Death of a Bad Apple (15 page)

I was surprised Nathan Chapman could tear himself away from the ladies long enough to do the job. The man apparently had all kinds of talents.

Jake and I moseyed over to the maze area where a nice crowd had already gathered. The side of the maze was roped off with bright red caution tape, creating a single-file aisle that I guessed would corral the line of wannabe contest winners. I saw a few contestants wander by, covered in makeup, stuffed with straw, and clad in patchwork outfits. Apparently folks around here enjoyed dressing up like scarecrows in hopes of winning the prize.

Tiffany appeared from a large tent marked with a sign that read
SCARECROW MAKEOVERS
, where contestants could change into their costumes in private before the contest. She seemed to be giving orders to her young staff, sending them in different directions,
having them test the microphones, gesturing for them to keep the judging area clear from the slowly invading crowd. I recognized one of the guys helping her—J.J.—Dillon's friend from college.

I looked around for Nathan, thinking he must be nearby too, but I didn't see him. Maybe Crystal had given him another talking-to, discouraging him from hanging around her daughter. Or maybe he'd found someone else to hang with, like Paula or any number of young attractive women at the festival. I wondered where Crystal was. Still pouring wine at her new tent location and making sure the crowd got enough of her apple “juice”?

“This is one of the highlights of the Apple Festival,” came a voice behind me. I turned around to see Sheriff O'Neil talking to Detective Shelton.

“You made it,” I said to them.

“Darcy,” Detective Shelton said by way of hello. “Jake. Have a profitable day today?”

We nodded. “Aunt Abby's tarts sold out completely,” I said. “She's working on more for tomorrow. Have you seen her yet?”

Detective Shelton nodded. “I stopped by the bus. She said she'd meet me here as soon as she's done. That woman never rests. I admire her energy.”

“No kidding,” I said. “So, how was your tour of Apple Valley? Did you learn anything more about the murder?”

A few bystanders glanced at me when I said the word “murder.”

Sheriff O'Neil frowned and said in a low voice, “Still looking into it.”

Either that meant no or it meant the sheriff didn't feel like sharing anything with me or the people around us. No worries. I'd get it out of Aunt Abby later, after she got it out of Detective Shelton.

I turned back in time to see Tiffany duck into the scarecrow-prep tent again. A few seconds later Crystal popped out of the tent and retrieved a microphone from one of the teenagers, then disappeared inside once more. I spotted Paula, tough to miss in her colorful leopard leggings and too-tight zebra-printed top. Her long black hair rippled like a cascading waterfall down her back each time she spoke to Adam, who stood next to her like a puppy dog, looking as if he hung on her every word.

Aunt Abby scooted up on her new electric scooter. She'd freshened her makeup, but had missed the imprint of her hand on her neck made from what I suspected was flour.

“Just in time!” I said, and leaned over to wipe off the evidence with my fingertips.

She hopped off the scooter, hit the kickstand, and looked up at Detective Shelton, who towered over my petite aunt. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope,” the detective said, smiling down at her. Never had there been a more mismatched pair.

“Good!” she exclaimed, more excited about the scarecrow contest than I expected. I looked at her suspiciously.

“You're really into this, aren't you?” I said.

There was a twinkle in her eye. Yep, she was up to something.

Tiffany appeared again from the tent, holding a microphone, followed by Crystal and J.J. I spotted Willow, who had apparently sneaked away from her coffee truck. She was waving to J.J., who blushed and gave a quick wave back. Huh. Had Willow already made a friend? She was an attractive girl, but country-boy J.J. didn't seem to be in city-girl Willow's league. Still, there definitely seemed to be an attraction between them, the way they were grinning at each other.

Tiffany shouldered her way to the front of the crowd and stood at the center of the designated area, holding the mic and ready to speak. To my surprise, in the moments she'd been gone, she managed to transform herself into a scarecrow and now wore a long patchwork dress with puffy sleeves, wild mismatched socks, and leather boots. Her hair was streaked in a rainbow of spray-on multicolored dyes and braided into two pigtails. She'd drawn on oversize eyelashes, perky eyebrows, and large freckles with a brown eyebrow pencil, and rouged her cheeks and lips with apple red lipstick. I couldn't decide if she looked like some kind of monstrous rag doll or mad clown, but it was a noticeable change from the fresh-faced young country girl she usually appeared to be.

