by Dayle Gaetz
“Me?” Cliff chuckled. “Scary?”
Katie plunged on with her story. “So when the phone rang, I sort of told Rusty to pretend it was Aunt Sarah. That way Cliff would think you wanted us to come back right away. And Rusty did good too, he really sounded as if he was talking to you.”
“And after that Cliff got real nice,” Rusty added.
Now every eye shifted to Cliff.
He shook his head, laughing. “I don’t believe this! Okay, sure I was mad at first when I saw the kids with that chicken wire, but I apologized for that. And when I saw Rusty with that phone, I was almost sure he was lying, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. You know me, I’m one of the least scary guys in the world. If you want scary, look at Scott Holden. He took Megan’s cell, and I mean to find out why.” Cliff swung around on his heel and stomped out the door.
It was GJ who broke the silence following Cliff’s departure. “Well,” he said, “no harm done. And that was quick thinking kids. It’s good to know you can handle yourselves if you believe there’s a problem.”
“Even if it was only Cliff,” Aunt Margaret added. “He’s the nicest young man you could ever hope to meet.” She turned to Rusty’s mom. “Sarah, why don’t you and Rusty go off on that walk now? And Laura, you must be wanting to spend some time with Katie. I’m going to take that cell phone upstairs and have a chat with my own daughter.”
Katie watched her aunt start up the stairs and forced her feet not to follow. She wanted to press her ear to Megan’s door and listen. She wanted to ask… “Katie?”
She turned to face her mom. “Katie, didn’t you hear me? I asked if you want to go out to the porch where we can sit and chat?”
Katie glanced back up the stairs. “Sure, okay.”
Her mom smiled and her dark eyes twinkled. Suddenly, more than anything, Katie wanted to sit and talk with her mom. There were so many things she wanted to tell her and so many questions she wanted to ask about home and Dad and Michael.
13
Katie climbed the stairs, hugging all her birthday presents tight against her stomach: cell phone, notebook, flashlight, Swiss Army knife and both new books.
At the top, she paused and stared down that long gloomy hallway to Megan’s room, wishing she had somewhere else to go.
She drew a deep breath and trudged on slowly, as if she were headed for the gallows. In front of Megan’s door she paused again. Hostility seeped through the crack beneath it. Resentment trickled out the keyhole.
Katie placed her hand on the doorknob. She reminded herself that already this summer she had faced up to a furtive family of art thieves, two treacherous gold diggers and a couple of conniving land developers. And she had managed to survive. Why was she so afraid of one faintly freaky teenaged cousin?
Besides, she glanced at her notebook and told herself, this could be a perfect opportunity to squeeze some information out of Megan. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. Should she knock first?
Only if she valued her life. Katie tapped on the door and waited. When there was no answer, she took a shaky breath and inched open the door.
Megan lay on her bed, head propped on pillows, reading the book Katie’s mom and Aunt Sarah gave her about birds of the prairies. While she read she raised her legs straight up from the bed, held them there, and slowly lowered them again. Emily’s words filtered into Katie’s thoughts…“They never stop exercising.”
The purple lipstick and nail polish from Emily were tossed carelessly aside. Had Megan even thanked her? A tape recorder from Gram and GJ, for recording bird songs, sat on her desk. Who would have guessed that Megan was interested in birds and nature, just like Sheila?
Thinking of Sheila, Katie felt a pang of guilt. She had forgotten to phone and thank Sheila for the mystery novel. Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow I’ll phone.
She stopped abruptly. Lost in thought, she had wandered across the room and now stood much too close to Megan. So close she could see over Megan’s flat stomach to the edge of a small, black, leather-bound book tucked against her side. “Do you keep a journal?” Katie asked, without thinking.
“What if I do?” Megan growled.
“Uh, I don’t know, I just wondered…”
Megan scowled, but her eyes never left the book.
Now or never, Katie told herself. If she was going to question her cousin, first she needed to get through to her. So she straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat and began. “My friend would love your new book; she’s into birds and stuff like that too.”
Katie waited for a reaction. Still scowling, still raising and lowering her long thin legs, Megan kept her eyes on the book.
Katie started to back away, afraid to take her eyes off Megan. She had reached her cot when an idea popped into her head. It was the perfect way to approach her cousin. “Megan. I saw a couple of ducks today, in that slough up by the road. You know, by the poplar trees where Scott always parks his truck?”
Megan’s head jerked up and she laid down her book, rested her legs. She studied Katie skeptically.
Katie swallowed. “So, anyway, they were hanging around that nest basket, and I kind of wondered what they were. Did you make it?”
“What?”
“The nest basket, did you make it? Because, if you did, I think it’s, like, really cool to do that, you know, and help the ducks.” And how come I’m, like, talking like Emily? Katie wondered.
Megan’s face softened. “What did they look like?”
“Who?”
Her eyes rolled up into her brain. “The ducks?”
“Oh.” Katie dumped her birthday presents on her cot and gestured with her hands as she described what she had seen.
