Mulch Ado about Murder Page 6

  For a few moments the only sounds were the crunch of potato chips, the cheep of a flock of sparrows busily flitting in and out of the lilac bushes near the house, and the occasional car whooshing by on the rural road.

  She had to try. “I just wanted to know how it went,” Cam ventured. “What the police asked you. What you told them. We don’t exactly talk or visit very often.”

  Deb raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. Cam realized her words had sounded like an accusation, but she was as guilty of not reaching out as her parents were.

  “You probably don’t know, either of you, that I have been involved in solving several murders during the past year,” Cam went on.

  “We know about that poor fellow in your hoophouse a year ago,” William said. “And then your barn burning down.”

  Deb nodded. “That must have been very scary for you. Especially after being trapped in that fire when you were little.”

  This was new. “You can say that again.” Her mom had almost never referred to the terrifying incident Cam had been through when she was six. “And I’ve been involved in other murders. I even thought Albert was a target last winter. It turns out I’m kind of good at figuring out who the killers have been.”

  “Do you mean you’ve been acting as a private investigator? Or a consultant to Detective Pappas?” Cam’s mom lifted one eyebrow.

  “Not exactly. Either someone has asked me to help, like when a poultry farmer was murdered a couple of months ago and his daughter wanted me to look into the crime.” The daughter probably regretted asking for Cam’s help after the killer was discovered, but she didn’t need to go into that with her parents. “Or someone I know was falsely accused, like my carpenter last fall. Or a person I loved was in danger, like in the winter with Great-Uncle Albert.”

  “I’m proud of you, honey.” William’s eyes were bright. “But I hope you don’t put yourself in danger.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I try not to.” Cam blew out a breath. “What I’m saying, Mom, is that I would hope you’d share information with me.” Cam turned and gazed at her mother, but Deb kept looking at William across the table.

  “Fine. Here’s what I told them, and it’s the truth.” She sipped lemonade before going on. “I spent half an hour yesterday morning trying to get that woman to see some reason.”

  “That woman being Nicole Kingsbury.”

  “Right. She shouldn’t have been calling a product organic that wasn’t grown in the earth, and I told her so. I was a bit reluctant, since she didn’t seem to be feeling well, but I had to say it.”

  “What do you mean, she wasn’t feeling well?” Cam asked. “How did you know?”

  “She was kind of pale, and kept her hand on her stomach like it hurt.”

  “And it wasn’t the flu or something?” Cam asked.

  “I don’t really know.” Deb shrugged.

  “Did you tell the police about her not feeling well?” Cam leaned forward.

  “No, why should I?”

  “Everything about the victim before she dies could be important. You should call Ivan and tell him.”

  “Fine.” Deb waved her hand in irritation. “Whatever.”

  “How did Nicole react to your confrontation, Deb?” William asked.

  “She didn’t like it. She didn’t agree. But we were respectful with each other, and of course I didn’t kill her.” She faced Cam. “That’s what I told the police.”

  “Felicity knew you had gone into the greenhouse. Did anyone see you come out?” Cam needed to ask Felicity next time she saw her.

  Deb rolled her eyes. “I will not sit here and be interrogated by my own daughter.”

  What? Had Cam’s question merited that kind of response?

  Cam’s mom stood. “Thank you for the lunch, Bill.” She walked with a brisk step toward the back steps, half-eaten sandwich in one hand, head held high.

  Cam sank her head into her hands. “I don’t know why I even try.”

  “It’s who she is, Cammie. It’s who she’s always been and always will be.”

  She lifted her head as she heard the screen door clap shut behind her mother. “Why did you guys have me? Mom is the least maternal person I’ve ever met. Did she want to be a mother?”

  William gazed at the house as if he were gazing into the past. “We were very much in love. We still are, even if that seems odd to you. And we both wanted a child.” He returned his focus to Cam. “I’m sorry if it’s been hard for you, sweetheart. You’re right, she’s not very maternal. But she does love you, in her own way. You must know that.”

