Murder Most Fowl (8 page)

C
am awoke to sunshine warming the old floorboards in her upstairs bedroom, which meant it was after seven, sleeping in for a farmer. She had texted Pete about the e-cigarette the night before, then had resumed watching the movie. She yawned, feeling distinctly unrested. Her sleep had been punctuated by unsettling dreams and several periods of lying awake, wanting to get back to sleep but being afraid she'd slide back into the last dream sequence.

But now she had work to do, since she'd accomplished essentially nothing on the farm yesterday. Twenty minutes later she was dressed, caffeinated, at least the initial dose, and outside opening the chicken coop, with Dasha sitting in front of the barn. Hillary came strutting out, followed by a wing-flapping Ruffles, who flew to the top of the fence and announced the day. Cam freshened up their food and water, glad she had only forty, not four hundred like Wayne and Greta. No, only Greta, now.

Inside the barn, Cam checked on the chicks in the office. The little puffs seemed to have grown overnight. She gave them fresh food and water, too, and added a few handfuls of new bedding. She smiled and cooed to them in their box, laughing when a couple pecked at her fingers.

She wandered into the hoop house and stretched. She needed to do the pruning, start more seeds, and harvest a load of compost from the worm bins. But it was still chilly out and she'd rather prune during the midday hours when she could catch the warmth of the sun. What she wanted to do was go ask Judith if that was her e-cig cartridge that ended up under the Laitinens' shrubbery. It could be innocent. Judith must have visited the farmhouse trying to convince Wayne to sell. Would she go so far as to kill Wayne to get the land, though? Even though Cam had come in contact with more than one murderer over the last year, she still didn't understand how someone could be driven to commit such a horrible deed.

She turned on the hose and watered the greens growing in the long beds, watching the gentle spray from the watering wand wet the variously shaped and colored leaves of the Asian greens, spinach, and lettuces. She didn't have any reason to pay Judith a visit, since she didn't actually know her. And surely lots of people used e-cigarettes these days. When the plants and seedlings were all watered, Cam spent half an hour starting two flats each of Asian eggplant and assorted hot peppers, including the superhot orange habanero and the fiery Bangkok, a tiny red Thai pepper. She wheeled the garden cart over to the worm bins and shoveled out the finished castings, then sprinkled them over the greens to feed their need for nitrogen.

As she walked back to the house for breakfast and more coffee, Preston streaking ahead of her and Dasha trotting at her side, Cam spied Katie's bike in the back of the truck. Katie, who worked for Judith. Cam snapped her fingers. Now she had a plausible reason for going to see Judith. But first she needed to call Great-Uncle Albert. Despite an assisted living residence being his home and despite his eighty-six years, he still had the pulse of the town, even though he hadn't been at the town meeting.

After the last bite of cheese omelet and toast, Cam dialed Albert's number on the old house phone, which had an actual dial.

“Cammy, what a pleasure,” Albert said after greeting her.

Cam smiled to herself at her childhood nickname.

“What's this I hear about our friend Wayne? Gone too soon, and murdered, apparently.”

“It's terrible news.” She wasn't surprised that Albert already knew.

“Does your Pete have a suspect in custody?”

“Not yet. Listen, how about if I come over for a visit this afternoon? I haven't seen you in a couple of weeks.”

“I'd be much pleased, but I've got computer club this afternoon. How about tomorrow at four, instead? Bring me some of that—”

“Ipswich IPA. You bet. Four o'clock?”

“We'll have our own private happy hour.”

 

Cam stood at the front door to Judith's designer home. Most of the houses in this part of town were farmhouses several centuries old, some renovated, some, like the Laitinens', not. But Judith had either torn down the prior residence or had cleared woods to build this Colonial-style mansion. A three-car garage connected at the left side, and every detail looked expensive, from the beveled glass of the entryway to the impeccable landscaping of the front lawn and the curved borders of the still-dormant gardens. No cracks marred the driveway pavement, no dirt lurked in the corners of the windows.

