“But he’s a pig,” said Becca.
“Yes, but he eats like a horse. Miss Fern, is that a pitch pipe I see you holding?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, we were singing on the bus.”
“Could you and your class possibly give Horse and his orchestra the key of G?” Charlotte prayed that Miss Fern would comply, because at least for the moment, the moms had stopped corralling their kids.
“Ready children? Animals?” Miss Fern found the correct spot on the tuning wheel, took a deep breath into her chest and ample bosom, and belted out a perfect G. The children mimicked her.
This is the moment of truth. Please, Horse, give them a squeal, a grunt, anything … to get their minds off murder.
A moment later Horse joined in. The kids laughed, but their jaws soon dropped when the goats began their chorus and then the geese alit, strutting and singing some impressive tenor honks.
When Charlotte saw a couple moms videotaping the concert, she took a breath. Horse had saved the farm.
At least for now.
“Who wants to decorate cupcakes and eat fresh strawberries?” Beau said, appearing in the doorway in a cooking apron.
* * *
Two hours later the kids loaded back onto the bus and into cars, carrying bags of cupcakes with fruit-themed icing and a giant strawberry made out of red napkins and twine. The once worried parents each gave Horse a wave and went back to their cars, having had a wonderful afternoon. Horse had indeed delivered, and the little ones squealed with delight when they petted the goats and watched a mother goose lead her goslings on a recon mission around the farmhouse.
“Joe, how difficult would it be to fill that artificial lake up again?” Charlotte asked.
He walked up next to her on the porch and leaned against a support post.
“Your uncle loved looking out at the water too. He would sit for hours on a porch swing, waiting for the sun to set over the lake. It got partially drained during the fire of 2008, by the Superscooper helicopters. The water from this farm was instrumental in saving some nearby structures and crops.”
“That makes me feel good.” Charlotte looked back toward the large, cracked concrete basin. In places, grass and weeds had pushed through the bottom and taken up residence.
“It would seem to me that this could once again be a valuable resource in times of emergency,” Diane said, joining the conversation. “Perhaps the county has some funding they could spare to restore it in exchange for access to the water when needed. This is much closer than the ocean for smaller aircraft.”
“That’s true, Diane. I know some people to approach. Maybe you could come with me. You make such a persuasive argument.” Joe smiled at her.
“You bet!”
“I can talk to Chief Goodacre too. I have no doubt that we will be spending more time together until this murder is solved.” Charlotte gave the now moribund lake one more look, and a memory flashed in her mind of jumping from the dock with kids from the neighboring farms.
While Diane and Joe wandered into the house to see about dinner, Charlotte let her thoughts continue to replay from that summer she’d spent on the farm. The watering hole had been legend around the canyon, and Tobias gave anyone who knew how to swim a day pass. More images popped in and out of her memory, like the water safety test Tobias put every new swimmer through; the canvas chairs he set out for the parents on the dock; and a fleeting sight of her uncle and a woman holding hands and watching Charlotte get in a last quick swim as the sun was setting. For the life of her she couldn’t remember who that woman had been. Although he had never married, Charlotte had heard through family rumors that he was seldom lacking for female companionship. At nine years old, she hadn’t thought holding hands meant much; she’d had to do it with a classmate whenever her class went off campus. But thinking back now, that younger woman with the dark hair was clearly someone who’d made Tobias happy.
“Earth to Charlotte, you look like you just drifted off to Marrakesh for a private, sunrise, hot-air balloon ride over the desert.”
She hadn’t seen Beau approach, and he’d startled her.
“Did you have fun with the kids? They looked like they were having a blast,” she said to him.
“I did, but I’m afraid that we humans played second fiddle to Horse and his merry menagerie. Good job my little pink friend!” Beau bent down to Horse’s level, and they gave each other an air Eskimo kiss.
Only Beau would train him to do that.
“Beau, do you think that I could actually make a go of this? I’m remembering more and more about the time I spent here as a kid, and it all seemed so ideal. Everyone was happy. We were outdoors from dawn until dusk, and every fruit and vegetable and living creature was magic to me.”
“Of course you can. And not just make a go of running the family farm, dear Char—you could make it spectacular. You just need to return to the old “take no prisoners” girl I grew up with and stop second-guessing yourself. You’ve got this in your blood, sweetie. You may like to trip the light fantastic in heels and silk gowns, but deep down you’re really a gingham-and-sneakers kind of girl.”
“Sweet Beau.” She gave him a generous hug. They both froze in place for a moment with their noses in the air. Charlotte thought she detected the aroma of a roast chicken. “Does it smell to you like a delicious dinner is ready?” she asked Beau.
“Why yes, it does, and tonight we’ll be able to see what we’re eating. Allow me to escort you, my dear.”
Beau offered his arm, and they skipped into the house.
* * *
Tonight it was just the three of them at dinner, and that was fine. They could talk in their own childhood code, finish each other’s sentences, and howl, laughing about the silliest things. Charlotte was almost able to erase the day’s horrible scene from her mind. She told them the story of Mrs. Robinson, the ladybug, and all three marveled at her tenacity and loyalty.
