“Not really, but what can I do?” Deb’s shoulders sagged as much as her eyes. “I was stupid and now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass, so to speak.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad. I mean, Pete said he didn’t know what the Florida laws are.”
“We’ll see.” Deb stood up a little taller. “But for now, put me to work. You know, I spent my summers here with Albert and Marie, too.”
“Did I know that?” Cam cocked her head.
“I’m sure I told you, but you might have forgotten. It was one of the reasons I wanted you to have that time with them, too. I have only the happiest memories of life here on the farm. Mother—your grandmother Helen—and Aunt Marie had spent their own summers here. When Marie and Albert married they bought the farm from my grandparents.”
“I knew that last part. Albert told me one time.”
“Both my mom and Marie wanted me to have time on the farm to get out of the city and get out of my head. I was such a bookworm as a kid.”
“So was I.”
“I know.” Deb gazed out to the fields beyond the compost area. “And since Albert and Marie didn’t have any children of their own, they got to have me for summers. It was perfect, and I loved being here.”
“Your summers were just like mine, then,” Cam said. “I wish you’d told me, Mom.”
Her mom fixed her gaze on Cam. “I wish I’d done a lot of things different as a mother, honey. But letting you come here to the farm was one of the things I did right. You know my parents died when you were a toddler?”
“The car accident.”
“Yes.” Her mom continued. “Once you were old enough, Marie invited you to spend summers with her and Albert. She wanted to fill the grandparent gap in your life, and she knew your father and I needed to travel for our research.”
“They definitely filled that gap.” Cam smiled wistfully. “Both of them.” She’d had happy summer months with her great-aunt and great-uncle, year after year. “Thank you for letting me come.”
Deb swiped away a tear and cleared her throat. “Don’t you have some work for me to do?”
Chapter 31
“Orson? Really?” Cam stared at William. He’d just returned from his trip into town, and now sat with her and Deb at the dining table at a few minutes before one o’clock.
“Indeed. The neighbor on the other side of the greenhouse, a keen-eyed senior citizen, said she saw a character snooping around the greenhouse that morning.”
“How do you know it was Orson?” Cam asked.
“Tall guy with long arms and lots of teeth? Had to have been him. Oh, and the truck with the Fresh Page logo on the door was a sure giveaway.”
“It would be,” Deb said. The morning spent working physically in the fresh air had erased some of the strain from her face. Her cheeks held color again, and she had a smudge of dirt on her forehead. “What did she mean by snooping around?”
“He tried both doors and appeared to want to look in. Tried to lift the plastic at one of the corners, but it wouldn’t give. According to this lady, anyway.”
“That’s pretty interesting.” Cam drummed her fingers on the table. “Did she know what time it was?”
“Early. She said her paper had just been delivered and that it always lands on her driveway at seven-fifteen.”
“Did you learn anything else?” Cam asked.
“Nothing new. Somebody across the road was complaining about the protesters, though.” William smiled at Deb. “ ‘Organic, schmorganic’ were his exact words.”
“Did the senior citizen say if the police had been by to question her?” Deb asked.
“She said an officer had stopped by but that he only asked about seeing Nicole and Rudin.”
“Maybe that was before I told Ivan about Orson. I need to let him know.” Cam felt for her phone in her pocket.
“You do that,” William said. “Here’s her name and address.” He slid the clipboard across the table to her. “We’ll make lunch, right, Deb?”
Deb glanced at the wall clock. “It’s already one o’clock? My goodness, where did the time go? I was working with Cam all morning and—”
William touched his finger to the dirt on her forehead with a tender smile. “I noticed. And I’m glad.” He stood and extended his hand to his wife.
By the end of the morning, during which she’d weeded three long beds of beans and two of squash, Deb had even seemed to be less bothered by Dasha. Good, hard, mindless work had many benefits, Cam reflected. She’d left Dasha back inside the barn when her mom and she had knocked off work. She didn’t want to rush the détente, but she hoped when Deb saw what a gentle dog he was, she’d get over her fears, at least with him.
