A Tine To Live, A Tine To Die Part 10

Cam followed him up the stairs and laid the flat on the floor behind her table. She arrayed a shallow bowl full of berries on the table and propped up a little sign she'd made that read ONLY ONE APIECE, PLEASE, hoping it didn't make her look stingy. She stepped back to check the table.

"Oh, crud." She'd forgotten the farm sign she liked to hang from the front of the table. Well, the business cards would have to do.

Cam surveyed the hall. The far corner had acc.u.mulated a crowd. When she saw Felicity stroll away from it, holding a plastic beer cup, Cam realized why. One table housed the Ipswich Ale Brewery. Next to them on one side hung a sign for Alfalfa Farm Winery. On the other side was Mill River Winery. One of the two wineries was apparently David Kosloski's preference, since he now carried a clear plastic cup of red wine. And on the other side of the brewery, Cam spied a sign for Turkey Sh.o.r.e Distilleries, makers of a historically correct rum. She had heard of the outfit but had never gotten the chance to try the rum.

The atmosphere in the room was festive. The central area was filling up fast, with people old and young visiting tables and sampling local foods of all kinds. Cam spied Albert in a cl.u.s.ter of men near the beer table. Good. He'd found cronies to hang with. She decided to dash over to the Market's table and grab a little plate of whatever Jake was offering. The thought of physical proximity to the tall chef made her body thrum with excitement.

"Felicity?" Cam waved at the pet.i.te woman pa.s.sing by. She was dressed in a flowing purple dress, with a brilliant turquoise scarf draped around her shoulder.

"Hey, the table looks great, Cam. Isn't this wonderful?" Felicity sipped her beer. "Have you seen Lucinda?"

"She's not here?" Cam's mouth dropped open. This was Lucinda's event.

"No. In fact, I had to call my brother to open up for us. She was supposed to have gotten the key from him."

"Your brother?"

"He's the s.e.xton here."

"That was lucky. Listen, can you watch my table for a minute? I need to ask Jake a question. Try to make sure people take only one strawberry if you can. So we don't run out."

Felicity nodded. "Sure."

"I'll be right back."

Cam decided to grab a drink before she visited Jake's table. She searched all the faces she pa.s.sed for Lucinda's, but she didn't seem to be in the room. Harm could have come to Lucinda. It had been only a week since the murder. Thoughts of violence pushed into Cam's brain. Or maybe the Brazilian had been detained. Cam had no idea if the INS was active in Westbury, it was such a backwater. The recent push across the country to make the local police report immigration violations had to make undoc.u.mented workers like Lucinda nervous.

The Turkey Sh.o.r.e table had the smallest crowd, so Cam steered in that direction. She introduced herself to the burly, rosy-cheeked man behind it.

He smiled at Cam. "I'm Mat. Can I offer you a sample of the White Cap or the Tavern Style rum?"

"I'd love a little. How about the Tavern Style? But, wait, it can't be local." Cam paused before tasting the small cup of amber liquid. She eyed Mat. "I mean, you don't get your mola.s.ses from around here, do you? Sugarcane doesn't grow in Zone Six."

He shook his head. "Louisiana." He glanced around. "Don't tell," he whispered, with smiling eyes under raised eyebrows. "It's not a secret, really," he continued in a normal voice. "Lucinda let me display, anyway, since the rum is locally made."

Was there anybody Lucinda didn't know? Cam sipped the rum. "Ooh. Nice. It's so smooth, like bourbon, almost." She ran her tongue against the back of her teeth, savoring the b.u.t.tery feel and catching a hint of vanilla. "Thanks. I'll spread the word." She downed the sample and waved as she moved toward Jake's table, the warmth of the rum spreading through her. She cast her eyes around the crowd for Lucinda.

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

Cam thudded into someone. "I'm sorry!" Cam said. "Oh, hi, Stuart." She stepped back with a sheepish look that turned to chagrin when she saw the spilled beer near the hem of his pants. "Sorry about that."

