Murder Most Fowl (23 page)

S
aturday dawned sunny. When Cam checked the outdoor thermometer, it was still cold, and a brisk wind blew the trees toward the south. Cam yawned, then popped the last bite of her peanut butter toast into her mouth, washing it down with the last gulp of French roast. Between the coyote cam and the green tea, it had been a short night. But the life of a farmer didn't allow indulgences like sleeping in.

Instead of tilling this morning she'd resolved to move the coop and the fencing out onto part of a field where she'd planted winter rye. The cover crop was green and vigorous, and if she didn't deal with it now, it would grow tall and thick and be harder to till under later. But if she let the hens roam over it, they would turn the organic material back into the soil for her, and add their own fertilizer, as well. Moving the coop would mean a longer trek twice a day to let them in and out and to feed and water them. At least the weather was on its sure path to eventual warming.

After she'd sent Alexandra a text asking for help this morning, Alexandra had texted right back that she'd be over shortly. Sure enough, as soon as Cam stepped outside, Alexandra rode up on her bicycle.

“No loaner car today?” Cam asked, trotting down the back steps as she pulled on her gloves. Preston ambled out of the house while Dasha ran down ahead of Cam and headed straight to the barn door.

“Nope, the 'rents are coming back today and Katie's going to pick them up at the Manchester airport.” Alexandra's cheeks were pink from her exertion in the cold. Cam's farm sat at the apex of Attic Hill and it was a steep uphill ride.

“How's Katie doing?”

“Eh. She's my sister.” She set the bicycle on its kickstand and hung her helmet from the handlebars. She glanced toward the back of the property. “Let's get this job done.”

“Sure.” Cam knew what it was like not to want to talk for long about a difficult topic. “I'll move the truck around to the coop. Can you start dismantling the fencing? We'll throw it in the back and set it up again once the coop is situated.”

Dasha was sniffing all around the barn door. He looked up and barked.

“Smell that coyote, do you, Dash?” Cam said.

“You had a coyote? Was it that rabid one from Groveland?”

“I don't know if it was rabid or not.” Cam pointed upward. “See that little thing? It's a camera. I installed it yesterday.”

“Wise move.” Alexandra grinned. “With all the trouble you seem to attract.”

“Yeah. What can I do?” Cam frowned. “I was going to keep the animals inside today, I just remembered. Dasha, come here, boy.” She patted her leg.

Dasha trotted over to the bushes at the side of the yard and took a leak, then came to Cam's side.

“Good boy. Preston,” she called as she slipped her fingers under Dasha's collar. “Be right out,” she said to Alexandra, then headed for the house, Preston following at his usual amble. On the back porch, she persuaded Dasha to go in and held the door open for Preston.

He hesitated on the bottom step, glancing around.

“Preston, come on,” Cam urged.

When an old blue Civic pulled into the drive, he dashed into the house. Cam gave a wave to Lucinda as she climbed out of the car, then went into the house to make sure the cat door was closed. It didn't do much good to shut Preston in the house if he could go right back out at will. She locked the back door and clattered down the stairs. Lucinda stood talking with Alexandra. A warm feeling rose up in Cam. How lucky was she to have these women as friends? They were fun, hardworking, and generous with their time.

“We working today or what?” Lucinda called with a smile.

“Sure,” Cam said. “Glad you showed up. What do they say, many hands make work light?”

“I think it's many hands make light work. Same difference.” Alexandra's blue eyes twinkled.

“Speaking of trouble, Ruth called me last night. She said Tam was arrested for leading the vandalism here and on Wayne's farm.”

Alexandra wrinkled her nose. “Good riddance. Maybe now Katie can get her act together. That guy had too much influence over her.”

Lucinda looked from one to the other. “Who's Tam?” Her curly black shoulder-length hair was particularly wild today, forming a mane that rose up from her head, with tendrils tangled every which way.

“He's the animal rights radical who vandalized Wayne's farm. And mine.”

“Glad they got him,” Lucinda said.

“Ruth said they're not going to arrest Katie,” Cam said.

“No, thank goodness.” Alexandra shook her head. “She told them everything she knew. She finally got hold of my dad's lawyer, and it looks like she'll only get probation or something.” Alexandra pointed to the camera. “So is that wireless, with an app that controls it?”

“Exactly. And it works, too. The motion light came on last night and I got an alert from the camera. I was worried, but it turned out to be a coyote, not a human. And boy, was it howling. Barking, too, sort of.”

“Dude, I've heard them.” Alexandra shuddered. “Creepy, isn't it? They're wicked bad carnivores.”

“So what's on the schedule today?” Lucinda asked, rubbing her gloved hands together.

“We're going to move the coop and the fence back to a field where the hens can work for me turning under a cover crop. I'll move the truck. You both can start pulling up the fencing.”

At their agreement, Cam climbed into the truck, driving it around the back of the barn and backing it up near the coop's trailer hitch. Twenty minutes later the three women had the wire fencing detached from its posts and rolled into the back of the truck, and all but one of the metal posts pulled out, too. Cam grabbed the last post and worked it back and forth until she could pull it out of the ground. She had kept the hens latched inside the coop even though she knew they'd rather be out in the daylight.

“Now, I've never attached the trailer before, but I looked at a video online. Should be easy. Direct me when I get there, okay?” She climbed back into the cab and shoved it into reverse.

Alexandra directed her back until the ball sticking out behind the license plate was under the half-hemisphere ball cup of the trailer hitch. Cam climbed out and cranked down the vertical support the trailer hitch rested on until the ball nestled in the cup, then folded down the lever that locked it in place.

