Sour Apples

by Sheila Connolly

  “Oh, Meg,” Lydia said, “surely you aren’t suggesting that Rick killed someone just for the sake of his campaign? That’s awful.”

  “It would be, if it were true. But it’s only a theory. I’d be more than happy to hear any others. How would you connect the dots here?”

  “There’s something wrong about the cleanup, and Rick Sainsbury is involved,” Lydia said. “That’s the conclusion I’d draw, much as I dislike the idea.”

  “Exactly.”

  They both fell silent, a silence that stretched to a minute and more. Finally Lydia said, “I knew Rick’s father. He was a decent and honest man, as far as I knew. Not that we socialized, but he paid on time, and he was good to Cal toward the end, gave him as much work as Cal could handle. I can’t believe he would have knowingly mishandled a contaminated site.”

  “There’s a lot we don’t know, Lydia. For a start, we don’t have any proof that the land is still contaminated, but that’s easy enough to find out.”

  “How?”

  “We can request a test of our own. There’s a soil-testing lab based at the university in Amherst, but more important, I’ve got a friend who I think can jump us to the head of the queue, off the record. At least I hope so. If the lab doesn’t find lead in the soil sample, then at least we can eliminate that problem and leave Pioneer Valley in the clear.”

  “Shouldn’t the town be doing that?” Lydia asked.

  “For all I know, they already have. But it’s not expensive and it’s easy to do, so why not cover all our bases?” Meg replied.

  “What do we need to do?” Lydia asked.

  “Get soil samples, obviously. Let me call my friend first and see what I need.”

  “Meg, wait—shouldn’t we talk to Seth about this? Or Ethan Truesdell, since it’s his land?”

  “We don’t need permission to test the soil—technically it’s town-owned land,” Meg said. Actually, she had no idea if that was true, but it seemed logical. And if Ethan saw them and asked, she hoped he would approve. “It’s not like we’re breaking any laws, except maybe trespassing, and who’s going to complain about that?” she reasoned.

  “There’s still something about doing this that troubles me,” Lydia said.

  “Lydia, I understand, really. But if there’s anything funny going on and somehow that led to a murder, then the fewer people we involve, the better off we are.”

  Lydia nodded. “I see your point.”

  “Let me call now, and then we can go find the property. Unless you’d rather not go?” Meg asked anxiously.

  Lydia laughed. “I wouldn’t miss it! As you say, at the very least it will put our minds at ease, and we can laugh about our overactive imaginations later. How many samples do you think we’ll need?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d better take several, from different places on the site, just to be sure. Can you find something we can use to put the samples in?”

  “No problem. You go call your friend.”

  Meg retrieved her cell phone, grateful that she’d programmed Christopher Ramsdell’s office number into it. She hadn’t had much occasion to call him lately, but she knew that he had facilitated the purchase of the trees for their new orchard planting. At the very least she owed Christopher a thank-you for that, which would be a good way to lead into the conversation. She hit the Send button.

  Christopher answered on the third ring. “Meg, my dear, I was hoping I would hear from you!” The hint of an English accent, dating to his childhood years, always cheered Meg. “How is your new venture going?”

  “Just fine, Christopher. If Bree hasn’t already told you, the trees were delivered on time and we got them all into the ground by yesterday. Now all we have to do is wait! Thank you so much for putting her in touch with the vendor. She told me it was too good a deal to pass up. If you hadn’t done that, I probably would still be waffling about what to plant and when.”

  “It sounds as though you have things well under control. I shall have to come see what you’ve done.”

  “I’d love to show you. In some ways it still feels like your orchard, but I’m learning. Listen, Christopher, I have a favor to ask.”

  “If it is within my powers, I am happy to comply. What do you need?”

  “I’d like to get some soil samples tested, quickly and discreetly. I know I could go through other channels, but that would take a while, and I thought maybe you had a contact at the soil-testing service at the university.”

  “I do, of course, but why? You think there’s something wrong with your soil?”

  “No, it’s not mine. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but if I could get this done quickly, I’d be very grateful. If the tests come back negative, I’ll tell you what I suspected and we can laugh at it together.”

  “Curiouser and curiouser! But it will be an easy favor for me to grant. Do you have the samples you want tested?”

  “Not yet, but I will later today. May I drop them off at your office this afternoon? Will you be there?”

  “In and out—this new building project has been a morass of small details and eats up huge chunks of my time. And it will go on for another six months, at least! I would welcome the diversion of your visit. If it happens that I’m not around, just leave them outside my door in an anonymous brown paper bag, if you wish.”

  Meg could visualize the twinkle in his eye. “That will be fine. But I hope I’ll see you later.”

  They rang off after good-byes, and Meg went back to the kitchen, where Lydia waved a box of sealable bags at her. “All set?” Lydia asked. “While you were on the phone I looked up the university testing website online and found out how they wanted the samples to be kept. They recommend plastic bags.”

  “Okay, good. Bring a marker so we can label where specifically the samples came from. Whatever we’re dealing with may be localized on the site.”

  “The web page said we should take multiple samples, then mix the soil up. But I don’t think they were expecting anything like this!”

