The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)(7)

I smiled. “Because Hannah said she knew you’d be sitting around studying all day,” I replied. “She didn’t want you to get ‘a potbelly.’ Her words, not mine.”

Ned turned to look at me over his shoulder, surprise in his eyes. “I could go run around the yard between cram sessions, if it would mean more cookies,” he said. “You tell Hannah that.”

“I think we’re getting off track here,” I reminded him.

Ned inhaled another cookie. “I dithagwee,” he muttered, spewing crumbs.

I stepped closer, tapping his shoulder. “I came over here to check on the Black Creek Farm test results.”

Ned sighed, drawing his fingers over the plastic lock on the bag. “That reminds me,” he said sadly. “I should save some of these for Rashid. To say thank you, y’know?”

“Don’t bother.” I pulled another plastic bag from my other pocket. “I’ve got you covered. Now, the results?”

Ned put down the bag of cookies and turned to look me in the face. My skin prickled with nerves. I had a feeling, from his very serious brown eyes, that I wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say.

“Rashid said the cooked dishes were all clean,” he said. “But . . .”

“But?” I prodded, knowing that the important info lay beyond that word.

“But the cold dishes, the salads, were crawling with E. coli,” Ned finished.

As I nodded slowly, taking this in, Ned reached for the bag and scarfed another cookie.

“Clearly this hasn’t affected your appetite,” I observed with amusement.

Ned shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just starving. I was so busy cramming I sort of forgot to go to the dining hall for breakfast. And then for lunch.” He popped another cookie in his mouth.

“Ned, is that all you’ve eaten today?” I asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I also had a bag of Skittles and an energy drink.”

I put my hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go over to the snack bar and get you something real to eat.”



A few minutes later we sat at a wrought-iron table in the shade just outside the university café. Ned was chomping happily on an enormous chicken burrito, and I sipped an iced tea.

I was trying not to obsess about Rashid’s findings. At least, not while Ned was eating. But “not obsessing” about a case I was working on felt like “not breathing” to me. Finally I let out a sigh and leaned forward.

“So the cooked dishes were clean?”

Ned didn’t even look surprised. He held up one finger while he swallowed and set his burrito down on a paper plate. “Not clean,” he clarified after a few seconds. “Not necessarily. Rashid said that they might have been contaminated too, but the high temperatures of cooking would likely kill off any traces. That’s why we’re always told to make sure chicken and fish are cooked thoroughly and to avoid eating rare beef.”

“So all the vegetables could have been contaminated,” I realized. “Does that seem strange? That it would be all of them—not just one or two dishes?”

Ned shrugged, picking up the burrito. “Strange? Sure, maybe a little. But not impossible.” He took a bite.

I tapped my finger against my lips, thinking. “But E. coli comes from the digestive system of cows. Sam was right. I researched it last night.”

Ned glanced at me briefly before taking another big bite. “Hmmmmmm.”

“It couldn’t just show up on vegetables that are grown nowhere near cows,” I went on. “A human being would have to transfer it.”

Ned dunked what was left of his burrito in a little puddle of guacamole. “Mm-hmm.”

I folded my arms, pondering. I wasn’t exactly looking for a case to solve right now. I’d been enjoying a break from sleuthing, taking up tennis, and on George’s recommendation (okay, more like insistence), making it halfway through Lost on Netflix. I didn’t want to give up my free time.

But Sam’s defeated expression as I’d walked him to his car last night stuck with me. This is my dream. And from what Rashid had found, it seemed very likely that someone was trying to take that dream away from him. Why?

“Who hates an organic farm?” I asked.

Ned glanced up from his guacamole, which he was now scooping up with a spoon. “Is that the setup for a joke, Nance?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m serious. If he were still a lawyer, I could see him having enemies. Ooh . . .” I paused, bringing my hand to my mouth. “Maybe that’s it? An enemy he made in his law days wants to destroy the thing that matters most to him—his farm!”

Ned stuck his finger into the spoon to pick up one last dab of guacamole, then stuck his finger in his mouth. “That’s it, Nance,” he said, deadpan. “You’ve solved the case. That must be some kind of record.”

I reached out and bopped him on the head. “Stop it,” I said. “I’m serious! Who would sabotage an organic farm?”

Ned shrugged. “No one?” he asked. But I recognized an arch tone in his voice, like he was trying to point out something obvious.

“You don’t think someone is behind the E. coli?” I asked.