Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery)

by Sheila Connolly

  “I like the way you think, Seth Chapin.”

  17

  Get up. Eat breakfast. Pick apples. Eat lunch. Pick apples. Eat dinner. Fall into bed. That was Meg’s daily routine, and would be, until there were no apples left on her trees. There was precious little time for anything practical like shopping for food, which was kind of necessary. Or doing laundry or cleaning house. Or visiting with friends. Or planning a wedding.

  Or solving a crime.

  When she’d fallen into the farmer’s way of life, Meg hadn’t realized how all-consuming it was for most of the year. The only exception was the middle of winter, but some things couldn’t be put off until then. She had to prioritize somehow. Getting her harvest in was high on the list. Getting married should be, too, but at least Seth understood the other demands on her time and attention, and he was as busy as she was. Finding whoever had attacked Novaro Miller so that Jeffrey Green could get on with his life? It shouldn’t be important to her personally—but it was. She knew too well how events over which you had no control could suck you in and toss you around, and from what she’d seen, Jeffrey didn’t deserve that. So Meg had to bump that up the list, alongside apples and Seth.

  “Good morning,” Seth said, kissing her behind her ear. “What’s on your calendar for today?”

  She rolled over to face him. “Picking apples. Finding Novaro’s killer. You?”

  “The MacPhersons’ kitchen project—they have no running water at the moment, since we tore the place apart yesterday. Helping Jeffrey somehow.”

  “At least we’re on the same page. I know what to do with the apples, but how do we help Jeffrey?” Meg said.

  “We were talking about getting in touch with some of his teachers, and his Scoutmaster,” Seth said.

  “I remember. But how do we do that? I don’t know anyone at the high school, and I certainly don’t know anything about local Scouting. Do you?”

  “There are teachers at the high school who have been there since I was in school, although they must be getting pretty close to retirement. I did the principal a favor when they had some burst pipes over the winter break a couple of years ago, so the school owes me. I’m thinking of one teacher in particular—and as it happens, he teaches history. He’s a good guy, and I think he’d talk to us. I’ll give him a call later.”

  “Sounds perfect. Do we need to tell Karen, or Rick, or Sam, or Jeffrey what we seem to be doing?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. If we don’t learn anything, it’s moot.”

  “Okay. What’s the next thing to happen with the Historical Society building?”

  “We’ll check the concrete footings and make sure everything came out right, then we’ll settle the building back down, with new sills all around. Then we can start the build-out. You know the clock is ticking, because Gail and the board want it done by winter, so they can move all their collections back in.”

  “So Gail told me, but is that really doable?”

  “It’s tight, but I think we can manage, if everything works the way it should.”

  “Then I’ll try to call Gail this morning, after her kids are off to school, and see if I can wangle some time with Karen. It seems only fair to try to talk with her.” Meg sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Time to face the day.”

  “I seem to remember we invited Sam and Jeffrey over for breakfast,” Seth said. “Does that ring a bell?”

  “Shoot, you’re right. And there’s really no food over at your house. I guess I’d better go down and get things started.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Bree, Seth, and Meg were gathered in the kitchen. Coffee had been brewed, and Meg had thawed some frozen muffins, when Sam and Jeffrey appeared at the back door. “Is this okay?” Sam said. “I hope we’re not too early. Your pantry is kind of bare, Seth, and Jeffrey here has to get to school.”

  “Yes, of course—we invited you. Come on in,” Meg said warmly. “There’s coffee and muffins. I could make eggs if anybody wants any.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” Jeffrey said. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “Then sit down and help yourselves,” Meg said. She thought both Sam and Jeffrey looked more relaxed than they had the night before. They seemed to be good for each other. Meg filled her own coffee mug. “Jeffrey, did you tell your dad about the skeleton you found?”

  “What?” Sam said. “A skeleton? Where?”

