Til Dirt Do Us Part (A Local Foods Mystery) by Edith Maxwell Page B

everyone’s attention. “How would I know? I’m all about chickens. Cam, remember last month I told you I thought you should get some chickens?”
    Cam nodded vaguely as she let out a breath of relief.
    “I heard of a farm that’s going to lose its chickens because they were neglected. We can have them for free. We can rescue them.” Her zeal lit up the air with a brilliance impossible to miss. “My friend DJ and I can pick them up tomorrow.”
    Even as she foresaw a myriad of problems, Cam couldn’t help smiling.
    “Let’s take it off-line, Alexandra, okay? It could work, but we’ll need to discuss it a little more.”
    The young woman nodded. “I’ll help you build the coop. I’ve been studying the whole chicken deal. You know you can temporarily pen them around raspberry bushes, and it’s a perfect symbiotic relationship. The bushes shade the chickens and give them bugs to eat, and the hens keep the soil weed free and aerated. You really can’t lose.”
    “We’ll sit down and work it out. Just not right now, all right?”
    Alexandra agreed and set about assembling her share.
    “Hey, what happened to the fish shares?” Wes asked Alexandra. Earlier in the year Cam had agreed to let her farm be a pickup site for a community-supported fishery as long as it was at the same time as her shareholder pickup. Cam hadn’t signed up. With everything else happening, she hadn’t realized the fish truck was missing today.
    “You got an e-mail survey,” Alexandra said. “Not enough people wanted to renew their shares or bothered responding, so we’re off the distribution route. It’s our loss.”
    Wes, carrying a full basket, left without saying good-bye a few moments later. Cam fluffed up the herb bundles in their jar of water and straightened a bunch of flowers in the bucket on the floor. She consolidated the remaining pile of squash and made sure the greens looked fresh and sufficient. She wandered into the sunshine outside the wide door and lowered herself onto the solid bench facing the back of the farm. She closed her eyes for just a moment, inhaling the aroma of still-fresh wood, a whiff of drying herbs, the scent of chrysanthemums warmed by the sun.
    “You are doing a splendid job out there.”
    Cam’s eyes flew open. Diane Weaver sat on the bench next to her.
    “Sorry. I must have dozed off. What did you say?”
    “I said the fields look great.” Diane gestured toward the back of the property.
    “Well, they looked a lot better in late June, but thanks. The weeds have been getting away from me lately.” Cam wrinkled her nose.
    “I thought I saw someone back in the woods. Do you have a neighbor who hikes around in there?”
    Bobby. “A neighbor,” Cam lied. “Right.” Had he been looking for her again?
    “About Wes Ames.” Diane half turned on the bench to face Cam. “Have you known him long?”
    “Since last spring. Why?”
    “Just curious. I’ve heard him speak up around town about the Old Town Hall. Did you know he’s the volunteer maintenance person for the building? The town loves it because they don’t have to pay anybody.”
    “He sure seems adamant about keeping the old building as town property,” Cam said, waving good-bye to a shareholder.
    Diane nodded. “Do you have any idea why he’s so set on that?”
    “He speaks of it like a town treasure, which I’m sure it is.” Cam stood. “I should get back inside and do my happy farmer routine.” She grimaced. “That didn’t sound too nice, did it?”
    “Hey, I’m an introvert by nature, too.” Diane rose, said good-bye, and walked off.
    Alexandra emerged from the barn door. A cell phone held high in the air, she turned in several directions until she spied Cam, then rushed toward her.
    “Call for you on your cell. It was ringing, so I picked it up. I didn’t know if you left it inside on purpose, but—”
    “Thanks.” Cam reached for the phone, but it dropped in transit, stirring up a miniature mushroom cloud of