The Final Tap (19 page)

thirty-two

Inside my office, I
removed my cell phone from my pocket and stared at it.

“Are you going to call her?” Chase asked.

I hadn't realized it, but Chase had followed me into the tiny room. The space was close when I was there alone. With Chase in the room, it seemed to shrink to an eighth of its normal size.

“I know I should. I have new information that could crack open Dr. Beeson's murder, but …”

“But you want to check it out for yourself.” He smiled.

“Is it that obvious?”

He nodded. “What do you know?”

I told him what I'd learned from my father about Buckley's misuse of college funds.

He adjusted his medical bag on his shoulder. “That sounds like a pretty good motive to me.”

“I know,” I agreed. I started to search my phone for Detective Brandon's number.

Chase crossed the tiny room in one stride and wrapped his large hand around my hand holding the phone. “I have an idea. Candy will kill me for saying this, but why don't we run over to the college to talk to Buckley, and we'll call Candy when we get there. It'll give us just enough time to talk to him before she shows. When she does, she can take it from there.”

“This could work if Buckley's there. It's Saturday.”

“It's worth a shot.” Chase wiggled his eyebrows. “I know you want to take a crack at him before Candy digs her claws in. He's not going to say a word when she arrives, but he might talk to you.”

I removed my hand from his grasp and looked him up and down. “You're dressed as a Union medic. Don't you think you would stick out on a college campus?”

“College students need a little culture too. I'll leave my musket here.” He removed the gun from his shoulder and leaned it again the wall.

“That's a relief. Let's go.”

Before we left, I radioed Benji with an excessive number of “overs” to make sure she had everything she needed for the festival. I hated to leave the grounds in the middle of such a big event for the Farm, but this conversation with Buckley might be exactly what I needed to clear Gavin of any wrongdoing.

Chase offered to drive his truck to the college, but as soon as we were on the road, I wished I'd insisted on driving. Maybe it would distract me from my thoughts—not about murder, but about Eddie and Krissie's wedding. Even when Chase called Detective Brandon to tell her where we were going and why, I only half listened because I was so preoccupied by my conversation with Krissie.

“Ready to talk about it yet?” Chase asked after ending the call with the detective.

I sighed. “It's complicated.”

“I'm good with complicated.” His voice was kind.

Before I could stop myself, it all came out in a rush: Krissie's plans to have the wedding at Barton Farm and Hayden's custody.

“I never liked Krissie,” Chase said.

I laughed. “You don't have to say that just for me.”

“I mean it. She's fake. I've always thought so. I prefer people who are real.” He paused. “Like you. You don't have to run all over town to solve this murder. You're not a suspect. You don't have to do this, but you are, because you care about Gavin.” He turned into the parking lot next to the greenhouse.

“You don't have to be doing it either,” I said.

“No.” He winked at me. “But I enjoy spending time with you, and if you got hurt when I could have been there, I would never forgive myself. I should have been there last night when the Hoopers dropped by.”

I was saved from responding, because as Chase shifted the truck into park, Buckley strode out of the building.

“Stay here and call the detective again,” I said. “I'll stall him.” I didn't give Chase time to argue as I jumped out of the truck. I approached the professor at a fast walk. “Buckley!”

He turned, holding a box of seedlings in his hands. “Ms. Cambridge, I'm surprised to see you here. Don't you have a big event going on at Barton Farm today?”

I forced a smile. “I do.”

“Then to what do I owe this visit?”

“I'd like to talk to you.”

Behind me, I heard the door of Chase's truck slam closed and the crunch of his footsteps on the gravel lot.

Buckley looked over my shoulder. “Is there a reason you brought a Civil War soldier with you?”

“This is Chase Wyatt. He's a friend of mine, and he was at the Maple Sugar Festival today,” I said, as if that justified Chase's presence.

The horticulture professor looked from Chase to me and back again. “That's all very well, but it still doesn't explain why you're here.”

“I want to talk to you about Dr. Beeson,” I said.

He shook his head. “I don't have any more to say.” He started walking in the direction of the only other car in the parking lot besides Chase's truck.

“I know Dr. Beeson found out about you pocketing money from the horticulture department's budget,” I called.

He spun around. “Who told you that?”

“A student overheard you and Dr. Beeson arguing about it and told my father, after the murder. Was Beeson going to blackmail you to keep your secret?” I asked.

Buckley gripped the sides of the plastic container holding the plants so tightly the sides bent inward. “I don't have to answer any of your questions. You don't know what you're talking about.”

Three cars pulled into the parking lot. The first was a campus security vehicle, the second I recognized as the detective's SUV, and a police cruise brought up the rear.

Buckley's mouth fell open. “You called the police?”

“She didn't,” Chase said. “I did.”

Detective Brandon was the first person out of the vehicles. “Arnold Buckley, you're under arrest for the murder of Conrad Beeson.”

“This is outrageous!” Buckley cried. “I didn't do anything. You have no proof.”

“I have enough,” the detective said.

Officer Sonders came out of his cruiser holding handcuffs. Detective Brandon gave him a slight nod, and he moved toward Buckley with the handcuffs in his hands.

