Charmed To Death Part 17

"I'll walk you to the door, Charles," I said and stood.

At the door Charles said in a slight whisper, "I don't think your grandmother likes me."

"It's not that, Charles," I responded, shaking my head. "She has a lot on her mind right now. The murder has upset her and she's worried about PP International. Don't take her att.i.tude personally."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Thank you for the box of doughnuts. It was very thoughtful of you."

He took my hand in his. "My pleasure. I'd really like to see you again, Ophelia. May I call you later?"

"I think I'd like that, Charles," I said, nodding my head.

While I stood in the doorway and watched Charles pull away in his car, I thought about the way Abby had acted. What was the matter with her? I'd never seen her treat someone as coldly as she had Charles. Shutting the door, I marched back into the kitchen.

"Hey, what's up with the way you treated Charles? He thinks you don't like him."

"I don't know him well enough to make that kind of a judgment," Abby said, picking up her cup and walking to the sink with it.

"You know what I mean. I've never seen you be so distant with someone. You weren't very gracious."

Abby relaxed against the counter. "Did you see that young man's aura?"

"No, I didn't look at his aura. You said not to do that without the person's permission. You said it was rude. And what's his aura got to do with anything?"

"It has holes holes in it." in it."

"So? Didn't you tell me holes can indicate someone's upset? And I'm sure he was upset. You weren't very friendly. Anyway, doesn't an aura change from day to day?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe something else is bothering him. Something we don't know about."

"Are you going to continue to see him?"

Before I answered her, I heard another knock at the front door.

"G.o.d, doesn't anyone around here ever look at a clock?" I said, striding to the door. Fuming, I looked out the window to see Edna Walters standing on the porch.

Her eyes darted back and forth while she gripped her purse tightly in her hand.

I opened the door as she was raising one hand to knock again.

"Ophelia, I was driving by and saw Abby's truck. Is she here? I need to talk to her," Edna said and walked through the door, her eyes searching for Abby.

I stood to the side with my hand still on the door. "Come right in, Edna," I said to her retreating back.

From the doorway to the kitchen, I watched while Edna crumpled onto a chair and began to sob. What now?

"I don't know what to do, Abby. I'm afraid Harley's done it this time," she said, her voice catching as she spoke.

Abby stood next to Edna's chair, patting her shoulder and making comforting sounds.

"Okay," I said, walking into the kitchen, "what has has Harley done?" Harley done?"

Edna lifted her tear-stained face and looked at me. "Last night the storm knocked out the electricity."

"Yes, I know, Edna."

"It did at PP International's farrowing operation too. Gladys Simpson called me this morning to tell me." Edna spoke rapidly, making her false teeth click.

"Tell you what, Edna?" I asked.

"That someone had monkeyed around with PP International's emergency generator. It's supposed to kick on when the power's out, so the ventilation system stays in operation. But it didn't 'cause someone fiddled with it."

"And you think that someone is Harley?"

"Y-y-yes," she stuttered. "That many animals in a confined s.p.a.ce without ventilation, they started dying right off. Gladys said she heard PP International's lost as many as twenty sows."

"Doesn't Bill still have a deputy stationed at PP International?" I asked.

"Yes, but Gladys said the generator could've been tampered with days ago, before you found the body, Ophelia. And whoever did it was waiting for a storm to knock out the power. I know they'll blame Harley. Oh, I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do," she said, wringing her hands. "They'll put him in jail for sure."

"Edna, calm down," Abby said, rubbing between her shoulders.

Edna grabbed Abby's other hand. "Would you please talk to him? He might listen to you."

"No, she won't."

They both looked at me, surprised.

"I'll go."

I walked out of the kitchen to go change. If I was going to have a showdown with a redneck, I might as well dress the part.

Chapter Nineteen.

Harley Walter's farm was located about three miles from Abby's, not far from the proposed PP International building site. I understood why Harley didn't want eight thousand pigs for neighbors, but the dope was going about it the wrong way. And Edna was right to be afraid for him. Bill had already warned him once.

As I pulled into Harley's driveway, I tugged my baseball cap lower on my head and pushed my sungla.s.ses higher up my nose. The sungla.s.ses had been a last-minute thought. Comacho hid behind his in order to intimidate me, why couldn't I do the same to Harley?

Getting out of my car, I noticed two abandoned cars. Their wheels had been removed and they were setting on concrete blocks. An old green truck was parked next to them. Its hood was off and made the truck look as if it had been scalped. The winds.h.i.+eld was a spiderweb of cracks and weeds hid the tires from sight. The whole place had a junkyard look.

Harley puttered around in the garage, working on yet another old truck. He stopped and watched me.

"What do you want? Your witch of a grandmother send you?" he called to me as I strolled up the weed-infested yard.

Witch? Why witch? I was sure he meant the remark as an insult. I felt a flutter of irritation, but tamped it down. My job was to reason with Harley, and I couldn't do it if I were angry.

A tight smile stretched my lips. "Your grandmother asked me to talk to you. She's worried about you, Harley. Thinks maybe you're taking this PP International thing too far."

"Ha. The old biddy. I told her to keep her nose out of my business. She doesn't understand." He whirled around, putting his back to me. "She thinks by saying, 'Please, oh, please, Mr. Kyle, don't build your building,'" he said, wiggling his head and mincing his words, "Kyle will stop. Well, they won't, not until somebody stands up to them. Make them feel a little pain."

