The Olive Conspiracy (14 page)

Rivka leaned in. “What?”

“
Tabletop Tova,” said the deputy at
the same time the Sheriff was saying, “My God, what’s Tova gone and
done now?”

Hadar scrambled to her feet. “Tova? Seriously?
Wait, since when does she have chickens? What happened to the lime
trees?”

“
They all died, and she turned into
a mean old cuss,” said the deputy.

“
No,” the Sheriff interjected, “she
was a mean old cuss before that. When her son moved away to marry
that Sugar Coast woman.”

“
Well, I mean—” The deputy
scratched his head. “Maybe even before that. She got kinda
difficult after her husband died.”

“
Captain Riv, Tova was the woman I
was thinking of on the way here.” Hadar was practically jumping up
and down with nervous energy. “She can be really
hateful.”

“
She’s gotten worse,” said the
deputy. “And you’ve been gone for a few years—you haven’t even
heard the tabletop story.”

“
That’s where she got that silly
name,” said the Sheriff.

“
Yeah,” said the deputy. “Everyone
calls her Tabletop Tova now.”

Rivka sat back as the story poured out, both
men competing for the gold medal in the interruption prizefight
thanks to their morbid glee.

Apparently, this Tova had bought a new kitchen
table from a respected Lovely Valley carpenter. The next day, she
came hauling the table back into the shop, claiming that he’d sold
it to her with a scratched top. Now, he knew the table had been
pristine when she bought it, and so did a couple of other customers
who’d been in the shop at the time. It was obvious to everyone that
the scratches had come from her chickens, which she was
ill-equipped to control because she was so new to the chicken
game.

However, Tova was the type who could never be
persuaded that she was wrong, or that anything could be her fault.
She’d started an argument with the carpenter that escalated into a
scene witnessed by at least four or five other people—other
customers, and farmers in the street who were just passing by—and
ultimately ended with her scratching the top again, herself. She
grabbed the heavy key to her own house off her belt loop and left
violent furrows in the brand-new top, spat on it, then left the
furniture shop in a huff.

“
And this is why nobody wants to
buy eggs from her,” the deputy concluded.

“
She didn’t used to be like this,”
said the Sheriff sadly. “Back in the day, when her husband was
alive, she was a lot of fun—even funny!”

“
She always did have a temper
though,” the deputy reminded him.

“
It’s a shame she turned into what
she turned into.” The Sheriff sighed.

“
To me it sounds like she pushes
people away to keep them from leaving first,” Isaac commented
laconically, “since it all started when she lost her husband and
her son.”

“
She didn’t have to
lose
her
son,” groused the deputy. “He just moved away! She could have even
gone to join him when the lime trees failed.”

“
She probably thought she was gonna
show him
, or something.” Hadar picked at her
shoe.

Rivka clapped her hands down on her knees, then
stood up. “If you don’t have other suggestions, then let’s get down
to Tova’s farm as soon as we can. I want to know who in Imbrio paid
for this insult.”

***

The grove that had once made Tova and her
husband rich on limes now lay overgrown and half-neglected around
the farmhouse. The stench of chickens was in the air; they ran
around everywhere within the fence, leaving a trail of feathers and
droppings. The one bit of ground that still looked well-loved was a
plot of vegetables. Rivka noticed that the vines sprawling across
the ground were covered with a healthy amount of zucchini. If
nobody bought her eggs, maybe she was living on her own
plantings.

“
Sergeant, you lead,” Rivka
ordered. “Don’t want her to know what we know, and if I’m first at
the door—”

The sergeant nodded. With his deputy close at
his heels, he rapped his knuckles on Tova’s front door.

“
Just a minute, hang on!” called a
voice from inside. Rivka heard footsteps, and then the door swung
open to reveal a scrawny older woman with her hair in a knot at the
base of her neck. She peered around at all the visitors, clearly
surprised to see so many people on her threshold. “Oh, it’s you,
Sergeant. Thank you so much for coming. Don’t know what took you so
long,” she added sourly. “Guess they’re keeping you busy,
huh?”

