Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) (12 page)

A
sound. Music. Cam pulled herself up out of a dream. She looked around.
Oh, yeah.
She was on the couch because she’d been in an accident. Sunlight angled low and weak through the window facing the back. So the fog must have burned off at last. The music sounded again.
Star Trek: The Next Generation.
She finally came fully awake. It was her phone ringing, which was parked on the end table. She sat up quickly, reaching for the phone as a sharp pain shot through her head. She closed her eyes, succeeding in knocking the phone to the floor.

Crud.
By the time she retrieved the phone, it had stopped ringing. She peered at the caller ID. Alexandra.

Cam hit SEND with one finger while pressing her other hand to her temple. Alexandra picked up immediately.

“Cam, I was looking at Wicked Local News online and saw your name. You were in an accident? Are you okay?”

So the news was already online.
Great.
“Yeah. Well, sort of. My head hurts.”

“I was going to come by and check on the hens. I’ll check on you, too. See you in a few, all right?”

Cam agreed and disconnected. She was glad she’d have some help getting the birds in before dark. No way did she want to ever see another chicken carcass on her property. She rued having to tell Alexandra about the dead bird. At least it was only one.

Gingerly was the only way to put it: how she stood, used the bathroom, drank a glass of water in the kitchen. She eyed the prescription pain pills Lucinda had picked up for her on their way home from the hospital. Cam hated to take drugs. Now might have to be the exception. She shook out two and downed them with another glass of water.

It seemed like only a minute later that Alexandra rapped on the door. “I whipped you up some healing muffins.” She extended a basket broadcasting a delicious smell from a green-checked cloth.

Cam thanked her as she pulled back the cloth. Steam arose from crusty brown muffins dotted with blue and green flecks.

“Whole-wheat blueberry with mint. I picked the blueberries last summer and froze them. They have local honey and butter in them, too, and the wheat is from western Mass.”

“They smell delicious. I feel better already.”

“So how’d you get run off the road, anyway?”

“What’s more important is the story of Bad Farmer Cam.” She told Alexandra about her lapse of the night before as they strolled slowly out back to check on the birds. She added how she’d found the dead hen this morning.

“I’m really sorry,” Cam continued. “Things got complicated at the end of the day yesterday, and I forgot about the chickens until well after nightfall. I promise it won’t happen again.” The air, as they walked, had turned warm and mild, and a slight breeze brought the scent of a recently mowed lawn. Weather in New England. What was it they said? “Wait an hour, and it’ll change.”

“Cam, don’t worry. I’m just glad you’re all right. And, you know, the hens were all going to die, anyway. So we saved thirty-nine instead of forty. That’s still huge.”

The two women rounded the corner of the barn and observed the hens pecking inside their fenced area. It looked like only about half of them. Cam’s stomach dropped. Had the predator been back and made off with half the flock?

Alexandra peered inside the open door of the coop and counted for a moment. “There are eighteen of them in here. Just hanging out.” She extracted her head with a smile. “You can almost imagine them with little chicken e-readers, catching up on their reading lists now that they know they don’t have to fight all day to find food.”

“Wonder what they like to read?” A giggle bubbled up in Cam.

“Probably not
Chicken Soup for the Soul.
Maybe
Fifty Shades of Feathers?
” Alexandra’s laugh turned into a snort, which made them both laugh more.

“
The Girl with the Chicken Tattoo?
” Cam couldn’t stop giggling. She felt punchy.

“Or
The Hen Whisperer?
” Alexandra wiped her eyes. “Seriously, DJ said they like to roost at the same time every night, right around dusk. That’s why half of them are already in.”

Cam, a little high now on both laughter and pain meds, helped her shoo the rest of the birds into the coop. Alexandra counted to be sure twenty-one marched up the ramp before she shut the door and latched it.

“We’ll work on a covered run this weekend. DJ said he’d have time, and I will, too. And one tip? It’s probably better to get them in early rather than late, you know, if you’re pressed for time.”

“Got it. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea or a glass of something stronger?” Cam asked.

Alexandra said she’d like a cup of herbal tea. When they were settled at the dining table with tea and the muffins, Alexandra narrowed her eyes at the bandage on Cam’s head.

“Now tell me about this accident.”

Cam, in the middle of a bite of muffin, held up her hand. She swallowed and said, “These are great. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“I just threw them together.” Alexandra tossed a braid back over her shoulder.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Alexandra laughed, a light crystal peal. She straightened her already perfect posture. “Now. Out with the story.”

Cam relayed her tale, right down to the Civic driver who made her say who the president was and how many fingers he was holding up. “Good thing I can count, right?” She laughed weakly.

“Wait. So your brakes were fine before you got to the fair and totally didn’t work after? How’d that go down?” Alexandra knit her brows.

Cam raised her own eyebrows. “Question of the day. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem possible they would go bad on their own in such a short period of time.” She mentioned the people she’d run into at the fair and seeing Sim’s Harley on the road. “I had the truck in for a service to Sim yesterday. But she couldn’t have tampered with the brakes then, because they worked fine on my way to Middleford. Besides, why would she?”

“Sim, Wes, Howard, Vince.” Alexandra ticked the names off on the fingers of her left hand. “Or a random somebody. Crazy.”

“With the crowds the fair draws, anybody could have seen me or my truck. Why anybody would tamper with the brakes is the real question.”

“What do the police say?”

Cam wrinkled her nose. “About somebody trying to kill me? I didn’t talk to them about that idea. They seem to think I wasn’t driving carefully. They even tested my blood alcohol at the hospital. Which was zero. And I always drive with care, anyway.”

“I think you should tell them you suspect tampering. Where’s the truck now?”

