Free A Death in Utopia by Adele Fasick Page B

and most of them are slow paying it back—if they ever do."
    So the Hopewells were mixed up in this too. Daniel wondered whether the Mr. Platt out by the Farm was kin to this debtor. If he was, how did he feel about the Hopewells? Daniel thought of the possibilities. Maybe he should go and talk to Platt again. That might get him further than hanging around the courthouse. If he hurried down to the Common he could catch old Gerritson taking the mail out to the Farm and ride along with him.
    The ride to the Farm was more comfortable than walking, but it wasn't much faster. The horse ambled down the road as if it didn't care whether if it ever got there. Jonas Gerritson never said a word except for an occasional "Giddap" to the horse, so Daniel had plenty of time to think his own thoughts. Could Abner Platt be angry enough at Winslow Hopewell to kill him? He was the one who accused Rory of the killing. He sure didn't look guilty when he said that. He sounded as though he really believed it. But he was wrong about Rory. Maybe he was covering up for someone. Was this Roger Platt his brother or a cousin or something?
    When they reached the path to the Farm, Daniel hopped off the wagon, thanked old Gerritson for the ride and walked toward Platt's place. The house was small and weatherbeaten. The front yard was filled with a vegetable patch; several large pumpkins sprawled across the dirt and some stakes held up browning tomato vines. Dried and broken corn stalks drooped toward the ground. A young boy was throwing kernels of corn on the ground to feed a few skinny brown chickens and a rooster. He stared at Daniel but didn't answer to a cheerful, "Hello there!"
    Two men were coming out of the barn carrying spades. When they saw Daniel, one of them turned abruptly and went back in. Daniel called out a greeting to Abner Platt and he walked slowly toward him.
    "What are you doing over here, young man?" the farmer asked, his forehead wrinkled with suspicion. "Aren't you supposed to be finding out who killed that young minister over at the Farm?"
    "I am working for the
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, yes, but I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about your brother."
    "Which brother would that be? I've got five of them—good hardworking men all of them. What kind of questions are you asking?"
    "I was down at the Courthouse today and noticed a broadside notice about a Roger Platt. Would that be one of your brothers?"
    "Was if he is? Roger's a good honest man too. Trying to make a living like the rest of us Americans. If it weren't for all the foreignerscoming in, we'd be able to do it. And the bankers too! They push a man around when times are bad. There's no justice to it. A man has to feed his family."
    "Have you seen your brother lately?"
    "None of your business! Now get off my property with all your questions. This farm is mine and there's no one welcome here unless I want them. Tell your newspaper and all the busybodies in the city to tend to their own affairs. We're taking care of our own."
    There was no sign of the second man, and Daniel didn't waste time looking for him, but just headed over toward Brook Farm. He was hoping to see Charlotte and tell her all this news. It seemed like they were getting someplace at last. It seemed likely that Roger Platt was hiding out on his brother's farm. He could have run into Winslow Hopewell and gotten into an argument about the debt he owed to his father. Abner Platt made those accusations about Rory to save his brother. Well that hadn't worked. Daniel was feeling pleased with himself as he walked across the road and up the path to the Hive.
    Everyone was in the dining room having dinner when he arrived so he stood outside on the porch until he head the them singing. That was a sign the meal was over and time for him to walk around to the kitchen door to find Charlotte. The red-haired student named Fred let him in.
    "You're the reporter," he said accusingly. "Are you going to write another story about us?