Sour Apples

by Sheila Connolly

  “I should talk to Lauren if I can. I’m not sure whose side she’s on at the moment. She did give us that information on Rick, but I don’t know if she thought it would clear or implicate him.”

  “Do you think she would put the truth ahead of keeping her job?”

  Meg reflected a moment before answering. “I’m not sure. We were colleagues first, and then friends. You know—she was someone to go to lunch or dinner with, but we never got that close. If somebody asked me, I’d say she is honest, hardworking, loyal, intelligent—all that good stuff. But how far would she go to get what she wants? The stakes are pretty high here. I have no way of knowing.”

  “You two seemed pretty tight when she visited last year,” Seth said.

  “That kind of surprised me, even then. I think she was floundering in Boston and was looking for alternatives. I’d made some big changes in my life, and maybe she was trying that on for size. How do you quantify a friendship, Seth? Lauren and I are seventy-five percent friends?”

  “I can’t tell you that. But what matters now is, how far do you trust her? We’re dealing with two deaths here, three break-ins, a significant corporate cover-up, and a political campaign. All of which are presumably related somehow. Obviously there’s a lot at stake for a lot of people. Where do Lauren’s loyalties lie?”

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to her, at least to thank her for the information.”

  “And will she go running straight to Rick again?”

  “Maybe. Are you assuming he’s manipulating her? I told you, she’s not stupid, and she’s got a pretty good survival sense. I’d like to think she’d see through Rick if he did that. I think I owe it to her to find out.”

  “So call her.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not? What’s to be gained from waiting?”

  Meg shuddered. Twenty-four hours ago Ethan had been alive—and someone had thought he was a threat. Now he was dead. “You’re right.”

  They pulled into Meg’s driveway. Bree was sitting at the kitchen table leafing through a magazine when they walked in. “Hey, guys. What’s up?” Max, who’d been napping on the floor next to her, showed much greater enthusiasm in his greeting.

  “We were over at UMass to talk to a friend of Christopher’s,” Meg said, reluctant to go into the details with Bree. “Did we miss anything here?”

  Bree gave her a questioning look before answering, “Nope, all quiet. Phone didn’t even ring. You got any ideas for dinner?”

  “Yeah, delegating it to you.” Meg grinned at her, and Bree made a face in return.

  “You staying, Seth?” Bree asked. “Because cooking for three’s a whole different ball game than cooking for two.”

  “I’ll let you two fight it out,” Meg said. “I’ve got to make a phone call. So do you, Seth.” She found her cell phone and walked toward the front of the house for some privacy. In the living room, she hit Lauren’s cell number.

  “Lauren Converse. Oh, hi, Meg—my mouth is moving faster than my brain. What do you want?”

  Not the friendliest of tones, but Meg could hear voices and sounds of activity in the background. “You’re not alone?” she asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay. First, I want to thank you for the materials you sent. All the materials.” Meg emphasized the “all,” so Lauren would know she’d seen the extra pages.

  “No problem. The campaign is happy to provide any information you need.”

  “I appreciate that. Look, Lauren, I really need to speak with you.”

  “I don’t know if we can fit that into the schedule. Rick’s pretty fully booked.”

  “You can’t talk openly?” Meg asked.

  “You’ve got it. What did you have in mind?”

  “Breakfast tomorrow?”

  “No can do. We’re talking to the local Rotary club.”

  “Can’t you break free sometime between appointments?” Meg asked. “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

  “That might work. Say, ten?”

  “Fine. Here?”

  “Good. I can fit that in between stops in Springfield and South Hadley. I’ll see you then.” Lauren hung up, leaving Meg bewildered. She walked back to the kitchen, where Seth and Bree were chopping things.

  Seth looked up when she came in. “Did you reach Lauren?”

  “I did,” Meg said, sitting down. “But it was kind of a weird conversation. She wasn’t alone, and I don’t think she wanted whoever was listening to know that we were getting together. I don’t know whether that means I’m now a persona non grata to the campaign, or that her boss is still keeping an eye on her activities. Rick talked a good line, and he certainly turned over the documents quickly enough, but I wonder if he’s trying to keep Lauren and me apart.”

