Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) (18 page)

Candy read it again, her gaze narrowing in on the words.

Neil Crawford?

Miles Crawford’s son?

She glanced up at Wanda, who had mentioned Miles’s son just a little while ago, when they were talking up in Candy’s office.

What was he doing out at Blueberry Acres?

Candy looked back down at the cryptic message, her head tilted in thought. After a few moments she keyed off the phone and slid it back into her pocket, her eyes lifting toward Cotton and the other ladies, who were still staring at her.

She gave them a smile. “Let me see what I can do.”

The Jeep kicked up a little dust as she drove up the dirt lane toward the farmhouse at Blueberry Acres. Sunlight reflected off the barn’s tin roof, and off the hood of an old red Saab wagon parked in the driveway. It didn’t look familiar, and the Vermont plates probably explained why. She spotted Doc’s truck pulled over in front of the Saab, and off to her right, in an open, level area past the far side of the barn, near a stand of trees, she saw . . . something else.

“What the heck is that?” she said to herself, squinting out through the passenger-side window.

It looked like a round white tent, but unlike any tent she had seen before. There was something rugged yet exotic about it. It had a Marco Polo feel, as if it had been plucked off the plains of Asia from some nomadic tribesman.

And then she saw the dog.

He had apparently heard the Jeep crunching to a stop on the driveway, and he was coming to greet her, loping along the side of the barn in a friendly manner, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth, a great shaggy beast whose whole body seemed to be moving in anticipation of meeting her.

He padded along happily toward her and came around the front of the Jeep just as she shut off the engine, and by the time she opened the door and stepped out, he was waiting for her. He gave her a soulful look and took a few casual steps forward to nuzzle her hand with a cold nose.

“Well, aren’t you a friendly one?” Candy said, leaning over to scratch a little behind the dog’s ears. “You’re a big fellow, too, aren’t you? And what might your name be?” She patted him on the side several times, looking up and around. “And where did you come from?”

She heard someone call to her from the house, and looked over to see a bearded man emerge from the back door and cross the porch. He waved as he came down the steps onto the driveway, looking like he’d lived here for years. “He seems to like you,” the bearded man called to her, indicating the dog with a flick of his finger.

He was a tall man with an easy gait and an easy smile, an untamed head of hair that hung over his ears, and loose-fitting clothes that looked well lived in. His weathered face, lightly sunburned on the high cheeks and thin nose, was half hidden by a full beard, and his broad shoulders and sinewy arms, revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of his faded flannel shirt, gave him the appearance of someone who spent a lot of time out of doors splitting wood and pulling out tree stumps.

“He’s very friendly,” Candy called back, continuing to pet the dog, who had looked over at the sound of his master’s voice but remained tight by Candy’s side, apparently content with the attention he was receiving. “What’s his name?”

“He’s called Random,” the bearded man said as he approached, “and he usually doesn’t take to strangers so easily. He’s a bit of a loner, like his master, I’m afraid. But he’s obviously very fond of you.”

“Well, he has good taste,” Candy said with a quick smile, and she affectionately scratched the top of the dog’s head.

“I couldn’t agree more.” The bearded man stopped a couple of steps away and held out a long-fingered hand, with whitish fingernails against his tanned skin. “I’m Neil Crawford.”

“Hi, Neil. I’m Candy.”

They shook. Candy’s small hand seemed to disappear into Neil’s, which felt warm and a little callused. With some effort she pulled her gaze away from his and looked back down at the dog. “Random, huh? Why Random?”

Neil looked down at the dog as well. “It’s from a book I read ten or twelve years ago, called
Roverandom
, by Tolkien. It’s the story of a dog’s adventures after he’s turned into a toy by a wizard. I’d read all Tolkien’s books when I was a kid, of course, and we had a family dog named Rover, so when
Roverandom
came out, I read that, too, and it made me think of that old dog.”

Neil flicked a finger at the big shaggy animal still leaning up tightly against Candy’s leg. “Then, a few years ago, I got this one as a puppy from a friend of mine, and he reminded me of the dog in the book. I thought about naming him Rover Two or something like that, but I went with Random instead. And he fits his name. He’s a wanderer, and tends to roam around looking for adventure. But he always finds his way back home.”

As if in response, Random appeared to spy something in the high grass at the edge of the fields to their right, and off he went with a low gruff in the back of his throat to see what he could find.

