All Natural Murder (27 page)

With so many mirrors to wipe down in the guest cabins and throughout the main house, we find it cheaper and more eco-friendly to make our own cleaner. The main ingredients are water, white vinegar, and rubbing alcohol. I start with two cups of warm water and add a quarter cup each of rubbing alcohol and white vinegar. I mix these together, pour the mixture into a spray bottle, and I’m all set. I always give the bottle a good shake if I haven’t used it for a while, and then I’m ready for some shiny mirrors.

When it’s hot outside, you need to stay hydrated. If you’re tired of drinking glass upon glass of water, you can always switch to foods with a high water content. The most common foods are certain fruits and vegetables, such as watermelon (or any melon), celery, oranges, grapefruits, tomatoes, and lettuce. Believe it or not, broccoli also has a high water content. As the temperatures climb, make yourself a nice fruit or lettuce-based salad. You’re sure to feel refreshed.

While there are many beneficial yoga poses, the Triangle Pose is one of my favorites because of the way it stretches out my legs and spine. To perform the Triangle Pose, stand with your feet about three feet apart and hold your arms straight out to the sides, palms down. Turn your right foot ninety degrees to the right. Turn your left foot about thirty degrees to the right. Take a deep breath. As you exhale, bend to your right so that your left hand is now pointing toward the ceiling and your right hand is resting on your shin or ankle. Hold this pose for up to a minute, taking several deep breaths, then return to standing. Turn your feet to the left and repeat the pose on the left side.

The wonderful smell of lavender can calm anyone’s mood and brighten their day. Here at the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa, we like to spritz a little lavender water in each room to provide that soothing feeling as soon as a guest walks in. To make your own at home, all you need is distilled water, essential lavender oil, and a spray bottle. Fill the bottle with distilled water. Add one drop of essential lavender oil for each ounce of water, and you’re all done. It’s possible to use actual lavender flowers, but not everyone grows lavender, and I find this recipe so easy.

Esther likes to always have an American flag waving in the breeze here at the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa, and during the Fourth of July weekend, we had more than our fair share of flags. If you plant a flag on your own property, it’s important to treat the flag correctly. Whenever you carry the flag, hold it up high and make sure it doesn’t touch anything beneath it, including the ground or even boxes or items that are sitting on the floor. You should raise the flag at sunrise and lower the flag at sunset, always displaying it with the blue square facing up. If the flag becomes tattered or worn, make sure to dispose of it properly, usually by burning it. You might also check to see if a local organization, like the Boy Scouts, collects damaged flags for proper disposal.

With so much going on in life—what with work, personal time, and everyday tasks—it’s easy to become overwhelmed with everything that needs to be done. When this happens, I like to sit down and make a list, then rank each item from one to three. The “ones” are items that have to be done as soon as possible, the “twos” can wait a few days, and the “threes” are things I’d like to do eventually but that I can let slide for a while. Once I’ve categorized each item, I can focus on the most important ones. Often I’ll find that only one or two things need to be done right away, and that immediately calms me. Of course, having my sister involved in a murder threw even my most organized priority list out of whack, but I don’t expect that to happen again. I hope.

Basil grows aplenty here at the farm during the summer, and Zennia uses this herb to make basil-infused olive oil. She places six or seven good-size leaves and half a cup of olive oil in a saucepan. She heats the mixture on low for five minutes, then sets the pan aside to cool. After a couple of hours, she pours the oil, leaves and all, in a small glass container and stores it in the fridge. Since the spa fridge is super cold, she leaves the oil out for a few minutes before each use so it can warm a bit. Sometimes she drizzles the basil oil over cubes of fresh mozzarella and adds a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Other times, she tosses some pasta and diced tomatoes with the oil, then adds fresh-shaved parmesan. Either way, it’s delicious.

A gust of wind blew against the canvas canopy, ripping the pole from Esther’s hand and threatening to topple the entire contraption. I scrambled to grab the pole and forced it into the base.

