“I’m sure. I found him in my tomato field with a pitchfork driven through his neck.”
Betty inhaled sharply before gathering her composure. “Floyd, take over for a couple of minutes, will you?” Betty shouted, and a moment later a rail-thin man in overalls appeared from the swinging kitchen door, with a white dishtowel over one shoulder.
“You really shouldn’t have come here, toots, but I have a feeling that if I don’t at least listen to your questions, then you’ll start asking the fine folks in this establishment, and I can’t have that.”
“I would never cause any trouble,” Charlotte explained.
Betty led her outside and around the back of the bar, where a couple of picnic tables served as a break room for the staff.
“We’re going to need a couple of minutes, José.”
The fry cook nodded, stamped out his cigarette on the dirt floor, and returned to the kitchen.
“Now what’s this all about?” Betty straddled the bench and leaned a meaty elbow on the table. Charlotte sat down next to her, hugging her capri-covered knees tightly. She took a deep breath to try to relax. She had to play this just right.
“My cousin—his name was Marcus.” This was a lie of course, but when practicing her story on the drive over, she’d figured that a grieving family member would seem the least threatening.
“I’m so sorry, honey, but I didn’t know anybody named Marcus.” Betty patted Charlotte’s upper arm.
“Maybe a photo would help?” Charlotte reached into her file folder and pulled out the photo that she had printed from Marcus’s social media page.
“He’s Marcus? I guess I never knew his name. He and his girlfriend—if you can call her that—would hole up in a dark corner and talk for hours. He was always bragging about coming into a bunch of money any day now.”
Charlotte felt her heart jump. She was finally onto something. “What do you mean about his girlfriend?” Charlotte tried to sound innocent.
“Well, for one she was twice his age, and for another, I happen to know that she’s married. Like it or not, that’s the kind of place this is. I’ve got one guy that comes in here at least once a week with his mistress, but his wife has never caught him. Even though she comes in every so often. So, like I told you in the bar, that’s all you’re going to get out of me.”
“Wow, it must be like walking a tightrope in there sometimes. You’re to be commended for keeping the peace, Betty.”
“Done it for thirty years now and through two husbands. At this point it’s second nature. Listen, I got to get back to work, and you’ve got to get going. I spend any more time with you, and the day drinkers will get restless and start needling me. You’re a real nice girl, Charlotte, and I am sorry that you lost your cousin, but I can’t help you.”
Betty hoisted herself up from the bench, with the help of the table to hold onto, and walked back inside.
Charlotte got back in her car and called the chief, who was now on speed dial.
“Hi, I’ve got big news that’s going to throw this case in a whole other direction. When can we meet?” Charlotte’s mind was racing.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Charlotte returned home, she made a beeline for her bedroom.
“Horse? I’m home.”
When she saw that he wasn’t there, Charlotte went outside to look for Horse. She wandered down to the farm shop and saw that Samuel had finished with the gosling pen and was adding some finishing touches. He’d procured a sample of each of the eight vegetables the geese were named after and was hanging them on hooks attached to the outside of the pen.
“Perfect. Just perfect, Samuel.”
He gave her his widest smile.
“Say, have you seen Horse?”
“Last I did, he was snuffling around the paddock and then the barn. Then he disappeared into the tomato field. Want me to go look for him?”
“No, but thank you. I sent him on a mission, so we must let him complete it.”
That got Samuel’s attention. He looked like he was about to ask Charlotte to explain, but then gave up and shrugged.
“Amazing what a beautiful stretch of water can do for the soul,” said a woman’s voice coming from behind them.
“Chief Goodacre, welcome,” Joe said, coming up from the lake.
“Hi, Chief. Can you believe the incredible work these guys have done?” Charlotte asked.
“Your uncle would be so proud of all of you. Charlotte, could we go up to the house and chat about a couple of things?”
“Sure, Chief. Oh, Samuel and Joe and Alice and I talked, and we want to throw a christening party for the lake on Thursday, just for us family. We’re doing a shrimp boil, Chief. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks, but I’ll wait until Saturday. I learned a long time ago not to intrude on family unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
From the men’s faces, Charlotte could see that the idea of family suited them just fine.
* * *
“Let’s go in my bedroom suite, where we’re hopefully assured more privacy,” Charlotte told the chief when they entered the house. “Can I get you something to drink, Theresa? Iced tea, lemonade, coffee?”
“I’m fine, hon, and I have some news. That wineglass that you gave me? The prints on it match some latents that we got off the pitchfork handle. It’s not solid evidence—there were lots of prints on the stick—but it’s something. “
“Wow, that’s interesting.” Charlotte processed the information for a moment
“By the look on your face, I’m guessing that there are some things that you’re itching to tell me too.” Theresa looked at Charlotte and cocked her head.
“There are, Theresa, but you go first.” Charlotte guided her to the sofa in front of the fireplace, and she herself took the club chair. The French doors were open, and a salt air breeze occasionally tickled the sheer, light-filtering curtains into a dance.
“I really can’t believe the wonderful change that has come over this place in the few weeks that you’ve been here, Charlotte. You are a goddess.”
