Murder Most Fowl

by Edith Maxwell

  “Good. I wonder why I didn’t hear about that. Guess because I was in court. Did the bone look human?”

  “Ruth Dodge thought it did. I’ve never seen a human ulna without skin on it. But I called because after seeing the bracelet, I thought maybe they were connected.”

  Pete nodded. “Good move.”

  “Then I went to see the stable owner where I got the manure that went into that batch of compost.” She relayed what she’d learned from Sue Genest about Fionnoula Leary, her stay with the Brennan family, and when Fionnoula disappeared. “I spent time with the microfilm in the Newburyport Library, too. I read an article that said only that Fionnoula was going out with friends that night. She would have been the same age as Paul, Wayne, and Catriona. It’s so strange. I couldn’t find anything that said she ever turned up.”

  “Who is Catriona?”

  “She’s Fionnoula’s cousin, and Fionnoula was staying with them for a year in Westbury. Now Catriona’s a fiddler in an Irish group. They were at the pub last night, and it turns out she and Paul are old friends. She made him go up and play with the band.”

  “So Wayne was probably friends with all of them, too.” Pete tapped his fingers on the table.

  “That’s what I was thinking. Albert steered me to a friend of his at Moran Manor today who was also a teacher at the high school when Fionnoula disappeared.” She told him what Nina had said about the change in Catriona.

  “Interesting.”

  “I should call Felicity and ask her about Catriona and Fionnoula, too.” Cam checked the old wall clock. “Too late tonight. She’s told me she goes to bed at about nine, and that was half an hour ago.”

  “Interesting stuff. Not sure how it bears on Wayne’s murder, but sometimes stuff from the past goes live again and affects how people act.”

  “One more thing I should tell you. I took a lasagna over to Greta yesterday. She wasn’t there, and I helped Megan with the hens and the eggs. While I was in the barn I happened to see a box of ammunition for a point four ten revolver. Or at least that’s what it said. Not that there’s anything wrong with a farmer owning a gun.”

  “You just happened to see it? This box was lying out in the open on a shelf somewhere?”

  “Well, not exactly.” She swallowed.

  Pete laughed. “I can’t keep you from detecting, can I?”

  Cam pulled a small smile. “On Sunday, Greta was trying to hide something in a tack cupboard near the stalls. She said it was the dog’s thyroid medicine but I’m not so sure it was. Since I was there, anyway, and Greta was out, I thought I’d take a look.” No need to go into more details about how many cupboards she’d checked before finding the box.

  “I’ll check out her gun ownership. Wayne wasn’t shot, so owning a gun doesn’t make her a suspect, although of course we’re looking at everyone, including the wife. Gun could have been Wayne’s, of course.”

  “Of course. Here’s something else. When Greta did come home, she blurted out that she was broke and stuck with a business she doesn’t want. And that she hates hens.”

  “Noted.”

  “I also thought it was odd that she was already back at work today,” Cam said. “I saw her leading a children’s session at the Newburyport Library.”

  “Certain people deal with their grief best when they’re working.” Pete yawned again. “And I’d like to deal with my exhaustion by sleeping. Not going to be good for much else, I’m afraid.”

  Cam covered his hand with hers. “You know I like you in my bed even when all we’re doing is sleeping.”

  Chapter 15

  Pete left at seven right as the sun peeked through the trees. Ruffles’ cries did not herald this morning, though, and the farm seemed too quiet without him. Cam stepped outside. The weather report forecast a mild, sunny day and the air smelled of growth and promise. She sat with her coffee on the back stoop, listening to cardinals chirp and flit about and busy chickadees buzz in the big maple. Returning inside, she spread a couple of pieces of toast with peanut butter, honey, and banana and ate before heading out to work, reflecting on how she had the best commute in the world.

  She let the hens out, then changed the chicks’ bedding after scooping them all up and setting them in a big cardboard box for a few minutes.

  “Cam, you in there?” Felicity’s voice rang out. “I’m here for Volunteer Wednesday.”

  “Come on in. I’m in the office.”

  Felicity popped her head in, and then said, “Ooh, look at those cuties!”

