Mulch Ado about Murder Read online

  “No. They never asked me about the house. And I didn’t know what the ex looked like at the time.”

  “I assume you’re willing to tell them when I call in the license plate?’

  “Yes, I suppose,” Deb said.

  “Wait, Mom. You knew Nicole in the rehab place. You never met her husband?”

  “No. She said he was working a lot. I’m sure he visited in the evenings, but he never came while I was there.”

  William ambled toward the car. He stood outside the passenger door and stretched his arms to the sky. He leaned his forearms on the open window and stuck his head inside. “Not yet?”

  “Nope,” Cam answered.

  A red convertible with the top down sped down the block from the brewery and screeched to a halt at the stop sign just beyond the gas station.

  “I see them,” Deb whispered.

  Rudin drove, with Geneva in the passenger seat. The directional signal blinked on the left side like a metronome. Cross traffic on Route 1 was heavy. As they waited to turn, Cam tried to snap a picture of the license plate, but she was too much to the side of the car. Another car pulled up behind the convertible.

  “Daddy, here.” She shoved the phone at him. “You know how to use a phone camera, right? Try to get around the back. Quick!”

  He took the phone and straightened, but whacked his head as he did. He swore as he stood. He’d taken two steps toward the road and lifted the phone in front of him when Geneva turned her head. Cam watched as her eyes widened. She pulled on Rudin’s sleeve and pointed at William. Rudin glanced over. The car behind honked. Rudin looked forward again at a gap in the cars and accelerated into the turn with a squeal of tires. Geneva kept her eyes on Cam’s father until the red car disappeared around a bend.

  Chapter 17

  “No, Ivan, we weren’t following them,” Cam said into her cell phone for the second time. “We just happened to be in the same place at the same time, at the Throwback Brewery in North Hampton. We’d arrived first, and then Rudin showed up.” She watched the woods on the side of Route 95 speed by as her mother drove south toward Massachusetts. “In fact, we specifically did not follow them.”

  “Did you catch the make of the car, the plate number?” Ivan asked.

  Cam read out the license plate number from the receipt she’d scribbled it on after the convertible drove away. “You didn’t already have it from the rental car agency?”

  Ivan sighed. “Make of the car?”

  “It was a red convertible, but I don’t know what kind.”

  “Mustang,” William chimed in.

  Cam pressed the speaker icon. “Say it again, Dad.”

  “The car was a Mustang,” he repeated.

  “I might have a picture on my phone,” Cam said. “I’ll check after I disconnect and send it to you if it’s any good.”

  “Please do,” Ivan said.

  “And Rudin was with a woman named Geneva Flores,” Cam said. “Long black hair, attractive, maybe thirty-five, maybe forty. They’re staying in an Airbnb somewhere.”

  “And you learned that how?” Ivan kept his words short and terse.

  “It just came up in conversation.” Cam crossed her fingers, something she was making quite a practice of this week.

  “Anything else I need to know?” he asked.

  “My mother has something to add.” Cam handed the phone up to her father, who held it up in the direction of her mom. The closed windows kept the noise of the highway at bay, so her voice should be audible. This small rental sedan definitely wasn’t a Mustang, but it still had a new-car smell. Cam, seated behind William, stretched her feet into the space behind Deb’s seat. She wasn’t exactly built for the back seat of an economy vehicle.

  “Yes, Professor Flaherty?” Ivan said.

  “I saw that man, this Brunelle guy, coming out of the small house behind the greenhouse that morning right after I arrived.” Deb kept her eyes on the road and steered left through the E-ZPass lane of the toll station.

  “Why didn’t you tell us that in the initial interview?” Ivan asked.

  “I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t even know that was Nicole’s house. I’m telling you now.”

  “Was he walking openly? Or moving like he was trying to hide?”

  Cam watched her mom from the back seat. She seemed to be calmly driving and talking, but her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were shiny with spots of white.

  “He came out of the house. I didn’t see him crouch or move suddenly or anything. And I don’t know where he went. I was busy setting up our signs. He must have driven away.”

