Mulch Ado about Murder Page 7

  A waitress in a crisp white shirt and long black half-apron brought a basket of crusty sliced sourdough and a little mound of butter in the shape of a tulip.

  “All set to order?” she asked.

  Cam glanced up from the menu. “I’ll have the sautéed scallops with braised spinach.” It was one of the chef’s specialties.

  William ordered the roasted chicken with herbed potatoes, and Deb the brown rice vegetable risotto.

  “I’ll have the mixed greens salad, too,” Cam said. Interesting. At the bottom of the menu it said herbs were grown by Fresh Page Hydroponics. Orson Page was everywhere.

  “Split the spring rolls, honey?” William asked Deb.

  “They’re very good,” Cam said.

  “Why not?” Deb said. “I’m quite fond of them.”

  “You got it,” the waitress said, collecting our menus.

  Deb sipped the martini she’d ordered. “This is a lovely place. You said you know the owner?” she asked Cam.

  “Yes. We dated for a while last summer.” How much did she want to go into her history with Jake? “He’s a brilliant chef.” And a mercurial and jealous lover, she didn’t add. “He had to go back to Sweden to straighten out his immigration status, but he found a good replacement chef for the kitchen.”

  “Will we have any of your crops in our dinner tonight?” William asked. He sipped his seltzer.

  “No, it’s too early. I’ll be lucky if I have enough for my shareholders next week. But later in the summer you would.” Cam wrinkled her nose. “Shoot, I forgot to call the detective. Mind if I make a quick call?”

  “Cameron, what in the world are you calling the police about?” Deb’s face turned stormy. “Can’t you simply let them do their job without your interference?”

  Cam’s shoulders dropped. The pleasant air of their outing was gone. She should have simply excused herself and made the call in the hallway to the restrooms. “Mom, I talked with my friend Bobby Burr this afternoon, Nicole’s cousin. I need to tell Ivan that Nicole’s ex-husband is in town.” She spoke slowly to make sure her message came across loud and clear. “I saw his car at my friend’s auto repair shop. That’s all.”

  Deb waved her hand and looked away. “Do what you must.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Cam stood. She made her way toward the hallway. The restroom doors were beyond the swinging door to the kitchen. As she passed the kitchen door, she heard the clatter of pans and dishes, the chatter of the cooks and waitstaff. She headed to the quieter end of the hall, found Ivan’s card in her bag, and tapped the number into her phone. She heaved a sigh of gratitude when it went straight to voice mail.

  After she identified herself, she said, “Detective, I think you might want to check out a car with Florida plates parked at SK Foreign Auto in Westbury.” She told him about Rudin and what Bobby had said. She disconnected but remained leaning against the wall. How could she get her mom to open up to her? Would she ever crack Deb’s shell? Cam understood shells, for sure. Hers had been a lot thicker a year ago. Maybe that was why she recognized her mother’s self-protective shield better than she ever had. To Cam, Deb’s now seemed more brittle than it had been.

  The door to the kitchen swung out. Cam stared as a man hurried toward her. Half a foot taller than Cam, he wore black-checked pants and a black chef’s tunic with a multicolored skull cap not quite covering his dark blond hair. She cleared her throat.

  Jake Ericsson widened his eyes. “Cam! I didn’t know you were here.” He smiled and opened his arms. A shadow passed over his face, and he dropped them.

  “And I didn’t know you were back. How are you? Did you get everything worked out?” She didn’t know if she should hug him, shake hands, or do nothing. She chose the last. Their relationship had been intensely romantic but also insanely turbulent.

  “I’m all legal now.” He nodded slowly. “Just got back last week. I was going to call you, but . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “I’m glad you’re all squared away, then. I’m here with my parents.” She kept her tone light. “Had to bring them to the best restaurant around.”

  “The elusive academics. I’ll come out and say hello later. If you want me to, that is.” His voice was tentative.

  “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  He gazed at her. “Are we?” He glanced around and said in a low voice, “I had some counseling about my issues with anger while I was home. I learned a lot. Ways to cope, that kind of thing.”

