Murder Crops Up Read Online Free PDF Page B

time to play my cards. If you ladies will excuse me?”
    She stalked purposefully toward Lois. I filled my bucket with wood chips and accompanied Tamiko back around the garden. Lois was in conversation with Rita when we passed, but we walked by quickly, motivated by a desire to put the whole thing behind us.
    I finished tidying Bridget’s garden and went over to my own. It looked pretty good; I grew things for my own table in it, since we weren’t allowed to use anything we grew there for commercial purposes. It was handy to have a place for big stuff that took room—corn, pole beans, melons, squash. I filled a bucket with winter squash to take home, and defiantly left my own cornstalks up. I had already planted fava beans where the tomatoes and melons had been; those heavy feeders had left their beds depleted of nitrogen, and fava beans would help re-fix it. My path was free of weeds, my compost pile as tidy as it could be.
    I felt very satisfied with it until I turned around and saw the small delegation blocking the end of my path. My good feelings shriveled up fast.
    Lois stood with her mouth pinched up, staring at me. Beside her, Carlotta still wore the sly smile that denoted mischief-making. Webster lingered behind the two women, and several other gardeners whose names I didn’t know crowded the path. All of them were looking at me with cold, accusing stares.
    “So.” Lois broke the silence. “Will you get a good price for those?” She pointed at the winter squash in my bucket.
    “I don’t sell the produce I grow here. You know that’s not allowed.” I tried to keep my voice even, not revealing that I felt trapped, put on trial.
    “You were at the farmers’ market last Saturday,” Lois persisted. Carlotta crossed her arms over her chest, her smile broadening. I had seen her at the market the weekend before. Now I realized that this was a carefully orchestrated attack by her.
    “I sold salad mix and winter greens from my home garden,” I said. “Anyone who sells at the market has to have their home garden evaluated. Mine passed.”
    “You’re growing salad mix here,” Carlotta pointed out, unable to resist taunting me in person. “How do we know what you’re selling didn’t come from here?”
    “Is this a trial?” I glanced around at the onlookers. A couple of them looked away. “If so, let’s get all the facts out. Carlotta, why don’t you tell all these people where you live?”
    She stopped smiling. “What does that have to do with you breaking your agreement here?”
    “Carlotta lives in Cupertino. You might ask her why she’s using a garden designated for Palo Alto residents only.”
    “I’m not—” Carlotta began, then started over. “I’m just helping my friend.” She glanced at Lois.
    “And if you’re not a gardener here, how would you know whether I spread Bermuda grass around other people’s gardens or not?” A couple of the onlookers appeared struck by this. Webster’s brows drew together. I saw that Tamiko had come over to stand by me, literally and, I hoped, figuratively.
    “I didn’t—”
    “You did spread that rumor. I want to know why.” I was angry, and I decided that my usual tactic of being meek and inoffensive and ducking trouble wouldn’t get me anywhere. “You’re doing the same thing at the senior center—another place you hang out that’s for Palo Alto residents. If you have a problem with me, speak up. Don’t make up these lies and expect to get away with it.”
    “It’s slander, you know.” Tamiko contributed this. “You could be sued.” She glanced at me. “My daughter is an attorney. She could advise you about legal steps to take, Liz.”
    Carlotta’s face mottled. “You can’t prove anything,” she hissed.
    “She did say you threw the Bermuda grass on my garden.” Webster looked confused. “Why would she say it if it wasn’t true? And someone put it there.”
    “Why would you, Carlotta? Are you still blaming me for not