Rhubarb Pie Before You Die

by Gin Jones

  Josefina at the library might know more than the internet did. Instead of going home, Mabel headed for the center of West Slocum.

  She waited until Josefina was finished helping the only other patron in the lobby before asking, “What do you know about Sam Trent?”

  “I know you should stay away from him,” Josefina said without even the faintest pause to think. “He’s a slick talker, good at selling himself and whatever he wants you to buy, but he never follows through on his promises. And if you question him about problems with the deal, he goes from your best friend to your worst enemy in a flash. He’s got quite a temper.”

  “What does he sell?”

  “Anything he can,” Josefina said. “He worked for his wife’s family’s home siding business while they were married, but more recently he’s been selling solar systems.”

  “Do you know why they got divorced? I heard Trent blamed Graham for not being able to reconcile with his wife.”

  “You heard that, did you?” Josefina’s eyebrows raised. “Who from?”

  “Rob Robinson.” Just in case the name wasn’t familiar, Mabel added, “Graham’s brother-in-law.”

  “I know who he is. You wouldn’t be investigating the murder, would you?”

  “I’m interested in buying some of Graham’s plants, and Robinson or his kids will likely inherit everything. I contacted him to make sure he knew I was interested in the rhubarb before anything happened to it.”

  Josefina smiled slyly. “And it’s a convenient excuse for questioning him about who might have wanted his brother-in-law dead.”

  “I really do want the plants, especially now that the sale of the farm has fallen through.” Mabel was fairly sure Josefina would have heard about both the proposed sale and its cancellation by now, and her lack of surprise at the news confirmed it. “Aunt Peggy had planned to add a field of rhubarb, so I’m going to plant it if I can. Having another crop already in place might make the farm more attractive to a buyer.”

  “Right,” Josefina said, clearly not convinced. “That was all you cared about when you saw Rob. So when you go talk to Sam Trent, what’s your excuse going to be then?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Mabel said, not bothering to pretend any longer. “I just can’t sit around and wait for the police to figure it out. My boss is pressuring me to come back to work. I can put him off for a few weeks, until after the garlic is planted, but not much longer than that or I probably won’t have a job to go back to.”

  “Just promise me you won’t talk to Trent alone.” Josefina brightened. “You could take that nice Charlie Durbin with you. He’s always been a good person. I’ve known him since he was a toddler and first started visiting the library. Not only would it be safer to have him watching your back, but he would have a more credible reason to talk to Sam. Charlie offers solar systems in some of his developments.”

  “I hate to bother Charlie. I’m sure he’s busy.”

  Josefina folded her pink-clad arms across her chest. “Either you agree to take Charlie with you or I’m not telling you where you can find Trent. And I’ll call Charlie to make sure you follow through, so don’t think you can flimflam me. I may be old, but I’m not a fool.”

  “I wouldn’t flimflam anyone,” Mabel said. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know how.”

  * * * *

  Charlie was surprisingly easy to convince to drop whatever he was doing and invite Sam Trent to his office to talk with Mabel. She hadn’t wanted to put Charlie in the awkward position of pretending he wanted to buy a solar system, so the cover story was that she was considering it for the farmhouse. Trent had taken the bait immediately, and agreed to a late-afternoon meeting.

  Mabel filled the time before then by responding to some voicemails inquiring about the farmhand job she’d posted. Three applicants were new, so she arranged to interview them later in the week. She was relieved that the two students who’d helped with the summer harvest had left messages saying they wanted to return for the fall planting. She returned their calls to let them know when the work would start. She already knew they were reliable, and their return would also make it easier for Rory to convince her teen-aged daughter to work too, since Dawn had had a bit of a crush on the boy.

  Mabel left a little early for the meeting and stopped by Graham’s greenhouse to do a quick watering. Fortunately, there was no sign of the neighbor or the rival breeder, so she was able to do the necessary work without interruption. Then she headed across town to where Charlie had a construction trailer on one of his work sites. He was building a fifty-five-plus community on what had once been a small apple and pear orchard. Some of the trees had been left along the edges of the property and in a little area set aside as a park near the entrance, but she couldn’t help wondering how the old farmer had felt about the leveling of the orchard.

  She knocked on the trailer’s door, and Charlie let her in while talking on his phone. The white, vinyl-clad exterior was unremarkable, except for the solar panels on the roof. The interior, however was more luxurious than she expected. The walls were paneled in real wood, and there were nice-looking light fixtures in the ceiling, and a pair of small, custom-upholstered chairs for visitors. A desk and filing cabinets were built into one end, with a storage closet and a tiny bathroom on the other end. Charlie had even installed Roman shades on the windows for privacy, although they were all raised at the moment to let in light. Plans for the subdivision were framed and hung on the walls.

  Charlie ended his call and gestured for Mabel to have a seat in one of the upholstered chairs while he pulled the rolling office chair over next to them. “Before you ask, I bought this land fair and square. The farmer died, and no one in his family wanted to take over the orchard. I didn’t lie to them about my plans for the land. And I kept as many of the trees as I could.”

