Till the Cows Come Home (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

The nurse had just finished poking and prodding when Pam stuck her head in the door. “Up for a visitor?”

The nurse patted my arm. “Don’t wear yourself out now. You look exhausted.”

“I promise I’ll be good.”

Pam pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. “I’ll make sure she behaves.”

The nurse laughed and pushed through the door.

Pam’s eyes roved over my face and arms, studying the bandages. She sat forward, rested her elbows on her knees, and said, “So. How are you doing?”

“I’ll survive.”

She looked at me with pity in her eyes. “I don’t mean your accident.”

I turned toward the TV and wished it were on.

“I mean Howie,” Pam said.

“I know what you mean.”

She focused her gaze on her shoes.

I sighed, and wished I could go to sleep for several days. I knew people would be asking how I was holding up. Knew I had a funeral to plan. An apartment to clean out. A friend to mourn, and avenge. But dammit, I didn’t want to
talk
about it.

Pam sneaked another look at me, and I noticed that the bags under her eyes had grown.

“You sure
you
shouldn’t be in here?” I asked.

She grimaced. “That bad, huh?”

“Not if gray is your natural color.”

“Ha ha.” She sank into the chair and rubbed her eyes. “I haven’t gotten much sleep this week.” She looked troubled.

“And?”

“
And
…Dad just got turned down for his loan. The bank will be ‘more than happy’ to give him money. But only half of what he asked for. With the Bergeys selling out for that new development—what’s it going to be called, Orchard Hill or something—Dad lost a third of the land he farms. There’s no way he could make payments on the original loan amount.”

I shook my head. “What’s he gonna do?”

“Play the lottery, I guess. Like you suggested.” She closed her eyes. “It’s so damned exhausting.”

I studied her face and thought about all the knowledge in her head. “Pam. Let me run something by you and see what you think.”

She looked at me. “Do I need to put my town council hat on?”

“Don’t think so. But I need your doctor regalia.”

“Oh. Okay. What?”

“Someone’s stealing my milk.”

Her face went from gray to white. “How do you know?”

“Followed the driver. On a tip from Howie.”

“But—”

The door opened and a uniformed police officer stepped in, looking none too happy about it.

I groaned. “What do you want, Meadows?”

He stood at the foot of the bed. “Ms. Moyer.”

She turned her head toward him. “Mister Meadows.”

He took out a notebook and didn’t bother to erase the boredom from his face. “So what happened, Ms. Crown?”

“What
happened
,” I said, “was that I got run off the road. By people who
happen
to be stealing my milk.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And you have proof of this? Or something that might point that direction?”

If I would’ve been able to move, I would’ve decked him. “Remember my farmhand? Who was
murdered?
I believe you were there?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I think the aflatoxin illness is being spread through my milk, and Howie knew it.”

“What?” Pam said.

Meadows froze for a second, then smirked. “They’re taking your farm’s milk and infusing it with a fungus? For what purpose?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know? All I know is they’re taking the milk to an abandoned farm and putting it into Rockefeller bottles. I don’t know where they’re taking it from there, or how. Or why.”

He scribbled in his notebook, shaking his head and laughing to himself.

“Where’s Willard?” I demanded.

“With his son. Where else would he be?”

“You need to let him know what I’ve found out.”

“Brady’s pretty critical. I don’t think I should interrupt for just anything.”

“Listen, Meadows. If this is what I think it is, this isn’t ‘just anything.’ It could save Brady’s life. Don’t you think Willard would be interested in
that
?”

He wrote a few more notes. “I’ll give him your message, okay? Now, about the accident. You think it was related to your milk getting stolen?”

“I
know
it was. It was the same truck I saw at the processing plant.”

“Make?”

“Dodge Ram. A new one. Black.”

“What’d the driver look like?”

“Didn’t see him close enough for details. White guy, though.”

“I don’t suppose you saw the license plate.”

“Oh, no. As I was sliding off the road, getting ripped to shreds, head slamming the ground, I made sure I got a good view of the clear numbers while the truck was speeding away.”

Irritation flashed across his face. “Fine.”

“Come on, Meadows. How was I supposed to read a plate?”

He flipped his notebook closed and pocketed it. “I’ll get in touch with Willard and inform him of your theories. If there isn’t anything else?”

I glared at him. He glared back.

Pam stood. “How about I show you out, Officer Meadows? I have to be going, too.” She looked at me. “Meeting with Sonny Turner.”

Meadows bristled. “I’ll be fine without an escort, thank you.”

Pam held up her hands. “No offense meant.”

He grunted and left.

