Farmed and Dangerous (19 page)

“You can sit here and die, or you can get your sorry self into that building.”

At least now she had the solid building to guide her. She slogged ahead, remembering what Ruth had said years ago, when the two of them were hiking in New Hampshire's White Mountains. They'd hit a particularly steep section of Kinsman Mountain.

“Be as a camel,” Ruth had said. “One foot in front of the other.”

Cam put one foot in front of the other. She kept her left hand on the wall. Her feet were turning into blocks of ice. Not much feeling remained in her left hand. She'd had no idea what a daunting task she'd faced, or what a dangerous one. She could hardly have been more stupid than to go into a blizzard for sheet music to begin with.

“If I hadn't dropped the keys, I could have honked the horn. I should have turned her car on and rammed the building,” she said aloud, with lips stiff from the cold, and then giggled. “That would have gotten somebody's attention.” The image of ruining both the Lexus and the front door of the residence cheered her, despite her logical side scolding her for even imagining carrying out such an outrageous feat.

She turned a corner and continued. She spied a glow in the wall, and then she touched a window. The glow had to be an emergency light inside. The sill sat right below her eye level, but snow stuck to the screen. She couldn't see in. She beat on the window and yelled. The storm howled around her.

No one responded. She pushed on to find the rear door. But what if she didn't? Maybe the door wouldn't open. She pushed her boots through the deep snow like a farmer wading through a muddy marsh to rescue a stranded lamb. Who would miss her if she died out here?
Preston, probably. Albert, for sure. Pete? Maybe.
With the window behind her, it grew dark again and the blowing snow obscured her vision.

She tripped again and fell forward. Her hands landed on a solid surface a few feet aboveground. The back porch. It had to be. She raised her head. The covered porch faced her. She climbed onto it. The snow, now at least not falling from above, lessened. She found the door and raised her hand to pound on it. She stopped and tried the knob instead. It turned. She'd never been so in love with an unlocked door.

T
he door pulled open from the inside. Cam stumbled directly into Oscar's chest. He put out an arm to steady her.

“Sorry,” she said, gaining her balance.

The astonishment on his face was unmistakable. “What were you doing out there?” He held an unlit cigarette in his left hand.

“I was locked out at the front.” Her lips were so cold, it was hard to speak clearly. A shudder ran through her from head to toe.

“And you walked all the way around the building in the storm?” He ushered her in and closed the door, pulling it tight. “I don't know if that's brave or foolish.”

She shivered. “I had no choice. It was that or freeze to death.”

“Well, get in here and warm yourself.” He stuck the cigarette in his shirt pocket and gestured at a chair in the corner. “Sit down. You want coffee or tea?”

“Whatever is the quickest.” She removed her hat and threw it on the stainless-steel counter, then sank into the chair. She could not bring herself to shed her coat yet. She inhaled the welcome scents of cinnamon and coffee. Two white emergency lights mingled with the red exit sign above the doorway to cast a soft pink light on the room.

“The java was fresh right before the power went off. I was just having a cup myself.” Oscar busied himself with an insulated carafe at the other end of the room. A minute later he set a steaming mug next to her. He added a half dozen sugar packets, three little pods of half-and-half, and a spoon.

“Thank you, Oscar.” She poured all the sugar and all the cream into her mug and stirred. This solicitous side of Oscar contrasted with the angry man she'd seen earlier.

He reached into the rear of a cabinet and drew out a bottle of brandy. “For medicinal purposes only, of course. It's Rosemary's private stash.” He opened it with a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. At Cam's nod, he added a couple of glugs to her coffee and a couple to his own, and then replaced the bottle in the cabinet. “She thinks nobody knows about it.”

She sipped. The hot, sweet alcoholic drink went down like perfection. The fumes brought water to her eyes. Warmth spread through her, not quite to her toes, but close. She unzipped her coat and slid out of it but kept it draped over her shoulders.

“So what were you doing outside, anyway?” Oscar asked. “Tell me you weren't trying to drive in this.”

She explained about Ginger and the music. “What I don't understand is why she didn't wonder what happened when I didn't reappear. Why she didn't come search for me and let everyone know I had disappeared. And why the outer door was already locked. Don't they do that at eight or nine?” She glanced at the big wall clock, which read only 7:15. “I'm surprised the door stayed locked when the power went off, come to think of it.”

“I don't know how that stuff works.” He leaned his back against the counter and folded his arms. “I'll tell you, I don't like that Ginger much.”

“You're not alone.” Cam pulled off her boots and massaged her toes. They tingled when feeling began to return.

“But she and Jim have a thing going on. We're not going to see the end of her anytime soon.” Oscar raised his eyebrows.

