The Pea Soup Poisonings

by Nancy Means Wright

  She broke into a run, taking the left fork. She heard Chloe’s voice calling from a distance behind her. But the woman would never be able to catch up in those spike heels.

  Far behind, she heard Cedric’s voice. He would have discovered that she was gone. She ran on, taking another fork in the path. He wouldn’t know which fork she had taken.

  The path ended suddenly at a stone wall. It would be hard to scale it with her hands tied. But she managed to loosen the rope a bit on a sharp twig. She wedged her feet in the crevices and propelled her body up and onto the top. She lay there panting. She could hardly move; her legs and arms were paralyzed with fear.

  But she had to keep moving; she had to escape, to call the police. She had to save Spence.

  She pulled herself up and staggered along the top for a few yards. She could do it, even with her hands tied. She’d show Kelby!

  But she had to get back home, if she was to show him.

  Hearing Cedric’s voice again, and closer, she jumped down and found herself in a cow pasture. A dozen brown Jersey cows were grazing in a field. They all turned to stare at her. “Excuse me, ladies,” she said, and stumbled past them, hardly feeling her legs. One of them bellowed. Where there were cows, she knew, there must be people.

  She ran on through daisies, burdock and thistle. The Adirondack Mountains rose purply-blue in the west; she sensed that she wasn’t far from Lake Champlain. She couldn’t hear Cedric’s voice – he might have taken the wrong fork. She was out of breath, her chest pained from running. Her eyes, too, were running, her allergies again. There was a wagon full of hay in front of her. And beyond it, a red barn. She lurched toward it, and burst, exhausted, through the double doors.

  Inside, a woman in blue jeans was cleaning out a stall. She wheeled about, startled, to see Zoe.

  “Good heavens, child. Where have you come from? What are you doing with your hands tied like that?”

  Zoe sank down on her knees. She was too dazed to talk. She could only hold out her bound hands, and the woman cut through the rope with a pair of shears.

  After that everything was a blur. Zoe was in a farmhouse kitchen, seated at a table with a yellow checkered cloth, drinking milk and munching a chicken sandwich. It tasted wonderful. The woman was kind, concerned; she wanted to hear what had happened to Zoe. She wanted to know if she should call Zoe’s parents.

  “Oh yes, please,” cried Zoe. “But wait – I have to talk to the police first. I need to give them a license number. Where are we now? What town are we in?”

  “This is Shelburne Falls, dear. We’re in the country, but not far from the city of Burlington.”

  “Then call the police, please. The Branbury police department. And hurry! The kidnappers still have my friend, Spence.” She wrote down the plate number on a paper napkin. Her hands were shaking from nerves and fatigue. The chief promised to send out officers at once. “And they’re the ones who killed Agnes Fairweather,” Zoe cried. “I’m sure of it. I can’t prove it yet, but give me time.”

  Although there was hardly any time left, she realized. It was already three o’clock. By tomorrow midnight her time would be up.

  The chief was still talking, saying how relieved they were that she was all right. Saying what a good job she’d done to help locate the kidnappers. A police car would come by shortly to pick her up at the dairy farm and take her back to the police station. Her parents were frantic and wanted to see her. The police had more questions to ask about the kidnappers.

  “I can’t go home yet!” she cried. “I have to find Spence. You need me to help find that white car. To identify the rogues!”

  “Well,” said the chief, “well...”

  “Please,” Zoe begged. She handed the phone to the farm woman, who gave directions to her farm. The husband came in, “dying of thirst,” he said, his face was tomato-red. He nodded at Zoe as though he was used to seeing her there in his kitchen. She watched him gulp down three large glasses of iced tea and lemonade with hardly a pause.

  She drank half a glassful herself. But put it down when a car swung into the driveway and a cheerful-looking female officer with honey-colored hair and eyebrows said that Zoe should come at once. Now that they had the description of the kidnappers’ car, the officer was sure they would close in on it soon. The Branbury chief had agreed that Zoe could come along, on condition she would not get out of the car.

  “You should keep down low in the seat,” Officer O’Hare warned. “We’re an unmarked car, but that couple might be dangerous.”

