Deadly Row to Hoe

by Cricket McRae

  “She’d had a hard night. Maybe she was just lashing out,” Meghan said.

  “Whatever.” At least Erin didn’t seem fazed by the criticism.

  I swallowed a bite of bacon. “Bug, how did Clarissa know Hallie was outside? Was she watching for her?”

  “I told you—I was asleep. But I bet her aunt texted her on her cell phone.” She shot a look at her mother. “Clarissa told me they did that all the time.”

  “Was she texting before you guys went to sleep?”

  “I don’t know. Her phone made a noise once.”

  “What did it sound like?”

  “Kind of a little doink doink.”

  That might have been the sound I’d heard. But if Hallie was already in contact with Clarissa, why did she go to all the trouble to drive to our house unless she really did want her niece to go with her?

  “So where’s my bike?” Erin asked. “Mom said you wrecked it.”

  “Yeah, the frame’s all bent up. I’m sorry, Bug, I really am. I’ll get you a brand new one, okay?”

  “Okay!”

  “I bet the old one can be fixed,” Meghan said, sounding cheerful as all get out.

  “No, I want to get her a new one,” I said. Why was my housemate grinning like that? Something was up.

  Squinting, I asked, “What were you two whispering about when I came in?”

  A big grin split Erin’s face, all thought of Clarissa and her boundary issues forgotten. “Show her, Mom.”

  “Show me what, Mom?” I asked.

  Meghan’s face held quiet pleasure. She held out her hand.

  It took a moment for the ring to register. When it did, I sank carefully onto the edge of a chair opposite her and took her hand in mine to examine it more closely. It was a deep blue sapphire in an antique platinum setting. The style and colors were so perfectly Meghan the ring could have sprouted right out of her finger.

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “Last night. After we—” She glanced at Erin. “After everyone went to bed.”

  “I thought you … I’m confused.”

  “Kelly asked me to marry him last night. He’d been waiting until the ring was done. He designed it himself.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I laughed. “That’s fabulous! Oh, honey, I’m so thrilled for you. Talk about two people who think alike.”

  She grinned at me, and I grinned back, and then we both grinned at Erin for a while.

  “Have you set a date?” I asked.

  “We’re going to Vegas in two weeks.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Erin’s going to come with us, and we want you and Barr to come, too. Can Cyan take care of Winding Road?”

  “Um, I guess so. Let me check in with her. After all, school will be starting some time in there. Why the hurry?” And as the last words came out, my eyes widened in question.

  My housemate waved away the notion. “Nothing like that. We just want to get going with our lives. Plus, I saw what happens if you wait. My mother would swoop down on us and then Kelly’s would get involved. She’s nice, really, but a bit domineering, if you know what I mean.”

  “More than my mother?”

  “Maybe not. But we’re not taking any chances. And as for school, we’ll be back before then. Bug, you’re going to have to have Zoe show your chickens at the Fair, or wait until next year. Is that okay?”

  Erin nodded. “Next year is fine. Can I wear another pretty dress like I did at Sophie Mae’s wedding?”

  “Of course.”

  Her comment made me think of Clarissa again. “Do you like girly girl dresses?”

  Erin looked coy as one shoulder rose and dropped. “Sometimes. But mostly I want to look nice for Mom and Kelly.”

  No matter how much she rebelled, that kid loved her mother to pieces.

  Twenty-eight

  “How’re you feeling, hon?” The words were right, but Barr sounded distracted.

  “A little tired, but I’m okay. It looks like I missed your call?” I’d been up in our bathroom, icing my coccyx and then applying another layer of arnica salve when he’d telephoned. That stuff was already working wonders on my hip bruise. Now I was down in my workroom, making sure everything was in order before I took off for the farm. Cyan and Kalie had the day off because they’d be working the Thursday evening farmers market later.

  “Right. Just wanted to let you know the hospital called. Nate’s coming around.”

