Farm Fresh Murder (20 page)

“Abner, you’d better tell me exactly who that was,” I said as I closed the door and glared back at my horrified friend.

“Police, open the door!” Officer Brion yelled from outside.

I have no idea how what happened next happened, but apparently Sam didn’t have the patience to wait for me to turn the knob again. He either put a good shoulder into the door or kicked it. His maneuver slammed it open, and it caught me in my side. I was propelled through the air and farther into the cabin, landing on my back. As I saw the pretty white stars circling above, I was conscious long enough to be grateful I hadn’t landed on the hammer this time.

As I came back to consciousness, I experienced that “where
am I, who am I?” sense of discombobulation. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the sky. It was lovely—mostly blue with a few clouds. The sun must have been pretty low, because I couldn’t find it.

In a delayed reaction, the pain came next, and all at once. My left hip, my right arm, and the right side of my head hurt in ways I hadn’t ever experienced, even when I broke my leg in high school after falling down a flight of stairs.

“Ohhh,” I groaned involuntarily.

The pain also reminded me of where and who I was. But where was Abner? And Officer Brion? I lifted my head from what I realized was a pillow, and I looked around.

I was on a stretcher next to an ambulance. There were another ambulance and three police cars in the space around me. There were lots of official-looking, uniformed people, too—police officers and EMTs.

“Miss, you okay?” someone said as he appeared next to me. The EMT, who had a buzz cut and friendly eyes, looked very young and very concerned.

“I think so.”

“You need to rest. You don’t have a concussion, but you’re pretty bruised. We put an IV in you with some pain medication.”

“I don’t think it’s working.”

The young man checked the mechanisms that made up the IV and said, “You should feel it kick in any second. You haven’t been out for long, that’s the good news.”

“Okay. Where’s Officer Brion?”

“Right here, Becca,” he said as he appeared on my other side.

“Sam.” I sat up again as the EMT put his hands lightly on my shoulders to push me back down. “Where’s Abner?”

“He’s on his way to the jailhouse, Becca. How’re you doing?”

“Fine, but how is he, how is Abner?”

“He feels terrible that he put you in a dangerous situation, but I think he was probably glad we found him. It’s not easy to hide all the time.”

“Damn, I had him talking, Sam. He hadn’t told me much yet, but I thought I might get him to give me something.” I put my hand to my tender temple. “Hey, did you see that brown truck?”

“No. I walked to the cabin from Abner’s house. I heard the gunshot and ran, but by the time I made it to the cabin, the vehicle was out of sight. Did you see anything else about it—license plate, bumper sticker, broken light, anything else?”

“No, it was a very plain brown truck.”

Sam looked at the EMT, who nodded, apparently giving permission for him to continue asking questions.

“Becca, I know you don’t feel well, but I need you to tell me everything you can about what you and Abner discussed, and I need you to do it now, before you forget anything and before they take you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“It’s for the best,” the EMT said.

“Did I break any bones?”

“No.”

“I don’t have a concussion?”

“No.”

“I’m just a little beat-up?”

“A lot beat-up,” the EMT said.

“I’m very sorry about my part in that,” Sam said, sounding more human than he ever had.

I glanced at him, at the EMT, and back at Sam.

“I’m not going to the hospital. I’ll tell you about the entire conversation if you get this IV out of me and help me off this stretcher.”

The corner of his mouth quirked as he and the EMT shared a look that made me angry.

But the EMT took out the IV, and Sam helped me off the stretcher and to his car. I got to sit in the front seat with the door open as he, obviously in charge, spent a few moments giving directions to other police officers and telling the EMTs that one ambulance could leave but one should remain just in case I changed my mind and did need a fast ride to the hospital, or if the search of the woods and cabin turned up someone else who was hurt.

Other than Allison, he was probably the most efficient person I’d seen in action. He knew how to take charge without being annoying and he knew what to do—in my experience, so many people who want to be in charge don’t ever have a real plan. I suspected that Sam Brion, like Allison, always had a plan.

“He’s not married, you know.” Officer Vivienne Norton and her muscles had come up next to me.

I blinked. “Well, that’s probably a good thing, because I think I’m going to ask him out to dinner.”

Officer Norton smiled and winked. I wasn’t about to burst her bubble by telling her that the date wouldn’t be real, but just a way to further investigate the murder.

“Does he date much?” I asked. I was suddenly curious about the non-law-enforcement side of Sam Brion.

“Not really. Some. He moved here only about a year ago. No one knows much about his past, except that he’s never been married and has no children. There was either a fiancée or an almost-fiancée or something, but no one can get the details.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Chicago.”

“Interesting,” I mumbled.

Officer Norton excused herself and got back to work.

“Okay,” Sam said, as he got into the driver’s seat. “I think I can take your statement now. How’re you feeling?”

“Fine, really,” I lied.

“Good. Well, Becca, tell me the events that led up to you going into the woods to meet with a
murder suspect
, and what happened while you were there—talking to a
murder suspect
—and what that
murder suspect
had to say.”

“I know, it was stupid.”

“Yes, it was. You know I could have you arrested?”

“For what? Being stupid?”

“I’d think of something, and I’d make it stick.” His mouth twitched again. “But I’m not going to arrest you. In fact, I’m so relieved that you’re okay, I think I might actually find a way to forgive your stupidity—if you never, ever do it again.”

“Pinky-swear.” I imitated Helen Justen’s promise.

“Good. Now tell me everything.”

