The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)(11)

“But . . . why?” I asked. I understood what Sam was saying, about the relief. This made it easier for me, in a way: now I just had to find the culprit. But I had a feeling that was going to be the hard part.

Sam sighed, seeming to think. “I . . . don’t know,” he said finally.

Of course you don’t. It’s kind of amazing to me, how many people who are being targeted have no idea that anyone’s mad at them. And with Sam, I could understand: he seemed like a perfectly nice guy. Who would want to destroy a kind man’s organic farm?

“You don’t have any enemies?” Bess pressed, looking around at the damage.

“I don’t.” Sam shrugged, as if to say, What can you do? “Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Maybe someone from your lawyering days?” I suggested. “Someone you defended but couldn’t get off? Someone who was on the opposing side of a case you won?”

Sam looked thoughtful, as though he was searching his memory, examining each case one by one. “Every lawyer has those sorts of enemies, if you could call them that,” he said. “But I can’t think of a single person who might be angry enough to track me down and try to destroy my farm.”

Hmmmm. George knelt down and picked up a pepper plant that looked more or less intact, carefully placing it on the table. “What about the farm?” she asked.

“What about it?” Sam asked, confused.

“This might sound strange, but does the farm have any enemies?” she asked. “Someone who was inconvenienced, or lost money, when you guys set up the farm here?”

Sam frowned, looking off into space.

“Someone you’re competing with?” I prompted. “Maybe a bigger farm nearby?”

“There’s a bigger farm down the road, sure, Sunshine Farm,” Sam said. He turned to look me in the eye, and his expression was uncomfortable. “There are farms all over this area. And I did have a brief . . . disagreement, I guess you’d call it, with them.”

“What was it?” Bess asked, looking eager.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, it was silly. Just a little thing. They had planted their spinach very close to my berry fields, encroaching onto my land, and the chemicals they treat their crops with were leaching into my strawberries. I couldn’t let that go on, since strawberries soak up a lot of chemicals. So I complained to them, and they weren’t happy about it, but they eventually had to replant their spinach farther away from my land.”

This was intriguing. “Did it cost them money?” I asked. Most of the cases I work on have money at the root of them.

Sam shook his head. “Some, sure. A little. But I really don’t think Sunshine Farm is holding a grudge,” he said.

Just at that moment, the door to the greenhouse was pushed open. An older man with leathery tan skin and a grizzled gray beard stood there, wearing a baseball cap and a black hoodie. He looked startled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. . . .”

But Sam was already waving his hand like he was waving away the man’s concerns. “Don’t worry about it, Bob,” he said. He gestured to Bess, George, and me. “These are just friends of mine. They’re looking into the vandalism here and what’s been happening with the vegetables.”

Bob nodded, a little nervously, I thought. “Oh,” he said. “Okay.” Then, after a few seconds: “It’s a terrible thing, what’s happening with the vegetables. People getting sick.”

“Yes,” Sam replied shortly. He turned back to us. “Bob helps us pick the produce when we have a busy week. He lives in town. Rides his motorcycle out here.”

Bob nervously fingered the string of his hoodie. He looked at me, like he felt he had to explain himself. “Sam has been very good to me,” he said. “I hope you catch whoever’s doing the bad stuff.”

Huh. I nodded. “Yeeeeeah, I hope I do.” I smiled, and he backed away.

“I’ll come back later,” he called to Sam.

We all watched the doorway after his retreat, and after a few seconds, Sam said quietly, “Bob’s had a tough life. He’s a Vietnam vet, you know. He’s been a little down on his luck, and we can use extra hands on the farm, so I’ve been paying him to help out on the weekends.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You . . . don’t think he might . . . ?”

Sam turned to me, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “Bob? Oh, gosh. No. He has absolutely no issue with me. I’ve done nothing but help him.”

There was silence for a minute. So Sam doesn’t want me to suspect Bob, I thought, frowning. Which makes me even more suspicious.

“So, why?” Bess asked suddenly, seemingly out of the blue.

Sam looked at her in surprise. “Why have I helped out Bob?” he asked. “I don’t know. It seemed like the decent thing to do.”

“No.” Bess shook her head. “Right before you came in, you were saying you don’t think Sunshine Farm holds a grudge. I was just wondering why.”

“Oh.” Sam laughed, still seeming a little uncomfortable. “Well, in short, because of their daughter,” he replied. “Lori Park. You met her at the dinner the other night.”

At the dinner. My mind flashed back to the young girl who’d been helping prepare the food. “The girl around our age who was working in the kitchen?” I asked.