Cam checked the clipboard and texted Ivan the woman’s name and address.
She told my dad she saw Orson Page near Nicole’s greenhouse Thurs 7 AM. Just FYI.
She tapped Send and pocketed her phone again. Ivan was bound to be mad at the thought of William gathering evidence. But hey, if Daddy had filled a gap in the investigation, a gap that shouldn’t have been there, Ivan should be grateful.
William and Deb clattered and murmured in the kitchen. Cam felt antsy just sitting still, and they clearly didn’t need her help. She stood and made her way to her computer. She always sent out a reminder about Volunteer Wednesday a couple of days early and hadn’t done it yet. She drafted an e-mail to herself, blind copying her subscriber list. At the end she added, “Don’t forget Saturday is our first share pickup. If I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll see you between nine and noon on June 3! Looking forward to it.” She signed the message and sent it out, then posted to the farm’s Facebook page, too.
“Soup’s on,” William announced from the other room. “Quite literally.”
Cam freshened up in the bathroom and joined her parents. Bean soup steamed in bowls at each place, and a plate of sandwiches sat in the middle of the table.
“Anybody for a beer?” Cam asked.
Deb raised her hand.
William shook his head. “I want to go for a bicycle ride after we eat. I saw you have two in the barn.”
“I do. One is DJ’s, Alexandra’s boyfriend. He’s off on a meditation retreat and he’s storing his bike here. He said it was fine to use it, though.”
“Will you go for a ride with me, Deb?” William asked.
“I think not,” Deb said. “I enjoyed working in the field this morning. I believe I’ll work with Cam again this afternoon. But you go on, dear.”
Would wonders never cease? Cam smiled at her mom as she went to get two beers from the fridge. Deb not only wanted to work with Cam, she used an actual endearment with William. It looked like Cam wasn’t the only Flaherty capable of change.
* * *
Twenty minutes later Cam and Deb stood outside, beer glasses in hand, and watched William ride down the driveway. He stuck up his hand and waved as he turned onto the road.
Cam turned to her mom. “Are you sure you’re up for more farmwork?”
Deb drained her glass. “I didn’t mean farmwork. Will you help me find Geneva?” She stood straight, expectant, looking at Cam.
“Find Geneva? Why?”
“Now that I’ve come clean to the authorities, I want to tell her, face-to-face, that she no longer has a hold over me.” Deb’s hands clenched.
“Wait a sec, Mom. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cam said.
“Good or not, it’s something I feel like I need to do. You in?” Deb headed for the house.
“How are you going to find her? And what if . . .” What if what? What if Geneva had killed Nicole and Carlos? It was possible. Or if Rudin had, and Geneva was with him. “It could be dangerous.”
“I don’t care. I have to do it. And I have an idea about how to find her. You in or not?”
“I guess.” Better not to let her mom go off on a harebrained, risky adventure alone. And hopefully they wouldn’t even be able to find out where Geneva and Rudin were staying.
Inside, Deb brought her iPad, a pad of paper, and a pen to the table, and sat. “They said they were in an Airbnb, right? What are likely towns to look in?”
“If they wanted to be near the water, I’d say Salisbury, Newburyport, or Newbury. Plum Island has land in both those last two towns. If they wanted to window-shop and go to restaurants, then just Newburyport. But let me call Sim, see if Rudin ever picked up his car. They might have already left for Florida.”
Deb glanced up with a frown. “Do you think the police would let them after yesterday?”
“I don’t think the police can make them stay here unless they arrest them, same as with you. But maybe Sim talked to Rudin and learned where he’s staying. Or I could ask Pete.”
“Please don’t do that. He’d want to know why you’re asking. I have the feeling he wouldn’t exactly approve of my plan.”
With good reason. “I have the feeling you’re right. Okay, Sim it is.” Cam tapped the number for SK Foreign Auto. “Hey,” she said when her friend picked up.
“Sup, Cam? Your truck okay?”
“It’s fine. Loved seeing you in the parade yesterday, by the way. But I’m calling to see if you ever heard from Rudin about his car. We’re trying to figure out where he’s staying.”
