Seth didn’t answer immediately. “I suppose it’s a possibility, but why would anybody kill over this? Why the heck would it be so important?”
“We already have an idea of why,” Meg said. “Jonas loses a lot of timber that’s valuable to him. The town park is stripped of its trees, which makes it less attractive, so that affects the town. There’s got to be a motive in there somewhere, against Jonas or the town or both. Should we talk to Art? Or Marcus?”
“Meg!” Bree was quick to protest. “Trees and water, remember?”
“Yes, I know,” Meg said impatiently. “Seth, can you see if Art knows anything new about the death? I mean, it makes a big difference whether David Clapp fell or was hit.”
“Sure. I agree that Art needs to know, but let’s tell him before we go running to the state police. Anyway, Art’s probably surprised that we haven’t been hounding him.”
“Don’t make fun of it—I’m the one who found the body, remember?”
“I’m sorry, you’re right.” He thought briefly. “Look, even if we assume that Clapp saw something he wasn’t supposed to, we have no idea why somebody thought he had to die. Most people wouldn’t know what the insect was.”
“Maybe that part was just an accident,” Meg suggested. “Maybe he startled someone in the act, and that person pushed him and he tripped. But there’s still a crime, right? Or maybe he was doing it himself, got spooked by something or someone, then fell and hit his head when he tried to hide. Or he was doing it and somebody surprised him and a fight happened. No matter how it went, nobody’s come forward to report seeing him or anyone else on the Nash property.”
“What are you suggesting, Meg?” Seth asked. “That he was involved in planting the bugs? Which side was he on?”
“I . . . don’t know. Look, we just found out about this, and we need to think it through.”
Seth looked at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet Donald in half an hour, and that’s what’s paying the bills. Let me see if I can get together with Jonas Nash. Maybe we can share some information.”
“Will he talk to you?” Meg wondered if Jonas had had something to do with any of this, although he stood to lose the most from the infestation. Was there such a thing as insurance against insect invasions?
“Probably. Besides, we’re not accusing him of anything. He should know what Christopher told us, if he doesn’t already know from the government people. And I’ll call Art, too. Let him decide whether it’s worth passing on to Detective Marcus.”
“And somebody had better explain what laws apply here,” Meg muttered. “You go ahead, Seth. I want to think about all this—while we water, Bree.”
Up the hill, Bree handled the calculations for how much water was needed to simulate the best natural rainfall, a phenomenon Meg could barely remember. She’d read one suggested guideline for amateur orchardists with a tree or two in their yard: a five-gallon bucket of water once a week for young trees. She tried to imagine hauling five gallons of water to each tree and quailed. Of course, the system she and Bree were using dated back more than a century, only now a gasoline engine, rather than a team of horses, provided the power to move the water tank. But that tank had to be refilled regularly back at the well, so it was a time-consuming process.
That left at least part of her brain free to think about the beetle problem. To state it simply, the insect was where it shouldn’t be. Well, it could be there, but not as it had been found. Ergo, somebody had put it there, or possibly in two or three separate “there”s, and maybe more. Why? That was the big question.
From what she had read, it looked like the bug was a threat, all right, but its timetable was years, not weeks. It wasn’t like a plague of locusts, which could strip a tree bare in minutes. Now, she didn’t want to downplay its importance in the grand ecological scheme of things, but it certainly wasn’t something that would catch someone’s eye and cause panic. If she hadn’t happened to see one dead adult, it could have gone unnoticed for who knew how long. So if someone had planted it there, he or she didn’t have a timetable and was content to wait, even for years? It didn’t make sense. She would have expected whoever was doing this to want faster and more obvious results.
Time to refill the water tank again. She and Bree traded off driving and managing the water distribution hoses. The wellhead that provided the water was smack in the middle of the older part of the orchard, which often meant they had a long trek back to it, but thank goodness it was there at all, because Meg didn’t know what would have happened to her trees and her crop without it. So far they had managed to keep up with the trees’ water needs, and the spring was holding up fine. But if they had to cut back on watering, not only this year’s crop but next year’s as well could be affected. And the poorer the crops, the less likely Meg would be able to afford the drip irrigation system that would deliver water consistently and improve the crops. It was frustrating.
What did the beetle infestation mean? The government apparently had a lot of rules in place about destroying trees that were infested, and also destroying trees that might become infested if they were located nearby. The end result was a lot of trees lost. Gone. Bree had told her that the felled trees couldn’t be used for something else like lumber. They couldn’t leave the quarantine area. That might have an impact on motive. Would someone in Granford want the trees? Unless they were right here, they were in for disappointment. Or did they want to get rid of the trees? Was the underlying land the issue, with or without the trees?
And where were the creatures coming from? From what she’d seen of Christopher’s lab, they were well contained there. How many would it take to establish a single infestation? Surely more than a handful. Dozens? Hundreds? And then multiply that times three, at least. Could just anyone order up a batch from a research lab like the one at the university, or were there screening procedures in place?
Too many questions. She needed more information.
She and Bree had gotten a late start because of Christopher’s visit, so they finished late. They had just returned to the house when Meg’s phone rang.
