“You argued with Irene Burr at the dinner.”
“And who didn’t? Look, she was a jerk of the highest order. But I didn’t kill her!”
Pappas checked his watch. “I have to run. We’ll be talking again.” As he walked away, he called, “See you, Cameron.”
Cam touched Sim’s arm. “Why don’t you work? It’ll take your mind off all of this. And I do need my truck, you know.”
Sim nodded. “I guess.”
Chapter 26
As Cam drove along Main Street back toward the farm, she realized she hadn’t asked Sim if she’d been at the fair. She could do it later, when she picked up the truck. An early model Prius in front of her slowed and pulled into the parking area in front of the Old Town Hall. The beige hybrid with the THINK GLOBAL, EAT LOCAL bumper sticker belonged to Wes and Felicity. Was Felicity back from her sister’s? She glimpsed Wes craning his head around. He didn’t park in front but continued around the side of the building to the back. Cam didn’t know there was a parking area back there.
On a whim, she turned her steering wheel sharply to the right, earning a honk from the bumper-hugging driver behind her, and parked in front of the classic hall. She’d been forgetting to ask Wes how Felicity’s sister was doing. And she’d love a peek into the nonpublic spaces in the building. Maybe Wes could fill her in on its history real quick, even though she didn’t really have time for a tour. Living in a semirural town where half the buildings were more than a century old, with some of them built before the country was even a country, had quickened Cam’s interest in local history and antique buildings. The plaque on the Old Town Hall read WESTBURY MEETINGHOUSE, BUILT 1855.
The white clapboard building featured the graceful ten-foot-tall windows of any self-respecting New England meetinghouse, windows that also made it an expensive nightmare to heat in the winter. Wide double doors at the top of even wider granite steps were painted dark green, as were the exterior shutters. She knew each window also had interior shutters on its lower half. A golden rooster sat atop a small cupola.
Cam tried the front doors, but they were locked. She strode around the side where Wes had driven. At the back corner she spied the Prius and a door to the building propped open behind it. The back hatch of the Prius was also open, facing away from her. In it she glimpsed a rectangle of greenery that looked like a flat of seedlings. He must be on his way to the farm to ask her to grow something in her hoop house now that the weather was getting colder. Cam had had one other customer ask if she could raise a particular kind of green, which Cam had been happy to do.
“Hello?” Cam called out at the entrance but didn’t get a response. Inside the entryway one short flight of steps led up and another led down. She figured the flight up probably led to the back of the stage at the end of the large first-floor meeting room. Light shone at the bottom of the lower flight, so Cam followed that path. She turned a corner into a large and depressingly institutional multipurpose room. Folding chairs lined dingy khaki-colored walls, and a couple of laminated posters rested against the wall in a corner, the outermost one displaying a poem titled “Serenity Prayer.” Cracks in the wall plaster radiated in every direction. The air smelled vaguely of mold. High casement windows let in almost no light, particularly on a gloomy day like today, but the insufficient overhead fluorescent lights weren’t much help.
At the far end appeared to be a door to a kitchen and another labeled FURNACE. The latter was open an inch. She walked through the room until she could see Wes wasn’t in the kitchen.
“Wes?” No answer. She’d have to try the main level. He must be up there cleaning or something. He was the town maintenance person for the hall, after all. She had turned to go when she heard a few quick footsteps behind her.
“What are you doing here?” Wes scowled, his eyes like icicles.
“You were right in front of me on Main Street, and I saw you drive in here. I’ve been forgetting to ask how Felicity and her sister are doing. And I love old buildings, so I thought maybe I could grab a quick look.”
“A look?”
“I’ve never seen anything except the main meeting room during Town Meeting.”
“Sorry. I’m busy. We can do that another time.” He gestured toward the exit. He kept his arm extended and started walking toward the door, effectively moving her along ahead of him. “By appointment. Sorry, Cam. It’s been a rough day. Anne—Felicity’s sister—is doing pretty well. Thanks for asking. But I miss Felicity.”