“Got it,” I told Esther.

She stepped back and wiped a hand across her brow. “Mercy me, Dana. This set-up is harder than I thought.”

I glanced around at the nearby stalls along Main Street, where others were struggling to pop up canopies or unfold tables. When I’d first suggested a green living festival to the Blossom Valley Rejuvenation Committee that Esther belonged to, I hadn’t anticipated the strong winds that occasionally sprang up during fall here in Blossom Valley. Still, even with these temperamental bursts of air and cooler temperatures, the festival would go on, with the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa right in the middle of the activity.

As owner of the farm, Esther was hoping this festival would finally draw attention to her bed and breakfast and secure her financial future. After a series of murders in the few months since the farm’s opening, business had been understandably slow to pick up, but reservations had steadily risen in the last few weeks, allowing us all to breathe a little easier. As the marketing maven for the farm, as well as the back-up maid, waitress, and animal catcher, I liked to think my ads and daily blog had helped with business, though it was probably the discounts and proximity to Mendocino that had pulled everyone in. As long as people booked a stay, I didn’t care why they were there. Unless it was to murder someone.

I finished securing the canopy and stepped over to the plastic folding table to retrieve a handful of glossy brochures from a cardboard box beneath it. I fanned the stack out as I spoke to Esther. “I can’t wait to see how many people show up today.”

Esther fiddled with a button on her denim blouse. The embroidered pumpkins and fall leaves fit right in with the spirit of the festival. “Heavens, what if no one comes? The farm will get the blame.”

“Nonsense. This will be a huge success, and then you’ll get the credit. We’ve been advertising it for weeks.” I patted her hand, then reached into the box for more brochures.

“You should get the credit, Dana. This was your idea, and don’t think I don’t know it. You’ve saved my bacon more than once.”

A cough behind me made my hand jerk. Two brochures skittered off the table and slid to the ground. Gordon, the manager of the farm, had slipped into the booth from the back, dressed in his usual expensive-looking suit and tie, every last black hair slicked into place on his head.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s good to see Dana finally embracing her marketing role. The festival could be the push we need to ensure the farm’s success. As long as everyone works hard and remembers the goal of attracting more guests to the farm.”

Gordon had spent the first few months as spa manager snapping at employees and watching our every move, a reminder that he was in charge, even if Esther really owned the place. In recent weeks, he’d adopted a more team captain method that involved pep talks—lots of pep talks—though his abrasive personality occasionally showed through. I usually tuned him out, nodding in all the right places while mentally figuring out what to watch on TV that night or when I needed to get my oil changed again.

I retrieved the fallen brochures and grabbed a handful of pens with pigs on top from the box under the table. I laid them near the brochures, making sure “O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa” was clearly visible.

Gordon picked up a pen. “How much did you squander on these?” He turned to glare at Esther. “Did you approve this purchase?”

Oh boy, here we went.

“Those pens are cute as newborn bunnies,” Esther said. “When Dana showed me the picture on the computer, I gave her my blessing.”

I grabbed a pen and pushed the pig down. An “oink” squeaked out. “Long after people throw those brochures in the trash, they’ll still have the pens. Every time they write with one, they’ll think of the spa.”

Gordon grunted, which usually meant he agreed but didn’t want to admit it. “Let’s put them away for now. I don’t want to run out in the first hour and not have more when the big afternoon crowds show up.”

“Don’t worry, I bought a ton of these little piggies, but I can save them for later.” I pushed the pig to hear one more “oink,” then gathered him up with his other pig pals and dropped them back in the box. You could bet I wouldn’t be whipping out the travel mugs until after Gordon left.

He brushed at his jacket sleeve, though there wasn’t a speck to be seen. “I have to get to the farm, but I’ll check back later to see if you need anything from me.” He nodded at the brochures. “Keep those stocked. And where’s the photo collage?”

