The Clue at Black Creek Farm

by Carolyn Keene

  “Oh, gosh,” I said, trying to look like I’d just remembered something. “I totally forgot that I need to call my dad and tell him I won’t be able to meet him for lunch in half an hour. But I left my phone back at Sam’s. Does anyone have one I can borrow?”

  Bess looked at me, amused. I knew her phone was in her purse, but she’d seen me pull the “borrow your phone” maneuver enough times to know that she should not offer it to me. Lori looked from me to Bess, then reached into her pocket with an easy shrug.

  “Sure, here’s mine,” she said, handing her smartphone over. Success! “Let me just type in the pass code . . . there.”

  “Thanks,” I said sincerely. “I’m just going to, um, take this over there”—I gestured to a picnic table behind a small copse of trees—“so you don’t hear him lecture me about changing plans at the last minute. Soooo embarrassing!”

  Lori and Bess nodded understandingly as I took the phone and darted over to the tables, out of sight. I heard Bess asking Lori a question about her school’s football team as I made my escape. That’s it, Bess, cover for me, I thought as I sat down and looked at the phone. As much as Bess hadn’t wanted to come along on this interview mission, she was doing an amazing job of cozying up to Lori and getting information.

  I went to the phone’s history first: recent calls and voice mails. There was one voice mail from yesterday, but when I listened to it, it was just a classmate asking Lori for the algebra homework assignment. None of the placed calls looked unusual—all local, within our area code. No familiar names in her contact list aside from Sam Heyworth.

  So I went to texts. There were several from the day before, setting up a meeting with her friend Haley at the library to study after she finished at Black Creek Farm. A couple of texts to her mother, updating her on where Lori was. Nothing seemed unusual, and nothing seemed to contradict Lori’s story that she’d left the greenhouse looking fine—but unlocked. A quick search through her personal e-mails turned up a crush on a classmate named Jason, but no useful information having to do with Black Creek.

  So far there was no proof that anyone at Sunshine Farm had sabotaged Black Creek Farm.

  I hid any signs of my snooping and walked back to Lori and Bess, holding out the phone.

  “. . . I don’t know,” Lori was saying with a shy smile, “maybe he likes me? But it’s so hard to tell. I’ve known him since I was, like, in diapers.”

  “If only boys would tell us what they were thinking, huh?” Bess replied sympathetically. “But maybe that would make it too easy.”

  “Easy is good for me. I like easy,” Lori said. She looked up as I approached. “Did you get your dad?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, he was actually fine with it. Thank goodness!”

  Lori took the phone from my hand with a smile and tucked it back into her pocket. I glanced at Bess and raised an eyebrow, trying to send the message: Did you find out anything suspicious?

  Bess gave a very tiny shake of her head and widened her eyes. No, she seems totally normal. I don’t know what to do.

  I cleared my throat. “Listen, Lori,” I said, “something actually happened at Black Creek Farm yesterday that has Sam kind of rattled.”

  “Really?” Lori looked surprised. “More than just Julie being sick?”

  “Yeah.” I let out a breath. “The thing is, someone vandalized the greenhouse yesterday. Probably sometime after you left. Which was?”

  Lori blinked at me, surprised. “Ah . . . about noon, maybe? Wait, what do you mean, vandalized?”

  “Someone went in there and knocked over all the plants,” Bess explained. “Really tore them up, left a huge mess of broken pots and dirt all over the floor. And he or she left a message,” she added, raising her eyebrows.

  “Message?” Lori looked totally confused. “What kind of message? ‘I hate plants’?”

  “No,” I told her. “Someone wrote out ‘Kill the farm!’ with dirt.”

  Lori lifted her lip in a sneer. “Kill the farm?” she asked. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “Seriously.”

  Lori let a breath out through her mouth. “I don’t even know what to say,” she said. Then her eyes darkened. She frowned, looking up at us. “Wait—do you guys think I did it?” she asked. “Is that why you came over here?”

  I sighed. “Honestly? Yes, it’s why we came over here. But I don’t really think you did it anymore, after talking to you.”

