All Natural Murder by Staci McLaughlin Read Free Book Online Page A

door of the kitchen in search of Esther and any work she needed me to do around the farm, admiring the deep green of the basil as I passed through the herb garden, its scent reminding me of Mom’s spaghetti sauce.
    A man, presumably one of the guests, swam laps in the pool. As I walked by, the tattoo of a pelican popped out of the water with each stroke of his arm, making it appear as if the bird was diving for fish. He reached the end of the pool and turned in my direction, catching me in mid-stare. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, and he spent a lot of time outdoors if his tan was any indication. I smiled and nodded hello before hurrying my steps toward the main path.
    The ten guest cabins were on my left, but every door was closed, with no maid cart in sight. Esther must not have started cleaning yet. I followed the paved path toward the vegetable garden, wishing I’d worn a hat to block the sun.
    In the distance, I spotted Gordon, the manager, dressed in a suit and standing among the tomato plants. As I approached, he scowled at a plant and kicked the dirt. A cloud of dust puffed up, then settled on his shiny leather shoes. His frown deepened. I noticed his clipboard, a constant companion, tucked under one arm. I’d never managed to see what he wrote on those pages, but he always carried it with him.
    “What brings you out here this morning?” I asked as I stopped before him. Gordon rarely strayed from the lobby unless he wanted to spy on the employees.
    His hair, normally stiffly gelled into uniform rows, drooped in the heat, a lock breaking ranks and falling across his forehead. “That fool, Clarence, called last night to say his wife was in labor and he was taking her to the hospital.”
    Clarence was our latest staff addition. After attending several organic farming classes, he’d been hired to tend to the ever-growing vegetable and herb gardens, with the understanding that he could take vacation time once his wife had her baby.
    I plucked a deep-red tomato off the nearest plant, sure Zennia would find a use for it. “How exciting. I wonder if it’s a boy or a girl.”
    “Makes no difference. He’s going to be out for two weeks either way.” He grabbed a rotten tomato off the ground and chucked it into a nearby zucchini plant. “I thought women spent hours in labor. I bet he could have finished spraying this morning and still made it to the hospital before that kid pops out.”
    Gordon, always the sensitive guy. Sometimes I wondered if he’d been raised by robots. “Maybe he didn’t want to risk missing the miracle of life.”
    “Whatever. Now I’m stuck figuring out what to use to kill the damn worms on these tomato plants.”
    He pointed to a plant, and I leaned in for a closer look. Nestled on one of the leaves was a plump green worm, three inches in length, with protrusions on his head that resembled horns. As I stared, the worm reared up and waved his body at me.
    I drew my head back with a shudder. “Yuck. We definitely need to get rid of those.”
    “Yeah, but with what? Clarence mixes all his own natural pesticides, and I can’t read his labels. I’ve got half a mind to stop by the hardware store and grab a bottle of bug spray.”
    “This is an organic farm. You can’t use chemicals.” If Zennia got wind he’d even suggested such an idea, she’d have to meditate for a week to calm herself down
    Gordon grunted, beads of sweat visible on his hairline. “Once wouldn’t hurt anything. I don’t have time to drive all over town searching for that all-natural nonsense.”
    “Did you text Clarence about it? I’m sure he could tell you which bottle to use. You know, as long as his wife isn’t mid-push or anything.” Visions of Clarence in hospital scrubs texting on his smartphone while his wife lay nearby, her mouth open in a scream, filled my head, but I banished the thought and focused on Gordon.
    “Texting is for teenagers.” He pulled his cell phone from his inside jacket