  Cam narrowed her eyes at her mom. Wouldn’t she have seen a red convertible drive away? The stress in her hands made it seem like Deb was still hiding something. Oh, Mom. Please don’t.

  “Did you see the Flores woman, too?” Ivan asked.

  “No. I’d never seen her before today,” Deb said.

  “Thank you. Might you have any other detail you forgot to share?” Ivan pronounced “forgot” like he didn’t believe it.

  Deb waited a beat before she answered. “No.”

  “I trust you’ll be around in case of further questions,” Ivan said. “All of you, I mean.”

  Deb and William exchanged a glance.

  “I’ll be around, of course,” Cam said in a rush. “By the way, have you checked out Orson Page yet? I told you about him, the guy who runs a hydroponics greenhouse in Salisbury, Fresh Page. Nicole presented new competition for him, the only competition, really.”

  “And you think a business owner is going to murder someone to eliminate competition.” Ivan’s voice dripped scorn.

  He had a lot of nerve. “Not my job to think about it. You asked if I had any other detail and I’m telling you one. We visited Orson’s greenhouse earlier this afternoon. He said he’d never met Nicole and hadn’t been in her greenhouse, but he described her all-new equipment. It seemed odd to me. You could at least check out his alibi.”

  “Thank you,” Ivan said. “I guess.”

  You’re not welcome. “Can I get into Nicole’s greenhouse to retrieve my seedlings?” Cam asked. “They need water by now, and I’d hate to have them die.”

  “Contact the local police. I’ll tell them to let you in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And you, Professor?” Ivan pressed. “Anything else?”

  Deb cleared her throat. “My husband and I have airline tickets to leave on Tuesday. We’re traveling to a research site in Brazil.”

  Ivan’s barely contained frustration came through loud and clear. “That might not be possible, ma’am. I’ll be in touch.” He disconnected the call.

  “They can’t keep us here,” Deb exclaimed. “Right?”

  “I don’t believe he can force us to stay,” William said. “Not unless they arrest you. Which would be absurd.”

  Cam watched as her mother stole another look at William. Deb’s gaze lingered on him until she looked back at the road in front of them. She steered the car over the beautiful, new John Greenleaf Whittier Bridge that crossed the wide Merrimack River, the structure’s pale blue arches gleaming graceful in the late-day sun.

  Ivan would need cause, evidence, to arrest Deb. Surely he didn’t have that. Or did he?

  Chapter 18

  At the farm, Cam first grabbed Dasha’s bed and filled his dinner bowl. She headed for the barn and let the dog out, leaving his bed in a corner near some hay bales. He ran to a tree to relieve himself, then trotted back to Cam.

  “How you doing, big guy?” She rubbed his head and received a kiss on the hand in return. “Sorry about having to stay in the barn. It’s only until Tuesday.” Or whenever Pete came to pick up Dasha. Pete. She hadn’t heard from him all day. That was kind of unusual, especially when she had his dog. He must be busy with the case in Salem.

  She secured the chickens in the coop. She headed into the hoophouse to water her seedlings in the soft, early evening light as Dasha sat and observe
d. The gentle spray from the watering wand arched over the table to wet the infant plants. Watering was definitely meditative for Cam. Watching the spray calmed and cleaned her jangled thoughts. Smelling the wet soil reassured her that life continues, that despite the apparent murder of a fellow grower, the cycle of growth was universal and never-ending.

  Despite her attraction to sleuthing, her job was to nourish her plants, big and small. Ivan’s job was to sort out who killed Nicole Kingsbury. Thinking about Nicole, though, reminded Cam of what Bobby had said yesterday. Rudin had claimed to be broken up about losing his wife. So why was he already with another woman, and a gorgeous one, at that? He could have been lying to Bobby—but why?

  As she watered, Cam remembered the flats of basil she’d brought to Nicole. She needed to call the station and make sure she could get into the greenhouse and pick up her flats. Cam turned off the hose and connected with the Westbury police, asking for Ruth. Miracle of miracles, she was at the station. She came on the line.