She cleared her throat, then began. “Ladies and gentlemen, apple lovers from everywhere, welcome to
Apple Valley's Annual Scarecrow Contest!” The shy woman I'd met seemed to have come alive under that disguise.

Tiffany waved her hands to hush the eager applause. When the noise died down, she continued. “In a minute our ten human scarecrow contestants will be lining up along the side of the hay maze. I'll introduce each one by name and hold up the Clap-O-Meter, so you can clap for your favorite living scarecrow. The contestant who receives the loudest applause will win a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate to spend on anything here at the festival!”

Another roar of applause burst forth. Everyone, it seemed, was excited about the scarecrow contest.

“Oh, I'm so glad I didn't miss anything!” came another familiar voice behind me. I turned around to see Honey, her cheeks flushed, no doubt from rushing to the event.

“Honey!” Aunt Abby said, giving her friend a hug. “I was worried you weren't going to make it.”

“Wouldn't miss it!” Honey said. “I was over in the scarecrow tent, helping Red. Every year he enters the contest. You should see him.” She broke into smile. “He looks like he stepped right out of
The Wizard of
Oz
.”

“Red is dressed up like a scarecrow?” Aunt Abby asked, her sparkling eyes wide.

“Never misses this. Each year he comes up with something different, then sets the latest one up on the farm. He loves making scarecrows for his trees—it's kind of his hobby. He calls it his Orchard Army.”

“I didn't know scarecrows were used in tree orchards. I thought they were only in cornfields,” Aunt Abby said. “You can tell I'm not a country girl.”

Honey laughed. “Oh, scarecrows are a staple around here. I'm surprised you haven't noticed. And they really work, not just on crows, but all kinds of birds and wild animals that dig up the seeds, trample the seedlings, and eat the fruit off the trees. A lot of folks have switched to using aluminum ribbons that shimmer in the sun and scare the critters away, but Red is old school—and a little superstitious. Scarecrows are supposed to be supernatural. You'll find stories about them in everything from Nathanial Hawthorne's work, to comic books, to horror movies. There are scarecrow festivals and contests all over the country.”

“Wow,” I said. “I didn't realize how popular scarecrows are.” Thank goodness they weren't common in the city, I thought, or I'd be totally creeped out.

“Wait till you see the contestants competing today,” Honey said. “I got a preview inside the tent.”

Before she could tell us more details, Tiffany called for the crowd's attention again.

“All right, everyone! Are you ready for the scarecrow parade? Here they come!” Tiffany announced the contestants by their scarecrow names as they appeared from the tent and lined up along the side of the hay maze behind her. The standouts were a fisherman scarecrow named “Hodmedod,” a hatchet-wielding scarecrow named “Lusty Bordon,” a pirate
scarecrow named “Jack Scare-oh,” a bonneted, little old lady scarecrow named “Tattie Bogal,” and a really hideous zombie scarecrow named “Jeepers Creeper.”

“Which one is Red?” Aunt Abby asked Honey.

She blinked and strained her neck to see the contestants through the crowd in front of us. “I . . . I don't see him. . . . I wonder what happened. . . .”

“And now it's time to vote!” Tiffany announced through her mic.

I watched as she had J.J. hold the retro Clap-O-Meter next to each contestant. Every time the crowd clapped, the needle on the gizmo moved, measuring the amount of noise produced. Excitement seemed to be running high as each contestant was applauded.

One of the scarecrows I hadn't noticed before caught my eye. He—She? It?—was dressed in a green shirt and green tights, with a rope belt around its waist, and a red cape at its back. A hemp hood covered the scarecrow's head, with two eyeholes cut out. Straw stuck out from the ends of the sleeves, leggings, and hood. It was an odd interpretation of a scarecrow, and I wondered where the idea had come from.

