09 The Clue at Black Creek Farm (2 page)

Julie stopped right behind him. “Hi, everyone,” she said. Now that she was closer, I could see that she looked a little pale. “Oh, gosh, I need to sit down.”

Jack looked at her with concern. “Go have a seat!” he said urgently. “In fact, go grab something to eat in the kitchen.”

“That's right, dear,” Sam said. “You're eating for two, remember.”

Julie shot a small smile at my friends and me. “Sorry to be rude,” she said, “but I think I might take Sam up on that. I've been so hungry lately!”

“When are you due?” Bess asked warmly.

“One more month,” Julie said, patting her round belly.

She waved and walked toward the kitchen. I followed her with my eyes and was surprised when I heard harsh voices coming from nearby.

“. . . should've planned for her to eat first,” Jack was
saying to his father, a sharp edge in his voice. “She's eight months pregnant!”

Sam looked hurt. “And nobody minds her sitting down or eating early.”

“Are you
sure
?” Jack asked in a lower voice, sneering. “You don't want us out here shaking hands to sell your stupid vegetables?”

Sam's face drooped even farther. Abby shot Jack a warning look. “Now, Jack . . .”

Holly cleared her throat. She was staring straight ahead, and I couldn't tell whether she'd heard the argument and was ignoring it, or had really zoned out during the whole thing. “I
am
getting hungry, Sam,” she said, looking up at him. “And the hall is filling up.”

She gestured around at the other tables. I noted that she was right; while only three or four tables had people sitting at them when we'd arrived, now nearly all of them were populated. They were filled with a combination of men and women, young and old. I found myself feeling hopeful for Sam and Black Creek Farm. It was hard not to be touched by his enthusiasm. I
hoped some of these diners would become customers.

Jack shook his head and walked off in the direction of the kitchen, and Sam looked down at us with an awkward smile.

“I should go check with the kitchen,” he said. “Maybe we're nearly ready to eat.”

He and Abby strode off, and I looked at my friends. George was frowning at Holly.

“
That
was weird,” she said.

“What?” Holly asked, crinkling her brow like she had no idea what George was referring to.

“You didn't see that?” Bess asked, her blue eyes widening in surprise. “Jack just got pretty snarky with his dad.”

“Oh, Jack.” Holly rolled her eyes, waving her hand like Jack wasn't worth worrying about. “He's just . . . high-strung. He gets like that with everyone.”

Ned shrugged. “Maybe he was just worried about his wife,” he suggested.

“How do you know Julie and Jack?” I asked Holly.

“Oh, we went to high school together,” she replied. “
The two of them ended up going to the same college and then settling in Chicago after they got married. It's great having them back here in River Heights.”

I smiled. “Must be nice to reconnect with old high school friends.”

Holly nodded, then looked over to what I assumed was the kitchen door, where Sam was striding out. “Ooh,” she said, “it looks like Sam is going to speak now. That must mean dinner's ready.”

I looked toward the podium that had been set up at the front of the room. Sam strode up to it and gently tapped the mic.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, leaning in with a smile. “Welcome to the first annual Black Creek Farm showcase and buffet dinner! I'm so delighted that all of you could be with us tonight, and I can't wait for you to taste the produce we're growing organically and sustainably on the farm. I hope many of you will consider joining our CSA. You can grab a brochure with our membership and price info, or just come grab me later! I'd be happy to give you details.”

Then his face became more serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, Black Creek Farm is a dream of mine, but it's also something I feel very passionate about. A little over a year ago, I was working as a lawyer at a high-powered firm in Chicago. I took on the case of a young man whose wife had died of salmonella poisoning. Do you know what killed her?” He paused, looking around at the crowd. “Spinach,” he said finally.

“That's right—packaged, washed spinach. You know those salad mixes you see at the grocery store. All this woman had done—she was only twenty-five—was buy and eat some salad. But that salad was poisoned with salmonella, because our food system in this country is broken.”

I glanced at Ned. I expected him to be wearing his detached, skeptical look, but instead he looked stunned and totally absorbed in what Sam was saying. Bess and George seemed enthralled too. And Holly was glancing around at the crowd's reaction, smiling.

As we watched, Sam went on to recount where salmonella comes from (meat), and how produce
becomes tainted with salmonella (through contaminated processing equipment). I had to admit that it was shocking how easily these poisons could make their way into packaged food and how damaging they could be once they were there. But Sam went on to talk about larger problems with big corporate farms: the damage they could do to the environment, and the lack of oversight.

“Not to mention,” he added, “the food doesn't taste that good. Why would you want to eat a tomato that was picked two weeks ago, barely orange? It's never going to beat a tomato that ripened in the sun on my farm.”

He paused, clearing his throat. I noticed that there were tears in his eyes.
He really cares about what he's saying,
I thought.

“These are issues that affect me deeply,” Sam finished. “So deeply that I gave up my six-figure income and the career I'd worked decades to build, and spent my life's savings on a little farm just half an hour from here, in Idaville.” He looked up, his gaze moving from table to table. “I can promise you this,” he said. “
The food from my farm has been lovingly grown and is delicious and safe for your family to eat.” He smiled. “I hope you all will join me on my quest to make food safer, environmentally responsible—and delicious!”

Sam stepped back from the podium, and the audience erupted into applause. I clapped loudly, glancing at Ned, and saw that he was applauding heartily too. In fact, everyone at our table seemed moved by the speech—even Bess.

