Bitter Harvest

by Sheila Connolly

  But first she called Bree on her cell phone. “Bree? Were you planning to come back tonight?”

  “Uh, maybe. Why?”

  “I’m hatching a plan to identify our mystery stalker, and I want to talk to you and Seth about it. I’ll make dinner.”

  “Uh, sure, okay. See you sixish.”

  26

  Meg had massacred an army of spiders, and her windows were cleaner than they had been since she had arrived. She was basking in the glow of virtuous satisfaction as she chopped parsley. Seth had agreed to join them for dinner, and was due to arrive any minute. Bree returned first and came bounding in. “Hey, you need any help?”

  “No, I’ve got it under control. Thanks for coming back—I didn’t mean to cut into your time with Michael.”

  “He’s cool with it. He had some stuff he had to do, anyway. It’s not like we can’t stand to be separated, you know.”

  Did she know? Bree’s love life was her own business, and Meg didn’t pry. She liked Michael. And a small part of her was glad that Bree wasn’t rushing into any kind of serious relationship; she’d rather Bree concentrated on the business, at least for now.

  Bree helped herself to a soda from the refrigerator. “Besides, I want to hear what you’re planning.”

  “And I want your input. This all started when I realized in the middle of the night that I’m tired of sitting here waiting for the next bad thing to happen, without doing anything about it. I think it’s time to turn the tables.”

  “Good for you. I’m with you.”

  Seth’s van pulled into the driveway, and a few moments later he knocked at the back door. Meg went to open it. “Hey, you don’t need to knock.”

  “Just being polite.”

  “Bree’s here.”

  “I know—I saw her car. So I can’t ravish you on the kitchen floor?”

  “Save that for later.”

  Bree was watching them with amusement. “Hi, Seth. I guess you guys made up, huh?”

  Meg looked at Seth, and they both smiled. “Uh, yeah,” Meg said. “Seth, help yourself to something to drink. I’ll finish cooking.” As Seth fished a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, she added, “I was surprised to see Jenn here today. She said Eli had a doctor’s appointment but John had the checkbook. You said their baby was sick? He seemed fine today. What’s the problem?”

  Seth shrugged. “I don’t really know. John doesn’t talk about it. I get the impression it’s something chronic, though. I wish I could hire him and give him health insurance, but I don’t have the work, at least not at the moment. He signed up with the state program, but even that’s hard to afford. Lousy situation all around.”

  “It’s sad. And I’m pretty sure Jenn was hungry when she was here. I offered her some coffee cake and it disappeared in under a minute. She said they’re living with his mother?”

  “That’s what I understand. She’s been widowed for years, so I guess it works out for all of them.”

  Meg dished up dinner and set plates on the table. “Okay, let’s eat, and then we can plan.”

  They talked about trivial things through dinner and while they cleared away the dishes. Meg put a plate of cookies—another product of her free afternoon—in the center of the table, filled coffee cups, and sat down. “I feel like I should say, ‘the meeting will come to order.’ Bree, you take notes.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yes, I’m kidding. Okay, Seth and I were talking this morning—”

  “Bet that’s not all you were doing,” Bree said, grinning, her mouth full of cookie.

  “Shut up.” Meg glanced sidelong at Seth, who was studying the depths of his coffee—and smiling. “So as I told you both, I was thinking last night and I realized I want to do something about this. Seth pointed out that there’s nothing the police can do to help, at least until some major crime is committed, and we don’t want to wait for that.”

  “No way,” Bree said. “But what can we do?”

  Seth spoke up. “We’ve already ruled out using electronic devices—too complex, too expensive, and probably too obvious. So Meg thinks we use human eyes. We start by making sure there’s somebody here 24/7. We stay alert.”

  “And we set a trap,” Meg interrupted. When Seth cocked his head at her, she went on, “No, not a physical trap. We just make it look like no one’s home, then wait and see if this person takes advantage of it.”

  “And how long are we supposed to keep doing this?” Bree asked, looking skeptical.

  “I don’t think we’d have to wait too long,” Meg said. “Look, these things seem to have started happening less than two weeks ago. Assuming that was the beginning, then there’s been something almost every day since. So, bottom line—this person is moving fast and keeping up the pressure.”

  “If we knew ‘why’ we’d have a better chance of knowing ‘who,’ ” Seth said quietly.

  “I agree,” Meg replied, “but I’ve racked my brains and I can’t come up with anything. You’ve lived here all your life, Seth. Any ideas?”

  Seth sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked tired. “No. It would be nice if it was an outsider, wouldn’t it? I know—they don’t know you, and they’d have no reason to target you. But at the same time I can’t think of anyone in Granford who would have a grudge against you—that’s what makes this so hard to figure out.”

  Meg nodded, then resumed, “Can we set up a schedule, so that at least one of us is here and awake at all times? I can cover a lot of it, since I don’t have anywhere I have to be right now. But not twenty-four hours a day! I can plan any errands I have to do when Bree will be here. Seth, what can you handle?”

