No Farm, No Foul (Farmer's Daughter Mystery)

by Peg Cochran

  Bert followed them. “Are those the colors?” she asked, pointing to the sample paint swipes on the tops of the cans.

  Shelby nodded. “I think they’re going to look great,” she said, almost defiantly.

  Bert looked around the room and ran a hand through her short gray hair. “You’re right. It’s about time this place got a face-lift. Besides, it’s yours now. Time to put your stamp on it, I suppose. I don’t know what your grandmother would say, but she’s not here, is she?” She turned to Shelby.

  Shelby hid a smile. She knew Bert would come around eventually.

  Bert gestured toward the paint cans. “Let me know if you need any help. I’m pretty good with a paintbrush if I haven’t lost my touch.” She looked at the two of them with a bemused expression on her face. “I’m going to go throw those tops I mended for you into the washing machine.”

  Shelby and Matt were silent as they watched Bert walk through the kitchen and down the hall.

  Matt opened his mouth, then closed it again. He appeared to have reconsidered what he was about to say. Finally, after a brief pause, he said, “I take it there’s still no news about Prudence’s murder? Your brother-in-law is the detective on the case, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, although the last time we spoke, he didn’t have much of anything to tell me. At least not anything he was able to share.” Shelby hesitated for a second. “I did have an interesting conversation with Earl—he’s the church usher who quit when Prudence accused him of stealing from the Sunday collection.”

  “I know Earl. He’s a good guy. I hope no one believed Prudence.”

  Shelby shrugged. “You know how those things are—no one wants to believe the story, but it gets repeated over and over until it becomes fact. People always seem to be quicker to believe something bad about a person than something good.”

  Matt grunted. “Human nature, I guess.”

  “And now people are saying . . . that Earl might have had something to do with Prudence’s death,” Shelby continued.

  Dear Reader, I know I was the one thinking that Earl might have had something to do with Prudence’s death, but I can hardly tell Matt that, can I?

  “That’s ridiculous.” The words nearly exploded out of Matt.

  “Obviously that’s what Earl said. He also told me he was with you at the time of the murder.”

  Matt frowned. “You’re right. He was with me. He asked me if I needed any help loading the empty crates and coolers back into the truck. We went to tell Prudence we were going to start packing up, and Earl was still with me when we heard you screaming for someone to call nine-one-one.”

  Looks like that successfully rules Earl out as a suspect, Shelby thought.

  “I’d better be going,” Matt said. “But I’ll call you and we can fix up a time to do the painting.” He gestured toward the walls of the mudroom.

  Shelby showed him to the door and when she turned around Bert was standing behind her with a sly smile on her face.

  “What?” Shelby asked.

  Bert laughed. “Nothing. It’s just that I think you have an admirer there.” She gestured toward the closed door.

  “Matt? I know.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So are you going to go out with him?”

  “He hasn’t asked me yet.”

  Shelby thought of the moment when Matt had opened his mouth and then quickly closed it again. Had he been about to ask her out but then changed his mind? She was glad he hadn’t. She wasn’t ready to say yes yet.

  Shelby and Bert spent what remained of the afternoon testing a new recipe Shelby had created for a layered vegetable tart that made good use of the tomatoes, zucchini, and eggplant from her garden.

  Amelia had already come skulking back—this time she’d really been to Kaylee’s house. As soon as Shelby had heard the car in the driveway, she’d run out to check. That didn’t change the fact that Amelia knew she was grounded but had gone out anyway. Shelby would have to decide how to deal with that later. If Bill were there, he’d know what to do. Although Shelby wondered if Amelia’s sudden streak of obstreperousness wasn’t a delayed response to her father’s death.

  They had just gotten the tart in the oven when Shelby looked at her watch and then turned to Bert. “I’m going to call Billy to come and start washing up. Depending on how dirty he’s gotten, he may need a bath before dinner.”

  Shelby opened the screen door to the mudroom, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled, “Billy! Come get ready for dinner.”

  She waited, but there was no response. She scanned the horizon, waiting for Billy to appear. When he didn’t, she put her fingers in her mouth and let out a loud whistle.

  “Billy,” she yelled again.

  This time Bitsy and Jenkins came running. They’d learned that when she called Billy to come in, dinner was probably not far off, and both of them were shameless beggars. It worked—rarely a night went by when they didn’t get at least a couple of morsels of leftovers.

  Shelby was beginning to get annoyed. Billy knew that if he didn’t come home straightaway when she called him, he would be limited to playing on the front lawn or in the back where she could easily see him.

  She yelled again and waited. A tingling sense of unease was making its way up her spine to the back of her neck and prickling over her scalp in a way that made her shiver. She thought about the squash that she had found hanging from her porch ceiling. Was someone trying to tell her something again?

  The thought that they might have done something to Billy made her frantic. She screamed again, panic nearly blocking her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Bert had come running out of the house to stand next to Shelby.

  “It’s Billy. He’s not coming. He always comes when he hears me call.”

  Bert put a hand on Shelby’s arm. “It’s not like you to get so worked up like this.”

  Shelby thought of the squash and opened her mouth to explain but then shut it again. Talking about it would make it too real. Besides, she didn’t want to worry Bert for no reason.

