A Tine To Live, A Tine To Die Part 12

Cam thought of another forgotten task. "Ellie, greet anybody who arrives, will you? I need to get the recipes from the house."

At the girl's pleased nod, Cam loped across the yard. She grabbed the printouts and cut the sheets in half with a little too much speed. She shook her head at the rough slanted cuts, but she was out of time. She had just locked the back door when a rumbling in the drive made her whirl.

A panel truck crunched the gravel as it drove slowly toward the back. Cam tried to hail the driver with a wave, but she didn't wave back. Now what? Cam shook her head, then followed the truck to the barn.

Great. On only her second share pickup day, the entire entrance to the barn was blocked. Who was this?

The pa.s.senger door slammed, and Alexandra strode around the front of the truck. "Hey, Cam! Good timing, right?" She gestured to the idling truck, a delighted smile lighting up her face.

"I don't know. Is it? What's going on?"

Alexandra's smile vanished. "You don't remember? It's the CSF. People are going to pick up their fish shares at the same time as their vegetables. You agreed to it." She frowned into Cam's eyes.

Cam nodded slowly. Of course. What a week it had been. "You're absolutely right. Sorry I forgot. But you know, this isn't a very good place for the truck. You need to move it. How about in the parking area?" She gestured to a graveled area off the driveway and closer to the road.

"Sure. No prob." Alexandra turned to the driver, still ensconced in the cab. "Bev, let's move it over there." She pointed down the drive.

Cam took a closer look.

Bev Montgomery gripped the wheel. She jammed the truck into reverse and backed down the drive.

What was Bev doing driving a fish truck? Cam wondered if she was going to ask to see where her son was killed. It had to be painful for her to be here, where Mike had met a violent death. At least there was the memorial to him. Maybe Cam should offer to show her.

A pain shot through the hand Cam had cut that night. She looked down. She still gripped the sheaf of recipes, now wrinkled from the force of her hand. She told herself to get a grip on her own world instead.

"Cam, want me to put those on the table?" Ellie looked up at Cam.

"Sure. Thanks. Anyone arrive yet?"

Ellie shook her head as she sauntered back into the barn, humming, earbud firmly in place.

Cam watched her go, then turned back to the truck. Bev now stood in the open back, next to a container that looked like a big refrigerator lying on its back. A large cooler sat on the truck bed next to her. On the ground, Alexandra busied herself with a clipboard. Community-supported fishery. Cam sighed at the excess of community.

"h.e.l.lo, Bev. I didn't know you fished, too."

"I don't." The older woman pulled on long, thick rubber gloves and rummaged in the container.

"What's your relation to the CSF, then?"

Alexandra piped up. "It's her brother. He's one of the supported fishermen. And fisherwomen."

Bev nodded but didn't meet Cam's eyes.

So much for getting information out of Bev. Her perky young spokeswoman was obviously going to cover for her. Cam resolved to keep trying.

"Is this your first time at the farm, Bev?"

Bev gave Cam a sharp glance. Now Cam had her attention.

"Of course not," she snapped. "Your great-uncle and I go way back." She opened her mouth to continue, then apparently thought the better of it and snapped it shut.

Cam saw Bev's clenched jaw working and decided to leave well enough alone. "Thanks for bringing the fish." She turned to Alexandra and nodded at her clipboard. "Are those the shareholders?"

Alexandra nodded.

"If there is fish left over, I'd love to buy a piece, since I never signed up. What kind of fish do you have, by the way?"

"Whole cod."

Cam had no idea how to cook a whole fish, but that was what the Internet was for, wasn't it? "Well, I'll take one if anyone doesn't claim their share."

Alexandra rolled her eyes in faux ecstasy. "It's to die for."

Cam sincerely hoped not. There had been enough of that at the farm already to last the rest of her natural lifetime.

Several shareholders streamed up the drive, including David Kosloski. Cam greeted them and welcomed them into the barn, bracing herself for several hours of being social.

"I'm sorry I missed the first week." Irene Burr, in expensive-looking slacks in a cream color and a shimmering blue silk shirt, waved a manicured hand. "I was in Morocco, picking up some rugs. This all looks wonderful."

Cam took a moment to show her the setup. "Careful of the dirt." She gestured at the roots on the radishes and smudges on the farm table. "I wouldn't want you to ruin those nice pants."