Charlotte laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I think that I’m getting closer to clearing the dark cloud that still hangs over my head.”
“Wouldn’t it be just peachy if we could solve this murder before Saturday’s big barbecue?”
Charlotte looked at Theresa and realized that she was totally serious.
“Any words out of Serge? How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing better, I’m told—sitting up and walking a little bit. Still no recollection of the beating, but the docs say that will come. They just can’t predict how soon.”
“That’s a relief. He’s ripped people off, so he must have known that they’d want retribution. And Wade blames Serge for his firing. The farmer thinks that he was in on it. So that’s already a list of suspects.”
Theresa nodded. “I believe under all that gruff that Wade is actually a coward. He prefers threats and anonymous acts of destruction, but that doesn’t rule him out. Plus, when Serge’s memory does return, he’ll certainly remember if it was Wade who did the beating.”
“I agree. It would have to have been someone with an average build, with nothing out of the ordinary in terms of looks.”
“Or several people: a couple to hold him and another to do the beating. In that scenario, they’d be done in half the time.”
Charlotte shivered as she remembered Samuel’s childhood story about how Wade and his friends bullied young Paul at the creek when they were kids.
“What does Annabel have to say about this?” Charlotte thought about her plans to raise her kids in a more sophisticated, city environment.
“She’s beside herself, as you could expect, but more worried about herself than her husband. She’s afraid that someone will be coming after her next.”
She may be right.
“I didn’t tell her why we needed to urgently talk to Serge, but she didn’t ask either,” Theresa continued
, “which tells me that she probably knew what he was doing to Little Acorn’s poor farmers.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Charlotte thought for a moment. “You know there’s something that has been bothering me about the night of the fire, and I’m finally able to put my finger on it. You said that when you went to the Andersen’s house that night, Annabel was wearing a fancy negligee and robe?”
“Yes, so typical of her.” Theresa shook her head.
“But Annabel knew that Serge was going to be away overnight. That kind of garb can be uncomfortable and difficult to sleep in. Wouldn’t you think that she’d just throw on an oversized T-shirt or something since her husband wasn’t coming home?”
“Unless she was expecting someone else to come over that night?”
“Exactly.” Charlotte proceeded to tell her about her field trip to Whiskey Pete’s Outpost.
“Well, well, are you trying to make detective before Officer Maria does? So the bartender confirmed that she’d seen Marcus at her establishment, and it’s probably a safe guess that Serge brings his mistress or mistresses there on a regular basis. What strange bedfellows.”
“That’s what it sounds like. I wonder if any one of them spotted the other and kept it to themselves. Have you ever had a reason to go in there, Theresa? For professional reasons of course.” Charlotte wanted to be clear about that.
“No, but I know the owner and Betty runs a very tight ship. She makes it known, I’m told, that she has the right to refuse to serve anybody for any reason, and she only needs to enforce that every once in a while for patrons to behave themselves. Another bit of unsettling news,” Theresa continued, biting one side of her bottom lip, “we were finally able to get in contact with Hera Cordero. She now lives in Petaluma, about an hour north of San Francisco. She works in guest services for a prominent winery.”
“Wow, she must have been heartbroken to hear about her son’s death.”
Poor thing.
“Surprised, yes. Sad? Not so much. She explained that she and her son had been estranged since he left home when he turned sixteen. Apparently, while she was at work he took whatever cash was lying around and a keepsake box with the little bit of jewelry and mementos that she’d kept. She hasn’t seen him since.”
Charlotte felt a tear escape her left eye. “If there’s any silver lining, I guess it’s that my uncle didn’t live long enough to see any of this. What a sad story.”
Horse came bursting through the French doors and into the room.
“There you are! Say ‘hello’ to Theresa. Is it mission accomplished?”
Horse nodded his head and squealed.
“I’m not even going to ask. You said that you had a couple of things. What are they?”
Charlotte explained about the issue with the new pump at the lake and could see right away that the information was too thin for the chief to follow up on.
“I also can’t be certain, but I think that someone has been sneaking into our root cellar, trying to do damage to the farmhouse. Either out of spite or to sabotage the place in order to chase me out and drag down the value for a quick buy,” Charlotte explained.
“You mean that time when you hit your head? Are you sure that wasn’t raccoons or some other varmint? There are plenty of those around here in addition to the two-legged variety.”
“I’m not talking about that incident, although I can tell you that there was no evidence whatsoever of any animals having been in the cellar. Horse and I discovered the other day that in the same room where I had my accident, there’s a stone in the wall that can be removed. Actually, Horse was the master sleuth, with his extraordinary pig sense of smell. The sewer line runs behind the wall, and I could see shavings where someone had tried to saw it open but was interrupted before he or she could finish the job.”
“Curious. You’re certain that Joe or Samuel or both aren’t doing some sort of repair job?”
“Good question, Chief. But if they were, why go to so much trouble to hide the work from view? The loose stone was hidden behind a locker box. Plus they’ve been so busy getting the lake ready that I can’t imagine when they would have time. And they certainly wouldn’t just leave the job half-done.
