The Final Tap (4 page)

“Why's that?”

“I'd hired him to teach a tree tapping class here at the Farm. It's scheduled for tomorrow. He was upset that the trees are still frozen because it's been so cold. It's unlikely the sap would have run enough for him to tap trees and impress his students during the presentation.” I cleared my throat. “He was so angry about it that he stomped back to the visitor center without Benji and me. Judy—she runs my ticket office—said he stomped into the building and mumbled something about the red maples on the other side of the pasture before leaving again. My best guess is he came over here to see if these trees were as frozen as the sugar maples in the grove.”

“We're going to have to talk to Judy too,” Detective Brandon said, removing her hand from the piece of tape.

I nodded. “You can talk to any of my employees. We're all very sorry about what happened to Dr. Beeson and will do whatever we can to help.”

She shot me a look. “Just as long as you don't get involved in the investigation.”

I frowned. I knew she was referring to last summer, when I'd meddled in the police investigation of Maxwell Cherry's death. But since Detective Brandon had believed that I'd had something to do with that death, she hadn't left me much choice but to meddle.

“I want to talk to Gavin Elliot first,” the detective said.

“Gavin?” I asked. “Why him in particular?”

She scowled at me as if it was clear I hadn't listened to her warning about
non-involvement
. She was right—I hadn't.

“What about this?” the chief asked, breaking into my thoughts. He pointed at the tree where a limb had been broken off.

“I didn't notice that before.” The missing pine bough had been ripped from the tree.

Detective Brandon took a small camera from her coat pocket and snapped a picture of the broken limb.

“It looks fresh,” I said.

“It is.”

“The branch, if we can find it, may have been the one used to wipe away the tracks,” I suggested.

“Possibly,” she conceded. “Of course, it could have happened any time in the last twelve hours. It doesn't mean that this pine bough is related to Conrad Beeson's death.”

I scowled, and Chief Duffy patted my shoulder and smiled.

six

Two more police officers
joined us in the woods and searched the area under the red maples. One of them was Officer Sonders, who appeared irritated when Detective Brandon questioned how he'd secured the scene that morning.

Chief Duffy cleared his throat. “You have everything well in hand here, Candy. I'm heading back to the station. You give me a holler if you need anything.”

The detective nodded and appeared relieved that the chief had turned the investigation over to her.

He nodded to me. “I'll be seeing you at the festival this weekend. The boys and I are looking forward to it.” He was one of the Civil War reenactors who would be on the grounds to answer questions. “We should talk next year about having a battle reenactment
during
the festival. There were some battles fought in the winter.” His eyes sparkled at the idea.

I suppressed a groan. One Civil War reenactment during the summer was just about as much as I could handle.

Chief Duffy sauntered off. After he'd disappeared into the trees, Detective Brandon turned to me. “I'd like to question your staff that's here today, starting with Gavin Elliot.”

I folded my arms. “You still haven't told me why you want to talk to Gavin so badly.”

She stared down at me. What I wouldn't give for five more inches, so that we would be looking at each other
eye-to
-eye.

“Ms. Cambridge,” the detective said, “I do not have to tell you anything. This is
my
investigation.”

I sighed. I would get the information out of Gavin after she left. “Fine. He should be in the sugarhouse.”

She waved me on. “Lead the way.”

As Detective Brandon and I crossed the pasture, she continued to keep a wary eye on the oxen. Again, I held my tongue. I was pretty proud of myself that I'd been able to keep my mouth shut twice. Now, if we had to cross the pasture a third time, I couldn't make any promises that I wouldn't crack a joke.

Gavin was in the sugarhouse, as I expected. Part of his job that week, other than running the school visits, was to plan for the Farm's maple syrup production. Since it was the first year we'd done this, we wouldn't be able to make a lot, but once we could tap the trees, the sap we boiled down into syrup would be bottled and sold in the museum shop.

