Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery)

by Edith Maxwell

  “I just threw them together.” Alexandra tossed a braid back over her shoulder.

  “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  Alexandra laughed, a light crystal peal. She straightened her already perfect posture. “Now. Out with the story.”

  Cam relayed her tale, right down to the Civic driver who made her say who the president was and how many fingers he was holding up. “Good thing I can count, right?” She laughed weakly.

  “Wait. So your brakes were fine before you got to the fair and totally didn’t work after? How’d that go down?” Alexandra knit her brows.

  Cam raised her own eyebrows. “Question of the day. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem possible they would go bad on their own in such a short period of time.” She mentioned the people she’d run into at the fair and seeing Sim’s Harley on the road. “I had the truck in for a service to Sim yesterday. But she couldn’t have tampered with the brakes then, because they worked fine on my way to Middleford. Besides, why would she?”

  “Sim, Wes, Howard, Vince.” Alexandra ticked the names off on the fingers of her left hand. “Or a random somebody. Crazy.”

  “With the crowds the fair draws, anybody could have seen me or my truck. Why anybody would tamper with the brakes is the real question.”

  “What do the police say?”

  Cam wrinkled her nose. “About somebody trying to kill me? I didn’t talk to them about that idea. They seem to think I wasn’t driving carefully. They even tested my blood alcohol at the hospital. Which was zero. And I always drive with care, anyway.”

  “I think you should tell them you suspect tampering. Where’s the truck now?”

  “At Sim’s garage. You know, right in town. I asked the police to have it towed there.”

  “And where’s your cell?”

  Cam pointed to the end table where she’d left it.

  “I’m calling the cops.” Alexandra fetched the phone and pressed some numbers.

  “You know the police station number by heart?” Cam was surprised.

  “An old boyfriend works there. I memorized it a while ago.” She extended the phone to Cam.

  Cam was opening her mouth to object when someone answered on the other end. She identified herself and asked to speak to Chief Frost.

  “He’s not in, ma’am,” said the dispatcher who answered. “Can I help you?”

  Cam asked if Ruth was on duty, but the dispatcher said she wasn’t.

  “It’s about an accident I had today in Middleford. I think . . . Well, could you have Chief Frost call me? I think there might have been foul play.” Cam squeezed her eyes shut at the cliché and opened them again.

  The officer agreed to leave the chief a message and took Cam’s information.

  Cam disconnected and gazed across the table at Alexandra. “I’m sure she thought I was some kind of lunatic. Foul play. Right.” She should probably call Ruth at home and tell her. The effort to do that seemed overwhelming at the moment.

  “What about asking Sim to check the brakes for you?” Alexandra asked.

  “I’m really tired. I’ll call her tomorrow. I need to rest again.”

  “What can I do for you before I go?” Alexandra stood. She frowned and smiled at the same time.

  “Actually? You can bring the timer on top of my stove over here and set it for four hours. The doctor said I need to keep waking up to be sure I can see straight and focus.” Cam pushed up from the table. She grabbed another muffin and made her way slowly back to the couch. Dark was falling fast. She switched on the lamp.

  Alexandra set the timer on the coffee table. She added Cam’s phone and a glass of water as Cam pulled the blanket up under her chin again.

  “Well, call me if you need me, Cam. I can borrow my mom’s car and come back. I can even stay the night if you want.”

  Cam smiled. “I really appreciate it. But I’m sure I’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll come early for Volunteer Day tomorrow. I can coordinate everybody.”

  “Volunteer Day!” Cam groaned. “I totally forgot about it. Thank you. That would be a big help. I’m sure I’ll feel better by then. You be careful on the road, okay?”

  Alexandra shook a little light on a head strap at Cam. “Always do,” she said as she walked out. A bicycle bell dinged from outside a moment later.

  As Cam sampled the second muffin, she hoped she’d feel better tomorrow. Right now every bone in her body ached and her head throbbed. She realized she hadn’t seen Preston since she’d been home. He must be taking a long nap somewhere. She didn’t need to worry about him. He had his own entrance to the house, after all, the cat door in one of the basement windows.