  Lori pinched her mouth to the side, thinking that over. “Good,” she said after a few seconds, “because I would never do something like that to Sam. Gosh, especially now . . .”

  Especially now? I guessed she must mean so soon after the disaster of the buffet dinner. I remembered what Sam had said at the time, that Black Creek Farm needed more CSA members and higher sales. This must be a super-stressful time for the whole Heyworth family.

  “Do you know who would?” I asked. It had been a minute or so since Lori last spoke, and she looked at me blankly, clearly not sure what I meant.

  “Who would what?”

  “Who would do something like that to Sam,” I clarified. “You know, wrecking his greenhouse. Who would hate an organic farm enough to write ‘Kill the farm!’ in dirt on the floor?”

  Lori shook her head. She was looking off into the distance, thinking hard. She wrinkled her nose slightly, like she could just sniff out who might be that crazy, and didn’t like it at all. Then her gaze returned to me, and her expression was blank again.

  “I’m really not sure,” she said.

  She’s hiding something. “But if you had to guess?” I prompted.

  Lori glanced at her shoes and sighed deeply. Then she looked up at me, meeting my eyes with her serious brown ones. “I don’t really know anyone who I think would do this,” she said, “but . . .”

  “But?”

  Lori crossed her arms uncomfortably. “But there’s been some weird tension with Jack, ever since he arrived,” she said finally.

  I glanced at Bess.

  “Yeah, we’ve noticed,” Bess said in a confidential tone. “He seemed kind of upset this morning. Sam had tried to serve some vegetables from the farm at breakfast, I guess.”

  Lori nodded. “Yeah, that’s not surprising. I saw him yesterday, and he was really upset about what happened to Julie. He kept talking about the farm like it was a joke, and the produce was poison or something.”

  “Well, to Julie it was,” I pointed out. Not that I condoned Jack’s mean behavior—but I could understand his worry about his wife.

  “It’s not just that,” Lori said, shaking her head. “He’s always talking about what a bad investment the farm was. He seems really mad that it’s losing money.”

  Hmmmm. “Why would he care?” I asked. “It’s Sam’s money to lose, right?”

  Lori looked really uncomfortable. She glanced down at her hands and brought a finger to her mouth to nibble on the nail. “Well,” she said, “with Sam being sick, you know . . .”

  What?

  “Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. “What do you mean, Sam being sick?”

  Lori dropped her hand and looked at me, surprised. “Sam has cancer,” she said matter-of-factly. “In his throat, I think. He starts chemo in July. Which has made him even more determined to make the farm work now, this year, in case . . .”

  Her voice faded out.

  Everyone was quiet for a minute as I tried to absorb this information. Sam . . . was sick? It made a horrible sort of sense, but it still stunned me.

  And Jack’s worried about his inheritance, I realized with a shock. That’s what Lori thinks.

  My stomach flipped over. Suddenly the argument in the kitchen this morning seemed much nastier than I’d first assumed.

  “Wow,” Bess whispered finally, and I looked at her and nodded.

  “Wow,” I echoed. “Well, one thing’s for sure. This case is even more important now. Whoever’s sabotaging Black Creek Farm had better watch out . . . because I don’t care what it take
s. I’m going to find them!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  One Man’s Dream

  “DO YOU STILL WANT TO go home?” I asked Bess as we walked back up the road toward Black Creek Farm. “I’m going to be here for a while, I think. Maybe it was silly of me to try to get you to come with me to talk to Lori. I could drive you home and come back. . . .”

  Bess put her hand on my arm, stopping me. “Don’t be silly, Nancy,” she said. “Of course I’m going to stay. I’m invested now.”

  She smiled at me, and I smiled back. “I really want to solve this,” I said softly, knowing that I didn’t really need to say it.

  “We will,” Bess said, looking like she didn’t doubt it for a minute. “Of course we will, Nancy. When’s the last time Nancy Drew didn’t solve her case?”

  I nodded but let out a little sigh. It was true, I had a good track record. But it wasn’t like I never screwed up. And I can’t afford to screw up this one, I thought.

