Laid out in lavender, p.10
Laid Out in Lavender, page 10
“I’m going out to talk to my field hand,” Mabel said. “You should come with me.”
“And you’ll answer my questions?”
“It depends on what they are,” Mabel said.
“Forget it. I’m not leaving the porch.”
Mabel shrugged. “Then I’ll have to ask the police to remove you. Conveniently, they’re right here on-site, and they aren’t going to want you bothering the guests any more than the guests want to be bothered. They’ve been through enough today already.” She started down the steps, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff. Joe Hansen might have helped her out if the detective wasn’t around, but O’Connor would undoubtedly balk at having one of his officers spending even a single minute helping Mabel.
After the barest hesitation, Rainey called out, “No, wait,” and hurried down the steps after her.
She looked back to see he’d tucked his notepad into a pocket and was holding the camera safely against his chest so as not to be hit by it again. Behind him, Beryl and her brother gave her grateful smiles and went back to sitting on the wicker porch chairs.
Mabel led Rainey across the front yard toward the new rhubarb field, which was conveniently far enough from the patio that the reporter couldn’t even see the guests. Or be seen by them, if he’d irritated them before and they would be happier if he wasn’t around.
“What can you tell me about the body? Did you notice any signs of foul play? Something out of the ordinary?” Rainey stumbled over an uneven spot in the grass. He righted himself, clutching his camera, and continued, “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t see anything. I did the background work. I know you found the body.”
Technically, the farm manager applicant had been the one to find the body, but the less said about Richard Wetzel, the better. His getting hounded by the reporter would only give him one more reason to bad-mouth Mabel and Skinner Farm. Besides, she had to be careful not to say anything that might annoy O’Connor if her comment was made public. There was enough friction between them already, and talking to the reporter before the detective interviewed her definitely wouldn’t mend their relationship.
Mabel hedged, “Perhaps you could tell me what you know first, so I won’t be repeating the obvious.”
“The victim is Thad Dalton,” Rainey said promptly. “The best man and the groom’s business partner.”
“That’s my understanding too.”
“So, what else do you know?” he asked impatiently.
“Nothing more than you do,” Mabel said. “You saw Thad on the ground. Probably even took pictures.”
“It’s not about what I know, which is plenty, but about other perspectives,” he said. “You must know something more. What about the cause of death? Did O’Connor confirm it was poison?”
Mabel could speculate that, whatever had killed Thad, it hadn’t been something natural, since the detective was building a case against Emily. But it was still possible Thad had died of an allergy, not intentional poisoning. Until there was a definitive answer on the cause of death, Mabel wasn’t going to be the one who started rumors that could hurt Emily. “You’d have to ask the police. I’m not qualified to offer a medical opinion, and the people who are qualified aren’t going to tell me or anyone else involved with the wedding, not before it’s announced publicly. They’re much more likely to talk to you as a member of the press.”
“I’ll get the official answers from O’Connor eventually, but I need more than that for a really good story. Help me out here. You must have seen something suspicious when you found the body.”
She’d seen crumbs from the cheesecake bars on Thad’s shirt, and near him were his empty plate and the little flag marked with his name. Rainey must have seen them, too, but she wasn’t about to bring his attention to something that so clearly pointed to Emily as a prime suspect.
“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you,” Mabel said as they approached where Terry was working in the rhubarb bed.
“I guess I’ll have to look for a better witness, then. I know more about the crime scene than you do.” Rainey stuffed his notepad into a pocket. “Do you know where Charlie Durbin is? He was with you when you found the body, wasn’t he?”
Mabel hesitated. The reporter clearly wasn’t going to quit looking for someone to answer his questions. If he couldn’t talk to Charlie, then he’d find someone else to bother. Emily was safely inside the farmhouse, out of Rainey’s reach, but there were plenty of other people he might target, like the bride—once O’Connor was done with her—or the rest of the wedding party. Given that Paige wasn’t likely to run interference for any of them, Mabel had to protect them. Charlie, on the other hand, could take care of himself, and he was less likely to be fazed by the reporter than any of the guests were. He’d certainly dealt with enough press—both good and bad—in the course of his career as one of the most prolific developers in the county.
Still, no one deserved having her sic a reporter on him, least of all Charlie, who’d been a big help with designing the stage for the wedding and having his crew build it. If only she was on better terms with the detective, she could have asked him to keep the reporter from talking to any witnesses for fear of contaminating their recollections. If the death turned out to be foul play, as O’Connor clearly believed it was, then everyone on the property had to be considered suspects. And that included Rainey.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to interview anyone about Thad’s unfortunate death right now. Maybe work on the story you came here for originally, about the farm, while you wait for the detective to talk to you. O’Connor won’t like it if he finds out you’re talking to his witnesses before he does. Especially since you’re potentially a suspect yourself if it turns out the death wasn’t from natural causes.”
“Me?” Rainey squeaked. “But I was with the wedding party out in the lavender field when Thad collapsed. I only found out something happened when everyone else did, by the sound of the ambulance’s siren.”
