The Final Tap

by Amanda Flower

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Benji pushed through the crowd. “Hey, Kelsey. We’re fine. One of the class members twisted his ankle on a root.”

  The class parted so that I could see the injured person. The elderly man, who was wearing a safari hat and heavy wool coat, sat on an overturned log and rubbed his ankle. He wore loafers, which was not the best footwear choice for tramping in the woods. I made no comment on this. He winced and rubbed his ankle again.

  Lawsuits flashed across my mind. The Farm was insured for such an incident, like any museum would be, but it would still be a nightmare, a nightmare that I didn’t need. I was already being called in by the Cherry Foundation board as it was. I didn’t need a reason for a repeat visit.

  I walked over to the man. “Are you all right? Would you like us to call the paramedics?”

  He grimaced, as if the thought of the EMTs coming out was worse than the pain in his twisted ankle. “Not necessary, but I do think you need to do something about all these roots around the trees. Someone could get killed. I’m lucky that it was only a twisted ankle.”

  I just stared at him. He wanted me to do something about the roots in a forest?

  A woman, wearing a red hat and matching gloves, patted my arm. “It was a wonderful class, and not to worry, my husband will be fine. Russ is a bit of a big baby.”

  Stroud helped the man to his feet. Russ tentatively put weight on his foot.

  “Nothing a little ice won’t fix,” Russ’s wife said.

  I glanced at Benji, and as if she knew what I was thinking, she held up her clipboard. There was an incident report clipped to the front. Good girl.

  “I’m so sorry that you were hurt,” I said to Russ. “Please let us know how we can help.”

  His wife patted my arm again. “We’ll be fine.” She lowered her voice. “And you don’t need to worry about us suing the Farm. My Russ hates paperwork.”

  That was a relief, I supposed.

  Stroud cleared his throat. “Class is just about over, but I want to thank you all for coming out today. I hope that you’ll try tapping the maples on your own land. You have my contact information if you have any questions during the process.”

  The class members clapped, and Stroud beamed. It almost appeared as if he grew an inch or two with their appreciation.

  The class broke up. Russ and his wife were some of the first to leave. I pulled Benji to the side. “Good job on the incident report.”

  Benji beamed. “Thanks. I know how the Foundation has been on your case about filing the small incidents on the Farm.”

  I glanced around to see if anyone was listening. There were only five class members left in the woods, and they surrounded Stroud, peppering him with questions. He seemed to be in his element as he told them the best methods for running a small maple sugaring operation.

  “About the Foundation—I’ve been summoned.”

  Her dark eyes widened. “Summoned? Why?”

  I took the incident report from her hand and skimmed it. All the pertinent information was there. “They want me to come in and brief them about Dr. Beeson’s death.”

  Benji swore. “Kelsey, what are you going to do? Do you need me to watch Hayden? I can skip class.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want you to do that. You miss enough classes as it is because of your job here.” I paused. “Chase is coming, and he’ll meet Hayden’s bus.”

  Her eyes grew even wider. “Chase Wyatt?”

  I cocked my head and tried my best to appear neutral. “Do you know another Chase?”

  “I just think it’s weird, that’s all. You’ve been insisting for months that you guys are just friends, but now he’s coming here to watch Hayden …” She trailed off.

  “We’re friends. I would have asked you or Laura if you’d been available. In fact, Laura will be here later. She just can’t be here in time to meet Hayden’s bus.”

  Benji opened her mouth. I knew it was to offer skipping class again.

  I held up my hand to stop her. “I don’t want you skipping class. I’m sure it won’t be long, and Chase is available. Don’t worry about it.”

  She frowned as if she wanted to say something more. I walked over to join Stroud and the students.

  “Thank you so much,” one of the men said. “This was very helpful. I plan to go home and tap my tree this very afternoon.”

  Stroud nodded. “Remember, don’t over-tap. One or two spiles, depending on the size of the tree, should do the trick. With this turn toward warmer weather, you might even get some sap today.”

  The last members of the class headed for the path back to the visitor center. Through the forest, I could just see the tip of my cottage. When summer came and all the trees in the grove were leafed out, the cottage would be completely hidden from view. “Thanks again for taking over this class on very short notice,” I said to Stroud.

  He nodded sagely. “Yes. Except for that small incident of the man’s turned ankle, everything went very well. I appreciate you inviting me to teach.”

  “While I was out, I stopped by the college where Dr. Beeson worked,” I told him. I watched for his reaction and wasn’t disappointed.

  He gave a sharp intake of breath. “Why on earth would you go there?”

  I frowned. “It’s the same college where my father teaches. I was there to see my dad.”

  “Oh.” Stroud relaxed just a little. It was an abrupt change from the man who’d just been teaching the tree tapping course with so much self-assurance. It seemed to me that the maple sugar expert was nervous when speaking about anything other than tree tapping or making maple syrup.

  I paused, wondering if I should say what happened next, but Stroud had a right to know as much as I did. I took a breath. “While I was there, I ran into a student of Dr. Beeson’s.”

  His body went full-on guitar string tense again. “I don’t know why that concerns me.”