  The drive over to the land the Truesdells leased took no more than ten minutes. On this bright morning there were few people on the road, and Meg felt relieved: no one would be watching them and wondering what they were doing poking holes in a field. She slowed as she approached what she thought was the right area. “Do you know where we’re going?” she asked Lydia dubiously.

  “Sort of. I don’t remember exactly where the paint factory started and ended, but we just went past the Truesdell farm on the left there. Does that help?”

  Meg called up a mental picture of the map that Gail had shown her. “Yes, it does. That means that the old factory site should be right here, and there’s probably an access lane—yes, there.” The entire field was fenced now, but Meg thought she and Lydia could get under the fence easily enough. She turned into the lane and pulled up as close to the fence as she could, then stopped the car. “Here we are.” From the trunk Meg gathered the bags as well as a couple of small trowels. “Ready?”

  “I suppose,” Lydia said. “Lead the way.”

  Meg held up the lower wire of the fencing to allow Lydia to crawl under, then followed her. She scanned the field: fairly level, although it sloped down toward the north, where Meg remembered seeing the small pond and feeder stream on the map. The grass, tainted or not, certainly looked vigorous and healthy. “Too bad we can’t see where the buildings were, although that doesn’t mean that’s where the factory would have dumped their residue. I’d guess that a lot would have ended up in the pond over there, but the buildings might have been closer to the road. Why don’t we get three sets of samples—one where we think the buildings were, one near the water, and one from somewhere in the middle of the field? That should give us a range of readings.”

  After half an hour they had collected samples from two of the places she had chosen. It had been easier than she had expected: apparently Joyce had tilled the land before reseeding it the prior year, and mostly the soil yielded easily. They wer
e walking toward the last site, in the middle of the field, when Lydia nudged Meg. “We’ve got company. Over there, by the road.”

  Meg followed Lydia’s glance and saw a man leaning against a car parked on the grassy verge by the road. He appeared to be watching them. Meg didn’t recognize him—from his build it was clear that he definitely was not Ethan—and could tell only that he looked to be in his thirties and was substantially built and casually dressed. Why was he watching? Meg stared at him for several seconds, and she knew he saw her, but he made no move.

  “Let’s get this last batch and leave,” Meg said to Lydia. “He’s making me nervous.”

  They filled a dozen bags, labeling them carefully, but before returning to the car, Meg stopped to survey the surrounding area. She could just see the top of what was presumably the Truesdell barn over the low ridge to the south. The cows must be grazing on the other side. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them lowing. It all looked very peaceful and ordinary, but what was going on below the surface?

  Lydia seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “How unreal that there could be something about this place that would lead to murder.”

  “You wouldn’t think so to look at it, would you? It really is a pity. From all I’ve heard, Joyce worked hard and never had a chance to enjoy the results. I wonder how Ethan is managing.”

  “It can’t be easy. There’s no way that one person can manage a dairy herd, even a small one. Poor man.”

  Meg took one last glance around, then pivoted to look for their mystery observer: he was gone. She said, “Let’s go drop these off at Christopher’s office, and then we can have a late lunch.”

  “That sounds lovely. I don’t often get the chance to go out to lunch in Amherst, but I’m not exactly dressed for it.” Lydia looked down at her jeans, now muddy at the knees.

  “We can find a take-out place for sandwiches if you like,” Meg said.

  The trip to the UMass campus took only another fifteen minutes, and Meg was lucky to find a visitor parking space near Christopher’s office. “Are you coming in, Lydia?”

  “I look a mess,” Lydia said.

  “Christopher won’t care, believe me.”

  “What are we telling him?” Lydia asked as she reluctantly followed Meg into the building that housed Christopher’s office.

  “Don’t worry, I told him what we needed, but I said I couldn’t tell him the details. After all, if I did, he might feel obligated to do something official about it, and I think that would be premature. This whole thing may be no more than a spiderweb of conjectures, and we need time to consider what our next step would be. Which could be nothing.”

  “Let us hope. Did he mind being kept in the dark?”

  “I think he trusts me, and I know I trust him.” Meg knocked on the door and heard footsteps approaching.

  Christopher opened it, beaming. Meg thought he looked a bit more rumpled than usual, his silver hair mussed, his shirt wrinkled. That campus construction project must be keeping him very busy.

  “Ah, there you are, Meg,” he greeted, her, “quite prompt. And I see you’ve brought company.”

  “Lydia has been helping me collect samples. Christopher, this is Lydia Chapin, Seth’s mother. She lives next door, sort of.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Lydia. I hope Meg here isn’t leading you astray.”

  Lydia smiled at him. “If she is, I’m going willingly. It’s lovely to meet you, too. I’m sure I’ve seen you from a distance. Didn’t Meg tell me that you managed the Warren orchard for years?”

  “I did. It caused me no small pang to turn it over, even to the capable hands of Meg and her delightful assistant Briona—who in fact used to be a student of mine, and a good one.”

  “It was Christopher who recommended Bree to me, for which I will be eternally grateful,” Meg told Lydia.

