Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) Read Online Free Page B

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    Preston sidled by and then shot off in pursuit of unseen prey. Cam worked for another hour, until her growling stomach demanded fuel. She hoisted the bushel on top of the cart full of vines. She trudged with the cart to the compost bins and carried the basket to the house. She set it down in the screened-in back porch. Extracting a key from the not-so-secret hiding place under a statue of a garden gnome sitting at a computer, she unlocked the back door and let herself in. Before getting involved in the search for her farmhand’s murderer in June, she had always left the door unlocked while she was outside working. Now she locked it every time she left the house.
    On the faded blue-speckled Formica of the kitchen countertop, the green light on her voice mail device blinked. The missed call was from Ruth Dodge. Cam realized Ruth and her little daughters hadn’t shown up at the dinner last night.
    She accessed the message and listened, gazing at one of the dinner centerpieces on her dining table. The flower vase needed topping off with water.
    “Cam, call me as soon as possible.”
    That was it. Cam frowned. Maybe Ruth needed some emergency babysitting. She checked the number—Ruth had called from her cell and not from the police station. Cam pressed the buttons to return the call. Ruth picked up right away and sounded relieved that Cam was on the line.
    “What’s up?” Cam asked. “Are the girls okay? You guys didn’t come to the dinner last night.”
    Ruth said they were fine, that she’d explain later. “This is an official call, Cam. I’m at work.”
    “Did I do something wrong?” It was odd that Ruth was calling from her cell phone at work.
    “Irene Burr was at the dinner, wasn’t she?”
    “Yes. We had about eighty guests. It was a great event—”
    “Did she argue with anybody?” Ruth interrupted.
    Cam kept her silence for a moment, picturing the evening.
    “Cam?”
    “I’m not sure you’d call it arguing. She seemed to rub a number of people the wrong way. But that’s how she is. I think she probably means well.”
    “Any details on who she upset?”
    “What’s going on?”
    “I need to know. Tell me who she rubbed the wrong way.”
    “Her stepson, her mechanic, Wes Ames, even Howard Fisher. You might better ask who didn’t she get riled up.”
    “Oh?”
    Cam sensed that Ruth’s ears were perking up even more. The two had been friends since the first summer Cam had come to the farm, when she was six. “Has something happened?”
    It was Ruth’s turn to keep silent.
    “Has something happened to Irene?” Cam shivered. It wasn’t from the temperature.
    “I have to go, Cam. I’ll call you back.” The phone clicked off.
    Cam stared at the device in her hand, as if willing it to ring again. She set it down a little harder than it deserved and assembled a peanut butter and banana sandwich instead. Ruth wasn’t going to call back. Two bites in, a bell rang, but it was the doorbell.
    Hastening to chew and swallow, Cam checked the window. She opened the back door to Sim Koyama.
    Sim’s tough exterior now displayed a big crack. “Cam, you have to help me.” Her voice quavered. She wore a uniform of black similar to her garb the night before, but her hair stuck out every which way, like a thistle plant. Dark smudges lurked under tense eyes.
    “Come in. Are you all right?”
    “I am, but Bobby isn’t. Irene Burr is dead.”
    “Oh, no! That’s terrible.” So that was why Ruth had called. “Bobby must be really upset.”
    “And the pigs. My God, the pigs.” Sim’s dark eyes looked haunted.
    “The pigs?” Had Sim lost it?
    “It’s awful.” Sim paced toward the kitchen and back.
    “Is Bobby all right? What can I do to help?”
    “That’s the thing. I don’t know where he is. I don’t even know who his friends are, besides me. I thought maybe you’d be able to find him.”
    “He worked for me all summer, but he didn’t really talk about his personal life. I really