  Relief gusted through me, and I sagged against the wall. “That’s terrific! Has he said anything you can use yet?”

  “It sounds like he’s still kind of out of it. Confused. Sergeant Zahn and I will go talk to him in a few hours.”

  “Not now?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  “He’s not quite lucid yet, so it wouldn’t do much good to question him now. Plus we’ve got another interview to get through.”

  “Oh, dear. You don’t sound very happy about that.”

  “Remember the guy I told you about who had some sketchy work history? Zahn checked into it. He was working undercover for a couple of years in Albuquerque. The sergeant really likes him, so he wants us both to talk to him again.”

  “Zahn likes him—but you don’t, necessarily?”

  “He’s … I shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you should.”

  “Believe me, you’ll get an earful if anything pans out from this.”

  I let it go. “What about Hallie? Does she know Nate’s awake?”

  “We haven’t told her, but she does keep asking about him. At least she’s not going anywhere for a while. If we have to, we’ll charge her with something. Anything.”

  “Erin thinks Hallie was texting Clarissa last night.”

  “Really … yeah, we might be able to do something with that.” He paused, then I heard him say, “I’m on my way,” to someone else. “I’ve got to go, hon. Talk to you later, okay?”

  I hesitated. Should I tell him I was going out to Turner Farm?

  “Love you,” he said. “’Bye.” He hung up.

  That answered that.

  I went back upstairs to where I’d left my tote on the bench by the front door. The torn piece of paper where Daphne had scribbled her cell number was tucked into a side pocket. I punched the numbers in as I returned to my workroom.

  She answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Daphne. It’s Sophie Mae. How are you holding up?”

  “Much better now. Nate’s awake!” Then I heard her whisper, “It’s Sophie Mae.”

  “Barr told me. That’s great news. Is Faith there with you?”

  “We’ve been here all night. Now that Nate’s better, I think we might go to my house and get some sleep. Come back later in the afternoon.”

  “So he’s going to be okay?”

  “It will take some time for him to recover completely, but the doctors are very pleased. They’ve moved him out of the ICU.”

  “Excellent. Is there still an officer there?”

  “How did you—oh, of course. Barr told you. Officer Dawson went home this morning.”

  That could be because Hallie was no longer a threat. It could also simply be because the department wasn’t big enough to provide a full-time guard for Nate.

  “I don’t suppose he’s said anything about his attacker?” Couldn’t hurt to ask.

  She hesitated. “No, he hasn’t. He doesn’t remember.”

  “Barr mentioned that he’s still a little confused.”

  Another pause. “He’s not confused so much as he has a blank spot.”

  “Blank spot?”

  “In his memory. Nate doesn’t understand why he’s in the hospital at all. See, he doesn’t remember being attacked at all. The last thing he remembers is being in his trailer.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “It shouldn’t last, though,” she hurried to reassure me. “The neurologist says he’s seen this before. Over time Nate’s memory sho
uld come back.”

  I urged her to get some sleep and hung up.

  Over time? How much time?

  _____

  Erin’s voice drifted through my workroom window. Zoe had agreed to take care of the hens while we were in Las Vegas, and Erin was conducting Chickens 101 out in the backyard. Meghan sat on a stool at the main work island while I stood and mixed up a batch of massage oil scented with cedarwood and clove essential oils. The combination made me think of the coming fall and the holidays beyond that.

  “Of course I’m going to the farm this morning,” I said. “Tom and Allie need the help.”

  “They’ll understand if you can’t come. You were up all night trying to protect their daughter, after all.”

  “Oh, gosh, Megs. They could lose that place because of Darla Klick’s murder. The farm’s associated with violence and death now. Yesterday’s volunteers canceled on them, and this is the busiest time of the season. I just can’t let them down.”

  “Okay, then let me go in your place,” Meghan said.

  “Don’t you have clients today?” I measured out a teaspoon of clove oil and added it to the cedarwood already in the bottle.

