Chapter 5
Liz began to feel lightheaded. “A small plane went down?”
“Someone shot it down.” The officer shifted his feet. “It happened about an hour, an hour and a half ago.”
“Is he…is the pilot…”
“He survived the crash. I’m no medical expert, but I believe he’s going to be all right. He got banged up pretty good.”
“How awful.” Liz placed a light hand on her chest. “I heard the plane early this morning. It must have been around six. In fact, it woke my husband and me up.”
“Did you hear anything else?” the officer prompted.
“I heard a loud popping noise. Looking back, I didn’t notice the plane after I heard the pop.”
The cop lowered his gaze, staring at the splattered tomato near his shoe. Roughly a foot away was another tomato. “I’m curious about these tomatoes I’m seeing on the ground.”
Liz swallowed hard, her mind whirling. The cop knew something about the tomatoes. She could feign ignorance or come clean and tell him what she suspected. “Actually, now that you mention them, my tenant, Echo Quigley, who lives in the trailer over there, said someone dropped a bunch on her porch. Why?”
“Because we found a bushel of rotting tomatoes inside the plane’s cockpit.”
Liz clenched her jaw, biting back a snarky reply. Be cool. You don’t want to sound like a potential suspect. “Perhaps the pilot was in trouble. He lost some of his tomatoes and they landed on my tenant’s property.”
The cop frowned. “Something isn’t adding up here.”
Liz lost her internal battle about keeping quiet and threw caution to the wind. “Perhaps Mr. Pilot was tossing rotten tomatoes at people, property and pets. Someone didn’t appreciate it and they decided to stop him. I don’t know who it was, but it wasn’t me.”
He removed a notepad from his pocket and flipped it open. “Have you been home all morning?”
“I have. My husband left a short time ago, about the same time our tenant, Echo Quigley, left.”
“Do you own guns?”
“My husband does.”
“Mind if I take a look at them?”
Liz hesitated. On the one hand, she had nothing to hide. She and Floyd were not responsible for Keller’s plane going down. On the other hand, she was smart enough to know any misstep or questionable answer could incriminate the couple.
“I would rather have my husband home,” Liz finally said. “Perhaps you can give me time to call him.”
The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Your answer is no.”
“It’s not a definitive no, but more like a not now,” she corrected.
The cop asked a few more questions and then told her he planned to return. Liz called Floyd’s cell phone as soon as he was gone.
“Remember when we heard a loud popping sound early this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Someone shot Tristan Keller’s plane down.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. So long that Liz thought they’d been disconnected. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“The cop also noticed the tomatoes splattered on our driveway and wanted to know what happened. There were still some in Keller’s cockpit when it hit the ground.”
“So he was throwing tomatoes at us,” Floyd said.
“It appears so. Maybe he ticked off one of the other neighbors and they shot his plane,” Liz theorized. Another thought occurred to her. “It is deer hunting season.”
“You don’t bag a deer by shooting it out of the sky.”
“A hunter’s firearm could have misfired.”
“That’s a long shot.”
“True.” Liz blew air through thinned lips. “The cop asked if you had guns. I told him you did. When he asked to see them, I explained that I wanted to wait until you were here to show them to him.”
“How is Keller?”
“The officer said he got banged up pretty good, but seemed to think he would be okay. We have nothing to worry about. We were home and in bed when it happened. Well, at least I was,” Liz said.
“We’re not off the hook. Remember when I said I was going to contact Keller?”
“Yeah.”
“I tracked his number down first thing this morning.”
Liz could feel a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “And…”
“I left a message on his office’s answering machine, telling him I knew he was harassing us and to knock it off or else.”
“Or else what?” Liz asked.
“I didn’t elaborate.”
“He’s going to think you took his plane down and then left a message to cover your tracks.” Liz placed a shaky hand on her forehead. “This is awful.”
“Yep. Obviously, he made someone else angry enough to pull the trigger.”
“Thank God he’s going to be all right.”
“I’m not sure what kind of charges someone could face for shooting down an aircraft, but something tells me the authorities don’t take those things lightly,” Floyd warned.
“Or discharging a firearm into the sky.” Liz briefly closed her eyes. “It is deer hunting season, which means someone’s gun could have accidentally discharged.”
“And took down the most annoying lawnmower in the sky known to mankind?” Floyd asked.
“True.” Liz gazed out the window, toward their neighbor’s house. “Christi was up around the time it happened. I’m sure the authorities are going to talk to her.”
“Maybe she heard or saw something.”
“She always has a pair of bird-watching binoculars hanging around her neck.” Liz could hear voices in the background. “You sound busy.”
“It’s been one of those mornings.” Floyd’s voice grew muffled. “I gotta get back to work.”
“What do you want me to do if the police show up again?”
“Tell the investigating officer to leave his name and number. I’ll call him back to set up a time to talk.”
Liz promised she would before ending their call. She grabbed a plastic grocery bag and a pair of gloves. With Duchess by her side, she trekked through the yard picking up the rotten tomatoes, counting twelve in all.
Mr. Keller had been a busy man before his plane went down. Perhaps he was tossing rotting tomatoes at someone else’s farm, as well. Maybe the man was mentally unstable, had made some enemies, and those enemies decided to take him out.
Liz grabbed tomato number thirteen and noticed movement next door. It was Christi, standing on her porch. Liz gave her a quick wave and watched as she made her way over.
“What’s in the bag?” Christi asked.
“Rotting tomatoes. The pilot tossed some out of his plane before it was shot down,” Liz said. “It was the same plane that’s been buzzing around our houses for weeks now.”
“I heard.” Christi’s eyes grew round as saucers. “A cop was on my doorstep this morning asking if I knew anything about it. Of course, I told him what has been going on, how the plane has been buzzing by our house at all hours of the day and night.”
“Did he ask to see your guns?”
“He did.” Christi told him she showed him her husband’s guns, kept locked in a gun safe inside the house. “He seemed very curious about you and Floyd.”
“Great,” Liz groaned. “Wait until the police find out Floyd knew the man.”
Christi made a choking sound. “Floyd knew the pilot?”
“He’s a real estate investor who was interested in purchasing our farm. Floyd beat him to it.”
Her neighbor lowered her voice. “Word must have gotten out about your property’s natural gas. I bet he was ticked.”
“Ticked enough to toss tomatoes at us.” Liz shifted the bag to her other arm. “I need to check on Duchess and Teddy.”
Christi trailed behind, throwing out some of their neighbor’s names, trying to guess who might have been behind the shooting. “Honestly, it could have been anyone. I’m sure everyone around here signed the petition yesterday.”
Liz stopped in her tracks, her scalp tingling. “The petition.”
“At the risk of stating the obvious...” Christi pointed to the bag. “You started a petition. The pilot was throwing tomatoes, the same man who wanted to purchase your property. You’ll probably have the investigators knocking on your door again. If I were you, I would be proactive and get my ducks in a row.”
“More than my ducks. The whole farm,” Liz groaned. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s time to get my sister, Gloria, and the Garden Girls involved.”