Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) (25 page)

A
few hours later, after she scrubbed herself in a hot shower until the water turned cold, Cam lay in bed. Pete had called to make sure she was all right. She had talked to him on her cell as she lay with her head and shoulders, as well as her ankle, propped up on extra pillows.

“You can sleep well tonight, Cam.”

“Your doctor friend came by and treated the bite on my arm. He said my nose wasn’t broken and I just need to elevate and ice my ankle. Thanks for arranging that. I couldn’t face sitting in the hospital for hours.”

“As I said, he owed me one.”

“I still have a few Percocets from my accident last week, and I intend to take a couple tonight, so I’m sure I will have a very good sleep. I’m not so sure about Vince, though.”

“I think Vince is going to do fine.”

“The poor kid,” Cam went on. “Howard wasn’t a great father. And killing himself to escape his troubles doesn’t make him any kind of role model for a son.”

“When I think of what could have happened at Fisher’s, you alone with Howard, I—” Pete cleared his throat and went on in a voice as soft and deep as indigo velvet. “I care about you, Cam. Probably shouldn’t, but I do.”

“I’d like to keep this conversation going,” Cam murmured. She said good night. She shook out two pills and downed them with the glass of water she’d brought to her bedside.

She felt safe. Irene’s murderer was no longer a problem. The sadness attached to Howard’s suicide, though, vied with the feeling of being secure and out of danger.

Howard had had a tough life starting from the moment of being born to a mother who didn’t want him. It continued with the family who fed, clothed, and housed him, but who begrudged him happiness and welcome as one of their kin. His run of bad luck hadn’t ended with becoming a farmer, as he never seemed to figure out how to effectively and humanely raise both crops and livestock. The apparent promise of funds from Irene had turned him from an unpleasant, impoverished farmer into a killer.

But questions remained. What would happen to Vince? Where was his mother? Had it been Howard who had scaled the ladder to Irene’s study or someone else? Who would take care of the pigs now? She imagined the questions in a box on a barge floating into harbor. They could shelter there overnight. She didn’t need to answer them tonight. Perhaps never.

Before she slipped into narcotic-induced sleep, she smiled at the thought of Pete Pappas, suitor. And she had her dinner date with Jake tomorrow night. Life was getting interesting.

Cam stretched on the back steps in the morning sunlight of a warm Indian summer day. She had neglected the hens completely the night before. She strolled out behind the barn, her ankle blessedly much improved, and found the girls had roosted themselves. The door to the coop was open, because she’d never closed it, but they all appeared to be present and were venturing out into the morning air, vocalizing away. She doled out three measures of feed and returned to the house to brew coffee.

Once it was on, she checked her face in the mirror near the door.
Ouch.
Purple and dark blue bruising covered her upper face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and even her lips were swollen. She’d slept reasonably well, astonishing herself when she hadn’t woken until almost eight o’clock. She had arisen with a wicked thirst for water and had downed several glasses before venturing outdoors.

She poured a mug of black coffee. On an impulse, she added several spoonfuls of sugar and a dose of milk. What was up with that? Maybe she needed the calories after what she’d been through yesterday. Which, come to think of it, hadn’t included dinner.

Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number. Detective Pappas himself. She connected and greeted him.

“Are you up, Cam? I’m in the driveway. With breakfast.”

“Come on in. Coffee’s ready. And I’m hungry.” She disconnected and opened the door to Pete. He carried a white paper bag and Irene’s iPad in a clear plastic sheath.

“This face is something, isn’t it?” Cam asked with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Pete set his offerings on the table and looked at her from under his heavy brows.

“My ankle is much better. My nose hurts. And whatever that doctor friend of yours put on the bite seems to be working.”

“I’m glad.” He gestured to the bag. “I brought muffins.” Cam carried a mug of coffee for Pete and plates for both of them to the table.

“What’s up with the iPad?” Cam broke a muffin in half and took a generous bite. “Mmm, carrot walnut.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. First, I want to show you what we found next to Howard’s body last night.” He pulled a folded paper out of his shirt pocket. “This is a copy of the note he left.” He spread the paper out on the table. The writing was printed letters in all caps. They were rough but legible.

Cam’s throat thickened, and her eyes welled. “What a sad note.”

Pete nodded. He folded it again. “I’m glad he chose himself rather than you to shoot, though. Now, about the iPad. Our IT guy is on vacation. I’m hopeless around Apple products. I wondered if I could hire you to see what’s on the device.”

“You don’t have to hire me. I love hacking into file systems.” Cam rubbed her hands together.

“Actually, I do have to hire you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to use what you find. I brought a copy of our consultant contract. You qualify as an IT expert, right?”

“That’s me.” She read the contract and signed it. “What do you want me to look for?”

“Anything relating to the case. Any document with Howard’s name on it. Irene’s will. Whatever you can find.” He removed the iPad from the sheath.

Cam started it and typed the password she’d discovered the day before. It was time to drill deep into the device. Apple had always been minimalist and tried to make the system easy to use for the least-sophisticated customer. In Cam’s opinion, it felt like they didn’t trust users with their own files. But, hey, she hadn’t been a sought-after software engineer for nothing.

She searched the system. “Here you go. Her will and a couple of files named Howard and Vince.”

“Can you open the will?”

She opened the file and displayed it for him to read.

He whistled. “She left a chunk to Bobby. Says it was his father’s money. Everything else—the house and her business—goes to Vince. Not to Howard. Just as he said in the note.”

“At least Vince will be provided for.”

