Mulch Ado about Murder Page 10

  “I’m glad,” Cam said. “I haven’t been up to Portland in a while.” She scraped up the last bit of potatoes. “That was delicious, Daddy.”

  Deb looked at Cam. “I’ve been thinking about poor Nicole. She really didn’t seem well that morning when I was talking with her. I wonder what it was.”

  Now she’s talking about the death? Cam’s head reeled from the whiplash, but she didn’t want to ignore this opening.

  “I’d never seen her like that before,” Deb went on.

  “Wait. You knew her before?” Cam wrinkled her nose. “Where? Not here. You just got here.”

  “Remember we spent a sabbatical year at Miami University a few years ago?” Deb asked. “Along with my teaching and research, I volunteered in a rehabilitation facility in the area, a place for people recovering from surgery and injuries. I gave talks about our travels and such.”

  Her mom continued to surprise. Volunteering had never been part of her life when Cam was growing up.

  “Nicole had been in a bad car accident. Even though she was fifteen years younger than I am, we became friendly. That’s why, when I heard she was the greenhouse owner, I thought I could persuade her to change her growing practices.”

  “But Mom, why didn’t you want to talk with me about her? And did you tell the police you’d known her?”

  “I just didn’t want to get into it, all right? And no, I didn’t tell them. If they knew we were acquainted prior, I might be a more plausible suspect.”

  William shook his head. “I told her she needed to come clean. But she refused.”

  “You have to.” Cam focused all her attention on her mother. “You didn’t kill her. You didn’t have any reason to want her dead. You need to call Ivan right now and tell him.”

  Deb shook her head. “It’s not like anything bad happened between us in Florida.”

  “He’ll find out and it will look much, much worse for you.” Cam couldn’t believe her extra-intelligent mother was being so stupid about this.

  “They won’t find out,” she said. “Who would tell them?”

  Me, that’s who.

  “Well,” her father said in a bright tone. “What fun thing shall we do today? How about a walk on the beach later?”

  Cam waited a moment before speaking. Her mother withholding information from the authorities was serious. But Cam couldn’t do anything about it now, and her father clearly wanted to change the subject. “Sure,” she said. “And I’ll take you to a very cool brewpub after. The owners buy some of my produce. The food they serve is really good, as is the beer. We can sit outside.”

  Twenty minutes later Cam checked the clock. Nine o’clock. She’d done the breakfast dishes while her parents read the Sunday paper in the living room. They’d all agreed to go to the beach in the early afternoon. Cam still needed to press her mother about why she felt so strongly about dogs, but first she had more work to do outside. And she wanted to follow up with Helen, too, since she’d been about to tell Cam something on the phone last night. She didn’t know if Helen was a churchgoer, but if not, Cam could take Dasha out for a walk and pop by for a visit at the same time. The Fisher farm was not far through the woods from Attic Hill Farm.

  “I’m heading out back to work,” she called to Deb and William.

  “Do you want help?” William asked

  “I’m good, thanks.” She popped her phone into her back pocket. Outside she untied and unleashed Dasha and ran him a bowl of water in the barn. “You might have to sleep out here for a couple of nights,” she told him.

  He ignored her, sloppily lapping up the water as if he’d been in the desert for a week. She called Helen, who said she’d be home at eleven and would be happy for a quick visit. Cam resolved to take a lesson from Dasha and ignore the cares of the world for a couple of hours.

  * * *

  Helen handed Cam a glass of iced coffee and sank with her own glass into a lawn chair opposite Cam. They sat under a big oak in the front yard of Helen’s white farmhouse. Pink and purple petunias spilled over blue window boxes that matched the trim on the house. Dasha sat in a sphinx pose next to Cam, having slurped up the water Helen had brought him.

  “Thanks.” Cam asked. Her T-shirt was damp around the neck from the exertion of the walk, and she was glad she’d changed into denim shorts before heading out. She sipped the sweet, cold milky coffee. “This is perfect. It’s another warm day, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” Helen raised her eyebrows. “How are your crops doing?” She stretched her Capri-clad legs out in front of her and crossed them at the ankles, one of which was adorned with a small tattoo of a butterfly.