“I’ve made a couple of peach pies for you. We’ll have some tonight, and then you may want to share the rest with Joe and Alice. Or bring Farmer Brown a warm slice in the middle of the night,” Diane teased.
“You are so bad—stop it. Besides you’re the one who thinks that he’s cute.”
“And you, Miss Charlotte, never said what you think.”
“He’s cute, trust me,” Beau said, adding his two cents.
“He’s my employee, and I plan to keep it professional.” Charlotte took the plates into the kitchen, thereby ending the discussion.
When she returned with the pie, plates, and ice cream, she sat and held her friends’ hands. “I wish you could stay longer. I feel like we’ve only just gotten back together, and I’ve been too distracted to really be with you guys. Tomorrow night at this time, I’ll be dealing with all these problems on my own.”
“You’ll be fine, and we’re only a phone call or a drive away, luv. Now dig into this pie. I’m getting spoiled working with ingredients directly from the tree, ground, and stalk!” Diane laughed.
Charlotte heard the sounds of metal scraping across tile and watched a chair that had been against the back of the patio glide toward their table. It had gotten dark while they were eating, but no one had bothered to turn on some lights or get the candles out again. Beau and Diane were digging into their desserts and had closed their eyes to concentrate on letting the flavors melt in their mouths.
That explains a lot. This place is haunted.
Charlotte’s eyes were open to the limits of their sockets when the chair came to a stop at the table.
Beau noticed Charlotte first. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Just then Horse sprang from his back hooves and landed on the seat in one smooth movement.
Charlotte screamed, and Diane and Beau immediately joined in. Thinking this was a game Horse added his squeal to the party.
* * *
“I really believe that he was just trying to show you that you won’t be alone, Charlotte—that he’ll be by your side
.”
“You really think so, Diane? I’ve been wondering if I’m going crazy thinking that Horse understands my every word.”
They were in the kitchen, about to finish up for the night.
“Pigs are very intelligent—way up there in the animal kingdom. Just behind chimps, elephants, and dolphins.”
“And where’d you get that tidbit? Are you still watching Saturday morning nature shows like we used to?”
“Hah! I wish that I had time—you remember how much I love them. But Saturday mornings I’m in the restaurant early, prepping for a hopefully busy night.”
“Too bad. So did you just make that up, Diane?”
“Nope. Farmer Brown told me.”
“Oh, and just when did you and the produce proprietor have this discussion?” Charlotte was teasing her but also curious about their encounter without her.
“I ran into him when I was picking the peaches. Are you jealous?”
Charlotte laughed.
“You are!”
“She is what?” Beau appeared in the kitchen doorway, back in his bathrobe, but Charlotte was relieved to see pajamas poking out beneath it.
“I think that our sis-once-removed has got a little thing for Farmer Brown!”
“Stop it—I thought that we’d settled this.” Charlotte’s Irish anger was surfacing.
“Okay, good talk. Time for me to go to bed.” Beau had raised his arms in a surrender pose and was backing out of the room. He’d been on the receiving end of Charlotte’s wrath before, when they were growing up, when he’d pulled a few too many shenanigans.
“Me too.” Diane kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “You know that I was just teasing. You are right to take your job here seriously, and you’re going to make a great farm owner.”
“If I stay … thanks, Diane.”
“You turning in too?”
“Shortly. I want to run this pie down to Joe and Alice, so they can enjoy it tonight or for breakfast tomorrow. You remember how I shouted at Alice when we first met? I was afraid that she was going to hurt Mrs. Robinson, and I reacted irrationally. I still feel some discomfort with her when I’m around, and I really want to settle that.”
Charlotte kept to herself the idea of observing Alice in her own home, where she was likely to let her guard down if she was hiding anything she knew about the murder.
“Charlotte, it’s dark out, and you barely know the roads down there.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going alone.”
“Oh, I’ll get my jacket,” Diane said.
“Not you, silly—I’ll have my trusty pig with me for protection.”
“Well, that’s a horse of a different color.” Diane cracked herself up as she left the kitchen.
* * *
The road was lit, albeit dimly as the ground lights were stretched far apart. Charlotte was carrying a pen flashlight with her that she’d found in a utility drawer in the kitchen. She could see her destination from the lamps lit in the Wong house. Plus, Horse appeared to know exactly where they were going.
Charlotte fought to block her mind from thinking about a night similar to this when someone else had been moving around the farm in the dark. Had he been trespassing? Maybe he was the one breaking off the sprinkler valves. That would mean that someone had caught him, and the obvious choice would be Farmer Brown or Joe. The farmer was a surly man, maybe carrying a chip on his shoulder, but still, murder was awfully extreme for what amounted to little more than a misdemeanor. Plus, from the brief look Charlotte had gotten of the body, Farmer Brown outweighed him by perhaps fifty pounds. He could have just knocked him out and called the police. Charlotte decided to reserve her judgment about Joe until after her visit to their home.
Because of the steep incline of the hill, the road to the bottom level ran in long “S” curves, which meant that Charlotte would be traversing it parallel to the fields on the second level. A sudden chill had picked up in the air, and Charlotte came on a narrow path that dissected directly through the strawberry fields. Taking this would cut her walk time in half, if not more. She turned her penlight along the path to ensure that it was clear as far as she could see.
