Alexandra was finishing filling her bags when Cam reentered the barn. Alexandra left the bags by the door and headed out to work with DJ. The barn was now empty of subscribers, except for Lucinda. Cam checked the sign-in list. There were still a half dozen shareholders to go.
“Lucinda, I have a proposal for you.” Cam leaned against a thick post bisecting the main area.
Lucinda had retrieved the dropped squash and was shifting it from hand to hand, back and forth like a ball.
“I’d like to hire you. I can’t pay too much—I’ll have to check my books—but I really, really need some extra help. And you volunteer so much, you should be paid instead. I know it’s not being a librarian, but it’s also not cleaning up other people’s messes. What do you say?”
“But I volunteer because I like it. You don’t have to pay me.”
“I want to. Let me at least offer you all the produce you want and something more per hour. We can work out a schedule. If I don’t get more help around here, I’m going to have a nervous breakdown or a failed farm. Or both. And I don’t want either to happen.”
Lucinda stared at the squash in her hands. She shifted it back and forth a few more times. She raised her eyes to Cam. And nodded, breaking into a big smile.
“I’ll do it, fazendeira. But one thing?”
“What is it?”
“If a library job comes through, I gotta take it. Deal?”
“Deal.” Cam walked over to Lucinda and extended her hand. Lucinda took it, and they shook. Lucinda held out her arms to Cam. They exchanged a quick hug.
As Cam greeted a latecomer at the door, she reflected that Lucinda was about as opposite from her as possible in terms of being comfortable around people both physically and socially. Maybe a few of Lucinda’s habits would rub off on her.
Chapter 36
By the time Cam came back from leaving Wes and Felicity’s basket at their house, it was almost five o’clock and the clouds had blown clean through. Lucinda had stayed to do some harvesting for the market, but her car was gone when Cam drove in. Alexandra’s bike and DJ’s borrowed truck were there, and Cam heard sounds of hammering coming from behind the barn.
She took a few minutes to tidy up the barn. She checked the subscriber sign-in sheet. Five households hadn’t made it over to get their shares, which put her ahead for items she could sell at market tomorrow. She’d made it clear at the start of the season: if shareholders didn’t show up or make prior arrangements, the vegetables reverted to Cam. The number of no-shows, of course, didn’t include Diane. Cam had asked Lucinda to assemble her share and leave it on the table.
Speak of the devil. Diane rushed into the barn. Her normally neat cap of dark hair was a bit flyaway, and she wore a smudge on her left cheek.
“Sorry about earlier, Cam.” Diane spread her hands out. “We should have taken Wes at his home, before he even got here. I hope we didn’t offend any of your customers.”
“It was certainly a shock. I haven’t heard any complaints, though.”
“Good.” She glanced around. “Is my—”
“Your share is in those plastic bags on the table there.” Cam pointed. Lucinda had left a slip of paper next to the bags with Diane’s name on it.
“Great. Thank you.”
“So being a subscriber was only a front for getting closer to your suspect?” Cam shoved her hands in her back pockets. She didn’t much like being a tool for anyone.
Diane stopped. She faced Cam. “I am very devoted to eating locally. I love your produce. I do have a life outside my job, Cam. Please believe me.”
“All right. I hope there won’t be any more busts in my barn.”
“I hope not, too.”
“What happened with the fire at the Old Town Hall?”
Diane let out a little breath. “It turned out to be a shorted wire, and between the fire department and the sprinkler system, the damage was pretty slight.”
“Nobody was hurt?”
Diane shook her head. “Thank goodness.”
“And so it wasn’t Wes trying to destroy evidence, after all.” Cam raised her eyebrows.
“No.” Diane had the grace to look chagrined. She looked relieved at the same time. She picked up her bags, said good-bye, and left.