The woman laughed and began to fill her cloth bag.

"Hi, Dad!" Ellie strolled over to her father. "Look what we have today." She gestured in a broad sweep at the produce displayed on the table. "I cut the mesclun and did a bunch of other stuff, too."

David put his arm around Ellie and walked to the table. "It's beautiful, honey."

Ellie helped her father fill two cloth shopping bags with their share. They were at the barn door when Ellie said, "I'll meet you at the car, Dad. One sec." She hurried back to Cam.

"Cam," she whispered, beckoning Cam to lean down to her level.

Cam obliged.

Ellie looked around, as if to be sure no one was listening. "This is the thing I found in the woods." She drew it out of her back pocket and extended it in a closed fist.

Cam received it and closed her hand around the object, a little cylinder. She was about to examine it.

"No! Look at it later. You know, when you're by yourself." Ellie pursed her lips under a knit brow.

"Okay," Cam promised as she slipped the object into her pocket. She didn't have time to either study or consider it now, anyway. "Hey, thanks for all your work this morning. It really helped. You're very competent."

"No problem. I mean, thanks. I'm, like, learning a lot." She strolled toward the door, then turned. "Have a wicked good weekend," she called.

Cam waved her hand in reply. Just then Wes and Felicity rounded the corner into the barn. In contrast to Felicity's bubbly spirit from all of Cam's previous encounters with her, today her face was stern, angry. Wes hurried along beside her, one hand on her elbow, speaking in a low voice.

Felicity twisted out of Wes's touch and halted, facing him. "I think we should tell her. She deserves to know." Her voice was shrill. She turned back to the middle of the barn. Catching sight of Cam, she instantly transformed into a smiling shareholder.

"Ah, Cam, there you are. We were just talking about you."

Wes removed his gla.s.ses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hi, Felicity, Wes. How are things?" Cam gazed from one to the other.

Felicity glared at Wes, then smiled at Cam. "Oh, I forgot." She drew a cloth bag out of her market basket. "Here. I brought bamboo plates for your samples." She extended the bag toward Cam.

Ouch. "Well, we have a change of plans on that. Thank you so much, Felicity. But I realized it was just too much work to both cook and harvest every Sat.u.r.day." Cam waved a hand at the table. "But I still have the recipes, and you know, people can cook their own versions. What do you think?"

Felicity drew the bag back, gazing at Cam in silence for a moment.

Cam's heart fell. This little woman had been one of her most enthusiastic customers so far, and helpful, too. Cam hoped she hadn't lost her loyalty, and wondered if it had anything to do with Felicity's argument with Wes. Cam tried to muster a smile encouraging of agreement.

"I think that's a wise business decision, Cam. Don't worry. I was thinking maybe we could start monthly farm potlucks, anyway, everybody sharing their shares, so to speak. What do you think?"

Cam's relief must have been painted all over her, because Felicity laughed.

"You don't need to cook for us, really! We need you to grow food for us. We can do the cooking. Isn't that right, Wes?" For the first time since Cam had met her, Felicity didn't look at Wes to confirm her statement.

Wes didn't speak.

"Thanks. Great." Cam filled the gap. She looked directly at Wes, but his eyes were on Felicity, who had moved on to the produce table. "Everything all right, Wes?" Cam asked in a low voice.

"Phew," he said, exhaling. "Life ain't easy sometimes, Cam." He shook his head, then took a deep breath. "Nothing a little loving-kindness can't cure, though." He moved on to help Felicity a.s.semble their share.

Cam watched Wes. His touches were subtle but caring, a little stroke to Felicity's hair, a gentle caress of her shoulder as she selected flowers. Cam's longing for a man like that struck with a physical jolt to her gut. She had thought she had it in Tom, but in the end had realized she'd been reading caring into his behavior, when it was really only his self-interest pushing through. He'd been sweet enough when he wanted something from her. When she didn't serve his purposes, he had easily become brusque and distant, both psychologically and physically. In the end, he had rejected her. Claiming it was because she'd moved to the farm had been all so convenient for him.

Cam shook her head. What was she doing, reliving a failed relationship right here in the barn among a half dozen customers? She told herself to get back to business.

She approached Wes and Felicity. It looked like they were finished selecting their produce. "Are you picking up fish today, too?"