“Just like in industry.” Cam straightened. “As Uncle Albert used to say.” A blue jay perched on top of the coop and emitted its metallic seesawing cry.

“What are those chains for?” Lucinda asked, pointing to two heavy chains attached to the hitch. The chains ended in big S hooks.

“Oh, yeah. Those are supposed to cross over underneath and hook to those holes next to the trailer ball. In case the whole thing detaches on the highway.”

“Highway? I thought we were going out back to a field.”

Cam laughed. “We are. Know what? I'm going to attach them, anyway.” She leaned over and hooked each chain through its hole. “If we were going on the highway we'd need brake lights and such, too, but I don't need those here.” She headed back to the cab. “Give me a shout if it turns over or anything. And follow me out. Alexandra, can you grab a couple of hammers from the barn?”

Cam started the truck and gradually let the clutch out, feeling the pull of the heavy wagon behind as she accelerated. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see Alexandra holding up two thumbs, so she steered for the wide central path leading back to the field where she wanted to situate the coop. As long as she stayed on this beaten-down path, which she mowed in the summer, she didn't think the truck would get stuck in the thawing soil. In the mirror she saw Lucinda following along with one hand on the coop to steady it. The Ford bumped along until she neared the band of woods at the back. She shoved the gearshift into reverse and turned the wheel, maneuvering the trailer onto the greening field. Alexandra strode up.

“Uh, barn's locked.”

“Right.” At Alexandra's questioning look, Cam went on. “Bobby came by and installed locks for me after the vandalism.” She pulled the keys out of the truck. “Catch,” she said, tossing them to Alexandra.

A moment later Alexandra was back with two heavy hammers. “Fencing, anyone?”

Working together, it didn't take more than an hour before they had attached the five-foot-high fencing to the hooks on the posts and reattached the simple gate into the area. Cam grabbed a roll of fishing line out of the truck.

“Now that the hens are out here, I'm going to run fishing line across the top. Apparently it keeps the hawks from picking them off. Help me? If you're on opposite sides outside, I can walk it back and forth inside.”

Lucinda and Alexandra positioned themselves as Cam brought the line across, looped it around a fence post, and then walked it to the other side, zigzagging back and forth until the top was covered. At the end she had to stoop to move around.

“Maybe I should have made the fence taller than I am. Too late now.” She laughed as she opened the coop door, then pulled the ramp down to the ground.

“Come on, girls. I know it was a bumpy ride, but you're going to love it out here.” She stepped back, hunching her shoulders and head to avoid the line.

Hillary's head appeared in the opening, after which the lead hen hopped down the ramp. It wasn't long before all the rest were shoving their beaks into the soil holding the rye, scratching at it with their feet, and generally looking like they were enjoying finally being sprung into the cool but sunny spring air.

Cam made her way out the gate, then held up her palms and high-fived Alexandra and Lucinda. At least something was going right.

Megan climbed out of her car in the Maudslay parking lot a little after eleven. She waved at Cam and walked toward her.

“Megan, thanks for your call,” Cam said. “Dasha and I could use a good walk.” After Lucinda and Alexandra had left, Megan had returned Cam's call and suggested a walk at Maudslay, to which Cam readily agreed.

“Thought we ought to talk in person.” Megan stuck her hands in her pockets. Her face looked less ravaged by grief, but there still wasn't much light in her eyes.

“Fine with me. As long as you don't mind me in my work clothes.” Cam gestured to her worn jeans and work jacket.

“Of course not.”

The two women and Dasha headed down the path toward the road and then crossed to follow the wide former carriage trail that led toward the Merrimack River. They walked in silence for a few minutes until they reached the stretch lined with tall antique rhododendron bushes.

“Did you learn anything from those bank statements?” Megan asked.

Cam glanced over at her, but Megan's eyes focused straight ahead. “You must have seen that it was your father's personal account. It didn't have your mom's name on it.”

“I know.”

“Did you look closely at the papers? Or show them to Greta?”

Megan shook her head. “I'd heard them argue about the money my dad's great-aunt left him. And one time, not that long ago, Daddy looked really upset when he got home when I was over there. Mom was out, and he shoved a stack of papers in his desk drawer. He saw me watching him and asked me not to tell Mom about it.”

“And you didn't.”

“No, of course not. But after he died, I went looking for them. And then I was afraid to study them, so I brought them to you, even though I didn't want to keep a secret from my mother. That sounds confused, doesn't it?”

Yes
. “It's okay. Do you want to know what I think?”

Megan nodded without speaking. She pointed to the left into the rose gardens, so Cam steered Dasha in that direction.

“Your father was making a payment of a hundred dollars to someone every month for the last twenty years.”

Megan whipped her head toward Cam. “Every month for twenty years? Who was he paying?”

“Someone with the initials
PU
.”

“Who's that?”

“I think it might be Paul Underwood.”

Megan slowed to a stop. “The man who found Daddy dead,” she whispered.

Cam pulled Dasha to a halt, as well. “That's right. I think he might have been blackmailing Wayne.”

“Blackmail? You have to be kidding. My father isn't . . . I mean, wasn't a criminal. He would never have hurt anyone.” Her gaze cast around the low rows of severely pruned shrubs arranged in geometrical shapes, which would be gorgeous, fragrant displays of roses in a few short months.

“Something terrible happened a long time ago. When your dad was a teenager. Paul was with him and two girls when one of the girls died in an accident.”