“Next on my list.” I almost pointed out that I could have already set it up if Gordon would stop managing me, but then he might launch into another speech about how he was rallying the team for the good of the farm.

“Excellent. Make sure you get that done.” He called to Esther, who’d been unpacking a stack of business cards. “Did you want a lift back?”

She straightened up. “Dana, do you need any more help?”

I retrieved the easel from where I’d propped it against the table and popped the legs open. “Now that the canopy and table are set up, I can handle the rest.”

She gave me a quick hug. “Thanks again for all your hard work. I can rest easy knowing that you’re running the booth.”

Gordon placed a hand on Esther’s elbow and guided her toward the parking area, clearly in a hurry to get back to work. I finished setting up the giant piece of cardboard with the two dozen pictures of the farm, rearranged the brochures, and stepped around the table to survey the area from a passer-by’s point of view.

A little boring. I reentered the enclosure and retrieved a handful of pig pens from the box. The pop of pink instantly livened up the white table. I added half a dozen green travel mugs. Much better. Now I was ready for business.

I stood at attention, ready to answer any and all questions from people wandering by. Only there weren’t any people. I glanced at my phone and saw it was five minutes after ten. Where were the crowds? The green-living lovers who would flock here and ooh and aah over all the offerings of an organic farm and spa?

After rearranging the brochures again, I clicked the top of a pig several times to hear it oink and turned the picture collage at different angles to see if it changed the viewing experience. Nope. Not that any people had wandered by to look at it.

I leaned over the table to peer down the road, barely able to see past the booth next door. The owner had apparently decided to go with a full tent, rather than a canopy. I stepped around the table for a better look at the street. Rows of tables much like mine lined both sides, all offering different items or services. I thought I spotted a potential customer at the far end, though I couldn’t be sure.

Next door, voices reached me as two women came through the door flap in the tent, talking to someone still inside.

“I’ll be sure to double-check the stock of sunglasses when I get back to the office,” the one with the blond spiky hair with black tips said. A gust of wind blew past right then, lifting up the filmy split sleeves of her blouse and exposing a large tattoo of a panther on her shoulder.

“And I’ll get busy tallying those accounts we were discussing. Give me a call if you get overwhelmed,” said the older woman in the business suit. Her silver hair was cut in a bob and matched her silver ring, necklace, and bracelet.

The two women headed toward the parking area, and I went back to waiting for my first customer. After ten minutes of keeping busy doing nothing, I looked down the street again. The customer, or whoever I’d spotted at the other end, was gone, and no one else had taken their place.

With nothing else to do, I walked to the tent next door where the women had been to see if I could figure out what they were advertising. The door flap was tied back, and the banner across the opening declared it was the Invisible Prints booth. Miniature wind turbines sat in rows on a table inside. Plastic purple sunglasses with Invisible Prints stamped in yellow lettering on the arms waited on another table next to a slot that held brochures. The cover showed a red barn and a field full of pigs, looking much like the pigs back at Esther’s farm. The tag line asked, W
HAT
C
AN
Y
OU
D
O
WITH
M
ETHANE
G
AS
? I decided not to think about the answer.

“Come on over and grab a souvenir,” a voice said. I spotted a woman inside the tent and stepped into the enclosure. She smiled at me like she practiced that smile in a mirror. Blond and red highlights added depth to her perfectly styled deep brown hair, the large curls cascading past her shoulders. Her makeup looked professionally done, and her business jacket and knee-high skirt were completely out-of-place in downtown Blossom Valley.

I glanced down at my khaki pants and navy blue shirt with STAFF stitched on it and reminded myself that I had to wear my uniform for the farm. I couldn’t think up an excuse for my barely brushed dishwater blond hair that I’d pulled back into a ponytail as I rushed out of the house this morning. “Cute windmills,” I said. “What are they for?”

The woman picked one up and handed it to me. “Wind power is only one of the services Invisible Prints provides. We’re a carbon footprint offsetting company.”

