Page 13 of Pumpkin Patch Peril (Brook Ridge Falls Ladies’ Detective Club #1)
Ruth pulled over about a quarter mile down the road, parking behind a cluster of maple trees that partially concealed the car from the Knowles property. “I mean, we need to actually look in that barn. We need to see if there’s a pumpkin in there.”
“You want to sneak onto his property?” Mona asked, though her voice carried more excitement than concern.
“Not sneak,” Ruth corrected. “Investigate. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Helen asked dryly.
“Look,” Ruth said, turning to face the group, “Tom’s behavior back there was suspicious. Why get so defensive if he has nothing to hide? And remember what Ida said about the pumpkin potentially being processed—if we don’t find evidence soon, it might disappear forever.”
Ida was practically bouncing in her seat. “Plus, we still need those tire tread photographs for comparison analysis. This could be our best chance to get definitive proof.”
“Or our best chance of getting arrested for trespassing,” Helen pointed out.
“Only if we get caught,” Mona said, surprising everyone with her willingness to bend the rules. “And Tom just drove off in his tractor. I can see him working in the far field from here.”
They all turned to look where Mona was pointing. Sure enough, Tom was visible in the distance, his tractor moving slowly through rows of late-season vegetables.
“What about Ivy?” Helen asked practically.
Ruth consulted her watch. “It’s Thursday morning. According to the sign on their farm stand, Ivy teaches a pottery class in town from ten to noon on Thursdays. She should be leaving anytime now.”
“So the property will be empty,” Ida said, her statistical mind already calculating probabilities. “Optimal conditions for reconnaissance.”
“We go in from the back,” Ruth continued, pointing toward a wooded area that bordered the Knowles property. “Stay low, check the barn windows, photograph whatever we find, and get out before Tom finishes in that field.”
“And if we don’t find anything?” Helen asked.
“Then we get those tire tread photos and rule Tom out as a suspect,” Mona said firmly. “Either way, we’ll have answers.”
Ten minutes later, they were creeping through the woods at the back of the Knowles property, moving as quietly as four amateur investigators could manage through fallen leaves and underbrush.
Ruth led the way, followed by Mona, then Helen, with Ida bringing up the rear while consulting what appeared to be a hand-drawn tactical map.
“The barn should be just ahead,” Ruth whispered, pointing through the trees.
“Are we sure Tom can’t see us from the field?” Helen asked nervously.
“He’s at least half a mile away and facing the other direction,” Ida reported, having conducted what she called a “geometric visibility analysis” using her phone’s compass app.
They emerged from the woods at the edge of a small clearing, the Knowles barn looming ahead of them like a rustic fortress. It was larger than they’d realized from a distance—big enough to hide a stolen pumpkin and then some.
“Windows are on the east side,” Mona observed, pointing to a row of dusty glass panes about six feet off the ground.
“Too high to see through from ground level,” Ruth noted with frustration.
“Not if we boost each other up,” Ida suggested with surprising enthusiasm for someone approaching seventy.
They crept around to the east side of the barn, where four grimy windows offered potential views into the interior. The first window was too dirty to see through clearly, but the second one had been recently cleaned.
“Ruth, you’re the tallest,” Helen whispered. “Can you see anything?”
Ruth stood on tip-toes and peered through the clean window, shading her eyes with her hands to cut the glare. “I can see... hay bales, some farm equipment, a workbench... but no pumpkin.”
“Are you sure?” Mona’s voice was laced with disappointment.
“Yep,” Ruth turned from the window. “No pumpkin in there.”
Their shoulders slumped in disappointment.
“We still need those tire tread photographs,” Ida reminded them, ever focused on her mathematical approach to crime solving.
They made their way back outside, carefully closing the barn door behind them, and located some tractor tracks near an equipment shed.
Ida immediately began photographing the tracks from multiple angles, paying particular attention to the distinctive tread patterns that would allow for comparison analysis.
“These are perfect,” she whispered excitedly, reviewing the images on her phone. “Clear detail, good lighting, multiple angles for mathematical analysis.”
“How long before we can compare them to the tracks at Brenda’s farm?” Ruth asked.
“I’ll need to review the photos we took yesterday and run some comparative measurements, but I should have preliminary results by this afternoon.”
Helen was serving as lookout, keeping watch for any sign of Tom’s return from the distant field. “We should go,” she urged. “He could finish that row any minute.”
The sound of a tractor engine growing closer sent them scrambling back toward the woods with their evidence safely photographed.
“Ladies,” Tom’s voice called out from somewhere behind them as they reached the tree line, “I see you trespassing. And I know what you’ve been doing.”
They didn’t stop to respond, crashing through the underbrush toward Ruth’s car with the ungraceful haste of people who’d been caught red-handed in activities they couldn’t explain to law enforcement.
“Did he really see us?” Helen panted as they reached the car.
“Does it matter?” Ruth replied, starting the engine with shaking hands. “We got what we came for.”
“Evidence,” Ida added triumphantly, clutching her phone with its precious cargo of tire tread photographs and crime scene documentation.
Ruth started the engine and pulled away from the Knowles property with perhaps more speed than was strictly necessary. “I think it’s safe to say Tom Knowles is not happy with our investigation.”
“The question is,” Mona said, checking the side mirror to make sure Tom wasn’t following them, “is he unhappy because we’re bothering him, or because we’re getting too close to the truth?”