“How am I going to find these files again?” Pete frowned. “I wouldn’t be able to hack into it, as you say, if my life depended on it.”

“I’ll link them to the iPad’s top level so you can find them.” Cam worked for a minute, then handed the device to Pete. “You’re all set.”

Pete thanked her. “I have to get going. You take care, all right? I’ll call you later.”

Cam had closed the door behind him and cleared the table when high-pitched bicycle brakes screeched in the driveway. She opened the door and raised her hand in greeting.

“Vince, Ellie! No school today?” She came down the steps to greet them.

The kids climbed off their bikes and let them fall.

“Teacher in-service day, so no classes. Sweet, right?” Ellie sauntered toward Cam. Vince hung behind a few paces, and his step was more tentative.

When she got closer, Ellie exclaimed, “Your face! Who slugged you?” She put her hands on her hips.

Cam glanced at Vince, who stuck his hands in his pockets and studied the ground. She looked back at Ellie.

“I, um, ran into a post yesterday. Just being clumsy,” Cam said. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt much today.” Cam took a couple of steps and stretched her arm around Vince’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry about your dad, Vince.” She felt him first stiffen and then relax into her. Poor kid.

He coughed, still looking at the ground. “Thanks, Ms. Flaherty. He, well, wasn’t very . . . happy, I guess you could say.”

Cam squeezed his bony teenage shoulder. A shoulder that should have been hugged, not bruised. A teenager who needed encouragement, not denigration. Howard had learned that behavior from his foster father and had treated his son the same way. It was time to break the cycle of dysfunction. People could break out of all kinds of problems. Look at her. A year ago she wouldn’t have had any idea how to reach out to a fellow human in trouble, at least not physically. She’d been comfortable with how to talk to a computer. Communicating with a person’s psyche and emotions? Not so much.

“So, how is your mom doing? Is she around? I haven’t seen her lately.”

Vince looked her in the eyes and smiled. His face lit up, and his shoulders relaxed. “She’s coming back later today. She’s been, like, living at my uncle’s up in Ogunquit. My dad, he wasn’t very nice to her, either. I spent the summer with Mom, but I needed to come back for school last month. You know, so I didn’t have to switch high schools.”

“Vince stayed with my family last night,” Ellie said in a soft voice. “Detective Pappas called and asked if he could. I mean, like, obviously.” She shook her head after the manner of fourteen-year-old girls everywhere.

Vince scowled. “I should have stuck up for Mom more. I’ve been lifting weights lately. I wanted to get strong enough so he couldn’t push us around. At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“I’m so glad she’s coming back, Vince,” Cam said. “And getting stronger is always a good thing. Even if you don’t have to do it to protect yourself.”

Ellie took Vince’s hand. “Want to see the chickens?”

He squeezed her hand but released it. “You go check on them. I’ll be there in a minute.” Continuing to smile, he watched her stride away and turned to Cam.

“Ms. Flaherty, I know what happened. I want to apologize for my dad hurting you.” He stood up tall. “I wish I’d stopped him earlier and—”

Cam held up a hand. “It’s okay, Vince. As you said, he wasn’t a happy man. As far as I’ve heard, he hadn’t been for most of his life.”

“He seemed happy when I was little. We’d feed the animals together. He taught me how to hunt. I remember making Sunday breakfast with him—” He broke off, his eyes brimming over. He gave a rough swipe to them with his flannel sleeve. “But then money got tight. He got rough with Mom and with me.”

“You can’t save anybody else, you know,” Cam said. “You can only save yourself. You’re a good person, Vince. You’re kind, polite, smart. You work hard.” She nodded. “And you’re good to your mother. Just go forward. You’ll be all right.”

He smiled through wet eyes. Cam reached out a hand to pat his shoulder. Instead, she surprised herself by enveloping his slender frame in a hug, which he returned with a fierce squeeze.

“Vince,” Ellie called from behind the barn. “Come see the chickens! They have a covered run and everything!”

He pulled apart from Cam, gave her a huge grin, and raced away.

J
ake called at four that afternoon, saying he’d heard about her encounter at the Fisher farm. He offered to bring an early date-night dinner to her house so she didn’t have to drive to Newburyport. Cam accepted, although she was no longer sure about the “date” part of it. After he arrived, he puttered in the kitchen, warming and applying final touches to what he had brought.

Cam sat at her computer, catching up on bills, invoices, the farm’s Web site, e-mail. She’d taken the day off from physical work, settling for a few midday hours of directing Lucinda on where to work and what to harvest. She realized she was avoiding talking about relationship matters with Jake, contenting herself with avoidance therapy: both of them working in parallel and mostly in silence.

“Your dinner, madam.” Jake gestured to her dining table. Two places were set, flames flickered atop slender candle stalks, and a vase of pink roses backed up the scene.

“Looks fabulous,” Cam said as her stomach signaled its emptiness with an audible rumble. “What are we having?”

“Gnocchi with local pink oyster mushrooms and crème fraîche, sautéed Brussels sprouts and shallots with a garlic–red wine reduction, and a Galician sweet potato–rosemary frittata. Except for the mushrooms, the produce is all your own.”

“Yum.” She filled both wineglasses with a chilled white zinfandel before sitting. She lifted hers. “Thank you for this lovely meal, Jake. And for our friendship.”

Jake’s brow darkened. “Is it only friendship to you, Cameron?”

She took a sip and set her glass down. She took a deep breath and blew it out. She was about to answer him when someone knocked at the door. She twisted in her chair to see Pete peering in through the window.
Nice timing, Pappas.