“At Sim’s garage. You know, right in town. I asked the police to have it towed there.”

“And where’s your cell?”

Cam pointed to the end table where she’d left it.

“I’m calling the cops.” Alexandra fetched the phone and pressed some numbers.

“You know the police station number by heart?” Cam was surprised.

“An old boyfriend works there. I memorized it a while ago.” She extended the phone to Cam.

Cam was opening her mouth to object when someone answered on the other end. She identified herself and asked to speak to Chief Frost.

“He’s not in, ma’am,” said the dispatcher who answered. “Can I help you?”

Cam asked if Ruth was on duty, but the dispatcher said she wasn’t.

“It’s about an accident I had today in Middleford. I think . . . Well, could you have Chief Frost call me? I think there might have been foul play.” Cam squeezed her eyes shut at the cliché and opened them again.

The officer agreed to leave the chief a message and took Cam’s information.

Cam disconnected and gazed across the table at Alexandra. “I’m sure she thought I was some kind of lunatic.
Foul play.
Right.” She should probably call Ruth at home and tell her. The effort to do that seemed overwhelming at the moment.

“What about asking Sim to check the brakes for you?” Alexandra asked.

“I’m really tired. I’ll call her tomorrow. I need to rest again.”

“What can I do for you before I go?” Alexandra stood. She frowned and smiled at the same time.

“Actually? You can bring the timer on top of my stove over here and set it for four hours. The doctor said I need to keep waking up to be sure I can see straight and focus.” Cam pushed up from the table. She grabbed another muffin and made her way slowly back to the couch. Dark was falling fast. She switched on the lamp.

Alexandra set the timer on the coffee table. She added Cam’s phone and a glass of water as Cam pulled the blanket up under her chin again.

“Well, call me if you need me, Cam. I can borrow my mom’s car and come back. I can even stay the night if you want.”

Cam smiled. “I really appreciate it. But I’m sure I’ll be all right.”

“I’ll come early for Volunteer Day tomorrow. I can coordinate everybody.”

“Volunteer Day!” Cam groaned. “I totally forgot about it. Thank you. That would be a big help. I’m sure I’ll feel better by then. You be careful on the road, okay?”

Alexandra shook a little light on a head strap at Cam. “Always do,” she said as she walked out. A bicycle bell dinged from outside a moment later.

As Cam sampled the second muffin, she hoped she’d feel better tomorrow. Right now every bone in her body ached and her head throbbed. She realized she hadn’t seen Preston since she’d been home. He must be taking a long nap somewhere. She didn’t need to worry about him. He had his own entrance to the house, after all, the cat door in one of the basement windows.

She also realized the human door was unlocked. She couldn’t summon even an ounce of strength to get up and bolt it. If an intruder wanted to come in and whack her over the head, well, she could hardly feel worse.

Cam opened her eyes. The television cable box read 8:15. Her head hurt. She was hungry again. And it was too quiet. Why wasn’t Preston lobbying for his six o’clock treat? He was always in the house well before now, demanding his daily spoonful of canned food. She eased herself off the couch.

“Preston, treat,” she called. “Preston!”

She opened the back door. The long dusk of a New England autumn had lost its last rosy light. The evening air continued mild, but the moon hadn’t yet risen. She called again, adding the high-pitched soft whistle—
schwee-schwee-schwee
—he always responded to, no matter how far out in the fields he was.

No cat. Where was her Buddha buddy, who never roughened the edges of her life, like Jake did, or rejected her, as her former boyfriend had? Mr. P was one of her constants. As she gazed out into the dark, Cam racked her brain to think of the last time she’d seen him today. It had to be this morning, before she left for Middleford. Which seemed like a week ago. But had he been around this morning? She struggled to remember.

She took a deep breath. She reminded herself that he had stayed out all night before and had appeared the next morning, looking for breakfast, as if it was perfectly normal to put his human through a night of tossing and turning. But now? Life seemed so much more tenuous. Irene had been murdered in a horrific way. Bobby had disappeared and then had been arrested. A hen had been killed. And someone had tampered with the brakes on her truck. Could the fox have taken Preston, too? The thought of him being harmed made it really hard to keep the faith that he would show up happy and hungry at dawn.

Cam laced up her work boots on the back porch the next morning. The steam curling up from her coffee brought the rich aroma to her nose but did nothing to soothe her heavy heart. Preston wasn’t sleeping on the sunny living room windowsill, as he usually did in the mornings. He hadn’t come when she called. His dry food dish, a ceramic bowl with kitty footprints all around it, was as full as she’d left it the night before.

Despite having downed two more pain meds with a muffin, her head hurt and her body ached. But it was nothing in comparison to the empty space beneath her hand where her faithful cat should have been. She paced out to the road. Scanning up and down brought no sight of a puffy figure lying too still, as she had feared. She’d never seen Preston try to cross the country lane, which some residents liked to treat as a speedway. When he roamed, he always headed for the fields and the woods out back. Which held their own menaces, as the dead chicken attested to.

Speaking of chickens, it was time to let the girls out for the day. Cam opened the coop door, latching it ajar. She topped up their food and drink and made sure the fence was secure after she let herself out of the enclosure.

Her cell phone rang as she approached the barn. She dug it out of the back pocket of her work pants and noticed Westbury PD was the caller ID. Chief Frost himself was on the line. He asked her about the message she’d left the day before.

“Did you hear about my accident?” Cam asked.

“Yes. I hope you’re feeling all right.”

“Thanks. I am, sort of. About the accident, I didn’t mention it to the state police, but I think someone must have tampered with my brakes. I was driving safely, and they worked fine on my way to the fair.”