A last ray of sun slanted through the clerestory window high above the door. The familiar barn smells of dust, motor oil, and bits of dried manure mixed with the pungent scents of garlic, earthy potatoes, antique apples. Cam caught a trace of freshly sawn wood, so different from the dry-timber bouquet of Albert’s antique barn before it had gone up in a terrifying conflagration. Cam gazed at the neat array of tools hanging on the back wall, next to three stacks of empty bushel baskets standing ready to hold the next harvest. It had been one more exhausting day as a farmer, and it wasn’t over yet. In this moment of grace, though, she knew she was lucky to have her health, a sturdy old house to live in, a job.
“Cam? We want to show you something,” Alexandra called from outside.
The two young people had gotten a lot done in a hurry. A structure made of two-by-twos now enclosed an area about ten feet out from the coop doors. The section closest to the doors was human height, and the rest came up to about half that high. A thick roll of chicken wire lay on its side next to a six-foot ladder.
“You’ve been busy.” Cam tested one of the upright supports. It barely moved. “So you’ll run the fencing over the top and the sides?”
“That’s it,” DJ said. “We’ll come back tomorrow and finish the job, if it’s all right with you.”
“Of course,” Cam said. “Can I offer you both something to drink? I’m sure ready.”
“I’ll feed the hens,” Alexandra offered.
When Cam came back from the house with three full glasses of beer and a bowl of tortilla chips on a tray, the hens were pecking away at their dinner. Hillary shoved Her Meekness out of the way, but DJ grabbed a handful of the feed and led the smaller hen into a corner to eat in peace.
Cam set the tray on the bench behind the barn. “Beer’s here,” she announced.
DJ dusted off his hands and joined her and Alexandra.
After they clinked glasses and Cam took a long swig, she sniffed.
“It’s getting a little smelly out here.”
DJ laughed. “Part of the deal. We have to keep up with raking the yard when you have the coop here next to the barn and with changing the straw in the coop. But every bit of it can go into the compost, and it’ll feed your next round of crops.”
“We? You mean I have to,” Cam said, wrinkling her nose. She was certainly no stranger to manure and didn’t mind the odor when she had a fresh load delivered. But having the smell around all the time was different.
“We’ll help, right, Allie?”
Allie? Cam thought Alexandra was adamant about not being called by any nickname, even Alex.
Alexandra nodded, apparently not noticing. She stretched her legs out, caressing DJ’s foot with hers.
Oh. So that was why she didn’t mind being called Allie.
The three sat and chatted until the afternoon started turning into evening and the temperature cooled. Most of the chickens had already made their way into the coop to roost. DJ shooed Her Meekness up the ramp and latched the door behind her.
“Thanks again, you guys,” Cam said, collecting the glasses. “I’ll be at market in Newburyport in the morning, but you’re welcome to come and work even if I’m not here.”
“We’ll do it.” Alexandra fetched her share bags from the barn and followed DJ to the truck he’d borrowed. She hefted her bike into the back and slid into the cab with him. He gave a little honk as they drove off, and Cam waved back.
Her thoughts turning to dinner, Cam was headed toward the house when a truck drove up the drive. She peered in the dusk. Were DJ and Alexandra already back? Maybe they forgot something.
She took a closer look. It was Howard Fisher. Her heart thumped in her chest. What did he want? He’d better not
have his rifle with him. She patted her pocket and was relieved to find her phone right where she wanted it. She moved closer to the house, until the motion-detector light flashed on.
Howard’s driver’s-side door complained of rust and age as it opened. Howard climbed out, carrying a flat package. He had left the lights on and the engine running.
“Hey, Howard. What brings you here?” Cam stayed in the pool of light.
“Brought you something. We butchered Buddy, our big fella, today. Here’s some chops for you.” He extended the package.
Cam didn’t know how she could refuse, so she took the packet wrapped in white butcher paper. “Thank you. But why—”
“Just wanted to show no ill will and all.” Howard looked at the ground. “And my boy told me I should bring the meat. Sometimes he’s right about stuff.”
“He’s a good kid. And he’s always very polite, you should know. Unlike some teenagers these days.”
“His ma’s doing.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be going. So’s you know, there’s more pork where that came from, if you should want any.”