  “I’m glad.” She hoped what he’d learned would stick.

  “I’m sorry for last year,” he went on. “I wanted you to know that.”

  “Thank you.” She had moved on, and he knew it, but she could tell the apology was heartfelt. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  He gave himself a little shake. “I am, too.”

  Cam extended her arms. “Give me a hug, Lurch. I need to get back to the table.” Last summer she’d affectionately called him that nickname because of his size, and he’d always loved it.

  He laughed but leaned over to embrace her gently and briefly. “Go then. Bon appétit.”

  * * *

  Their plates sat empty except for a stray bite of spinach on Cam’s and a coin of carrot on Deb’s. Cam’s father pushed back his chair a little.

  “That was splendid, honey. The chicken was perfect.” He patted his stomach.

  “Mmm. I haven’t eaten so much in a long time.” Deb smiled.

  Deb had eased back into cordiality during the course of the meal. Her martini followed by a glass of red wine might have had something to do with it. Cam was feeling no pain, either, having finished two and a half glasses of wine. She’d savored every bite of the nutty sweetness of the scallops, the savory spinach, and a scrumptious Hasselback potato, its thin crisp slices full of melted butter.

  The waitress cleared the table. “Coffee and dessert for you tonight?” she asked.

  Cam glanced at her parents. “Decaf espresso for me. And we might as well see a dessert menu. Right?”

  “Absolutely,” William said.

  Deb and William put in their coffee orders, and the waitress left after handing them a couple of small menus.

  “What’s good for dessert here?” Deb asked.

  “Everything,” Cam said. “Let’s see what they have.”

  “I like the sound of that chocolate-raspberry cake,” Deb said, pointing to the menu.

  “Sounds good to me,” William said. “Cammie, tomorrow we’re going to get out of your hair and take ourselves on a junket, if you don’t mind. We thought we’d drive up the coast, check out Portsmouth, take in some of the Maine beaches.”

  “That’s fine, of course.”

  “Could you leave the farm for a day and come with us?” Deb asked.

  Whoa. That was a change of direction. “Thanks, Mom. I’d love to, but I’m afraid I just have too much work to do at this time of year to take a whole day off. But maybe Sunday afternoon we can do something fun together.” Cam sipped the last of her wine and set the glass down.

  William excused himself to go to the men’s room. Cam casually glanced at a couple across the room. She’d seen the woman earlier in her line of sight, but the man had been hidden behind her dad. Cam’s eyes widened. She’d seen this guy before. Was he who she thought he was? She narrowed her gaze. Yes. It was the slight, dark-haired man she’d seen in the parking lot. Right before she found Nicole dead.

  She leaned over toward Deb. “Mom, don’t make it obvious, but when you get a chance, can you look at the man sitting behind you?” She kept her voice low. “He’s sort of slender, not too tall.”

  Deb frowned but made a pretense of examining the pictures on the walls. “I love the close-ups of the produce, don’t you?” She used a normal voice, twisting in her chair to follow the wall around behind her. She faced Cam again and narrowed her eyes. “I saw him near the greenhouse,” she whispered.

  William returned. “Who was?” he asked with a quizzical smi
le. “And why are you whispering?”

  Before William sat, Cam thought she saw the man glance up. “Dad.” Cam made a quiet-down gesture, patting the air with a flat hand. “We’ll tell you later.”

  The waitress arrived with their coffees. Cam caught something in her peripheral vision, and looked up to see Jake right behind the waitress. He held three plates of desserts. He smiled, but Cam thought it looked like a nervous version of his normal high-power beam.

  “Courtesy of the chef,” he said with a little bow. “Which would be me.”

  Cam introduced everyone.

  Her father stood and shook Jake’s hand. “Very glad to make your acquaintance,” William said. “Cameron has told us what a marvelous chef you are.”

  Jake said, “Oh, boy,” but his smile grew a little broader. “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

  “I must say, our meal was excellent,” William went on as he sat again. “Prime quality. You should open a branch of your restaurant in New York City.”

