The Nut Case

by Rayna Morgan

  “Sounds cramped.”

  “It was okay, but we had a bigger problem. The park has rules about age. No one under eighteen years old can live there.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The only thing we could do,” she said in a pinched voice. “When we drove in, I slid down in the car seat so no one saw me.”

  “I can’t imagine that was fun.”

  Libby shrugged. “It was all right until high school when I started growing.” She stopped to lick caramel from the plastic spoon. “I grew too tall to hide in the front. A block from the entrance, I’d crawl over the seat and lie down in the back.”

  “Didn’t they notice you around the park?”

  “I mostly stayed at home. On the few occasions we went to the clubhouse, Grams told everyone I was visiting. I didn’t care.” She sat up straighter. “I was in track and a starter on the basketball team. We practiced after school. By the time Dad picked me up, I was ready to eat, do my homework, and go to bed.”

  “I liked sports, too. My grades were nothing to brag about, but I was good at sports.” Maddy took the last bite of her waffle cone. “Considering the problems with living arrangements, wouldn’t it have been easier to live with your mother full-time and see your father on weekends?”

  Libby lowered her head. “When Mom had boyfriends over, she didn’t want me around. Other times, I didn’t want to be there. As soon as she started to drink, I’d call Dad to come get me.”

  “That’s tough.” Maddy could only imagine. “Being a teenager is hard enough. Your parents’ situation didn’t make it any easier.”

  “Back then, I didn’t think much about it. I accepted the way things were, but I spent a lot of time trying to be invisible.” She pulled back her shoulders and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Talking to customers every day helps me out of my shell. I’m still good at keeping secrets, but I don’t feel a need to hide anymore.”

  Maddy admired the young woman for not using her difficult upbringing as an excuse. “And now, you have your own place.”

  “Yeah.” She beamed with pride. “Grams passed away and left the trailer to Dad. Each of us finally had a bedroom, but we kept our secret until I was eighteen. He was still relieved when I moved into an apartment with two girlfriends.”

  “Didn’t you say you lived with your boyfriend?”

  “I met Billy last year. My roommates and I were going to classes at junior college and working part-time. He talked me into finding a full-time position so we could move in together.”

  “So you stopped your schooling?” My opinion of the boyfriend is not improving.

  “I do classes on-line, after I get off work.”

  “You said Billy doesn’t have a job. Does he help with expenses?”

  “He does handyman stuff when the rent comes due. He doesn’t always earn enough to pay half, but he makes up for it by cooking and cleaning the apartment. Still, it would be easier if I earned more so we didn’t worry about him finding odd jobs.”

  Maddy felt her body overheating from a slow anger. “Is that why he wants you to transfer?”

  “The hourly rate is higher in the deli department.” She twirled her spoon in a half-empty dish. “To be honest, I’d rather keep my position as a cashier. I enjoy meeting people. When there’s no one in line, customers stop to talk.” She beamed with pride. “Mr. Olson calls me his best public relations person because I make people feel at home.”

  Maddy weighed her words. “Perhaps you should consider a different way.”

  “Like what?”

  Finding a new boyfriend. “With your public relation skills, you could be a candidate for the company’s management program. Where do you see yourself five years from now?”

  “I don’t think much about it.” Her face turned crimson. “Except wanting to get married.”

  “Maybe it’s time you did.”

  “Got married?” Libby asked. Her face glowed.

  “Thought about your future.”

  The girl stared out the window. “Do you honestly believe I could be a manager?”

  “Speak to your boss,” Maddy advised her. “The important thing is to figure out what you want to do. It’s easy to get wrapped up trying to please other people.”

  Libby rested the spoon on her lips. A slight frown creased her forehead. “I’m happy doing what Billy thinks I should do. He knows what’s best for me.”

  Like your father knew what was best when he hid you from the neighbors? “Don’t lose yourself living another person’s life. I’ve had experience with that. It won’t work out in the long run.”

  The girl smiled absently and returned her attention to the melting ice cream. Maddy knew her words were falling on deaf ears. I remember what it’s like to be twenty-one and feel that you’ve found the love of your life.

  * * *

  “Did we get you back on time?” Maddy asked as they approached Fresh & Healthy.

  “There’s Billy!” Libby’s tone split between surprise and disappointment. “I guess he didn’t find work today.”

  They looked toward a young man straddling a black and chrome motorcycle parked under a shade tree in the lot. He had brown hair as long and stringy as Libby’s with a single tuft on his chin. His tank top exposed tattooed shoulders and a silver ring on a chain around his neck.

  The girl reached out to grab Maddy’s hand. “I’ll introduce you.”

  Maddy glanced in Billy’s direction. His eyes pierced hers. “Another time. I have to go to work, but I’ll be in touch.”

  Libby held up her phone to show the display. “Here’s my number. Call when you can. My boyfriend would love to meet you.” She ran to his side. Billy leaned over to hug her, but he never took his eyes away from Maddy.

  I doubt he’s eager for us to meet, Maddy thought. She yanked a set of keys from her purse and hurried to her car. A feeling of being watched sent shivers up her spine.