Her words sounded like complete gibberish. “Carbon offset what?”

She chuckled like I wasn’t the first one to ask that question. “Carbon footprint offsetting company. We help people invest in green energy projects or sustainable resources to make up for all the energy they use in their homes and fuel they burn while driving or flying. The idea is to replace energy and resources that have been used with new resources, thereby making your carbon footprint neutral.”

“Interesting.” I wasn’t sure I completely understood everything she’d said, but her company certainly fit in with a green living festival. I set the windmill back on the table and picked up a brochure from the stand. I stuck it in my back pocket to read later.

“How about you?” she asked. “What business are you with?”

I stepped out of the tent, reached around the pole dividing our booths, and grabbed a brochure of my own to hand her. “I’m with the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa here in town. We provide overnight accommodations and meals. The chef uses organic fruits and vegetables grown right on the farm, as well as eggs hatched on site and meat provided by local companies.” I held out my right hand. “I’m Dana Lewis, by the way.”

We shook.

“Wendy. Wendy Hartford.”

I’d known a Wendy once, back in school. This Wendy appeared to be my age, and her face had a certain familiarity. Just as I opened my mouth to ask, she pointed a finger at me.

“Did you graduate from Blossom Valley High, by any chance? I used to go to school with a Dana Lewis.”

“I don’t believe it.” I gave her a half hug, memories of the two of us during our middle school years flitting through my mind. We hung out in each other’s bedroom for hours, flipping through the teen magazines to find our latest crushes or trying on our mothers’ makeup, all the while talking about the future. “What have you been doing these past few years?”

“Oh, this and that. I’ve been with Invisible Prints for three years now. How about you?”

I thought about how to phrase my answer. We hadn’t talked since high school graduation, and I was too embarrassed to admit I’d moved back home after a layoff. “I did some marketing down in the Bay Area for a while, but I moved back in with my mom a few months ago after my dad died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The sincerity in her voice made my heart squeeze, and I quelled the tears that threatened to rise. I was once more reminded of what great friends Wendy and I had been during those formative tween years. “Thanks. I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. We really should have stayed in touch.”

“I agree. At least we can make up for that time now.”

A man in cargo shorts and a tank top stepped into the tent, the brim of his fisherman’s hat brushing the tent flap. “What interesting windmills. What do they do?”

Was this an honest-to-goodness festival attendee? I glanced down the street and saw clumps of people stopped at various booths. The awaited crowd had finally arrived.

I headed out of the tent. “Guess I’d better get back to my job.”

“We’ll catch up later,” Wendy said. Her words were the usual thing you’d say when you ran into an old friend, but I found myself looking forward to the idea.

A middle-aged woman in a tie-dyed T-shirt wandered toward Wendy’s tent, and I scurried back to my booth. My hands shook a little in anticipation as I straightened the brochures one last time and made sure the picture display sat straight on the easel.

A woman with long brown hair and wearing an off-the-shoulder peasant dress and cowboy boots walked up to Wendy’s tent and peeked in. When she saw Wendy was busy, she turned and went back the other way. Fine, I didn’t want to tell her about the farm and spa anyway.

The man in the hat left Wendy’s booth and moved over to mine. I spent a few minutes outlining the services of the farm, including the new spa features. He took a pig pen and drifted away. Several people replaced him, keeping me busy for the next twenty minutes.

Once the last person had left, I stretched across the table and poked my head out. The street had cleared again, leaving only a couple of women who both seemed to be heading for Wendy’s booth. The closer one was the same one who’d stopped by before, the one in the cowboy boots and dress. The other, wearing a shockingly loud neon green pants suit, appeared to be in her early forties, though her flawless, cocoa-colored skin made it hard to tell. As I watched, the African American woman sped up and brushed past, leaving the woman in the peasant dress floundering in the middle of the street. Rude. The first woman disappeared from view, presumably into Wendy’s tent, while the other hesitated a moment, then walked away.