  “She said Dr. Beeson asked her to call you and me, separately, to cancel your involvement in the tree tapping class. She pretended to be me when she called you, and pretended to be your daughter when she called me.”

  His mouth fell open. After a half second, he snapped it shut. “Beeson was behind it?” His voice was sharp.

  Behind Stroud, I saw Benji surveying the ground around the trees, looking for anything that the class members may have dropped. She carried a cordless drill in her hand. Just seeing it gave me the chills.

  “Why would she do that?” Stroud asked, bringing me back to the present.

  “Dr. Beeson asked her to, and promised to raise her grade for his class if she did.” I stepped back. “He didn’t tell her why he wanted her to make those calls. She didn’t know. I really don’t believe she understood what she was doing.”

  “What’s her name?” he asked.

  There was no way that I was telling Stroud her name, even her fake one. She was going to have enough trouble when she went to the police and told them what she did. I shook my head.

  His face turned beet red. “You won’t tell me?”

  I shook my head again.

  He spun around and marched away, splashing in the mud as he went.

  twenty

  Back at the visitor center, the children were filing out to the waiting school buses. My shoulders drooped. This was the second day in a row that I’d missed participating in the school visits. Both times were because of Beeson. I shook off the uncharitable thoughts. The man was dead, so I had no reason to feel sorry for myself.

  Gavin high-fived each child who walked out the door. One of the boys smacked him hard, and Gavin winced and shook out his hand as if the impact smarted. He was laughing though, and the kids were eating up his antics. Seeing Gavin and how great he was with the kids, it was hard for me to believe that anyone could think he was a killer, threat or no threat.r />
  Gavin caught me watching him and handed out the required high fives to the last three kids in line at a run before coming over to me.

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  “Great. They’re great kids.”

  “And I can see they love you too.” I smiled.

  He shrugged, but there was a slight blush to his cheeks.

  “Listen, Gavin,” I said, turning serious. “I want to go to your family’s sugarhouse in the park. How long do you think it would take to get there and back?”

  He thought for a moment. “Maybe fifteen minutes if we hike there.”

  I pulled my cell phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. “It’s one thirty. That should give us enough time. I have to be back before three.” I paused. “I have a meeting with the Cherry Foundation.”

  “Was this meeting planned?”

  I sighed. “Not by me. Let’s go to the sugarhouse now, before my meeting.”

  He slumped against the ticket counter. “Are you sure you want to do this? There doesn’t seem much point.”

  “If Beeson was tapping the trees in the park, I want to see that sugarhouse and who might be there. It’s within walking distance of where he died. Someone from the sugarhouse could have run over to the Farm, stabbed Beeson with the drill, and run back like nothing happened.”

  Gavin winced at my theory of events. “Beeson usually did his sugaring alone. I can’t imagine anyone else was there.”

  I thought for a moment. “Maybe the sugarhouse was where he was headed all along. Maybe he wasn’t interested as much in the red maples as in returning to his sugarhouse.”

  Gavin frowned. “It wasn’t his sugarhouse.”

  I gave him a sideways look. “Okay, the park’s sugarhouse.”

  His frown deepened but he didn’t argue with me about the ownership of the sugarhouse anymore. Then he nodded. “All right. I hope you have on comfortable boots, because it’s a bit of a hike. With all the melting snow and slush, the trail might be hard to find.”

  I followed Gavin outside and whistled for Tiffin as I went. He galloped after us and slid under the fence around the pasture. Betty and Mags didn’t seem to be fazed anymore with people walking through their land—there had been so much of it in the last few days.

  The day was warmer than it had been in weeks. I removed my stocking hat and shoved it inside my coat pocket. The temps were supposed climb into the forties, and it seemed like they had.

  “The sap has been running,” Gavin said as we walked. “It should be fine for the festival tomorrow.”

  I frowned as the irony of the situation hit me.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, shortening his long strides to match mine.

  “It’s just that Dr. Beeson stomped away from Benji and me when he thought our trees couldn’t be tapped because the sap wasn’t running yet. Now they are. It seems like such as waste. He might still be alive if he hadn’t stomped off in a tantrum about it being so cold.”

  “Beeson was a hot-head.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “And you’re not? Threatening to kill him was a bad idea.”

  Gavin climbed over the split-rail fence on the other side of the pasture. “I know. That was stupid, but I was just so furious.”

  I climbed over the fence too. When my feet hit the ground, I said, “Tell me how the land rights work.”

  “Well, even though the park technically belongs to the state, for the most part New Hartford manages it, including the sugaring rights,” Gavin explained. “My family has been maple sugaring there for fifty-some years. When the state decided to turn the woods into a park, New Hartford gave my grandfather the rights to continue tapping the trees for twenty more years. They said it was renewable when that time was up. It was a peace offering, so that my grandfather would stop complaining to them about the woods becoming a park. Dad and I knew about the time limits on the tapping rights expiring, and we went to the town council to extend them. That’s when we found out Beeson had beat us to it. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so mad.” His face turned red. “When I said in that meeting that I wanted to kill him, I did. I could have.”

  I stopped in the middle of the woods, and for the first time I wondered if I’d made some terrible mistake and Gavin was guilty. I waited.