  She also realized the human door was unlocked. She couldn’t summon even an ounce of strength to get up and bolt it. If an intruder wanted to come in and whack her over the head, well, she could hardly feel worse.

  Cam opened her eyes. The television cable box read 8:15. Her head hurt. She was hungry again. And it was too quiet. Why wasn’t Preston lobbying for his six o’clock treat? He was always in the house well before now, demanding his daily spoonful of canned food. She eased herself off the couch.

  “Preston, treat,” she called. “Preston!”

  She opened the back door. The long dusk of a New England autumn had lost its last rosy light. The evening air continued mild, but the moon hadn’t yet risen. She called again, adding the high-pitched soft whistle—schwee-schwee-schwee—he always responded to, no matter how far out in the fields he was.

  No cat. Where was her Buddha buddy, who never roughened the edges of her life, like Jake did, or rejected her, as her former boyfriend had? Mr. P was one of her constants. As she gazed out into the dark, Cam racked her brain to think of the last time she’d seen him today. It had to be this morning, before she left for Middleford. Which seemed like a week ago. But had he been around this morning? She struggled to remember.

  She took a deep breath. She reminded herself that he had stayed out all night before and had appeared the next morning, looking for breakfast, as if it was perfectly normal to put his human through a night of tossing and turning. But now? Life seemed so much more tenuous. Irene had been murdered in a horrific way. Bobby had disappeared and then had been arrested. A hen had been killed. And someone had tampered with the brakes on her truck. Could the fox have taken Preston, too? The thought of him being harmed made it really hard to keep the faith that he would show up happy and hungry at dawn.

  Cam laced up her work boots on the back porch the next morning. The steam curling up from her coffee brought the rich aroma to her nose but did nothing to soothe her heavy heart. Preston wasn’t sleeping on the sunny living room windowsill, as he usually did in the mornings. He hadn’t come when she called. His dry food dish, a ceramic bowl with kitty footprints all around it, was as full as she’d left it the night before.

  Despite having downed two more pain meds with a muffin, her head hurt and her body ached. But it was nothing in comparison to the empty space beneath her hand where her faithful cat should have been. She paced out to the road. Scanning up and down brought no sight of a puffy figure lying too still, as she had feared. She’d never seen Preston try to cross the country lane, which some residents liked to treat as a speedway. When he roamed, he always headed for the fields and the woods out back. Which held their own menaces, as the dead chicken attested to.

  Speaking of chickens, it was time to let the girls out for the day. Cam opened the coop door, latching it ajar. She topped up their food and drink and made sure the fence was secure after she let herself out of the enclosure.

  Her cell phone rang as she approached the barn. She dug it out of the back pocket of her work pants and noticed Westbury PD was the caller ID. Chief Frost himself was on the line. He asked her about the message she’d left the day before.

  “Did you hear about my accident?” Cam asked.

  “Yes. I hope you’re feeling all right.”

  “Thanks. I am, sort of. About the accident,
I didn’t mention it to the state police, but I think someone must have tampered with my brakes. I was driving safely, and they worked fine on my way to the fair.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! In fact I had to apply them suddenly when some idiot ran a red light. I know it’s an old truck, but there was nothing wrong with the brakes.”

  “Where is the vehicle now?”

  “I had it towed to SK Foreign Auto, right there on Main Street.”

  “Ms. Koyama’s shop.” He drew out Sim’s last name like he didn’t give her much credibility.

  “Right. She’s a good mechanic. She serviced the truck on Monday, in fact.”

  “Oh? Maybe she’s the one who messed with the brakes.”

  “No! Why would you say that?” Although, of course, she’d had the same thought.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll send someone over there to take a look. I’ll get back to you.”

  Cam thanked him and disconnected as Alexandra sailed up the drive on her bicycle for Volunteer Day.

