09 The Clue at Black Creek Farm (3 page)

He shook his head and stomped off, leaving Sam looking crestfallen. “There's nothing wrong with my vegetables,” he muttered after a moment, but Jack was already out the door, helping the paramedics load Julie into the ambulance.

A murmur went through the crowd, and Holly approached Sam and Abby. I watched the three of them huddle together and whisper for a moment before Abby split off and yelled, “Attention, please!”

All eyes turned to Abby, who was shaking her head and looking disbelievingly toward the kitchen. “I'm so sorry,” she said quietly, and when Holly made a
speak up!
gesture, raised her voice enough to be heard over
the crowd. “We're so sorry! There seems to be some sort of misunderstanding, a concern about the safety of the food tonight. Our daughter-in-law, Julie, got quite ill after eating an early dinner.”

The noise from the crowd intensified as people expressed their surprise. I could hear snatches of conversation all around me:

“. . . produce made her
sick
?”

“Poor girl was pregnant . . .”

“. . . What are they
up to
on that farm?”

Abby seemed to hear the chatter too and shook her head defiantly. “I know our growing practices are safe. I hope we have the opportunity to prove that to you soon! But for now, I'm afraid . . .”

Her voice trailed off. Sam, who'd been in the corner, stepped up behind her.

“The dinner is canceled,” he said in a deep, matter-of-fact voice.

A blip of nervous laughter went through the crowd, followed by the dull roar of surprised conversation. I looked around at the other audience members, who
were shaking their heads and walking back to their tables to collect their things.

“Guess we won't be joining
this
CSA!” I heard one middle-aged blond woman say to the man I assumed was her husband.

Nervously, I looked back at Sam. From his disappointed face, I knew he had heard the woman too.

It wasn't long before the community center had nearly emptied out. Soon my friends and I were standing alone with Sam, Abby, Holly, and Lori.

Sam was staring at the floor. Abby took his hand and squeezed it, and he looked up at her and gave a deep sigh. Then he turned to Holly and Lori.

“Holly, Lori,” he said, “how did this happen?”

Holly shook her head. “It beats me,” she replied, looking truly mystified. “Lori and I handled all the food prep ourselves. I personally made sure that everything was properly washed and cooked.”

Lori nodded, pushing her long, dark hair behind her ears. “Everything was scrubbed and cooked, or just scrubbed. I really don't understand how there
could have been
anything
on those vegetables that could make a person sick—much less salmonella or E. coli.”

“Where do salmonella and E. coli come from?” I spoke up. Sam, Abby, and Holly all turned to face me, surprised, as though they'd forgotten I was there.

“They both come from animals,” Sam replied, shrugging. “Which makes it very strange they were found on my vegetables. We don't have any animals on the farm except for a coop full of egg-laying chickens, and they're way over on the other side of the property from the vegetables.”

I frowned. “So how could—”

But Holly spoke at the same time, throwing up her hands. “What do we do now?” she asked, looking at Sam and Abby. “This dinner was our last-ditch attempt to get new CSA members. And now it's ruined! How can we keep Black Creek Farm going?”

I saw Sam wince at the words “last-ditch.” 

“We just
do
,” he said, “because I'm never giving up on this farm.”

Abby put her hands on his shoulders. “We have to get to the bottom of this,” she said. “There must be some mistake. There's no way our produce would make someone sick.”

Holly shook her head. “How could this be a mistake? You all saw Julie go down.”

George tapped her lip. “Well, either the salmonella or E. coli was on the vegetables in the kitchen,” she pointed out, “or else someone
put
it there.”

Holly turned to her former Girl Scout in surprise. “Yeesh, George,” she muttered. “That's quite the conspiracy theory you've got there. And who put the E. coli on the veggies? Colonel Mustard with the infected cow bile?”

George smiled. “Maybe I am being overly suspicious,” she said, “but only because I happen to hang out with the World's Best Teenage Detective!” As I tried to blend in with the carpeting, my friend turned and pointed an indigo-painted fingernail in my direction. “Nancy, can't you help them out?”

I looked up into the circle of bewildered faces and
cleared my throat. “Um, George may be overstating things. . . .”

But Bess was shaking her head wildly. “She's not at all,” she insisted. “Nancy is
amazing
at catching crooks. It's like it's in her blood.”

Abby glanced at Sam, tilting her head to the side in a questioning way.

Sam laughed. “Well, the World's Best Teenage Detective is someone I want on my side,” he said. “Nancy, might you have the time to help us?”

I looked from George's and Bess's eager faces (
I'll get you two for this later,
I thought) to the skeptical face of Holly, to the open, hopeful faces of Sam and Abby. Seeing the farmers' expressions, I sighed.
I can't turn them down,
I thought. But also, my heart was pounding at the thought of these nice people being potentially tricked.
And if someone
is
setting them up,
I thought,
I can't let that crook get away
.

Bess had been right. The need for justice
was
in my blood.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll do whatever I can.”

An hour later Bess, George, and Lori were heading home, Holly and Abby had made their way to the hospital to check on Julie (who was now resting comfortably, per a call from Jack), and I was walking out with Sam as Ned went to get the car.