Still holding the seedlings, Buckley took a big step backward. “I admit that I was stealing from the college, but I didn't kill anyone.”

The campus security guard took the box of plants from Buckley. I noticed that Buckley's hands shook as Officer Sonders fastened the cuffs around his wrists. I bit the inside of my lip. Something about this felt wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it … Buckley had a motive. He might have even had the best motive—Beeson had the power to ruin his career. But doubt nagged at the back of my mind.

Buckley glared at me. “I didn't do it. I'm telling you, I didn't. Wasn't he stabbed? I didn't stab anyone! I only stopped to talk to him. I wanted to talk some sense into him about the money I borrowed from the department. I never touched him. He bent over like he was having a heart attack, and I left. I didn't help him, but I swear that I didn't stab him either.”

Officer Sonders grabbed him by the arm and marched him toward the squad car. “This way, please.”

After the officer slammed the door closed on Buckley, Detective Brandon walked over to Chase and me. I was sure she noticed Chase's outfit, but she made no comment on it. “Thanks for your help, Ms. Cambridge, but we'd already come to the conclusion that Arnold Buckley was our killer. We were just waiting for the final piece of the puzzle—the motive. You provided that for us.” She frowned. “You should have called me as soon as you learned he'd stolen from the department and not tried to talk to him yourself first. You could have ruined everything. Buckley might have gotten away, and it would've been your fault.”

Chase folded his arms. “Candy, that's not fair. You wouldn't have arrested Buckley this soon if it hadn't been for Kelsey.”

She scowled at him.

“How did you know it was him?” I managed to ask.

“Your friends the Hooper boys.”

“They aren't my friends,” I said.

“Regardless, they saw Arnold Buckley running through the woods the morning of the murder. He was headed back to the sugarhouse in the middle of the park. They thought it would be funny to follow him for a little while. He'd parked his car on an access to road to the park. He went straight to it and drove away. One of my officers is there now, looking for tracks to compare to Buckley's tires. Contrary to what you might believe, I do know how to do my job.”

“So Gavin is no longer a suspect,” I said.

“He's not.” She said this almost grudgingly.

I blew out a breath. “I knew he couldn't have done it. I knew it.”

Detective Brandon glared at me. “You may think you know Gavin Elliot, but he is capable of violent crime.”

“
H-huh
?” I stuttered, surprised by her anger.

“You might want to ask him about his juvenile record then. He was charged and convicted for assault when he was fifteen.”

“What?” I demanded.

Chase frowned. “I thought juvenile records are closed.”

Her eyes slid in his direction. “I can still get access to them if I talk to the right people.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Since he's no longer part of this case, it's not my place to say.” Detective Brandon shook her head. “You'll have to ask Gavin if you want the story. I've already said more than I should. You should know, Kelsey Cambridge, that you can't put blind faith in a man just because you have a feeling he is incapable of a crime. Everyone is capable of the most terrible things.”

“I can't believe that,” I said.

“Suit yourself, but be warned.” She leveled her gaze at Chase. “You'll only be disappointed.” She stomped away.

thirty-three

Back at the Farm,
I jumped out of Chase's truck and slammed the door. My head was spinning with everything I'd learned in the last hour.

Chase came around the side of the truck and studied me. “What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy that Gavin's off the hook for the murder?”

I frowned. “I am, but I can't help believing that the police might be wrong. Buckley denied stabbing Dr. Beeson, and he owned up to everything else.”

“He's being dragged off to jail. He'd say anything to be let go.”

“Maybe …”

“Kelsey!” Benji met me at the door to the visitor center. “I'm so glad that you're back.”

“What?” I asked a little too sharply. “Did something happen? Why didn't you call my cell phone?”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “It wasn't an emergency. At least I don't think so.”

“Benji, what is it?” What remained of my patience had been lost outside of the college's greenhouse.

“Henry and Denise from the Cherry Foundation are here.” She said this barely above a whisper. “Henry didn't seem very happy when I told them that you left the Farm.”

Terrific.

I followed Benji into the visitor center and found Henry and Denise sitting at one of the round tables eating pancakes drizzled with maple syrup.

Denise smiled at me. “Kelsey, this is truly a lovely event, and these pancakes are marvelous. They remind me of the ones that my grandmother used to make. The maple syrup does too. I don't believe I mentioned before that my grandfather used to tap the sugar maples on his land. I wished that my family had kept that tradition alive.”

“The praise for the pancakes goes to Alice, the Farm's head cook. I'll be sure to tell her you liked them.” I smiled.

“I'll drop by the kitchen before I leave and tell her myself. They kept us busy while we waited for you. That sweet Benji made sure we had enough to eat.”

Henry cleared his throat. “I have to say I was quite surprised to find you absent on such an important day for the Farm.”

“I had an errand in town. It didn't take long, and as you can see, my staff has done a wonderful job running things in my absence.”

“It seems to be well in hand,” he admitted.

“I told Henry there was nothing to worry about where the Farm was concerned,” Denise said.

Henry turned his scowl on Denise.

“It looks like you're finished with your pancakes,” I said as a teenager came by with a tray and cleared away their empty plates. “Would you like to see the sugarhouse first?”