  “Not much, at least during the day. I’ve got a couple of jobs going, but they’re scattered, so I’m moving from one to the other. Night’s better, but I can’t promise I’ll stay awake. Bree, how about you?”

  “I don’t need much sleep—I can probably cover the late shift. How about this: we ditch the cars somewhere else and then sneak back? So it looks like the place is empty, but it’s not?”

  “Good idea, but let’s start tomorrow night. I have to make some plans first. Oh, by the way,” Seth added, “the weather report says it might snow again.”

  “A lot?” Meg said anxiously.

  “Not like the last time, just a normal winter snowfall.”

  “Will that make a difference in our plans?”

  “Maybe. Snow would make it harder to see anyone, but then they would leave footprints, at least for a short while—so at least you’d be sure you’re not imagining things. Let’s just play it by ear, okay?”

  “Okay, I guess,” Meg said, stifling a sigh. She really wanted to get started, because she wanted the whole thing to be over. “Bree, will you be around tomorrow?”

  “I can be. So, how do we pull off hiding my car?”

  “You can leave it at my place,” Seth offered.

  “And then I can come and collect you there,” said Meg.

  “Ooh, do I get to hide under a blanket in the trunk?”

  “Only if you really want to.” Meg laughed. “It’s pretty dark late in the afternoon, especially if it clouds over, so if you leave by four or five, you can sneak into the house.”

  “Why not the barn?” Bree asked.

  “What?” Meg replied, startled.

  “I could spend the night in the barn, like you did. We’ve got built-in goat-heat”—Bree flashed a smile—“and if I was out there, it would spread us around, give us different views, better coverage. You bring me back and I sneak into the barn, and lay low for the night. You got any night-vision goggles?”

  “I do not! Wouldn’t you be kind of bored with no light and nothing to do out there?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Meg turned to Seth. “Does that make any sense?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “She’s right—it would expand the area we could watch. She’s got windows in a couple of the doors, but she�
�d have to keep patrolling. But if it’s late, I think anybody moving around outside would be pretty obvious and she’d hear. Nobody can be completely quiet.”

  “If you say so,” Meg said, unconvinced. “This person has managed to sneak up on us before, even while we were in the house.”

  “But you weren’t paying attention,” Seth said.

  “Okay, say Bree settles in the barn after dark. What about us?”

  “You can drive over to my place, and we’ll walk back.”

  “In the dark?”

  “Meg, I’ve been walking around here for most of my life. It’ll be fine. I’m not asking you to do it alone.”

  Meg wasn’t reassured. “Then how do we sneak into the house?”

  “The door from the shed. Wear dark clothes. Leave the door unlocked and the lights off—Bree will be watching until we get back. Then we can spell each other through the night.”

  Meg sat back and looked at Bree and Seth. The idea was solid, but as they laid out the details, it sounded more and more ridiculous. She was pretty sure she would sound like an elephant blundering around in the dark, even with Seth to guide her—not the best way to avoid detection. But what other alternatives were there? She couldn’t think of any.

  “I guess that’s the best we can do. So, Bree, we’ll trade off during the day tomorrow and do whatever we need to do, then you’ll drive to Seth’s and I’ll collect you there and sneak you back.”

  “Hey, that means the place will be uncovered then,” Bree pointed out.

  “I can try to stop by after five, and wait for you to come back, Meg,” Seth said.

  Meg nodded. “Okay. Then you leave, and Bree hides in the barn. Then I’ll leave, and you and I will come back overland. Should we write a script for this?” Meg received blank stares. “I mean, shouldn’t we have some kind of dialogue, in case anybody’s watching? Like ‘So you’re going over to Michael’s and you’ll be gone all night, right, Bree?’ ”

  Bree laughed. “And my line is, ‘Yes, Meg, I will be gone until tomorrow. And yourself?’ ”

  Meg countered, “‘Indeed, Bree, I plan to go over to Seth’s house and stay there all night. I shall feed the cat and the goats before I leave, but I will not be back until morning.’ ”

  “You two are nuts,” Seth said, smiling. “I don’t think anyone would be close enough to hear you, but if it makes you happy, go for it.”

  Bree bounded out of her chair. “Well, I’d better rest up for our big day—or should I say night?—tomorrow. I’ll leave you two kids alone.” Before Meg could say anything, Bree had disappeared up the back stairs to her room. Leaving the last of the dirty dishes, Meg noted.

  “You want help cleaning up?” Seth asked.

  “No, don’t worry about it. You’ve already put in a full day of work. Seth, is this crazy?”

  “Odd, maybe. But I understand that you want to do something, and I don’t think this will be dangerous. And I’ll be around to keep an eye on things.”

  Meg swatted his arm. “Oh, yes, I need a big strong man to protect me. But seriously, you don’t think there would be any violence, do you?”

  Seth studied her face before answering. “Maybe I’ve lived around here too long. The people I know in Granford aren’t violent. My gut feeling is, if this person had wanted to do any real harm, either to you or to your property, he would have by now. It would be too darn easy to set fire to the barn or shoot your goats when they were outside.”