Sam's phone pinged and he pulled it out, checking a text and sighing deeply. “This is a disaster,” he said. “Until we get to the bottom of what's going on with our vegetables, we have to put all sales and CSA orders on hold. That's thousands of dollars. This could sink us.”

I frowned sympathetically. “That's awful. I hope Ned's friend can help us figure out what's on the vegetables.” Ned's a student at River Heights University, and he'd offered to take some samples of the food Julie had eaten back to the campus with him. He had a biology major friend, Rashid, who might be able to test them for contaminants. “How do you think the E. coli, or whatever it is, is getting on your vegetables?” I asked.

“
I don't know,” Sam said. “That's the honest truth.”

I tilted my head. “How does it normally happen? Like when there's an outbreak, and produce is recalled?”

“Well, it's usually on a big factory farm, and what they typically find is that it was transferred by contaminated farming or processing equipment,” Sam explained. “You know, it gets on a tractor or a picker. Then it gets on all the veggies. But we don't use any fancy tools at Black Creek. Unless
these
count.” He held up his hands.

I nodded. “Could some
one
be transferring it? Someone doesn't wash their hands before picking the vegetables, and . . .”

“It's possible, but not very likely,” Sam said. “The thing is, E. coli comes from
inside a cow.
Literally, from inside their digestive system. It's not the sort of thing you might just be walking around with on your hands.”

I tapped my chin, thinking. I was stumped. “Do you fertilize your crops with cow manure?” I asked.

Sam shook his head. “Nope. We only use plant-based fertilizers.”

I heard something behind me and turned to find Ned pulling up in the car.

Sam glanced at Ned and held up his hand in a small wave. “Listen, we really appreciate your looking into this, Nancy. You've gone above and beyond already, staying this late, getting your boyfriend to bring the samples to his friend. Go home and get some sleep. Maybe we can talk later.”

I was still thinking, trying to reason out how an animal-based virus had gotten itself onto Black Creek Farm's organic produce. “Can I come take a look at the farm?” I asked.

Sam's eyes lit up. “Of course you can!” he said happily. “I'd love to show you around. I'm proud of what we're doing there.”

I smiled. “Great,” I said. “I'll call you and set up a time.” I reached into my pocket and fingered the business card Sam had given me earlier.
BLACK CREEK FARM—WE RAISE HAPPY FRUITS AND VEGETABLES!

Sam reached out and clasped my shoulder. “Thank you, Nancy,” he said passionately. “I can't tell you how much this means to me. This farm, this CSA—it's my dream.” He paused, clearing his throat. “And this is my last chance to save it.”

I gently put my hand on top of his. “I'll do everything I can,” I said. “You have my word. If someone is sabotaging Black Creek Farm, we'll get to the bottom of it.”

NED RAISED HIS HANDS TO
his face, pretending to blush as he opened the door to his dorm room to find me.

“Oh, gosh!” he said. “A visit from my always-busy girlfriend. Did you come to help me study for midterms? Maybe you brought me some chocolate-chip cookies to fuel my late nights?” He batted his eyelashes goofily.

I shoved him. “You know why I'm here,” I chided. “And sadly, no, I didn't bake any chocolate-chip cookies.”

Ned made a horrified face. “I didn't mean you had
baked
them,” he teased. “I wouldn't want you to burn your house down. I meant maybe you'd brought over some that
Hannah
made.”

I groaned. “Just for that, I'm not giving you these oatmeal raisin cookies from Hannah! I'm going to eat them all myself!” I held up the plastic bag containing five cookies, which my dad's and my longtime housekeeper and cook had
insisted
I bring over to Ned. Hannah was famous (in River Heights, at least) for her oatmeal raisin cookies. She'd once tried to teach me how to make them, and yes, I admit, there had been fire involved.

Ned grabbed the cookies out of my hand and ran over to his desk, tearing the bag open and devouring one. “Uhhhmmmm,” he moaned through a mouthful of crumbs. “Why only five?”

I smiled. “Because Hannah said she knew you'd be sitting around studying all day,” I replied. “She didn't want you to get ‘a potbelly.' Her words, not mine.”

Ned turned to look at me over his shoulder, surprise
in his eyes. “I could go run around the yard between cram sessions, if it would mean more cookies,” he said. “You tell Hannah that.”

“I think we're getting off track here,” I reminded him.

Ned inhaled another cookie. “I dithagwee,” he muttered, spewing crumbs.

I stepped closer, tapping his shoulder. “I came over here to check on the Black Creek Farm test results.”

Ned sighed, drawing his fingers over the plastic lock on the bag. “That reminds me,” he said sadly. “I should save some of these for Rashid. To say thank you, y'know?”

“Don't bother.” I pulled another plastic bag from my other pocket. “I've got you covered. Now, the results?”

Ned put down the bag of cookies and turned to look me in the face. My skin prickled with nerves. I had a feeling, from his very serious brown eyes, that I wasn't going to like whatever he was about to say.

“Rashid said the cooked dishes were all clean,” he said.
“But . . .
”

“But?” I
prodded, knowing that the important info lay beyond that word.

“But the cold dishes, the salads, were
crawling
with E. coli,” Ned finished.