Fruit of All Evil (13 page)

Jeanine lived closer to Madeline's estate than to my farm, but she wasn't one of the rich people. Her land had been in her family a long time, and the property was small and hidden from the main road, which was only a two-lane state highway.

Sam had turned on his flashing lights but kept the siren off. There wasn't much traffic, and he was extra cautious going through intersections. Even though we were in a hurry because we were worried about a friend, I was having a blast.

In record time he turned onto the narrow dirt road that led to Jeanine's farm. The Charger handled the bumps much better than my old truck would have, and in a few seconds Sam maneuvered the car to a stop in front of Jeanine's house.

“Stay here, Becca,” he said in a firm tone. I nodded, knowing I shouldn't argue.

The inside of the car became heavy with quiet once Sam disappeared into Jeanine's house.

The house was old, in need of paint, and there was a crack in one of the front windows. There was a small front yard with mowed grass and no weeds. The patch of green stood out against the drab house and the dirt area behind the fence to the left of it.

Jeanine's house seemed very empty. The long moments ticked by as I waited for Sam to reappear.

Suddenly, a flash of movement appeared to the left of the house and atop an old fence post. I didn't know much about chickens, but I was fairly certain that a rooster had just jumped or flown to the top of the post. The bird had a bright red crest on its head; its body was mostly dark with a splash of orange on its wings.

“Hello, there,” I muttered quietly. “Where are all your friends?”

As if to answer my question, another bird, all white, appeared from behind the side of the house and paced the ground underneath the rooster. And then another one appeared. And then a few more. Before long, the entire area was full of chickens.

“I guess that's one mystery solved,” I said, and got out of the car just as Sam came out the front door.

“Did you find Jeanine?” I asked.

“No, but we found the chickens.”

“Were they hiding?”

“Sort of. There's a coop in the back—some were in there—but there's a whole other area behind the coop. Officer Norton thought the property ended after the coop, so she didn't look any further. The chickens were behind the coop and couldn't get through what looks like an accidental barrier made by some fallen rocks. It was strange.”

“Ms. Robins,” Officer Norton said as she walked out the front door. She looked embarrassed but was attempting to hide it. “How are you today?”

“Fine, thanks. You?”

“Fine. Excuse me.” She continued past us and went to look over the fence into the chicken yard. She put her hands on her hips, and I understood why people call wellmuscled arms “guns.” She had some of the most amazing guns I'd ever seen.

“She's the one who actually found them,” Sam said, “just as I joined her out back.”

I nodded. I was the last person to criticize someone for jumping to an assumption. “Can I go in and look around?”

Sam rubbed a finger under his nose. His eyes narrowed as he said, “You can walk around with me. This is not standard procedure, mind you—in fact, it's downright stupid of me to do—but if you don't touch anything, you can look around. Let me know if you see something I should look at. I'm worried about Jeanine. According to your sister, her behavior today is something she's never done before. She might just be out running errands, but the chickens being loose when we got here bothers me. I'd like to find her. Any ideas that occur to you would be helpful.”

The outside of Jeanine's house might need some work, but the inside was just fine. The small front room had a matching chair and couch, done in country blues and reds, that faced a modern flat-screen television. The only messy part of the room was a desk stacked with paperwork and what looked like coin wrappers. I stepped toward it for a closer look.

“Don't touch anything, Becca. Just tell me if anything looks curious.”

I nodded as I peered at invoices, bills, and coin wrappers. Other than the wrappers, the desk looked like a smaller version of my dining table. There was no laptop anywhere, but that wasn't so unusual for someone who had been farming all her life.

From the desk, I could either take a doorway directly to my left, into the kitchen, or the hallway farther to my left, to the rest of the house. First, I went into the kitchen; it had a round antique table and chairs, but everything else in the room was modern: shiny stainless steel appliances and a polished wood floor.

The room was clean and tidy, with only a coffeemaker and a toaster on the counters.

“Sam, what am I looking for?”

“Something that doesn't look right.”

“That's not very helpful.”

“You'll know when you see it. I searched the house. There's no evidence that there was any sort of struggle, no evidence that Jeanine left in a hurry or against her will. Her purse—or bag, whichever—isn't here, so she must have taken it with her. You know Jeanine; you might be able to sense something . . . off.”

The hall led directly to a small bathroom. There were bedrooms on each side of the bathroom. One was small and the other was smaller, but they were clean; beds were made, and there was no dust anywhere.

“She's a very clean and neat person,” I observed aloud. “But I don't see anything that tells me more than that.”

I followed Sam back through the kitchen and out a back door that took us directly to all the chickens.

“Whoa, chickens stink,” I said as I reached for my nose.

“Yes, but did you smell it before you came back here?”

“Not so much.”

“Me either. That surprised me. I checked the coop; nothing but chickens laying eggs in there,” Sam said as he pointed at the wooden structure on the other side of the yard. “The accidental rock wall is behind it. I have no idea how they got back there or who stopped them from coming into the yard, but if it was Jeanine, she's not going to be happy we let them back in.”

“Why did you?”

“It didn't look like there was a fence on the other side, and I wondered why the rocks were there.”

“Can chickens be herded?” I asked, wondering how in the world someone could get what looked like hundreds of creatures in the yard to go anywhere they didn't want to go.

“I don't know, but I imagine they'll follow food anywhere.”

“That's probably true.”

“Officer Norton will check the rocks for any sort of evidence, but who knows what that will turn up? Seems like a long shot.”

I looked at Sam as he surveyed the chickens without holding his nose. He was looking at the same things I was looking at, but I knew he saw much more than I did. I didn't think it would ever occur to me to consider that the chickens had been put someplace they didn't belong.