  Waving as she drove past, she repeated a number out loud. As soon as traffic allowed, she pulled to the side of the road, wrote the digits on a notepad, and hit speed dial. When she got no answer, she left a message. Hi, it’s me. I need a favor. Let me know if you have anything on a Billy Duncan. She left a description and the license plate of the motorcycle.

  Her phone buzzed before she entered the stream of oncoming cars. “What’s up with you and your sister?” Tom asked. “Lea called with a similar request yesterday.”

  “For the same dude?”

  “No, but she wanted to know whether someone had been in trouble with the law. Why are you two associating with people who might have criminal records?”

  “What can I say? It’s all in a day’s work.”

  “Then the quality of your clientele has taken a sharp turn for the worse. I’ll get back to you.” The line went dead.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The same morning, off a sun baked dirt road two hours northeast of Buena Viaje, a tractor rumbled through acres of light-green trees. Dust covered Lea’s windshield as she drove alongside irrigation ditches and endless rows of pistachios.

  Pulling to the side of the road, she watched a truck armed with a giant metal forceps grab a tree trunk and shake it, sending nuts clattering to the ground like a slow-moving hailstorm. Above rows containing long, narrow piles of dried almonds, a plume of dust billowed, thick enough to blot out the sky above the treetops. A chute on a large machine vacuumed up the harvest, sending a steady stream of nuts flying into the trailer hitched behind.

  She gaped at the efficiency on display when an angry voice cut through the truck’s roar. “Hey, you!”

  Her head spun around. The man walking toward her wore a sweat-stained baseball cap, jeans, and boots. The checkered bandanna knotted at his neck clashed with a short-sleeved plaid shirt which covered arms as dry and weathered as the soil. He appeared to be of middle age from hunched broad shoulders, hair with streaks of gray, and a stomach protruding over his belt.

  He leaned over the window and rested an arm
on the roof of her car. “You look like another one of those newspaper people out here to write an article blaming nuts for the water crisis.”

  “I’m here to see Sunny Ralston. His cousin asked me to come.”

  Without giving his name, he pointed up the road. “Keep going to the top of the hill. His office is in the big white building with a black SUV parked in front.” He turned and walked away.

  * * *

  She checked in with the receptionist. “I have an appointment with Mr. Ralston.”

  “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

  Moments later, a man in dark dungarees and a checkered shirt, ten years younger than the man in the orchard, walked into the lobby. He blushed slightly as he crossed the room and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again under better circumstances.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Sunny.” In the relaxed atmosphere, she could see an unmistakable resemblance with his cousin in the warm eyes and friendly smile.

  “Please, follow me.” For each employee they passed, he paused with a word of praise or a friendly slap on the back.

  Her first impression of his office was that her sister would approve. Wood and leather furnishings gave the spacious room an informal, inviting feel. Gray and white pictures on the walls depicted the history of area farming. An over-sized window framed a view of trees and grape vines stretching as far as the eye could see. She admired the view before taking a seat. “From the freeway, a person doesn’t grasp the extent of the land. It goes on forever.”

  “It’s hard to believe, even for me, that Sunny Orchards has increased in size to nearly ten thousand acres. Our family has been farming for three generations. Grandfather started with wheat and cattle on a small plot of land. My father added fruits and vegetables, and I put in the vineyards.”

  “How did it expand to its current size?”

  “Several years ago, I was fortunate to find some investors eager to get in on the craze for nuts.” He opened a small refrigerator under a built-in bar and pulled out two bottles. “They supplied the capital to buy neighboring farms. With their money, my family purchased land and dropped in trees, converting much of the additional acreage to almonds, pistachios, and walnuts.”

  She accepted the cold water he offered. “What return do the investors get?”

  “As high as thirty percent, much higher than gains from apples, corn, and soybeans.” He pointed to a large jar of almonds on the bar. “They’ve become as valuable as the grape harvest, surpassing peanuts as America’s favorite nut.”

  She arched her eyebrows. “With their popularity, the price of nuts has skyrocketed.”

  “It’s the rising wave in nutrition and diet. Almond products, including butter and milk, are flying off supermarket shelves.”

  “Ryan told me you send much of what you produce overseas.”

  “We export seventy percent of our product.” He grinned. “To use the expression, the Chinese have gone nuts for them.”

  “If that’s true, why didn’t your neighbors convert their farms instead of selling?”

  He walked to the window and looked over the acreage. “It takes a lot of time and money, not things most farmers have in abundance.”

  “I was impressed with what I saw when I drove in.”

  “In a matter of hours, machines and a handful of workers are able to harvest thousands of trees. It’s one of the factors that makes the business so profitable.”

  “Investors aren’t the only ones trying to profit from the nut boom. What can you tell me regarding recent thefts you experienced?”

  “My cousin probably told you one of his trucks was waylaid.”

  “Yes, he did. I’d like to hear about the others.”