  “How’s the head?” Alexandra asked, dismounting.

  Cam shrugged. “I’ve been better, but I’m up and around. It actually feels good to be moving again. But Preston is missing.” She knew what a huge heart the younger woman had for animals.

  Alexandra looked stricken. “That’s terrible. Are you sure he’s not out hunting?”

  “I haven’t seen him in twenty-four hours. He’s usually back eating by now when he’s stayed out all night before. Which he rarely does, anyway.”

  “We’ll make posters and put them up everywhere.” Alexandra placed hands on hips. “Did you call Madeline?”

  “No, but I guess I should.” The animal control officer kept a menagerie of found, foster, and abandoned animals at her own farm, including several rescue sheep.

  “You don’t think he’s been kidnapped, do you?”

  Cam stared hard at her. “You mean somebody might have taken him?”

  “I don’t know. There’s been a lot of bad stuff going down around here lately, right?”

  Cam’s core turned to ice. The thought of Preston being in malicious hands was even worse than picturing him lost in the woods. “Who would do something like that?”

  A car pulled up, and three shareholder volunteers piled out. Lucinda arrived in her own car right behind. Their eager faces and energetic stances reminded Cam she had a farm to run.

  Alexandra patted her arm. “He’ll be back.”

  Cam nodded. “Will you organize out here? You know what needs to be done. I’ll go in and call Madeline and print up some posters. I have a nice picture of Preston I took a few months ago.”

  Alexandra nodded and turned to greet the arrivals.

  “Good morning,” Cam called to them as she headed for the house. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes. Alexandra will get you started.”

  After a quick conversation with Madeline, Cam e-mailed her Preston’s picture. She created a file for the poster. She pasted in the picture of Preston standing on the back porch that she’d taken on a sunny morning in July, and added a big heading that read, LOST. LAST SEEN AT 8 ATTIC HILL ROAD. PLEASE CALL OR E-MAIL IF YOU SEE PRESTON. She finished with her cell phone number and the farm’s e-mail address. She sent ten of them to print in color and on the highest-quality setting. To heck with how much ink cartridges cost.

  The house phone rang from its anchored spot at the end of the kitchen counter. Cam couldn’t quite bring herself to give up the old black phone, its receiver connected to the heavy base with a curly cord. The telephone, the numbers on its rotary dial now faded, had been there for as long as she could remember. When she’d first been at the farm, they’d only had to dial the last four numbers to reach someone in town, and now she had to include the area code to call somebody across the street.

  The device was a connection not only to the farm’s past but to her great-aunt Marie. Cam could still picture the petite woman, a flowered bib apron tied around her tidy midsection. She would take a quick break between farm chores and making dinner to chat with a friend as she sipped a cup of coffee. Since the cord didn’t stretch too far, she’d either stand at the corner of the counter or pull up a chair. A sharp pang nicked Cam’s heart. She missed her great-aunt, who’d been more of a mother figure to her than her own mother. Marie had been unfailingly warm and nurturing, firm and fair, present and loving. Mom, on the other hand, had barely been present, even when she wasn’t off on a research trip with Cam’s father on the other side of the world.

  Cam walked the few steps from her desk to the counter. The only people who used this number now were the older residents of town. Everyone else called her on her cell. Even though she’d added a voice mail service to the line, she nearly always picked up when it rang. The device couldn’t display caller ID, but she could trust that a friend would be on the other end.

  “Uncle Albert, how nice to hear from you.” Cam smiled at the phone. Friend or family, that is.

  “I’m surprised you’re indoors on such a beautiful morning, Cameron.”

  The weather hadn’t even registered on Cam this morning. Was it a beautiful morning? Were her troubles so many that her farmer’s instinct to pay attention to the weather above all else had crumbled like a dry leaf?

  “How are you?” Albert went on. “You said something about an accident.”

  “I’m all right. A little sore. I have a crew of volunteers out there and was inside . . .” Cam realized she didn’t feel up to sharing her woes about Preston right now. “Uh, getting something.”