“
Well, I, er,” the sergeant
stammered.

“
Mangy little brat yaps all hours
of the day, nips at my heels when I get outside the fence…” Tova
leaned on her doorframe. “Makes me feel like a prisoner in my own
home, I tell you.”

“
You complained about the…
neighbor’s dog,” the deputy suddenly remembered.

“
That’s
right
, I did.” Tova
puffed herself up like one of her chickens. “Wouldn’t be surprised
if I wasn’t the only one either. One of these days, it’s gonna leap
my fence and steal a chicken. If it hasn’t already.”

“
Why don’t we come inside, and you
can tell us all about it,” Isaac piped up in a voice so low and
fluid that Rivka was glad her mask hid the grin on her
face.

His charm clearly worked on Tova, and she swung
the door wide open. “Come on in. Don’t mind the mess.”

Rivka blanched at how badly the place smelled.
She thought the chicken odor of the farmyard was bad, but inside
was something else… some kind of animal urine—cat, perhaps?—and the
stuffiness of mold, and things she couldn’t even identify. She sent
a pitying look at Isaac, knowing it must be worse for him, because
at least she had a mask to shield her partially.

He lifted his eyelids slightly in response, and
surreptitiously snapped his left fingers beneath his nose. Rivka
rolled her eyes, realizing that he was now smelling roses or
raspberry rugelach or something entirely unrelated to cat
piss.

“
Don’t you ever get tired of being
you?” she murmured to him in their guttural native
language.

He just smirked.

“
Wish I had some honey-sesame bites
to offer you all,” said Tova, “but nobody usually comes to visit
me, so I don’t have anything like that in the house. You think my
son would come back and visit one of these years.”

“
I thought he came back for Passo—”
the deputy started to say.

With a quick, furtive tap to the hip, Isaac
shushed him, interrupting with a comment to Tova. “It’s so
difficult not to be able to see your loved ones.”

“
I know!” she agreed. “And my
nephew lives only a few orchards down, growing papayas and
avocados, but well,
he
called me a piece of shit,
so—”

“
My dear woman, that’s
terrible.”

“
You bet it is,” said Tova.
“Where’d they find you, anyway? You’re not from here, not with
that
coloring.”

“
I come from the north, but I live
in the capital,” said Isaac.

“
Now
him
I’ve seen before.”
Tova pointed to Rivka.

“
The captain and his entourage were
down here for a routine visit.” Oh, good, the sergeant knew how to
make shit up too. Rivka was beginning to wonder. “So, about this
dog…?”

While Isaac and the other men got Tova talking
about her neighbor’s dog, Rivka fell into the back of the group,
trying to drop out of sight. Moving only her eyes, she scanned the
room for clues. Anything at all might link Tova to the Imbrian
conspirators—Imbrian coins, men’s clothing or accessories, perhaps
documents with the foreign alphabet—

Something caught Rivka’s eye on a nearby table
covered in papers. A cat rested across the mess, and sticking out
from its gray fur she spotted a familiar shape.

Moving slowly so her migration wouldn’t attract
attention, she floated sideways and peered down at the
cat.

It was sleeping on a copy of
the
map
.

Lifting her mask slightly, Rivka pursed her
lips and blew breath at the cat.

It blinked and winked, then twitched its head.
She blew again, and it stood and stretched. As soon as it hopped
off the table, Rivka scanned the paper carefully to be sure of
herself.

It was
definitely
the map, the same map
that Shulamit had found in Ezra’s pile of blackmail fodder. Perhaps
this was a practice copy.

Rivka spoke. “Isaac. Sergeant.”

Both men looked up, and Tova with
them.

“
Go retrieve that paper on the top
of the pile,” she continued. “No, not that one—the one with the
coffee stain on the corner.”