  “I know you wouldn’t lie to the sellers,” Mabel said. “And I don’t need to save every farm. I just need to save Aunt Peggy’s.”

  A knock on the door was followed by the entry of a short man in a beige suit and a navy baseball cap with the distinctive B of the Boston Red Sox on the front. His tie was askew and the top button of his shirt undone.

  Mabel imagined Trent standing next to Graham, and being dwarfed by the lawyer. Could he really have stabbed the larger man?

  “I’m Sam Trent.” He tugged off the baseball cap to reveal a completely bald head, despite his not being over forty. “You must be Mabel Skinner.” He offered his hand for a shake, his grip firm to the point of discomfort. “Charlie and I go way back. He’s a big believer in solar energy and how it improves property values. You probably saw the panels on top of this trailer, and he’s installed them in several of his developments too.”

  Mabel noted that Trent hadn’t actually said he’d sold those systems, just implied it. Josefina had warned her that he was slick. She glanced at Charlie for confirmation. He shrugged and indicated that Trent should take the other upholstered chair.

  Trent threw himself into the chair, balancing a tablet on his lap. “So, what can I do for you?”

  He’d addressed Charlie, but Mabel answered him.

  “I’m having trouble selling my aunt’s farm, and I thought adding solar panels might make the property more attractive to potential buyers.”

  “You’re right about that.” Trent said, tapping his tablet to bring up a chart to illustrate his words. “Solar systems can add thirty percent to the property value.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mabel could see Charlie’s dubious expression, suggesting that Trent’s figure was more of the slickness that Josefina had warned her about. It didn’t matter whether it was true, though, since she wasn’t actually planning to buy anything from Trent. At least not without getting another quote or two and running the contract past Jeff Wright. The thought reminded her that she still hadn’t heard back from him and she’d forgotten to find out wh
y. Right after this meeting, she was going to do whatever was necessary to talk to someone who knew what was going on with him.

  But first she had to find out whether Trent might have killed Graham Winthrop.

  “If the panels add that much value, they must be expensive. I don’t have much in my budget. Maybe I should forget about the solar panels and just add a greenhouse,” Mabel said. “It’s simpler. And I could probably get a used one. Maybe even buy Graham Winthrop’s. His heirs might even appreciate having someone willing to cart it away for them.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend having anything to do with Graham Winthrop or his family,” Trent said. “If they’re as incompetent as he was, you could end up with a real mess on your hands.”

  “You could just be saying that so I’ll buy your solar system instead.”

  “No, really,” Trent said. “I hired Graham to represent me when my wife wanted a divorce. We were seeing a counselor, and we were making some real progress, getting close to a reconciliation, but then Graham went and told my wife’s attorney about an affair I’d had that she didn’t know about, and that was the end of our marriage. And my job, since I worked for her father.”

  “Why would a lawyer reveal confidential information like that?”

  “Because he was crazy,” Graham said. “He wasn’t bad when I hired him, and I got a bunch of references from people he’d worked for. But he was losing his mind by the time I met him, forgetting things like what was covered by lawyer-client privilege. I found out too late that he’d messed up other cases too, and he covered them up somehow. I reported him to the Board of Bar Overseers, and their investigators talked to him, but he must have been having a good day or something when he was interviewed, because they couldn’t tell that his brain didn’t work right. They said he was fine, and the only thing I could do after that was to hire another lawyer and sue him for malpractice if I wanted.”

  “Did you?”

  “No point,” Trent said. “My marriage was over by then and there was no fixing that. Besides, I was also unemployed, so I had no money, and good lawyers don’t work for free. Or even for cheap, like Graham did.”

  “Weren’t you tempted to get some revenge on him outside the court system?” Mabel asked. “I would have.”

  “I was too busy looking for a new job,” Trent said, but something in his eyes suggested that he had indeed gotten some revenge. The only thing Mabel couldn’t figure out was whether it was something petty like keying Graham’s truck or something serious like stabbing him to death.

  “Fortunately,” he went on, “solar is a booming business, so it didn’t take long to find a new job and get on with my life. My company installs the best, most efficient products at the best price. If we can go over the specs you’re interested in now, I can get you a quote in twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m not ready to talk details yet,” Mabel said. “I’m just trying to figure out what my options are for improving the property value, and then I’ll need to go over them with my broker before I even get to the point of figuring out the specifications.”

  “You mean Danny Avila?” Trent said, a note of irritation in his voice, although he tried to cover it up with a laugh. “He’s got a sweet gig, doesn’t he? No one hires him for his knowledge of real estate. They just do it out of respect for his daddy. Wish I’d had a parent like that. I’d be a millionaire by now. Like Charlie here.”

  “My parents weren’t particularly well-known or financially successful,” Charlie said. “The mayor’s job is harder than it seems. I wouldn’t want to be dealing with constant calls he must get from constituents.”

  A flash of anger crossed Trent’s face and he clenched his hand more tightly around the tablet. He obviously didn’t like being corrected. He looked away for a moment, probably to get his irritation under control. When he turned back, his face was all smiles again. He stood, saying, “You may be right. I love getting calls, but I guess not everyone does. And speaking of phone calls, I’d better get back to answering the messages I have from my customers. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Skinner.”