“Okay, Sam, what's up? You took me for a high-speed ride in your car. You're letting me walk around a potential crime scene. What's going on? Why are you letting me do this stuff?”

“First, this really isn't a potential crime scene—unless we consider it a potential crime against the chickens—but there isn't anything on the books that I can reference.” He smiled. “And they weren't harmed. We're looking for Jeanine. If there'd been signs of a struggle in the house, I wouldn't have let you go in. Second, maybe we were going faster than your truck can go, but I've made police cars go a lot faster, so really we didn't get here at high speed. And finally, like I've told you before, Becca, you have good instincts.” He looked purposefully away from me and observed Officer Norton high-stepping her way back through the chicken yard. She held a black container high and mumbled mean words to the noisy birds that clucked and pecked around her. “Besides, you'd have come out here later today on your own. Am I right?”

“Yeth.” I said, still holding my nose.

“Saved you the trouble. Come on, Officer Norton's got this handled. I'll get you back to Bailey's. I don't think Jeanine's come to any harm, but I'd sure like to know where she is.”

I looked around one more time as I followed Sam back through the kitchen and the living room, then out the front door. As I stood in front of the small house, I focused on my gut, my instincts. But nothing happened. I had nothing I could share with Sam.

Suddenly, a sound came from down the dirt road in front of the house. Sam and I hurried to the edge of the lawn, Sam motioning me to stay behind him. We both hoped the sound was attached to Jeanine's van and that she was returning to her house.

But it wasn't Jeanine. Instead, for the second time that day, I saw Drew's Honda making its way toward me, stirring up a dust cloud and griming the hood.

“Sam, that's Drew's car.”

The Honda pulled to a slow stop and Sam approached it. Once the dust cleared, the driver's window was rolled down.

“Officer Brion?” Alan said. “Becca?”

“Yes, Mr. Cummings. Can I help you with something?” Sam asked.

“Uh . . .” Clearly, Alan was unsure what to say next. There was nothing wrong with driving down a dirt road and minding your own business, but it was strange that he'd picked this particular dirt road. “Well, I came out to talk to Jeanine Baker.”

“Really? About what?” Sam asked as I crossed my arms in front of myself. This was too weird for my comfort.

“I wanted to talk to her about buying her land.”

I couldn't restrain myself. “That doesn't seem likely.”

Sam's look told me I'd probably just ruined his desire to take me anywhere again.

“Mr. Cummings, did you have an appointment to talk to Jeanine?” Sam asked.

“No, I was just stopping by,” he said, sounding too innocent.

“When's the last time you saw her?”

“Uh, well, actually, we haven't met in person.”

“Do you know where else she might be?”

“Doesn't she work with you at Bailey's, Becca?”

I nodded. Finally, my instincts were kicking in, and they were telling me how much I didn't like this guy. Jeanine would never sell this land. It had been in her family forever.

“Yes, she does work there, but she's not here. We're not exactly sure where she is, but if you hear from her, would you give me a call?” Sam said.

I didn't tell him that she hadn't shown up at Bailey's today.

“Sure. I hope she's all right.”

“We do, too.”

“Okay, well, I suppose I'll be on my way, then.”

Alan did a U-turn and left in another cloud of dust.

“Sam, that was strange.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? He stopped at my house today, and now at Jeanine's. Both places he inquired about land for sale. Mine isn't, and I know Jeanine would never in a million years sell hers.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Becca, we need evidence. Honestly, though it is a coincidence, I didn't see anything wrong with what you said that Alan said to you. And if Jeanine was planning on selling her land—which you don't know for sure she wasn't—there's nothing strange about him driving by and talking to her about it. Coincidences.”

But I just
knew
something wasn't right. “Originally, you were looking for Jeanine to find out why she was on Madeline's call list, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why would Madeline Forsyth call Jeanine Baker? They weren't friends. I can't think of two more different people. There must have been some banking issue.”

“Maybe,” Sam said as he looked down the road. Alan had disappeared.

An idea occurred to me. “Sam, we've got to go through the papers on her desk.
Maybe
she has something there that could tell us more.”

He hesitated, but only briefly. “Let's go.”

Upon closer look, it was obvious that the multiple stacks on Jeanine's desk were organized. There was one stack for bills, one for invoices for her customers, one for junk that she probably wasn't ready to throw away yet, and then, of course, the coin wrappers.

There were the normal utility bills and two credit card bills, both of which revealed that Jeanine kept low-tonothing balances. There didn't seem to be any statements for liens or mortgages on her land or house. The invoices didn't shed much light either. Jeanine had a number of customers, mostly small grocery stores that she delivered fresh eggs to on a regular basis. This, along with her Bailey's business, probably made for a good living. We had to open the drawers to find the bank statements, which were organized and filed by month.

I would never want someone to know how much money I had in my accounts, so I felt guilty for even peering at one of the statements, but it seemed important, especially since the envelopes they were stored in had Madeline's bank, Central Savings and Loan's, logo on them.

“It's such a small town that they probably knew each other, though not very well,” I said as I unfolded a statement.

“Well, judging by Jeanine's balance, I'm sure that Madeline at least knew who she was,” Sam added.

The statement showed that Jeanine had lots of money in her checking account. So much that I wondered if maybe she'd just decided to drive off, retire, and leave the chickens to fend for themselves. Her most recent statement showed a balance in the mid-six figures.

“I'll have to check with the bank to see if she's withdrawn any money,” Sam said, echoing my thoughts.

“There's lots of money in eggs,” I declared as I looked closer, my guilt replaced by surprise and curiosity. Chickens might stink, but Jeanine had made a comfortable living from the creatures.