Rain was the worst possible condition for a last-minute harvest. The greens would be sodden. Any fungus on the bean plants would be spread by picking in the rain. Possibly worst of all, she and any volunteers would be soaked and chilled before the first shareholder even arrived. She cast a glance at the clock and groaned. It was already seven o’clock. This was major sleeping in for a farmer, especially on pickup day, but she was both too cold to get out of bed and too reluctant to start the workday.
When she’d warmed up enough, she sat, slid her feet into slippers, and rolled out of bed. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. This was her life right now, like it or not. A hot shower, a bowl of oatmeal, and a mug of French roast later, she suited up in old jeans, an old fleece sweatshirt, wool socks, and rain gear. She ventured forth, Preston at her side. The digital thermometer on the porch read forty-three degrees Fahrenheit. A little below normal for the middle of October, but not unheard of. Preston, with his double layer of fur, was unfazed by the rain. He ambled by her side, paused to sniff the chicken enclosure after she entered it, and headed back to sit under the eaves of the barn.
Cam wasn’t sure how the birds would react to the rain. She opened their door. They wandered out and started pecking, rain or no rain. She realized they would need a cover for their food, so she rummaged in the barn until she came up with a discarded piece of plywood and a couple of boxes to prop it on over the feeder.
She felt completely inadequate with respect to these fowl. She remembered with relief that Alexandra would be there later to pick up her share. Maybe she’d even come early to help harvest. Cam could ask her then what to do about hens and rainy days. Alexandra had also promised to build a covered run with DJ this weekend. It seemed more like the girls needed an entire covered housing complex, but that was definitely not Cam’s area of expertise. And would they build while it was raining?
Grabbing scissors and a big basket, she trudged over to the salad area. She grew the lettuces and tender greens as close to the barn as she could. Woodchucks and rabbits loved to munch nearly mature heads of lettuce right to the ground if they got a chance, and she’d had her share of heartbreak when going out to cut lettuce on market morning, only to find flat green stumps instead.
Earlier in the year, Cam had spent some time researching effective solutions short of poisoning every critter in sight. After the new barn was completed, Cam had set up an area fenced in by a wire that was powered by a small shocking device. The wire ran from the device, mounted inside a corner of a barn window, out to the salad garden. She’d stretched it around the area one foot up off the ground. She’d wrapped the wire around a narrow fiberglass post at four-foot intervals. All she had to do was keep weeds from growing tall enough to lean against the wire so that they wouldn’t short out the electricity.
She’d touched the live wire once so she could understand the effect on the small mammals, not that she was anywhere near their size. The shock was unpleasant but didn’t knock her out or anything. She fervently hoped it would deter the varmints from browsing through some of her most valuable crops. Somehow, possibly from being shocked once, Preston had figured out this area was one to stay away from. She supposed she could have built a permanent wire fence, sinking it into the ground to prevent the critters from digging under it, but then she would be stuck with that size of garden. The electric-wire method was a lot more flexible.
Now Cam stepped carefully over the wire and set to work cutting bunches of mesclun in the rain. It wasn’t a downpour, so the leaves stood mostly erect, and most weren’t lying in the wet soil. She remembered her arugula beds being poisoned last spring. It had taken a while to find the culprit.
She’d filled the capacious market basket and stood to stretch her back when she spied a slight figure in a lime-green rain jacket approaching.
“Now, that’s dedication,” Cam said when Ellie drew near. “Thanks for coming.”
“I said I’d come help. It’s just rain.” Ellie smiled. “It’s what we say in cross-country. We train in anything except lightning. Rain doesn’t hurt you.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you. You didn’t ride your bike in this, I hope.”
“My dad dropped me off.”
“How are your running times, anyway?” Cam asked.
“I’m getting there. I’m only a freshman. But we have this girl, Chelsea, a junior? She might go to states. She’s wicked fast.”
“I actually ran cross-country in high school. It was the only sport I had any interest in.”
“You did?” Ellie’s eyebrows rose.
“Don’t look so surprised. I figured it was a good use of these ostrich legs.” Cam gestured vaguely at her extra-tall rain pants.
“Were you any good?”
“I placed once. I tripped a lot, too. I’m actually too tall to be a great runner. Or at least that was my excuse.” Cam laughed and shook her head.
“You should come to one of our meets sometime.”
Cam gazed at Ellie, thinking of Myrna, who couldn’t possibly navigate the grassy fields or wooded areas where the meets would be sure to start and finish. “I’d like to. Can I find the schedule online?”
Ellie nodded. “On the high school Web page. Click the Sports tab. We’re down at the bottom.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course. So, what’s my first, like, job this morning?”
“Why don’t you take this basket back to the barn and see if you can make it presentable for the shareholders? The greens are pretty wet, but I don’t think they are too dirty. Maybe spread them out in several baskets for an hour or two so the greens will dry out a little. Watch the fence!”