  “Are you two getting together?”

  “Yes, she’s going to be here at ten tomorrow, between other engagements. How’d you do?”

  “Marcus was out of the office and isn’t expected back today,” Seth said. “I left a message saying that I had some new information about the Truesdell case and wanted to talk to him.”

  Bree had been following this exchange and finally broke in. “What’s going on? Why so hush-hush?”

  “It looks as though Pioneer Valley knew their cleanup of the Granford property was incomplete, but they covered it up and falsified documents,” Seth summarized neatly.

  “Oh, wow. You can prove it?”

  “Yes. The guy who signed the documents told us.”

  “And this leads back to the campaign?”

  “We have no proof of that,” Meg said carefully. “At the time of the cleanup, Rick was running the company, and the division handling the remediation was under a lot of pressure to perform and stick to the schedule. But we have no tangible evidence that Rick knew what was going on, or condoned it.”

  “But you think he did,” Bree stated flatly. “Where do you think Lauren fits? She’s only been working for him for a month or so, right?”

  “Yes, but if this blows up into a scandal, it would have a direct impact on the campaign. She may not know anything specific, but she might have heard some talk in-house. I just want to give her a heads-up, in case this becomes public.”

  “Looks like you’re saying that Joyce Truesdell was killed over this,” Bree protested. “You really think that’s not going to go public? Are you looking to help Lauren spin this?”

  That was an angle that hadn’t occurred to Meg. Did she want to let Lauren get ahead of the story, before it came out? “No, not exactly. Look, Seth and I have tried hard to be discreet about this. We both know that even a rumor that the campaign had anything to do with what happened to Joyce could do serious damage, whether or not it’s true. For the moment, I want to know if Lauren knows anything and give her fair warning that bad stuff may be coming. I think I owe that to her as a friend. Seth is going to give what we’ve found to Detective Marcus. Oh, and it’s two people who are dead.”

  “What?” Bree looked shocked. “Who else?”

  “Joyce’s husband Ethan was found hanging in his barn this morning. It looked like a suicide, but the police were not convinced—the timing was pretty convenient. They’re investigating.”

  After her initial reaction, Bree burst out, “You think the same people killed him to keep him quiet? Damn, Meg, this is serious. Why isn’t that thick-headed detective doing something about all this?”

  “Because he doesn’t have all the information that we do yet—that’s why we’re going to tell him as soon as we can. Look, we just put it together ourselves. But you know how Marcus feels about Seth and me—he may not want to listen, or he may not believe us. And I’m worried about Lauren.”

  “Lady, stop worrying about your buddy Lauren—she’s a big girl and she can handle it. Worry about yourself—and me! Now that you’ve told me, I know too much, and they’d have to take me out, too!”

  Meg looked hard at Bree, wondering if she was seriously troubled or ex
aggerating—and couldn’t decide which it was. “Listen, Bree, we don’t really know anything—we’re making guesses, and what pieces we have sort of fit together, but that’s a long step from accusing anyone of murder. We’ll turn all this over to Marcus and let him run with it. Seth, you agree?”

  “I do. Although I’d bring Art in, too, since the deaths occurred in his town. And that way we’re spreading the risk around, if there is any. I’m not convinced, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “Can we wait until morning to talk to Art?” Meg asked. “Because I’m exhausted, and I can’t think straight.”

  “I think it can wait,” Seth said, “as long as you’ll let me stay here and keep an eye on things.”

  “I can handle that. Bree, dinner?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bree grumbled, and opened the refrigerator door. “Hey, Seth, you owe me. I walked your dog—twice.”

  The next morning Meg woke with the sun. She lay still against Seth’s reassuring warmth, going over what had happened the day before and what might happen today. Poor Ethan. He’d followed Joyce into a business he didn’t like, out of love for her, and in the end he had died for it. Of course, no one could have foreseen that. Had he been killed merely because he had seen the conflicting soil reports? Or because of something else?