  “I can cancel.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “Stay home and take care of yourself,” she insisted.

  “You are not going to lose business on my account.”

  “You just can’t stand the thought of not doing something. Fine. Stay down here and make soap or something. Boss Cyan and Kalie around for a while. But working in the field is too much.”

  “Listen. I know you have my best interests at heart. I do. And I appreciate that. My so-called injuries are a pain in the patootie, literally, but they’re not anything serious.”

  Her frown lines deepened with worry.

  “Besides, there’s no one to boss. The girls have the day off.” Using a funnel, I filled the rest of the bottle with jojoba oil.

  “Hallie could be back home by now. She’s already hurt you twice. I do not want you to go out there. If you insist, I’ll call Barr.”

  “You’ll … are you kidding me?” I spluttered. It was like threatening to tell my father. “Well, go ahead. And he’ll tell you Nate woke up this morning, and they’re still holding Hallie at the station.”

  Her eyes widened. “Nate identified her?”

  “Well, not exactly. He’s having some problems with his memory. Should be temporary, though.”

  The frown returned.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Do what you want.” She slid off the stool. “You always do anyway. But I have a bad feeling. I can’t tell you why, but I do. I wish you’d listen to me once in a while.” And my best friend stomped upstairs.

  I stared after her. Meghan didn’t get her “feelings” very often, but when she did something was usually off.

  Off, but not necessarily dangerous. Hallie was still in the holding cell at the police station. Nate was getting better. The Turners desperately needed some help. And it wasn’t like I’d be working alone.

  No, I wouldn’t. I’d make sure of that. Whatever Tom needed us to do today, Bette and I would do it together.

  _____

  “You stay here and be a good boy.” Bette’s braid swung over her shoulder as she bent down and stroked the big dog’s head. He grinned up at her, panting his agreement. She scratched him one last time behind the ears before shutting the gate and striding out to the street.

  “Alexander is always a good boy,” I said as she folded her tall form into the Rover’s passenger seat. At least the clay spatter on her hiking pants and tank top seemed to be dry. “I don’t know that I’ve ever known such a well-trained dog.”

  She gazed fondly out the open window. He stood by the front gate, faithfully awaiting his mistress’ return. “I’d like to bring him out to the farm, but I’m afraid he’ll chase the chickens.” She fastened her seat belt and leaned back.

  “True.” I laughed. “That kind of self-control might be asking a bit too much of him.” I pulled away from the curb and made a U-turn south.

  “Oh, he could learn. Alex is awfully smart, and he aims to please.”

  “I saw you out walking him last night.” I might as well be the one to bring up the early morning hours.

  “Hmm. I have periods of insomnia. I saw you out and about, too.” Her eyes cut my way.

  Taking a deep breath, I told her about both of Hallie’s visits to our house, explaining how I didn’t want her to get away again and leaving out the reason for the soft pillow installed under my posterior. If I leaned a wee bit to the left, away from my sore hip, driving was manageable if not pleasant. She listened to my tale with a growing expression of astonishment.

  “You chased her on your bike?”

  “Erin’s bike, actually. And not so much chase as … track, I guess. Unfortunately, she panicked when she saw the cop car and kind of ran me off the road.”

  “Oh, Sophie Mae, you could have been really hurt.”

  I shifted on the pillow. “I’m fine. She didn’t hit me with the car or anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was just trying to get away.” Again.

  “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  I glanced at her, expecting her to be smiling, but her face was solemn as a nun’s. So I simply nodded and left it at that. “She’s in custody now.”

  “They arrested her?”

  “Not yet. They could probably come up with some charges, but for now they can keep her there while they wait.”

  She looked confused.

  “See, it’s possible she’s responsible for the attacks at the farm. Nate should be able to tell us soon.” I hoped. “Since she’s scampered before, they want to keep an eye on her until they find out what he has to say.”

  “So … there’s good news about Nate?” she asked.