Taking a deep breath, Cam pressed the backlit doorbell. She'd waited until nine-thirty before driving here, and had changed out of her work clothes into clean jeans and a sweater. She stood at the door and listened to chickadees beeping as they flitted around one of the pines at the edge of the lawn. The sunshine was rapidly warming the air.

No one appeared at the door. Cam glanced at a small black device mounted above the door. Was that a camera? She took a step back on the pad of irregularly shaped paving stones. Should she ring again, or leave? She should have called first. She'd turned to go when she heard the faint sound of heels clicking inside. Cam faced the door again as it swung open.

“Yes?” Judith also wore jeans and a sweater, although hers were designer versions. She raised her thin eyebrows. “Can I help you?”

Cam stepped forward, extending her hand. “I'm Cam Flaherty, from up on Attic Hill Road. I'm a friend of your employee Katie Magnusson. We had dinner last night and it was too late for her to ride home. I have her bike in the truck. Is she here working?”

Judith pursed her lips, finally reaching out to shake Cam's hand with a firm touch. “Judith Patterson. But Katie isn't here.” She pulled her hand back.

“I guess I'll take the bike back home then. She told me you're a financial planner. Do you suppose I could ask you a few questions?”

“I suppose. Come in.” Judith led the way down a long hall toward the back.

Cam pulled the door shut behind her and followed, ending up in a huge pristine kitchen lit by skylights and a wall of windows facing a small garden in front of the woods. What looked like a modest stable on the left appeared to be attached to the back of the garage. Inside, stone countertops gleamed and the black-and-white motif was unwarmed by any splashes of color. Cam couldn't even see a refrigerator, so a collection of goofy magnets and family photos wasn't part of the scene, either.

Judith pointed to a long cherry table at the side of the room. “Sit. Coffee?”

“I'd love some, thanks.” Cam pulled out a chair and lowered herself into it.

Judith inserted a pod into a single-serving brewer, brought over milk, sugar, and a spoon in a modern silver set, then set a steaming mug in front of Cam. With an erect back, Judith sat across the table.

“You're the organic farmer, right?” Judith tapped a long red nail on the table.

Cam added a little milk to the dark rich brew, took a sip, then set down the mug. “I am. That's how I know Katie. Her sister, Alexandra, is one of my volunteers and customers.”

“Katie's a good girl. So did you see the local news yesterday?”

“About the vandalism at Wayne's farm, and his death?” Cam asked.

“Poor Wayne.” Judith shook her head. “I've heard gossip that he was killed, that it wasn't a heart attack.”

“I heard the same thing.”

“I don't like the thought of a murderer in our small town. Wayne's farm is right through the woods from here, in fact.”

“I know.” Cam took a deep breath. She had to give this a try. “Listen, about Katie. I think she's a decent girl, but I wondered if you thought she was—”

Judith interrupted. “Capable of murder?” She barked out a laugh. “Are you kidding? If she finds a fly or a mosquito inside, she traps it and sets it loose outdoors. Kill a person? No way. Impossible.”

“Good. I feel the same way.”

Judith rose and picked up something from a shelf across the room. She returned to the table holding a slender e-cigarette. “Do you mind if I vape?”

Vape?
So that was the verb, for vapor, she guessed. Cam shook her head. “Anyway, my portfolio is small, but I'd love some advice about where to invest it.”

“I'm a consultant in the financial sector. I work in high net worth wealth management, primarily. But I could recommend someone, if you'd like.” Judith put the tip of the black cylinder to her mouth. As she took a long drag, a purple light shone at the tip and vapor curled into the air. She pulled out the e-cig and inhaled deeply, then said, “I'm fortunate to work from home, and Katie's a big help.”

“She appreciates the job.” Cam sipped her coffee. “Wayne was a friend of mine, helping me with my small flock of chickens. I heard Greta and him talking about your offer to buy a parcel of their land.”

“It's a generous offer, and it's still on the table.” Judith sniffed. “It was ridiculous of him to refuse, although I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. He and Greta needed the money badly. But he had a silly notion of keeping all that unused land in the family.”

“Does Greta feel differently about it?”

