Dead on the Vine

by Elle Brooke White

  “What?”

  “Before I went to see where the noise was coming from last night, I was going through the produce sales ledgers that Samuel had given me. Serge has been cheating us for months by skimming off the top. Selling the same quantity but saying that the market has dropped. Demand is strong!”

  “Did I hear Samuel say something about Serge missing his appointment this morning?”

  “Yes, you did, and he doesn’t seem to be the type to turn down money.” Charlotte started to gather up the platters to hand-wash. “I want to deliver my invoice for the money he skimmed from the farm produce in person.”

  Beau raised his eyebrows in a look of concern.

  “And are you expecting him to open his checkbook and pay you on the spot?” Beau asked as Charlotte grabbed her car keys off the kitchen counter.

  “Something like that.”

  Beau made a sign of the cross, checked his reflection in the stainless steel door of the refrigerator, and followed Charlotte outside.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte had found one of Serge’s invoices that was printed with an office address in town, and that’s where they were headed. After that big brunch and all the excitement, her adrenalin was suddenly plummeting, and it was hard to get her mind off curling up in bed with a certain porcine companion to snuggle with.

  “What’s your plan once we set eyes on slimy Serge?” Beau asked her.

  “I printed out an invoice for him for the one year’s skimming alone. I’ll need time to see how far back his stealing goes to create another bill, but I want him to know that we are watching his every move. I also need to talk to Samuel and Joe about other methods of distribution. I really don’t want Serge or Annabel to set foot on my farm again.”

  “That’s poking the bear, my fiery redhead! You realize that he could drag his feet on paying—or deny everything. It’ll come down to believing him or Samuel.” Beau shook his head at that thought.

  “I’m willing to bet that Serge isn’t just cheating us. When we get to his office, your job is to look for and memorize the names of his other customers or farms. A handful should do to give Chief Goodacre enough evidence to make an arrest.

  “Got it, Captain, my Captain.” Beau saluted her.

  When they reached the center of Little Acorn, Charlotte and Beau saw that the street lamps and businesses were all being festooned with red, white, and blue in anticipation of Independence Day. There were pull down flags, pennants, bunting and pleated fans, and stars-and-stripes windsocks fluttering from atop the town hall.

  “I didn’t think that it was possible for Little Acorn to get any quainter,” Beau said after they’d parked and gotten out of the car.

  “I love it!” Charlotte walked with purpose toward the small storefront that was their destination.

  Just as she was about to open the door, her cell phone rang, and she looked at the caller ID.

  “It’s Theresa—I mean the chief,” she told Beau. They shuffle-stepped to one side of the storefront, and Charlotte took the call.

  “Hello, Chief—I’m here with Beau. We’re just about to meet with my distributor and read him the riot act. It appears that he has been skimming off the top of our produce sales.” She was holding the phone up to her ear and had motioned Beau to cock his head next to hers to listen in. Since learning over and over that this town was such a rumor mill, she didn’t want to broadcast the conversation over audio speaker.

  “Serge? He seems like such an honest man … I’d pay to see that, but unfortunately, I’m drowning in paperwork today. Hopefully you can settle this without the police having to get involved.”

  “But then I won’t get to see you this trip,” Beau said into Charlotte’s phone.

  “Sweet Beau, we shall meet up again soon. Charlotte, we’re making some progress here, and I would like to see any correspondence that you received about the inheritance before you arrived here. The bank won’t release anything to me without a warrant, and I’m trying to save some time.”

  “Sure, I even have digital files that I could send you. I don’t see what would be confidential in those.” Charlotte obliged, once again worried about her suspect status.

  “I’m going to send you a different email address that we use for more secure communication. You should be safe,” the chief replied.

  “Okay, great. Can you give me any updates on the rest of the evidence that you’re following? Charlotte hoped that she’d sounded curious rather than imposing.

  “Did the coroner give any clues as to what might have been used?” Charlotte shook her head with frustration.

  “Only that it was something smooth but powerful. The DNA results from all of you should be back in a couple of days.

  “I’ve located a lab that can do the DNA paternity testing, but they warn that with your uncle’s hair sample, even with the root, they can only promise at best sixty-percent accuracy. I’ll keep you posted. Ta-ta.”

  Chief Goodacre hung up before Charlotte could say another word.

  * * *

  The small office for Andersen Distribution consisted of a reception and waiting area and a glass-enclosed space in the back that contained a desk, workstation, and a wall of old metal file cabinets. Photos lined virtually every space of wall, depicting Serge posing with local dignitaries and usually holding a cocktail or an award. Or both. Like in an art museum, there was a small description of the event posted under each photo. To Charlotte this all looked like a wall of shameless hubris. About a third of the photos included Annabel, usually at formal attire events, and Charlotte noted that she never wore the same gown twice. Or the same jewelry. Even in a photo of them accepting a trophy from a bowling league, her lavish makeup had been perfectly applied.

  “May I help you?” asked the woman behind the reception desk.

  “Yes, kind lady, we’re here to pay a visit to Mr. Andersen. And may I say that that is a beautiful shade of red you are wearing. It brings out your captivating eyes.” Beau flashed his one-hundred-watt smile at her. Charlotte gave him a gentle kick on the foot. Not everyone knew how to deal with Beau putting on the charm.