  “Under an old building on the green. It was really cool, Dad.” Jeffrey went on to give Sam the whole story behind the excavation and how he had become involved, with Seth throwing in the occasional comment about the construction aspects. Meg had never seen Jeffrey so animated, and Sam listened eagerly.

  When he stopped to take a break, Meg said to Sam, “That’s how Seth and I first met your son. By the way, Jeffrey, did you hear about Miranda’s preliminary findings? She stopped by here on Saturday with Gail.”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “I’ve been kind of, uh, distracted. What did she say?”

  “For a start, it turns out that the man was African—she had to reassemble the skull to figure that out. She says he died in his sixties, from a rather nasty-sounding form of TB.”

  “Wow!” Jeffrey said. “African? That is really interesting.”

  “The 1790 census shows that the Moodys, who gave that land, still had slaves then. And he was given a decent burial, too.”

  “Is she going to be doing more with the bones?”

  “She said she would when she had the time. She was going to enlist some of her students to help, I think, at least with the technical analyses. But we were thinking that you could work on the local history angle—who the Moodys were, the history of slaveholding in early New England, that kind of thing. If you’re interested.”

  “Absolutely! I should talk to Gail again, right?”

  “I’m sure she could tell you where to look for more information.”

  “Then I will. Dad, I’d better move fast if I’m going to get to school on time.”

  “Right. Give me a call when you know your plans for the rest of the day.”

  “Gotcha. Bye, Meg, Seth, Bree. And thanks.” Jeffrey slammed out the back door like any normal teenager, headed for his car.

  “I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” Sam said to the others. “I’m sure you have your own plans.”

  Bree snorted. “I’m headed up the hill. See you there, Meg. Bye, Sam.” She got up, took her mug and plate to the sink, grabbed her jacket, and went out the door.

  “What exactly does she do?” Sam asked.

  “Bree? She’s the orchard manager. I just inherited the orchard, and I didn’t have any idea what to do with it. She’d already worked here, while she was in college, so I hired her. I couldn’t do this without her. And she lives here as well—I can’t afford to pay her what she’s worth, so I throw in free living space.”

  “Okay, now I get it. So she was hinting that you’d better get to work fast, right?”

  “Exactly.” Meg glanced at Seth. “Do you know any of Jeffrey’s teachers, Sam? Or his Scoutmaster?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not really. Last year I might have known his teachers, but not this year. And we’ve had very little interaction with his principal, other than at public events. Jeffrey decided to join Scouts on his own, but I’m guessing that once he did, Karen started pushing him to stand out after I left. Not that it’s a bad idea—I’m just saying I don’t know anyone on that front. Why do you ask?”

  “We’re trying to get a handle on Jeffrey. We only met him a week ago, so we don’t know much about him.”

  Sam finished the unstated thought. “And you want to know if he’s capable of violence?”

  “Please don’t be offended—we’re trying to help.”

  “I know. And of course you can’t just ask Karen or me, because we’re biased, to say the least
. I understand.”

  “Has he ever done anything violent?”

  “No, he’s practically too restrained,” Sam said slowly. “It’s actually always kind of worried me. Not that I want him to lash out at anyone or anything, but he’s always been so . . . controlled, I guess, ever since he was a kid. I wish he’d cut loose, just a little, you know? That’s one thing Karen and I almost agreed on. He’s trying too hard to be perfect, and it kind of makes me want to mess up his hair or something. Maybe Karen and I were responsible for it—maybe he thought that if he did everything right, we’d stay together. Isn’t that a sad thing? Like any of our problems were his fault.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said, laying her hand over Sam’s. “But he is a good kid. Let’s hope the police get to the bottom of this soon, so we can all move on.”

  “Thanks, you two. I appreciate everything you’re doing for him.” Sam stood up. “Well, I should let you all get to work. Seth, I’ll go pick up some supplies for the house, so we won’t be bothering you for meals. And thanks again for letting us use the place. I’ll give you a call if anything changes.”