“Got it.” Ellie leaned over the wire, hefted the basket, and headed back the way she’d come. Cam looked around, trying to remember what else she needed to harvest out here. She could set Ellie to cutting herbs when she reemerged. It would have to be a small share this week. Fortunately, the subscribers’ agreement stated that shares would go down to half portions in the fall. She realized with a start that they had only a month left to go for the summer shares. And the winter shares would start in December. Yikes. Did she have enough started in the greenhouse to sustain cutting all winter? And could she keep it warm enough?
Cam heaved a sigh as heavy as a peck of carrots. She turned when she heard voices behind her. Ellie and Bobby were walking toward her. Bobby wore a Red Sox cap and had the collar of a canvas jacket, dark with moisture, pulled up around his ears.
“Look who I found,” Ellie said, smiling.
“Did you come out here in the rain to volunteer?” Cam asked Bobby.
He shook his head. He shifted his eyes to Ellie and back to Cam, as if sending Cam a message.
It took her a moment. “Ellie, can you cut herbs next? You know the routine.”
Ellie walked off, nodding.
“What’s up?” Cam faced Bobby.
“They took Sim in for questioning.”
“Oh, no. But I saw Pete yesterday and—”
“Oh, so you’re on a cozy first-name basis with the statie who accused me of murder?” Bobby pulled his mouth down in disgust.
“I thought Detective Pappas had already questioned Sim.” Cam ignored the jab. “Twice.”
“It’s some issue with her alibi. But so what? Same as with me, they can’t possibly have any actual evidence. I’m betting they’ll let her go. I wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“I thought you and she were friends. Like I thought you and I were friends. But maybe you’re better friends with old Pete, there.” Bobby’s look changed to one of worry. “If you are, I hope you can convince him to leave Sim alone. She didn’t kill Irene any more than I did.”
Alexandra didn’t show up early to help, but with some degree of scrambling and no small dose of ingenuity, Cam and Ellie managed to assemble enough produce for the shares. Ellie’s father, David, came promptly at noon, picked up the family’s share, and whisked his daughter away to get warm and dry. T
he rain had finally stopped, a brisk wind moving the front through. Cam could even spy traces of blue in the western sky.
She dashed to the house before anyone else arrived, stripped off every piece of her wet clothing, and pulled on a dry outfit, socks, and work boots. She grabbed a granola bar and munched it as she headed back to the barn. She was in time to greet two customers getting out of their cars.
By two o’clock only half the shareholders had taken their produce. Cam checked the clock on the barn wall. Usually, things were winding down by now. Maybe people were out of town, leaf peeping. She had no idea.
Lucinda walked slowly through the door, hands in her jeans pockets, a cloth bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t smile at Cam.
“Hey, what’s up?” Cam asked.
Lucinda poked through the salad greens like she wasn’t sure she wanted to take any of them. “You know I said I had to find another cleaning job, now that Irene is gone?”
Cam nodded.
“Then I thought, I got my green card. Maybe now I can be a librarian again, like I was in Brazil. The heck with scrubbing toilets.”
“Absolutely. Did you find something?”
“Nada.” She shook her head. “Nobody wants me. Not even as an aide, a shelver.” She picked up a squash and threw it into the bottom of her bag. The bag slipped off her arm and fell, the squash rolling out and toward the wall of tools. She swore but let it roll.
Cam approached her. “Rotten luck. How many libraries did you talk to?”
“All the ones around here. They don’t like immigrants, I guess. Westbury was actually the most friendly, but they want me to get more training in this country. I have a degree in library science ! But it’s in Portuguese. Not good enough for them.” She spat out the last sentence.
“I’m really sorry, Lucinda. Don’t give up.”
Wes rushed in, carrying Felicity’s market basket. He greeted Cam and set to work. Checking the blackboard where Cam listed all the items and how much to take of each, he threw three leeks into the bottom of the basket, selected a squash, added a bunch of kale, frowning all the while.
“How’s it going, Wes?”
“Good. In a hurry today.” He finished his order, gently laying the salad greens on top. “Felicity is coming home tomorrow. I have some cooking to do.”
Diane Weaver entered the barn. Two men Cam had never seen before flanked her. She walked straight up to Wes. He tried to move around her, but one of the men grasped his arm.
“Wesley Ames,” Diane began. “You are under arrest for growing, selling, and distributing non-medicinal Cannabis sativa over the amount of one ounce with the intent of making a profit.”
Chapter 35
The other man moved in and deftly relieved him of his basket while the first cuffed Wes’s hands behind his back. He struggled for a moment and then stood quietly. The color drained out of his face as he gazed above Diane’s head.
Diane went on speaking, but Cam didn’t pay any attention. She stared at the scene. Wes Ames, growing and selling marijuana ? Diane arresting him? In her barn? The world had gone topsy-turvy.
Right before they led Wes away, his head snapped toward Cam.
“Call Anne Kennedy in Elmira, New York. Felicity’s sister. Please.”
The anguish in his eyes tore at Cam. She nodded.
Diane saw them out the door and turned back. She walked up to Cam. “I’m so sorry to do this here. We had information that led us to believe he was about to destroy his operation.”
“Who are you?” Cam stared at Diane, this normal-looking woman who said she was a consultant, this person who took pride in canning her own tomatoes.
