Death of a Bad Apple by Penny Pike Page B

look now, but guess who just came out of the maze?”
    â€œWho?” Jake asked.
    â€œNathan Chapman!”
    The man glanced around, just as Tiffany had done a few minutes earlier, then pulled out his flask and took a long swallow.
    I caught Jake staring at him. “I said don’t look!”
    Why is it when you say don’t look, people look?
    Jake sighed. “Darcy, what’s the big deal? What do you think is going on?”
    â€œI don’t know, but something is. . . .” I nodded toward the Wise Apple tent.
    â€œCan I look?” Jake asked sarcastically.
    â€œIf you’re discreet,” I said.
    We watched Tiffany approach her mom, who stood behind the serving table. I had to strain to hear their conversation.
    â€œWhere’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you,” Crystal said to her daughter.
    Tiffany seemed to look through her mother. “Just . . . checking on the hay maze. Why?”
    Crystal studied her daughter, her brow furrowed. “Checking on the maze? What on earth for? You hired college kids to do that.”
    Tiffany shrugged and glanced away. “Uh, J.J. said there was a loose bale, so I went to check on it. It’s my responsibility if the bales come falling down on someone, you know.” Her voice was flat.
    â€œWell, get J.J. to fix it. That’s his job.” Crystal looked about to say something more; then she closed her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. I glanced to see what had caught her attention.
    Nathan Chapman was approaching the Wise Apple wine booth.
    â€œEverything going well?” he asked cheerily, focusing on Crystal. Tiffany suddenly turned away and busied herself cleaning another wineglass.
    â€œFine,” Crystal said, eyeing him. She turned to Tiffany. “Tiff, go get me a few more bottles of the Applewhite. I’m almost out.”
    Tiffany looked up at her mom, then stole a quick glance at Nathan. She nodded and exited out the back of the tent.
    As soon as Tiffany was out of sight, Crystal turned to Nathan. “We need to talk,” she said, coming out from behind the serving table. “Over here.”
    She walked a few feet away from the tent and out of earshot. Nathan followed her. I could only see Crystal, since Nathan’s back was to me, but it was clear from her expression she was angry. She said something I couldn’t make out; then Nathan shook his head, pulled out his flask, and took a drink. All I could hear were muted voices. It was obvious they were having an argument. I wondered what they were fighting about.
    I had a feeling it was about Tiffany.
    After a few heated minutes, Nathan gave a last shake of his head, then stomped off and out of sight. Crystal remained there for a moment watching him, then headed back to her own tent, just as Tiffany returned with the wine bottles. The young woman glanced around, frowned, and set the bottles down.
    â€œMother—”
    Before she could say anything more, Crystal pulled down the front flap of the tent, closing the wine kiosk, and blocking my view of the two of them.
    â€œGet in the back,” I heard Crystal’s muffled voice say behind the tent. “Now!”
    Then nothing more.
    â€œI guess that’s the end of wine service for now,” I said, turning back to Jake.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” he asked.
    â€œI told you something was up. I think it has to do with Tiffany and Nathan. I get the feeling Crystal doesn’t like Nathan. She must suspect something too.”
    â€œYou got all of that from just watching them for a few minutes?” Jake grinned. “Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”
    â€œSimple, deductive reasoning,” I said, using a very bad British accent.
    â€œAnd you came up with that scenario?”
    â€œLook at the facts, Watson,” I said. “Elementary, don’t you think?”
    â€œI think you should write romantic suspense novels instead of