It was Seth. “Meg, I finally tracked down Jonas Nash, and I think we’ve got stuff to talk about. You want to come over to his office at the sawmill? It’s air-conditioned . . .” Seth dangled the incentive in front her.
“Sure. Now?”
“There’s one small catch: can you pick up some sandwiches and something to drink on the way over?” he asked.
“I think I can handle that. Give me an hour. I want to shower first.”
“You going out?” Bree asked when Meg had hung up.
“Yeah, I’m going over to talk with Jonas Nash with Seth.” When Bree looked blank, Meg explained, “You know, the guy with the sawmill and the woodlot where I found the first beetle?”
“Oh, right, him. I think Michael and I are going to go see another nice, cool movie. I only hope I can stay awake.” Bree hesitated a moment before asking, “Hey, are you and Seth okay? He’s been kind of funny lately.”
Meg debated about filling Bree in on their issues and decided against it. “He’s got some things to work out. Nothing you need to worry about. You and Michael go have fun. I claim the first shower.”
Clean once again, Meg headed out to the local market to pick up sandwiches and assorted juices and sodas, then found her way to Nash’s sawmill with only a couple of wrong turns. Jonas and Seth were waiting outside, talking; Seth waved when he spotted her. Neither one looked upset, if she was reading their body language right. Seth came over to take some of the bags with the food and drinks, and Meg seized the moment to ask, “Have you asked him anything yet?”
“No, I just got here myself. We’ve been discussing Donald’s requests for matching moldings, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”
“Okay.” Meg raised her voice. “Hi, Jonas. Ready for a late lunch? Or is it an early dinner?”
“Either one works for me. Come on in,” Jonas said amiably. “I hear you’re air-condition
ing deprived.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Distributing food and drinks occupied several minutes, and Seth kept the conversation light until they had nearly finished their sandwiches. Jonas kept eyeing them, but he didn’t ask any questions until he’d balled up the wrappings from the meal and thrown them away. Then he sat back in his chair and said, “Okay, what’s this really about?”
Seth avoided answering him directly. “Jonas, have you received anything from the USDA this week?”
“Like what? A letter? An announcement? I haven’t had a chance to go through my mail for a couple of days. Let me check.” Jonas stood up and went to his paper-covered desk and rifled through a couple of piles until he pulled out an express envelope. He ripped it open and read the single page he pulled from inside. Then he came back and sat down, looking bewildered.
“What does this mean?”
Seth answered. “I got one like it, at the town office. The government is officially informing you that they have found an invasive species of insect on your property or properties.”
Jonas looked stunned. “Asian longhorned beetle? Here? Damn, that’s bad news.”
“Yes, it is,” Seth said gravely.
19
Jonas seemed to be having trouble processing what he was reading. “So these inspectors, they’ve been tramping around here, and that woodlot, looking for bugs? Can they do that?”
“I don’t know all the legal details, but since both places are nominally open to the public—you give tours here, and there are picnic facilities at the other site—they believe they have the right. You haven’t seen anyone out looking?”
“Not that I’ve noticed, but we’re talking a lot of acres. And I haven’t been around my office much.” Jonas glanced at Seth’s face. “There’s more,” he said flatly.
“I’m afraid so,” Seth replied. “They’ve found infestations on both of your properties.” Meg waited for Seth to explain about the curious timing and was surprised when he didn’t. Instead he said, “You know about this pest? Have you seen any around here? Say, on one of your woodlots?”
“I know about it in general terms, after what’s happened in Worcester and Shrewsbury, but I haven’t spent a lot of time walking through the woods the past couple of years. You know I’ve contracted that side of things out.”
Jonas appeared sincerely surprised, but Meg wasn’t going to go on her first impression. She didn’t know the man—she’d have to wait for Seth’s take. Meg said, “They’ve confirmed its presence on that lot and in a Granford park. Do you know what that means?”
Jonas scrubbed his hands over his face. “Of course. They’re going to want to cut down a lot of my trees. Damn. That’ll probably be the last straw. Same thing with the town park, Seth?”
“Yes,” Seth said, “and that doesn’t make me very happy either—that park is used a lot. But I think there are some bigger issues here.”
Seth looked at Meg, who explained, “Jonas, I found a dead beetle near David Clapp’s body last week and brought it to the attention of Christopher Ramsdell at the university, who reported it to the authorities.” She took a breath and continued. “Do you have any reason to believe that David Clapp’s death is connected with the beetle that was found next to him?”
“I’m not sure what you’re saying,” Jonas said. “You think he found it?”
“Or he put it there.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“Jonas, you tell us,” said Seth. “You know what it means if your property is found to be infested: you lose a lot of trees. Your business is shaky anyway, so that could shut you down. You just said so.”
“Are you saying you think I killed David Clapp to shut him up? C’mon, Seth, you should know me better than that. He worked for me for years. My kids hang out with his—they compete in Little League. Besides, I thought it was a stupid accident—he tripped and fell. There haven’t been any cops coming around and questioning me, after that first time.”