“I wondered about that.”

Rosemary burst, cursing, through the swinging doors. She stopped short when she saw Cam and Oscar.

“So there you are. People have been looking for you, Cam.” She set her hands on her hips and glared at Oscar. “And what are you doing in my kitchen?”

Oscar held up a hand. “Calm down, Cookie. Cam was out in the blizzard, if you can believe it, and by some miracle she found the back door. I'm helping her get warm. The coffee was brewed, anyway.”

“Don't call me Cookie,” Rosemary spat at Oscar. She cocked her head at Cam. “You were in the storm?”

“I was. Long story.” Cam frowned, not really seeing Rosemary. The story could have been so much longer. “Ginger Montgomery asked me to get her sheet music from her car. I was stupid enough to agree, and then I couldn't get back in.” Her ire rose again.

“That's terrible,” Rosemary said, looking horrified. “What? You walked all the way around the building?”

Cam nodded. “I'm never helping her again. You can be sure of that.”

Rosemary sniffed the air. “What's in that coffee, anyway?”

“Only cream and sugar.” Cam smiled with what she hoped was an innocent expression and gestured at the detritus of packets and empty cream pods on the counter. Oscar leaned against the wall, with a face like the Cheshire cat's. A tall black Cheshire cat.

Rosemary drummed her fingers on the counter. “I hate being stuck here. I need to get home.”

“You miss your Ricky?” Oscar asked.

“What are you talking about?” Rosemary's eyes opened wide, and her gaze darted back and forth. With no chef's toque to contain her bottle-blond hair, it curled around her face. Jennifer Aniston layers reached to her shoulders. Her fingers stopped drumming, and she pushed her hair off her forehead with one hand.

“I've heard you addressing somebody as Ricky on your cell,” Oscar said. “It sounded pretty lovey-dovey.”

“Not tonight, you didn't. Blizzard must have taken out the cell tower. My phone went totally dead a few minutes ago.” Rosemary pressed her lips together.

“Do you live with Richard Broadhurst?” Cam said. She sipped the coffee, her toes thawing at last.

“No. I mean—” Rosemary's eyes narrowed. “Well, yeah, I do.” She pulled her mouth to the side. “There I go, blabbing secrets again. But how did you know that?”

“You almost ran me down this morning. I was over at the orchard, looking for Richard to buy a few bushels of apples from him.”

“I didn't even see you. I was late for work.”

“I didn't realize you were the driver, but I noticed the license plate number and the bumper sticker. When I got here this afternoon, I saw the car. I didn't know it was yours until I saw you getting out of it tonight. You know, when you almost ran me over again.”

Rosemary cleared her throat. “Sorry about that.” She had the grace to appear chagrined.

“Why should your living with Richard be a secret?” Cam asked. “You're both adults, right?” Come to think of it, Rosemary might have a reason to hide the relationship, after all. Depending on how long it had been going on, Richard might have been cheating on Hannah's mother.

“Not telling.” Rosemary tilted her head. “That's what
secret
means.”

“So how long have you been with Ricky?” Oscar asked, still sporting a faint smile.

“Don't call him Ricky. We've been hanging out for a while.” Her face took on a dreamy cast. “At first I just rented a room from him for my jewelry business. And then we kind of got together.”

“So you make jewelry?” Cam cocked her head.

“I do. I like to mix metals—gold, silver, copper.” She put her fingers behind her earrings and tapped them. “And I sell them at craft fairs and such. Interested?” She dug a small flashlight out of a drawer, switched it on, and then handed it to Cam.

Cam stood and stepped closer to check out the earrings. The flashlight illuminated elongated triangles of silver with a copper streak and a tiny gold knob offset near the bottom.

“Those are beautiful,” Cam said. “But you work as a cook, too?”

“Gotta pay the bills. And I racked up a chunk of debt in the past, which I need to get clear of.” She walked over to the cabinet in which Oscar had found the brandy. She drew the bottle out. “Since we're all stuck here, how about a nip?”

Oscar and Cam exchanged a quick glance.

“Why not?” he said. “I'm off duty. Just can't get home.”

“Sure. Let me go check on Ellie first,” Cam said. She drained her mug and set it down. “I'll be right back.”

 

Cam padded out in her stocking feet and found Ellie on the same couch where she'd been earlier in the evening. With mouth pulled down, Ellie stared at her phone.

“What's up?” Cam sank onto the cushions next to her.

“Phone service got killed.” Ellie frowned more deeply. “Where have you been? That Ginger lady was all kinds of pissed off at you for not bringing her music in. After the lights went out, she asked Mr. Cooper to go out and call for you, but you weren't there. And then she stopped playing and disappeared somewhere.”