“You must.” Cam smiled when she reached the steps. “I do, too. She’s such an enthusiastic volunteer.”
Wes accompanied her around to her car. “See you Saturday.” He raised his hand in farewell.
As Cam drove home, she couldn’t figure out why Wes had scowled at her. Wes seemed different lately. It must be because Felicity was out of town and she served as his anchor, his calming influence.
After she arrived home, she made sure Preston was still indoors and looked healthy. She had locked his cat door before she left to make sure he stayed inside. One look at him nestled on a blanket in the corner of the couch assured her he wasn’t going to be asking to go out any time soon. And his deep purr when she petted him was enough to satisfy her that he was going to be all right.
She headed out to harvest, her thoughts focused on what to do about Howard Fisher. She had to confront him about Preston. She would also have to return his Jeep after Sim repaired her truck. She had begun to cut mixed greens when Lucinda walked up.
“Need some help?” Lucinda’s hair was wilder than ever in the damp air, and her eyes sparkled as she shoved curls back off her face.
“How do you stay so cheerful all the time?” Cam sat back on her heels.
“It’s in my genes, I guess. Or my culture. Brazilians are pretty happy people.”
“You’re lucky. But sure, I can always use help.”
“I grabbed scissors on the way out.” Lucinda knelt and began clipping at the other end of the bed. “Any news about Preston?”
“The best news,” Cam said. She told Lucinda about finding him that morning and about having to take him to the vet. “He’s in the house now. I think I’ll keep him in for a few days. Or at least until he demands to go out.”
“Fisher stole him.” Lucinda’s eyes flashed. “I’ll go beat the crap out of him. People can’t go around stealing animals.”
“It might not have been theft. And I don’t think beating him up is necessary.” Cam sighed. “Maybe it’s innocent. Ruth said Preston probably wandered off and got lost.”
“Ya think?” Lucinda stared at Cam.
“I don’t know. But why would Howard have taken him? And his son, Vince, is a nice kid. He wouldn’t have taken a cat, for sure.”
“Well, if you need backup when you go talk to him, you call me. I’m pretty tough.”
Cam nodded, smiling to herself. Lucinda was tough, and she was a good friend. She was happy to have the Brazilian on her side. Cam’s cell buzzed in her pocket. Sim was on the other end, saying the truck would be ready in the early afternoon.
“I’ll pick it up at the shop. Thanks,” Cam said, then disconnected. “That was Sim. Could I get you to help me return the Jeep to Howard this afternoon?”
Lucinda nodded. They worked in silence for several more minutes. When Cam remembered they were harvesting for Jake’s restaurant, her mood darkened again.
“Lucinda, I need some advice.”
“I’m it.” Her friend couldn’t have looked more delighted. “Call me Dear Lucy.”
Cam explained about Jake’s jealousy and his sliding back and forth between affection and near hostility. “I’m not sure I can take it anymore. I mean, I like him when he’s nice. And we really click physically.”
At Lucinda’s grin, Cam blushed. “Well, we do! And I want to be able to work with him. But I’m not sure I can handle the fireworks and the hot, then cold, then hot. It’s exhausting.”
“Do you trust him?” Lucinda cocked her head.
“You’re gonna be all right. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.” Lucinda walked over and rubbed Cam’s shoulder. “Now, what else do we need to cut for this crazy chef?”
Chapter 27
As it happened, Jake was out when Cam made her delivery two hours later. She left the vegetables with the sous-chef and started the drive back to Westbury. It was a relief not to have to confront Jake, even though she knew she’d only postponed the inevitable. As she drove, she thought about Pete’s invitation to go for a spin, and how attractive the prospect seemed. She shook her head. If she was about to embark on some kind of undefined something with Pete Pappas, she sure had better end things with Jake first, or he would finally, in fact, have cause to be jealous. The bigger question was whether she wanted to pursue other men or work through the issues with Jake. Maybe the wiser course was to simply settle for the life of a celibate farmer. She wouldn’t be the first in history to do so.