  The Heyworths’ house was quiet when we got back. I knocked gently on the front door, and Abby answered, holding her finger in front of her mouth in the universal be quiet gesture. “Sam’s napping,” she said quietly. “Or as he puts it, ‘lying down.’ He’d never admit that he needs a nap in the afternoon these days.”

  I glanced at Bess. Because he’s sick, I wanted to say. But now seemed like the wrong time to bring it up. Bess nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Oh, you girls must be starving!” Abby said suddenly. “I just realized the time. Won’t you come into the kitchen with me? I can make you sandwiches.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen, then paused and said over her shoulder, “All store-bought ingredients, I promise.”

  Bess and I chuckled awkwardly.

  “I actually wish we could eat some of the produce from the farm,” I said as we filed into the kitchen and took seats at the old farmhouse table. “It all looks delicious.”

  “It is,” a new voice said, and we turned to see Julie entering from the same door we’d just come in, holding a paperback. “Sorry to startle you! I was just reading on the porch and heard voices. I thought I’d come in and see if I might get a cup of tea.”

  Abby turned to her with a warm smile. “Julie, you know you don’t have to ask,” she said. “If I can’t get my daughter-in-law and the future mother of my grandchild a cup of tea, then I’m not good for much, am I?”

  Julie smiled and walked over, giving Abby a quick hug. “Thanks, Mom,” she said.

  Julie came over to the table and settled down in a chair at the end. “How are you girls?” she asked, brushing her long hair behind her ear and placing her book down on the table. “Did Sam take you to see the greenhouse?”

  “He did,” I said with a nod. “It’s—terrible.”

  Julie snorted. “I can’t imagine what would inspire someone to do that,” she said. “An organic farm? This whole thing is just so weird.”

  “Very weird,” Bess said with a nod. “And . . .”

  She came to a sudden, awkward stop. I met her eye and could tell that she’d been about to say something along the lines of, And with Sam sick . . .

  I cleared my throat, looking from Julie to Abby. “Um, listen . . . I don’t know whether we’re supposed to know this or not. . . .”

  I trailed off, and Abby turned around from the counter where she’d been making cold-cut sandwiches. Julie looked at me curiously.

  I took a deep breath. “. . . but Lori mentioned that Sam has cancer,” I finished.

  Abby’s eyes dimmed. Julie looked down at her hands.

  “It’s true,” Abby said quietly. “I’m sorry—we weren’t trying to keep it from you. Sam doesn’t like to tell anyone he doesn’t have to.” She paused, then snorted. “He doesn’t want anyone to treat him with pity, he says. He wants to be treated like he’s totally capable until he . . . isn’t, anymore.”

  Bess and I exchanged sad glances. “We’re very sorry to hear it,” said Bess.

  “It was a big blow to the family,” Julie said, nervously twirling her hair around her finger. “Coming right after Sam opened his dream farm, and with the first grandchild on the way . . .”

  “It’s dreadful timing,” Abby said with a rueful laugh, leaning over to place plates holding turkey-and-swiss sandwiches in front of me and Bess. “But from what I gather, cancer is known for its terrible timing.”

  I nodded slowly. “I—will he—” Will he be okay? was what I wanted to ask. But I realized halfway through the question that it was insensitive. What if the answer was no?

  Abby looked at me with understanding. “He starts chemo in July,” she said gently. “It has a good chance of shrinking or eradicating the cancer. But of course, no one can say for sure.”

  I picked up my sandwich and took a tiny nibble. I wasn’t feeling terribly hungry, actually. I glanced at Bess and saw that she was taking the same small, polite bites that I was. Funny how bad news can destroy your appetite.

  Abby sat down at the table, putting on an enthusiastic expression. “Did you find out anything today, girls?” she asked hopefully. “Do you have any theories about the vegetables?”

  I put down my sandwich, chewing and swallowing carefully as I parsed my words. “We’ve made some good progress,” I said. “George took some vegetables from the farm to be tested for E. coli. We’ll know more when we hear from her.”