Sim swore. “I’ve left him three messages. It’s all ready, he just needs to come pick it up. But he hasn’t replied to a single one.”
“I wonder why.”
“Same here. I’d like to get it off the lot. It’s a luxury model, and I have to keep parking it inside at night. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“I’ll bet. And you didn’t ask for his local residence when he left it?”
“I did, but he said he hadn’t found a place to stay yet. Sorry, friend.”
Cam thanked her and disconnected. She shook her head at her mom. “No information. Except that Rudin isn’t returning Sim’s calls about his car.”
“Maybe he’s in jail,” Deb said. “Maybe they had enough to arrest him for Carlos’s murder.”
Cam narrowed her eyes. “I wonder.” She sat at her desk. “I’m going to look for news on him. You keep working on the Airbnbs.” She searched for online news.
A couple of minutes later, from behind her Cam heard Deb say, “Yes. I’m looking for my brother, Rudin Brunelle. I’m afraid we’ve had a death in the family and he’s not answering his calls. I wondered if you could tell me if he’s staying in your apartment. Only because it’s an emergency, of course.”
Cam smiled. It was a good ruse.
“No? All right. Thank you very much for your time.”
Twisting in her chair, Cam caught her mom’s gaze. “Nice.”
“It’s worth a stab.” Deb checked the iPad and tapped another number into her phone.
On the laptop, the only news Cam could find was a brief notice about the death the day before. “An area man was found dead in a Westbury residence Monday,” the lede read. “Police have not revealed the cause of death but are questioning a couple visiting from out of town who have ties to the deceased. The identity of the deceased is being withheld pending notification of the family.”
That was pretty innocuous. Unless they were still questioning Rudin and Geneva, possibly in separate jail cells. Cam decided to poke around for more information about Rudin. She searched, followed up leads, linking his name and Nicole’s, until she hit pay dirt. He’d filed for bankruptcy last month. The article mentioned something about failed real estate deals. That was pretty common in Florida, she thought. Developers bought up land cheap and built cheap houses, and then couldn’t sell them. But what was a pharmacologist doing developing real estate? Unless he’d lost his job and needed the money, maybe. She sat back, thinking. Bobby had said Rudin bought out Nicole’s share in their Florida home. Rudin could have been expecting to make back that money on his other deals but they’d fallen through.
With her success at learning a bit more about Rudin, Cam dove into digging up more information about Geneva Flores, too. It was a fairly unusual name. She had a Facebook page but didn’t seem to spend much time posting or interacting on the social media site. Geneva was tagged in a few pictures that looked like family birthday parties, and it was a big family of people with the same dark hair as Geneva. Cam went back to Google and dug until she saw pictures of Geneva as a ballroom dancer in a stunning red gown cut way up her thigh. She’d apparently won competitions for Latin dancing. One picture of Geneva and her tuxedoed dance partner—definitely not Rudin—was staged in a lush tropical garden.
An idea went sproing! in Cam’s brain. She could almost hear it. She’d Googled Rudin the other day. He was a pharmacologist. In tropical Florida. Where rosary peas grew. Cam had found the tourniquet. Nicole was a heroin user, and maybe Geneva was, too.
What if Rudin had injected Nicole with abrin the morning she died but she thought it was heroin? And if she regularly injected, the autopsy wouldn’t notice one more needle site. If the divorce wasn’t yet final, as Nicole’s husband Rudin would now own the house and property in West Newbury. He must have planned to sell them and pay off his debts.
Both Ivan and Pete now knew about the abrin. All they needed was something to connect Rudin with the poison, and they might have found it in a search of the house. Like his prints or DNA on drug paraphernalia or something else. So maybe Rudin was in jail and that’s why he wasn’t returning his calls. That would be a blessing. At least he wouldn’t be out in the world poisoning others. And that would mean Orson’s activities were innocent. She hoped.
“Only because it’s an emergency,” Deb was saying.