Cam made a decision. She pulled into a gas station near the highway. After she topped up the Jeep’s tank, she pressed the numbers for Jake’s cell phone. She half hoped that he would answer and prayed with the other half that he wouldn’t. At the sound of his voice on the message, she let out a breath.
“Jake, I missed you with my delivery. Hey, will you come to the farm for a quick lunch tomorrow? Say, eleven thirty? Let me know.” She quickly disconnected. She’d better be ready by tomorrow with whatever decision she hadn’t yet made.
Lucinda was waiting at Sim’s shop when Cam drove up. She paid Sim, thanking her, but the mechanic didn’t seem to want to chat, so Cam excused herself.
“Catch.” Cam threw the truck keys to Lucinda. “Follow me. I guess we’re doing this on the fly.”
“I like flying,” Lucinda said after she caught the keys. “I’m your copilot.”
Cam drove Howard’s Jeep slowly down the road to the Fisher farm. She hadn’t decided how to approach Howard. Innocently? With an accusation? She wondered if she should have told somebody at the police station. She remembered she had told Ruth, who hadn’t taken the kidnapping idea seriously. She checked the mirror. At least she had Lucinda as backup. Cam would be glad to be rid of this vehicle, this obligation to a man she no longer trusted. Make that another man.
She parked next to Howard’s dusty truck, which sat to the left side of the farmhouse. She left the key in the ignition. Lucinda pulled Cam’s truck around so it was facing toward the road and hopped out.
“Let’s walk out back. He’s probably working,” Cam said.
Lucinda replied with a thumbs-up fist. “I got your back.” “Howard?” Cam called as they neared the ramshackle barn. The area in front of it featured mostly packed dirt with a few languishing lilac bushes to one side and a parched, weedy perennial garden to the other with only a few tired asters adding color.
“Hello?” she called again. No one appeared, so she pulled open the wide sliding door at the front of the barn.
The mid-afternoon light revealed an interior clogged with junk. Rusty farm equipment, discarded cardboard boxes, odd bits of white PVC pipe, empty feed bags, a broken wheelbarrow. Nowhere was the semblance of order Cam had grown accustomed to in the barns of working farms she had visited and her own. The path weaving through the mess was barely wide enough for one person to navigate, and the sides were high enough to make it almost a tunnel.
Lucinda gave a low whistle. “Looks like a hoarder show I saw.”
“He must keep his working tools somewhere else,” Cam said in a low voice, shaking her head. “Come on. Maybe he’s around the back.”
As they walked between the lilacs and the barn wall, Howard emerged around the corner of the barn. Once again he carried a rifle. He pulled to a halt directly in front of them.
“What do you want?” He spied the open barn door, and his face darkened. “What were you doing in there?” He waved the gun at them.
“Hey.” Cam threw her hands up, palms out. “Calm down, Howard. I returned your Jeep. I wanted to thank you.”
“Oh.” He lowered the gun. “Yeah. Glad you could use it.”
“I filled the tank, too.”
“Appreciate it.” Howard didn’t meet Cam’s eyes.
Cam raised her eyebrows at Lucinda and tilted her head toward the front of the property. Lucinda started walking in that direction, with Cam close behind. As they approached the truck, Cam turned. Howard had stopped near the back of the house. Vince rode down the drive on a bicycle. He braked near Cam and smiled at her.
“Hi, Ms. Flaherty.” He stood astraddle the bike and slipped a pack off one shoulder.
“Hey, Vince.” He must have come from school. “How are you?”
“It’s all good.”
Cam returned her eyes to Howard, suddenly glad both Vince and Lucinda were nearby. “By the way, Howard. When I was here this morning, I saw my cat in a carrier on your porch. I took him home. How did he get there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Howard stood with his arms at his sides, holding the rifle in one hand, his chin in the air.
“Are you sure? It was my cat, Preston. He wasn’t doing too well. I hadn’t seen him in two days.”