  “Yes! Really good news. He’s awake now. A little off kilter still, but conscious.”

  She tipped her head to one side. “He’s going to be okay, then.”

  “It sounds like it. The doctors are happy with his progress. It was touch and go there for a while.”

  Bette faced forward again and nodded. “That’s great. His family must be so relieved.”

  “I met his mother yesterday. She told me a bit about Nate’s background. Did you know he was raised in a commune up on Camano Island? Faith—that’s his mom’s name—was one of the original founders.”

  “Commune? How very seventies. Has he told the police who hit him?”

  “Not yet. I spoke to Daphne this morning, and she told me he’s having some memory problems. But the doctors say that should get better. There’s been an officer there all night.” I didn’t mention that was for protection as much as anything.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her shoulders lower as if she could finally relax. Like everyone else, she’d been nervous about working at the farm today. At least she’d had the guts to go anyway. If only Nate would hurry up and remember, we’d soon know the truth about what happened to him—and maybe to Darla Klick as well. At least Hallie wasn’t running around loose. Yet.

  Twenty-nine

  Tom came out to meet us when I pulled into the gravel lot at the farm, looking harried and tired. Even his overalls, hanging limply on his lanky frame, appeared exhausted.

  “Thank God you two showed up,” he said. “No one would come out yesterday, and the guys scheduled for tomorrow just called and bailed on us. With Nate in the hospital, I’m short handed as it is.” He ran his palm over his face. “Sorry. That must sound pretty insensitive. I only meant—”

  I held up my hand. “We know what you meant. I talked to Daphne this morning, and she said he’s doing a lot better. They’ve moved him out of the ICU.”

  We exchanged a long look, but neither of us brought up his sister-in-law. Bette, standing with her hands on her hips and looking toward the pumpkin patch, didn’t seem to notice.

  “I spoke briefly with him on the phone,” Tom said. “He still sounds
groggy, but thank the good Lord he’s going to be all right. He’s a good guy, you know?”

  Bette and I murmured our agreement.

  “Okay, then,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “There’s a pile of things to do. Why don’t you start with harvesting green beans—they’ll be too big if we wait for distribution day and will stay fresh in the cooler—and then the cucumbers. Same thing. The pickling cukes are priority, because if they get too big, no one will be able to use them.”

  Bette’s nod was brisk, the picture of efficiency. “You’ve got it. We’ll check in when we’re done to see what else you have for us

  to do.”

  We loaded bushel baskets into the back of the second yard cart. The other one was still out where I’d found Nate the day before, no doubt covered with crows feasting on popcorn. I added a folding step stool since I wasn’t as tall as Bette, and we rattled down the path toward the towering bean teepees. We went through the gate that separated the rows of vegetables from fowl and swine and trundled past the herb bed. The oregano and basil had begun to flower, and the plants were crawling with happy bees. Their low drone whispered behind us as we continued on.

  Down the hill, near the farm house, Allie worked at her large potting bench, transplanting what I guessed were fall starts of broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, and the like. She didn’t look up, and her hands flew. Everything needed to be done in a hurry right now or it wouldn’t get done at all. I was happy to see Clarissa appeared to be helping her mother.

  We passed by the raspberry canes. Weeds crawled beneath, and ripe berries begged to be plucked and eaten. I couldn’t bear the thought of those raspberries going to waste. As we continued on, my companion eyed the yellow tape that still festooned the popcorn field. She didn’t say anything, so I didn’t either.

  At the end of the row of bean poles we stopped, and I craned my neck back. “Oh, boy. Look at all those. We might be here for a while.” The forty-foot row of pyramidal structures was seven feet high in places, and absolutely covered with the clinging vines of heirloom pole beans—a variety amusingly called Lazy Wife because they were stringless.

  Bette’s lips curved into a smile as she closed her eyes and tipped her face to the sky. “That’s okay. It’s a glorious day. There won’t be many more of them.”