  “Well, now, why don’t you stop up at the place here when you get done this afternoon? I think we have a few things to catch up on.”

  Cam agreed. “I’ll ride my bike over at about four o’clock.”

  Before Albert disconnected, he added, “And bring me a six-pack of that Ipswich beer you like so much, will you?”

  Cam raised her eyebrows but agreed. She hung up. She knew he liked a glass of wine with his dinner, but didn’t think she’d ever seen him even taste a beer. A late afternoon Ipswich IPA with her favorite octogenarian? Well, why not?

  Cam borrowed Lucinda’s car and posted Preston’s picture at the Food Mart, the library, and the post office. She stapled five more to telephone poles and signposts at intersections. She added one a mile down the road in either direction from the farm.

  She’d just arrived back at the farm when Pappas pulled in behind her. Cam unfolded her long legs out of Lucinda’s car and leaned against the open door, watching him.

  “Nice car, Detective. I mean, Pete,” Cam said as he approached.

  Pappas, in a crisp plaid shirt and dark slacks but no tie, turned and glanced at the Saab with a little smile and then turned back to Cam. “It’s my indulgence.” He cocked his head. “And it’s twenty years old.”

  “Looks like you take pretty good care of it.” The car, like its owner today, was tidy, clean, and without dents or scratches. Cam looked down at her black Johnny’s Selected Seeds T-shirt and her work pants, with stains on the left knee and a hole in the right, the knee she routinely knelt on. She suddenly felt like the odd woman out.

  He stretched his left hand out to rest on the open driver’s-side door of Lucinda’s car, effectively blocking Cam in. She glanced at the untanned band on his ring finger.

  “I’ll take you for a spin sometime if you’d like. It runs like a beaut, and the leather seats are softer than you can imagine.” He slid his hands into his pockets. The little smile again played across his face.

  He wanted to take her for a spin? “Did you come all the way over here to ask me out for a driving date?” Oh, no. What a stupid thing to say. She’d never gotten the knack of conversation, to say nothing of flirting. And was that what this was? A flirtation? If so, what about Jake? She felt a blush creep over her neck and cheeks.

  Pappas, meanwhile, appeared to have the grace not to notice her gaffe.

  “Why not?” He smiled at her.

  He had asked her o
ut. Sort of. “It sounds like fun.” She’d never noticed the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Maybe because she hadn’t seen him smile much until now.

  “Actually, I heard about your accident,” he went on. “I was passing by and wanted to see how you were doing. Looks like you’re up and around, anyway.”

  “I am. I’m kind of achy, but I feel a lot better today than I did yesterday. As long as I don’t touch my head.” Her hand stole to the bump on her temple.

  “Frost told me you think someone tampered with your brakes. And this would have been while you were at the fair?”

  Cam nodded and repeated her story about how her brakes had worked perfectly on her way south. “But what I don’t get is why anyone would want to do that to me.”

  Pappas nodded like he was thinking. “I’ll work on it.”

  “But why? Aren’t you on the murder case?”

  “We don’t always know what’s related to what. Something like this could end up being connected. I don’t know how yet, but the rule is to exclude nothing.” He stared beyond the barn for a moment and back at her. “For example, the murderer might think you saw something. Or overheard a conversation that would implicate him. Or her.”

  Cam gazed at him, the horror of the logical next step dawning on her. “I wasn’t meant to survive the crash. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That is one possible scenario, yes.”

  Cam shivered despite the sunlight. Pappas moved toward her and stopped. It felt like he had meant to put his arm around her and then had thought the better of it.

  “Do you think I’m still in danger?” She hugged herself. “Am I a walking target for the killer to aim at?”

  “I would recommend caution, Cameron. Go about your business, but keep your door locked and your phone with you. And don’t do anything silly, all right?” Concern knit his heavy brows together.

  Cam cleared her throat and stood tall. “Going to the county fair is hardly silly. But I promise. If you promise to find this maniac. And soon.”