  “The boy’s probably just wandered out of earshot. Come on.” Bert hooked her arm through Shelby’s. “Let’s go find him.”

  Shelby let Bert lead her past the kitchen garden, past the herb and lettuce gardens, and back to where a handful of fruit trees grew. Shelby continued to call Billy at regular intervals.

  Shelby stopped and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Billy. Come home this instant.”

  She and Bert listened intently.

  “Did you hear that?” Shelby turned to Bert. “I thought I heard something.”

  “I’m afraid you couldn’t prove it by me. The hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

  There was another faint cry, and this time they both heard it.

  “It’s coming from over there.” Shelby pointed toward a cluster of apple trees.

  They headed in that direction. As they got closer, the voice became louder.

  “Mom, Mom, help!”

  “Oh my goodness, I wonder what’s happened.” Shelby quickened her pace. “Billy, where are you?” she called back.

  Had he fallen down a hole? Was there an old well on the property no one knew about? The thought gave Shelby chills.

  “Can you see him?” Shelby asked Bert.

  Bert shook her head. “No, but his voice sounds strong—not like he’s hurt.”

  Shelby clutched a hand to her heart. “I hope you’re right.”

  As they got closer, Billy’s voice became louder, but they still couldn’t see him. His voice sounded much closer—almost as if he was standing next to them—so where on earth was he?

  “Up here, Mom. I’m stuck.”

  Shelby looked up into the branches of the apple tree and was shocked to see Billy clinging to a branch.


  “Billy, get down from there,” she said, although she knew that was an irrational thing to say. Obviously if he could get down, he would have done so by now.

  “I can’t. I’m afraid.”

  “Then how did you get up there in the first place?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I used to be a whiz at tree climbing, but not anymore,” Bert said ruefully.

  “Me, too, but I don’t think I can reach up there.” Shelby stared into the tree. She couldn’t imagine how Billy had gotten himself so far up into the branches.

  Shelby and Bert both whirled around when they heard someone clearing their throat.

  “Sorry, ladies. Didn’t mean to startle you,” Jake said. “I couldn’t help hearing you calling for Billy, and it sounded like you might be having some kind of trouble.”

  Shelby glanced at Bert, and she had that sly smile again.

  “Do we need a ladder?” Shelby asked as Jake stared up at the tree branches. “I can’t imagine how Billy reached that first branch.” She pointed toward the lowest-hanging one, which was still well over Billy’s head.

  Jake laughed and gestured toward an overturned crate on the far side of the tree. “I’m guessing he stood on that.”

  “Oh! You’re right.” Shelby hadn’t noticed the crate.

  “Billy,” Jake called into the tree. “Hang on. I’m coming to get you.”

  And with that, Jake jumped up and grabbed a branch. He pulled himself up until he was sitting on it.

  Bert poked Shelby with her elbow. “He’s strong,” she said admiringly. “Good-looking, too. If I were younger . . .”

  Jake made his way up the tree until he reached the branch where Billy was stuck. He grabbed Billy around the waist and began to make his way back down, holding the boy firmly. When he got to the lowest branch, he held Billy out, and Shelby reached up and grabbed him. Jake jumped down himself, landing next to Shelby with a soft thud.

  “Thank you so much,” Shelby said, although she felt the words were inadequate even as she said them. She hugged Billy fiercely until he finally managed to squirm away with a scowl.

  Jake shook his head. “No problem. Glad I could help. One of my heifers managed to get her head stuck in the fence, so I was on this side of the pasture, and I heard you yelling. If you ever need my help again, just call, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll see you later, then.” He nodded at Bert.

  Shelby and Bert stood and watched his retreating back. Billy was kicking fallen apples against the tree.

  Bert turned to Shelby. “Looks like you’ve got not one, but two men interested in you. I think you’re going to have to think about dating again sooner rather than later.”

  18

  Dear Reader,

  Billy certainly gave me a scare today. I’m sure Bert and I would have figured something out, but it was nice to be rescued for once. There, I said it. I pride myself on my independence, but it’s certainly nice to have someone working side by side with you or doing something that’s easier for them than it would be for you.

  Bert keeps after me to start dating. She’s forgetting one important fact—no one has asked me yet. I’m pretty sure I could easily remedy that, but I’m still a little hesitant to leave the safety of the starting gate.

  The vegetable tart was a big success. Even Billy had seconds, and he’s not overly fond of vegetables—although he loves watching them grow in the garden. He is so proud of his on-its-way-to-being-gigantic zucchini. I will be sharing the recipe for the tart with you shortly—I have an idea for one more tweak before I consider it perfect.

  Shelby had insisted that Bert stay for dinner so she could weigh in on the vegetable tart. It was her idea to add a pinch of nutmeg to the mixture, and Shelby was looking forward to trying that next time.

  They were sitting around the table enjoying a cup of coffee. Amelia was rinsing and stacking the dishes in the dishwasher—reluctantly, which was obvious by the way she was banging the plates and silverware around. Shelby was turning a deaf ear—she would have felt sorrier for Amelia, but she was still fuming that she’d disobeyed the order that she was grounded.