Diane stood a little straighter. “I’m an undercover DEA agent. We’ve been following Wes for a while. He had established a rather large marijuana factory in the back basement of the Old Town Hall.” She raised her eyebrows. “It wasn’t exactly altruism for the town that made him not want Irene to buy the property.”
The flat of seedlings. The way Wes had seemed alarmed to see her and had hurried her out of the basement the day she’d stopped by. His arguments with Irene. Cam wondered if the clicking of things falling into place in her brain was audible.
“This explains a lot. Does Detective Pappas know about it?” He had to. That was why he had asked her about Diane during their walk.
“He does.”
“Did he tell you what I told him on Friday? About my run-in with Wes in the Old Town Hall basement a few days ago?”
She nodded.
“It all makes sense now, but it didn’t at the time,” Cam said. “Poor Felicity. I wonder if she knew anything?”
“As far as we know, she didn’t. We’ve done some checking around.” Diane smiled, but it was a professional smile and not a particularly cheery one.
In the distance Cam heard the four flat, slow blasts from the municipal siren, indicating a fire. And again. And again. On-call firefighters would be jumping into cars all over town and driving from every direction, flashing lights on, toward the firehouse. A minute later the faint wail of an engine’s siren started up. She sniffed. When she caught a whiff of smoke in the air, she shuddered. She’d been trapped in a fire not once but twice in her life. She never wanted to experience it again.
Diane dragged a vibrating phone out of her jacket pocket. She turned away to answer it.
“I’m on it.” Her eyes darted to Cam. “Thanks.” She stabbed a button to disconnect. “Do you mind assembling my share for me? I’ll pick it up later. I have to run. Old Town Hall is on fire. The bastard must have triggered the fire to destroy evidence.”
“How could he trigger a fire?”
Diane shook her head. “I don’t know.” She hurried out of the barn at a near run.
Lucinda moved next to Cam. “Holy manure. I always thought Wes was a little doido.” She made a circular motion with her finger next to her head. “You know, funny. But growing pot for a business on town property? He really is nuts.”
Cam nodded. This upped the stakes for his being a suspect in Irene’s murder, too. It was one thing to want to save a historic building for town functions. It was quite another to have a profitable business threatened. But why hadn’t he grown the pot at home? Maybe he hadn’t wanted to involve Felicity.
She glanced at his overflowing basket. She’d promised to call Felicity at her sister’s. And if Felicity was coming home, as she surely would be now, she should have the food.
“Can you watch the shop for a few minutes? I have to go look up Felicity’s sister and call her.”
“You can find the number on your phone, you know. It ain’t called smart for nothing.”
“I know. I’d rather have the privacy, though. Back in a flash.” At least Wes’s troubles seemed to have taken Lucinda’s mind off her own, Cam mused as she walked to the house. An idea hit her like a spring thunderstorm. Cam smiled, her own mind taken off Wes’s troubles for the moment.
Her step returning to the barn was much less lively. Felicity had dissolved into tears at the news. Her sister Anne had had to take over the phone. Anne assured Cam they would call a lawyer. She said they would be leaving Elmira shortly, but it was a seven-hour drive. Before Cam hung up, she volunteered to leave the basket of food at Felicity and Wes’s house, telling Anne nothing was overly perishable, especially with today’s cool temperature.
Cam had never been to their house before but had the address in her files. She could go right after the last shareholder showed up. She smacked her head as she walked. Tomorrow was market day again. The market manager had offered her a table for the rest of the season, and she had accepted. How in the world would she get everything done in time? Then she remembered her idea.
Alexandra was in the barn.
“Yo, Cam. We didn’t forget about the run.”
“No worries. Besides, I didn’t expect you to build anything in the rain.”
“DJ’s outside communing with his little girlfriends.” Alexandra tilted her head in the dir
ection of the chicken area. “They look great.”
“I think they’re really responding to good care in their new home. I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re happy, but who knows? Maybe they are.”
A subscriber Cam didn’t know well approached. “I saw you have chickens now,” he said. “Good move. When will you include eggs in the shares?”
“Uh . . .” Cam looked at Alexandra. The young woman took over the conversation, to Cam’s relief, and began to tell the man about the hens’ gradual return to health, when they could be expected to start laying, and the value of the rescue organization. Cam imagined Alexandra would have a new recruit before the afternoon was over.
Cam walked out to the hen area. DJ stood in the enclosure, next to the coop, looking like he was checking the construction. She greeted him.
“How’s it holding up?”
He turned and smiled. “Looks great. So do the ladies. They’re learning how to live like chickens again. Did you see how their feathers are already coming back?”
Cam nodded.
“We’ll build the covered run right here for now. It’ll be lightweight, just two-by-twos and chicken wire. You’ll be able to move it easily whenever you rotate the hens around the property.”
“What if they’re out when we want to move them?”
He raised his eyebrows a few times, channeling Groucho Marx. “Ve haf our vays,” he said with a big smile that produced a dimple in his left cheek.
Cam smiled back. It was hard not to around this engaging young man. “I’d better get back inside. Make sure you give me a bill for your supplies.”
He said he would and bent down to stroke Her Meekness’s tiny head.
Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) Page 21