Candy and Neil stood in silence for a few moments, watching him go, out past the barn and the odd tent behind it. Candy indicated the new addition to the landscape. “I suppose that’s yours?”

Neil nodded. “It’s my yurt,” he said with a smile.

“Your
yurt
?” Candy turned back to him with a quizzical look.

Neil was about to explain when Doc came out of the house and called to them with a wave. “Hey, you two! Come on inside! I’ve got lunch on the table.”

He’d made grilled cheese sandwiches with rye bread and thick slices of sharp cheddar he’d picked up at the deli in town, accompanied by homemade potato salad, thick deli pickles, and iced tea with fresh slices of lemon.

As they ate, Neil filled them in on the past twenty-four hours.

“I was as shocked as anyone by Dad’s death,” he said, his smile falling away as he addressed the difficult subject. “I have a fifteen-acre homestead in Vermont, west of the Green Mountains near Bristol. I moved there ten years ago with my ex-wife, who was from Montpelier”—here he paused, glancing at the both of them—“but I managed to keep the place when we broke up. Dad wanted me to come back and work the berry farm with him, but I’d more or less established myself over there. The place has a small apple orchard, vegetable gardens, and some good stands of scrub pines and hardwoods I can sell for firewood, plus a pond and some berry fields. I keep sheep as well, though the flock is only a couple dozen at this point. I make a decent living off of it, but it’s hard work to do by yourself.”

He paused, taking a bite of a crisp pickle, and gazed out the window for a few moments before he continued. “Plus, to be honest, Dad can be—well, could be—a little hard to live with at times. He wasn’t the most communicative person, which you probably know if you spent any time with him. He tends to stay to himself, much like Random out there.” Neil pointed toward the window with his head. “That’s why my mom left, I guess. But Dad and I got along okay. He gave me a lot of advice over the years about farming and running an agricultural business. He knew what he was doing. Well, anyway, as soon as I heard what had happened to him, I drove right over. I got here late last night. I stopped by the police station this morning, and the funeral home. I’m heading out to the farm this afternoon to check it out.”

“Have the police given you any more information about what might have happened?” Doc asked.

Neil shook his head. “I haven’t been able to get much out of them. They interviewed me for about an hour, asking about his friends, acquaintances, possible enemies, that sort of thing. But I hadn’t seen him in six months or so. Last time we got together was at Christmas. We talked on the phone a few times, but both of us were pretty busy, I guess.”

He fell into silence, a hurt look coming into his brown eyes, which were flecked with streaks of yellow, Candy noticed now that she sat close to him. He seemed to be remembering what might have been, running through memories and regrets in his head.

Candy thought it was time to change the subject. “What about the yurt?” she asked, pointing out the window in the direction of the barn.

A casual smile returned to Neil’s face, outlined by his beard, which was redder than his hair. “That’s my temporary living facility. I lived in that yurt for almost a year while I was remodeling my place in Vermont. It’s surprisingly cozy. So I threw it in the car when I came over, along with some other things I thought I might need.” He paused again. “I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I got here. I’m not even sure I want to sleep in Dad’s old house, even though the police have cleared me to enter. And I’m not crazy about hotel rooms. Most of them—well, they’re not my style. I’m more comfortable on my own.” He nodded toward Doc. “Your father’s allowed me to set it up here for a few days, until I can figure out my next move, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Candy said. “Stay as long as you’d like. It’s the least we can do.”

“And the yurt’s pretty interesting,” Doc said, brightening. “It’s much studier than a tent, and he set it up in about forty-five minutes. He’s even got some furniture in there.”

“Furniture?” Candy asked in amusement as she looked over at Neil.

The smile widened just a bit. “Well, it’s not like I have a three-piece bedroom set in there—just an airbed, a folding table and chairs, a small shelf, that sort of thing.”

“I told him he could use the bathroom, kitchen, and laundry here whenever he wanted, until we get this whole thing at the berry farm sorted out,” Doc said. He glanced over at his daughter to make sure she was okay with this arrangement, but Candy had already moved on.

“So, do you have any idea what might have happened to your father?”

Neil shook his head. “I’m as much in the dark as everyone else. That’s why I’m headed out there this afternoon—to see if I can figure it out.” He paused and looked at them. “And I’d like the two of you to go with me.”