  “It’s going to be iffy for some of them. I can’t seem to water them enough. How about your farm? Are you still keeping pigs?” Last fall had been a tough time for this family, and their pigs had suffered. Cam caught a whiff of freshly cut grass in the air but none of the stench that keeping swine usually brought.

  Helen’s smile was a sad one. “We only have the two now. Vince is too busy to spend much time with them, and he’ll be off to college in the fall. I don’t mind the work, and continuing the farm keeps us in the agricultural tax bracket. But I have to get one slaughtered soon, or we won’t appear to be a working farm, and I’ll need to get a piglet to replace him.”

  Cam touched the cool glass to her cheek. “I’ll buy some meat from you if you’re selling. You can’t beat slow-roasted pork.”

  “It’s a deal. I’ll let you know.”

  Cam’s gaze fell on the barn to the side of the house. It was freshly painted and no longer sagged. “Looks like you had some work done on the barn.”

  “Yes. It was either that or tear it down.” Helen took a sip of coffee, cradling the glass in both hands. “So I was telling you about all the questions the detective asked me.”

  Cam nodded with what she hoped was an encouraging look.

  “He kept asking me what I’d seen,” Helen said. “Did I see anybody going in or out of the greenhouse that day? Did I ever see anyone except Ms. Kingsbury go into the house behind? How long had Carlos been with us? And so on.”

  “What did you tell him?” At a little noise she glanced down at Dasha, who was now asleep on his side. He was having doggie dreams, complete with quick a movement of one of his feet and a faint whimper.

  “It’s true that my desk is right next to the front window of our offices. I like it that way, even though it can be a little bit distracting.” She ran a quick hand through her chin-length sandy hair, hair the same color as Vince’s. “So I saw the woman with the ponytail go into the greenhouse.”

  The woman with the ponytail. My mom.

  Helen continued, “I never saw anybody but Nicole come or go from her house, but of course I’m only in the office from eight-thirty to five.”

  “What about Carlos?” Cam asked. A couple of crows squawked from high in the oak. With a rustle of leaves a hawk flew out from the canopy. With a few beats of its wings it arrived on the peak of the barn roof and perched there, erect and haughty.

  “That’s the thing. I’d been in a meeting with our boss in the back. When I came back to my desk, I saw Carlos in the parking lot right near the greenhouse. He was staring at the door, then he hurried toward our building. I saw you looking at him before you went in.”

  “You do see everything, don’t you?”

  Helen laughed. “Almost. Anyway, I didn’t feel I could ask Carlos if he’d been in the greenhouse. But I told the detective everything I just told you.”

  “Good.” Unlike Mom, at least some people told the police the truth. “Did you ever happen to see a kind of stocky man go in the greenhouse?” She thought back to Sim’s description. “Balding, thickset, with short blond hair?”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “I did.

  So Rudin not only left his car at Sim’s but also went to see Nicole. That could be important. Or it could be an innocent visit from a divorced husband curious about Nicole’s new business.

  “Le
t’s see, what day was that?” Helen asked. “That poor woman died on Thursday, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then it must have been Wednesday, because I leave work at three that day every week to visit my mother in the nursing home. The stocky man was coming out of the greenhouse as I left our building.”

  “Can you do me a favor and let Detective Hobbs know that?”

  “Sure. But who is this guy?”

  “I think he’s Nicole’s ex-husband, Rudin Brunelle. I haven’t met him myself, but that’s apparently what he looks like.”

  “That’s interesting. So he was probably the first person the police wanted to talk to. Isn’t that what they say in the cop shows, that they suspect spouses before anyone else?”

  A small bell dinged in the distance. Ellie and Vince appeared down the driveway on bicycles, racing each other toward the house and laughing. The finish looked like a tie to Cam when they pulled to a stop, cheeks flushed, hair flying. The sight of two healthy, happy teenagers with zero involvement in a suspicious death had never been so welcome.