“You were supposed to be talking to my field hand then, not the wedding party,” Mabel reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He adjusted the strap of the heavy camera where it dragged against his neck. “The thing is, no one wants to read about boring old farmers. Not when they can read stories about celebrities. Millionaires and murder make for front-page stories. My being here for the death just shows what good instincts I have. I must have known there’d be something bigger when I agreed to do the silly little puff piece.”
Mabel was skeptical of his supposed nose for news. He worked for a small, regional newspaper that was mostly about town politics and kids playing sports. It was a good source for basic local news, but the stories didn’t require any investigation beyond searching public records for the times and locations of meetings.
Besides, Rainey’s personality was clearly not well-suited for getting people to talk to him. He’d irritated Stan enough that he’d threatened to move the wedding to avoid the reporter. And Rainey didn’t seem to be the least bit conscious of the fact that he’d just called Mabel old and her beloved farm boring. Not the sort of thing that would make her more inclined to cooperate with him.
“I’m afraid you’re stuck talking to boring old farmers as long as you’re on my property.” As she spoke, she heard Pixie’s yowl, faint through the walls of the farmhouse, announcing a new arrival. It had to be the food she’d just ordered. It was a welcome diversion, but she was glad Emily was inside the farmhouse, where she couldn’t see the delivery and wouldn’t have to see someone else’s food replacing her own.
Rainey glanced at Terry in the nearby rhubarb field and wrinkled his nose. Before he could come up with some new excuse, Mabel said, “You can either interview Terry while you wait to talk to O’Connor, or you can go enjoy the take-out that will be delivered to the patio by the time you can get there. But I won’t have you questioning my guests. One word to any of them, and I’ll have you removed from the property.”
Rainey looked at the still-empty driveway. “There’s no food coming.”
“You really push skepticism to its limits, don’t you? I thought reporters were supposed to trust before they verify. So trust me, there will be a delivery vehicle coming up the driveway any second now. You can follow it back to the patio if you want.” Mabel counted on delivery for a lot of her meals, as well as food for her farm workers, and she couldn’t risk the drivers blackballing her because of Rainey. “Just don’t say a single word to the driver. He can’t possibly know anything about Thad’s death.”
CHAPTER NINE
A small white SUV came around the corner just as Mabel had predicted, and Rainey tried, but failed to hide his surprise.
“The food is from Jeanne’s Country Diner and Maison Becker,” she told him. “I’d recommend getting there quickly, because it’s not going to last long.”
Apparently Rainey had a stronger nose for free food than for news, so he left without any more encouragement, holding his camera to his chest as he hurried off in the wake of the delivery vehicle. Mabel didn’t trust him to leave the guests alone for long, but she thought he’d be distracted for a few minutes while claiming his food, and she needed that time to talk to Terry.
If, as she’d told Rainey, everyone on the property was a potential suspect, then that included her field hand, who’d had the misfortune to be working today. Terry hadn’t been anywhere near the patio after the guests arrived, and he couldn’t possibly have had a motive to kill the best man, but she wanted to prepare him for possible questioning, especially if O’Connor thought it would upset her. She also needed to know if Terry had seen anything useful to the investigation, in case the detective didn’t ask him the right questions. Terry was smart and observant, and Mabel wouldn’t underestimate him the way O’Connor would. If Terry had any relevant information, she would make sure the detective knew about it.
Terry had his back to her and was using a spading fork to spread the mulch he’d dumped out of a wheelbarrow along about ten feet of the first row of rhubarb plants. They were tiny now, since it was their first spring in the ground after being started in a greenhouse. When they matured in a couple of years, they’d be two to three feet tall and wide, filling in what looked like too much empty space between them. The stalks were far too small to be harvested this summer, and only a few could be pulled the next year, but after that, the quarter-acre field would produce regularly for the next decade or longer, adding a new source of revenue for Skinner Farm. She was pleased with what she’d accomplished by planting it, but rhubarb didn’t promise the immediate gratification that Wetzel had seemed to want and that Rainey thought his readers wanted to hear about. She’d have to find something else to distract the reporter when she got back to the patio.
She called out Terry’s name to get his attention and made her way along the path nearest where he was working. “How’s it going?”
Terry straightened and stretched his long spine. “Good. I should have about half the field properly mulched before it gets too dark to see the smallest plants. I wouldn’t want to step on any of them after all the work we did to plant them.”
When Mabel had first decided to create the rhubarb field, she’d envisioned a simple project. Just plow it in the spring—or, more accurately, hire Terry to dig up the field with the tractor, since she was still wary of big farm vehicles—and then mark the rows, quickly tucking the tiny seedlings into easily hand-dug holes. Even after she’d seen exactly how big a quarter-acre field was and how tiny the seedlings were, she’d expected it to take no more than a couple of days, just a minute or two per plant after the initial plowing. It had actually taken the equivalent of two people putting in a forty-hour week, spread out over more than six months, due to the extra prep work necessary for a perennial crop like rhubarb. After all those hours spent on a field that wouldn’t even produce any income for another two years, she definitely didn’t want to risk damaging even a single one of the plants.
