least all her hens were safe inside, as were the chicks. She set her bare feet on the cold floor and lifted the sash for a moment.

  Answering barks called out from the woods as well as another far-off howl, triggering one more ululation from the animal outside her barn, the cry fluttering and then rising to a sharp finish. She slammed the window closed and locked it, then dove back under the covers, pulling the fluffy comforter over her head. She didn’t want that terrifying sound to disturb her sleep. Although, a coyote lurking was certainly better than a malicious human up to no good.

  Chapter 28

  Saturday dawned sunny. When Cam checked the outdoor thermometer, it was still cold, and a brisk wind blew the trees toward the south. Cam yawned, then popped the last bite of her peanut butter toast into her mouth, washing it down with the last gulp of French roast. Between the coyote cam and the green tea, it had been a short night. But the life of a farmer didn’t allow indulgences like sleeping in.

  Instead of tilling this morning she’d resolved to move the coop and the fencing out onto part of a field where she’d planted winter rye. The cover crop was green and vigorous, and if she didn’t deal with it now, it would grow tall and thick and be harder to till under later. But if she let the hens roam over it, they would turn the organic material back into the soil for her, and add their own fertilizer, as well. Moving the coop would mean a longer trek twice a day to let them in and out and to feed and water them. At least the weather was on its sure path to eventual warming.

  After she’d sent Alexandra a text asking for help this morning, Alexandra had texted right back that she’d be over shortly. Sure enough, as soon as Cam stepped outside, Alexandra rode up on her bicycle.

  “No loaner car today?” Cam asked, trotting down the back steps as she pulled on her gloves. Preston ambled out of the house while Dasha ran down ahead of Cam and headed straight to the barn door.

  “Nope, the ’rents are coming back today and Katie’s going to pick them up at the Manchester airport.” Alexandra’s cheeks were pink from her exertion in the cold. Cam’s farm sat at the apex of Attic Hill and it was a steep uphill ride.

  “How’s Katie doing?”


  “Eh. She’s my sister.” She set the bicycle on its kickstand and hung her helmet from the handlebars. She glanced toward the back of the property. “Let’s get this job done.”

  “Sure.” Cam knew what it was like not to want to talk for long about a difficult topic. “I’ll move the truck around to the coop. Can you start dismantling the fencing? We’ll throw it in the back and set it up again once the coop is situated.”

  Dasha was sniffing all around the barn door. He looked up and barked.

  “Smell that coyote, do you, Dash?” Cam said.

  “You had a coyote? Was it that rabid one from Groveland?”

  “I don’t know if it was rabid or not.” Cam pointed upward. “See that little thing? It’s a camera. I installed it yesterday.”

  “Wise move.” Alexandra grinned. “With all the trouble you seem to attract.”

  “Yeah. What can I do?” Cam frowned. “I was going to keep the animals inside today, I just remembered. Dasha, come here, boy.” She patted her leg.

  Dasha trotted over to the bushes at the side of the yard and took a leak, then came to Cam’s side.

  “Good boy. Preston,” she called as she slipped her fingers under Dasha’s collar. “Be right out,” she said to Alexandra, then headed for the house, Preston following at his usual amble. On the back porch, she persuaded Dasha to go in and held the door open for Preston.

  He hesitated on the bottom step, glancing around.

  “Preston, come on,” Cam urged.

  When an old blue Civic pulled into the drive, he dashed into the house. Cam gave a wave to Lucinda as she climbed out of the car, then went into the house to make sure the cat door was closed. It didn’t do much good to shut Preston in the house if he could go right back out at will. She locked the back door and clattered down the stairs. Lucinda stood talking with Alexandra. A warm feeling rose up in Cam. How lucky was she to have these women as friends? They were fun, hardworking, and generous with their time.

  “We working today or what?” Lucinda called with a smile.

  “Sure,” Cam said. “Glad you showed up. What do they say, many hands make work light?”

  “I think it’s many hands make light work. Same difference.” Alexandra’s blue eyes twinkled.

  “Speaking of trouble, Ruth called me last night. She said Tam was arrested for leading the vandalism here and on Wayne’s farm.”

  Alexandra wrinkled her nose. “Good riddance. Maybe now Katie can get her act together. That guy had too much influence over her.”

  Lucinda looked from one to the other. “Who’s Tam?” Her curly black shoulder-length hair was particularly wild today, forming a mane that rose up from her head, with tendrils tangled every which way.

  “He’s the animal rights radical who vandalized Wayne’s farm. And mine.”

  “Glad they got him,” Lucinda said.

  “Ruth said they’re not going to arrest Katie,” Cam said.

  “No, thank goodness.” Alexandra shook her head. “She told them everything she knew. She finally got hold of my dad’s lawyer, and it looks like she’ll only get probation or something.” Alexandra pointed to the camera. “So is that wireless, with an app that controls it?”

  “Exactly. And it works, too. The motion light came on last night and I got an alert from the camera. I was worried, but it turned out to be a coyote, not a human. And boy, was it howling. Barking, too, sort of.”

  “Dude, I’ve heard them.” Alexandra shuddered. “Creepy, isn’t it? They’re wicked bad carnivores.”

  “So what’s on the schedule today?” Lucinda asked, rubbing her gloved hands together.

  “We’re going to move the coop and the fence back to a field where the hens can work for me turning under a cover crop. I’ll move the truck. You both can start pulling up the fencing.”