  “You didn’t see them the other day?”

  “No. They’re so sweet and soft. Can I hold one?”

  After Cam said she could, Felicity scooped up a chick and stroked its downy back. “Are these the next batch of layers?”

  “Right. They’re only a week old. I lost two on Saturday, and took them over to Wayne to ask for help. But now he’s not here anymore.” Cam tsked as she poured new pine shavings into the chicks’ usual box under the light, adding clean water and food receptacles. “Help me put them back.”

  She and Felicity lifted the chicks two at a time and set them back into their home.

  “Any news on the murder, Cam?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, give me a job. I’m here to work all morning.”

  “Thanks. Let’s go out to the hoop house.” Cam led the way out of the barn, Dasha trotting alongside.

  “Does he live here now?” Felicity asked, gesturing at the dog.

  “No. But when Pete’s working a homicide, he barely gets home, and I like having Dasha around.” She glimpsed the compost area behind the barn and stopped. “Got something I want to ask you. I was turning compost yesterday and I found a gold bracelet with the initials FL inside.”

  Felicity waited, hands in purple pants pockets.

  “When you were teaching Wayne and Paul, did you also have a Catriona Brennan in your class?”

  “Yep. Nice girl, smart. Schools are more rigorous in Ireland, so she was ahead of the rest of her class. A musician, too. Why do you ask?”

  “Did you also maybe have her cousin, Fionnoula Leary, for a while?”

  “The other Irish girl.” She stared at Cam. “I did, now that you mention it. The one who disappeared.” Felicity’s eyes went wide open. “FL. That’s it. She wore a thick gold bracelet all the time. Seemed old-fashioned to me. How in the world did you connect that bracelet with Fionnoula?”

  “A process of elimination.” She told Felicity her theory of the three ways the bracelet could have gotten into her compost, and about her talk with Sue, the stable owner. “And when I learned Fionnoula hadn’t been seen for more than thirty years, I ruled out the manure idea.”

  “But if the bracelet came in with the lobster stuff, that means it was in the ocean.”

  Cam cocked her head. “When they were in high school, were Wayne and Paul also friends with the cousins? I know Paul is friendly with Catriona now.”

  “They were a gang of four. A sweet, rowdy gang who hung out together. There might have been some flirting going on, but mainly they all seemed like friends.”

  “Until Fionnoula went missing?” Cam asked.

  “That’s right.”

  They reached the hoop house and Cam held the door open for Felicity. With today’s sunshine, it was already warm and smelled of rich, moist soil. “Did the authorities locate her? Did she ever show up?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Felicity set her fists on her hips. “But remember when you asked me what had happened to make Wayne and Paul no longer friends and I didn’t know? Now that you bring up the girls, I think it was after that. Losing Fionnoula split them apart like an ax.”

  Felicity and Cam had been starting more seeds in the hoop house for an hour when Alexandra pulled the door open.

  “Am I too late? I have muffins.” With a sheepish smile she held up a paper bag in one hand. In her other hand was a cardboard tray holding three paper cups with lids.

  “I’m ready for
a break. You?” Cam asked Felicity. “It’s never too late for muffins, especially if you made them, Alexandra.”

  “Whole wheat carrot cinnamon,” the tall young woman said. “The storage carrots are getting pretty old. Thought I’d grate them up and bring breakfast. Including coffee.”

  “Then it’s definitely time for a break.” Cam upended a yellow plastic crate, then pulled two more into a circle before heading to the hose to rinse her hands. Felicity followed suit.

  After they were seated, Alexandra distributed coffees and muffins. “All have milk and sugar. Seemed easier that way.” She shrugged. “Farming burns up the calories, right, Cam?”

  Cam nodded with her mouth full.

  “Superb, Alexandra,” Felicity said a minute later, after swallowing a bite of muffin.

  “Hey, I stopped to say hi to the chickens on my way out here. I didn’t see Ruffles around. Where is he?” Alexandra asked.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Felicity asked. “Like he ran away?” She brushed a speck of carrot off her cheek.