“Horse, should we go this way?”
He walked a short way along the dirt with his nose pointed down to the ground. At first Charlotte thought that he was just rooting for food, but he suddenly stopped, looked back at her, and wagged his tail.
“Okay then, onward.”
The fields at night were an entirely different experience. What was a lush, bountiful, happy place during the day had turned eerie and predatory in the dark. Charlotte kept hearing odd noises that made her stop mid-step and brace for a surprise attack from behind one of the thick raised rows of red berries and plentiful, camouflaging leaves.
This might not be one of my better ideas …
She convinced herself to put her trust in Horse and decided that if he were happily marching along, then she would do the same.
All of a sudden Horse quickened his pace, and Charlotte learned that he could really move when he set his mind to it. She broke into a run to keep up. “Horse, stop!”
He may have heard her, but he didn’t obey. His grunts got louder and fiercer. Charlotte needed to catch and restrain him because she certainly didn’t want to be left alone in this field. Up ahead she heard footsteps that were much heavier than the little pig’s hooves, but she couldn’t see who was making them. She’d put the penlight in her mouth when she’d started running, so she could use both hands to keep the pie upright. The shaky, small beam of light was no help. She tried to hold the pie tin steady in her hands as she picked up speed, trying to keep up with Horse. For all those reasons, she couldn’t possibly have seen the plastic storage container that had been left in the middle of the path. Her foot and shin hit the box and although it skidded forward Charlotte thought that she might step on the pig, so she dove down shoulder first into the dirt spitting the penlight out just in time before it was driven down her throat. The pie went flying and landed with a thud about six feet away. When she slowly picked her head up, she saw that the container had come to a stop just out of reach. Instinctively, she crawled toward it but couldn’t see inside in the pitch black. Charlotte felt around for the light, following a dim beam that was pointed in the opposite direction. It was at that moment that she heard the distinct cocking of a shotgun.
“Don’t move,” boomed a deep voice in the distance, and Charlotte flattened herself against the ground. Horse had raced back to her and, thinking that this might be a game, had started foraging around her head. That was when she heard a bullet loading into a second gun.
“Go. Run, Horse. Save yourself,” Charlotte whispered to him.
Instead, he let out the same oinks that he had used to greet the geese that morning.
Charlotte started saying her prayers, and when a wide light flooded her body, she figured that it was probably the last thing that she’d see.
Footsteps approached from two directions.
“It’s Charlotte,” she heard a woman’s voice utter.
“What the hell?” a man said.
Someone bent down low to her face, and she screwed up her courage and squinted open her eyes.
“Farmer Brown?”
“Damn it, woman, would you please call me Samuel like everybody else does?”
“Is she hurt?” Charlotte thought the woman’s voice sounded familiar, but for now she couldn’t place it.
“Can’t tell yet. Can you sit up, Miss Charlotte?”
“I think so.”
Samuel helped her roll over and bend at the waist.
“I’m going for a cart,” the woman said.
“What did I trip over?” Charlotte asked.
“What were you doing out here by yourself at night?” Samuel ignored her question.
“I was bringing a peach pie down to Joe and Alice. I thought they would enjoy it fresh out of the oven.”
Samuel let out a sigh and slowly shook his
head.
“I thought that I made it clear that we’ve had some problems with a couple of people trespassing and trying to sabotage our crops. Not to mention the dead body we found not far from here. What were you thinking? I could have shot you. Luckily, I heard the pig and that warned me off firing. Do I have to remind you that there is a murderer on the loose?”
Charlotte felt her cheeks flush bright red at the scolding.
“I’m sorry. I realize now that it was foolish, but I am trying, in the middle of all this upheaval, to establish a sense of order and cooperation on the farm. I was headed to see Joe and Alice to take them a freshly baked pie. This has all come on so suddenly for them. I recognize that the farm is their home, and I wanted to reassure them that everything is going to be fine.”
“Is it?” Samuel asked, surprising her. Seeing her expression, he continued. “Around here we rarely have a murder, and if we do, it is more likely to be due to a couple of drunk farmers fighting over a girl or land or both.”
“Well, in Chicago we have them all the time, and we learn how to take care of ourselves.” Charlotte’s tone was defiant. She’d already apologized and had had just about enough of the farmer’s chastising.
“May I remind you that this is not Chicago or any other big asphalt jungle? This is Little Acorn, and as long as there is a killer out there, I’ll be patrolling at night with a loaded gun. Next time I might not hear the pig and might go ahead and fire.”
Samuel reminded her about Horse, and she quickly looked around for him. She worried that all the shouting had scared him into hiding. She located his pink body ducked into the plastic bin.
“Horse!”
That drew Samuel’s attention to what had tripped her up, and he dragged the bin over to where Charlotte was sitting.
“Aphids—I knew it,” he said after shining the light into the bin. Samuel searched for the lid and got up to retrieve it.
Charlotte peered in when Samuel returned with the light.
“That’s what those tiny green things are called? What’s so important about them?”
Dead on the Vine Page 6