Denise stood up. “We would. I haven't been inside of one since I was a girl.”

Henry wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I believe it's important that we inspect all aspects of your Maple Sugar Festival, including the trailer where your farmhand Jason is living. It's the reason we're here.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Of course, but the sugarhouse is closer and it's the best introduction to the festival.”

Henry looked like he wanted to argue with me, but Denise said, “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

“This way.” I headed for the doors leading to the Farm. It wasn't until the two board members followed me outside that I realized Chase had slipped away. I glanced around. I really hadn't expected him to stay at my side all day, but it surprised me that he'd left without saying something.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Cambridge?” Henry asked.

“No. Everything's fine.” As we walked down the pebbled path to the sugarhouse, I pointed out the pails and spiles hanging from the trees. “We're quite lucky the temperature rose enough for the sap to run. I think the visitors really do like to see the sugaring process in action.”

Denise peered through the slim opening between a pail and its lid. “I can see the sap dripping. It looks just like water.”

“It's mostly water,” I said. “It's boiled to remove excess water and be turned into maple syrup.”

“It doesn't seem to be coming very fast,” she mused.

“I think patience is the greatest virtue of a tree tapper.” I continued down the path.

Denise matched my stride. “This is just wonderful, Kelsey. Between this and the Civil War reenactment, I know you would make Cynthia proud. Don't you think so, Henry?”

Henry refrained from comment. Perhaps he was from the school of
if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all
.

We walked in silence, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the festival as we headed on the path into the trees.

When the sugarhouse came into view, Henry said, “I question your methods, Ms. Cambridge, but I do see that you're getting results. It appears that the guests at the Farm today are having an enjoyable t—”

“Look out!” A cry from further down the path interrupted him.

Visitors wandering among the trees and inspecting the maple sugar pails jumped out of the way as a ball of fluff raced through the woods.

I jumped in front of the animal. “Tiffin! Stop!”

My dog froze in the middle of the path and panted. Hayden and Gavin stopped a few paces behind him and doubled over to catch their breath. Krissie came down the path at a much slower pace.

“What on earth is going on?” Henry wanted to know.

Of course, my perfectly behaved corgi would misbehave when Henry was visiting the Farm on behalf of the Cherry Foundation.

“I'm sure everything is fine,” I said to Henry and Denise.

I walked over to Tiffin. He looked up at me with his soulful brown eyes. A thick layer of maple syrup covered his head and back. It ran down his long nose.

“I'm so sorry about this, Kelsey,” Gavin said, panting almost as much as Tiffin. “It's my fault. Tiffin ran into the sugarhouse and I wasn't watching where I was going as I was moving a gallon bucket of maple syrup. I tripped over him and doused the poor guy.”

I knelt next to the dog. “Was it hot? He could be burnt.”

“No,” Gavin said quickly. “It was the batch I made yesterday during the school visit. It was cool.” He frowned. “Just really sticky.”

That was an understatement. Tiffin's thick fur was matted into clumps, and dirt, sticks, and leaves, which he must have picked up during his sprint through the forest, clung to him like Velcro. “I can see that.”

“I'm sorry, Mom.” Hayden worried his lip. “I know Tiff isn't supposed to go inside the old buildings. You tell me that. All the time.”

A giggle bubbled up inside me and before I knew it I was bent over trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard. Compared to what else I'd dealt with that week, Tiffin's predicament seemed so incredibly funny.

The corgi gave me a hurt expression. I knelt next to him on the forest floor. “I'm sorry, boy.” I patted the part of his head free of maple syrup. “All he needs is a warm bath.”

“I can do it,” Gavin said. “This is my fault, really. I should be the one to give him a bath.”

“What about the sugarhouse?” I asked.

“A couple of the reenactors are there now. They'll be fine until I get back.”

I glanced back at Henry and Denise, who were speaking in hushed tones under the trees. “Okay.” I removed my keys from my pocket and detached my cottage key from the ring. “You can use the bathroom in the cottage. Try not to make a huge mess.” My bathroom was doomed.

“I can help!” Hayden shouted with an enthusiasm I found suspicious.

“We need to get going, Hayden,” Krissie said. “You can give Tiffin a bath another day. Your father's waiting for us.”

Hayden frowned. “But he's my dog. He's my responsibility.”

“Hayden, it's time that we went home.” Krissie smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

My chest tightened when she said “home.” It was Hayden's home, but I felt his real home was here on Barton Farm with me.

“Remember what we talked about.” Krissie smiled brightly at me.

I glanced over at Henry and Denise to see that they were still engrossed in their own conversation. “I've thought about it, and the answer is no.”

Her mouth fell open. “But the custody.”

I shook my head and cut her off. “That's between Eddie and me. I'll talk with him about it in court if need be.”

She put her hands on her narrow hips. “You aren't going to stop me. I always get my way.”

“Not this time.” I stepped around her. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”

She wrapped her arm around Hayden and steered him away. It took everything in me not to run after them and take my son back.

I smiled brightly at the members of the Cherry Foundation. “Are you ready to continue the tour?”