  “Hi, miss, I’m a customer of Mr. Andersen’s. Is he out of the office?” Charlotte asked, seeing that the back room was empty.

  “It’s Miss Reston, and I haven’t seen or heard from him today.” She shrugged as if to say, “Either way is fine with me.”

  “Change of plans since he’s not here,” Charlotte whispered to Beau after turning her back to the receptionist and pretending to look at the photos on the wall. “Follow my lead.”

  “Oh, what a shame, and you’ve come all this way to reconnect with your old friend,” Charlotte said to Beau, and looked into his eyes to make sure that he had caught onto the ruse.

  “Do you have any idea when he might return? I’m only in town for a few hours, you see,” Beau explained to Miss Reston.

  “Nope, he does this a lot.”

  “I see. My friend brought something to show Mr. Andersen, a trip down memory lane to the good old days. Would you mind if he left it on his desk with a little note?” Charlotte could see that Miss Reston wanted to get back to her social media account. She’d not closed it fast enough to hide her computer screen when they’d walked in.

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged again and this time didn’t make any effort to hide what she was interacting with on the computer.

  Good for us.

  “We’d better switch roles. You pretend to be writing a note to go with this invoice, and I’ll snoop around for account names,” Charlotte whispered to Beau as she handed him the envelope with the bill.

  Beau sat down at Serge’s desk and looked for notepaper and a pen. Charlotte double-checked that Miss Reston was busy posting, and opened one of the file drawers.

  “Oh good, you found something to takes notes with—write down these names,” Charlotte again whispered to Beau as she opened and closed file drawers in order to get a good cross section. “Rancho Hernandez, Go
leta Valley Berry Farm, Mountainview Acres, Goodland Produce, Whitney Dairy, Avondale Avocados, Pico Goat’s Milk and Cheese.”

  Charlotte was interrupted by the sound of a car door closing in the alley behind Serge’s office. She then noticed that there was another door that led out there.

  “Beau, I think Serge is here. Quick—we’ve got to go! Leave that invoice on his desk!” This time her whisper was louder and more urgent.

  “You sure?” Beau asked, rising from the desk chair.

  Charlotte nodded to him, saw that he’d taken the note, and then noticed a file folder with the word “Appraisal” on it. She was about to grab it when she heard the sound of keys jingling. They raced out of Serge’s office.

  “Goodbye, Miss Reston. Have a nice rest of the day. And he’s cute. I hope he’s your boyfriend,” Charlotte said, pointing to her computer screen.

  “Cheerio,” Beau said speed-walking behind Charlotte.

  They made it out just before they saw light come into the room from the back door.

  * * *

  “Whew! That was close,” Beau said once they were back on the road heading to the farm. “What’s the next plan, O mistress of all living and growing things?”

  “I’m weighing whether we should bring Samuel and Joe up to speed on Serge’s stealing and see if they know any of Serge’s other customers personally. That might help persuade them to join our little crusade.”

  “As long as you believe you can trust them to keep this to themselves,” Beau replied.

  “I suspect that the rumor grapevine contributor on the farm is Alice, whether she is doing it innocently or not. I’ll ask Joe to keep this knowledge to himself.”

  “Perfect—plus letting them in on Serge’s dirty laundry might broker extra trust. So that’s the plan?”

  “Well, it’s interesting that you called me a mistress of the farm, because I’ve been feeling that no one is really managing the evidence in this murder. Chief Goodacre may be doing things that we are not privy to, but I can’t rely on that. There’s too much at stake for the farm and myself.”

  “I feel safe with you at the helm. The more we know, the less chance that the chief can successfully point the finger at us without enough proof,” Beau said.

  Charlotte’s cell rang, and she saw that it was Diane calling.

  “Perfect timing. Beau and I were just having a confab about our progress on the case. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  “It is absolutely perfect timing. Hi, you two loves! I finally got a call back from that old waiter who works at the Olive and Whistle Inn. You remember—the place where Hera worked?”

  “Of course. Did he remember her?” Charlotte quickly asked, excited.

  “He sure did. She must have been quite a beauty. The guy’s eighty-two but still asked me to pass along his love to her if we ever met up.”

  “Aw, I love the idea that he may not be able to find his teeth in the morning, but he still knows exactly where his romantic heart is,” Beau declared. This was followed by a moment of silence from Charlotte and Diane, who were not quite sure how to take his statement.

  “Did he have any news about Hera?” Charlotte asked.

  “He sure did—he recalled her last name!”

  “Don’t keep us in suspense, Sis. What is it?” Beau was on the edge of his car seat.

  “Cordero!”

  “Bingo! Wow! Turn the car around, Charlotte—we should go tell the chief,” Beau yelled.

  “Not so fast, Detective Beau. Do you know how many people in this state have the last name Cordero? This is great intel, Diane, and now we need to qualify it,” Charlotte said into the phone.

  “I figured you would, Char, but I’ve got a perfect boil on my pasta water so will have to get back to it. We’ll talk soon—love you both!” Diane disconnected from the call.