  When Meg and Seth were alone in the kitchen, Meg said, “It’s all so sad. Sam and Karen must have been happy once, don’t you think? And they have a great son. Seth, how do we know we won’t go off the rails the way they did?”

  “There are no guarantees, Meg. Nancy and I split up for some of the same reasons, mostly about what we wanted from our lives. At least we didn’t harm anyone else along the way.”

  * * *

  Back in the orchard Meg worked for a couple of hours alongside Delroy, one of the pickers who had always seemed shy around her. They fell into an easy rhythm, and after a while Delroy started a conversation about the weather, to which Meg responded with enthusiasm. Meg managed to steer the talk toward other orchards Delroy had worked at, and the time passed quickly. Maybe her barbecue had actually paid off. She was a little surprised when she found herself next to Raynard, and it looked as though he had taken that spot deliberately. She waited for him to say something, and it didn’t take long.

  “That boy Novaro—he wasn’t always a bad one,” Raynard began slowly, keeping his eyes on the tree in front of him. “But young men these days, they don’t know how to work. They expect things to be easy, you know? And they want money in their pockets and a pretty girl on their arm. He didn’t understand. His uncle tried to set him straight, but he was busy working himself. And Novaro was young, but he wasn’t a child. It was time he started working.”

  “That seems fair,” Meg agreed. “Do you or any of your friends have an idea what happened? Why someone would have attacked him?”

  “You don’t believe that boy Jeffrey did it?”

  Meg stopped picking apples and turned to face Raynard. “No, I don’t. And I can’t for the life of me see why Novaro would have been behind the feed store after it closed. Do you have any idea?”

  Raynard had stopped working as well and was regarding her with his usual reserve. “Those are the questions we have been asking among ourselves. But only Hector knew Novaro well at all.”

  “Do you think Hector would talk to me?”

  Raynard cocked his head at her, as if considering her request. “Why would you wish to do that?”

  “Because I don’t understand, and I want to. I’m not trying to pin blame on anyone here. I just want to know why Novaro was there.” And why he’s dead, Meg added to herself. “Do you know where I can find him? And if he can take time off from work?”

  “I will talk to him. Perhaps I can bring him by later.”

  “I would really appreciate that, Raynard. And if you hear anything about what happened, even if it doesn’t seem important, will you tell me? Please? I can take it to the police if you aren’t comfortable doing it.”

  “I will keep my ears open.” He paused to survey the next row of trees. “I think the Baldwins will be ready soon.”

  Apparently the conversation about Novaro was closed, Meg realized. “How do you think this year’s crop compares to last year’s?” she asked, and their talk turned to practical orchard matters.

  An hour or so later, Meg pulled out her cell phone and called Gail. “Where are you?”

  Gail laughed. “Where do you think? Standing on the green, staring at the Historical Society building. It’s so exciting to see a plan actually come to life. And I love seeing all the gritty details of building construction, now that the underside is revealed. Seth came by and said everything looked good. Did you need me for something?”

  “I wanted to ask a favor. Has Karen Green come by to check out the progress?”

  “She’s been, uh, kind of busy over the last few days, as you can imagine.”

  “I can. But I want a chance to talk with her, and I figured if I called her directly she’d blow me off. You know her from a different angle.”

  “You want to talk with her about Jeffrey and that Jamaican boy?” Gail asked. “What good will that do?”

  “Don’t tell me you believe Jeffrey did it!”

  “No, of course I don’t,” Gail replied promptly. “But I don’t have the time or the skills to get involved. Do you?”

  A fair question. “Not the time, no, but you know I’ve got some experience with how local investigations work. And if the local grapevine hasn’t reported in yet, Jeffrey’s father arrived in town last night, and he asked us to help.”

  “Sam’s here?” Gail sounded delighted. “He was always the better half of that couple. I’m so glad, for Jeffrey’s sake—he needs someone in his family to watch his back, and Karen’s too self-involved to fill the slot.”