  She realized that she hadn’t considered whether Marvin might be in danger. He was probably a weak link in this whole cover-up, although he had kept quiet for more than a decade. Would he be smart enough to take precautions? Would the killer risk another death? He would have to balance the plusses of silencing one of the key figures in the whole mess against a third suspicious death that could be linked to two others. But how many people knew of the connection? At the moment that list included her, Seth, and Bree. And Art, as soon as Seth had a chance to fill him in. And Marvin, of course, and maybe Christopher. Was there safety in numbers? Surely someone would notice if any more people died in a brief period.

  What did Lauren know? Was Lauren so desperate for a job that she’d do anything to hang on to it, even one as uncertain as a political campaign manager? Meg had tried to warn her, but what if Lauren was deliberately turning a blind eye to what was going on?

  Seth rolled over and without opening his eyes said, “I can hear you thinking.”

  “I’m sorry—did the grinding of the gears in my head wake you up?”

  “No, not really. I’m probably on the same page. Lauren will be here at ten?”

  “So she said.”

  “So we should plan to talk to Art after that, and then Marcus.”

  “I guess. Does what we cobbled together still sound believable by the light of day?”

  “Maybe. Ask me after a cup of coffee.”

  Once downstairs, Meg fed Lolly and Max, and Seth took Max out for a walk. Bree announced she was going to see Michael in Amherst, since there were no pressing tasks in the orchard, and she wasn’t sure when she’d be back. Meg wondered if Bree was trying to remove herself from harm’s way. No one would track her to Michael’s place, would they? Meg, you’re being ridiculous! She was looking at this as a huge conspiracy; in fact, it was probably no more than a few ordinary people like Marvin who had made understandable mistakes under difficult circumstances. The problem was, Marvin had compounded those mistakes by trying to hide them now.

  But two people were dead.

  She fidgeted for an hour, straightening things, then straightening them again, until Seth finally lost patience. “I’m going out to my office to finish sorting out my files,” he announced. “I’ll try calling Marcus again from there, and you and Lauren can talk alone. Let me know when she’s gone.”

  “You sure whoever is behind this won’t come after you?” Meg said anxiously. “After all, you’re the next stumbling block.”

  “I’ll watch my back. And if this person is thinking straight at all, he’s got to know the story is too big to kill now. Too many people know too much.”

  “All right, I guess. But be careful.” Meg wasn’t sure she wanted to tackle Lauren alone, but she had to admit Lauren might be more forthcoming if she didn’t feel like she was being ganged up on. Maybe.

  It was closer to ten thirty when Lauren finally arrived. She climbed out of her car and stalked to the back door. Lauren’s defensive attitude immediately annoyed Meg.

  “Lauren, please come in and sit down.” She was going to say her piece and Lauren had to listen, whether she liked it or not.

  Lauren gave her a long look and reluctantly took a seat. “So, talk. I am not going to sit here and listen to you tell me that Rick Sainsbury is a murderer,” she said, although she sounded slightly less sure than she had at the coffee shop.

  “Look, Lauren, we’ve got new evidence that links Rick’s company directly to the polluted site and a botched cleanup, and we’re giving it to the state police today. Maybe Rick didn’t play a hands-on role, but I find it hard to believe he had no idea what was going on. Plus he’s good at inspiring loyalty, if you’re any indication. Maybe someone else decided to help Rick out and make the problem go away before it got worse. Maybe his father-in-law, maybe one of his old pals. I’m sure you recognize that something like this could destroy his precious campaign before it even gets started, if it gets out.”

  “What, is that some kind of threat?”

  Could Lauren possibly be that stubbornly deluded? “Lauren, I don’t stand to gain a damned thing by attacking Rick Sainsbury. But if someone has killed two people just to promote Rick’s political career, I have to do something.”

  Lauren stared at her, then said slowly, “You seriously think someone is killing people just so Rick can run for Congress?”