He slammed his hands down on the hood of the truck, startling me. Man, did this guy have a lot of rage inside of him. I felt sorry for Edna.

"Look, Harley," I said, trying to calm him down. "I know you're upset, but violence never solves anything."

He spun to face me, glaring. "You don't know nothing. Sometimes it takes extreme measures to solve a problem. Kyle and his buddies have to be hurt where it counts, in their pockets. They lose enough money, they'll pull up stakes and go. And it takes a man to make that happen, not a bunch of little old ladies who ought to be in some nursing home instead of running the show."

He'd already tried to insult Abby by calling her a witch. And now he said she should be in a nursing home? I felt my blood pressure do a steady rise.

"Listen, buster, one of those little old ladies happens to be my my grandmother." I whipped my sungla.s.ses off. grandmother." I whipped my sungla.s.ses off.

"You've shot your mouth off about Abby twice. Don't try it again. You may not respect yours, but you'll b.l.o.o.d.y well show respect to mine. You got that?"

"Yeah, I got it," he said, his voice carrying a sneer.

"Good," I said, standing with my hands on my hips and giving him what I hoped was my toughest look. "Your grandmother, for some strange reason, wants to keep your sorry b.u.t.t out of jail and she sent me out here. You'd better straighten up or I'll help them put you in jail myself."

Harley smirked. "I'm not going to jail. I haven't done nothing."

"You might want to practice saying that, Harley, because I imagine the next person you're going to be talking to will be Bill. And he'll cut right through your load of c.r.a.p."

"Maybe. But he can't prove anything. Anyway, my cause is just."

"You're willing to go to jail for your cause; be a martyr?"

I saw his eyes gleam while he thought of all the attention that would bring him.

"If I have to," he said and picked up a spray can. He started to walk over to the truck. As he did, he snapped some kind of mask over his mouth and nose. After shaking the can a couple of times, he sprayed the contents of the can on the engine.

"Jeez, what is that stuff? It stinks," I said, holding my nose.

He pulled the mask down. "Ether. And if you don't want to pa.s.s out, I suggest you get out of here," he said and pushed the mask back over his mouth.

When I reached my car, I looked back toward the garage. Harley stood by the truck with the can of ether in one hand. And even with twenty feet between us, I felt the anger in his eyes, staring at me from underneath the bill of his baseball cap.

I decided to drive to Abby's and give her an update on my conversation with Harley, but when I rounded the corner of her lane, I saw Bill's patrol car parked by the greenhouse. My heart jumped and I skidded the car to a halt.

"What is it? What's happened?" I said, running inside.

Abby and Bill were standing by some of Abby's plants. I detected a strange odor in the air.

"What's that smell?" I said, wrinkling my nose.

"Herbicide. Someone gave Abby's plants a good dose of it last night."

My eyes scanned the greenhouse. All of Abby's plants looked brown, as if they'd been burned. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw her maidenhair fern. Its fronds were drooping and the floor beneath the fern was covered with its leaves.

"Oh, Abby, your fern. They got it too?"

"Yes, they did," she said, her eyes filling with tears.

Abby's fern had been a wedding gift from her mother. She had carted it all the way from Appalachia when she married my grandfather and settled in Iowa. In the spring, when the temperature warmed, the fern was moved from the house to the greenhouse. The fern had sat proudly on its stand behind Abby's old-fas.h.i.+oned cash register every spring and summer since I was a child.

"Abby, I'm sorry," I said and gave her a hug.

She sniffed. "It's all right, dear. Everything has its season. I hate the poor old thing had to go this way. It would've been easier if the fern had died on its own, in its own time."

"Got any ideas, Bill?" I asked.

"Not really, but somebody sure was busy last night. I imagine poisoning Abby's plants is related to the incident at PP International. We think the hogs are being poisoned too."

"You're kidding," I said. "I thought they were dying because of the lack of ventilation last night?"

"Yeah, we did too. But when the manager checked the feed bins this morning, he noticed one of the lids was on c.o.c.keyed. He thinks something's been dumped in the feed. They've sent samples to the lab, but we won't know till later on this afternoon."

"But wouldn't the manager have seen or heard a noise?" I asked.

"No. His trailer is on the other side of the property and the bins are behind the hog buildings." Bill scratched his head and snapped his notebook shut. "Guess I'd better go talk to Harley. Kyle's fit to be tied-the big boys are coming in from Chicago and he's going to want answers to give them. Maybe I can shake Harley up."

"What big boys from Chicago?"

"From PP International's corporate office."

"Wait a second, Bill. I-" I was interrupted by my cell phone ringing. I answered it.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Hi, Ophelia."

"Charles." I walked over to the corner of the greenhouse, away from Bill and Abby.

"I know this is kind of sudden, but I just read in the paper there's a wine tasting at a cafe in Des Moines tonight. Would you like to attend?"

"Gosh, Charles, I can't. It sounds like fun, but now isn't a good time. Abby's greenhouse was vandalized last night."

"I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, but I do have to go. I'll call you later. Bye." I disconnected and looked over to see Abby watching me.

"What?" I said defensively.