“No idea. You must be talking about some other cat.”
“But, Dad—” Vince darted his eyes to Cam and back to his father.
“Shut up, Vincent.” Howard glared at the young man.
“No, it was definitely my cat,” Cam said. “I had his chip checked by the vet.”
“Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vince looked at Cam and seemed to steel himself. “I told him—”
“Vince!” Howard bellowed. “Go do your chores.”
Vince looked like he might speak again. Cam smiled at him with encouragement.
“Now!” Howard pointed to the back of the property, where Cam had seen the pigs.
Vince shook his head and rode away. As he disappeared around the back of the barn, he turned back and mouthed “Sorry” to Cam.
Lucinda cleared her throat. “I have an appointment, Cam. Can we get going?”
Cam nodded. “Well, thanks again for the loan, Howard. I left the carrier in the Jeep.”
Howard put the shooting end of the rifle on the ground and leaned both hands on the butt end. He kept silent as they climbed into the truck.
“Close one,” Lucinda said.
Cam steered the truck down the road away from the farm. “We didn’t really learn anything, either.”
“Howard’s got major problems. And it sure seems like he took your cat. But why?”
“If I can ever talk to Vince alone, I might find out the real story.”
“Good thing for him his father didn’t see him say he was sorry. Poor kid, huh? And no brothers or sisters?”
“I don’t think so.”
Poor kid, indeed. Cam knew he’d had a run-in with the local police for speeding and driving an unregistered car. He’d always seemed polite and cheerful when he delivered manure from a horse farm where he sometimes worked to Cam’s farm for compost. With a father like his, keeping a positive attitude could be a real problem. She wondered what his mother was like. Cam had seen her only once, and it had been in town, not on their farm. Howard hadn’t brought her to the farm-to-table dinner. Maybe they were divorced by now. Or maybe she kept house and cooked for her men, although most farms used all the person power they had on hand.
The overcast day had brightened a little but was still chilly and raw. As Cam pulled up at Sim’s shop to let Lucinda off at her car, the pangs in her stomach made her realize she’d never had lunch.
“Buy you early dinner at the Grog?”
Lucinda agreed and said
she’d follow Cam there. A burger and a draft IPA sounded perfect, and it would get Cam home in time to bring in the chickens. Maybe if she and Lucinda put their heads together, they could come up with some way to sort out the events of the last week.
Chapter 28
The Grog had been a fixture in Newburyport for as long as Cam could remember. She’d first come to the pub as a child with Albert and Marie after a morning of bird watching on Plum Island. She’d drawn on the paper place mat with the provided crayons and demolished the child-size burger and fries. The restaurant welcomed regulars at the bar, as well as families in the dining room. The walls between the wooden booths were high enough to keep conversations private, but if you wanted to perch on a bar stool and schmooze with the stranger next to you, that was welcome, too. Cam had done both over the years. She’d also listened to live music downstairs on a Saturday night, although she hadn’t made it to a single concert since the growing season had launched itself with a vengeance.
She and Lucinda slid into a booth near the bar and perused the menus.
“Looks like the most local food I’ll get here is the clam chowder. And an Ipswich ale,” Lucinda said.
“I’m going to try the Green Head IPA from Newburyport Brewing Company. It’s right here in town, even more local than Ipswich.”
“Good idea.”
A waitress stopped by, took their beer orders, and said she’d give them a minute to decide on food.
“How’s your year of being a locavore going, anyway?” Cam asked. Lucinda had decided the previous spring to try to eat only local food for a year, an idea she’d gotten from a Barbara Kingsolver book in which she described her family’s efforts to do the same.
“I’ve had a few slipups, but it’s mostly good. Local food is out there if you look for it. Milk, cheese, meat, and fish. Your produce, of course. And wine and beer.” Lucinda smiled and raised her eyebrows. “I finally decided to give myself a pass on coffee, though.” She raised her shoulders. “What can I do? Sou brasileira. Coffee’s in my blood.”
Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) Page 17