  Chapter 15

  “We have time. Do you mind if we stop in to see Fresh Page Hydroponics on the way to the beach?” Cam asked from the back seat of her parents’ rental car. They’d set out at two o’clock for Rye on the New Hampshire coast, but passing through Salisbury was on the way, mostly. She was curious about Orson Page. He’d said he’d never met Nicole, but that seemed odd, not to have checked out the competition, even introduced himself to her. “Orson said to come for a visit.”

  “It’s fine. Just give me directions,” William said.

  “Great. Another nonorganic hydroponics farm,” Deb grumbled.

  Ten minutes later they’d found the place in a scenic spot on Ferry Road. The greenhouse, boasting a Fresh Page Hydroponics sign on the road, was clearly visible behind an old colonial farmhouse.

  William turned in and drove past the house, which featured a new-looking wheelchair ramp of pressure-treated lumber that zigzagged up to the side door. He parked next to the greenhouse. It was bigger than Nicole’s, and older. The sign above the door matched the one on the road but was faded and slightly off-kilter. A piece of the plastic that enclosed the structure flapped at the corner, and the rest of the covering was yellowed and dirty. Cam was surprised Orson didn’t have the sides rolled up in this heat. Maybe it was okay for a hydroponics greenhouse to be hot inside.

  Cam opened the car door. “Do you want to see, too?” she asked her parents.

  “I do,” her father said.

  “I’ll wait here.” Deb pulled out her phone. “I have no interest whatsoever in supporting such a venture.”

  “As you wish,” Cam said as she climbed out.

  “Leave your door open for air, would you?” Deb called after her.

  William followed Cam to the door of the greenhouse. “Think it’s okay to just go in?” he asked.

  “Sure.” Cam pulled open the door, which squealed a rusty-hinge complaint. “Hello? Orson?” she called out. Long rows of what looked like house gutters—dingy, white, square-edged pipes—stretched in front of her, unlike the new, bright white, round pipes in Nicole’s greenhouse. The bright green herbs in Orson’s didn’t seem to care their containers were old. Most of the healthy-looking crops seemed to be basil, but she also spied parsley and cilantro, and some others toward the back she couldn’t identify.

  “This is some outfit,” William said. He brushed his hand over the closest basil plant and sniffed. “Ah, takes me back to Ethiopia.”

  “Basil in Ethiopia?” Cam asked.

  “It was colonized by the Italians, you know. They grow basil everywhere there.”

  The door creaked open behind them. “Hello, there.” Orson stood in the entrance. “What do you think?” Once again he wore a denim work shirt with sleeves too short for his long arms.

  Cam greeted him. “The plants look happy.”

  “Sure are.”

  “Do you start all your own seedlings, too?” Cam asked. It was a lot of work for one person.

  “Yup.” Orson pointed toward the back. “I do it down at the end, plus I have a smaller hoophouse out behind, just for the starts. My business model requires frequent cutting and replanting. So far it’s working.”

  “And now your new competition is gone, too.” William looked calmly at Orson, eye to eye since they were about the same height.

  Cam shot a glance at her father. Was he also thinking Orson could have killed Nicole to eliminate the competition?

  “What’s that?” Orson shifted his feet. “You mean that new lady in Westbury? I heard on the news she’d expired. Shame. I don’t think she was too old.”

  “I wonder what they’re going to do with all that new equipment,” William said.

  “Search me,” Orson said. “She had quite the fancy setup in her place. Maybe they’ll sell it off cheap. I could use some new pipes, myself.”

  Orson had said at Moran Manor he’d never met Nicole. But he’d seen the inside of her greenhouse? “Did you help her get set up?” Cam asked.

  “No.” He shifted his eyes away from Cam’s gaze. “She never asked me. I just meant it must be all new. You know, I haven’t seen much of a market for used hydroponic equipment. Even mine was new once.” He gazed over his crops, his shoulders sloping, the big grin nowhere to be seen. “Now, with my wife laid up? I don’t have any money to spare for sprucing up the place.”

