Farm Fresh Murder (27 page)

“So,” I said.

“Yeah, so. Thanks for coming to visit me.”

“How’re they treating you?”

“Fine. Officer Brion makes sure I get real food. Don’t know why, don’t think he likes me, but maybe because he knows you and I are friends.”

“Do you need me to get you anything? Cigarettes, a file?” I said.

Abner smiled. “Both would be great, except that I quit smoking in 1980 and a file might not get me very far.”

“Just saying.”

“Thanks, Becca. I don’t want you to be angry with me, no matter what.”

“I guess I’m not mad, really. You’ve infuriated me a few times over these last few days, but I could never really stay mad at you.”

“Even if I was a murderer?”

“You’re not, that much I know.”

“Thank you, thank you for that.”

We were both silent a second, each of us gathering surprise emotions. I hated seeing my friend behind bars.

“But Abner, you and I are the last two people to know that, and me knowing it ‘just because’ isn’t going to help prove your innocence. Talk to me, tell me something,” I finally said.

Abner let go of the bars, rubbed at his chin, and sat back on the cot. “There’s nothing I can tell you, Becca. I can’t.”

“Even if it means going to jail? What is your loyalty to the murderer? Does he have something on you?” Abner’s eyes flashed, but then he looked away again. “That’s it, right? He’s got something on you!” I stood. “But what?”

“Becca,” he pleaded.

“He’s threatening to expose whatever it is he has if you turn him in.” I was on a roll.

Abner kept his eyes averted from me.

What could the murderer possibly have? Did Barry or Carl have something so damaging to Abner that he couldn’t face it? They had all known one another for so long that I wondered what hadn’t met the statute of limitations yet. I knew that murder never expired. Was there another murder that Abner was concerned about? Something in the past?

“But why not mention it at this point? You’re already in trouble for murder. It couldn’t hurt things any more if there was another one,” I mumbled to myself.

“What’s that?” Abner asked.

“Well, I was wondering what the murderer had on you that you couldn’t face exposing him, and the only thing I can think of that’s more awful than murder is another murder. Did you kill someone in the past?”

“No, Becca, I’ve never killed anyone. Not my style.”

“What is it, then? Tell me, what does someone have on you? Don’t tell me the who, just tell me the what.”

“No one has anything on me.”

I looked at him. Deep disappointment and frustration played around in my gut. Every time I thought I got close to something, I was thwarted. But he was telling the truth, that much I knew—it wasn’t that someone had something on him.

Again I said, “Something, Abner, give me something.”

“Becca, aren’t there people in the world you’d take the fall for? People you care about so much that their life is more important than your own?”

“My sister. My parents.”

“See, when you care so deeply for someone, you’re willing to give up your own freedom.”

The only person I knew of that Abner had loved that deeply was Pauline Simonsen. Is that what he was telling me, that she was the murderer?

“And you loved Pauline Simonsen,” I said.

“Yes, many years ago, but she’s not the only person I’ve ever loved.”

“Who else?”

“I adore my sister, Helen, but when my brother Jake was alive, I probably wouldn’t have done squat for him.”

“Helen is a murderer?”

“No.”

“Pauline?”

“No.”

I sighed. Was he being purposefully cryptic or just plain cryptic?

“What were you doing at my house the day after the murder?”

“I wasn’t there. I told you that already.”

“Then who put the flowers in my pumpkin patch?”

“It wasn’t me, I swear.” His forehead crinkled as though he was concerned, but he ironed it out quickly enough.

“What were you doing at Carl’s the night before you met with me?” I’d kept this bit of knowledge to myself until that moment.

“Damn! You were spying?”

“Absolutely.”

“Nothing, really, just trying to convince another old friend that I’m not a murderer,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You and Carl and Barry are old friends? It doesn’t always show.”

“We
are
old friends. Well, Barry and I go way back—Carl has worked at Bailey’s a long time. You know us old-timers, though. We don’t spend a lot of effort showing affection or anything silly like that. We get to work early, stay until we’re sold out, and then go back home and get ready for the next day. We’re friends in our own ways.”

“Yeah, I’ve always admired that about you guys. I try to be an ‘old-timer,’ but I don’t always manage to be on time,” I said absently. Abner had just said something that was ringing that bell in my mind. “Abner, say what you just said. Say it again.”

He repeated his words and I still thought there was something to them, but again I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hmm.”

“What, Becca?”

“I don’t know yet, but I think . . .”
What was it?

“Becca,” Sam said as he opened the door, “time’s up. You need to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, sorry. Strict rules.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, but I didn’t get up.

“Becca,” Sam said.

I stood and went to Abner. “I’ll come back. I’ll have more questions.”

“Becca, thanks for coming to visit. I really appreciate it,” Abner said as though he thought he might not ever see me again.

“Becca,” Sam said.

I turned away from Abner, surprised at the emotion that swelled in my chest. It wasn’t easy to leave a friend in a prison cell. I tried not to let either Abner or Sam see any tears.

“Oh, wait, Abner.” I turned around. “Has Pauline always loved hummingbirds?”

“Uh, well, yes . . .” Abner eyes flashed, and he closed his mouth with an audible snap. He knew I was on to something.

“Abner, you don’t care for hummingbirds, do you? You made sure your sister told me as much. You want me to know, or at least you want me to figure it out,” I said. “Or Helen does.”

He looked away.