  “Ruthie, Ivan said I could go into the greenhouse and get my seedlings. I was on my way to deliver a couple of flats to Nicole when I found her dead, and I wanted to bring those home.”

  “Sure,” Ruth said. “I’ll meet you at the greenhouse in twenty?”

  Cam thanked her and disconnected. “Come on, Dasha. It’s back to the hotel for you.” He followed her to the barn but stopped short of the door. He planted his feet and barked into the twilight. He looked at Cam and barked again.

  “What is it?” She looked all around. The sun had descended behind the row of trees to the west, but some light lingered. “Is it a coyote, or a fox?” She’d seen both on the property, one reason she made sure her chicken girls were snug inside every night. She didn’t hear a rustling or any sign of predators. No living shadows lurked behind the trees or headed for the coop—not that she could detect, anyway.

  Dasha barked again, then let out a long howl. Cam shivered as she knelt next to him and stroked his head. Beyond the barn to the east she glimpsed a silver orb rising. It was full tonight. Maybe Dasha’s inner wolf was calling to him to salute the moon.

  “Come on, Dash. Let’s go in.” She persuaded him to follow her into the barn, where she topped up his water before locking him in. She headed for the house, pausing in the backyard. The warm light from inside the farmhouse beckoned, but Dasha was still barking in the barn. Why? Could there be a human predator nearby? If someone was hanging around, she couldn’t do anything about it. She’d put good locks on the barn earlier in the year, so Dasha was safe in there. She had good locks on the house, too. She wasn’t going to call the cops with no proof that an intruder had in fact invaded her space.

  Cam popped her head into the house. “Daddy, Mom? I’m going into town to get my seedlings.”

  William emerged from the living room, newspaper in hand. “Your mother has already gone up, said she was going to do some work in bed.” He raised a shoulder and dropped it. “She’s like that. I’ll come with you, if it’s all right.” He reached out and laid a hand on Cam’s shoulder. “I hate the thought of leaving so soon. I’m enjoying our visit, sweetie.”

  Whoa. Another confidence from a long-distant parent, another expression of affection. Another shake to her snow-globe world, albeit a welcome one. “Me too, Daddy.” Cam grabbed her truck keys. “Come on, then. It’s been a long day.” After her father followed her out, Cam made sure the door was locked.

  As they drove down the hill, William said, “What was Dasha barking about in the barn?”

  “I don’t know. Something seems to have spooked him. He was howling at the moon for a minute, but now he’s just barking.”

  “He probably misses being in the house.”

  “That could be.” Cam steered them past the town ball fields. “So Mom talked about her issue with dogs as we walked today. I never knew.”

  “Yes, she was pretty scarred by that incident—and not just on her leg. I’ve urged her to seek counseling over the years, but she says she’d rather simply stay away from canines altogether.”

  “You always said we couldn’t have a dog for a pet because you and Mom traveled every summer. It made sense.”

  “Your mother was not interested in telling you about her fears. I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Now that I think about it,” Cam said, “I remember her always avoiding dogs when we’d be out walking anywhere. I didn’t feel afraid of dogs, but her feelings must have rubbed off on me. I was never interested in getting a dog, and Dasha’s really the first one I’ve gotten to know well.”

  Cam turned left onto Main Street. A quarter mile down the road she pulled into the greenhouse parking lot and turned off the engine. She didn’t see a cruiser anywhere, so Ruth must not have arrived yet. A wide strip of yellow tape stretched across the greenhouse door at the end facing the street, proclaiming CRIME SCENE—DO NOT CROSS in convincingly stern black letters. Cam climbed out of the truck and walked to the back end of the greenhouse. The cottage behind was dark. The moonlight revealed an identical strip of tape across the front door to the house. Had a crime been committed in the house, too?

  Her father stood beside her. He glanced back at the street and at the house again. He ambled out to the sidewalk and stood under a streetlight.

  “Come here, Cameron.” He beckoned to her.

  Cam took one last look at the house, then joined her father. “What is it?”