Just as Tiffany announced the name of the mysterious scarecrow—“Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow from DC Comics”—I knew who it hid beneath that mask. But it wasn't the identity that gave it away—it was the familiar ratty tennis shoes.

“That's Dillon!” I shrieked to everyone around me.

“Where?” Aunt Abby asked.

I pointed. “Right in the middle of the scarecrows. Look at the shoes!”

“Oh my,” Aunt Abby said. “I didn't recognize my own son!”

Jake and Detective Shelton just shook their heads.

“I hope he wins!” Aunt Abby said, suddenly beaming with pride. “Everyone clap for him!”

Tiffany continued to hold the Clap-O-Meter next to Dillon, garnering him a nice loud applause. But as she moved on, I knew he had some stiff competition from Jack Scare-oh and Lusty Bordon.

After the last contestant received his Clap-O-Meter results, the crowd hushed. Tiffany held up the mic to announce the winner. “First, I want to thank all of our scarecrow contestants today. They did an outstanding job, didn't they?” More applause. “Now, for our winner. The one-hundred-dollar gift certificate goes to. . . .” She paused and looked around at the crowd. “Scarecrow number six—Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow!”

We cheered like rabid sports fans as Dillon was awarded his prize. Without removing his mask, he thanked Tiffany and accepted the gift certificate. I gave Aunt Abby a high five, then looked around to see everyone's reactions. That was when I noticed Honey had disappeared.

Figuring she'd gone to the scarecrow dressing room tent to find out what had happened to Red, I didn't give it another thought. I glanced back at Dillon, still holding the gift certificate, and noticed J.J. running up to Tiffany. When he reached her, he
whispered something in her ear. Willow watched him from a few feet away, frowning.

Tiffany's face went white when she heard what J.J. had to say, and she dropped the microphone. It landed on the hay-covered ground with a ping.

“Sheriff!” J.J. suddenly called out in our direction, his eyes wide.

Sheriff O'Neil shouldered through the crowd, followed by Detective Shelton. People nearby murmured as they began to realize something was up.

When the sheriff reached J.J. and Tiffany, the young man said something to him, then pointed toward the hay maze. J.J. started for the entrance, with the sheriff and detective right behind him.

“What's happening?” Aunt Abby said.

“I don't know,” I answered, puzzled. I glanced around for a clue, but everyone looked as confused as I did. I caught a glimpse of Tiffany disappearing into the scarecrow tent. There was no sign of Crystal, nor did I see Paula, Adam, Red, or Nathan.

While another young attendant kept the curious onlookers from entering the maze, we milled about, waiting for someone to tell us what was happening. Ten minutes later, J.J. and Detective Shelton came out of the hay maze entrance. J.J. looked wide-eyed while
the detective, his face a mask, was talking on his cell phone.

Aunt Abby hurried over to him. Jake and I followed.

“What's wrong? What happened?” Aunt Abby said after Detective Shelton hung up.

The detective spoke in a low, hushed voice to Jake. “Can you help that kid keep these people from going inside the maze?”

Jake nodded and began herding the crowd back from the entrance.

“Wes?” Aunt Abby persisted. “What's going on?”

The detective shook his head. “There's a body in the maze.”

Aunt Abby gasped. “Oh my. What happened?” she whispered.

The detective frowned. “I don't know. The sheriff called his crime scene guys and the coroner and told me to keep everyone away.”

“Any idea who it is?” I asked.

Detective Shelton shook his head.

“Man or woman?” I asked, trying to narrow it down.

“No idea,” the detective said.

I frowned at him. How could he not know if it was a man or a woman?

And then I got my answer.

“Whoever it is was dressed like a scarecrow.”

Detective Shelton ordered the festival closed, per Sheriff O'Neil's wishes, and asked the college students working the hay maze to help steer people home. Only those of us who knew either Detective Shelton or Sheriff O'Neil were allowed to remain. Jake, Abby, Dillon, and I wandered over to a nearby picnic table and sat down to wait for further developments. Dillon was still dressed as a scarecrow but had removed the mask and the hay that had been sticking out of his sleeves and pant legs. He looked ridiculous in those tights.