Tova froze.

“
Is this—” The sergeant
began.

“
You’re all my witnesses that this
was found here and not planted?” Rivka looked around the room. The
deputy and Hadar nodded.

“
Mistress Tova,” Isaac interjected,
“you’ve made a valuable discovery that will help the crown with
some very troubling matters.”

“
Huh?” Tova blinked at
him.

“
This map is part of an
international plot,” said Isaac, “and we’ll need your help to get
us out of it.”

“
Yes, we need you to make the
journey back to Home City with us,” Rivka added.
Good work,
Isaac! Now she doesn’t know she’s a suspect, and maybe we can
actually get her to talk.

“
To Home City?” Tova looked around
her at all the officers. “Well, I—”

“
The queen will be pleased to hear
of your arrival,” said Isaac. “Maybe you can tell her about the dog
too!”

Tova grinned bitterly. “Ha! Won’t my neighbors
like to hear about
that
! We’ll see who’s who around
here.”

And she tossed her head and glared out an open
window at the world.

13. Little Stories

Shulamit was nursing Naomi after dinner when
the noise of a carriage outside heralded the return of the
travelers. Rivka crashed into the kitchen-house, banging the door
against the wall and collapsing into a chair with an “
Oy
gevalt!
”

“
No luck?” Shulamit tensed, her
eyes wide with concern.

“
Oh, we found her all right.” Rivka
smacked the table with both elbows, then rested her head in her
hands. “Rode with her all the way back in the sergeant’s carriage.
By the way, he’s spending the night here if you want to talk to
him.” Now she held up both hands, palms outward to Shulamit. “Kill
me. Kill me now, cut my head off. If I
ever
have to sit
through anything like that ever again… this relative, that
relative. Her son never appreciated her. Her nephew won’t give her
back the oud she loaned him nine years ago. Loaned him or gave him,
I don’t know. She’s cut off two of her sisters for reasons that are
half-trivial and half-delusion.
Meshuggah!
I’m sick of it.
Put her at the bottom of a well and feed her pickles.”

Like a fairy godmother, Aviva appeared at her
side. “Cabbage soup?” She smiled as she placed the steaming bowl in
front of Rivka.

Muttering something that sounded like “I’ll
cabbage her soup,” Rivka grabbed the spoon like a weapon and
fed.

“
Poor Riv. You are
so
appreciated.” Shulamit absorbed Rivka’s outburst. “But you found
her? She’s here?”

Rivka nodded between slurps.

“
Good work! Great!” Shulamit ran
her fingers through Naomi’s soft hair.

“
Thanks.” Rivka rubbed her temple.
“Oh, and thanks to Isaac, she doesn’t know she’s a
prisoner.”

Shulamit smirked. “That’s our
Isaac.”

“
He could have a fish frying in a
pan convinced he was giving it a bath,” Aviva piped up
helpfully.

“
And then feed the fish to Riv,”
added Shulamit.

“
This fish stinks. Soup’s good
though!” Rivka nodded in approval to Aviva, who grinned and
curtseyed. “Oh, and get this. She brought a kitten.”

“
The traitor… has a…
kitten?”

“
She has several cats,” Rivka
explained. “Apparently, this one can’t be left alone because it
still has to be fed goat’s milk. Who knows what happened to the
mother. The way she kept that house, a cat could get sick and die
without her knowing.”

Aviva cleared garlic husks off the countertop.
“I feel bad for her family.”

“
What?” said Rivka. “Oh. I guess
you’re right.”

“
Where is she now?” Shulamit
bundled her breast back into her tunic and gently rocked her
sleeping daughter.

“
Isaac’s getting her settled into a
room somewhere.” Rivka accepted a plate of stuffed grape leaves
from Aviva and continued between bites. “He’ll have it out of
her.”

“
You can tell him he can pick that
up in the morning,” Shulamit replied. “She’s under guard and can’t
leave, right?”