They took the Jeep, since Neil’s car was filled with his gear and the cab of Doc’s truck would have been a tight fit. Candy opened the back hatch so Random could jump up, which took a little coaxing. Then she closed it behind him and moved around to the driver’s side door. Doc waved Neil toward the front passenger seat and climbed into the Jeep’s second row, pushing aside a folded umbrella, well-used work gloves, a fleece jacket, a box of empty pots, wire flower hangers, and a few small gardening tools.

On the way out to Crawford’s Berry Farm, Neil told them why he’d asked them to accompany him. “I’d like you to help me assess the fields,” he explained. “Your microclimate is different than ours over in Vermont. I heard at the police station that Dad suspended picking for a couple of days to let the berries ripen, but I’d like to open the fields again as soon as they’re ready. I’d hate to let all those berries rot out in the fields.
Dad
would’ve hated it. Those fields were his life—and I’d like to make sure they’re harvested, as he would have wanted.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Doc said with a bit of emotion in his voice.

“I think so too,” Candy said with an approving smile. “Everyone in town will be happy if the fields are opened again—especially the league ladies. They told me they’re desperately in need of berries for their event tomorrow.”

Neil nodded. “We can take care of that, if you’ll help me put it together.”

“I’d be glad to,” Candy said. “And they’ll be thrilled. They wanted to see if they can get out here later today or tomorrow to do some picking.”

Neil considered that for a moment. “I don’t know about today,” he said thoughtfully, “since I want to spend some time at the place myself before I open it up to the public again—just to make sure everything’s in order. But tomorrow morning would work.”

“Great. I’ll let them know. They’ll be very happy to hear that.”

“And if you and Doc have time in your schedules, I’d welcome your help with the you-pick-it operation over the next couple of weeks,” Neil continued, looking back over his shoulder at Doc in the backseat. “I know you’re busy with your own farm, and I have my own place over in Vermont to look after, so I’ll be going back and forth a little. But I’m a newbie around here. I don’t have the local connections and resources you do—and that Dad did. I’ll try to pick up some of his deliveries and outlets, and keep things going as much as possible, so I can make it through the berry season.”

“We’d be glad to help you out any way we can,” Doc said.

“I’m sure lots of folks around town would be willing to pitch in as well,” Candy added. “We just need to put out the word.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” Neil said sincerely.

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to do with the place when the season’s over?” Doc asked curiously, and Candy perked up her ears at Neil’s response.

“I honestly don’t know yet,” he said. “My brother’s in Singapore on business, and until he gets back, there won’t be any decisions.”

“When will that be?” Candy asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure he’s going to make it back for the funeral. He said it could be a few days or it could be a month or two. He’s still trying to work things out. So we won’t make any immediate decisions. That’s why I just want to get through berry season first, and then figure out our next move.”

“Any chance you’ll take over the place yourself?” Doc asked.

Neil let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, shuffling it around a bit. “I don’t know, Doc. I haven’t really thought much about it. At this point anything’s possible, I suppose.”

“Why was your dad selling the place?” Candy asked.

That stopped the conversation. Silence reigned in the cabin for a few moments. Neil turned toward her as if she’d spoken in a different language. “Say that again.”

Candy hesitated, wondering if she’d misspoken. “Your dad was selling the place, right? The berry farm?”

Neil looked mystified. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” He shook his head. “About him selling the farm? No, nothing. Where’d you hear this?”

Softly, contemplatively, Candy said, “From Lydia St. Graves, last night. She snuck out to Blueberry Acres after dark and told me her side of the story. She said your father hired her to find a buyer for the place.” And Candy recounted her meeting with Lydia, as Doc listened with great interest from the backseat. She explained how Miles had contacted Lydia weeks earlier and surprised her by saying he’d decided to sell the farm. “She’d been pursuing him for years, trying to get him to sell, but he constantly refused,” Candy explained. “Then one day out of the blue he changed his mind.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Neil said. “Dad loved this place. Did Lydia say why he decided to sell?”

Candy shook her head. “No, but she said she thought there was something else going on in the background with him—that’s how she put it. Something she couldn’t identify. She said she thought she wasn’t the only one pursuing him.”

“You mean someone else wanted to buy the place?”

“That’s what it sounded like—but keep in mind, this was just Lydia’s speculation.”

Again, Neil was silent for a few moments as he looked out the windshield at the road ahead. “I guess I’m not really surprised,” he said finally, looking back at Candy. “I felt like something was going on with him for a while. He hadn’t talked much about the farm over the past year or so. And when we did talk, he was . . . well, kind of vague. Secretive.”