“Has anyone seen Red?” Honey asked, reappearing from the scarecrow tent. She looked a little frantic and was obviously worried about her friend.

We shook our heads. “I'm sure he'll turn up,” Aunt Abby said.

“You might ask the sheriff,” I suggested.

Honey scanned the area and spotted Sheriff O'Neil talking with Detective Shelton. She headed over and I followed her, curious about the man's whereabouts myself.

“Sheriff,” Honey began, “Red's gone! He signed up for the Scarecrow Contest but didn't show up. I even helped him get ready. How could he have disappeared so quickly?” She glanced around again, her face knotted with anxiety.

“Sorry, Honey,” Sheriff O'Neil said. “Haven't seen him. We've been kinda busy here.” He nodded toward the hay maze. “I can tell you this much—he's not the one lying dead inside.”

Honey's face visibly relaxed, but only momentarily. “Then where could he be? Nobody's seen him since I left him in the dressing room tent.”

She shook her head, mumbled something, then went off in search of him, worry embedded in her face again.

After she left, I noticed Crystal and Tiffany were huddled by the entrance to the maze. They too looked anxious, no doubt for news as to the identity of the dead body. Tiffany bit her nails while Crystal rubbed her daughter's back.

Paula seemed to have disappeared completely, and I wondered where she'd gone—and why. Apparently this wasn't the photo op she was looking for. Meanwhile, Adam stood alone at a distance, a frown on his leathery face. Several other scarecrow contestants had gathered by the tent, talking and shaking their heads and probably wondering who the dead
scarecrow was. But the victim couldn't have been among the contestants. He—or she—must have died before the contest began.

Moments later several of the sheriff's deputies arrived, along with paramedics and the coroner. The deputies continued the job of clearing the festival area of looky-loos while the paramedics and coroner rushed into the maze, guided by J.J. Jake had mentioned that most of the kids who worked at the maze knew its twists and turns by heart and could rescue anyone who became seriously lost. Wish I'd known that earlier.

“There's Honey!” Aunt Abby pointed at Honey and Red, who were headed our way. Red, looking a little dazed, was still dressed as a scarecrow, while Honey was smiling and holding on to Red's arm as if he was keeping her upright.

“You found him!” Aunt Abby said, sliding over on the picnic bench so Honey could have a seat. But Honey remained standing, still clutching on to her scarecrow. Red's costume featured a tattered tux, full of patched holes and stitched tears. He wore a top hat with a large stuffed crow perched on top, and I wondered if that was actually supposed to scare away other crows, or attract them.

“I'm so relieved,” Honey said, patting her chest. “He'd gone to the restroom and missed the whole contest! Can you believe it?”

Red blushed and grinned. “Oh well. I won last year. It was time for someone else to take home the
prize. I heard you came in first place, young man,” he said to Dillon.

Dillon nodded and waved the certificate.

“What are you going to spend it on?” Red asked.

Dillon shrugged.

“Well, save a little for some of my caramel apples,” Red said. “They're the best in the West. I've got 'em covered in nuts, sprinkles, candy, coconut, dark chocolate, white chocolate, and anything else you can think of. With your winnings you could sample one of each!” Red seemed either unaware or uninterested in the discovery of the dead body.

Dillon mumbled something unintelligible and Red nodded as if he'd understood him. Before I could kick Dillon under the table for his rudeness, Honey caught her breath.

“The sheriff's back!” she said. She quickly let go of Red's arm and headed for the lawman who'd just appeared from inside the hay maze. We got up and followed her over, eager to hear what he had to say. Tiffany and her mother joined us.

“Murph!” Honey said. “Did you find out what happened?”

“Who is it?” Tiffany demanded, after pulling her finger from her mouth.

Crystal patted her daughter's back.

“Was it an accident?” Aunt Abby asked. “A heart attack?”