  Tiffin barked and circled us, as if he could herd us on to the sugarhouse.

  “I could have killed him, but I didn’t.” There were tears in Gavin’s dark eyes. “Do you believe me?”

  I gave a sigh of relief and patted his arm. “Of course I believe you, Gavin. And you may think you could have killed, but I don’t. You don’t have it in you. I’ve seen you with the kids on the Farm and with Hayden. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  He gave me a half smile, but his eyes were worried. “Are you saying I’m not tough?”

  “I’m saying that you have more compassion than you give yourself credit for. There’s nothing wrong with that. How did you get involved in Sap and Spile anyway?”

  Gavin sighed. “I did it for my dad. Our families have been members for generations and he wanted me to continue the tradition. I know it’s what my dad wants, but it hasn’t been easy. The guys in the group can be Neanderthals and no one wants to use any of the new methods for tree tapping. They’re doing it the same way they have for fifty years. Conrad was the only one of them who wanted to find new ways to operate. I guess I can give him that much.” His shoulders drooped, and he changed the subject. “It shouldn’t be too much farther now. I can smell maple syrup boiling.” He frowned. “Someone must be here.”

  “I thought you said Beeson worked alone.”

  “I thought he did.” Gavin lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “He always has before.”

  I sniffed. There was the faint smell of maple syrup on the light breeze. My brow furrowed. “Who could it—”

  “Don’t move!” a husky voice shouted, accompanied by the whirl of a power drill just behind me.

  I didn’t get to finish my sentence.

  twenty-one

  For the past twenty-four hours, I hadn’t been a big fan of drills, power or otherwise. I considered all drills to be enemies, especially those so close to running me through. Slowly, I turned around.

  “What are you doing here?” A girl close to Gavin’s age held the drill in the air like it was a gun. I didn’t know if she planned to drill Gavin and me or just throw it at us. I guessed that she hadn’t made up her mind yet, and we’d need to start talking before she did.

  Gavin held up his hands. “Corrie, calm down.”

  The girl looked to be on the chubby side, but that could have been her heavy down coat. She had a full face and piercing green eyes lined in black eyeliner. Those eyes were currently glaring at Gavin for all they were worth. “What are you doing here, Gavin?”

  “What are you doing here, Corrie?” he countered. “I’ve never known you to take any interest in maple sugaring.”

  “What do you know about my interests, Gavin Elliot?” She scowled.

  Gavin glared. “Put the drill down before you hurt yourself. You’re the last person on earth who should have access to power tools.”

  She lowered the drill. “I can boil maple sugar as easily as you or anyone in Sap and Spile can. It’s not brain surgery. Are you here to collect the park’s sap now that my father is dead?”

  I lowered my hands. “You’re Dr. Beeson’s daughter?”

  She dropped the drill to her side, but I noticed that her finger stayed on the trigger. I would continue to keep my distance. “So what if I am?” she spat. “Who is this with you, Gavin? Your new girlfriend? It’s nice to know that you can move on so quickly.”

  The top of Gavin’s ears turned bright red. “She’s my boss, Cor. Kelsey Cambridge, the director of Barton Farm. You’ve heard me talk about her before.”

  I glanced from G
avin to Corrie and back again. Slowly, my maple-sugar-filled brain put the pieces together. They were a couple, or at least they had been. But given the tone of the conversation, they weren’t anymore, and the breakup was still fresh for both of them. “You two know each other?” I asked.

  Corrie redirected her glare from Gavin’s face to mine. I had to say, I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable under her inspection. “We’ve known each other since we were children.”

  Gavin cleared his throat. “We dated for a little while.”

  Corrie lifted her drill into attack position. “Since when is four years ‘a little while’? You always have to qualify everything. Like you qualified why you dumped me.”

  I took two tiny steps backward.

  “I couldn’t stay with you after you sided with your father,” Gavin said. “You know how much he hurt my family. We’ve been maple sugaring here on this land for generations, and he swooped in and stole it out from under us. Do you agree with what he did?”

  Corrie shook her drill at him. “You can’t ask me to choose between you and my father.”

  She had a point. I’d refuse to do that too. Now it was starting to make sense why Gavin had been so reluctant to come over and check out his old sugaring site. I gave my director of education a sideways glance. He could have warned me about this possible complication, just as he could have warned me that Sap and Spile was a men-only club. I wondered what else my employee wasn’t telling me.

  Gavin’s ears turned that much redder. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Corrie. What are you doing here?”

  She scowled at him. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m finishing what my father started.”

  Gavin looked as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself.

  This conversation wasn’t going well with Gavin in the lead. “Corrie,” I began. “I asked Gavin to bring me here to see your father’s sugaring operation. I hadn’t realized it was so close to the Farm. I wondered if maybe he was heading this direction when he fell.”

  She turned her attention to me again but didn’t lower her drill. “I wondered the same thing. That’s why I came here to check it out. I found it in full sugaring operation—his sap barrel was already collecting sap. He set things up so that the moment the sap began to run, he could start syrup production right away. I knew if I didn’t boil it, all his hard work of tapping and piping the trees would go to waste.”