  * * *

  “See, I told you it was worth the drive.” She and her parents stepped onto the sand from the metered parking lot at Jenness Beach in Rye and walked toward the water. Cam pointed at the flat beach stretching out on both sides, the waves rising up and breaking with hypnotic regularity, the array of gulls sitting in silence as if they were meditating Buddhists. Plenty of beachgoers occupied towels and chairs, and a few umbrellas dotted the expanse. In August this beach was packed with families and sun worshippers. A half-dozen black-clad surfers floated astride their boards, waiting for the next big swell. It was still early in the season, and Cam knew from experience the water was way too cold for swimming without a wet suit.

  Deb’s face lit up as she looked left and right. She plopped down on the sand and tore off her sneakers and socks. “I’m going for a run.” She threaded her ponytail through the Red Sox cap Cam had lent her and set off toward the water.

  Cam watched her mother jog away from them at the water’s edge, her red T-shirt a bright spot growing smaller. William also sat and removed his socks and shoes. At least today he was wearing cargo shorts instead of irregularly chopped-off khakis. He slid his glasses into one of his sneakers and pulled his polo shirt off, folding it neatly on top of the shoes. His scrawny chest was so pale it looked like he hadn’t been shirtless outdoors in decades.

  “I’m going in.” He stood and slid the shorts down to reveal a faded bathing suit.

  “Daddy, the water is way too cold. You’ll die if you go in.”

  “I can’t be at the ocean without going in.” He beamed, spreading his elbows wide as he took in a noisy inhale and made fists of determination. He took off for the water on his long, skinny legs.

  Cam shook her head. “I’ll be right here with the towels.” She spread a blue beach towel the color of the sky next to the shoes and clothes and sat with her feet in the sand. She slid off her flip-flops, leaned back on her hands, and wiggled her calves and toes in the warm grains, glad she’d changed into a swingy short skirt for the outing. But her mind dwelt on her conversation with Helen. Once the kids had arrived, they’d chatted with Ellie and Vince, and then Cam had walked Dasha back to her farm. She assumed Ivan would follow up on Helen’s having seen Rudin coming out of the greenhouse. And she’d seen Carlos near the door to the greenhouse, too. Had he been inside?

  A tern swooped over her head and toward the water. The small, white bird with a black head flew parallel to the surface for a moment. It paused, beating its pointed wings, then dive-bombed straight into the water. With a furious f
lap of wings, it came up again carrying a tiny, wriggling fish in its beak.

  Her thoughts strayed to what her mom had said about knowing Nicole. How could she convince Deb to tell Ivan? It was serious business to withhold that kind of information from an investigation. Maybe Deb was so used to being a successful professor she thought she could decide what was important and what wasn’t. Cam thought about Orson. Surely his remark about Nicole’s equipment was innocent. Or was it? She’d have to remember to let Ivan know. But not now. Her phone was in the car and she was leaving it there.

  Cam traced a circle in the sand with her finger. A boy and a girl dashed by laughing, veering past Cam’s towel and spraying up sand from their feet, full of the same happy innocence as Ellie’s and Vince’s. An innocence not involved in death.

  William still stood at water’s edge, the water running up and around his feet before it washed out again. His ankles had to be numb by now, Cam thought. She watched as he threw his elbows out again and marched straight in. When a wave caught him at waist level, he stretched his arms to the side but kept pushing forward. A high breaker loomed in front of him. He dove into the curl.

  Her father surfaced and shook his head fast. Cam laughed as he jogged back toward shore, lifting his bony knees in a kind of leaping run. She grabbed a towel and hurried toward him.

  “Here.” She extended the towel a moment later, standing a couple of feet from the water. “Cold enough for you?”

  “Thank you, Cameron.” He rubbed his face before wrapping the towel around his thin shoulders. “It was bracing.” He was still beaming. “Positively bracing.”

  “You’re a better man than me. I can barely stand it even in August.”

  Cam’s mother ran up from the opposite direction than where she’d headed. “I see you found the saltwater irresistible.” Breathing hard, she smiled at William.

  “Wait,” Cam said. “How’d you . . .” She frowned and looked right and left.

  “I reached the end and then ran past to the other end.” Deb pointed.

  “I must have missed you,” Cam said.

  “I need a bit of a cooldown. Walk with me?” Deb asked, looking at Cam.