Maple Mayhem (A Sugar Grove Mystery)

by Jessie Crockett

  “I could have but I had some business at the post office anyway and I never pass up a chance for breakfast at the Stack.”

  “Your timing is pretty good, too. I asked Piper if she thought Dean could have sabotaged his own trees like you suggested and she said he might have done it.”

  “What’s that got to do with my timing?” Loden looked like he was holding his breath.

  “If she was in love with the guy, she wouldn’t have said that. Dean’s days as Piper’s latest are numbered. I guarantee it.”

  “Maybe he’s responsible for what happened at the Shaws’, too. If he is, he’ll go to jail for sure.”

  “Don’t count on that working against him. Piper has a thing for bad boys.”

  “I know she does.” Loden’s shoulders sagged and he tapped his forehead with the laminated menu like he was trying to knock some sense into himself.

  “She likes them, but she doesn’t respect them in the long run. Patience and good character are your best strategies.”

  “And a sense of urgency is yours. You’d better get yourself over to the Shaws’ before it gets any later or you’ll have to explain things to two irritated old men instead of one.”

  “Kenneth and who else?”

  “Grampa.”

  Fifteen

  I crunched onto the Shaws’ perfectly groomed gravel drive just five minutes later. It always felt like I was walking with muddy shoes across a white carpet when I drove onto their driveway. Or like I was deliberately messing up a Zen gravel garden. I could just feel a monk with a rake shaking his smooth head sadly at me with each rotation of the wheels.

  Kenneth paced on the front porch. I unhooked my seat belt, a feeling of dread spreading from my stomach high up into my throat and down into my legs. Kenneth kept up his strolling vigil even as I crossed the dooryard. He looked good pacing, kind of presidential. If anyone could pull off looking good in a crisis it was Kenneth. I just wished I were hearing about it from a third party instead of finding myself in the middle of it.

  I pressed on the Clunker’s door and it was so heavy it shut itself with a banging that sounded angry when I never intended it. Kenneth stopped pacing and stuck his hands in his pants pockets. I hope he didn’t feel chided. But I wasn’t going to call attention to my puny arm muscles. Grampa always said they were about as big as a sparrow’s instep. I got to be at least ten before I realized I was being insulted.

  “Come on back to the sugarhouse,” Kenneth said. That was it. No How are you, Dani? How’s the family, Dani? For such a well-mannered man he was surprisingly abrupt. I followed his hurriedly retreating back. His long legs outdistanced me quickly and I found myself breaking into a jog to keep up.

  The Shaws’ sugarhouse was a lot like ours as far as function but very different as far as technology. The Shaw family had been sugaring for at least as long as the Greenes but where we were moving toward modern techniques and equipment the Shaws preferred to preserve the traditions of the past. Where we had a gift shop with hopes of expansion, they had a maple museum and a gallery of art and photographs documenting sugaring in New Hampshire through the ages.

  “This is why I called your grandfather.” Kenneth pushed open the door and held it for me. I looked around the room but saw nothing suspicious.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” I could see from the way he rocked up onto the balls of his feet then crashed back down on his heels that he was feeling agitated and impatient but there was little I could do to help until he made things clearer.

  “The museum.” He pointed at the doorway between the main room holding the evaporator and the museum room. On the floor there was a steaming bucket full of suds. “Follow me.” He raced across the room, leaving me to scurry after him. On the walls, where the photos and paintings used to hang, there were blank spaces and graffiti. Where a variety of buckets, spiles, and other sugaring paraphernalia normally hung or sat shelved there was nothing to see but sloppy scrawl.

  I gasped, so startled to see the glossy wood walls marred by red paint. The Shaws’ place was one of the most popular stops on the annual New Hampshire Maple Weekend open sugarhouses tour. One of the reasons was its cleanliness and pristine order. Kenneth supervised every aspect of the business himself. As the chairman of the select board, he had a standard to uphold and he did it without fail.

  I stepped closer to the wall to get a better look at the writing but it really wasn’t necessary. Even from considerable distance it was clear to see the nasty message.

  “Cooperatives are for communists. This won’t be tolerated in Sugar Grove. Pictures of your trees are missing. Join the cooperative and your trees will be next.” I read aloud. “What sort of crazy nonsense is this?” I felt even worse now that I knew what the problem entailed. All I wanted was to help out the local producers, not stir something like this up from the bottom of the mud puddle. I regretted ever trying to get the cooperative going.

  “The artwork is irreplaceable. The photos can be reprinted but it will cost me a lot of time as well as money to find the right negatives, get them developed and then framed and rehung. And I can’t even begin to think about the wooden sap buckets and the tools passed down for generations of Shaws. It just breaks my heart.” Kenneth hung his head like a small boy. I couldn’t help but feel it was all my fault even though I knew the cooperative was a great idea and that I had nothing to do with what had happened here today.

  “When did you discover this?” I asked, wondering if either Frank or Dean could be involved.

  “This morning, after breakfast. I got home from my morning walk, had a bite to eat with Nicole and then came out here to do a bit of paperwork. And this is what I found. This awful mess.”