Stuart cleared his throat as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "Don't worry about it."

Anybody could make a mistake. "And while I'm apologizing, I might have overreacted about you pulling those pole beans."

"I'm over it. But did you lose something just now? You were walking around like a woman on a scavenger hunt." He frowned up at Cam as he leaned down to pat the spill with the handkerchief.

"I'm looking for Lucinda. Have you seen her? She planned this whole event, but she doesn't seem to be here."

Stuart focused on the wet spot on his leg. "Can't help you." He did not look up.

"All right. Hey, I am sorry. I'll try to pay more attention to where I'm going." He seemed more rational, at least, than he had been at the funeral home.

An eager group stood in front of the restaurant's table. Cam paused. Jake stood motionless, an empty plate in one hand, with a somber look on his face. She followed the path of his eyes, which blazed at Stuart in the middle of the room. Cam cleared her throat.

Jake s.h.i.+fted his eyes to Cam. He didn't smile. "You know that guy?"

"He's a customer. And we worked together, sort of, a few years ago. We were both at the same company. Why?"

Jake shook his head. "He's not my favorite guy. He's been into the restaurant. Let's just say he's not the easiest customer I've ever cooked for." He mustered a smile, but it didn't look easy. "Want food?"

Cam nodded. "Hungry. Thanks." She accepted the plate after Jake filled it. "What do we have?"

"Local shrimp ravioli in a reduction of Alfalfa Farm Winery's pinot gris with local sun-dried tomatoes from last year, Sunrise Dairy's b.u.t.ter, and your own lemon thyme. It's been getting rave reviews."

A server gestured to Jake to answer a question from one of the many samplers. Cam thanked him and took her plate back to her table. She also thanked Felicity and managed to snag a bite of one of the ravioli before a white-haired couple demanded her attention. The ravioli definitely earned their rave reviews.

Several hollow-sounding taps came over the PA system. Cam glanced at the podium.

"Can I have your attention, please?" Lucinda stood behind the mike, her curly hair twisted up in a messy knot, with wild strands escaping all over.

Cam let out a breath. Her volunteer was present, she was alive, and she looked fine, if a bit disheveled.

Lucinda sounded breathless as she called out, "Greetings, locavores!" A deep magenta blouse brought out the warm tones of her skin. She wore matching lipstick that flashed when she smiled broadly to the gathering. She went on to welcome the crowd. She spoke for a moment about her Kingsolverian plan to eat locally for a year. She then urged people to sample from every table.

"We all need to encourage our local sources of food. With that, I'm happy to introduce one of our biggest supporters, Farmer Cameron Flaherty. Cam, come up and tell us about your farm."

Cam gulped. Her? Oh, no. Public speaking was not on her list of favorite activities. It wasn't even at the bottom of the list. She tried to catch Lucinda's eye and shook her head with energy, but the crowd had started clapping. Heads turned to look at Cam. She spied Irene Burr, who caught her eye and nodded with raised eyebrows, encouraging Cam to speak. Lucinda clapped at the mike, too.

"Farmer Cam of Produce Plus Plus, where are you?"

Cam sighed. That had to be a rhetorical question, since between her height and her red hair, she was sure Lucinda knew her exact location. Where Lucinda had been was another question, one Cam hoped to get answered before the evening was out.

Striding to the podium, she glanced over at Jake. He winked at her with a wicked smile. Wonderful. Now she also had to perform in front of a guy she had a crush on. As she stepped onto the small platform, the toe of her boot caught and she nearly fell. Lucinda reached out a hand.

"Gotcha, fazendeira," she whispered.

"Thanks," Cam whispered in reply as she shook her head. She swallowed hard and began to speak, leaning over at an awkward angle to reach the microphone. She told them about Great-Uncle Albert and Great-Aunt Marie and how Albert had offered her the farm. Lucinda jumped up next to her and straightened the mike neck with a smile. She hopped off the podium again.