  “No. Yesterday afternoon, almost evening, he was outside the fence and he’d caught a fox kit. Had his talons right into the little thing. But then the kit’s mother streaked out from the woods and broke old Ruffles’ neck in her jaws. I saw the whole thing.”

  “Whoa,” Alexandra said. “I guess he had it coming to him. Was the kit okay?”

  “Yeah. The mom made sure it was, and then took Ruffles back to their den with them. Rooster Tartare for dinner.”

  “Were you scared of the vixen?” Felicity asked. “They can be ruthless.”

  “A little. Dasha was with me, and luckily he only watched, too. I wouldn’t have wanted to see him and the fox fight.”

  “Remember this winter when Ruffles came racing in the barn’s cat door after Preston?” Felicity started to giggle.

  “What I remember is him chasing me down the driveway and getting his talons into my leg for a minute,” Cam said. Her laugh turned into a snort.

  “And seeing him, um, fertilize the girls was really something.” Alexandra added her own giggle. “He was such a stud.”

  “A real man’s man. Ah.” Felicity smiled. “This is fun. I didn’t know we were going to have a wake for Ruffles.”

  Cam held up her coffee. “Here’s to Ruffles. May he rest in peace.”

  “To Ruffles!” Felicity and Alexandra held up their cups, too.

  Cam popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth and savored the moist spiced crumb. She brushed her hand off on her work jeans. “How’s Katie doing?” she asked Alexandra.

  The smile slid off Alexandra’s face. “She went back to class, but she’s way upset about everything that went down. Getting sucked in by that group, and then suspected by the cops. I know she didn’t do anything wrong, other than throw red paint on the Laitinens’ barn. She’s not that resilient of a person, though. She still seems really shook up.”

  “Did she tell you what exactly she saw that morning when she went back?” Cam asked.

  Alexandra gazed down the rows of six-inch-high greens for a moment, then back at Cam. “She said she drove over there to apologize to Mr. Laitinen. She saw that chemical guy—”

  “Paul Underwood?” Cam asked.

  “Yeah. She saw him getting out of his car at the house. She said when he saw her he looked angry, so she turned around and went home.”

  “She didn’t talk to him?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “That seems pretty straightforward, then.” Felicity looked from Alexandra to Cam. “Right? What can the police—or it’s the staties, so Detective Pappas, right?”

  “Right,” Cam said.

  “What can he think Katie did?” Felicity continued. “Went over there and killed Wayne?”

  “I don’t know. He isn’t supposed to talk with me about it, anyway. Do you think she’s hiding something, Alexandra? Something she’s not telling?”

  “She could be. I’ll see if I can get more out of her tonight.”

  Cam finished her last sip of coffee and stood. “Thanks for the muffins, Alexandra. Time to burn off those calories, girls.” She had darkened their light mood by asking about Katie, and wished she hadn’t. But she had a working farm to run, murder or no murder. And it was time for farming, not detecting.

  The door to the hoop house swung open, and a tall man filled the doorway. “Am I in the right place?” he asked.

  “This is Attic Hill Farm. Come on in and close the door,” Cam said.

  “I heard you take volunteers on Wednesday.” He shut the door behind him and sauntered toward Cam in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with a U Mass logo, a black scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked about Alexandra’s or Katie’s age: midtwenties, clean shaven, with short dark hair and a wide smile that flashed perfect white teeth.

  “Hey, Tam.” Alexandra stood. “Cam, this is Tam Haskell. He’s a friend of Katie’s. Tam, Cam Flaherty, farmer in chief, and this is our friend Felicity Slavin.”

  “Very nice to meet you both,” he said, extending his hand first to Felicity and then to Cam.

  Cam shook his hand. “Always happy to have more help. So Katie told you about our Wednesdays?”

  He bounced on his heels. “I’m really interested in learning more about organic farming. And helping with your hens, too. I’m thinking of getting a few chickens for my backyard, and I’d love to learn how you manage them.” He gave Cam the attentive gaze of a serious student.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Tam’s an interesting name,” Felicity said.

  “Short for Tamlin. Old family name my parents stuck me with.” He lifted one eyebrow.