“It was hidden behind a rock in the root cellar in the exact room where I got pummeled with tomato sauce and strawberry jam jars and hit my head.”
“All good points, Charlotte. I’ll send an officer over to inspect the scene. I’ll call when he’s on the way. It seems that we’ve got a lot of pieces to this puzzle. How do we put them all together to make a pretty picture?” Theresa scratched her head, perhaps hoping that an idea would fall out.
“I have a plan that I think could flush out our killer. Pun intended. Let’s talk strategy, shall we?” Charlotte could see that the chief was intrigued.
An hour later they had hatched their plan.
“Okay, it’s late.” Theresa stood.
“One more thing.” Charlotte squinted, hoping that Theresa wouldn’t be too impatient.
“Make it fast.”
“That keepsake box—did Hera tell you exactly what was in it?”
“No, but I can certainly ask.”
Charlotte tried to come up with anything else she needed to tell the chief. Her eyes rested on another possible piece of evidence that she had in her room and she gave it to Theresa and suggested that she lift any prints to compare with the other evidence.
That’s it?” Theresa asked.
“Isn’t that enough?” Charlotte rested her chin in her hand.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlotte walked Theresa out to her car and found Beau and Diane pulling up.
“Hello, my darlings!” Charlotte hugged each of them separately and for a good long time.
“Chief! Let me check your roots,” Beau said, and did just that.
“I’m going to need a couple extra hands with this. I thought we could go ahead and walk it down to the Farm Shop and keep it safe until Saturday,” Diane told the group standing over her open trunk.
Charlotte peered in and sucked in her breadth. “That is the biggest cake that I’ve ever seen! Oh Diane, it’s so beautiful! Is that Horse?”
“It sure is, honey, and up here are the geese.” Diane gestured toward a sheet cake that took up almost the entire trunk space. It rested on a base of plastic and had a matching raised lid that was clear. The words “Finn Family Farm” were written in bright green icing above a scene of strawberry fields. A pink pig was looking up at the words and the geese flying overhead.
“I thought that we could pass cake out to the kids first, and if there’s any left, start on the adults. There’s a layer of strawberry jam in the middle, and the icing is lemon and vanilla,” Diane explained.
“If I have to get a subpoena, I will, but on Saturday a piece of that incredible cake is going home with me!” the chief said.
“I love her,” Beau said, admiring the chief.
Alice and Joe arrived by golf cart and disembarked to greet Beau and Diane and the chief. They too marveled at the cake.
“I’ve got law to enforce, so I’m going to take off,” the chief said. “I’ll see you all on Saturday.” She waved and gave Charlotte a slight nod of the head and a smile.
“Joe, why don’t you help Diane and Beau carry the cake down to the shop?”
“Will do.”
“And don’t drop it!” Alice warned Joe.
“What can I do?” Charlotte asked.
“We’ve got a family feast to prepare!”
“I’m no cook, Alice.” Charlotte cocked her head to one side.
“I know that. In the back of the barn we’ve stored boxes of solar-powered lights with stakes so that they can go into the ground. There’s also a supply of batteries to replace the dead ones. If you’re up for it, take the cart and plant them wherever you like for us tonight, around the table and dock.”
“Great idea, Alice—consider it done,” Charlotte said, saluting her. “Horse, want to go
for a cart ride?”
He hopped up and onto the front passenger seat. Charlotte was warmed to see that Mrs. Robinson had returned and was riding shotgun on the pig’s shoulder.
“It’s uncanny how that pig understands you,” Alice remarked. “I’m going in to peel shrimp.”
When she reached the paddock and barn, Charlotte drove the cart around to the back door for easy loading of the lights. When she opened the door, she heard Samuel’s voice. He was talking on his cell phone.
“Wow. That’s great, but what do you think this means? Do they have the person or not?” Samuel said into his phone. “Okay, thanks.”
Samuel put his phone down and noticed Charlotte.
“I guess you heard the news?” he asked shyly.
“What news?”
“That was Javier. He’s at the feed store in town. Word is that the chief and her officers have evidence that links Marcus’s killer to this farm and the farmhouse.”
“What?” Charlotte slowly lowered herself down onto a sawhorse. “How do you know that this isn’t just Little Acorn gossip that got out of control?”
“I asked Javier the same thing, but he said his friend heard it directly from a clerk who works with the chief.”
“I don’t know what to feel anymore. I went from being shocked that a poor man was killed so savagely on my farm, to thinking that he was family, to learning that he was not a very nice person, and now this. I can’t be invested in this saga any longer, Samuel.” Charlotte slumped and sighed.
I hope that I haven’t laid it on too thick.
Then Samuel did something that she never expected, making her feel first relieved and then guilty.
He reached around and hugged her.
* * *
After an awkward moment, Charlotte told Samuel that she needed to put the lights in place for the evening and loaded up her cart. He retreated to his cabin.
“Okay, Horse, hop back into the cart. We’re going to the lake.”
The pig responded with several oinks and started walking toward the fields.
Dead on the Vine Page 23