  “They might hurt Spence,” Zoe agreed. “So please hurry before they get to the Game Farm. They might put him out in the bushes with the lions and tigers!”

  The officer looked at her blankly. “Lions and tigers?”

  “And bears and elephants. They won’t hurt him, but the hunters will.”

  For Zoe knew now what the kidnappers were doing with Aunt Thelma’s farm. They were turning it into a game farm where people could hunt the animals and take home their pelts as trophies. That was what her parents had been talking about after that TV newscast.

  And if Spence were turned loose in the woods, he, too, could be hunted down!

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A Dropped Shoe

  When Cedric got back from chasing Zoe he was in a fury. Spencer saw his dark eyes bulge, a muscle throb in his neck.

  “You n-numbskull!” he yelled at Chloe. “You idiot! Now you’ve done it. Now you’ve let the c-cat out of the bag. The girl will go back and blab, we’ll have the police on our tail, and our plans will be wrecked. And all because of y-you. You!” He pointed an angry finger.

  Chloe was mad, too. She teetered on her red heels; her face was as red as the shoes. She pointed a finger right back at Cedric.

  “Our plans were wrecked when you kidnapped those kids. I told you that was a dumb thing to do. Now we’ll go to jail if they catch us.”

  “If they catch us,” said Cedric, pulling himself up to his full height. Spence could only look at his huge, stump-like legs in their worn jeans.

  “Now listen,” he said. “There’s no life around here. It’ll take an hour for the girl to find a house. So g-get in the car. We’ll hide it at the f-farm, pick up the truck and take off for Canada till things cool down. Get that k-kid in the back. And keep his bloody head down!”

  Spence climbed back in. He almost smiled. Zoe had gotten away! Remembering the old Hansel and Gretel fairy tale, he kicked off a shoe; someone would find it he hoped, know he’d been here.

  Then he was sorry he’d done that. He might need the shoe. Zoe would lead the police to this spot anyway, wouldn’t she? She’d pick up the shoe?

  The farm, he thought, as the car jolted off. That’s where they were headed. The farm where they were going to keep the tigers and lions. Was that Miss Thelma’s farm?

  He wished he’d had time to leave a note. “Thelma Fairweather’s Farm,” he would have written. “In the north.” But where in the north? East or West? Well, Miss Thelma would give them directions when Zoe got to the police. If Zoe got to the police. She could be lying, hurt, in the woods somewhere. This was a wild and lonely countryside. There could be wolves and wildcats lurking about.

  And what would the kidnappers do with him when they took off for Canada? They wouldn’t want him to tag along. What then? He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to pretend he was just sitting in his room, safe in his bean bag chair. He could almost hear his mother downstairs, playing the piano, in between lessons. She was a good pianist, his mother. She should be playing with some symphony orchestra. Although she’d tried. She always complained that some younger person got the piano solos. Now she was waiting for him to play in an orchestra. So she could tell friends: ‘My son is a concert cellist…’

  But he didn’t think that was going to happen. He’d rather play hockey. Or chess with his dad. One thing he didn’t want to do again was to play at being a detective. No way. If they got out of this alive, Zoe would have to be on her own.
r />   The car sped along at a breathtaking speed; it might be going eighty, ninety miles an hour. Chloe was shouting at Cedric to “Slow down! You want the cops on us? That’s a good way to get caught. With this kid here in the back? Lemme untie his hands, okay, Ced? In case we get stopped?”

  “Leave ’em tied,” Cedric growled, but the car slowed down a little.

  There was more traffic now. Spence sensed they were on a thruway. The thruway, he knew, wound around the city of Burlington. Maybe that’s where Thelma’s farm was – just north of Burlington. There was an address on the letter in his pocket, but he couldn’t get into his pocket, not with his hands tied. Anyway, he didn’t want Chloe to see the letter.

  They kept speeding along, swerving in and out of traffic. Soon they were leaving the thruway; the traffic was quieter, there weren’t any sirens or honking horns. He couldn’t hear any other cars at all. Where were they? Would they skip the farm altogether and just head for Canada?