“She was pissed at
me?
I was the one locked out in the blizzard.” Cam rubbed her hands together. They were warm on the outside but still felt cold inside.

“What? You were, like, outside all this time?”

“Almost. I made it around to the back door. Barely. The door was unlocked. Oscar gave me a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and I'm finally almost thawed out.”

“Being out in a blizzard? That's bad, Cam.”

“You bet. I was wondering if Ginger locked me out there herself.”

“Do you think she'd do that?” Ellie looked horrified.

Cam rubbed the tops of her chilled thighs. “I sure hope not. Have you seen her around? I'd like to . . . well, at least get the story from her about why she didn't come looking for me.”

“Not lately.”

“I guess she didn't lock me out if she sent Jim out to search for me. By then I must have been halfway around to the back. I couldn't hear anything with the wind howling. But I'd still like to talk with her.”

Ellie glanced at the phone in her hand, and her glum expression returned.

“You don't look happy,” Cam said.

“No cell coverage. I talked to my mom again before we lost service, and told her we were, like, stuck here. She's not that cool with it, but what can you do? But I wanted to call Vince, too, and now I can't.”

“I'm sure the cell tower will come back online before long.” Cam glanced around the room. The bridge players still sat at their tables, bent over and peering at their games with little flashlights like Rosemary's, and a man slumped, snoring, in an easy chair, but most of the rest of the seats were empty. How long was she going to have to stay here?

“You said you heard a man in Bev's room.” Cam lowered her voice. “Shall we talk about it now?”

Ellie nodded. “It was Sunday. I was upstairs, collecting dinner trays from the residents who ate in their rooms.”

“I thought Oscar said he collected the trays.”

“He asked me to do it after I finished serving in the dining room. I was near Mrs. Montgomery's room when I heard shouting.”

“Do you remember exactly what you heard?” Cam checked around to make sure nobody was listening. She leaned closer to Ellie and laid her arm across the top of the couch.

“He said, ‘If you don't give me the money, you're going to be killed.' ”

Cam whistled softly.

Ellie's eyes narrowed. “So he must be the murderer, right?”

“I don't know. I showed Detective Pappas your message when it came in this afternoon. We'll have to tell him exactly what you heard. Did you recognize the man?”

“It was Frank Jackson, that dude we saw earlier on Sunday, the one Mrs. Montgomery didn't want to talk to. He came out of her room. I pretended I was going to get the tray from Mrs. Benson next door.”

“Did you happen to hear Bev's response to what he said?” Cam asked.
Frank. Threatening Bev. Yikes.

Ellie shook her head. “No. At least Mr. Jackson isn't trapped in here with us tonight. That would be epic scary.”

He didn't say that he himself would kill her.
Interesting.
Cam sat back. “How was Bev when you went in to get the tray?”

“I never did. I was scared Frank had gone back in. Oscar must have picked up Mrs. Montgomery's tray later.”

“But, Ellie, why didn't you tell the detective this earlier?”

Ellie studied the nails on her left hand, nails with green polish half worn away. “I sort of forgot.” She gazed up with worried eyes. “That's not really the truth. I didn't forget I'd heard him say that. But it was just, you know, really scary. I felt like if I talked about it, that made it more real or something. I'm sorry.”

“Not a problem. You're not the one on trial here, anyway. And you're safe, Ellie.” At least Cam hoped so. What had Frank meant by “You're going to be killed”? Did that mean he hadn't threatened Bev with death himself? That someone else would kill Bev if she didn't give Frank money? And what power had he possessed over her? She could have owed him money from their days in the Patriotic Militia, Cam supposed. Or maybe he'd held a piece of information Bev didn't want made public. Pete needed to know of this new development, but she couldn't tell him now.

Unless they had landlines. Cam spied a phone on a desk in the corner and went over to try it. It was the type that didn't work without electricity, though, so there was no dial tone. She returned to the couch.

Ray walked up and plopped into an easy chair opposite them, slinging one leg over the arm. She sported the same uniform as Ellie—a Moran Manor polo shirt, skinny jeans, and leather sneakers—except her shoes were purple, whereas Ellie's sported black-and-white stripes, and Ray wore a discreet jeweled stud in one nostril.

“How's it going, Ray?” Ellie asked with a smile.

“Work's all done. We're stuck here. No cell. No fun.” Her sleek black hair curved down around her chin on one side and was cut above her ear on the other.

“Hey, Cam. Have you met Ray?”

“Briefly, last weekend,” Cam said. “I believe I know your parents, Neela and Sunil. I'm the organic farmer up the road.”