Reap a Wicked Harvest by Janis Harrison Page A

I was at a loss. No specific idea had presented itself. While I was thinking, Jacob said he was going for a walk down the drive to stretch his legs. I wasn’t ready to go back to the lodge. Seeing the open loading-dock door, I decided to have a word with Eugene.
    I went up the steps and into the main corridor of the greenhouse. It was hot outside but the ventilating fans created a strong current of air. I stopped and lifted the damp hair off my neck. My conversation with Jacob had left me uncomfortable. I couldn’t put my finger on the reason, but something felt off. He’d answered my questions readily enough. When I’d asked why he’d come to work for Parker Greenhouse, his explanation had sounded rehearsed. I shrugged. Perhaps that’s the reason he’d given to Evan and Cleome. And yet, something didn’t feel right.
    I smoothed my hair and walked down the corridor. My sneakers made a whisper of sound on the concrete floor. Passing an open door, I glanced in and then away. I took a couple more steps then stopped. A movement in the far corner had caught my attention.
    On tiptoes, I retraced my way back to the doorway. The
light was dim, the room in shadows. I saw an Amish straw hat lying on the cot. A stack of dark clothing was neatly folded on a chair. This had to be Jacob’s room.
    I stepped to the door, reached around the doorframe hoping to locate a light switch. My fingers found it, and I gave it a quick flip. The bare bulb illuminated unadorned walls, a battered chest of drawers, and Eugene squatted in front of a suitcase. At the moment his hands were motionless, but the rumpled contents of the suitcase gave testimony to the fact that he’d been rifling Jacob’s personal possessions.
    My tone was cynical. “Shame, shame. And on a Sunday, too. Didn’t your mama teach you it’s not polite to rip off others?”

Chapter Seven
    Eugene jumped to his feet with a piece of paper grasped in his hand. When he saw my gaze fixed on it, he let it go. Like a glossy black-and-white butterfly it fluttered back into the open suitcase.
    Flashing me a quick smile, he said, “Bretta, you know me better than that. I wouldn’t rip anyone off, especially an Amish guy. What could he have that I’d want?”
    â€œNothing material, but I think you were upset by his friendship with Marnie.”
    Eugene’s head snapped up, but his tone was smooth. “Friendship is the operative word. They were just friends. I have the proof right here.”
    He turned and picked up the paper he’d dropped. When he held it out to me, I saw a black-and-white photograph of a young Amish woman. Her dark hair was covered with a white cap, head tilted at a beguiling angle. Her eyes stared straight at me. Something about the paragraph niggled at me. I made a move to take the picture, but Eugene pulled it away.
    Snickering, he said, “Old Jake has himself a babe waiting at home. He wasn’t interested in Marnie.” He put the picture back in the suitcase and slammed the lid.
    Softly, I said, “But you didn’t know that until you found the picture.”

    â€œThat doesn’t matter. Marnie and I didn’t have an exclusive arrangement.”
    â€œYou dated her.”
    â€œWe went out a few times.”
    â€œWhat did you expect to find among Jacob’s belongings?”
    Eugene shrugged. “I wanted to see that photo. He usually carries it with him. I’ve seen him staring at it, but he hasn’t shown it to anyone.”
    â€œThat’s called privacy, Eugene.” I waved a hand at the suitcase. “Apparently, a concept you’ve never learned.”
    Eugene hunted for the words to defend his action. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but when he couldn’t come up with a plausible excuse, he said, “I have work to do.” He would have gone on his way, but I wasn’t finished with him.
    â€œJust a minute,” I said