  Billy had been quiet during dinner. His face had been as white as flour when Jake rescued him from that tree, and he was still not back to his usual boisterous self. The house seemed strangely quiet without his normal noise-making.

  Shelby and Bert were finishing up their coffee when Billy burst into the kitchen.

  “Can I go check on my zucchini? Can I? Can I?” He hopped from one foot to the other impatiently.

  Shelby took a deep breath. Part of her never wanted to let him out of her sight again. “I don’t know. . . .”

  “Oh, Mom, please. I just know it’s gotten bigger. I haven’t checked it since before Sunday, so it’s bound to have grown a ton. It has to have so I can win the competition at the county fair. Kenny Gardener said he’s going to win, but he’s just saying that. I saw his zucchini and it wasn’t half as big as mine.”

  Shelby looked at Bert.

  Bert raised her eyebrows. “You can’t wrap him in cotton wool,” she said.

  “Okay.” Shelby sighed. “But you’re not to go any farther than the vegetable garden, do you hear me? And absolutely no climbing trees.”

  “Sure,” Billy, who was already halfway to the door to the mudroom, called over his shoulder.

  Shelby sighed again.

  Bert put her hand over Shelby’s. “You can’t protect him from everything.”

  “I know. But what if we hadn’t found him this afternoon, and what if he’d tried to get down from that tree and fallen, and what if he’d lain there with a broken—”

  “Whoa!” Bert put out a hand. “That’s an awful lot of what-ifs, don’t you think? Besides, nothing happened. Other than that we got to see your extremely hot neighbor in action.” She grinned.

  “Bert!”

  “What? There may be wrinkles around my eyes, but they aren’t interfering with my vision. I can still see and appreciate, you know.”

  Shelby laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  They had just begun to clean up the coffee cups and saucers when they heard the screen door to the mudroom slam, and Billy burst into the room.

  “So, how big is your zucchini now?” Shelby asked as she put the cups in the dishwasher.

  “It’s not.” Billy’s face was red with fury. “It’s gone!”

  “Gone? How can that be?” Shelby exchanged a glance with Bert. Had some hungry animal come along and eaten it?

  “It’s not there. It’s gone.” Billy’s lip trembled, and Shelby could tell he was trying hard not to cry.

  “Maybe you just missed it? The leaves on that plant are huge, and your zucchini might be tucked underneath one of them.”

  “I don’t know. . . .” Billy’s face started to brighten slightly. “Do you think so?”

  Shelby nodded as she untied her apron. “I’m sure of it. Let’s go find your zucchini.” She mentally crossed her fingers. She wasn’t at all sure they’d find it, and he would be heartbroken if they didn’t.

  They made a sad-looking parade as they trooped out to the garden—Shelby biting her lip, Bert with a frown between her eyebrows, and Billy hunching his shoulders against possible disappointment.

  At this time of the evening, the sun was on its way down, and the garden was in shadow. The air was cooler than it had been all day and felt good against Shelby’s warm face. She waded into the space between the rows of zucchini plants, feeling the leaves brushing against her bare legs.

  “Where exactly was your zucchini?” Shelby asked. She’d lived in fear of accidentally picking it and had finally come up with the solution of tying a piece of twine around the stem to remind her not to.

  “Here.” Billy knelt in the dirt a
nd separated the leaves. “It was right here.”

  “Maybe some of the plants have grown up around it?” Bert said as she stooped over with a hand to her back. She pushed back leaf after leaf.

  Shelby did the same. It was undeniable. The zucchini was gone. Plenty more still clung to the vines but none nearly as big as the one Billy had been nurturing all month.

  “Look,” Bert said suddenly, parting two of the giant leaves.

  A broken stem with a piece of twine around it was clearly visible, but it was obvious that the zucchini itself was gone.

  “I told you,” Billy said, rubbing his eyes in an effort not to cry. “Someone stole it. It was right there.” He pointed to the stem.

  Bert straightened up. “Who would do something like that?”

  “I can’t imagine. Do you suppose some animal ate it?”

  Bert shook her head. “You can see the squash was twisted right off the stem. If an animal had taken it, the break wouldn’t be so clean. And if they’d eaten it, there’d at least be a few remnants on the ground—some seeds or some peel or something.”

  “That’s true.” Shelby looked at Bert, her eyes wide in disbelief. “It really does look as if it was stolen.”

  Billy was inconsolable. Shelby finally bundled him into the car to take him for an ice-cream cone. She tried to convince Amelia to come along, but it was obvious she didn’t want to be seen with her mother and younger brother. There was a soft-serve ice-cream shop on the road that led out of town. Shelby knew high school kids congregated there during the summer, and she supposed Amelia thought it would be uncool to be seen there with her family.

  Or maybe she was afraid Ned would be there, and Shelby would embarrass her in front of him. Shelby could remember feeling the exact same way when she was Amelia’s age, so perhaps being embarrassed by your family was some sort of teenage rite of passage.

  A double chocolate-dipped cone topped with sprinkles put Billy in fairly good humor again. Shelby treated herself to a small vanilla cone, and she and Billy shared one side of a picnic table with a father and his two daughters on the other side.