The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)(12)

“She’s the one,” he said. “Lori’s parents are from Korea, and there was a bit of a language barrier, so when we were having our little disagreement, Lori was called in to act as a translator.” He smiled. “It turns out she has a real interest in environmental, sustainable farming. She convinced her parents that what I’m doing at Black Creek Farm is worthwhile. Even tried to convince them to try organic farming, but they didn’t want to mess with what works, you know.”

“She wanted them to go organic?” George asked.

Sam nodded. “She’s a very clever girl, too. Came up with all these monetary reasons, did up this PowerPoint presentation. But they still said no.”

“That’s a shame,” I said.

Sam shrugged. “Well, I can understand it. Anyway, it all worked out. She comes over a few times a week to help us out and learn more about organic farming. She’s headed to the University of California next year to study agriculture.”

“Wow,” Bess said, sounding impressed. But I was only half listening. While Sam had been talking, I’d noticed something peeking out from underneath a pile of shattered clay pots and soil. It was bright blue, shiny . . .

I scurried over and lifted the object between two careful fingers. It was a pair of sunglasses with bright-blue frames. I held them up so Sam could see them.

“Do you recognize these?” I asked. “Because it’s fair to say, whoever owns these was in the greenhouse recently.”

“Oh.” Sam looked at the glasses, and his face fell. He seemed to deflate like a beach ball with the stopper pulled out.

“Those are Lori’s sunglasses.”





CHAPTER FIVE





Revelations


“I HATE TO GO, GUYS.” George bit her lip as she, Bess, and I all stood in the Heyworths’ driveway again. George was leaving, heading back to River Heights so she could make her shift as barista and waitress at the Coffee Cabin.

“Maybe I should go with you.” Bess, who’d been twisting a lock of blond hair around her index finger, suddenly spoke up. “I kind of wanted to get a manicure today.”

“Are you kidding me?” I turned to my friend, surprised and annoyed. “I’m about to go question Lori Park about why her sunglasses were in Sam’s recently vandalized greenhouse. You don’t want to see what happens?”

Bess sighed. “I just . . .” She shook her head. “I’m not as into this farming stuff as you guys. I want Sam to find out who’s sabotaging his farm, but . . .”

George rolled her eyes. “Stay here and help Nancy, please. I feel bad enough that I can’t.”

“All right.” Bess sighed again, but her frustrated tone told me that she was feeling a little guilty too. “Let’s go, then.” She started heading toward the road. Sunshine Farm, Sam had told us, was just half a mile away, an easy walk.

“Wait,” George said, lifting a basket of vegetables from her passenger seat. “Remind me what you want me to ask Ned to tell Rashid? We’re testing these for E. coli?”

“That’s right,” I said. Since she was heading back to River Heights, George had offered to bring some more vegetables to Rashid for testing. “These are straight from the farm, just picked. Ask him if Rashid can test them for E. coli and tell us what he finds out. If these veggies are contaminated already, then we’ll know whoever’s sabotaging the crops is doing it here, at the farm.”

George nodded. “Got it,” she said, replacing the basket on her passenger seat and closing the door. She walked around to the driver’s side. “I’ll ask Ned to call or text as soon as he knows. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“And you call me,” George added, pointing at me, “as soon as you figure out who’s harassing Sam. Deal?”

“Deal!” I agreed, giving George a thumbs-up. She climbed into her car and started up the engine as I followed Bess down the driveway to the road. As we walked, George passed us in her little coupe, tooting the horn. We both waved.

It was a pleasant enough walk down the road, surrounded by fields of corn. On the left side, a big hand-painted sign welcomed us to SUNSHINE FARM—WHERE WE HARNESS THE SUN FOR YOU! The words were surrounded by glossy-looking paintings of tomatoes, eggplants, zucchini, and peaches.

A driveway led to a bustling farm stand, brimming with flowers and produce. It took a while for me to get the attention of a cashier, but when I asked, she suggested that we look for Lori in the cherry orchard.

“Take a right on the road by the swing set,” she said brusquely. “It’s about a quarter mile down. There’ll be lots of people picking there today.”

We followed her instructions. Sunshine Farm made Black Creek Farm look downright sleepy by comparison. Farmhands worked in an outbuilding sorting tomatoes, and as we walked along the path to the orchard, a tractor passed us, hauling a trailer filled with buckets of cherries.

Bess let out a little moan. “Seeing all those delicious fruits and veggies at the farm stand reminded me how hungry I am,” she said.

“We’ll have to grab a snack on our way out,” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Bess said, turning her attention to the cherry orchard that we were approaching. Rows of trees stretched back toward the horizon, many with ladders leaning against them and farmworkers standing on rungs near the tops, picking cherries and placing them in buckets that hung from the branches. The cherries were bright scarlet, shiny in the midday sun. They contrasted nicely against the emerald-green leaves of the tree. I wasn’t even that hungry, but the sight of them made my mouth water. “Or maybe,” said Bess, “I’ll just grab a sample.”