“Yes, but now it will be tied up in the disposal of his estate. I still want that land for my daughter's horse.” She gestured with the e-cig toward the woods beyond the yard. “Their property line is only a few yards into the trees there. My Isabella is growing up fast.” She put the e-cig to her lips again. “And all she cares about is horses. Not Harry Potter, not ballet, not science.”

“How old is she?”

“Eleven going on twenty.” Judith barked out another laugh.

“So you must have been over at Wayne's talking with them about your offer.” Cam cringed inwardly. She knew she was at risk of sounding like a busybody, but maybe she could help Pete by learning what Judith and Wayne's dealings had been.

“Yeah. We're neighbors.” Judith raised a shoulder and let it drop. “In fact, he had asked me over to breakfast the morning he was killed.”

“Oh? Did you go?”

“I don't think that's any of your business.” She cocked her head, gazing at Cam. “You're awfully curious about all this. Why do you care if I buy part of the Laitinen property or not?” Her dark eyes pinned Cam.

“I don't care, particularly. But they're friends of mine. Anyway, as you said, the land will probably be tied up in probate for a while.” Cam stood. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“If you see Katie, tell her I'll need her at the usual time today.” Judith stood as well. She led Cam down the hall, heels tapping a sharp rhythm.

As the door to her Ford creaked open, Cam glanced back at the house. Judith remained in the doorway, arms folded, her raptor gaze focused only on Cam.

C
am lopped a sucker off the apple tree an hour later, then stood back to figure out where to cut next. The book open on the ground next to her said to prune only at the junction of one branch with another, to remove any branch that rubbed on another, and to open up the canopy. She looked from book to tree to book. Where was the apprenticeship system when she needed it? Learning pruning would be so much easier with an experienced orchardist showing her how.

Dasha picked up the long thin sucker in his jaws and looked expectantly at her. Cam laughed, wrested it out of his mouth, and hurled it far across the field toward the woods at the back of her property. The sun warming the air was a welcome blessing on the day and lightened her mood, which had darkened from her visit to Judith. Cam didn't know why she'd wasted her time following up on the e-cig cartridge. Judith had every reason to visit Wayne and she could have dropped the e-cig at the house. True, killing him removed the obstacle of his objection to selling, but now it didn't appear that Greta would be able to sell for a while, at least according to Judith.

Cam shook her head. She'd texted Pete about the e-cig, and about Judith's saying Wayne had invited her for breakfast. Let him deal with it. Cam's work was farming, not detecting. She aimed the long-handled loppers at a thick branch, but they only went halfway through. She twisted the branch, and when it finally came free it took a strip of bark from where it was attached. Her virtual teacher, the book, specifically said to avoid doing that, as it opened the tree to infection.

Cam blew out a breath. This apple tree was the last to survive of the small orchard of antique varieties that Albert and Marie had planted when they'd first married sixty-some years ago. It yielded delicious if somewhat misshapen winey fruit, but it was a lot of work maintaining it organically, and she should have sharpened the old loppers before starting this task. She set down the loppers and picked up her hand pruners. These she'd ordered new in the winter, so they were sharp and nicely oiled, and the smooth red handles felt perfect in her palm. She focused on the smaller branches, clipping the suckers that shot straight up in the middle.

“Yo, Cam!” a female voice called after she'd been working about twenty minutes. Alexandra and Katie appeared from behind the barn and strode toward her. Alexandra was taller than her older sister but they shared the same forthright gait.

Cam waved her pruners. When they reached her, she greeted them.

“You survived last night?” she asked Katie.

Katie shoved her hands in the pockets of her navy pea coat and nodded. “They let me go home, so I guess I survived it.”

“What kind of questions did they ask you?” Cam asked.

“They went over and over the vandalism, how I knew those people, and why I went back in the morning.” Katie's face was pale under her knit hat and she chewed on her lower lip.

“She kept telling them the same thing,” Alexandra added. “That she felt bad, went back to apologize, and then freaked out when she saw Paul Underwood.”

“I wonder what he was doing there.” Cam frowned. “I know he and Wayne were old friends. Felicity told me they hung out together in high school, anyway.”

