Death by Veggies

By Alex Westhaven

Death by Veggies is a collection of short stories focused on one question: What if eating veggies really will kill you? In these five tales of revenge, persistence, and renewal, you'll meet two gardeners, a sous chef, a pumpkin carver, and a retired assassin, all using vegetables as their weapon of choice - in unexpected and often unsavory ways.

Are these would-be heroes justified in their unorthodox use of carrots, beets, lettuce, sprouts and pumpkin, or did someone hit 'em in the head with a potato? You be the judge.

This collection includes the new story, 24 Carrots, as well as Lettuce Prey, Sprouted, Jack and Beet It.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brazen Snake Books
• Release date: Oct 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781732178953

Alex Westhaven

Alex Westhaven is the pseudonym of an author from Billings, Montana. She resides there with her husband and two over-sized lap dogs. Halloween is her favorite holiday, and she has more than her fair share of skeletons (and other body parts) in the closet.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Copyright

24 Carrots

Lettuce Prey

Sprouted

Jack

Beet It

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Other Books by the Author

DEATH BY VEGGIES

The Collection

by

Alex Westhaven

Death by Veggies: The Collection

Copyright 2022 by Alex Westhaven

Published by Brazen Snake Books

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination, and used fictitiously.

24 CARROTS

Kira Featherstone stood at her kitchen sink washing her breakfast dishes, watching the late August sun rise through the window overlooking her backyard. Her 60-year-old joints complained a bit, but the warm water and rote motion was good for keeping them flexible.

It looked to be a beautiful day as she watched the wild gray rabbits who lived under her shed graze peacefully in the backyard. She loved watching them and encouraged them to stay by tossing feed pellets out in the lawn, and the occasional salt lick that she'd found at the local feed supply store. Every morning and evening she sat with them on the back deck, sometimes chatting with them about life, but mostly just enjoying the presence of such innocent, endearing creatures.

She'd retired three years ago to the sleepy town of Meadowlark Montana, mostly because it was so remote that if you didn't know exactly which back roads to take and in what order, you probably weren't going to find it. It was small, with a population of a few hundred souls with a to each their own attitude, and life was slow and simple. Cell service was spotty and not really worth dealing with, and internet service was about the same, dependent on satellites that may or may not be in range.

All of which made it easy to keep a low profile, for those who preferred to do so.

And then Ted Halverson had moved in next door. Ted was a gardener. A very good gardener, or so he claimed, and she'd never met anyone so proud of growing the perfect cabbage in her life - he had a banner to that effect hanging on the front of his house. He'd moved in a year ago last spring, and had torn out most of his backyard for garden space. And then the rest of it this year, right up to the edge of Kira's property line. Which is when the trouble had started. At first, it was seemingly good-natured comments about rabbits and their propensity for eating green things. Then frustration and polite requests for her to stop feeding them. Then the less polite insistence that she pay for half of a fence to separate the properties, and keep her bunnies out of his garden.

And then, the nastiness.

He had threatened several times to get rid of the rabbits himself. She had warned him every time that if he did there would be repercussions. But he didn't seem to think that the threats of an older woman were very frightening, and sometimes he laughed at her warnings. Other times he said he'd take care of anything with gray fur that encroached on his prize-winning produce.

She saw him now as she wrung out the dishcloth and hung it to dry. He was moving along his side of the wood plank fence, probably weeding or harvesting. And possibly plotting the demise of the poor innocent animals having breakfast in her backyard. Or maybe the not-so-innocent one watching him from the house.

Moving away from the window, she refilled her coffee cup and went to the back door to put pellets out for the rabbits and enjoy their company for awhile. She had just put her hand on the door knob when she heard a knock at the front door.

Scowling at the sound, she turned to go back through the kitchen and living room. There wasn't a single soul in her life who would show up unannounced at seven in the morning, which meant her neighbor was probably looking for a fight again.

When she opened the front door, there was no one there. Frowning, she stepped out on the front porch and looked around, but saw no movement anywhere. Turning to go back inside, she saw a document taped to the front of her door. Taking it down, she felt her blood pressure rising as she realized it was an invoice for all the produce supposedly ruined by the rabbits she'd harbored last month. Apparently she owed Ted two heads of cabbage, five heads of lettuce, 10 beat tops, and 24 carrots.

Shaking her head and willing herself to calm down before she did something stupid, she took the note, went in the house, and closed the door somewhat more forcefully than necessary. This needed to stop, and she was going to put the fear of something worse than God in him...after she finished her coffee.