Megan’s scowl faded and her eyes lit up. “They sound like pintails. I didn’t realize they were there.” Megan’s lips twitched. Katie wondered if she might be smiling. Her cousin sat up cross-legged on her bed and flipped through her bird book. She held it open toward Katie. “Is this them?”
Katie moved closer. “Yep, that’s them. Hmmm, a male and a female.” She drew a deep breath and pressed on. “We found some chicken wire lying in the grass too. Is that what you use to make the baskets? Did you make that one?”
Megan’s face hardened. “I never meant to leave it lying around!” she said fiercely. “I really thought I picked it all up.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I don’t understand what’s happening to my brain.”
Katie retreated to her cot again, wondering if Megan was thinking about the wire near the road or that other wire in the field. “It was an accident,” she said.
“Of course it was an accident! Do you think I would trap my mother under the windrower on purpose?” Her voice rose to a shout. “I might be stupid and careless, but I’m not violent!” Her face crumpled and she pressed her fists against her forehead. “Haven’t you figured that out yet Ms. Great Detective?”
“Amazing,” Katie whispered.
“What?”
“It’s Amazing Detective now, I’ve upgraded.” Katie grinned to show she was joking, but Megan only stared at her, frowning as if she’d missed something important.
Katie felt the need to speak. “So, you dropped the chicken wire when you made the nest basket. Did you drop your cell phone by accident too?”
Megan went wild. She leapt to her feet, shouting, “Why does everyone say that? I told you, I didn’t have my cell today! Someone took it.”
Which led to one more question. But should she ask it? Would Megan charge across the room and quietly strangle her to death? Katie sidled closer to the door. “Do you think it was Scott?” she whispered.
Megan didn’t charge. She stared for long seconds and then collapsed onto her bed. Facing the wall, she curled into a tight ball. When she spoke her voice was barely audible. “Of course not. How would he get in the house with all these people around? It has to be me. I must be losing it.”
Katie settled on the edge of her cot, opened her notebook and started to
write.
Is Megan right? Is she losing it?
What is “it”?
Did she have her cell phone tonight or not?
How did it end up by Scott’s truck?
Three possibilities:
1. Scott sneaked in and snitched it when we were in Humboldt.
Why?
So he could use it to phone Aunt Margaret and blackmail her.
If he’s behind all the accidents and phone calls, what might his motives be:
Revenge on Aunt Margaret?
Money for college—not much chance of that.
But why use Megan’s cell?
Maybe the number wouldn’t show up if Aunt Margaret hit call return.
He could phone from his truck and spy on the house at the same time.
He’s trying to make Megan look guilty—don’t ask why.
Problem with Scott theory:
Aunt Margaret locked the house up tight AND Cliff was here all day.
Megan must have been with Scott when that call was made, so she is either in on it, or, 2. Megan had the phone and lied about it (or forgot?)
Why?
Who knows? She does tons of dumb stuff.
Is she on drugs?
Problem with Megan theory:
Megan might be careless and forgetful and totally weird, but I don’t think she’s deceitful and dishonest.
Threatening her mom is miles different from doing dumb stuff by mistake.
The voice on the phone tonight was a man’s, no way it could have been Megan.
So, if Megan took her own phone, she lent it to Scott to make the call.
Would they both be dumb enough to leave it lying on the grass where anyone could find it and check the outgoing calls?
Which leads to:
3. Cliff could have taken the phone when no one was home. He has a key.
He was outside when the call was made, so it could have been him just as easily as Scott.
Motives:
He wants a farm of his own.
He’s trying to drive Aunt Margaret away.
He doesn’t like Scott and wants to set him up.
How sneaky is that?
Problem with Cliff theory:
Why would he take Megan’s phone?
If he’s the one who made those other calls Aunt Margaret mentioned, why not use the same phone again?
Aunt Margaret says Cliff is such a nice guy.
Is he really trying to set Scott up? Did he drop the phone out there on purpose for someone to find?
I must be missing something here.
Suddenly she remembered. She slid her hand into her short’s pocket and pulled out the crumpled note. Spreading it out on her notebook, she read it carefully. Then, since it didn’t make one bit of sense to her, she copied exactly what Aunt Margaret had written:
GM canola
West field, near road
Call snitch line
Sued for all I own. Ha!
Katie thought for a moment, and then she added this line:
Tomorrow I need to question Aunt Margaret and Cliff. I need to find out…
A shadow flickered across the page. Katie shut her notebook and looked up. Megan loomed above her.“What are you writing?”
“Nothing. It’s just like, you know, a journal.”
Megan’s tongue clicked behind her front teeth. She pulled open the door and started out. Then she leaned back to peek around the door. Her lips twitched at the edges, and this time Katie was almost sure she was smiling. “You’ve been, like, talking to Emily too much.”
The door closed quietly behind her.
14
“I’ll help you with the dishes this morning, Aunt Margaret,” Katie volunteered, hopping up from the table. She picked up her plate and reached for Rusty’s.
He gave her a What, are you nuts? look and scurried out to the porch with his sketchbook securely under his arm.
“That’s so nice of you.” Aunt Margaret turned from the sink where she was running water for dishes.
Katie’s mom looked surprised and suspicious at the same time. “That is nice.” She picked up the nearest bowls. “I’ll help too.”