  “Did you find anything to give you some idea who did it?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to have a suspect or not.

  “Well, no. I didn’t find a thing. I don’t like to toss around names without proof but it seems like the most likely person to have done this was Frank.” Kenneth’s face was flushing red. I wondered if he was going to have some sort of coronary incident. I slipped my hand into my pocket to feel for my cell phone. If he started clutching his chest I wanted to be able to get someone here quickly. Although Kenneth’s chances of getting some help from Bob Sterling might not be all that great if I phoned in a distress call.

  “Frank’s the only one who has said he wasn’t happy with the co-op but I don’t think he did this.”

  “No one else comes to mind. It had to be Frank.” He stopped stomping around and looked me straight in the face. I gulped under his gaze. It suddenly occurred to me Kenneth must not have heard about Frank’s murder. I was starting to feel like the angel of death with all the bad news I was spreading around the community.

  “When was the last time you were in here?”

  “Yesterday morning. I came in to check on things before church. Does it matter?”

  “It would help pinpoint where people were when the damage occurred in order to figure out who could have done it.”

  “I can’t say for certain. Like I said, I found it this morning.”

  “Depending on when it happened it might have been impossible for Frank to be responsible.”

  “I don’t see how you can be so sure.” Kenneth crossed his plaid shirt clad arms over his chest and widened his stance. He looked like he was trying to convince me I was wrong through stern body language. Fortunately for me, I did know exactly what I was talking about.

  “I found his body in his own sugarhouse yesterday afternoon.” Kenneth unfolded his arms and opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air in the top of a dirty aquarium.

  “What was it? A heart attack or a stroke? Something like that?”

  “The police are treating it as a homicide.”

  “Hardly surprising considering what a disagreeable man he was but in any case that does seem to rule him out as the
person who did this.” Kenneth gazed around the room. “Why wasn’t I told before now?” As a seated selectman as well as someone who volunteered for as many things as a member of my family, Kenneth was usually among the first to know about everything and anything that happened in town. Being out of the loop must have been almost as startling to him as hearing that Frank had been murdered.

  “I expect Mitch has his hands full with the investigation. Lowell is out of town, remember? I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it on the scanner though.” The Shaws, like so many other people in town keep a scanner on most of the time. Anything they don’t hear from a reliable local gossip they catch from the scanner. Accurate information is a form of currency around here and the Shaws are one of the wealthiest families in town.

  “I expect you’re right and I’m afraid the vandalism here, no matter how upsetting it is to me personally, won’t end up being much of a priority.”

  “Tansey had some trouble herself before I found Frank’s body and Mitch dropped by to look at things then. But, with Frank’s murder I am sure he won’t be bothering now. I think it will be up to us to get to the bottom of this ourselves.”

  “But I can’t think of anyone besides Frank who would want to do something like this. Can you?”

  “Didn’t you have some trouble with Russ Collins a month or so ago?” It had been big news all over town and could easily explain the vandalism if Russ was the sort to follow through on a threat.

  “There was a bit of a dustup. He was supposed to be refinishing all the downstairs floors.”

  “I heard there was a disagreement about speed.”

  “The disagreement was because there was no speed. None at all. That man couldn’t be bothered to break into a trot if the devil was standing behind him with an electrified pitchfork.”

  “Did you fire him?”

  “What else could I do? He did a poor job sanding the hall and made an even worse start on the living room. He left all his tools, equipment, and mess lying around our house for a month and a half. Finally, I tossed everything onto the back porch and told him we got someone else to do the job.”

  “So maybe he did this?” I looked around wondering if there was any way Russ would have found the energy to make off with so much stuff.

  “Not a chance. He wouldn’t have been able to muster the oomph for a job this big. The man took over a week to come get his own tools. I don’t think he would have snuck into my sugarhouse to steal all of mine.”

  “Anyone else you had a dispute with recently?”

  “No one comes to mind.” I racked my brain for someone else, anyone else who would be interested in damaging Kenneth’s property. Maybe it wasn’t related to the cooperative. Maybe someone was just using that as an excuse to do the Shaws’ operation some harm. I knew there was a bit of envy and tension where the Shaws were concerned. There always was with prominent, successful people. I decided to risk agitating him even more by asking about that.

  “Was there any reason someone would want to do this to you and throw suspicion away from themselves by blaming the cooperative? Has anyone threatened you or caused damage here before?” My voice cracked like a fourteen-year-old boy.

  “No. Of course not. We mind our own business and pitch in with what needs doing in the community. Everybody loves us. This is about the cooperative. It says so in screaming red paint.”

  “The message does seem clear but I think it would be best to explore all angles before accusing anybody.”

  “I’m not planning on accusing anybody. I want you to do it. This is all your fault, make no mistake. I wondered if this wasn’t a too-good-to-be-true situation and it looks like I was right.”

  “I was only trying to help.” My voice cracked again and my stomach felt sick at the thought of being on the wrong side of Kenneth.

  “Now you have the chance to really be helpful by calling off the whole cooperative idea. It may not have been as good as you thought in the first place.”