“Calm down, everyone.” Sheriff O'Neil took a deep breath. “It seems we've had another murder.”

“What?” Honey said, her hand covering her mouth. “Who? How?”

The sheriff shook his head, then finally said, “It's weird. His mouth was stuffed with apple seeds.”

Honey's eyes widened. “You can't be serious!”

Aunt Abby frowned. “You mean, he choked to death on a mouthful of seeds?”

Honey shot her a look. “Apple seeds are poisonous.”

“Was that the cause of death?” I asked.

“No,” the sheriff said. “Apple seeds are only poisonous if ingested. Plus, it would take a lot. I think that was symbolic.”

“Symbolic? So he wasn't poisoned?” Aunt Abby asked.

“Actually he was stabbed,” the sheriff answered.

Honey looked ready to faint and grabbed Red's arm.

“Stabbed? With what?” Red asked.

The sheriff locked eyes with him. “As a matter of fact, it was a sharp-pointed stick.”

Red frowned. “What kind of stick? Like a tree branch or something?”

“No, the kind you use in making caramel apples, Red,” the sheriff said solemnly.

“Wait a minute,” Red said. “You don't think—”

“I don't think anything, right now,” the sheriff answered. “But I do have a lot of questions.”

Tiffany spoke up. “You keep saying
he
. Do you know who he was?”

The sheriff's frown deepened. “I'm sorry to tell you this, but the victim was our own Nathan Chapman.”

•   •   •

Deputy Bonita Javier came over to the sheriff and whispered something in his ear while we stood in stunned silence, watching.

The sheriff nodded. “Adam? Red? My deputy says you saw Chapman about an hour before the contest. Any idea what happened?”

“Sorry, Sheriff,” Red said. “I was indisposed.” He put finger quotes around the last word.

Adam shook his head. “I haven't seen him since he announced the contest. And then I only heard his voice. You might ask Paula. She seemed interested in him all of a sudden.”

The sheriff nodded and looked at the rest of us. “Anyone else see him in the last few hours?”

Tiffany slowly raised her hand, her eyes now rimmed with tears. Her mother tried to pull her daughter's hand back down, but the sheriff wrote Tiffany's name in his notebook. “Crystal?” he said to the woman. “How about you?”

She shook her head. “I haven't seen Nathan for hours. I was in the scarecrow tent, helping with costumes and makeup and what not. Tiffany was in there with me most of the time too, weren't you, Tiff?”

Tiffany turned to her mother. “Mama, I
told
you I saw him, and I need to tell the sheriff. Don't you understand? Somebody killed him!” She began weeping and covered her face with her hands.

“She's sensitive,” Crystal said to Sheriff O'Neil,
wrapping an arm around her distraught daughter. “If anything bad happens, she dissolves into tears.” She guided Tiffany over to a picnic table and sat her down on the bench.

The sheriff looked at the rest of us standing nearby. “All right, anyone
else
see or talk to Nathan Chapman in the last couple of hours?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Paula backing away from the gathered group. I hadn't noticed her earlier and figured she must have crept up to find out what was going on. Apparently the sheriff saw her too. He looked down at his notebook, then called out, “Ms. Hayashi?”

Paula froze. “What? I had nothing to do with this. I can't hang around here while you people decide who killed that guy.”

“But you
do
need to tell the sheriff that you were talking to Nathan earlier,” I blurted, then wished I hadn't, noting the stinging look she shot me. Still, he needed to know. I had seen Paula not just talking to Nathan Chapman, but obviously flirting with him.

“Shut up,” Paula snapped at me. “You didn't see anything, because I never saw the guy.”

I met her vicious gaze and frowned. Why was she lying? “Paula, I'm not the only one who saw you.” I glanced at Tiffany, remembering the spat she'd had with Nathan, then decided not to bring her into it. “Willow, the coffee girl, also saw you flirting with him.” Willow could give the sheriff her eyewitness account.

“I wasn't flirting!” Paula huffed. “And I certainly
didn't hang around and kill him. I had no reason to. He was a hick, just like the rest of you.”