  Mabel couldn’t say that it had been all that pleasant for her. “Thank you for taking time to see me. I’ll let you know if I’m ever ready to get a quote on solar panels.” She owed him that much at least.

  Charlie stood and walked Trent the few feet to the door, deftly rejecting the salesman’s offers to submit quotes for solar panels for future developments.

  Mabel was glad she’d followed Josefina’s advice not to talk to Trent alone. If he’d come out the farmhouse and realized he’d been wasting his time, would he have become violent? After all, she suspected him of killing Graham, and despite Trent’s short height, she thought he was more than strong enough to do it. Mabel would be an even easier target for him.

  She wasn’t about to find out how easily he could be provoked. If she had any more questions for him about his role in Graham’s death, or anything else that might anger him, she was going to pass them along to the police to pursue.

  Charlie shut the door behind Trent and leaned against it. “I don’t like this.”

  “What?”

  “If Trent is right about Graham making mistakes with other clients, there could be dozens of people out there who were looking for revenge. And if one of them was the killer and thinks you’ve figured it out, you could be in danger.”

  “Don’t worry about me,’ Mabel said. “I’ve got an early warning system for visitors at the farm. Pixie won’t let anyone sneak up on me.”

  “What about when you’re not at the farm? Who’s going to warn you then?”

  “No one’s going to attack me at the library or the farmers’ market.”

  “Perhaps not, but you must go other places than that.”

  “Not if I can help it.” In the interest of complete disclosure, Mabel added, “Well, except for Graham’s greenhouse. I’ve volunteered to keep his seedlings alive until the estate takes over.”

  “Alone?”

  “I do everything alone.”

  “I’m hoping to change that,” he said. “Call me next time you’re heading there, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Consider it payment of a debt to your aunt, making sure you’re safe.”

  His words were casual, but something about his tone suggested his offer wasn’t all about her aunt.

  “Thanks.” Until she got some help from Emily in translating Charlie’s meaning, Mabel wasn’t ready to commit to anything, especially not a promise to keep a bodyguard close at hand. “I’ll call if I need help.”

  Chapter 13

  On the way back to the farmhouse, Mabel mulled over what Charlie had said. She was convinced that he hadn’t been telling her the whole truth when he’d explained his offer to protect her. But what could he want from her? She had come to completely accept that he wouldn’t try to steal her aunt’s land from her, but maybe he was playing a long game and thought she’d eventually give up on her plan to keep it as a working farm, and he’d be right there to swoop in and buy it.

  Or maybe he liked her.

  She hated the uncertainty. She was too old for the “does he or doesn’t he” of relationship drama. Besides, now wasn’t the time to start a personal relationship. She’d be leaving West Slocum before long, and until then, she had more important matters to deal with.

  Like checking on the pregnant cat and moving the boxes of charitable donations down the stairs and out to the barn for delivery or pick up. And making another stab at decoding Graham Winthrop’s journal.

  Back at the farmhouse, Mabel fed and watered Billie Jean, Pixie, and herself, finishing the leftovers from Maison Becker and the last of the cheesecake bars. Then, hoping there might be some leads to Graham’s murder in his journal, she tried some suggestions from her friends to break the code, but nothing worked. Graham must have been rea
lly paranoid about his information being stolen. She couldn’t imagine that much espionage going on in the world of rhubarb breeding, but then again, she’d worked with clients who were obsessed with a particular field of interest, one so tiny and specialized she’d never heard of it before and only about a thousand people in the entire world were even remotely interested in. And yet some of those clients had become convinced that the whole world was out to steal their secrets.

  Mabel hadn’t heard back yet from the one person she was sure would have the solution to breaking the journal’s code, so she nudged him with a text and then switched to reading her aunt’s journal in bed.

  She didn’t remember falling asleep over it, but a yowl from Pixie brought her out of dreams. They hadn’t been pleasant, and the memory lingered. She’d been trailing Angela Lansbury in her Jessica Fletcher role, snooping around Stinkin’ Stuff Farm with a magnifying glass in hand, her expressive eyes widening over assorted things that might or might not be a clue. Jessica been particularly fascinated by a mound of compost and a row of rhubarb plants that had somehow transported themselves, undisturbed, from Graham’s back yard to the garlic farm, right where Aunt Peggy had indicated she would have put them.

  Mabel was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but a repeat yowl—and the memory of Charlie’s warning that she stay safe—got her to jump out of bed and run over to the window to see who was in the driveway. She couldn’t see anyone, but the parking lot outside the barn wasn’t visible from there. It was probably just Rory, making an impromptu visit, but Charlie’s suggestion that Graham’s killer might target Mabel had her on edge. She needed to be sure the visitor wasn’t someone dangerous.

  She quickly splashed some water on her face and grabbed her phone before running outside to deal with the visitor. The late-afternoon air had turned chilly, more typical of early November than mid-October, making her glad she’d already been wearing a sweatshirt before she left the farmhouse.