Bone Harvest - Mary Logue [6]
“You bet.”
He poured them both a glass and they clinked them together. After taking a sip, he started serving their food. She looked at him over the rim of her glass and smiled. “This looks wonderful.”
“What went on today?” he asked. He could tell she was dying to talk about it.
She launched right in. “Somebody stole two kinds of pesticides from the Farmer’s Cooperative. Do you do any business with them?”
“Once in a while I get some feed from the co-op. Who’s in charge over there this year? Sorenson?”
She nodded, then added, “He’s pretty upset.”
“He’s a very conscientious guy.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I think he feels responsible. And these are no lightweight pesticides we’re talking about here. He gave me the warning labels off both the products. I looked them over before I left the office tonight. Both of them are fatal if you mishandle them. You probably know all this, country boy that you are.” She lifted her fork and took a bite of the ragout. “This is beyond good.”
“Any ideas who did it? Someone got a grudge against the cooperative, against Sorenson?” he asked.
“Could be. We’ll start out by checking anyone who has a connection to it, including former employees. One of the kids who works there is Sorenson’s son.”
“Awkward.”
“I’ve got a lot of people to talk to tomorrow. We fingerprinted the place, but I’ll be surprised if we find anything. Unless it was some kids doing it for a prank. Anyone serious would make sure they didn’t leave any prints.”
“I don’t like the idea of some kid running around with those products. Thank God school isn’t on. Can you imagine what could happen if a kid decided to fumigate the school?”
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on. Somehow pesticides don’t seem glamorous enough for a kid to use. Probably someone who decided they’d been paying high prices for all these products long enough. We’ll check on all the farmers who have bought these products in the past. Someone down on their luck? Who knows?”
“Well, if anyone can find out what’s going on, you can.”
“I hope so. If some farmer decided to steal them and then just use them on their fields, we might never know.”
Claire was holding something in. He could tell.
She took a sip of wine and then looked up at him and said, “Whoever did it left us a little memento to think on.” Claire paused as she swirled the wine around in her glass. He saw fear in her eyes as she said, “Bones.”
It was exactly twelve o’clock. The second of July. Time for step two. It had to be done the way it had to be done. He sat in the truck and waited until it was three minutes after midnight.
He had mixed the spray carefully. He had read the sheets on it a couple times over. One fluid ounce for three gallons of water. He poured it into the pump that he had used to spray fertilizer on his lawn. It was all loaded into the back of the truck. He had an old tarp wrapped around it so it wouldn’t tip over.
You had to be very careful with this stuff. He knew that. It was like handling dynamite. Never get too cocky. It would come back on you. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and long pants even though it was still close to eighty degrees out. He had his waterproof gloves in the truck. And he had brought an old pair of sunglasses, even though the sun had already gone down. Might look funny, but he didn’t think anyone would notice.
He didn’t think anyone would be around.
The town died at night. A few bars had a scattering of cars around them, but there wasn’t much to do in Durand anymore after dark, not like it had been when he was a kid. Then there had been restaurants and movie theaters. Friday night had been the night everyone went to town. Didn’t happen anymore.
He checked his watch again. Time to get in place to do the next step. This was step two. He had thought about it and this needed to be the second step. Everyone would understand when they knew the truth. It would all make sense.
He drove the truck up the hill on the west side of town, away from the Chippewa River. No one even passed him on the road. He drove past the sheriff’s department,