Roseanne passed Bud's Burrito 'n Bait Shop on her way to Fran's Fig Farm, determined to strong-arm her way in if need be. Sitting on her butt in the cabin for a week until Fran got back wasn't an option. Roseanne followed the GPS instructions, turning down several dirt roads before coming to a halt at a closed gate with an incredibly large padlock attached. A looming sign overhead read Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted, and the barbed-wire fence was lined with yellow caution tape, making it look like a crime scene. Roseanne got out of the car and waved away the dust that had yet to settle. She peered over the gate at an empty field split in half by a long, straight gravel path. This called for her high-powered Avalon 20x50 binoculars. With those suckers she could see three miles away.
Roseanne grabbed the field glasses out of her trunk and rested her elbows on the hood of the car, not wanting to take the time to set up the tripod. Immediately, she spotted a small white house in front of what looked like several acres of trees. She scanned to the right and froze. She'd recognize that overall-clad physique anywhere. Fran was standing next to a pile of tree branches stuffing them into a wood chipper. Hopefully there weren't any lovebirds on the twigs. Roseanne shuddered. Fran didn't seem to be a fan of the feathered friends, and Roseanne wouldn't put it past her.
She lowered the binoculars and considered her options, which were dismal. Ramming her car through the gate wasn't a possibility, nor was attempting to squeeze through the barbed-wire fence. Knowing Fran, it was probably electrically charged. And even if Roseanne could get through the gate somehow, she'd have to walk at least a mile to reach the house. Her only option was to sit on her horn in hopes that Fran would hear and come to see what all the ruckus was about.
Roseanne looked through the binoculars again, a chill running down her spine at the sight of Fran still cramming branches into the wood chipper. Maybe she'd seen Fargo one too many times, but she had a sudden urge to bolt. She slumped and glanced upward at the no-trespassing sign. Yes, she should scram. Breaking the law wasn't an option. Roseanne got into her car and sped away, hoping Fran hadn't seen her spying.
On a whim, Roseanne pulled into Bud's Burrito 'n Bait Shop. Since her farm visit had been a bust, maybe she could at least get a little more insight from Bud. A wave of nausea washed over her as the scent of burritos mingled with minnows assaulted her nostrils. She resisted pinching her nose when she spotted Bud. Had he even changed clothes or moved a muscle from yesterday? He looked like an exact replica, toothpick hanging out of his mouth and everything.
Roseanne approached the counter and flashed the best smile she could muster. She'd learned long ago that a little kindness goes a long way. Too bad she couldn't remember that when it came to Lisa.
"Howdy do, little lady." Bud tipped his hat. "What brings you back so soon?"
"I was wondering if maybe you could tell me a little more about Fran."
Bud scratched his scraggly chin. "Why you so interested in her?"
"I'm...I'm a...a fig investor." What the hell is a fig investor? "I'd like to learn more about her...um...farming techniques."
Bud peered at Roseanne hard. "A fig investor, you say?"
"Yeah. I'd like to...well...invest in the farm. You know, to make money for both of us. But I can't likely do that unless she lets me onto her property."
Roseanne lied about as well as the Pope. Luckily, Bud actually seemed to buy it.
"Well, what is it you're wantin' to know?" he asked.
"Does Fran have any family?"
"Nope."
"Friends?"
"Nope."