  “Got it. Come on.” Cam beckoned. “I’ll show you how to change the chickens’ bedding. It’s overdue. Felicity, can you show Alexandra what we were working on?”

  At Felicity’s nod, Cam led Tam out and toward the coop. “I have about forty hens now, but another couple dozen chicks are in the barn.”

  “Can I see them, too?”

  “Sure. So what do you do for work, Tam?” she asked as they walked.

  “I’m a student like Katie, studying political science. But I don’t have classes on Wednesdays.”

  “Are you in grad school?”

  “No, still getting my undergrad degree. I took a few years off to travel.” As they neared the barn, he said, “Just look at that beautiful door.”

  Cam slid open the barn door and made her way to the office. The chicks seemed to have grown even more. “Here are the babies.” She turned when Tam didn’t reply, but he wasn’t behind her. She poked her head out the office door to see him lingering at the wide door, one hand on the latch. “Tam?”

  He turned, then strode toward her. “I’d love to photograph your barn someday.”

  By the time Alexandra, Felicity, and Tam left, a few minutes after noon, they’d had a productive morning. The seeding was all done, and Tam had completely mucked out the coop and spread fresh bedding on the floor without a word of complaint at the smell. Cam might have to hire a part-time worker when the season ratcheted up to full gear come summer, but for now, a few congenial and competent workers who were happy to help out was all she needed. And it had taken her mind off murder, even if all that socializing over work had the capacity to drain her. Silence was a huge blessing.

  The end of the week was looming for Pete, though. How else could she help him? Helping him would be helping Megan, too, and Cam had promised her she would. She’d told Pete everything she’d learned. Well, except for Felicity saying it was Fionnoula’s disappearance that had split up the group of friends. And she wasn’t sure that was even related to the murder. But it might be. She pulled out her phone and texted Pete about it, then sank onto the bench outside the barn and closed her eyes. She soaked up the welcome warmth of the sunshine. Spring was almost officially here, and summer heat was guaranteed to follow. For now? She could sit here all day.

  Dasha had other ideas.
He pushed his muzzle into Cam’s knee. She opened an eye to see him sitting up watching her. When she opened both eyes, he barked.

  “Want to go for a real walk, big guy?” Cam smiled at him as she stood. It was too nice a day to waste it sitting on a bench. And the company of a quiet, agreeable dog was as restorative to an introvert like her as being alone.

  She grabbed an apple and a hunk of cheddar cheese from the house, along with Dasha’s leash. Fifteen minutes later she and the dog strolled out across the meadow at Maudslay State Park, a large former private estate right over the border into Newburyport. Riding trails and walking paths wound through wooded hills and open meadows, with miles of rhododendron planted on either side. One trail ran through a huge stand of mountain laurel, and another presented breathtaking views as it curved high above the Merrimack River. None of the flowers were blooming yet, of course, but it was a perfect day for a long thinking walk. Cam had cross-country skied here in the winter, an easier experience than in her own woods because someone had always been along the Maudslay routes breaking trail before she arrived. And a change of scenery was always a good thing.

  As Dasha trotted along at her side, Cam mused on how she’d be glad for more than one reason once this murder was solved. She wanted to get back to that easy pattern she and Pete had fallen into. His work as a detective consisted of investigating any unattended or suspicious death. Often the unattended deaths were simply elderly people who died alone and Pete’s became a regular day job like anyone else’s, with time in the evenings and on weekends for Cam. But during a murder investigation, routine went out the window.

  She led Dasha through the woods and headed up the Castle Hill loop for an aerobic workout, something she rarely got unless she was skiing. Daily farm work was exercise, but it was more in the drudge category than the uplifting get-your-heart-rate-up sort. A horse whinnied somewhere in the distance and a black-and-white woodpecker rapped at the trunk of a tall fir just ahead. Dasha looked like he was enjoying the walk as much as she was, his tongue out and his focus on the narrow trail. She was tempted to disconnect his leash, but he didn’t seem to mind it, and the posted rules said all dogs were to be leashed, curbed, and cleaned up after.