Leaving the note on the counter and taking a deep breath, she went to the backyard and got a scoop of pellets out of the bag she left by the back door. She set her coffee on the wrought-iron table, and stepped off the deck to spread the pellets in the lawn.

That's when she noticed the first dead rabbit. It was laying on its side and she leaned over for a closer look, noticing its neck was bent at an impossible angle. Straightening up, she looked across the yard, and saw more rabbits laying unmoving in the grass - five of them in all. She walked through the yard, checking each one, but they were all the same. All dead. All with broken necks.

Then she noticed Ted.

He was standing at the gate at the end of the fence, holding another rabbit up by the ears. His eyes met hers, and he smiled, twisting the poor bunnies neck and throwing the carcass to the ground.

I told you if you didn't stop feeding them, I was going to take care of it. I'll expect payment for the produce they ruined by tonight. You got my invoice, I assume?

Kira nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. Goddamn him. For killing innocent creatures, and also for ruining the good, quiet life she'd built in this quaint and near-perfect place.

He turned and walked away, swaggering with the confidence of a prison-yard bully. Kira watched him go, her mind spinning up with all sorts of sordid ideas that would probably make a normal person sick, but...she was who she was. Three years was a long time to keep one's baser nature locked away, and a part of her was excited for the opportunity for one last grand hurrah.

The man had no idea who he was dealing with. But he was about to find out.

***

Willing her blood pressure down, Kira went to the little shed the bunnies had lived under and got a shovel.

There was a big apple tree nearby that shaded that part of the yard, and she picked a nice spot under one of the large branches to dig. With each spade of dirt turned, she relaxed a little more, until the hole was deep enough and her anger had subsided enough to think clearly.

Her wheelbarrow was beside the shed and she wheeled it around the yard, picking up all the rabbit carcasses and delivering them to the impromptu grave. After the poor rabbits were all tucked neatly into their final resting place, she patted down the earth over them, put the shovel and wheelbarrow away, and went into the house.

One last project. Or that what she told herself. She went upstairs to her bedroom and retrieved an old brown leather briefcase from the top of her closet. Setting it on the bed, she opened it and rifled through the small plain manila envelopes, each with a different name on the outside. Taking her time, she finally settled on one with the name Jane Rutherford on the front and put it on the bed beside the briefcase.

Going to her dresser, she got the passport she kept there and took it back to the briefcase. There was an empty folder in the elastic envelop attached to the inside top, labelled Kira Featherstone. She put the passport in the envelope and got her wallet from her pocket, adding Kira's drivers license and credit cards to the folder. Then she put that back in the main part of the briefcase, took Jane's documents from their folder and added those to her wallet, and put the empty folder in the elastic portion before closing and locking the briefcase again, leaving it on the bed.

Across the hall in her office, she went to the computer, and bought a plane ticket to Morocco, flying out from the nearest big city three hours away the next evening. It was a round trip ticket, though she wouldn't be using the return portion. She'd never been to Morocco and had always wanted to see it, so she'd stay awhile, and then pick a new tiny town on the edge of nowhere to set up house. Morocco was a non-extradition country, which would give her a little breathing room if things got...awkward. Better safe than sorry.

Going back to her bedroom, she packed a suitcase. Just the essentials - she always traveled light and purchased new to blend in with whatever crowd she found herself in.

Maybe there was no such thing as retirement for someone like her, she thought as she closed the suitcase and listened for the click. Maybe that was her penance for being who...or what...she was.

She carried both cases downstairs and took them directly to the car, putting both in the trunk of her nondescript silver sedan. She'd abandon it somewhere in the city on the way to the airport. Pity - the seats were plush and very cozy.

As she closed the trunk, she noticed Ted watching from the gate again, smiling.

Running away? I'll still be here when you get back!

She smiled pleasantly at his taunt, not bothering to answer as she went back into the house.

No, no he wouldn't. But no need to clue him in yet.

***

She went to the basement, and got her old kit. The leather roll was still soft and supple, and she untied the strings and rolled it out on the workbench. There was a set of scalpels that she checked for sharpness, pliers - both needle nose and regular in a few sizes, several different metal picks, two types of tweezers, and a couple of old school reusable syringes with glass tubes and metal frames - one small and one large.

She took out the smaller syringe, and held it up, checking to make sure the tip was still sharp enough. The needle was a little stained, but she wasn't concerned about cleanliness, and