  “I agree,” Deb said. “You could compete with the best of them.”

  “Thank you both. I’m glad you enjoyed the meal.” He set down the desserts in the middle of the table. “I brought you the earthquake cake, with three kinds of organic chocolate, filled with raspberry ganache. The apple crisp with local fruit is topped with a vanilla bean ice cream. And Ostkaka, or Swedish cheesecake, topped with strawberries and crème fraîche. My specialty.”

  “My goodness,” Deb said. “We’ll have to roll home.”

  “Enjoy. I need to be getting back into the kitchen now.” He gave another little bow and turned to go.

  Cam stood. “Can I ask you one thing, Jake?”

  His eyebrows pulled together in the middle. “Sure.”

  She followed him back toward the hall. She lowered her voice again. “Behind our table is a slight, dark-haired man at a table with a woman. Would you have any idea who he is?” She glanced back. The man’s hand covered the woman’s in what looked like an affectionate gesture.

  Jake shifted his eyes and looked at Cam again. “I do. His name is Carlos Griffith. He lives here in town. He’s been a regular in the dining room since I opened, he and his wife. I was glad to see they were still coming when I returned.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “It’s just, um, he looks like somebody else I know.” She wasn’t going to go into the whole story now, and Jake didn’t seem to have heard about her role in the death. “Thanks for the desserts.”

  Jake leaned down and planted a light kiss on Cam’s cheek. “Don’t be a stranger now.”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 10

  Cam stared bleary-eyed at the seed shelf in the barn at eight the next morning and sniffled. Her cold was still almost at bay, maybe because she’d been chugging zinc and another herbal cold remedy every time she thought of it. But farmers didn’t have the luxury of sleeping late in May or any of the growing months, for that matter, and she’d already been on the job for a couple of hours. She needed to direct seed the bush beans, start another couple of flats of lettuce, and weed the turnips. For starters.

  She drained her coffee and set the mug on the table behind her. After she poured the bean seeds from the packet into a small plastic bucket, she added a little water and the black powdery inoculant that would boost the nitrogen-fixing capability of the beans. Grabbing a hoe, she trudged to the rows she’d already tilled and raked smooth. She peered at the sky, which glowered a gunmetal gray. Not as nice a day for her parents’ junket as yesterday, especially as it was finally seasonably cool. It would be much better running weather for the track meet this afternoon, though. Cam had run cross-country and long track events in high school, just like Ellie did now. Spectators might be shivering, but for the athletes today’s weather would provide a comfortable temperature in which to compete.

  As she hoed open a shallow furrow, she thought about seeing Jake again. She’d half expected to feel a spark of attraction, because it had been so strong between them last summer and fall. She hadn’t, though. His behavior from before had killed it. She’d never felt physically threatened by him, thank goodness, but she’d cut off their relationship when his irrational jealousy had morphed into controlling behavior. He had so many positive traits, though, so much that was likable. Good for him for getting help with his dark side. She hoped they could still work together on a business level, and be friends, too.

  Jake had identified the man from the parking lot as Carlos Griffith. Had Griffith known Nicole, been in the greenhouse talking with her? Or was he in the area to do business with the neighboring insurance company? She could Google him when she took a break later. She grimaced. She should report in to Ivan again about that name. She hated to seem like she was bugging him, but he would want to follow up on anybody seen in the vicinity. When she reached the end of the row, she set the hoe down and called him.

  “Pappas here,” Pete’s voice said.

  “Pete?” Cam squawked. “Did I dial your number instead of Ivan’s?” Hearing his voice sent her heart into overdrive.

  “Good morning,” Pete said. “Hang on a sec, would you?”

  Cam waited, smoothing down the end of the row with the toe of her boot. She missed the guy, plain and simple.

  “Hey, hon.” Pete’s voice was low and husky. “Ivan’s otherwise occupied, but he left his phone on the desk. I saw your ID so I picked up. Don’t worry, I’m outside alone. But I can’t talk long.”