“No idea,” Alexandra said. “I was just glad when she called for a ride. It was late, almost ten o'clock.”

“I came to pick up my bike.” Katie pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked it. “I need to get to work by noon and it's already eleven-thirty.”

“Work at Judith's?” Cam asked.

“She gets wicked upset if I'm late.”

“I can imagine. I dropped by to see her this morning.”

“Why would you do that?” Katie's face scrunched up in bewilderment.

“Oh, I'll tell you later.” Cam cleared her throat. “But she said you do a good job.”

“I would hope so.” Alexandra sounded protective. “I need to get back to my work, too.”

“Thanks for the ride, A.” Katie smiled at her sister.

“No probs. See you Wednesday, Cam.” Alexandra waved and started for the barn.

“Wednesday?” Cam asked.

“Volunteer day, right? Or don't you need me this week?”

“I almost forgot. Of course. I can always use your help. Thanks,” Cam said.

Dasha ran up with the stick in his mouth. Alexandra laughed and threw it toward the driveway.

After Alexandra left, Cam turned to Katie. “Did Pete seem satisfied with your answers to his questioning?”

She didn't meet Cam's gaze. As Cam's cell phone rang in her back pocket, Katie turned away.

“Can you wait a minute?” Cam asked.

Katie shook her head as she almost ran toward the barn. She didn't look back. Cam watched her go as she retrieved the phone and connected to find one of her favorite people on the other end.

“Lucinda, cool to hear from you.”

“You know what today is,
fazendeira
?” Her Brazilian friend always called Cam “farmer” in Portuguese.

“Monday?”

“No, silly. Saint Patrick's Day. Let's go to the pub tonight.”

“I guess I'd better, with a name like Flaherty.”

“Yeah, and you know I'm really O'Silva.” Lucinda DaSilva's laugh was as big as her personality. “I'll pick you up at seven.”

“I'll be wearing my green overalls. See you tonight.” Cam disconnected. Not that she owned green overalls, but she had a green sweater somewhere. A relaxing night at the pub, with Irish stew and green beer, was just the ticket for taking her mind off murder. Katie didn't seem to want to dwell on it, either. But she'd avoided Cam's eyes. Why?

 

After a couple of hours of pruning, Cam was about to make lunch in the house when Dasha alerted, then ran to the door barking. She pushed up from the chair at her computer to see Pete climbing out of his car. As she opened the door, Dasha ran out. Cam waited, watching dog and human exchange greetings, before calling out her own.

“Done for the day?”

Pete glanced up from Dasha. “I only wish.”

“Well, come on in for a minute.” Pete, carrying a paper bag, trudged up the stairs like it took his last ounce of energy. His hair was as rumpled as his shirt, and a dark growth was emerging on his usually clean-shaven face. She held the door open, then wrapped her arms around him once they were inside. They stood together for several moments of respite before Pete disengaged, shucked off his coat, and sank into a chair.

“Have you slept at all?” Cam asked.

He gazed at her with his chin on hand. “I got a few hours last night. I wanted to thank you for that tip about the nicotine cartridge.”

“That's what it was? I wondered why Dasha was drawn to it.”

“We haven't learned whose it was, but if whoever dropped it was nervous or frightened, Dash would have been attracted to that. Dogs are expert at picking up the chemicals we leave behind.”

“I read somewhere that smelling is to dogs as seeing is to us.”

“That's right,” he said. “Anyway, the information came in time to check for nicotine in the autopsy.”

“In the lungs?” Cam sat opposite him.

“No, in the blood. Wayne was poisoned with nicotine.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

“So it definitely wasn't a heart attack. Any kind of poison sounds nasty.”

“Very. Smoke shops now sell little vials of pure liquid nicotine. It's highly toxic. Two are enough to poison a grown man.” He rapped his fingers on the table.

Cam whistled. “Why is it even legal?”

“Shouldn't be. But you know how people are in this country. Can't step on individual rights and all that.”

“And vaping keeps smoke out of the air. That's gotta be good, right? Although I wonder if it introduces chemicals into the body.”