  “I can’t prove it all yet,” Meg shot back, “but if it’s even a small possibility, I’m not going to sit by and do nothing.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” She sighed. “But, Meg, I will not believe that Rick is a killer.”

  Meg was startled by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She stood and went to the window to see who it was, then turned back to Lauren. “What’s one of your campaign guys doing here?”

  29

  “What are you talking about?” Lauren stood up and joined Meg at the window. “Oh, it’s Tom Ferriter. You remember—he was with me yesterday morning when I stopped by. I have no idea why he’s here now.”

  “Was he listening when I called you last night?” Meg asked.

  “Possibly. He’s usually hanging around, eavesdropping.” Lauren didn’t look at Meg.

  Meg turned quickly to face her. “Lauren, why were you being evasive when you talked to me yesterday? You didn’t want anyone there to know you were seeing me?”

  “Well, no, nothing like that…” Lauren fumbled.

  “Don’t you have just a few doubts about these deaths and the people you’re working with? You can’t write all of this off to coincidence! Too much is happening. If you really want to clear Rick, we have to get to the bottom of this. So, again, what is Tom doing here?”

  “I honestly don’t know! But it looks like we’re going to find out,” Lauren said as Tom strode toward the back door. “Let me talk to him.”

  Lauren opened the door. “Tom, is there a problem? I thought you were setting up for Rick in Holyoke.”

  Tom stepped inside without invitation and quickly scanned the room. “There’s no problem. Or maybe I oughta say, you’re the problem. What’re you doing here talking with this troublemaker? Rick’s not gonna be happy about that.”

  “Tom, Meg’s an old friend,” Lauren replied tartly. “Besides, I don’t work for you, and I certainly don’t have to report to you. It’s the other way around, remember? If Rick has a problem with me, he can tell me himself.”

  “What do you want, Tom?” Meg stepped forward and demanded. “I don’t recall inviting you in.”

  Tom looked her up and down. “What, I’m not good enough to walk into your house now? Who do you think you are, trying to bring down a good candidate? Makes you feel important?
What bull has Chapin been feeding you? He doesn’t want to see a hometown boy make something of himself? He’s not one to talk.”

  Meg was not going to let herself be drawn into defending Seth. “Tom, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about the deaths of Joyce and Ethan Truesdell, would you?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, a calculating look in his eye. “You mean those farmers on the north side of town? The lady got kicked in the head by a cow. Hubby was so broken up about it that he hung himself. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “The state police don’t believe that’s what happened.”

  Meg wasn’t surprised to see Tom’s body tense, but he didn’t lose his swagger. “So?”

  “So, those people were grazing cattle on land that Rick’s company was supposed to have cleaned up a decade ago. The cattle got sick, and—funny thing—it turns out the land wasn’t cleaned up properly. It wouldn’t make Rick look very good if that came out, now, would it?”

  “It’s a big company,” he protested. “Why would Rick know anything about it?”

  “It wasn’t so big when it happened. In fact, it was the first cleanup job the company ever handled, and it was important to get it done on time and under budget, right? Which they did, by cutting corners,” Meg said.

  “Prove it.”

  “Trust me, Tom. I can,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.

  Tom’s face reddened, but to Meg’s surprise he kept himself under control. “Okay, say it’s true. So what? It happened years ago. Who’s going to care now?”

  “A lot of people, starting with the police. It’s a motive for murder. Two murders, in fact.”

  “You think you know so much? Well, I know a lot about you. You’ve been stirring up trouble since you showed up in Granford. You’re the one who torpedoed that shopping center deal, which made a lot of people unhappy. That woulda brought jobs and tax income to town. And your boyfriend—his dad was in on the cleanup project, too; maybe he had a hand in it. Or should I say, a hand out? That comes out, his business will be in the tank—say good-bye to the good Chapin name. And once Rick wins the election, a word from him and nobody’s gonna buy your apples. You’ll be out of business in a year or two.”