  “She has worked out well, hasn’t she?” Christopher beamed like a proud parent.

  “She’s been terrific. You would have been so impressed: we got those new trees planted in two days.”

  “I am impressed! Make sure you water them well, but hold off on fertilizing until they’re established.”

  “That’s what Bree said. I just follow orders.”

  “I hate to rush you, but I have yet another meeting with the construction manager. You have the samples you spoke of?”

  “I do.” Meg handed over a carrier bag containing the bagged soil samples. “We took them from three different locations, but we labeled them only 1, 2, and 3.”

  “And you aren’t going to share with me where you obtained them, hmm? Are there any tests in particular that I should ask for?”

  “If there’s such a thing as a full chemical panel, could you have them do that? Again, I don’t want to say any more.”

  “Pesticides? Organic content?”

  “No and no. Just any chemicals that shouldn’t be there, or at least, not in large concentrations. All right?”

  “As you wish. It may take a day or two, depending on how busy the lab is right now.”

  “I understand. And thank you. I appreciate your discretion. When you have a little spare time, you should come over and see the new plantings. Maybe say a few words over them and encourage them to grow?”

  Christopher’s mouth twitched. “Sounds positively druidical, but I think I’d enjoy that. Did you know that the apple tree was sacred to the Druids?”

  “No, I didn’t, but trust you to know! Let me know when the reports are done, and thank you again.”

  “Ladies, I’ll walk you out. Lydia, it was lovely to meet you. I hope our paths will cross again.”

  They parted company at the front door of the building. Christopher took off at a brisk pace toward the campus’s administrative center, while Meg and Lydia walked more slowly back to Meg’s car.

  “My, he is charming, isn’t he?” Lydia said.

  “He is, and it’s absolutely sincere. How rare is that? He also genuinely likes to help people, like Bree, for example. She could have had trouble finding a job, since she was young and untested, not to mention female and Jamaican, but Christopher put the two of us together and everybody benefitted. And on a higher level, he was responsible for wooing donors and bringing the new research center to campus.”

  “So he’s a charmer on more than one level.” Lydia fastened her seatbelt and sat back in the seat. “You know, I’m not sure what results I want from these tests. If they find nothing out of the ordinary, we’ll feel stupid but we won’t have to do anything further. If they do find something, then what?”

  “Lydia, I wish I knew. One step at a time.”

  21

  Meg dropped Lydia back at her house and went home to take a shower. She found Bree sitting in the kitchen reading a magazine when she arrived.

  “You’ve been gone for a while,” Bree said, without looking up. “Anything I need to know about?”

  Meg debated about how much to tell her. “I went over to help Lydia search her attic for those papers, and then saw Christopher this afternoon and thanked him for his help finding the new trees.”

  “Why were you in Amherst?” Bree asked.

  “It’s kind of complicated. But don’t worry, it’s nothing serious.” Even as she said the words, Meg wondered if they were true. The results from the lab could mean something quite serious was going on, but there was no need to involve Bree until she had some concrete information. “Christopher reminded me that we need to water the new trees.”

  “Well, duh. All taken care of. Having that spring up the hill is really a blessing. But some of our irrigation lines need to be replaced.”

  “You figure out what we need and buy it. Right now, I want a shower.” She fled up the stairs before Bree could ask any more questions.

  By the time Meg returned downstairs, Bree had retreated to her own room. She pondered what to make for dinner. Bree could cook, Meg knew, but she usually chose not to. Meg wasn’t sure why she clung to the idea of a seated meal
at least once a day, but ordering in seemed inefficient and extravagant, even if Bree had no objections.

  Her ruminations were interrupted by Seth’s entry through the back door. “Meg, I wish you hadn’t dragged my mother into this,” he said abruptly.

  “What, you mean the old business files? You knew we were going to go through them today. You’ve talked to her?” For the life of her Meg couldn’t see why he would be upset.

  “Yes, I stopped by on my way home. She asked me to haul the file boxes downstairs so she could finish going through them. And she told me what you’d found in them.”

  “That your father had done some work on the site cleanup? We’d already guessed that, hadn’t we? All we were doing was looking to see if there were any records that referred to the remediation of the factory site among your company files, and in fact we found some. We didn’t learn a whole lot. There were some invoices for your father’s hours and a very vague description of what he did, and that’s all. Why is that a problem?”

  “Because if someone thinks my mother knows something from those files, she could be in danger.”

  “Is that what this is about? Seth, listen to yourself! Your mother is a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. She’s not a frail flower who needs protection. She knows the risks—she’s already been broken into once, remember, and it’s only because the files were buried in the attic that whoever it was didn’t find them. She was going to go through those no matter what, and, as you well know, she asked me to help.” Meg hesitated for a moment, then decided to put everything on the table and let Seth get over it all at once—if at all. “Did she tell you what else we did today?”

  “No. Do I want to know?”

  “Probably not, but in the interest of full disclosure I’m going to tell you anyway. We collected soil samples from Joyce’s pasture, and we delivered them to Christopher Ramsdell, who has a contact at the university’s soil-testing lab in Amherst. He said he’d ask for a quick turnaround.”