Katie almost dropped the plates. This was going all wrong. How could she question Aunt Margaret with her mom hanging around?
“No, Laura,” Aunt Margaret said. “You’ve all been working much too hard since you got here. Join the others on the porch and enjoy another cup of coffee.”
Katie forced herself not to smile as her mom left the room. She put the plates next to the sink where Aunt Margaret was up to her elbows in soapy water.
“How come you never use your dishwasher?”
“I would if I could, believe me. But it’s so old it leaks like a sieve, and I can’t afford a new one right now.”
“I guess grain farms aren’t doing so well these days.” Katie picked up a dishtowel. This is good, she thought, she would ease gradually into the list of questions in her mind.
Aunt Margaret placed a cereal bowl in the dish rack. “Farmers have always struggled, Katie. We never know what the weather will do to us. Your Uncle Al and I had some good years though, when Megan was little. Then there were several summers when crops dried up in the fields. A few years back we had the best crop ever, and we were thrilled—until everything was destroyed by an early frost.”
“But, if it’s so hard, why keep doing it?” Katie asked.
“Your uncle and I thought about selling because so many big corporations are taking over farms.
They cultivate huge tracts of land using the latest, most expensive equipment money can buy and the fewest workers possible. It’s almost impossible for family farms like ours to compete.”
“So, why didn’t you sell?”
Aunt Margaret rested her soapy hands on the edge of the sink and gazed out the window. Her eyes misted over. “Your uncle loved this land, just like Cliff does. Al always believed the next year would be better. ‘Next year we’ll be fine, Marg,’ he would say every fall.”
She picked up a plate and rubbed a gob of peanut butter from it. “Now I’m stuck with this farm.”
“But, if Cliff loves farming so much, why not let him take over?”
“Trust me, if I could afford to, I would. Last year I considered selling out to a big corporation, or maybe leasing land to the Hutterites.”
“Who are they?”
“The Hutterites? They’re members of the Hutterian Church who moved to Canada seeking religious freedom. Most of them are farmers and they live and work together in large communities—so they can make a go of it where people like us can’t.”
“Then, why didn’t you lease to them?”
“Cliff talked me out of it. He’s sure, if we have a good crop this year, he’ll be able to buy from me next summer at a fair price. I promised I’d wait. He’s been so good to us over the past two years.”
“I don’t get it.” Katie dried another plate and piled it on the growing stack in front of her. “Why would Cliff have more money if you have a good crop? Isn’t that your money?”
“Not exactly. We made an agreement. I can’t pay him what he’s worth, so he’ll take a share of the profits this year.”
“Okay,” Katie said thoughtfully, “then that means he really wants the farm to do well.”
“Of course he does!” Aunt Margaret put a plate in the dish rack. “But we’ve had so much bad luck lately, with the fire, and then a damaged cutter bar. Before that some cattle escaped and cost me a bundle. I only hope nothing else goes wrong.”
“Do you think the accidents have anything to do with those phone calls?”
Aunt Margaret frowned. “Phone calls? Of course not. That’s just some idiot playing a silly game. Threatening me for the fun of it. I guess they’ve got nothing better to do.” She picked up the frying pan. “At least, that’s what I thought until…” She broke off, madly scrubbing egg from the pan.
Katie dried the last plate and waited. Finally she said, “Unt
il that call last night? When he mentioned GM canola? What is it anyway?”
Aunt Margaret glanced up. “You are on top of things, aren’t you? All right then, yes, that was the first time he mentioned GMO, and it scared me. GMO stands for Genetically Modified Organisms. Basically, it means scientists take a gene from one species and implant it in the DNA of another, to create a new organism. GM canola is genetically engineered, or modified, to be resistant to herbicides.”
“Oh! You mean like superweeds?”
Aunt Margaret looked surprised. “Not exactly, although GM plants can behave like weeds. The pollen blows in the wind or is spread by insects; seeds are dropped by birds, or fly from passing trucks. Since GM canola looks like any other canola plant it can sprout up on your land without you even knowing it. If they spread into your wheat field though, or mix with other crops where you don’t want them, they are very difficult to get rid of. Only the most toxic herbicides will touch them.”
“So, you didn’t plant any GM canola?”
“No. Even though Cliff thinks it’s a good idea, I’m sticking to what Uncle Al and I decided. We thought GM crops hadn’t been tested enough and might cause all sorts of problems in the future. By then it would be too late, and GM canola would be impossible to get rid of without killing everything else too.”
“Wow, that is scary,” Katie said. “Are you afraid GM plants will take over your farm? Is that why that phone call scared you?”
“As if that’s not bad enough, my problem is even worse, Katie. You see, GM seeds are patented. That means I’d be in big trouble if any plants were found on my farm, since I didn’t pay for the seeds. And this caller threatened to phone a snitch line.”
“But that’s not fair! If you didn’t plant GM canola, it’s not your fault.”
Aunt Margaret sighed. “That doesn’t seem to matter these days, which is why so many farmers are worried. All it takes is a rumor, and someone could show up to test your crops. No one ever knows what they might find.”