When the applause died down, Sam moved back from the podium and Abby scooted in, leaning toward the mic to announce, “You'll all be happy to know that the food is ready! We're going to start lining people up to move through the buffet line along the right wall, near the kitchen. Tables one through four, would you like to head over?”

I looked at the number posted in the center of our table: four.

“That's us!” Bess said, jumping up excitedly. “And not a moment too soon! I could eat a horse.”

Holly laughed. “Um, I don't think that's on the menu here, Bess. It's all vegetarian.”

Bess shrugged. “Then I guess a really big eggplant will have to do.”

My friends and I moved toward the line that was forming near the buffet table, as Holly ran into the kitchen to help a slim Asian girl around my age bring out dishes of food. I felt my stomach growling as I spotted something that looked like pasta pomodoro, some kind of vegetable curry, and . . .

“Oh my gosh,” George whispered in a hiss, and I pulled my eyes from the buffet to follow her concerned glance.

“Ohhh. . . .”

I felt my stomach clench again, this time with concern, as I spotted Julie, Jack's pregnant wife, stumbling from the kitchen. Her face was slick with perspiration, and she grabbed the door frame to steady herself.

Holly was just coming out of the kitchen with a big basket of bread, and she looked, stunned, at Julie. “Are
you okay?” she cried, putting the basket on the floor and leaning closer.

“I don't think so,” Julie whispered, her words slurring. “I feel . . .”

But before she could finish her sentence, she lost her grip on the door frame and went down—tumbling to the ground and splaying on the floor.

“Oh no!” Holly cried, kneeling and turning Julie over. “
Jack!
Where are you?!”

I heard running and turned to see Jack sprinting over from a table near the edge of the room. “What's happened to her?” he yelled. “Call an ambulance!”

Holly dug into her pocket for her phone, and in the confusion, the young girl who'd been helping set up the food ran out of the kitchen and surveyed the scene, her face paling in horror. She turned toward the buffet, where people were eagerly grabbing plates and piling them with vegetables.

“DON'T EAT THE FOOD!” she cried, running over and grabbing the spoons out of people's hands. “IT'S NOT SAFE!”

“NOT SAFE TO EAT?” GEORGE
asked out loud, her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

The girl was pulling the food back, out of the reach of the people who already surrounded the buffet table.

“Julie just finished eating,” she said quickly, shooting Holly a concerned look. “It seems like she's having a reaction to the food.”

“Oh no,” Holly whispered, her gaze going blank. But then she seemed to shake herself and ran behind the table. “Yes, EVERYONE BACK UP! We won't
be serving dinner until we get this figured out.”

Together, Holly and the other girl, who was wearing a handwritten name tag that read
LORI
, packed up the food that had been placed out and carried it back to the kitchen. The people gathered around the buffet table made little murmurs of disappointment, but most everyone's eyes were on Julie, still sprawled on the floor, now with her head in her husband's lap. He fanned her with a folded napkin, but she remained unconscious.

I looked from Julie to Ned, standing next to me. He looked as worried as I felt. “A bad vegetable can make you that sick?” he hissed to me under his breath. I shrugged; I'd been wondering the same thing.

It was only minutes before the paramedics arrived—running into the community center with a stretcher and heading right to Julie's side—though it seemed like hours. They used smelling salts to revive Julie, who blinked at them, confused.

“How are you doing?” the female paramedic, whose name tag read
ERICA
, asked her.

Julie frowned. “Not so good,” she murmured. “I feel like—I—”

Erica seemed to read her thoughts as she raised Julie's head and turned it to the side. I heard the sounds of vomiting and glanced uncomfortably at Bess and George, who looked horrified.

“There, there,” said Erica, looking back at her colleague and making a gesture that looked like a shot. “Get it out, and then we'll give you something to stop the vomiting.”

The male paramedic—his name tag read
JAMES
—produced a small vial and injection needle. He swiftly injected the needle into the vial, sucking up the clear liquid, then pulled it out and stuck the needle into Julie's arm. “This will make you feel much better,” he said, “so we can get you to the emergency room.”

Jack looked like he wanted to jump out of his skin. “Will she be all right?” he demanded as the paramedics worked together to load Julie onto the stretcher. “Will the baby?”

“This looks like a pretty intense case of food poisoning,”
Erica said seriously. “Since she's pregnant, we need to be careful to keep her hydrated, or it can make things difficult for the baby.”

She and James strapped Julie in. “We're going to get her the best of care, sir,” James said. “Once we stop the vomiting and get her hydrated, she'll feel much better.”

Sam and Abby were standing close by, watching the action with concerned faces. “You said ‘food poisoning,' ” Sam said, a questioning look on his face.

Erica nodded. “Of course we won't know for sure until we can get her to the hospital and run some tests. But to me, this looks like salmonella, listeria, or E. coli. The effects are more intense on pregnant women.”

Sam still looked confused. “But all Julie's eaten today is food from my farm,” he said. “We're a small-scale, organic facility. You're telling me she got food poisoning from
my
vegetables?”

Erica looked from Sam to Julie, one eyebrow raised. “Sir, we won't know anything for sure for a few hours,” she said. “But in the meantime, I wouldn't serve those vegetables to anyone else.”

Sam's
face fell as Erica and James worked together to hoist the stretcher into the air and carry Julie toward the door. Jack followed his wife but stopped short as he passed his father.

“This is
just
what I've been saying,” he hissed, so low that I could barely make out the words. “You're a lawyer, not a farmer! And now Julie's paying the price.”