twenty-eight

I can’t say I slept much that night. I tensed at every noise the old cottage made and every sound from outside. When you live in the woods there are many noises: hoots from owls, deer crashing through the brush, and the late winter wind whistling through the trees. It’s easy to be spooked. I’d never been frightened in the cottage before, not even last summer when there’d been a killer on the Farm during the Civil War Reenactment. Now, I was nervous, and I hated it. I hated it that the Hooper boys and whoever killed Dr. Beeson had robbed me of the peace that the cottage had always given me.

I knew I should have called Detective Brandon as soon as Jason left, but it was already late. I soothed my guilt by promising myself that I’d call her in the morning.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up in a jolt when my alarm went off at six. It was Saturday, the first full day of the Maple Sugar Festival, and there was so much to do before the visitors started arriving for our nine a.m. opening time.

Tiffin was asleep on the floor beside my bed as always, but to my surprise, I found Frankie curled up at the foot of the bed. He glared at me with his one good eye.

“Were you protecting me, Frankie?” Maybe the visit from Jason, the cat whisperer, had worked wonders on Frankie after all.

The one-eyed cat hissed and jumped off the bed as if offended by the very idea.

Then again, maybe not.

I didn’t have time to worry about Frankie and his poor manners. I had to get going as quickly as possible and check everything over before the visitors arrived. Benji and the rest of the staff would be arriving within the hour. I threw back the covers and headed for the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Tiffin and I were out the door. I scanned the yard as I went. The only evidence that anyone had been in the yard the night before were footprints in the thawing ground. I would call Detective Brandon and tell her about the evening’s adventure just as soon as I checked the grounds and made sure that everyone was ready for the festival. I knew I was just making excuses, and the longer I put the call off the more annoyed the detective would be with me for not calling earlier.

Tiffin and I headed down the pebbled path through the maple grove to the visitor center. Tiffin placed his nose to the ground like a bloodhound, then suddenly lifted it and took off down the path.

“Now what?” I muttered as I ran after him.

It didn’t take me long to realize what Tiffin was worked up over. In the maple grove, it was obvious. All the pails were knocked off the trees. Sap dripped from the spiles in the sugar maple trunks and fell to the thawing ground.

The sugarhouse door swung on its hinges. I ran inside to see that the table had been overturned, and Gavin’s vials of maple syrup, which he showed to visitors to illustrate the difference in color among the grades of syrup, were smashed on the floor.

Tiffin tried to get around me to go into the room.

“No, Tiff, back. You could cut your paw on the glass.”

He whimpered and stepped back.

I couldn’t put off my call to Detective Brandon any longer. Something had to be done about those Hooper brothers, because I knew they were behind this. I removed my cell phone from my pocket and dialed a number that unfortunately I knew by heart.

Despite the early hour, the detective answered her phone on the first ring.

“Detective? It’s Kelsey Cambridge.”

“I know that from the caller ID. What do you need, Ms. Cambridge?”

If nothing else, the detective had great bedside manner, I thought sarcastically.

“I need to report more vandalism on the Farm, and I know who did it.” I went on to tell her about my discovery, my visit from the Hooper boys the night before, and my suspicions about them.

“Why didn’t you call me last night with this information?” Her voice was sharp, even sharper than usual.

“I meant to.” I knew it wasn’t great as far as excuses were, but it was the best that I had.

She snorted. “I’m on my way.”

After the detective hung up, I called Benji, Gavin, and a few of the part-time staff and asked them to come in early to help me clean up the mess.

Benji was the first to arrive, even beating Detective Brandon. She’d been on her way to the Farm when I’d called. She immediately joined me at the sugarhouse to assess the damage. It wasn’t as bad as I’d first thought. It could be cleaned up quickly before the festival began.

She looked around the sugarhouse. “Who did this?”

“I know who,” I said and I told her about my encounter with the Hoopers. “We should start cleaning up.”

“Not yet,” Detective Brandon said from behind us. “My team and I need to take a look around.”

I turned to find her standing in the doorway to the sugarhouse. “Detective, we have to open in two hours for the festival. The sugarhouse must be up and working by nine. We have three hundred people coming to the Farm today to see how maple syrup is made.”

“This is a crime scene and may be connected to Conrad Beeson’s murder,” she said. “I’ll decide if and when you can enter the building.”

“But—”

“The longer you argue with me, the longer it’ll take.”

I glared at her, and Benji and I backed off.

Benji scowled. “She’s such a pain. You know she’s throwing her weight around just because she doesn’t like you.”

“Maybe that’s a tiny part of it, but she’s right. She has to make sure there isn’t anything that connects this to the murder.” The reality of the circumstances settled on my shoulders like an oxen’s yoke. A man had been murdered, and the fact that I was alone with two possible culprits last night turned my stomach. Detective Brandon was right. I should have called her last night.

Benji wasn’t cutting Detective Brandon any slack. “But you said it was Scott and Shaun Hooper who came to the Farm last night.” She watched me. “Do you think they killed Beeson?”

“I don’t know, but at the very least, I do believe they saw something.” I told her how Laura and I went to the Hooper place late yesterday afternoon.

“No wonder they came over here and trashed the sugarhouse,” Benji said.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Ben.”

She sniffed. “In any case, we’ll be ready to set up just as soon as the detective gives her blessing. We can have this cleaned up in no time. Alice is already in the kitchen with her staff preparing for the pancake breakfast.”

“Good.” I smiled, feeling a tiny bit better.

“Did Barn Boy see anything?” Benji asked.

I arched an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her big brown eyes in return. “Fine. Did Jason see anything?”

“No. But he heard the shouts. He came by my cottage, but the Hooper boys were gone by then.”

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand what the Hooper boys meant by it. Why would they be so stupid as to do this?” She gestured to the pails and spiles on the ground. “I mean, you saw them. You know it was them.”

Good question.

“Kelsey!” Chief Duffy’s booming voice pulled me away from my conversation with Benji. “I came as quick as I could, but one can’t just throw on regimental uniforms.” The police chief was in his full Confederate General uniform, all the way down to the ceremonial sword. “Heard about your troubles on the radio. You think it was the Hoopers?”

I nodded. “They were here last night.” I started to tell him and Officer Sonders about my encounter.

Detective Brandon must have heard the chief as well, because she came out of the sugarhouse. She wasn’t smiling, not that that was unusual.

“We need the sugarhouse today,” I said. “The Maple Sugar Festival could be ruined without it.”

“’Course you do. ’Course you do. Candy, are you done here? Kelsey and her staff need to get in there and prepare for the festival.”

“Chief, I just arrived. I still have to fingerprint the scene.”

He held his coat by the lapels. “Officer Sonders can do that while we run over and interview the Hoopers. Seems to me that your time would be much better spent talking to potential witnesses than keeping Kelsey and her staff from preparing for the day.”

“But Chief—” the detective protested.

“Officer Sonders will give it the once-over, and then we’ll let them clean up. Won’t you, Sonders?”

The young officer nodded.

Detective Brandon glared at me, as if the police chief overruling her was somehow my fault. Yes, I wanted her to leave the sugarhouse as soon as possible, but I hadn’t told the chief to kick her out.

Detective Brandon cleared her throat. “I’ll be at the Hoopers’.” With that she stomped away.