Steam rolled out of the open doorway. I knocked on the frame. Gavin looked up from the sugar he was stirring with his wooden paddle. His smile faded when he saw Detective Brandon standing next to me. He leaned the paddle against the edge of the metal trough. “This is about Conrad, isn't it?”

I frowned. Gavin had said the man's name as if he knew him personally.

Detective Brandon nudged me aside and stepped into the sugarhouse. “Yes. I need to talk to you.”

I stepped inside the sugarhouse too.

The detective glared at me over her shoulder. “I need to talk to Mr. Elliot alone.”

“I'd like Kelsey to stay,” Gavin said.

Detective Brandon stepped to the side as if she wanted to have a clear view of both of us. “Mr. Elliot, we can talk about it here alone, or we can talk about it down at the station in a tiny windowless room. You have a right to legal counsel, of course. Ms. Cambridge does not fill in for that.”

I rolled my eyes and was glad that my son wasn't there to see it. “Detective, please don't make this more uncomfortable than it has to be. If Gavin wants me here, let me stay. He's going to tell me everything that happened after you leave anyway.”

Gavin nodded. “I will.”

“Fine. I don't have all day.” The detective focused on Gavin. “Is it true that you threatened to kill Dr. Conrad Beeson?”

“Wh—?” I began.

Gavin stared at the top of his work boots. “I did, and I was sorry I said it the moment it came out of my mouth.”

The corner of Detective Brandon's mouth turned up. I wouldn't call it even the beginning of a smile. It was more like a twitch, a small indication that she had her prey in her sights. “And why did you threaten him?”

“I wouldn't hurt him.” Gavin braced his hand on the rickety table for support. It wobbled but held. “You have to believe that.”

“You threatened him. I don't have to ‘believe' anything.”

Gavin's shoulders drooped. “I'm not proud of that.”

She inclined her head. “So please answer my question.”

“I said it because Conrad stole from my family. I was angry, and it just came out. I didn't really mean it. I regretted it the moment the words left my mouth.”

“If you were angry enough to wish someone dead, maybe you were angry enough to carry out that threat.”

Gavin looked from the detective to me. “Conrad is dead?”

We both nodded.

His face paled. “Poor Corrie.”

“Who's Corrie?” The detective's voice was sharp.

“Conrad's daughter.”

The detective nodded. “I'll need to talk to her too.”

Gavin's brow creased. “Corrie would never hurt her father. They didn't have the world's best relationship, but I know she would never do that.”

“I need to talk to her because she is probably the next of kin.” Detective Brandon studied Gavin. “Are you implying that she might have reason to want her father dead?”

The color drained from Gavin's face. “N—no.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Do you know Corrie well?”

He blushed. “Well enough.”

So Gavin knew not only Dr. Beeson, but also his daughter, and this was the first time I was hearing about it? Why hadn't he mentioned all this when I'd told the staff that I'd hired Beeson to take over the tree tapping class?

I could almost hear the police detective tuck this latest information into the back of her brain. “So tell me,” she said. “What were the circumstances in which you made your threat?”

Gavin's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “I was at a Sap and Spile meeting, and we had a disagreement.”

Both the detective and I blinked at him. “A what?” I asked.

He sighed. “A Sap and Spile meeting.” Then he blushed. “It's sort of a maple sugaring club. We meet twice a week during February and March in the shelter house in the park.”

“What was your disagreement about? You said he stole something. What was it?” the detective asked.

“He stole sugaring rights from my family.”

“Sugaring rights?”

Gavin sighed. “My family has been harvesting the maple sugar in the park for generations. My ancestors built the sugarhouse there. Beeson ignored all that history and stole those sugaring rights from us. He swooped in and stole them.” His voice became strained.

“How did he do that?” I asked.

The detective shot me a look, but she didn't comment on me asking a question of my own.