“He doesn’t like hummingbirds, Sam,” I said. He processed everything everyone around him did or said, so I was certain he was remembering all the feeders around Abner’s greenhouse. The sorrow that I’d felt a moment ago was replaced with a hopeful zip in my step. “He doesn’t like hummingbirds.”

“I’m not sure it’s relevant,” Sam said as we stood on the side
walk outside the police station/jail. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his eyes, though focused on me, were probably still noticing everything all around.

“Sam, you saw the hummingbird feeders around his greenhouse. If he doesn’t like the birds, why would he have the feeders?”

“I asked him about that.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

“He said they’d been on his greenhouse for a long time and he never wanted to take the time to take them down. He hung them years ago when he thought he might enjoy them. He didn’t, really, but he was too busy to do anything about them.”

“But he continued to fill them? That would be more time-consuming than taking them down,” I said as I thought back to the filled feeders and the nectar that had been spilled on Abner’s porch. “Besides, you saw that greenhouse. Abner probably took the time to pick up microscopic grains of dirt from the floor. It was immaculate. Something doesn’t fit.”

Sam sighed and bit at his lip. “You might be right. I’ll talk to him again. But when I asked him about it before, he made it seem like it was no big deal.” But the wheels were turning behind Sam’s observant eyes. Was it possible that he had missed something? I didn’t really think so, but there was a first time for everything. And if he had, why was Abner not liking hummingbirds of any significance?

“Sam, when you talk to him about it again, ask him about Pauline liking hummingbirds. We need to know more about that.”

“I will.” He could have made those two words sound like he was giving me the brush-off, like he didn’t want me to know that I might have pointed out something he’d missed. But they didn’t sound that way at all. Instead, they held a grateful tone.

“Thanks, Sam. I’d love to hear what you find out,” I said with a smile.

“Well, we’ll see.”

“Talk to you later.” I turned and walked toward my car.

“Becca?” Sam said as he turned from the door he’d opened.

“Yeah?”

“Let me do the investigating this time. I promise I’ll give you a call. Hey, I’ll do one better. Let’s go out to dinner tonight. I mean, well, you have insight into Abner, and probably everyone else, that I should know about—I noticed that last night. I’ll share some details with you that I shouldn’t share, and you can let me in on some of that insight. We’ll go over what happened at the party and see if we might have missed something there.”

“I show you yours and you’ll show me mine?” I smiled.

“Something like that.” Sam laughed.

“Deal,” I said. “What time?”

“I can’t get out of here any earlier than seven o’clock. Will that work?”

“See you then, but I’m not wearing a dress again.”

“I couldn’t take the shock two days in a row.” Sam went back into the building.

I didn’t think he was asking me out on a date, so to speak, but he might be under a slightly different impression. I’d have to clear up any misconceptions this evening, but as it was, I was looking forward to learning some things about the case—if that was what his intentions really were. And I was kind of looking forward to the company.

Hadn’t I just told Ian that I wanted to get to know him better?

“Yikes, I need to get all these cards put on the table,” I said aloud as I started my truck and headed back home to Hobbit.

 

 

Hobbit was happy to see me and then not so happy when, a
couple of hours after I got home, I decided I needed to leave again. My dinner with Sam wasn’t for a few more hours, and though I’d agreed to leave the investigating to him, I couldn’t let go of the thoughts of hummingbirds. Specifically, I couldn’t let go of wanting to know if Pauline Simonsen had a thing for them. I didn’t yet understand why it might be relevant at all, but I wanted to know.

I’d just drive by the Simonsen property, see if there were any hummingbird feeders on the grounds, and then drive back home. Either way, I’d have more information to give Sam.

I didn’t know exactly how to get to Simonsen Orchards, but I still remembered how to get to both Abner’s and Carl’s. Knowing now that the three properties had some form of joint boundaries, I’d find my way.

I wasn’t sure why I made the decision not to take Hobbit. Later, much later, I would realize it was because deep down I knew I wasn’t going to just drive by. I knew I was going to take my curiosity and exploration further. Probably too far.

But I wasn’t thinking of “later” as I once again approached Abner’s property—a place I hadn’t known a thing about until recently. And in just those few days, his little white house and enormous science-fiction-like greenhouse had gone from frightening to lonely. My heart hurt as I got out of my truck in front of the empty house. Even though I knew it innately, I was always surprised when I noticed the connection between humans and the places where they lived, the places where they played in their own dirt, either just because they liked to or because they made a living from the things they planted, grew, and harvested. Abner’s property missed him; I could feel the earth sigh in disappointment when it noticed I wasn’t him.

He wasn’t a murderer. I just knew it. But how was I going to prove it?

I climbed the porch steps. The hummingbird nectar was gone, so I could walk undeterred. The screen door opened easily, but the inner door was locked tight. I wanted to go back inside the house, but I didn’t have the pick-a-lock skill set, so I settled for a glance through the window at the top of the door. The coffee table had been righted and I couldn’t tell if there were still pictures on the floor, but nothing else seemed different.

I walked to the greenhouse and looked at the partially filled hummingbird feeders that were still attached. I grabbed a cinder block that was beside the door, moved it under a feeder, and climbed up to inspect the plastic tube closely.

It wasn’t dirty. None of them really were. If the feeders had been there a long time, they’d be dirtier, wouldn’t they? Just being outside would make something grimy or at least rain-spotted. These were fairly new feeders and someone had put them up recently. Abner had lied to Sam about the timing. But why?