Cam spied Albert, still in place near the beer table. The crowd had moved aside in front of him, presumably so he could see.

"That's Albert St. Pierre right there." She waved at him. "He taught me about the soil and how to nurture it so plants will be healthy."

When Albert raised a hand in return, a wave of applause swept the room.

Cam continued. She spoke for a moment about organic certification. She described the CSA and lauded the Locavore Club's decision to sign up early. She finished by thanking the crowd.

"I'm a geek farmer. What can I say? If the food I grow makes you happy, that's good. And really, why buy from far away when you can eat what comes from your local area? I have to confess, though, that personally I am not giving up coffee." The audience laughed, to Cam's relief.

"Back to you," Cam said as she turned to Lucinda. But Lucinda wasn't there anymore. "Okay, enjoy the evening."

As she stepped down, a woman a bit older than Cam pushed past her and took the mike. "I hate to pop your bubble, folks, but you've got your heads in the clouds. Eating locally is all very nice, but it's not an efficient way to feed the world's population."

A hiss arose from the audience, and someone in the back booed. Cam wondered why this person was even at the festival if she was so anti-locavore.

The woman, whose tidy blouse and slacks contrasted with unkempt blond hair, started to speak again. A man hurried toward the podium.

"Clarice, honey. Come down from there," he murmured, extending a hand to her. She complied as he said in Cam's direction, "Sorry. She's not well." He put his arm around the woman and led her to the door.

Cam shrugged as she headed back to her table. The woman was probably right, but this wasn't exactly the right venue to start a debate on the topic. People kept stopping her to say h.e.l.lo or ask a question about the CSA. It was slow going.

"Nice speech." Ruth Dodge patted Cam on the arm.

"Hey, Ruth! Thanks. Nice to see you."

"Good speech, right, girls?" Two little girls stood on either side of Ruth. One wore a striped top, a short denim skirt over striped tights, and little hiking boots; the other a pink sundress and purple sandals. "Can you say hi to Ms. Cam?"

The girls said "Hi" in unison.

"You've gotten so big," Cam said, smiling at them, then thought she must sound like an old lady aunt. "Ms. Cam?" she said with raised eyebrows to Ruth.

"It's how they address their preschool teachers. Respect and informality combined. Seems to work."

"You guys having fun?" Cam squatted down to their level.

"I am. I'm Nettie." The girl in stripes pushed back a cap of dark curls from her forehead. "We're not the same, even though we're twins," her tiny voice a.s.serted. It sounded like she'd been practicing the statement.

"Of course not. And you're Natalie, right?" Cam asked the girl in pink. Blond curls framed her face like angel hair.

Natalie nodded and looked away, hugging Ruth's knee.

Ruth ruffled Natalie's hair and mouthed "Shy" to Cam.

Nettie's face broke into a wide smile. "Daddy!" She flew at the man who had appeared at Ruth's side. He scooped up both girls, one in each arm, and kissed each in turn. He was taller than Cam and Ruth and wiry, with a scrawny brown ponytail. A feather earring hung from an earlobe. He wore old jeans and an untucked cowboy s.h.i.+rt, the kind with snaps instead of b.u.t.tons, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"Cameron, right?" He greeted Cam without looking at Ruth.

Cam returned the greeting. "Haven't seen you since the wedding, I think."

Frank Jackson nodded, busying himself with his girls. Nettie demanded they go explore, while Natalie nestled into his shoulder like that was the only place she'd ever wanted to be.

Ruth reached out a hand to his other shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

Cam watched the hurt on Ruth's face be replaced by a mask of public good nature. Frank teased Nettie and stroked Natalie's hair. Clearly, he loved his kids, but he and Ruth were just as clearly having issues.