Gavin took a deep breath. “Somehow he found out that our lease with New Hartford to tap the park's sugar maples had expired, and he went to them to ask for tapping rights before we had a chance to renew. He had no right to do that. Our family doesn't have maples on our own land. The park was the only place we could tap. Beeson has a big farm with plenty of maples of all varieties. He could have tapped those trees.”

“Maybe he didn't think he'd have enough sap to make maple syrup,” I said.

Gavin scowled as if he didn't like me trying to find an excuse for the professor. “At the last Sap and Spile meeting, Conrad was going on and on about the modern
set-up
he was using this year on my family's trees, and I just sort of lost it. I stood up and yelled at him, and I told everyone in the room what he'd done. And do you know what he did?” Gavin's voice shook. “He laughed. He laughed! He'd cheated my father and me—we were both standing right there—and he laughed. After that I said something like, ‘I could kill you over this.'”

I inwardly groaned. This didn't look good for Gavin at all.

Detective Brandon's radio crackled. “That'll be the officers at the scene,” she said. “Thank you for answering my questions, Gavin. This was very helpful. I'll want to talk to you again.” She gave him a pointed look. “Even though Conrad Beeson's death hasn't officially been ruled a homicide, know that I will be treating it as such until further notice. Don't leave town.”

We watched her walk away.

I stared at Gavin, and his shoulders drooped as if he knew what I was thinking. I doubted that he truly knew—because the thought that was bouncing around in my mind had to do with where he'd been when Benji ran back to the visitor center to tell him and Judy about Beeson's accident.

seven

Before I could ask
Gavin any questions, Tiffin galloped into the sugarhouse and barked at me sharply. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was almost three fifteen. Hayden's school bus would be rolling up Maple Grove Lane at any moment.

“I've got to go meet Hayden's bus,” I told Gavin. “Don't leave until I talk to you.” I didn't wait for him to respond as I raced out of the sugarhouse toward the visitor center.

Instead of going inside, though, I headed through the gate in the wooden fence that divided the Farm from the parking lot. As I ran across the lot and started down the long driveway that angled toward Maple Grove Lane, I saw Detective Brandon leaving the grounds in her SUV. Maybe the radio call she'd received hadn't been from the officers at the crime scene after all.

Tiffin and I made it to the stop just as the large yellow school bus rolled down the road. I was grateful the detective had gone. Hayden was naturally curious, just like I was, and if he'd seen the detective on the Farm, he would have had at least a hundred questions I couldn't have answered, or wouldn't have wanted to answer.

The bus rocked to a stop in front of me, and my towheaded son bounced off it. His Lightning McQueen backpack bounced along with him, and his face lit up when he saw me. He looked so joyful that someone might think that I didn't meet his bus at the same spot every day. All the anxiety I'd felt throughout the day since finding Beeson fell away as my son wrapped his arms around my hips.

I waved to the bus driver as she drove away. “Where's your hat?” I asked as I removed mine and put it on Hayden's head.

He pushed it up, as it was way too big for him and drooped into his eyes. “On the playground?” It was more a question than a statement. “I forget.”

I sighed. I bought mittens and stocking hats for Hayden by the dozen. This winter alone he'd lost ten hats and countless gloves. I didn't bother to count the gloves and mittens that went MIA; it was too depressing. I folded the bottom of the hat back so that I could see his eyes. “Good thing I have two more stashed at the house. I hope they last through what's left of winter, or I might have to take out a winter gear loan for you.”

“Is that a police car?” he asked excitedly as we walked back to the visitor center. There was a lone police cruiser parked in front of the main entrance. One of Chief Duffy's patrol officers must still be in the woods collecting evidence from the scene.

I winced. “It is. The police visited us today,” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

Hayden's eyes shined as we drew closer to the car. “We had a police officer come to see us at school today too. He told us all about staying away from strangers.”

“I'm glad,” I said, holding his hand a little bit tighter.

“Why's there a police officer here? Did you learn about strangers too?”