“You call Willard first thing!” I yelled after him.

Pam scooted her chair back to the little table.

“So what do you think?” I asked.

“About what?”

“My milk. Could they be poisoning people with it?”

She straightened the chair. “I don’t know, Stella. Why would they do that?”

“Well, what would be the purpose of stealing it otherwise? It’s not like they’re not paying me for it. I’m getting money.” I frowned. I was getting money, but the co-op knew nothing about it. I’d have to check with my bank about exactly where the deposits were coming from.

Pam crossed her arms. “Your sure it’s just
your
milk they’ve got?”

I thought about it. “Don’t know. Would it matter?”

“Well, maybe it’s just a little plant Rockefeller’s using.”

“But I don’t sell my milk to Rockefeller. I sell it to the co-op.”

She pursed her lips. “Did you actually see them infusing it with something?”

“Couldn’t tell. I was hanging by my elbows on an outside window ledge.”

She shook her head, laughing quietly. “You are something else. Okay. Tell you what. I’ll come up with some scenarios for you. Try to figure out how your milk could possibly be poisoning the neighborhood.”

“You sound like you don’t believe it.”

“Well, think about it. There are lots of problems. Distribution. Cost. The number of people who would have to be involved. And the aflatoxin source would have to be considerable.”

“But it’s possible.”

“Sure. Anything’s possible.”

She glanced at the clock. “Whoops. Gotta go.”

“One more favor?” I said.

“Shoot.”

“Check up on Officer Crabby Pants and make sure he actually contacts Willard?”

“No problem. How about I stop by later? Check in, see how you’re doing. I can give you ideas by then, and hopefully let you know when the detective might be by.”

“Sounds great. But I might not be here.”

“What? Where would you be?”

“Home.”

She stared at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

I smiled. “What do you think?”

Chapter Thirty-Six

“You are such a stubborn ass!”

“Why, thank you, Jethro. That’s kind of you to say.”

He harrumphed and dropped into the chair where my other visitors had sat earlier. I hadn’t wanted to call him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my wallet, since it was in the saddlebag of my bike, so I couldn’t get a taxi, and had to enlist help. Jethro and Belle were the obvious ones to call. Jethro thought I was being…well…stubborn.

“Come on, Belle,” I said. “Give me a hand, will you?”

She held out her arm and I slowly moved my legs off the bed. I sat for a moment to let my head get back to my shoulders before attempting to stand. Belle gripped my elbow like a vice.

“You’re cutting off my circulation, Belle.”

“Sorry. I just don’t want you to fall.”

“Let her fall,” Jethro said. “Her head’s too hard to hurt it, anyway.”

“Now, Jethro,” Belle said.

“Now, Jethro,” I said.

“Sure,” Jethro said. “She leaves some freaked out message that her milk’s poisoning the neighborhood, but no one
else
knows anything about it.”

“Jethro,” Belle said. “Leave her alone.”

Eventually we got into the bathroom, where I took a break by sitting on the toilet seat. Belle went back out to get the underwear, extra large T-shirt, and shorts she had picked up at my house. Together we were able to get my hospital gown off and my other clothes on without more than a few swear words on my part. On Jethro’s part, at each sound of pain I could hear him jump up, like he was going to come rushing into the bathroom to save me. Belle just clamped her teeth and got through it, like a champ.

I was hobbling back into the room when a woman came in, her white physician’s coat flapping behind her. I didn’t recognize her, because she hadn’t been in to see me yet.

“I hear our newest guest is going to be the first to leave,” she said.

I lowered myself carefully onto a chair. “When I didn’t have a welcoming party I figured I wasn’t invited.”

She smiled. “Just because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I wasn’t here. You’re on some pretty strong painkillers. And you look very angelic when you’re asleep.”

“Ha,” Jethro said.

“You here to chain me to the bed?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I would prefer that you stay, but seeing as how we’re not in the military, I can’t order you to.”

“You could try,” Jethro grumbled.

“Wouldn’t work on Ms. Crown. I can tell just by looking at her.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I said. “And your name is?”

“Rachel Peterson. Remember it. You’re going to see me every day until I tell you not to anymore.”

“I am?”

“You are. Unless you want your insurance to completely disown you. Then you can pay for any hospitalization that has to do with skin grafts, infections, or those broken ribs.” She blinked, feigning innocence. “But, of course, it’s up to you.”

“I’ll bring her myself,” Jethro said, “if I have to put her over my shoulder and carry her in.”

I looked at Belle and she shrugged.

“I guess I’m outnumbered,” I told the doctor. “Tell me where to go, and when.”

