A tall rangy man trotted out of the small house at the end of the drive and leaned on Nick's car door before he could open it. Nick wound the window down and asked about speaking to someone in charge. Immediately the smell of 'farm' hit his nostrils and he screwed up his face.

"You can speak to me about what you're doin' on private property."

"I just did. Are you the big cheese here?"

"As far as you're concerned."

"That's not a very welcoming attitude when you don't even know who I am."

"Yeah, who are you then?"

"I'm doing a survey for the Westhaven Agriculture Dairy Journal and I have a few simple questions."

"I never heard of this journal."

"You will when I get back and tell my supervisors how I was treated at the mighty BK Development's dairy farm."

The man backed away and stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt. Nick climbed out of the car and looked around; out of the car the smell was even stronger.

"Big property."

"What questions you askin'?"

"We like to update our journal with the latest news for all the agricultural community in the area. For example, you have just expanded in the past few years; how many cows do you have now?"

"Close to 500."

"That's a lot. You must be really pumping out the dairy products here. Must be high maintenance too."

"We're busy."

"I can imagine with all that manure 500 cows would create." He waved a hand in the air as a pale distraction.

The man dropped his hands and stepped forward and Nick shifted his back to the car.

"You don't sound like no journalist that knows about cattle; just who are you?

"Name's Nick Roth, what's yours?"

"Daltry . . ." His look said he regretted answering. "I think you better just get back in that car and leave. Mr. Kerr don't like nosey bodies just dropping by."

"Right, well I guess the journal will be a little thinner next edition. Tell Mr. Kerr his farm could use a little air freshener. See you around, Daltry. " Nick got back in the car and did a slow turn around the drive, taking in what he could then left with a brief toot on the horn.

********

"Close to 500 cows he said. That would produce a hell of a lot of manure. Even a city boy like me could figure that" Nick bit into his western sandwich and chewed listening to Barbara's response.

"It's more than just manure. There's a lot of waste from the milk itself. Milk that gets contaminated during the processing would just get spread with the manure, unless they keep pigs too, then they would likely get that. But you are right, that would produce a lot indeed and the river runs right alongside their property."

"How does a dental hygienist know about that?"

"I grew up in this area, Nick. You left for the bright lights."

"Hmm . . . I did a lot of reading at that weird little library today and I learned that Braxton Kerr swings a lot of weight here and in Westhaven and that your boss is on the board of governors for BKD."

"Dr. Ramsey? Really? I never knew that."

"So is Brian Teesdale, the Westhaven hospital manager and our good friend Tom Thatcher."

Brenda put her fork down and sat back. "That's all news to me, but then I never . . . I did know Paulette was on the board. That came up when I was cleaning her teeth. She was so excited, said it would give her business that extra touch of class."

"Paulette who and what business?"

"Duayne. She owns the real estate business in Hunting."

Nick stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth, wiped his hands on the paper serviette and mulled over whether he should tell her what else he knew or not.

"You look like you enjoyed that." Barbara picked up her fork and continued with her salad

"I did. Country eggs seem to taste better." He grinned and settled back in the booth. "Barb . . . I went through more of Richard's papers and books and I found that he was collecting data on the affect BK's farm was having on the ground water and the aquifers. He had a good case for proving BK's operation was contaminating well water sources in Hunting and the surrounding area. Also your town's river."

Down went the fork again and she leaned forward on the table. "You don't think that-- that somebody from BK killed Richard somehow?"

"It's a strong motive, Barb. BK could be sued for plenty and have to change its practises to boot. It could amount to hundreds of thousands."

"But how did-- could they do it? Everyone said it was a natural death."

"Everyone meaning the members of the BKD board."

Barbara's hand flew to her mouth and she shrank back in the booth, her eyes boring into Nick's. He reached across and took her other hand holding it gently until she caught her breath.

"I want to speak to this Paulette. Where's the office?"

"It uh-- it's a few doors up from the bank . . . Nick I can't believe . . ."

"Let's wait and see what we can believe. Finish up and I'll get you back to work."

********

Paulette Duayne was as tall as Nick with a face and figure straight out of Cosmopolitan magazine. The hair was shoulder length, black as night and the skin the colour of Mackintosh butterscotch.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Roth. Are you new to Hunting?"

"I'll get right to it, Miss Duayne. I'm Richard Sanders' nephew and I'm looking into his recent death."

The dark eyes widened. "Looking into . . . I don't think I understand."

Very briefly, with no interruptions, Nick laid out his theory finishing with the question of BK's possible involvement.

"You can't be serious."

"Maybe if I frown."

"Sarcasm doesn't fly here, Mr. Roth."

"And withholding information doesn't fly with me, Miss Duayne."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"I shared with you. Don't tell me you didn't feel a twinge of uncertainty."

Paulette fingered the necklace at her throat and studied Nick carefully. "Barbara is a friend of mine."

"Barbara is a relative of mine." He huffed a sigh. "Look, she doesn't believe Richard's death was natural and I have come to agree with her. BK is polluting the water sources around here and Richard was gathering the proof needed to report them. Hell, your own well is contaminated."

"No, Richard treated . . ." She paused and licked her lips. "Richard told me there were contaminates in my well water. He treated it with hydrogen peroxide."

"I heard he liked that treatment; isn't it poison?"

"It was what they call food grade. Only 35 percent. Richard was very detailed and attentive in his service of the wells around here. He only did what was necessary and recommended more if he felt his treatments alone weren't enough."

"And he said they were okay?"

". . . No-o-o . . ."

Nick waited while she processed her thoughts. He studied the perfection in her features and skin and experienced some innate male fantasizing.

"Something wrong?"

"Huh? What? Uh, no I was waiting to see if you were going to add anything else." He felt the unfamiliar heat of a blush.

"So what is it you want from me exactly?"

"Didn't Richard mention anything about his suspicions to you when he treated your well?"

"Nothing."

"Have you heard anything at all on the board? Any unusual talks among the others, worries, comments?"

"There was a meeting where they seemed to be-- I don't know-- comforting Dr. Ramsey but I never knew any more than that."

"He's the dentist."

"Yes."

"May I be blunt, Miss Duayne?"

"As opposed to?"

Nick had to smile and he held up his hands.

"Fair enough. Do you think your position on the board was awarded because you contribute or because you have this business?"

Her mouth opened to speak and stopped as the question bounced around in her head. He watched her eyes fix on his and he knew she was seeing the whole picture in a different light.

"They have been feeding you clients in the area that they want gone, haven't they?" She just stared. "You find buyers who are offering deals they can't resist and with the water problems the owners are happy to oblige. The new people don't have a clue and now that Richard is gone, they won't get one."

"You have no proof of any of this." It wasn't quite a statement; it held the hint of a question.

"I have enough to make things quite uncomfortable. By getting owners to sell for market price, BKD is pretty much assured they won't make any waves down the road and the new buyers will eventually be forced to sell because the cost to install new equipment and have the wells decontaminated will be out of sight. BKD can pick them up for a song."

"And now what am I supposed to do?"

"Let me take you to dinner somewhere nice and we can work that out."

"Somewhere nice doesn't always welcome someone like me alone let alone with a white man."

"But they like the business you do in town and you can sit on a board of directors?"

"I'm not fooling myself, Mr. Roth. It's called tokenism. I can make them money on real estate so in business it's blind eyes all around."

"Call me, Nick . . . Paulette. And pick a nice place to eat; I'll worry about our welcome."

Outside, Nick looked around and discovered his shadow was nowhere to be seen which meant he lost him, he lost interest or a new tack was being implemented.