Honey murmured something I couldn't make out. The sheriff glanced at his notebook, then said, “You might have had a reason, Ms. Hayashi.”

Paula's eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“How about that promotion you'll receive at Eden Corporation after your boss's death?” the sheriff asked.

Paula shrugged. “Well, sure, now that Reub—I mean, Roman is gone. But that just means more work for me.”

Honey pointed to Paula, her eyes wide. “That certainly gives her a motive to murder Roman!”

“Well, I didn't do it!” Paula said emphatically, but I thought I saw a crack in her tough facade.

“Honey's right. You did have motive,” the sheriff said.

“Why? So I could take over his job?” Paula said, shaking her head. “He was on the way out already. It was just a matter of time.”

“Maybe you wanted to hurry things along,” the sheriff said.

“But why would I kill Nathan?” Paula asked. “I had nothing to gain. Besides, anyone could have stabbed him with that apple stick. They're probably all over the place. Why don't you ask Honey what she and Nathan were arguing about the other night at the bed-and-breakfast. You want a motive? She's got enough for two murders.”

Sheriff O'Neil turned to Honey, who looked stricken.

“I . . . I told you,” Honey muttered. “We were just discussing the GMO apple situation and trying to figure out what to do about it. Red was thinking of selling, while I was against it. Then Nathan seemed to be weakening. . . .”

Odd. I thought she'd said they'd been discussing the festival.

“Not the way I heard it from Nathan,” Paula said, raising an accusing eyebrow. “He said he told you he was going to sell his land to Eden Corporation, and you threw a hissy fit, told him you'd do anything to stop anyone else who might be thinking of selling. That's the truth, isn't it, little miss innocent?”

“I . . . I . . . would never kill anyone,” Honey said. She glanced at Red, who was frowning.

Aunt Abby put an arm around Honey, but the woman shook it off. It wasn't looking good for Honey, but then again, Paula didn't look so innocent either.

“You're just trying to make it look like I killed Roman to cover your tracks,” Honey said, turning her wrath on Paula, “and now you're accusing
me
of killing my friend Nathan just because we had a little spat?” She looked back at the sheriff. “It's all lies, Murph. These city big shots come into our county and try to take over our businesses, but they aren't going to get away with it, right, Red?”

Red looked helplessly at Honey. Doubt was written across his face. Did he think the woman he loved was possibly guilty of two murders?

The sheriff dug into his pocket and brought out a plastic baggie. Inside was a red bandanna. He carefully took the bandanna out of the bag, holding it by the tip of one corner. “I found this near Nathan's body,” the sheriff said. “Do you recognize it, Honey?”

Honey's face want pale. “It's not mine, if that's what you're implying. Look around. Almost all of the scarecrows use bandannas as part of their costumes.” She glanced at Red, who had his hand on the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt. He pulled his hand away quickly. It appeared empty. Had there been a bandanna in his chest pocket?

“Where's your bandanna, Red?” Sheriff O'Neil asked.

Apparently struck speechless, Red just shrugged.

“There was something stuck to this bandanna,” the sheriff continued. He held up the plastic bag. At the bottom were two tiny black seeds.

Apple seeds.

“Can I check your pocket, Red?”

“Sure,” Red said, stepping forward. He pulled open his pocket and let the sheriff dig around inside. “Nothing, see?”

The sheriff stepped back. “Honey, I need to see your pockets.”

“Why?” she said, covering the pockets of her pants with her hands.

“Deputy?” the sheriff said, nodding to Deputy Bonita Javier. The woman went over to Honey and gently slid Honey's hands away from covering her pockets. “Is there anything in your pockets that could poke me—needles, knives, anything like that?” the deputy asked.

“Of course not!” Honey said.

The deputy slowly reached into one of Honey's pockets and came out empty. She reached into the other one, dug around, and again pulled out an empty hand.

Then she held up one finger. A black seed was caught just under her fingernail.

The sheriff looked at Honey, clearly disappointed. “Honey, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in for questioning.”