  “So can you get us together?”

  Gail was silent for a few moments. “Let me give her a call. I’ll tell her that in her capacity as a board member of the Historical Society, she has a responsibility to keep tabs on the construction project. I’ll tell her it won’t take long, but she should see the process in each stage. You think that will work?”

  “It would with me, but I’m not Karen. Go ahead and try, and let me know what she says.”

  Meg hung up and went back to picking apples.

  Fifteen minutes later her phone rang. “Gail?”

  “I talked to Karen, and she promised to stop by here between her other terribly important appointments. Why don’t you grab us some sandwiches and come over so we can wait for her together?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there in half an hour. If Karen shows up before I get there, sit on her.”

  “I wish!” Gail said. “See you soon.”

  Meg sought out Bree. “I’m going into town, to try to talk with Jeffrey’s mother. Oh, and in case you haven’t already figured it out, Jeffrey and his dad are staying in Seth’s house for the moment.”

  “Yeah, I kind of put two and two together about that. Are they in hiding or something?”

  “Not exactly. Sam needed a place to stay, so Seth offered him the use of the house, and Jeffrey said he’d rather stay with his dad than with his mother in a hotel. He claims she’s hiding from reporters.”

  “I’m glad you told me—if I saw people lurking around Seth’s house I might have worried. What did you think of the dad?”

  “Nice, I think. He showed up after driving all day and he was exhausted, but Jeffrey was really glad to see him. Nicer than Jeffrey’s mother, Karen, anyway.”

  “So why do you think you need to talk to her?”

  “I want to learn more about Jeffrey, maybe figure out who he knew or hung out with. Karen’s view of her son may be skewed, but even that would tell me something. I’ll be back after lunch.”

  “All right. We’ll still be here.”

  Meg headed out and picked up sandwiches and drinks on her way to the green in town. She spotted Gail standing near the building, which was still on its scaffolding. Meg parked on the lane next to it.

  “
At least the building survived the jacking up,” Meg said as she approached.

  “Of course it did! This was built to last. Let’s eat—all this staring at construction makes me hungry.”

  They strolled toward the nearest bench, under one of the large maples that ringed the green. “No sign of Karen yet?”

  “Nope,” Gail said, pulling food out of the bag Meg had brought. “You know, I keep trying to feel sorry for her—I wouldn’t wish this kind of mess on anyone—but I’ve never seen her show much warmth toward anyone. I can’t say I’ve seen her with Jeffrey much, but based on what I’ve seen of her with other people, it’s him I feel sorry for right now. I can’t imagine treating my kids that way.”

  “I hope Sam can balance that out—he seems a lot warmer. I wonder how long he’ll be able to stay. Do you know what he does professionally?”

  “Not offhand. Something with numbers, I think. He made enough to pay for that big house, anyway. Karen has never worked, at least not for a salary.”

  “Hasn’t she done a lot of volunteer stuff?”

  “Sure,” Gail said, between bites of her sandwich. “But not the messy stuff, you know? She never pitched in at the child care center or the PTA, only the more high-end things. Like us.” Gail grinned. “It’s a small town, remember? There’s the library, and us, and some town committees, but that’s about it.”

  Maybe someday I’ll have time to participate in some of those things, Meg thought. At least she’d tried to help out with the cataloging for the Historical Society, but part of that was for herself, to learn as much as she could about her house and her family history. Still, it was a start, and she’d promised herself she would do better as soon as the harvest was in.

  They’d finished eating and collected their trash by the time a shiny black Lexus pulled into the lane and parked behind Meg’s car. Karen Green emerged, wearing dark glasses and a fancy scarf that looked like silk. In fact, to Meg’s eye she looked like she was dressed up as Jackie Kennedy, although in a town the size of Granford her disguise—if that’s what it was—wouldn’t fool anyone. Gail stood up and walked over to greet her, while Meg followed more slowly.