  If so, Zoe and the police would never find them. Canada was a vast wilderness, parts of it anyway. They would hide him there among the moose and the bears and the huge silent trees and lakes. They would leave him there to starve, with his hands still tied so he couldn’t forage for berries or wild roots.

  No one would find him. Ever.

  “Jeezum,” he whispered to himself and a tear squeezed out. “Jeezum...”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  In Pursuit

  “White Honda Civic with Vermont plates CCQ258 sighted on Route 2. Heading northwest,” the officer’s radio crackled, and the unmarked car veered sharply to the right.

  Zoe was sitting in back, clutching Spence’s blue sneaker. She’d spotted it when she led the sergeant back to the turn-off where she’d escaped. What did it mean: a single shoe dropped in a patch of weeds? She was afraid to think.

  A low causeway loomed up ahead and they swung across it. On either side the water lapped calm and blue-gray. A girl in a canoe drifted lazily along as though she had all the time in the world to get to where she was going. As though all was well with the world.

  When it wasn’t. When Spence was still in danger.

  Sergeant O’Hare saw Zoe’s concern. “Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll just follow at a distance. Let the kidnappers lead us to their destination before we stop the car. We’ll be sure your friend is safely out of the way before we close in.”

  The sergeant sounded confident. Still Zoe worried. Things could go wrong. In the movies things always went wrong before they got better. Sometimes they didn’t get better.

  “He’s heading up toward Alburg. Toward Canada,” the radio reported. “We’ve warned them at the border.”

  “Alburg!” Zoe cried. “That’s the place. That’s where Miss Thelma’s farm is. The one they want to turn into a game park.”

  Zoe explained about the letters, how the kidnappers were planning to turn Round Hill Farm into a place where people with guns could hunt down the tired old animals.

  “And then skin them and hang the pelts on the wall for trophies,” she said, feeling outraged.

  The sergeant flung up a blue arm. “Hey! That’s illegal.”

  “It’s more than illegal. It’s wrong,” cried Zoe. “Those poor animals wouldn’t have a chance to get away. They’re not in their native habitat. You’ve got to stop them!”

  “You can betch your life, we will,” said Sergeant O’Hare. She radioed Zoe’s partial address on to the lead cop car.

  The voice came back. “Can she remember the full address?”

  Zoe thought. And thought. But couldn’t recall. She’d only glanced at the deed Thelma had taken from her safe deposit box. She only remembered the Alburg part. The name had reminded her of a burger. “Veggie burger, hamburger, turkey burger,” she recited in her head. But nothing more would come.

  “Keep trying.”

  “I will. If only Miss Thelma were here, she’d know.” She tapped Sergeant O’Hare on the shoulder. “We can call Thelma. She’ll know! Or the Bagley sisters will. But I don’t know their number.”

  “We have to keep moving, kid. We have to keep following that car. It might not be headed for Alburg at all.”

  They drove on mile after mile, past ice cream parlors and pastures full of cows. Past Kentucky Fried Chickens and Veggies-for-Sale- stands. Past Elm Streets and Maple Streets and Lincoln Ways and Cow Hill Lanes. James Road, Cider Mill Road, Ridge Road.

  “Ridge Road,” she said aloud, “that’s it! That was the address on the deed. I don’t remember the number, but the farm is on Ridge Road. Ridge Road in Alburg.”

  “Good girl,” said the sergeant, pushing a wisp of honey hair out of her eyes. “We’ll take a chance on that. Let the others keep after the car.” She radioed the message to the other police cars and pressed down on the gas. She was originally from this area, she said, she knew a perfect shortcut.

  Zoe felt the thrill of the chase fill her throat, crawl up her spine. On and on they sped, twisting this way and that, until finally the car pulled into a long winding drive. Two white silos loomed up on the right, a long red barn with a cupola. A sign read ROUND HILL FARM: Holsteins, Merino Sheep. On the left was a white farmhouse with a wide saggy porch in need of paint. An ancient blue truck was parked in front of it. Sure enough, a round green hill rose up behind the barn.

  But no lions or tigers or chimps – at least, none were visible. Only three hungry-looking black and white cows stood motionless just beyond the barn.