Cam stood, then paced the length of the living room and back. She plopped back in the desk chair again, drained her beer, and returned to the CDC site on abrin, leaning in to read it. Yes. If the poison was injected the toxic effects would act much faster than if it was ingested or absorbed through the skin. That made sense. Anything that went directly into the bloodstream had to act more quickly.
“Really?” Deb said into her phone. “Thanks so much. I appreciate it. No, please don’t tell him. It’s the kind of thing I have to do face-to-face. I’ll stop by and leave him a note if he’s not there.” She nodded, listening. “I see. Thank you.” She disconnected.
Cam hurried to the table. “You actually found him?”
Deb grinned. “And on only the fifth call.” She checked the iPad. “The place is off of Northern Boulevard. On the Basin, the woman said, whatever that means.”
“It’s a tidal inlet between the two branches of land that form the top of Plum Island. They actually look like lobster claws. People paddle kayaks and canoes in the Basin because there aren’t any waves and the water is quiet.”
“Sounds nice. The owner said the house is behind a restaurant called Mad Martha’s.”
“I know exactly where it is.” Cam and Ruth had eaten several delicious meals at the tiny restaurant after walking the Plum Island beach.
“I thought Airbnb offered rooms in people’s houses,” Deb said, standing. “But Rudin rented an entire house. The owner said she lives somewhere else.”
“So it’s just like a regular short-term beach rental. Interesting.”
“You coming?” Cam’s mom took a step toward the door.
“Right now? Geneva might not even be there.” Cam wasn’t sure the visit was such a good idea. What if Rudin wasn’t in jail but was at the house? What if he and Geneva were a team of killers?
“Right now. I want to get this over with.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mom.” In fact, it was a terrible idea. Why had she agreed to help her mom earlier?
“You can come or not come. I’m leaving now.”
Cam swore. “It could be dangerous. Like really dangerous.”
Deb picked up her purse from the shelf where she’d left it and took the rental car keys off the hook.
“Wait!” Cam touched her mom’s arm. “Wait. I’ll come with you.” She couldn’t let her go alone. Cam would send Pe
te a text to let him know the plan. And at least it was two o’clock and broad daylight. “But Daddy doesn’t have a key to the house,” Cam said. “I’m not leaving it unlocked. And I’m in my work clothes. As are you.” She gestured at her grimy shorts and work boots.
Deb made an exasperated sound. “Run and get changed, then. I will, too. We can leave William a key under the mat and text him about it.”
Chapter 32
A light shower had blown in as Cam drove along the causeway toward the long barrier island. Salt marshes stretched out on either side of the road. She’d insisted on driving. She glanced at her mom in the truck’s passenger seat. Deb didn’t appear to be taking in the swooping purple martins feeding on bugs or the elegant, long-necked great blue heron slowly stalking its fishy prey in a salt pool.
“Are you nervous?” Cam asked as they passed the oft-painted, oft-photographed pink Foursquare house where it sat alone in the marsh on the right. The road sloped up and over the bridge before heading down toward Plum Island ahead. Cam rolled down her window to inhale the salty, vegetative smell of the marsh. The wipers on low lazily cleared the windshield, and the few drops that blew in brought a fresh welcome to the seaside.
“A little.”
Cam’s phone let out short beeps indicating it was out of bars. She cursed under her breath. She’d gone to a cheaper cell carrier recently to save money, but the coverage wasn’t as good as some of the major networks. And one consequence was either paying roaming charges or having no connection at times like this. Before they left the farm she’d sent Pete a text with the address of the house and their plan, just in case anything blew up. But now she wouldn’t be able to tell if he responded, and she doubted he had Deb’s cell number. If she’d even brought it.
“Mom, do you have your phone?”
Deb held up her cell without speaking.
A large bird, mostly white from underneath but with black elbows and long, dark feather fingers, soared above them across the road from south to north. A helpless fish wriggled in the iron grip of its enormous talons. “Look, an osprey.” Cam pointed. “They’re incredible. Five-foot wingspan.” The bird flapped its wings with a few powerful strokes. It landed on a nesting platform that rested about fifteen feet above the marsh on a thick pole.
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