“Whatever.” He waved a tired hand. “Any chance of a cup of coffee? I brought lunch.” He held up the bag.

“Sure. I'm hungry.” Cam rose and headed to the kitchen. After she ground the beans, she called back to him, “Wouldn't they automatically check for any poison in the blood?”

“No. There are hundreds of toxins that can kill, and lots of the tests are different. They only test for what's suspected. Thanks to you, we had a suspicion of nicotine.”

Preston ambled into the kitchen as Cam poured milk into her mug. He gave his tiny mew, then reared up to rub his head against Cam's knee. “One minute, Mr. P.” She poured a little milk into his food dish. When Dasha let out a bark and trotted in, Cam dug a dog biscuit out for him. “Treats for all.”

She brought Pete a mug of coffee along with one for herself, then carried plates to the table. Pete drew two subs out of the bag and handed her one. “Turkey and cheese for you, an Italian for me.”

“Thanks. This is perfect. House of Pizza?”

“You nailed it,” Pete said before taking a big bite of his sandwich. “Think they use local turkey?” he asked after he swallowed, with the first smile Cam had seen on him since yesterday morning.

She laughed. “I doubt it, but they make great subs.” She dug into her own lunch.

They ate without speaking for a minute to the sound of Dasha crunching his biscuit and Preston lapping up his milk.

Cam washed down a bite with a sip of coffee. “How are you going to find out who poisoned Wayne?”

“The usual way. Hard work. Interviews. Searching for evidence, motive, possibility.”

“Speaking of interviews, how did it go with Katie last night?”

“She stuck to her story. Which I don't have any good reason to doubt. Except . . .”

“Except what?” Cam set her chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“I don't know. There's something she's not telling me. I don't know what and I don't know why.” A pulse beat in Pete's temple and his jaw worked. “In addition, my new boss is breathing down my neck to close this case quickly. Him and his protégé, Ivan. I don't have the best working relationship with either of them. The commander is ambitious, and I think being stuck north of Boston isn't his idea of getting ahead.”

“So he's taking it out on you?”

“Something like that. He implied that I'll be demoted if I don't make an arrest by the end of the week.” Pete's mouth pulled to the side.

“Maybe this will help you. Remember I told you I saw Judith Patterson at Phat Cats when we were there?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

“She's a vaper. She was doing it that night, and also this morning when I visited her.”

“What? Why did you go to see her?” Pete set down his mug and stared at Cam.

She cleared her throat. “Well, Wayne and his wife had had that argument about selling to Judith. I wanted to bring Katie's bike over there since she said she works for Judith. And while I was there I asked for some financial advice.”

“Cam. That's police business.” He leaned toward her across the table. “You're acting like an investigator again. Please leave it to us. Please?” He reached out his hand and covered hers. “It's great when you tell me things—like about the cartridge, like about Ms. Patterson being an e-cig user. I can always use another set of eyes and ears in the community. But you can't go around visiting someone who may very well be a suspect. Or a murderer.” He squeezed her hand.

“You're right. I guess.”

“I don't want you getting hurt.”

“All right. But let me tell you what Judith said. For one thing, she thinks Katie is completely incapable of killing someone, and I agree.” When Pete opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “And Judith also said Wayne had asked her over for breakfast the morning he was murdered, like I texted you. She hoped it was to tell her he'd changed his mind about selling.”

“Did she go?” Pete's voice quickened and the look in his eyes lightened.

“She wouldn't tell me. If that e-cig cartridge is hers, maybe she did.”

“Maybe. I hate to say it, but this is useful information. Thanks,
agapi mou
.”

Cam scrunched up her nose. “What did you say?”

Pete laughed. “Means ‘my love' in Greek.” He rose, bent over to plant a kiss on Cam's head, and turned toward the door, sliding his arms into his coat.

Cam smiled as Dasha trotted in from the kitchen and looked up at Pete expectantly.

“Sorry, my friend. Still working.” Pete ruffled Dasha's head. “Still okay to have him?” he asked Cam from the doorway.

“Always.
Agapi mou
,” she added softly.