Cam froze. His left arm, the one around Natalie, sported a tattoo. She narrowed her eyes, as if it would improve her eyesight. She didn't need to. The tattoo depicted the same symbol as the one on the disk she'd found in her greenhouse.

Chapter 10.

Cam s.h.i.+fted her eyes quickly. She watched Ruth watch the father of her children instead. It suddenly seemed important not to let Frank know she was interested in his tattoo, which had to be from the Patriotic Militia. She did know she was intensely curious about the image on his arm. It had to mean that Frank was part of the militia. Ruth had reacted to the logo on the disk, but she hadn't told Cam her husband was involved with the organization. And she hadn't told Pappas, either, as far as Cam knew. She worried about what Ruth had gotten herself into. It was time for that walk on the beach with her friend. And soon.

Nettie was out of Frank's arms and pulling him with her little hand across the hall, so Cam excused herself. "I have to get back to my table. Bye, Frank, girls!" she called after them, then lowered her voice. "Let's talk soon, Ruthie." Cam squeezed Ruth's hand.

Her eyes on her daughters and her husband, Ruth nodded. She returned Cam's squeeze before she let go and followed them.

Cam headed back to her table. Stuart appeared at her side, holding two full plastic gla.s.ses.

"Wine?" He extended one toward Cam. "Alfalfa Farm Winery."

"I should be bringing you beer instead, to make up for the one I spilled on you." Cam accepted the gla.s.s. "Thanks."

"No problem. Wanted to make sure you know there's no hard feelings about pouring beer on me." Stuart laughed. "I was walking by, and they handed me two gla.s.ses for the price of one."

"I thought the samples were free." Cam smiled back. "Cheers."

Stuart raised his gla.s.s. "Let me know if you need another." He winked before he strolled away.

Alexandra was standing at the table when Cam returned. "I told Felicity I'd mind the s.p.a.ce for you. It's been busy. I put out a sheet for people to leave their e-mail addresses on." She wore a green-and-blue rayon dress, a garment Great-Aunt Marie might have worn, that looked like it came from an antiques store. Except on Alexandra it was stunning, and not an everyday housedress.

"I appreciate it, Alexandra." An image flashed in Cam's mind. An image of Alexandra standing over Mike's limp body with a pitchfork raised above her head, a pitchfork aimed at his throat. Cam shuddered.

"Are you all right?" Alexandra c.o.c.ked her head and drew her brows together.

Cam shook her head a little. "I'm fine. Looks like we had lots of takers."

The young woman must have refilled the strawberry bowl several times, since the flat on the floor was nearly empty. The array of business cards was almost depleted, too. Cam dug the box out of her purse and displayed another couple of dozen.

"Hey, Alexandra. Is Katie coming?" Stuart materialized next to Cam.

Alexandra frowned. "Stuart, really. You need to leave her alone."

"What, little sister can't put in a good word? We had a nice thing going there for a while." Stuart sounded like he'd been sampling a little too much from the wine and beer tables, p.r.o.nouncing nice as "naish." "Maybe now the compet.i.tion's gone. . . ."

"Forget it, Stuart. She's moved on." Alexandra put fists on hips. "And, anyway, why would she listen to me?"

Stuart's smile turned to hurt. "Thanks a lot." He stalked away.

"Sounds like he wants your sister back. Anyway, thanks so much for filling in." She smiled at Alexandra. "Go enjoy yourself." Cam shooed her away and banished the image of Alexandra as murderer, too.

The next hour pa.s.sed quickly. The burst of publicity from Lucinda brought all kinds of interested eaters who wanted a slice of Cam's time. She didn't think she could fit any more customers into the CSA this year but urged folks who asked about it to come to the farmers' market instead or even drop by the farm itself.

Lucinda breezed by several times. She wore black capri pants with her blouse and stylish black espadrilles. She didn't stop to talk, though, giving Cam a little wave of her hand as she worked the crowd. Bright spots burned on her cheeks, as if from the energy of the event.