“It’s probably best that I don’t try to help you, then,” Mabel said. “Even in good light, I’d probably do it wrong.” After all, Richard Wetzel had years more agricultural education and experience than she did, and he’d thought everything she’d done on the farm was terrible.
“It just takes practice,” Terry said. “Unless you bury the plants under six inches or more of mulch, they’ll be fine.”
“I’ll come back later to help if I can get a break from the guests before dark, but for now, we should both probably head back to the farmhouse. I came out to let you know the police might want to talk to you.” She gestured at the delivery vehicle that was parked behind the cruisers with the back doors open. “And there’s dinner, if you’re hungry.”
Terry was in his mid-twenties, old enough to have outgrown the usual adolescent hunger, but he was still so skinny she doubted his metabolism would ever slow down. He looked like he never ate, although she knew he did, because she tried to provide food whenever he worked for her, as a thank-you for his tendency to do more than his job required without ever making her feel stupid or incompetent.
“I never say no to free food.” Terry leaned the spading fork against the wheelbarrow and brushed his dirty hands against his jeans. “I should wash up first.”
The groom was probably still out in front of the barn, making calls and not wanting to be disturbed. “You can use the kitchen sink instead of the one in the barn, if you want.” She glanced toward the porch as she walked with Terry toward the driveway. Beryl and Harlan weren’t there any longer, so there was no risk of them overhearing her conversation. “Before you go wash up, though, I was wondering if you’d seen anything unusual before the ambulance arrived.”
“People wearing dresses on a farm is pretty unusual.”
“Besides that.” They’d reached the end of the porch, and in a moment, they’d be out from the front of the house, where people could see them and possibly hear what they were saying. Mabel held out her hand to stop Terry. “I expect the police will want to know if you saw anyone wandering away from the group instead of participating in the rehearsal and pictures.”
“Just the guy who got taken away by the ambulance. He was missing from the rehearsal more often than not. I could hear the photographer’s frustration every time he had to rearrange everyone to make up for the guy’s absence.”
“That was the best man.” Mabel realized Terry wouldn’t have heard the latest news about Thad, and needed to be aware of how serious the situation was. “I’m afraid he died.”
“Really?” Terry’s pale eyebrows raised in surprise. “He didn’t look old. If anyone was going to fall over dead, I’d have expected it to be the groom, not someone who was young enough to be his son.”
“Detective O’Connor is treating it as a possible murder. That’s why it’s important to know who might have had the opportunity to kill Thad.”
Terry nodded. “No one from the wedding party came over near where I was working. Probably thought they’d get dirty. Or have to do some work. The manager candidate came out to chat with me. Or lecture me mostly, I suppose. He didn’t seem to be a fan of companion planting.”
“He mentioned that to me too.”
“He’s right that it’s more labor-intensive than single crops that can be harvested mechanically,” Terry said earnestly, “but for a small farm, it’s still more cost-effective, and it protects against a total crop failure. Weather that’s bad for one is often fine for the other.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Mabel said. “Where did Wetzel go after he talked to you?”
“Was that his name?” Terry said. “He didn’t introduce himself, and I didn’t really pay that much attention after he was done with me. He was heading over toward the creek initially, but I didn’t see where he went after that.”
“What about the people who were here specifically for the wedding? Did anyone other than the best man step away, even for a few minutes?”
“The bride and the photographer took a break at some point,” he said. “Not too long before the ambulance siren.”
“I know about them. They came to the farmhouse to fix the bride’s makeup.”
“Other than that...” Terry paused to think before saying, “The groom spent most of his time over by the creek so he could mess around with his phone. He only joined the rest of the party when he had to be part of a picture or do his part in the rehearsal, but he was never out of sight. The only other person who didn’t stay in the lavender field was the reporter covering the wedding. He seemed to be annoying everyone, and they’d tell him to leave. He’d back off a bit, but then five or ten minutes later, he’d be back in the thick of things.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be covering the wedding. He was supposed to be interviewing you.”
“That’s what I thought, so when I saw he had the press tag in his hat, I waved at him, but he ignored me to head straight on over to the lavender field. He certainly never came over to talk to me. I figured maybe, with that big camera he had, he was a newspaper photographer instead of the reporter.”
“Unfortunately not.” But it was interesting that the reporter hadn’t been with the wedding party the whole time. “Did Rainey leave completely when he was asked to, or did he just linger in the tractor path when he backed off?”
Terry thought for a moment before saying, “A little of both. Mostly, he just lurked around the edge of where the photography was happening. But one time a guest escorted him all the way back to the parking lot.”
“So, they all have alibis, except the reporter. Everyone else was out by the lavender field or near the creek the whole time.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Terry said. “I can’t completely vouch for everyone the whole time they were supposed to be out there. I took a few breaks myself, to use the bathroom and refill my water bottle or empty the weeds onto a compost pile. Someone might even have gone past me while I was busy and I just didn’t notice. I can zone out when I’m working.”