  Sunny returned to his chair. “Three trucks carrying large orders to grocers were hit. Last week, the thieves got more aggressive. Rather than wait to hijack a delivery truck, they stole fifty thousand dollars of walnuts right off our property.”

  “The thieves broke into your distribution center?”

  “They must have known we have high tech security in our buildings. Instead, they went to the groves and stole nuts that had been raked from the trees. They even plucked one grove by hand.”

  “Ryan told me you reported the thefts to the police. Have they made any headway?”

  “I made those reports mainly for insurance purposes. I know the police don’t have much chance of catching the crooks.” He leaned back and folded his arms in front of his chest. “My cousin tells me you’re looking into it for him.”

  “He’s worried one of his people might be involved. I’m going to speak with his employees to assure him he has nothing to worry about.”

  “What if you find reason for suspicion? Is he willing to accept that?”

  “Of course. That’s why I’m here to learn how deliveries are scheduled and who has access to that information.”

  “I’ll help any way I can. Ryan’s eager to make district manager with a baby on the way. His company might have second thoughts about his promotion if they learn an employee has been getting away with theft under his nose. He’ll look better if he’s the one who uncovers the guilty party.”

  She paused, hesitant to bring up an underlying issue. “If I clear his employees, that will put the onus on you to prove someone here isn’t guilty.”

  “In that case, I may need your help as well. The investors won’t look favorably on how their money is being handled if someone in my company is responsible.”

  “Your cousin suggested I report my findings to both of you.”

  “I appreciate that. Family get-togethers have been unpleasant lately.” For the next few moments, he explained the company’s scheduling and delivery routines. “If you have more questions, ask our farm manager, Archie Turner. Besides handling harvesting and deliveries, he’s responsible for supervising workers and contract laborers. He knows everyone who works for us.”

  “May I speak with him before I leave?”

  “Yes, but not here. Archie doesn’t like the business side of farming. He’s out with the crops and the workers all day.” A smile worked its way across his face. “You’ll have to get your shoes dirty to talk to Archie. When you find him, don’t be put off by his gruff exterior. His social skills are less than polished. He prefers things that grow in dirt to other living things.”

  She met his amused look with one of her own. “I may have met him already.” She described the man who confronted her when she arrived.

  Sunny’s smile broke into a wide grin. “That’s Archie.”

  “He seems to be defensive about outsiders saying negative things about Sunny Orchards.”

  “The irony is that he used to speak badly of the Orchards himself until he sold his farm and came to work for us. That’s when an unspoken resentment took root.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Archie got hit hard by the drought and didn’t have the resources to replace worn-out machinery. It got to a point where his farm wasn’t producing enough to support his family. I offered to buy his place more than once. It was obvious he couldn’t go on but he turned me down, more from stubborn pride than anything.” Sunny stroked his beard. “He finally gave in and accepted my offer, but by the time he got out from under, his wife was fed up. She divorced him and took half the money from the sale of their land.”

  “How did he come to work for you?”

  “Sunny Orchards was getting too big for me to handle. I offered him a job as farm manager. He could hardly refuse with child support and an ailing father, but it was hard for him to swallow. Archie never asked for help his entire life. He considered not making it on his own to be failure.” Sunny studied his folded hands. “He’s been bitter ever since.”

  “Was he right?”

  He raised his head. “Right about what?”

  “Was your offer of employment a handout?”

  “No way. To me, it was purely business. Archie’s the best orchardist in the state. He knows more about tr
ees than anyone. Understands them a heck of a lot better than he did his own family.”

  * * *

  Sunny paged Archie and told him to expect a visitor. From the brief exchange, Lea gathered the response was less than enthusiastic.

  She followed directions to a small grove of trees near the front entrance where she parked under a shady tree and leaned against her car, waiting for the manager to appear. A peacefulness created by buzzing bees and the drone of farm machinery in the distance engulfed her. The warm sun beat on her face. She lifted a straw hat from the back seat and dropped it carelessly on her head.

  Sunlight glared off the gold belt buckle of the man approaching. She shaded her eyes and stepped away from the car. “We didn’t have time for introductions earlier. I’m Lea Austin.”

  He wiped his hand on his jeans before grasping her outstretched hand. “Archie Turner. The boss said you’d be stopping to ask a few questions,”—his voice hardened—”on your way out.”

  “I’m hoping you have an idea of who might be responsible for the recent food heists.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If I did, I’d tell my boss, not an outsider.”

  Sunny was right to have warned her about the reception she’d get. She tried a different approach. “You have a big responsibility here. I imagine with a place this size, you watch over a large number of workers.”

  “Not as many as you might imagine.” He used the bandanna from his neck to wipe his brow and the inside of his baseball cap. “Fruits and vegetables need more hands to harvest than nuts. Machines have replaced hundreds of workers. We manage more acres of nut trees with fewer than half the people. If Sunny converts more land, we’ll cut our labor requirements even further.”

  “That must save a lot of money spent on wages.”

  “It’s good for the farm’s bottom line,” he said, in a voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Not so good for migrant workers trying to feed their families.” He spat and kicked dirt on the spittle.