  Of course the kidnappers hadn’t opened up the game park yet. They were waiting for Thelma to hand over the land. Or die.

  Zoe’s heart lurched at the thought. At this very moment someone, an unknown partner of the kidnappers perhaps, could be hunting for Thelma. She hadn’t thought of that. A third partner?

  The sergeant parked the car behind the barn. She didn’t want the kidnappers spotting it when, that is – if they drove in.

  “Wait in the car, stay low,” she told Zoe, and she edged around to the side of the barn. Zoe saw that she had a gun in her holster.

  A short time later Zoe heard a car pull in. Instinct told her it was the kidnappers. She couldn’t bear to wait inside a police car. She got out quietly and ran to the other side of the barn where the sergeant wouldn’t see her. It was the white car all right; it was stopped in front of the farmhouse. And there was Spence in the back seat, his hands still tied! Chloe got out first. She yanked on Spence’s arm.

  “Spence,” Zoe hissed – but to herself, she mustn’t warn them. “Spence,” she whispered again, and as though he’d heard her he looked toward the sound of her whisper.

  “Move away from them,” her inner voice said. And again, Spence hobbled away, on one shoe, toward the barn.

  “Where you going? Over here!” Cedric cried, and Spence just stood there, as if disoriented. Chloe went over to pull him back and then Sergeant O’Hare ran forward, brandishing her gun and yelling at the kidnappers that they were “Under arrest!” The policewoman had a big voice for her slim body.

  Chloe grabbed Spence’s arm, but Zoe raced out from the side of the barn and yanked him away.

  “Get back!” the sergeant called to Zoe, and she did. But she had Spence. She hugged him until he cried out.

  “I can’t hug back,” he said. “My hands are tied.” She picked up a sharp stone to set his hands free.

  After that it was chaos: two more police cars roaring up and skidding to a stop on the dirt drive. Dust clouding the air, the three cows bellowing. Somewhere, a pair of sheep was bawling, and hens were squawking.

  When Zoe could make out shapes again, Cedric and Chloe were in handcuffs. A second officer called for her and Spence to officially identify the pair as kidnappers, and of course, they did. Zoe felt a little sorry for Chloe who was weeping and wringing her hands, her pretty red shoes all covered with dust. But she wasn’t too sorry.

  “This is what you get for kidnapping kids and old ladies,” Zoe said, striding up to Cedric, hands on her hips. He loo
ked away. Sergeant O’Hare asked him about the game park he was planning to operate on Thelma’s farm. But Cedric just shook his head, feigning innocence.

  “It’s true. I’ve got proof,” said Spence. He drew the letter from the Plum Bush Zoo out of his pocket and read it aloud.

  “Try and deny that,” said Spence, looking pleased with himself. And Cedric couldn’t. In fact they could hardly understand what Cedric said, his stutter was so bad.

  So they had the kidnappers on three charges. Kidnapping Thelma and putting her in the state mental institution. Kidnapping Zoe and Spence. And trying to illegally establish a big game hunting park on land they didn’t even own.

  But the police had no proof that the kidnappers had killed Alice’s grandmother. The Chief back in the Branbury police station that evening shook his head when Zoe insisted that Cedric and Chloe had put the insecticide in poor Agnes Fairweather’s pea soup.

  “We’re working on the case,” the chief said, “but we can’t find any hard evidence. We’ve already sent two men to search the Wolfadders’ rented house, and no cigar.”

  “No what?” said Spence.

  “No malathion, no proof of any kind, except those letters about the game farm,” explained the chief.

  “Which establishes motive,” said Zoe, who’d learned that phrase from watching MYSTERY on public television.

  “Right,” said the chief, impressed with her answer. “But without proof...” He spread his fingers, waggled his head and went back to his desk.

  “We’ll get the proof,” said Zoe as they got into the police car to go home. “Won’t we, Spence?”

  “I guess so,” said Spence, who just wanted to go home and eat and then sleep for fifteen hours. At least he had two shoes to go home with, Zoe reminded him. They were new Reeboks; his mother had warned him to take good care of them.