She smiled and gave me her business card with an appointment already written on the back.

The ride home was uneventful, except for the few times we hit a pothole and I shrieked with pain. Jethro didn’t go above thirty the whole way, so it took forever. Once we got to the farm I was exhausted, but fought Jethro off or he would’ve carried me across the threshold.

I got out of the truck and Queenie snuffled around my legs, inspecting the bandages. I kneaded my fingers through her fur and stared at the garage.

“Hard to believe he ain’t there,” Jethro said softly.

I silently turned toward the house, while what I really wanted to do was go up to Howie’s apartment, lie in the middle of the floor, and wail.

Belle got a little suitcase out of the truck bed and started to follow me inside.

“Whoa, Nellie,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Staying overnight with you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I do.” Her smile was reinforced with steel.

“What about Zach and Mallory? Don’t they need you?”

“What am I?” Jethro said. “Chopped liver?”

“Jethro will take care of the kids,” Belle said, “while I take care of you. Neither of them is getting any worse—in fact, Mallory is distinctly better—and neither of them has asthma, like poor Toby and that other little boy.” Her voice wobbled.

“I don’t need a baby-sitter,” I said.

But she was already halfway up the walk, ignoring me.

“Jethro—” I said.

“Someone
did
run you off the road, you know. Belle can keep an eye out for unwanted intruders.”

“And she’ll fight them off? With what? An iron skillet?”

“No need for sarcasm. She can hold her own.” He grinned. “And she can call 911 as quick as the next person. Besides, you’ve got Queenie for an early warning signal.”

He patted my shoulder, got in his truck, and drove off. I did my best to walk with dignity up the sidewalk to the house. Queenie followed me in, coming through the hole in the screen door after it slapped shut behind me.

First off, I listened to my messages. Bart, Lenny, Jermaine, Carla. Nothing from Willard. Or Nick.

Belle fluttered around all evening, getting me things to eat or drink, cleaning, answering the phone, and basically doing so many housewifely things I thought I was going to scream. Instead, I sneaked out of the house while she was scrubbing the downstairs bathroom and made my way to my office. It took a while, but I got there, eventually.

I sat in my chair and swiveled it toward the aerial photo. So much had changed since it was taken. Besides the main thing—losing Howie—a neighbor boy was dead, the heifer barn was gone, my Harley was scrap metal, and I had made and lost a friend in Nick. And that didn’t even count my milk being used as a biological weapon.

I gazed out of the window, letting my body sink into the chair. The garage glowed eerily in the circle of the dusk-to-dawn light, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. Howie was dead.

My arm throbbed, along with my head, and my pills were in the house. Crap.

“Ah, here you are.” Belle stood in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other holding a tray. “I went to tell you I made brownies, but you weren’t there. I figured you were tired of me mothering you.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she grinned.

“I know you, remember. No use your lying about it.”

“Okay.”

“So, anyway, here they are. Along with a glass of milk and your next helping of pain medicine.”

I wrinkled my nose at the milk.

“You don’t really think your milk is poisoning people?” Belle said.

“Why else would they be stealing it?”

“But it tastes fine.”

“Maybe aflatoxin doesn’t taste like anything.”

She frowned. “It’s a fungus, isn’t it? That can’t taste good.”

I sighed. Maybe I
was
putting two unrelated things together. It just seemed like too much of a coincidence.

“Now,” Belle said, “when you’re done with those brownies you want to get ready for bed?”

I looked back out at Howie’s apartment. “I guess.”

“Okay. I’ll come in a little while and help you get inside.”

“You can stay and eat some with me.”

She patted my good arm before heading for the door. “I know you need your space.”

“Belle? How’s Jude?”

She turned back, her face pained. “As good as can be expected.” She paused. “We just can’t believe it was one of
us
that did those things to you.”

“No, Belle. It wasn’t. Marianne never was one of you.”

She sniffled, and left.

My phone rang. It was Detective Willard.

“Officer Meadows says you have a theory about the poisoning. He thinks it’s nuts, but I want to hear it.”

“Where are you?”

“The hospital lobby.”

“Brady okay?”

“Hanging on. Now what did you want to tell me?”

I told him about my milk.

“So where is this plant? You didn’t tell Meadows.”

“I was drugged up. I guess I forgot.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t. He should’ve asked. Anyway, the location?”

I gave him the road name and described the place. “You’re going there now?”

“Soon as I can get a warrant. Anything else you need to tell me?”

“Yes. Thanks for believing me. You’re the first one to take me seriously.”

“Well,” he said. “It’s a serious business.”