  A bluebird swooped past before alighting on the birdhouse Cam had erected where her property bordered the neighbor’s meadow. The sun flashed on the brilliant blue of his wings, a stroke of beauty in contrast with the petty cares of humans.

  * * *

  “Cam!” A girl’s voice reached the tomato field where Cam was setting up a sprinkler several hours later.

  Cam turned to see Ellie Kosloski jogging toward her, her long legs maintaining a smooth stride, her white-blond ponytail bobbing.

  “Hey, Ellie, nice to see you. School just get out for the day?”

  “Pretty much. How’s the season going?” She squatted and ran her fingers over the nearest tomato transplant. Ellie, a Girl Scout and one of Cam’s favorite farm volunteers, was finishing ninth grade.

  “Dry, that’s how. I hope we get some rain, but until we do, it’s me and hoses and hoping the well doesn’t go dry.”

  “Maybe you should dig a pond.” Ellie cocked her head.

  “That’s a pretty big expense. And I’d need a pump, too,” Cam said. “I think the long-range forecast talked about rain next week. So my crops just have to make it until then.”

  Ellie frowned, thin lines appearing in the pale skin of her forehead. “I hope it doesn’t rain on Monday for the parade. Our scout troop is marching. Well, we’re helping the little girls stay in line, the Daisies and the Brownies.”

  “Nice.” Cam had met Ellie a year ago when the girl was working on her locavore badge for Girl Scouts. Ellie had managed to recruit some other ninth graders into the service-minded high school troop, no mean feat for that age. “How’s track going?”

  “Wicked awesome. I came over to work, but I also wanted to invite you to our meet tomorrow afternoon. It’s the last one of the year, and it’s a home meet.”

  Cam thought for a second. “Of course I’ll come.”

  Ellie’s face lit up. “Triton has some pretty fast girls, but I might have a chance of winning. I’m in the mile. It seems so short, though, after cross-country.” She grinned. “I just, like, run all out. It’s sort of fun.” Ellie had grown nearly four inches during the year, most of it in her legs.

  “You’ll do great.”

  “So, Cam, the news was all over school today. They said you found a dead body and that your mom might have murdered Ms. Kingsbury. Your mom?”

  Cam swore. She glanced at Ellie, sure the mild curse wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. “Of course my mother didn’t kill Nicole. But she and my dad are visiting, and my mother somehow got involved in picketing the hydroponics greenhouse.” Cam shook her head. “I’ll introduce you to them both before you leave.”

  Ellie narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to ask around at school tomorrow if anybody knew Ms. Kingsbury or who she hung out with. Maybe I can find some clues.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Cam said. “You really shouldn’t be getting involved in a murder case, anyway. And Detective Hobbs is working the investigation. I doubt he wants help from a student.” Doubt was a real understatement. Ivan would blow his top if he found out a ninth grader was sleuthing.

  “Why isn’t Mr. Pappas investigating?” Ellie studied Cam. “It must be because of him and you going out.”

  “That’s right.” Cam gave a little laugh. She was going to miss the overnights with Pete, the times they snatched from their busy lives to talk, snuggle, and have intimate interludes.
She wondered when he’d even be able to call her. “And because my mother spent some time alone in the greenhouse with Nicole the morning she was killed.”

  “So that’s why the kids are saying she killed Ms. Kingsbury. I get it.”

  “Maybe you can let them know she didn’t, okay?” Cam headed for the post where the water spigot was attached. “How’s the job at Moran Manor?”

  “I wanted to talk with you about that. I think you should hire me to work here after school gets out. We only have three more weeks until vacation.” Ellie’s young face looked hopeful and excited at the same time. “I’m kind of tired of working with old folks. I mean, they’re sweet and everything. But some of them, you know, kind of smell bad. And anyway, I’d rather be growing vegetables.”

  Cam set her hands on her hips and beamed. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather hire. But we’ll have to check it out with your parents. Farming’s really hard work. I work in both hot sun and pouring rain. There’s bugs, mosquitoes—”

  “I kno-o-o-w.” Ellie stretched out the final vowel. “That stuff doesn’t scare me. And you know I’m strong, and I love the work.”