  At their agreement, Cam climbed into the truck, driving it around the back of the barn and backing it up near the coop’s trailer hitch. Twenty minutes later the three women had the wire fencing detached from its posts and rolled into the back of the truck, and all but one of the metal posts pulled out, too. Cam grabbed the last post and worked it back and forth until she could pull it out of the ground. She had kept the hens latched inside the coop even though she knew they’d rather be out in the daylight.

  “Now, I’ve never attached the trailer before, but I looked at a video online. Should be easy. Direct me when I get there, okay?” She climbed back into the cab and shoved it into reverse.

  Alexandra directed her back until the ball sticking out behind the license plate was under the half-hemisphere ball cup of the trailer hitch. Cam climbed out and cranked down the vertical support the trailer hitch rested on until the ball nestled in the cup, then folded down the lever that locked it in place.

  “Just like in industry.” Cam straightened. “As Uncle Albert used to say.” A blue jay perched on top of the coop and emitted its metallic seesawing cry.

  “What are those chains for?” Lucinda asked, pointing to two heavy chains attached to the hitch. The chains ended in big S hooks.

  “Oh, yeah. Those are supposed to cross over underneath and hook to those holes next to the trailer ball. In case the whole thing detaches on the highway.”

  “Highway? I thought we were going out back to a field.”

  Cam laughed. “We are. Know what? I’m going to attach them, anyway.” She leaned over and hooked each chain through its hole. “If we were going on the highway we’d need brake lights and such, too, but I don’t need those here.” She headed back to the cab. “Give me a shout if it turns over or anything. And follow me out. Alexandra, can you grab a couple of hammers from the barn?”

  Cam started the truck and gradually let the clutch out, feeling the pull of the heavy wagon behind as she accelerated. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Alexandra holding up two thumbs, so she steered for the wide central path leading back to the field where she wanted to situate the coop. As long as she stayed on this beaten-down path, which she mowed in the summer, she didn’t think the truck would get stuck in the thawing soil. In the mirror she saw Lucinda following along with one hand on the coop to steady it. The Ford bumped along until she neared the band of woods at the back. She shoved the gearshift into reverse and turned the wheel, maneuvering the trailer onto the greening field. Alexandra strode up.

  “Uh, barn’s locked.”

  “Right.” At Alexandra’s questioning look, Cam went on. “Bobby came by and installed locks for me after the vandalism.” She pulled the keys out of the truck. “Catch,” she said, tossing them to Alexandra.

  A moment later Alexandra was back with two heavy hammers. “Fencing, anyone?”

  Working together, it didn’t take more than an hour before they had attached the five-foot-high fencing to the hooks on the posts and reattached the simple gate into the area. Cam grabbed a roll of fishing line out of the truck.

  “Now that the hens are out here, I’m going to run fishing line across the top. Apparently it keeps the hawks from picking them off. Help me? If you’re on opposite sides outside, I can walk it back and forth inside.”

  Lucinda and Alexandra positioned themselves as Cam brought the line across, looped it around a fence post, and then walked it to the other side, zigzagging back and forth until the top was covered. At the end she had to stoop to move around.

  “Maybe I should have made the fence taller than I am. Too late now.” She laughed as she opened the coop door, then pulled the ramp down to the ground.

  “Come on, girls. I know it was a bumpy ride, but you’re going to love it out here.” She stepped back, hunching her shoulders and head to avoid the line.

  Hillary’s head appeared in the opening, after which the lead hen hopped down the ramp. It wasn’t long before all the rest were shoving their beaks into the soil holding the rye, scratching at it with their feet, and generally looking like they were enjoying finally being sprung into the cool but sunny spring air.

  Cam made her way out the g
ate, then held up her palms and high-fived Alexandra and Lucinda. At least something was going right.

  Megan climbed out of her car in the Maudslay parking lot a little after eleven. She waved at Cam and walked toward her.

  “Megan, thanks for your call,” Cam said. “Dasha and I could use a good walk.” After Lucinda and Alexandra had left, Megan had returned Cam’s call and suggested a walk at Maudslay, to which Cam readily agreed.

  “Thought we ought to talk in person.” Megan stuck her hands in her pockets. Her face looked less ravaged by grief, but there still wasn’t much light in her eyes.

  “Fine with me. As long as you don’t mind me in my work clothes.” Cam gestured to her worn jeans and work jacket.

  “Of course not.”

  The two women and Dasha headed down the path toward the road and then crossed to follow the wide former carriage trail that led toward the Merrimack River. They walked in silence for a few minutes until they reached the stretch lined with tall antique rhododendron bushes.

  “Did you learn anything from those bank statements?” Megan asked.

  Cam glanced over at her, but Megan’s eyes focused straight ahead. “You must have seen that it was your father’s personal account. It didn’t have your mom’s name on it.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you look closely at the papers? Or show them to Greta?”

  Megan shook her head. “I’d heard them argue about the money my dad’s great-aunt left him. And one time, not that long ago, Daddy looked really upset when he got home when I was over there. Mom was out, and he shoved a stack of papers in his desk drawer. He saw me watching him and asked me not to tell Mom about it.”

  “And you didn’t.”

  “No, of course not. But after he died, I went looking for them. And then I was afraid to study them, so I brought them to you, even though I didn’t want to keep a secret from my mother. That sounds confused, doesn’t it?”