And I did. I told him
almost
every single thing that I knew. I even told him about Ian working at Smithfield for a year. He knew Ian had worked there and didn’t act as though he had any particular suspicions about him, which was good. He listened, asked a few clarifying questions, and took notes. He told me that my job of investigating murders was coming to a close. The one thing I didn’t share with him was the fact that Ian thought he remembered Abner being at Smithfield a little while back. Ian said he would call Officer Brion and share that detail. If he had, great; if not, I didn’t want to mention something that might make Abner seem even more suspicious. Oh, and I didn’t tell him about kissing Ian.

“Sam, did you talk to Pauline Simonsen about her past with Abner? Did you show her the pictures?”

He thought about it a moment before answering. “I did and I did, but I’m not able to share her answers with you. She said some things that lead me to . . . well, lead me to need to investigate some things further. I’m not just being difficult, Becca, but I can’t tell you what she said.”

“Okay. But Sam, if Abner was the murderer, then who shot at us? That must have been the murderer.”

“Becca, most of the evidence points toward Abner. I don’t know who shot at you, but I’ll figure it out. I won’t keep Abner under arrest if I can find any evidence anywhere that gives me a better suspect.”

“But what about Abner’s insistence that he’s being framed?”

“That’s a common thing for people under arrest to say.”

I sighed. I was suddenly very tired.

“Oh, hey, let’s get you home. I’ll drive you, and have Officer Norton bring your truck.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It’s either that or the hospital.”

“Okay, take me home.”

The arrangements were made, and in record time we were on the road.

“Sam,” I said, “I know I’m out of the investigation business”—I wasn’t, but it was better that he thought I was—“but I have an idea.”

“Okay.”

“Allison has planned a dinner for all the vendors and their families for Sunday night—it’s a fall equinox thing, but it’s mostly a time for the vendors and their families to come together before many of them leave until next season. It’s a yearly event and very important to many of the vendors. They get to relax and socialize with the people they work with. Anyway, Allison thought she might need to cancel it in light of the murder, but everyone still wanted to go, so we’re going to take some time to honor the memory of Matt Simonsen.”

“Sounds like a good thing.”

“Anyway, maybe we, uh, maybe you could go, well, would you like to go? We’ll do some undercover investigating. It could be . . .” It didn’t feel right saying that it wasn’t a real date, but I didn’t want him to misunderstand, either. I searched for the right words. Fortunately, he saved me.

“I get it. It would be a good idea for me to be there, but if I just showed up, people would think of me as the police. If I’m with you, maybe everyone will relax.”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Great idea. I accept. I’ll pick you up at . . . ?”

“The dinner starts at six.”

“Okay, I’ll come get you about 5:30.”

“No, come get me at four. I’m sore, but the dinner isn’t until day after tomorrow. I’ll be fine, and I want to be there early to help Allison set up.”

“Deal,” he said doubtfully. He looked at me as though he thought the date might not happen at all. I was probably a scary mess, but I wouldn’t miss the dinner no matter how banged-up I felt.

We pulled into my driveway and were greeted by a very happy and annoyed dog. Hobbit had expected me home much earlier, and her entire body shook with irritated love. I pulled my sore body from the car and attempted to look like I didn’t hurt all over. The EMT had given me some pain medication? I couldn’t imagine how bad it would have been without it.

“I’ll check your house, and then I want you to lock up and set the alarm,” Sam said.

“Thanks.” I considered going to Allison’s again, but the way I felt, I knew there would be no better place for me than my own home, my own tub, my own bed, and next to my own dog. I’d make double sure the alarm was set.

I waited outside with Officer Norton, who had followed us in my truck, as Sam searched the premises. There was no more talk of Sam Brion’s personal life. Officer Norton, probably a pretty good police officer in her own right, stood beside me but kept her eyes moving over my darkening property.

“All clear, Becca. Come on in,” Sam said from the front porch.

Surprisingly, my leg didn’t fall off my bruised hip bone as Hobbit and I walked forward. Sam helped me in and made sure I was okay before he turned to leave.

“Thank you. I guess I’ll see you Sunday night,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said, without batting an eye.

“Hey, Sam, really, thank you for today. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner, and I appreciate you getting there so quickly.”

Sam smiled in yet another way I hadn’t seen before. “I think I just might have you convinced that investigating a murder isn’t wise for someone not properly trained—not to mention licensed or armed with something more effective than a hammer.”

“Yes, you have,” I lied, but I smiled before I closed the door all the way.

Hobbit and I armed the alarm and watched the police officers drive away.

“What a day, Hobbit. Hot bath for me, and then I guess I’d better call Allison.”

Because of the wonder of cell phones, I could take the hot bath and call my sister at the same time. Before I sank into the water, I inspected the newly bruised me. The side of my face looked like I’d been punched, my shoulder had an interesting starburst-pattern bruise, and my hip had a hammerhead-shaped bruise that actually might have made an awesome tattoo. Maybe I’d show that one to Ian.

As I was in the tub of relief, I called my sister. Once she got over lecturing me, she expressed her concern and told me to get over to her house or she’d be at mine in warp speed. I explained the tub and alarm situation, and we agreed I was probably just fine where I was. All in all, she wasn’t too mad, but I was sure I’d hear more from her after I healed.

There was one more call to make. I really needed to talk to Ian, but it was getting late and I didn’t want to bother him. He beat me to the punch. My phone buzzed, his number showing up on the caller ID.