  “Of course you are, and you do. It’s just that volunteering is different than working a job. How old are you now?”

  “I just turned fifteen last week.”

  “And I missed it? I’m so sorry. Happy birthday, late.” Darn. She’d have to make a calendar reminder for next year. “I’ll need to check the rules for hiring minors. I don’t know if they cap the hours you can work or anything. But I’m sure we can work something out. If your mom and dad say you can do it.”

  “They will. That’s so cool. I can’t wait!” Ellie bounced on her hot pink sneakers as if she was on a trampoline. “Thanks, Cam.” She gave her a quick hug. “What should I work on now?”

  Cam thought for a moment. “I have a flat of pepper starts you can plant out. They’re on the ground next to the hoophouse.”

  “I’m on it.” Ellie jogged away.

  After she switched on the water, Cam watched the arc of the sprinkler wave gracefully back and forth across the rows of ankle-high tomato plants. The water reached to the lettuces and other direct-seeded crops. She could almost hear them singing with delight at the much-needed moisture.

  Cam was pretty delighted at the prospect of working with Ellie, too, and wished she’d thought of it herself. Funny, a year ago when Ellie asked if she could shadow Cam to complete the requirements for her badge, Cam had been nervous about hanging out with a child. She’d never spent time around kids and was such a loner she hadn’t really wanted company as she worked. Now she was glad of it, especially from such a breath-of-fresh-air teenager like Ellie. The girl worked hard, showed up on time, and never displayed the sullen, rude behavior of some of her peers.

  “Where do you want me to plant these, Cam?” Ellie asked, appearing at Cam’s side, holding the flat with forty-eight healthy little Lunchbox pepper seedlings. “Your dad said he’ll help.”

  Cam turned to see William standing next to Ellie. They both held trowels, and William had a flat in his arms, too.

  “So you met,” Cam said. “That’s great.”

  “He said he was coming out to work,” Ellie said, smiling up at Cam’s father.

  “If you’ll let me plant, that is,” he said. “I promise not to pull up anything.”

  Cam laughed. “Go ahead. I trust Ellie to supervise you. The seedlings can go in that far row.” Cam pointed. “The soil should be loose and ready. Thanks, you guys.”

  Inhaling the delicious smell of newly wet dirt, she watched as they trudged away together, William almost a foot taller than Ellie. With helpers like them, Cam might get through this crazy season after all.

  * * *

  By six o’clock, Ellie had gone home on her bicycle and William had headed back to the house, saying it was time for a cocktail with Deb. Under Ellie’s supervision, he’d managed not to reverse any plantings, and it had looked like the two of them enjoyed each other’s company as they worked.

  Two hours still remained until sunset, but Cam was done working. Her head hurt and now her throat felt thick. She needed to go in, find one of her herbal cold remedies, drink something medicinal. And figure out what to do about dinner with her parents. Having houseguests was a real burden. When she was alone, Cam just heated up leftovers or downed a bowl of cereal if she didn’t feel like cooking.

  Postponing the inevitable, she sank onto the bench next to the barn for a minute. The slats of wood were warm and smooth against the backs of her knees. She hadn’t been wearing shorts to work last year at this time, but these warm temperatures demanded it. Of course the way New England weather went, this hot, dry May probably meant June would be cold and rainy.

  She pulled out her phone and stared at it, dying to call Pete. But he didn’t want to hear from her, or if he did, he wasn’t allowed to. She admired his integrity. Except at times like this. Instead she pressed Bobby’s number. He’d been so upset at the news about Nicole, and at the prospect of having to deal with his cousin’s ex-husband, too.

  After six rings she was about to disconnect when he answered, breathless.

  “Bobby, it’s Cam. I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’ve been better. A lot better.” He laughed, dry and mirthless. “Just returned from being grilled by the cops. They don’t even let you grieve.”

  “I’m so sorry. Did they say how she died, exactly?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me, but they said it didn’t appear to be by natural causes. How do they know that?”