“In what way?” Doc asked.

Neil shrugged. “Nothing I can say for certain. Just a feeling, really. I put it up to the fact that he was living alone and getting older. Normal changes, I thought. These long New England winters have a tendency to harden people a little—physically and emotionally. I figured when he was ready to tell me more, he would. It was always like that with him. He moved at his own pace, and nothing could change him.”

“Well, this time something did,” Candy pointed out. “Something happened over the past few months that made him decide to sell, and he asked Lydia for her help. She said your father wanted her to find a nice family to take over the place and continue what he’d been doing.”

Neil nodded but said nothing. So Doc spoke up from the backseat. “Wouldn’t Miles have offered the farm to you if he was thinking of selling it?”

Neil turned toward him. “Not necessarily. Over the years we talked about it. But I always told him I had my own place. I guess he figured I didn’t want it.”

“But I still don’t understand all the secrecy,” Candy said. “No advertising, no MLS listing. Lydia was looking around for viable candidates and running them past your father. Apparently he wanted to keep everything off the record.”

“Well, he certainly succeeded. He kept it from me,” Neil said, and he was silent for the rest of the way out to the farm.

The place was deserted, as before, and eerily silent. Candy pulled to a stop near the barn, shut off the engine, and climbed out of the cabin. The wind had hushed, and high clouds filtered out some of the sunlight. She couldn’t help but feel a chill.

The place seems like a graveyard
, she thought.

But that changed once they let Random out. His nose went instantly to the ground, and he started roaming through the barn and across the fields, adding at least some sense of life to the place.

Following the dog, they walked together out through the strawberry fields, making frequent stops to check the berries. Doc liked what he saw. “They’re ready for picking,” he pronounced at the top of one of the fields, and Candy and Neil agreed.

“Especially this lower section here,” Doc said as he indicated a swath of land with a wave of his arm. “These berries are close to peak. We need to get them picked within the next few days.”

“We’ll start there tomorrow morning, then,” Neil said, his gaze roaming the fields. He looked over at Candy. “Eight
A.M.
okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll make some calls.”

“You might want to check the barn,” Doc suggested. “See what kind of supplies you can find,” and he headed off across the slope to inspect another field.

Candy thought Neil might follow, but instead he stood for the longest time without moving, surveying a nearby hoophouse with a blank expression on his face. Yellow police tape still cordoned off the building’s entrances, and some of the plastic siding had been lifted out of place, giving them a peek into the shaded interior.

“You okay?” Candy asked him after a few moments.

He seemed to come suddenly awake, as if he’d been deep in a dream. He looked over at her, blinked several times, and finally nodded. “We’ll have to make a few changes out here,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure what to do with that hoophouse. I might have to just tear it down.”

Candy took him by the arm and led him down toward the barn. “That’s a decision for another day. Come on, let’s get set up for picking.”

Miles had been an incredibly organized man, and it wasn’t difficult to find all the supplies they needed, including baskets, tables, a scale, and a metal money box sitting on the spotless workbench. Not a tool, nail, bin, brush, or container was out of place. “When I was a kid, he used to pick up my clothes off the floor in the morning,” Neil said as they gathered what they needed. “He was the one who cleaned and vacuumed the house—not my mom. He didn’t cook but he kept all the food organized. He had schedules for everything.”

They moved the folded tables near the barn entrance, so they’d be easy to set up in the morning, and lined up all the baskets. As they were finishing up, Neil said, “I’m going to check the house.”

The way he said it let her know he preferred to do it alone. Without another word, he headed off across the dirt driveway, pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. He stepped up onto the porch and disappeared inside the farmhouse.

Once alone, Candy pulled out her cell phone and called Wanda. The red-haired woman answered almost immediately. “What’s up, Chief?”

“I need to get hold of Cotton Colby and the league ladies. Do you have their numbers? And I need you to post a message on the community blog.”

She told Wanda what was going on, and ten minutes later she’d talked to four other people, including Cotton and Mason Flint, the town council chairman, and asked them to pass along the word. “We’d like to get at least a few dozen people out here in the morning,” she told those she talked to. “We have a lot of picking to do.”

She’d just ended a call to Maggie, pushing back their meeting to five, when Neil reappeared, a mystified look on his face.

“I found something inside,” he said. “I’d like you to take a look. It seems like Lydia was right.”