Cam barely had time to call out her thanks before he drove off. She gazed at the packet in her hand. She was completely confused by the meaning of Howard’s gesture. He wanted to show no ill will? Maybe he felt bad about taking Preston.
The next question was, did she want to eat Buddy for dinner? She was hungry enough to. And he hadn’t been the one to gnaw on Irene’s body. The thought of Irene brought the thought of the killer. Who was still out there. She glanced around quickly as she unlocked the back door.
When she called Preston, he dashed toward her from around the corner of the house. She didn’t blame him for hiding from the man who had snatched him only a few days earlier. Cam flicked on the lights and locked the door behind both of them.
As she started unwrapping the chops, she reflected that it was a good thing Alexandra and DJ had already left. They surely would have accosted Howard about how he treated his animals. Maybe Cam wouldn’t tell them she was having part of the big fella for supper.
Chapter 37
Two pork chops were broiling under a rub of olive oil, fresh rosemary, and garlic when the doorbell rang. Cam whirled. Who could that be? Whoever it was knocked several times.
“Who is it?” Cam called.
“It’s me,” Ruth’s voice called.
Cam flung the door open. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
Ruth raised a single eyebrow. “We arranged this. Right? We haven’t visited in a long time and all?”
“Oh! Would you believe I forgot?” Cam shook a rueful head. “I’m really sorry.”
Ruth sniffed. “As long as it’s dinner for two I smell, you are forgiven.” She extended a bottle of red wine with a smile.
“It is! Two pork chops are broiling, and I already baked a pan of Beauregard sweet potatoes. I can always extend the salad.”
“Pour me a glass of wine and explain why you’re making dinner for two for one.”
Cam laughed. “I already have a pinot noir open.” She slid a glass out of the stem holder under the cabinet and poured for Ruth. “I make extra so I don’t have to worry about cooking the next day. The life of a single person, you know.”
They exchanged cheers. Ruth took a sip.
“Wait. I thought you were going to confirm with me about your mom babysitting tonight,” Cam said. “That’s why I didn’t realize you were coming over.”
It was Ruth’s turn to smack her forehead. “Oh, yeah. I guess I’m the one who slipped up.”
“As Great-Aunt Marie used to say, ‘All’s well that ends well.’ ”
Ten minutes later, after they’d begun to eat, Ruth put down her fork.
“I’m a single person now, too. I mean, a single parent.”
“I wondered. Where did Frank go?”
“He took off about a month ago. Gone to play militia, I guess. I haven’t heard from him. And the girls miss him something terrible.”
Cam patted Ruth’s hand. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. Our marriage had been on the rocks for a while, as you know. If I weren’t mopping up the kids’ tears, I’d be feeling pretty happy. I don’t even know what to tell them.”
“A tough assignment.” Cam grimaced. “What do you say?”
“Daddy’s on a trip, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. It’s the truth.”
“Have you tried to find him? You must have resources at the station.”
Ruth shook her head. “I’m letting it sit for now. Waiting to see how long he stays away. Could be forever.” She picked up her fork again.
“I can babysit now and then, if it would help. Those two would probably push me around something wicked, but it would be fun. You’d come home and find all three of us eating candy and jumping on the beds.”
“Thanks.” Ruth laughed. “I needed that image. Hey, sorry to put a damper on dinner. I haven’t really talked about this with anybody but my mom so far.”
“No problem. At least you have a mom you can talk about stuff with. Mine? I hear from her twice a year, and she never has any idea what’s going on in my life. And doesn’t really ask, either.” Cam shrugged. “But I’m used to it.” Cam gazed down the hallway. She caught sight of the locked cabinet and clapped her hand on her forehead. “The gun!”
“What gun?” Ruth drew her brows together.
Cam almost pushed her chair over rushing to the cabinet under the stairs. “Bev Montgomery threatened me with a gun at the Grog on Thursday.” She grabbed the key from where she’d left it next to a stair baluster and unlocked the cabinet.