“It may well have been an accident, Jonas. Did you and David part on good terms?”
“Sure. He knew my financial situation, and I recommended him to the company he was working for. Everybody won—he knew my trees, and I trusted him to make good choices for cutting. Hell, I went to his funeral. You can’t think I’d do anything to David?”
“I don’t. But if not you, then who would want to keep him quiet about the insect? Look, didn’t you tell me something about talking with a developer about selling the land?”
“I have been, for this site, in a very preliminary way. What’s the connection?”
“How would losing a lot of your trees affect its value to a developer?”
Jonas leaned precariously back in his chair and shut his eyes. “We’ve been talking about a high-end residential development—you know, big houses on big lots. If a lot of the trees were gone, they might think they could get it at a lower price. But to kill someone to knock off a few thousand bucks? I can’t believe that.” He leaned forward again and looked directly at Seth. “I can’t believe any of this. I’ve been careful with my properties. You know that, Seth. I’ve worked with the state to meet their standards. I’ve made it available for public use. I’m a friend to every bunny and birdie out there. How could something like this pest have slipped in without my noticing?”
Seth glanced briefly at Meg, and she assumed he was trying to warn her off from saying anything about what Christopher had told them. Then he responded to Jonas. “We all have a lot of questions, Jonas. We’re learning about it as we go along. Since the town park is infested, too, it’s not just your problem. It’s not clear where David’s death fits. Maybe there’s a connection, maybe not. The police are not pushing the investigation very hard, and I can’t say I blame them—there’s not much physical evidence, and as you say, they haven’t come back to you about it. Maybe it would help all of us if you could tell us what you know about David Clapp.”
“I’ve told everything I know to the state police,” Jonas protested. “More than once. I knew him, I worked with him, I liked him. I never had any reason to distrust him. How much do you know about commercial logging, Seth? Meg?”
“Not much,” Seth said.
“Almost nothing,” echoed Meg.
Jonas paused a moment to gather his thoughts. “All right. The Nashes have owned land around here since before the town of Granford existed. If you know anything about Massachusetts history, you know that the forests that the first settlers found were pretty much cut down, and then after some decades of farming, the forests came back, and right now are going strong.”
“Yes, Seth explained that to me,” Meg said. “Go on.”
“The sawmill’s been operating for more than a century, and the family still owns plenty of forest around here to supply it. But after four generations, there are a lot of members of the extended family who are holding bits and pieces of that land, and the operation doesn’t generate enough income to support everyone, so they’ve gotten regular jobs. Besides, not a lot of people want to go into logging these days. Some time ago, all the Nash owners got together and decided to hire a forest management organization to take care of it for us—for a fee, of course, but we still make money.”
“How does that work?” Meg asked.
“The organization has both foresters and managers on staff. They follow sustainable forest management practices and look after all aspects, including when and what to cut. Only a small portion comes to our sawmill, which as I mentioned is pretty much for demonstration these days—although Seth’s bought a lot of specialty products from us over the past few years. But the rest of the lumber, the forest management company sells to the highest bidder, which can change over time. Everybody wins: we know that our forests are being managed responsibly, and they make money from it and so do we. They can afford to look at the big picture because they manage so many properties—they aren’t dependent on any one lot or even region.”
“But you still hol
d title to the land,” Seth asked.
“Yes, although we have a long-term contract with the company. We could have sold it to them outright, but then we could have lost control of it. There are companies around who will buy a forest, clear-cut it, sell the lumber, and walk away, and that’s not good for the community. Maine and Vermont have enacted legislation to prevent that, in the last decade.”
“And if you sell?” Seth said.
“A developer would want this lot. As for the woodlots, most likely it would be directly to the management company, because they’ve done a good job with them and I think they’d be fair on the price. It’s not like I’m putting it on the open market.”
Seth nodded, once. “This is great information, Jonas,” he said, “but we’re kind of getting away from our original question. Who gets hurt, or, conversely, who’d benefit if there’s an infestation of beetles and the government steps in and cuts down a lot of trees?”
“Not me, that’s for sure.”
“Has anybody—either your management company or someone from outside—come looking to buy any of your forest property recently?”
“No. At least, nobody’s approached me about those, just the sawmill lot. Nobody else in the family has mentioned any approach, although I can’t speak to how they would feel about selling.”
“Let me get this straight,” Meg interrupted. “It’s the management company, not you, who hires the loggers who actually choose and cut down the trees?”
“That’s right. I know the company tries to use local staff, so they were happy to have David. Those guys usually come and go on their own schedules. Sometimes, if they were going to be working near the sawmill, they’d give us a heads-up, but it was more a courtesy than a requirement. I’ve had nothing to complain about since we’ve been working with them. Is any of this helpful? Like I told the police, I have no idea why David was found dead. He hadn’t told me he’d be around, but he wasn’t obligated to tell me. He had every right to be on the property, but I can’t say if there was a planned cutting anytime soon, and that would be the only reason for him to be there. Look, I told the police all this, so I assume they talked to the logging company. They haven’t come back to me with any more questions.”
Golden Malicious Page 15