  “Stop the cooperative? You’ve got to be kidding. It will save so much money for everyone involved.”

  “Whoever did this is threatening my trees. You, of all people, understand what that means.” Kenneth got even redder. He started rubbing one hand against the other.

  “I can’t stop the cooperative without talking to the rest of the people who want to join. I think people will have to decide for themselves if they want to continue to participate or not.”

  “I am sorry to tell you this Dani but I am going to withdraw myself and encourage others to do so too before something even worse happens to my property.” Kenneth had the same look on his face he always wore just before bringing down his gavel at a rowdy select board meeting.

  “I understand. You have to do what you think is best for your business. But I hope you will give me a little time to try to get to the bottom of this before you start discouraging others from participating. I promise to see if I can figure this all out before anything else happens.”

  “And how do you propose to do that? Mitch’s got his hands full with investigating what happened to Frank and last I heard you weren’t exactly in a position to ask him for any favors anyway.”

  “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can tell you. If that isn’t good enough for you, there isn’t anything else I can say.” I looked up at him, my best tough business look on my face. Maybe he would back down if I just didn’t show any fear.

  “I’m sorry, Dani, but I just can’t risk waiting until an amateur gets to the bottom of a crime. I am pulling out and will be advising everyone else to do the same.” He shook his head slowly back and forth, staring at the wall in front of him. I just didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t offer comfort for his loss and I wouldn’t back down from my plans for the cooperative. I decided the only thing to do was to find the saboteur and Kenneth’s missing items. If Loden was right, it might even lead to the killer.

  * * *

  After my discouraging conversation with Kenneth I was looking for someone to blame. I thought automatically of Russ Collins and Dean. I know I thought of Dean because Loden had already suggested him. I’m not proud to admit it but I thought of Russ because I didn’t like him. I felt like a bad human hoping a family man might be a criminal but I didn’t think from the looks of things around his property it was likely it would make much practical difference if he spent time away in jail. After all, from the disheveled state of his driveway he wasn’t doing much work around the house.

  I knocked on the door at the Collins’s place but no one came to answer it. Mindy’s minivan wasn’t in the drive but Russ’s sedan was sitting there, snow still pressed up against it from the last storm. I wondered if he was just too lazy to come to the door. I banged again slightly harder and then pressed my face against the glass hoping I might see something to let me know if he was actually home.

  I heard a voice calling faintly from somewhere in the house and I took that as a sign to let myself in. After all, the Collins family only had cats, no dogs. After the terrors of Beau I thought it unlikely I was going to be intimidated by a tabby. As I entered the hallway littered with shoes and backpacks I heard the voice call out again.

  “I’m in here but I’m not getting up.” I followed the sound and ended up in the cluttered living room. Russ lay stretched on the couch, the remote in his hand, a bowl of what smelled like barbecue-flavored chips perched on his stomach. “Dani, what a surprise. Did you forget something after the campout?”

  “No. Actually, I wanted to ask you about getting a quote for a job we need done up at Greener Pastures.” I noticed Russ scootching up just a bit, like he had forgotten his back trouble.

  “What kind of a job?”

  “I’m thinking of expanding to add a screened porch to the sugarhouse shop so we can serve afternoon tea in the summer. I thought of you immediately.” Which wasn’t true. I had thought of Wesley Farnum, the ma
ster builder the Greene family had trusted with everything for years but telling him that wasn’t going to help get the answers I wanted about the vandalism at Kenneth Shaw’s.

  “Sounds like a good-sized job. When were you thinking of starting it?” Russ forgot his back a little more as he turned a bit to look at me.

  “That will depend on the weather of course. It would be an outside job after all. So the snow will be a factor.”

  “And frozen ground.”

  “And you’ll be too busy with the sugaring this year to mess around with a building project. So after the sugaring season is over, I’d say.”

  “Of course.”

  “So are you interested?”

  “Of course I’m interested. A man has to provide for his family, doesn’t he?” Russ dug into the bowl of chips and stuffed a handful into his mouth.

  “I hate to do this but I’ll need to ask for references.”

  “But you know me.” He was right about that. I knew he wasn’t likely to get any good ones from anyone in town but after filling in for him on Saturday night at the Squirrel Squad campout it was a pleasure to watch him squirm. Besides, how better to introduce the dispute with Kenneth and the possible vandalism.

  “Of course I do, but it’s a matter of evenhandedness. In a small town like Sugar Grove it’s easy for people to get hurt feelings, especially where business is concerned. I always ask everyone so no one can be offended.”

  “How big a job did you say it would be?” Russ popped some more chips in his mouth and ground them around with his mouth hanging open.

  “I was thinking maybe eight hundred square feet, possibly a bit bigger. And we’ll need steps, railing, and garden beds built in along the front to blend it in with the surroundings. Visual appeal is a big part of the success factor for this type of venture.” Unfortunately I could almost see the spit forming in his open mouth as the numbers he was adding up in his head were making it water.

  “I guess I could rustle up a few references. It sounds like the project could be worth my while.”