“And you didn’t report this?” Ruth’s voice rose.
“Calm down, Sergeant. Bev was harmless, as it turned out, and Albert got a friend of hers to take her home. After I got the gun away from her, that is. I meant to call it in and just forgot.”
Cam showed Ruth the weapon where it still sat in safety. Ruth agreed to leave it there for now, under lock, and she’d fetch it the next time she was on shift.
They spent the next couple of hours eating, drinking, and catching up. Relaxing as if life were simple and things like violent death and disappearing husbands happened in an alternate universe.
After Ruth left, Cam washed the dishes, moving as she cleaned to a Brazilian CD Lucinda had given her. She had no idea what the lyrics were, but not knowing made the music itself more enjoyable. Not that she would have danced to it or anything else in public, but in the privacy of her own house, she didn’t mind trying out a little corporeal self-expression.
When her cell phone rang, she turned the sound down on the CD player and checked the ID. Bobby Burr. She dried her hands on a dish towel, threw it over her shoulder, and answered the phone.
“Cam? It’s Bobby. I’m outside your door. I called so I didn’t freak you out. Can I come in and talk to you?”
Cam checked the clock. Nine forty-five. Late, but not too late to see what was up with him.
“Sure.” She unlocked the door and welcomed him in. He looked somber but, in contrast to a week ago, well rested and as if he’d been showering and doing laundry regularly.
“Seems like déjà vu, sort of,” Cam said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you knock on my door last Saturday night? You know, the night after I saw you out in the field, when you got spooked and split.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I was freaking out.” He tilted his head in a “What can you do?” gesture, extending his hands to the sides and smiling. “I heard you talking to somebody, and I couldn’t handle it.”
“I was actually on the phone with an old friend. What’s going on?”
Bobby’s smile faded. “Sim’s missing.”
“Oh, dear.” Uh-oh. First, Bobby went missing, and now Sim. “Sit and tell me about it.” Cam gestured at the table. “Glass of wine?”
Bobby hesitated for a moment and then said, “Why not?” A smile toyed with his mouth but never quite arriv
ed.
Cam poured a glass for each of them.
“So what do you mean, she’s missing?” She sat opposite him. “How long has she been gone?” She tried to think of the last time she’d seen Sim. It must have been Thursday, when she’d picked up the truck.
“We were supposed to get together tonight.” He took a sip. His hand shook, setting little waves going in his glass before he set it down. “I hung out at the Thirsty Whale for two hours, waiting for her. I went to her apartment. She’s not there. She doesn’t answer her phone.”
“Did you try her cell? Did you check the garage?”
“That is her cell. Us hipsters don’t have landlines, Cam.” He tried at a smile again, but sad eyes and down-sloping eyebrows canceled out the effect. “I went by the garage. She’s not there. I’m afraid she’s in trouble.”
“Why do you think she’s in trouble?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
“What happened after they called her in for questioning this morning? Did they keep her?”
He shook his head. “No. They didn’t have any reason to.”
As far as Cam was concerned, she didn’t know Sim well enough to know she wouldn’t kill anyone. But Bobby obviously had faith in her.
“She’s the one who suggested getting together tonight,” he said.
“Hey, I’m sure she’s fine,” Cam said. “She must have gone out with friends or something.”
“Maybe.” He drank down half his glass and stared into it.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it,” Bobby answered without looking up.
“Are you and Sim dating?” Cam shut her eyes at once, again putting her foot into it. What a delicate way to ask him. She reopened them to see Bobby looking straight at her and starting to laugh.
“No! Why would you—” He squinted at her. “Are you a little bit jealous?”
It was Cam’s turn to object, although maybe she was, a little. “You seem so worried about her, that’s all.”
“We’re buddies. We actually served in the navy together a few years ago. Most people don’t know about that. But it makes a superglue bond between you that never breaks.” He tilted his head, and his eyes flashed at Cam like the old Bobby was back. “Anyway, she prefers women. So there’s no threat there, Ms. Cam.”
Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) Page 22