I smiled. “He's just checking the woods for us to make sure we're ready for the Maple Sugar Festival.”

“The police do that? Do the police make maple syrup? That doesn't seem like a very policeman thing to do.”

I nodded solemnly. “The police do all sorts of things.”

“Can we go help him? Gavin told me all about the maple sugaring. I bet I know even more than that police officer does.”

The last thing I wanted was for Hayden to see where the professor had fallen in the snow. I was thankful it was on the on the other side of the pasture and far away from our cottage. “Oh, no. I think he needs to do it all by himself. Protocol, you know.”

He wrinkled his nose. “What does protocol mean?”

“It's the certain rules that police have to follow when they work.”

Hayden thought on that for a moment. “Like not talking when the teacher is talking is protocol for school?”

I suppressed a smile. “Exactly.”

As we walked up to the visitor center, a
middle-aged
officer was walking to his car. I remembered Detective Brandon calling him “Reynolds” at the scene. He held a large black case about the size of a sewing machine. I wondered if he'd found anything of interest in the woods, but I wasn't about to ask him about it with Hayden standing right there.

Officer Reynolds smiled at my son as he opened the trunk of his cruiser. “Didn't I see you at New Hartford Elementary a few hours ago?”

Hayden straightened up like a cadet in front of his commanding officer. “I'm in kindergarten there. I'm in Mrs. Cooper's class. She wears glasses,” Hayden added for clarification.

Officer Reynolds closed his trunk. “Thought so. Did you learn anything today?”

Hayden stood a little straighter. “Stay away from people you don't know, and if you're in trouble, find an adult you know and trust or a police officer.”

Officer Reynolds grinned. “Excellent. Now I can rest easy that you and your classmates will be safe.”

Hayden grinned as if he'd just received five gold stars for the day.

The officer nodded at me. “I'm all done here. No one should go to that part of the woods. The detective will be in touch.”

I nodded.

The officer saluted Hayden. “You stay safe out there.”

Hayden saluted back. “Yes, sir.”

I placed my hands on both of Hayden's shoulders, and we watched the police cruiser drive away.

“I think I'll be a police officer,” Hayden said.

My heart constricted at the thought of my son putting himself at risk like that. But rather than show my fear, I said, “You can be whatever you want to.”

He grinned up at me. “I know. You and Dad always tell me that.”

At least Eddie and I were on the same page in that respect. Hayden might be the only thing on Earth we agreed on, but it was the most important.

I cleared the lump in my throat. “Let's go inside. My toes are ice cubes.”

He giggled and ran for the visitor center's door.

The building was quiet. My staff—except for Gavin, who I'd asked to stay—had long since left, and there wouldn't be any more visitors. By this time of the day Hayden and I had the entire farm to ourselves, except for Jason Smith, who lived across Maple Grove Lane in a small trailer and cared for the animals. He tended to keep to himself. I wondered if Officer Sonders had spoken to him while searching the crime scene. I pulled my
ever-present
notepad from my coat pocket and added a note to drop by the barn in the morning after I got Hayden off to school. Jason may have seen something. At the very least, he could tell me if he noticed anything unusual going on in the woods over the last few days.

Before heading to my cottage, I walked through the visitor center to make sure all the lights were off and windows and doors were securely locked. Hayden followed behind me, talking a mile a minute about his day at school.

When I'd checked the final window, I interrupted his description of how a boy in his class had gotten a dreaded red card, just about the worst reprimand a child could receive in kindergarten. “Gavin should still be here, working in the sugarhouse. I want to go talk to him.”

“I want to see the maple syrup!” Hayden cried at the top of his voice, and he ran out onto the Farm grounds with Tiffin barking at his heels.

I sighed and followed at a much slower pace, only stopping to lock the visitor center's door behind me.