  “Like I was saying, Beau, we need to be strategic about how we release any information on this case. We don’t want to tip off the real killer before we have enough proof to nail him. I think that it will only benefit us by exposing Serge’s stealing once we get corroboration from some other farm clients of his, as it will expose him as a crook. Even if they find that he’s not a murderer, his crime will put a major spotlight of scrutiny on him.

  But right now, it’s important to keep the news about Marcus possibly being Uncle Tobias and Hera’s son a secret. We still have so many dots to connect.” Charlotte had reached the farm, but they remained in the car.

  “You have my word. So how do we proceed?”

  “If the motive for killing Marcus was to stop him from claiming a share of the farm, then someone had to believe that he was Tobias’s son. And they would also have to able to prove that there was an earlier will stipulating that the farm be split three ways between my grandfather, Tobias, and this great-uncle Henry. Meaning that the Avery kids could launch a claim that they’re owed a share of the farm.”

  “So, in order to get to the bottom of this, we play dumb, ask everyone what they know about Marcus, and hope that the killer reveals him or herself,” Beau concluded.

  “Exactly, and we do so by making it seem that we are taking each suspect into our confidence. In the process, we should also find out what they’ve heard about an older will.”

  Charlotte looked out of the car window at the farmhouse. They’d reached a turning point by establishing a connection between the murder victim and the woman that Uncle Tobias loved. They were close to establishing a motive and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know whom that would lead to, but for the life of her she couldn’t pinpoint what had brought it on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The farm was buzzing with activity when they got out of the car. Joe and Samuel, assisted by Javier Espinoza and two of his men, were installing the new lake pump. Three others were working on mending the torn vinyl areas of the bottom sealer. Charlotte decided to head down there, and as she passed the cellar doors, she noticed that a new, larger padlock now secured them.

  “Char, I’m going to go in and make some calls for work,” Beau said, mounting the steps to the farmhouse’s patio. “I take it that my bedroom from last time is still available?”

  “Of course, and I think that you’ll find a pitcher with fresh yellow freesia waiting to welcome you.”

  “I may never leave.” Beau grinned back at her.

  “How are you feeling, Charlotte?” Samuel asked after walking up the path to greet her.

  “A little tired, but otherwise fine.” She noticed that Samuel had stripped down to a white tank shirt that showed off his slim waist. His worn jeans looked comfortable for this sort of work, and she found the tan leather gloves that protected his hands to be somehow sexy. Then there was the shock of straight dark hair that had flopped down and was almost covering one of his eyes.

  “We’ve almost got the pump connected, and then we can run a test to see if there’s still a spring underground,” Samuel said turning and walking toward the lake.

  He must have noticed me staring. Charlotte, behave yourself!

  She picked up her pace to meet up with the men.

  “Hello, everyone. Javier, again your help is so appreciated. How will I ever repay you and your men?”

  “Like I said before, Miss Charlotte, we farmers help each other. There will come a time when I will need to call on you for assistance, so don’t worry about it. The lake will make us all happy, as it has for generations.” Javier took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Charlotte cast her glance to the men working at the bottom of the deepest part of the lake dugout. “Do any of you know how long this artificial lake has existed?”

  Javier let out a breath. “All my lifetime, and I’m fifty-four. And I’ve heard my parents talking about parties and picnics that happened here. I’ve even seen a photo of them sitting in a canoe on the lake.”

  “How deep would you say the basin is at its lowest?” Charlotte asked.

  “Generally, weeds can’t grow in water over fift
een feet. This one’s about double that, so we don’t have to worry about plant takeover,” Javier explained.

  “Why do you ask Charlotte?” Joe was intrigued.

  “Just curious. I’d like to walk down to the edge and get a closer look, maybe walk in a little bit. Humor me—I’m reliving some childhood memories.

  Samuel and Joe looked at each other, and Charlotte took note of their uneasiness with her request.

  “You’re recovering from a bad hit on the head, Charlotte. The doc said you need to take it easy,” Samuel reminded her.

  “I have no intention of falling or even going very far down the slope, if that’s your concern, Samuel. And I see that ropes and ladders have been set out to help the workers go up and down, so you’re worrying over nothing.” With that, Charlotte started walking toward the lake’s crater, with Horse following at her heels.

  “See? This is as far as I’m going, so you can stop being Samuel the killjoy.”

  Charlotte saw that he’d taken her comment personally and quickly changed the subject. “I saw that there was a new lock on the outside cellar doors. Did you and Joe manage to chase out the raccoons?”

  “We didn’t find any, strange enough. Despite signs of fresh scat, neither of us can figure it out.”

  “Strange indeed.” And not a good sign, Charlotte thought. It seemed more and more likely that someone had orchestrated the cellar raid and caused the “accident.”

  “Since we’re out here by ourselves, there is something that I wanted to talk to you about,” Charlotte began.

  “Yes?” Samuel stopped walking.

  “Just before I went down to investigate the noises coming from the basement last night, I was going over some of the ledgers you gave me.”

  “I swear to you, Miss Charlotte, I may not be the best at the business side, but I made sure that each of my entries was correct. I always count twice!” Samuel was getting agitated.