  “I miss you.”

  He laughed. “Same here, sugar, same here. But you didn’t call Ivan to tell him you missed me.”

  “Of course not. Are you following the investigation?”

  “I’m working on it. Just not the parts involving you or your mother.”

  “I told Ivan I’d seen a slight, dark-haired man near the greenhouse that afternoon. Before I found Nicole.” At a movement in the sky, she glanced up to see a turkey vulture soaring overhead, tipping the wings it held in a dihedral angle.

  “Yes. I read the report.”

  “Last night I saw him in The Market restaurant in Newburyport.”

  “Jake Ericsson’s place,” Pete said.

  “Right. Jake’s back from Sweden, as it turns out. He came out to meet my parents and—”

  “You’ve been in touch with him?”

  Cam took the phone away from her ear for a second and stared at it. “Are you jealous?”

  He made a tsk-ing sound. “No, Cam, I’m not jealous. Believe it or not, I am secure about your affection.”

  She laughed. “Good, because you should be.”

  “It was a simple question. For which I’m still expecting an answer.”

  “No, I haven’t been in touch with him. I took my parents out for a nice meal last night, and I was surprised to see that Jake is back. Anyway, he said the guy I saw is named Carlos Griffith. He and his wife live in Newburyport and are regulars at the restaurant.”

  “Very interesting. Thanks for passing that along. I’ll add it to the board.”

  “The board?”

  “The wall in the case room where we post all kinds of things about the investigation. Pictures, names, maps, anything we think will help.”

  “Wow. Just like on TV.”

  “Yeah, sort of.” Pete laughed his deep laugh, the one that always got Cam’s body senses on alert in the most stimulating of ways.

  “Hey, gotta run,” Pete went on. “You stay out of trouble, okay?”

  “Will do. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Even during times like this, when she and Pete had a forced separation, she still felt the solid warmth of his love. It was a new experience for her, and one she found surprisingly comforting. She’d been self-sufficient for so long she hadn’t expected a relationship to be so fulfilling, so satisfying.

  Cam disconnected and walked slowly, smiling, down the row, dropping beans into the furrow about two inches apart. It was approxi
mate. If two went in at the same time, she didn’t bother to reach down and separate them. Beans liked company. Herself, she was glad for a morning alone with her crops and the out of doors, gray sky or not. No difficult people, no stubborn mysteries.

  * * *

  Cam knocked on the door of Bobby’s home, a small building that sat behind a big antique house. The wide Merrimack River sparkled beyond Bobby’s place in the early afternoon sunshine. She’d been inside once before. He’d renovated an old carriage house into a spacious one-room apartment, with handcrafted wooden paneling, a bank of windows facing the river, and simple colorful decor touches.

  His truck wasn’t parked in front, however, so her chances of finding him were slim. She’d decided to stop by on her way to Ellie’s track meet, hoping to learn more about Nicole and maybe about her elusive ex-husband.

  When Bobby didn’t come to the door, Cam perched on a chair under an old oak in the yard and called him instead.

  After he connected and they greeted each other, he said, “What’s up?”

  “I stopped by your house but you’re not here.”

  “Sorry, Cam. I’m still working in Amesbury. Big job, lots of pressure to finish it on schedule.”

  “I want to learn more about Nicole and Rudin. This murder is bothering me big-time.” Cam heard the high-pitched whine of a power saw in the background of the call.

  “Huh. Funny you should ask. Hang on a minute.” When Bobby came back on the line, the noise behind him was gone. “Yeah, so Rudin called me this morning. He stopped by the job site a little while ago.”

  Interesting. “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to talk about Nickie with somebody who also knew her. Who also loved her, is what he said.”

  “So he cared about her,” Cam said.

  “He sure seemed to. He said he had pleaded with her not to divorce him, that he wanted to fix what they’d had, go to counseling together, the works. He really seemed broken up about losing her, both in the marriage and now to death.”

  “That sounds like a different sort of man than the one you described when you first talked to me about him. You’d said, what, that he was a controlling type?”