Felicity nodded. "Wes grills the cod whole. It's to die for."

Cam flinched. Not again.

Felicity must have noticed, because she said, "I'm sorry, Cam. That was a stupid thing to say. Forgive me."

Cam nodded. "No problem."

"What I meant was, it's totally delicious. The fish is so fresh, it's just the most tender seafood you've ever eaten. Are you getting a share?"

Cam replied that she was in line in case of a no-show. "Do you have a recipe, Wes?"

"I'll e-mail it to you."

Cam thanked him. "See you on Volunteer Day, then." She looked at Felicity.

"I'll be here." Felicity turned to Wes, her face instantly transformed to taskmaster firm. She folded her arms. "Wesley, don't we have information for Cam?"

Wes sighed. He gazed at Felicity. "You know I don't want to get involved."

"We don't have a choice! You can't just stick your head in the ground like a Yankee ostrich." Sparks shot out of her eyes.

"All right." Wes faced Cam. "That detective was snooping around again. Pappas. He was at our door this morning. I don't like the authorities on my property. Felicity thinks we should help them. But why help somebody you don't trust?" He looked around the barn, which for the moment was empty of anyone but the three of them, then focused on his wife. "But I talked to him, anyway. He was asking questions about Lucinda."

"Oh, no. But why was he asking you?" Wes didn't trust the police. Cam wondered why not and hoped it wasn't because he was part of the militia, too.

"I suppose because we're all in the Locavore Club. Felicity and Lucinda were the force that organized it in the first place."

"What kind of questions did he ask?"

"I gathered there might have been an incident last night, after the festival, perhaps." Wes looked down at Felicity for confirmation. She nodded.

"Why did you think that?"

"Pappas asked a lot of questions about when the festival ended, where Lucinda had gone, that kind of thing. But we told him we didn't know anything. Which is the truth."

"Oh, crud." Cam spied Lucinda at the back door of the barn. She lowered her voice. "Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it."

"Let's go get our fish, honey," Felicity said to Wes. Peace apparently reigned again in the Ames-Slavin household.

"I'll come along. I need a little fresh air." All of a sudden the barn, the customers, the murder investigation, the entire farm constricted Cam's lungs so she could barely breathe.

At the doorway, Cam glanced back at the farm table. Lucinda stood behind it, one hand neatening the bundles of asparagus. The other gripped her forehead like it hurt, bad.

Cam inhaled deeply in the sunshine. She leaned against the doorway, watching Bev extract a plastic bag full of an entire fish from the container. She scooped ice from the cooler into another bag, added the fish, and handed it down to Alexandra, who gave it to Wes. Alexandra checked their names off her list and then slid a couple of sheets of paper out from under the list.

"Here's an explanation of the fishery practices and a couple of recipes for cooking the fish. Oh, and that Web site there . . ." Alexandra pointed to a spot on the top sheet. "It has a link to a video on how to fillet fish."

"Wes already has a filleting knife. Don't you, dear?" Felicity asked her husband.

Cam sensed Bev's eyes on her and glanced up at her standing in the truck. Her hostility was a knife in the air. Cam almost ducked. She hadn't done anything to deserve that. True, she hadn't been overly welcoming to Bev-she really should have accepted that rhubarb at the close of market-but she had reached out. Maybe offering to show her the memorial would help.

"How many more we got?" Bev barked at Alexandra.

Always serene, Alexandra answered, "Three, Bev."

"Well, I need to get going. I have my own farm to see to, you know."

Alexandra gazed up at her for a moment, then turned to Cam, extending the clipboard. "How about if I leave you the last three fish in the cooler of ice, along with the list, Cam? Anybody doesn't claim their fish, it's yours."

"No problem," Cam agreed. She moved forward to accept the list of subscribers from Alexandra.

Alexandra turned back to Bev. "All right? Then we'll be done. I have a few other commitments this afternoon, too."

"Let's be gone, then. I'd rather be with my own kind, anyway." Bev's glare this time wasn't at Cam but beyond her.

"Just one sec while I pick up my share." Alexandra grabbed her cloth bags from the cab of the truck and strode into the barn.

Cam eased around, following Bev's gaze. Lucinda stood in the entrance to the barn. And her look at Bev was equally unfriendly. Lucinda wasn't Bev's "own kind"? What did that mean?