  Abby nodded. The teakettle whistled, and she started to get up, but Julie jumped up and headed to the stove before her mother-in-law could push back her seat. “Stay where you are,” Julie said. “I can get my own tea.”

  Abby let out a sigh. She looked tired suddenly and placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands. “We have to catch this person,” she said. “This farm is Sam’s dream. I don’t want anyone to keep him from enjoying it for . . . for whatever time he has left,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word.

  I watched her sympathetically. “Sam told me the farm was losing money?” I said, remembering what Lori had mentioned about the strange tension with Jack.

  Abby pulled her hands away and looked me in the eye. “We’ve been losing money since the farm opened,” she said. “But you know what? I don’t care about money. I’d rather have a farm that loses money but makes Sam happy than have him working a job that makes us lots of money, but he hates.”

  How to say this? “It . . . sounds like Jack doesn’t feel the same way,” I said carefully.

  Julie was bringing her tea back to the table, and she and Abby met eyes and exchanged a knowing look as she pulled back her chair and sat down.

  “I wish I could say that wasn’t true,” Abby said. “But . . .”

  Julie carefully sipped her tea. “They’re so much alike,” she said simply, “Jack and Sam.”

  “They always have been,” Abby agreed, her eyes growing warm with the memory. “Sometimes, I think that’s why they butt heads.”

  Julie turned back to me and Bess. “They’re both so stubborn,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Men!”

  Abby laughed.

  “So unreasonable,” Julie added with a smile, sipping her tea again. She leaned back in her chair and added, “And I think Jack was a little hurt when Sam decided to give up practicing law.”

  “Why?” Bess asked curiously.

  “Because Jack is a lawyer too. He followed in his father’s footsteps,” Abby explained.

  “And I think,” Julie went on, “that when Sam announced that he didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore—that he no longer saw value in that—Jack viewed it as a rebuke.”

  Abby nodded slowly. “On some level,” she said, “I think Jack thinks his father has chosen this farm over him.”

  Julie looked uncomfortable. “In some ways that’s true,” she said quietly, gazing down at her tea.

  Abby glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

  Julie shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. “Oh, you know,” she said lightly. “I don’t feel this way. But you could argue t
hat Sam’s spending money on the farm that Jack might have inherited someday. Anyway, I’m sure Jack will come around.”

  Abby stared at Julie in surprise, and Bess met my eye with an Oh no, she didn’t sort of expression. Everything got really quiet. But Julie just kept sipping her tea, as if nothing incredibly awkward had just been said.

  Thank goodness my phone beeped right at that moment, cutting the silence. I reached into my pants pocket and pulled it out, excited to see a text from George.

  “Oh! This is from my friend who had the vegetables tested,” I said eagerly. “She says . . .”

  I read the text out loud.

  “ ‘Rashid says the veggies were “crawling with” E. coli. So the bad guy is working on the farm? Ugh, wish I weren’t working!’ ”

  I lowered my phone and looked up at the faces around me. Bess looked thoughtful; Julie and Abby looked confused.

  “She means the vegetables we picked here on the farm already had E. coli on them,” I explained. “Which would seem to imply . . .”

  “. . . whoever’s contaminating the vegetables is doing it here,” Bess finished for me.

  I nodded. “Right.”

  Abby and Julie still looked mystified. “So they’re doing it on purpose,” Abby said, not sounding entirely sure.

  “It looks that way,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Do you know anyone—anyone at all—who might wish the farm ill? Who’s had access to the plants?”

  Abby seemed to think for a while. “No,” she said finally.

  “Do you have any farmhands?” Bess asked. “Anyone besides Lori and Bob who regularly work on the farm?”

  Abby shook her head. “We can’t afford them on what we’re making,” she said. “Lori comes on weekends, and Bob helps out a few times a week, but other than them it’s just me and Sam tending the crops. And Jack, since he’s been staying here,” she added. She straightened up. “Sometimes we get volunteers from the CSA,” she said, “but we haven’t had anyone out here in weeks.”