  “I’m not the person to ask,” she said.

  “They kept asking the same questions, over and over. As if they thought I was lying about something!”

  “What kinds of questions?”

  “Where I was yesterday, for one thing. That one was easy. I’m renovating an antique house in Amesbury, down in the Point Shore area. With two other guys. We were there all day long.”

  “That’s good, at least.”

  “And of course the detective wanted to know if I had any problems with Nicole, or if I knew anyone who did. Cam, you’d met her. She was sweet, wasn’t she? Who would have problems with her? Besides Rudin, that is.”

  Cam wouldn’t have described Nicole as sweet, exactly. More edgy, but certainly not offensive or the kind of person who rubbed others the wrong way. But then she hadn’t really known her except to do a few rounds of business.

  “Have you talked to the ex?” Cam asked.

  “I left him a message. He hasn’t called back.”

  Cam flashed on the Florida plates at Sim’s garage. “Bobby, what does this Rudin look like?”

  “Like a fireplug. Thick, with a nose that looks like it was broken at least once.”

  “Blond and balding?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I saw a car with Florida plates at Sim’s shop today. She described the owner as looking just like that.”

  He swore. “Rudin is here?”

  “I guess. She said he drove here, but the vehicle had problems, so he left it with her and got a rental car.”

  Bobby whistled. “Somebody better tell Detective Hobbs to find him.”

  “For sure.” Cam thought. “I can leave him a message to check out Rudin Kingsbury.”

  “No,” Bobby said. “His last name is Brunelle. Nicole kept her maiden name.”

  “Good to know. I’ll tell Ivan. He made it very clear to me that he is the lead on this case.”

  Bobby barked out a short laugh again. “Too bad your guy Pete isn’t investigating this. He’s all business, but he’s a lot nicer than this Ivan dude.”

  “Pete can’t.”

  “Huh? Why not?”

  Cam explained about Deb’s involvement. She gazed at the barn, beyond which stood the house, where she was going to have to deal with her mother. She’d been acting funny since the death. Her mom had never been the warm and fuzzy type, but Cam couldn’t figure out why Deb refused to tal
k about what had happened. She let out a breath.

  “You don’t see your folks much, do you? You never talk about them.”

  “It’s a long story,” Cam said. “But yeah, I don’t see them much.” She fell silent for a moment, wondering how she and her mom and dad had fallen into a pattern of rare visits. Was it the geographic distance, or something more? “How’s your aunt doing?”

  “Devastated, of course. I’m going over to see her now.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for either of you, please.”

  He thanked her and disconnected. Cam sat still for another couple of minutes. She wished her mom wasn’t involved in the case. Because that would mean she could call Pete, hang out with him, talk with him about it. She scratched at a spot of mud on her knee

  A breeze picked up, fluffing the leaves on the old oak behind the barn like a teenager fixing her hair. A cloud blotted out the slanting sunlight. Cam sniffed. Let it be rain coming. Let it be rain.

  Chapter 9

  An hour later Cam faced her parents across a table at The Market. It was an upscale restaurant in Newburyport owned by Jake Ericsson, the chef she’d gone out with the year before. She often sold produce to him, and it was one of the nicest restaurants the region had to offer.

  Dark pink napkins were folded on the pink tablecloths, and white votive candles flickered in jelly jars next to a single pink carnation in a bud vase. Large matted photographs of colorful vegetables and farm scenes decorated the brick walls. She even saw a shot of her own asparagus field in May. The picture had been taken from a few inches off the ground, the narrow foot-high spears marching off into the distance like skinny green soldiers. Had Jake himself taken it last year?

  Cam felt herself melting into her chair, relaxing after the long day of work and worry. The second sip of a chilled Vouvray didn’t hurt, either. After her father had suggested they all go out to dinner, she’d agreed to let him drive them in the rental car, and she planned to have as much wine as she wanted. It soothed both her scratchy throat and her edgy nerves. Her mom actually seemed to be relaxing, too.