Hayden was already peering into the trough of boiling maple syrup when I stepped into the sugarhouse. Gavin was stirring the syrup he'd made that day, and he would continue the process the next day, which reminded me that I still didn't have a replacement for Beeson's tree tapping lecture. It was too late to cancel the class.

“Hayden, step back from the trough. It's hot,” I ordered.

Hayden took a big step back. “Can I taste it?” he asked.

“Not this batch,” Gavin said. “It's still too hot. I have some that I made yesterday that you can try.” He moved to the rickety table and opened a plastic quart jug filled with
amber-colored
maple syrup. Removing a white Dixie cup from a box, he poured a little of the maple syrup into it.

Hayden cocked his head. “You worked all yesterday, and that's all you made?”

Gavin laughed. “Hey, that's not fair. Do you know it takes forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of maple syrup? I'm doing the best I can here.”

Hayden giggled.

Gavin handed him the shot of maple syrup, and Hayden tossed it back. “Yum!” he said approvingly.

I cringed. Hayden would be bouncing off of the walls as soon as the sugar hit his bloodstream. Gavin must have realized that too, because he gave me an apologetic look over Hayden's head.

“Hayden, why don't you and Tiffin race around outside some?” I suggested. “I've been so busy today that I haven't spent much time with him. He could use the exercise. Gavin and I will come out too.” I glanced at Gavin. “We need to talk.”

Hayden took another swig of syrup and pounded the Dixie cup on the table like a seasoned drinker before shouting “Okay!” and running out of the sugarhouse with Tiffin.

I followed, taking care to keep my son in my sights. I felt edgy after the day's events, and my first priority was always Hayden. A moment later, Gavin stepped out of the sugarhouse.

Hayden and Tiffin zoomed around the trees at a dizzying pace. “I might dock your pay for giving him pure maple syrup,” I said. “He's going to be bouncing off the walls tonight.”

Gavin smiled. He knew I was kidding. Unfortunately, the smile didn't make it to his eyes. I knew he was thinking about Beeson. I was too.

“I think you're in trouble, Gavin,” I said.

He held a tiny bottle of maple syrup, no more than an ounce, in his hand and stared at the sugary liquid. “I know I'm in trouble, but I didn't kill him, Kelsey. You have to believe me.”

I leaned back against the rough siding of the sugarhouse. “I believe you, but Judy told me that you weren't in the visitor center when the school buses arrived. Where were you?”

He grimaced. “You think I ran out to the red maple grove and stabbed Conrad in the chest with his drill.”

“No, but I still need an answer. If Judy told me she didn't know where you were, it won't be long before the police hear it from her or someone else.”

“I ran to the john,” Gavin said. “Is that a crime?”

I blew out a breath that I hadn't known I was holding. “No, but did you see anyone on your way there? Anyone who can back up your story?”

Gavin's ears turned red. “Who can back up that I went to the restroom?”

I shrugged, thinking of Detective Brandon. I knew she would ask the same questions.

He held the bottle of maple syrup a little more tightly. “And no, I didn't see anyone.”

“Why didn't you tell me that you had a problem with Dr. Beeson when I hired him for the tree tapping class?” I asked.

“You'd already hired him. I didn't think it would matter, and my problems with Conrad had nothing to do with the Farm.”

I frowned. “Tell me more about Sap and Spile.”

“There's not much more to tell other than what you heard me say to the detective. It's a social club of sorts for tree tappers. There's a meeting tonight,” he added. “I don't think I'm going to go. All they'll talk about is Conrad's death. Someone there must have told the police about my outburst at him. I really don't want to face them.”

“You have to go,” I protested. “It shows that you have nothing to hide.”

“I don't know …” He trailed off.

“And I'm going with you,” I said.

A few feet away, Hayden and Tiffin fell into a heap. Hayden was crashing from his sugar high. The dog barked and the boy giggled.

Gavin looked like he'd drunk the entire quart of maple syrup straight from the bottle. “You can't—”

“No, you can't!” an angry voice interrupted.