  He pointed toward the back. “You can’t see the house from here. It’s blocked by the greenhouse. And with the insurance company right next door, this is the only exit from the parking lot.”

  Cam looked across to the insurance company building twenty feet away. It didn’t have a wide profile on the street but instead stretched away toward the back, with the main door halfway down. She glanced past the greenhouse. Daddy was right. She couldn’t see the house from here.

  “Are you saying that Mom couldn’t have missed a red convertible leaving the parking lot?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “He could have parked somewhere else and walked.”

  “I don’t peg that man as a walker, Cam.”

  “I think I agree. Anyway, Mom couldn’t have seen Rudin from here.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But if she’d parked back in the lot, she would have had a view of the house.”

  “We’ll have to ask her that.” William frowned.

  Cam thought about that first day. “No, that won’t work. That day when Nicole was killed, Felicity told Ruth they had all parked across the street. Probably because this is a private lot and they didn’t want to get in trouble for using it.”

  “Your mother has admitted she went into the greenhouse and talked with Nicole.”

  “Yes. But she told Ivan she saw Rudin when she first arrived. Something’s not right, Daddy.”

  “The question is, can we convince your mother to tell us what she’s hiding. I’m not optimistic about that.”

  * * *

  Ruth pulled up a few minutes later in a small SUV while Cam and William stood next to the rental car in the greenhouse parking lot. Ruth, clad in civilian clothes, emerged and hugged Cam.

  “I was just going off shift,” Ruth said “I have to get home and see my girlies.”

  Ruth’s fraternal-twin daughters, age six, were favorites of Cam’s. They were as different as could be in temperament and appearance, but both were sweet and smart and fun to be around.

  “I’ll be quick,” Cam said. “The kids are with your mom?” Ruth’s troubled husband had left during the previous year, and despite surfacing last winter had not rejoined Ruth and the girls.

  “Yes, bless her sainted heart. If she didn’t live nearby and wasn’t willing to watch the twins after school and when I have to work on weekends, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “You’re lucky to have her.” Cam introduced her father and Ruth.

  “Please call me William,” he said to Ruth. “We met many years ago, of course, when we picked Cammi
e up from the farm at the end of summer one year. The two of you had been swimming, and she didn’t want to come home. I’m glad you’re still friends.”

  Ruth cocked her head. “I can almost remember that. It was a long time ago.”

  Cam wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t recall that scene.

  Ruth held up a zippered plastic bag holding a key. “You want in?” She walked to the back door of the greenhouse, which was also protected by crime scene tape, and detached the tape on one side.

  Cam touched her friend’s elbow. “Was a crime committed in the house, too?” She pointed toward the cottage. The illumination from the streetlight barely reached back to where they stood, but the rising moon cast its cold eye on the small one-story abode and the yellow tape across its front door.

  “Detective Hobbs insisted on the tape on that door. As far as I know, no crime was committed in there. But I suppose an overabundance of caution never hurt anyone.” She unlocked the door, pulled it open, and flipped on the light switch. “After you.”

  The bright overhead lights lit up the interior like a movie set. Cam felt like tiptoeing in, except who did she think she was being quiet for? Nicole was long gone. Cam paused inside. Behind her William cleared his throat.

  “Where did you find her?” he whispered.

  “Back in that corner,” Cam whispered in return. She pointed past the long rows of white pipes. Seeing them, new and hopeful, was a stark contrast to Orson’s faded, older, no doubt leakier system. In here, though, the ventilation fan no longer hummed. The pump for the irrigation must have been turned off, too. The already planted seedlings drooped sad and wilted.

  “Um, folks, we don’t have to whisper,” Ruth said in a normal voice.

  “You’re right.” Cam laughed nervously. “Thanks for letting us in, Ruthie. So do you know if they’ve made any progress finding Nicole’s killer?”

  “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be,” Ruth paused to make finger quotes, “ ‘following procedure’ for Ivan to inform me of the status.” She pulled a wry smile. “And Cam, I’m sorry, but I do have to return the key and head for home. I promised the kiddley-winks I’d be home to tuck them in, and bedtime is upon us.”