  “Seth!” Meg was appalled at the thought, but realized he had a point.

  “I’m just saying that he could have, but didn’t. And believe me, if I thought you were truly at risk I wouldn’t let you out of my sight. Seriously, I don’t think destruction is the point here. I think this is intended to keep you on edge.”

  “This jerk is good at that, damn him, whatever it is he is doing. I just hope this doesn’t take too long—more than a couple of nights, anyway.”

  “Amen to that,” Seth said, standing up slowly. “I’d better be going. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  Meg stood up, too, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Thank you for going along with this. It may be silly, but . . .”

  “I don’t think it’s silly. I think you’re defending your home, which is pretty primal. I admire you for trying, whether or not it works. Nobody can say you don’t have guts.”

  “Yeah, I’m a gutsy broad.” She kissed him hard, then shoved him away. “Go home and get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. See you in the morning.”

  Meg cleaned up the kitchen, locked up, and went to bed, trailed by Lolly.

  The next morning the sky was heavily overcast. Maybe the forecasters were right about snow. Should they defer their plan to trap a . . . what? Harasser? There should be a better word. “Nemesis” sounded a bit too strong, invoking overtones of fate and angry gods. “Gadfly”? Not serious enough. “Persecutor”? “Tormentor”? Nothing felt right. But Meg still wanted an answer, an identity for the shadowy figure who’d been dogging her for a couple of weeks now.

  Bree was sitting at the table drinking coffee and reading the paper when Meg came downstairs.

  “What are they saying about the weather?” Meg asked, filling her own mug.

  “Snow, maybe four to six inches. No big deal.”

  Meg wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. She sat down. “You have any new thoughts about our plan?”

  “Not really. I agree with you, in principle—but I’m not convinced that what we’re planning will flush him out. If he’s smart he’ll see right through us and just wait for a while.”

  “I know.” Meg sipped her coffee. “I’d still like to know what set him off, and why he’s in such a hurry. Why now?”

  “Fewer people around? When we were picking, there were always people coming and going, and one of us was home most nights.”

  “True, but that makes a person hanging around here all the more obvious now. No, I think there must have been something that triggered this, but I can’t figure out what it could be. What happened around Thanksgiving?”

  “Got me. We finished the harvest, went to Rachel’s for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “Maybe somebody thought we took their place at Rachel’s dinner? She’s one good cook!”

  “Agreed. But bugging you after the fact doesn’t change anything. Seth have any jealous ex-girlfriends?”

  “Not that I know of. I can’t imagine his ex-wife is involved in this. You think someone else has set her cap for him and is trying to drive me away so she has a clear field?”

  “Boy, are you mixing your metaphors.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Bree nodded. “Yeah, I do. And no, I don’t think that’s it.”

  Meg giggled. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Look, I’ve got a couple of small errands to do this morning. What are you up to?”

  “I’m going to catch up on my reading—it’s a real treat to have enough time for it.”

  “Good for you. Just keep your eyes and ears open, will you?”

  “Always do.”

  After breakfast Meg went out to the car. The air felt heavy. Could one smell snow coming? Maybe if she hung around in Granford long enough she’d learn to recognize it. She got into the car and headed toward the nearest mall: new socks, some nicer underwear—she giggled at that thought—and a stop at a pharmacy were on the top of the list.

  Two hours later she was headed back toward Granford, but on a whim turned off on the road toward the cemetery. No one was following her, and she was going to stay alert, just in case. The last snow had more or less melted, except where it had been piled deep, and if there was more coming, she didn’t know when she’d have another chance to locate Violet Morgan, née Cox. Maybe it was a bit odd to stop by and visit someone who had died more than a century earlier, but Meg thought it was only right to introduce herself if she was digging up all of Violet’s dark secrets.

 
; Once again, there was no other car in sight on the road by the cemetery. Meg pulled as far over as the surviving snow piles would permit, climbed out of the car, and headed for the central gate. John had been right about winter visitors: even now Meg could see new flowers—garish plastic ones—on some of the newer graves. People did stop by regardless of weather. That made her feel a little better. After all, Violet was a relative of a sort, and Meg was here to remember her. She picked her way through the rows, looking for stones in the style popular in the midnineteenth century: not the old slate slabs, but more likely white marble.

  Gail had said there were a few Morgans in Granford, and Meg wondered what the odds were that she’d find any of them. She wandered aimlessly for a bit, and almost cheered out loud when she finally spied a tall stone for Abiel Morgan, and directly under his name, “Violet C. Morgan, beloved wife.” It was too cold and damp to sit on the ground, so Meg leaned cautiously against a tombstone in the next row. “Hello, Violet.”

  The wind whistled through the trees bordering the far side of the cemetery, and a raucous crow took flight. Otherwise, silence.

  Meg was glad not to have an audience. “I found your sampler. It’s lovely—you did nice work. I don’t know how it stayed hidden for so long, but I’m glad to have it. I live in the house you once did, with your Uncle Eli.” Meg looked around, at the other, later tombstones flanking Abiel’s central one: more Taylors. “Looks like some of your kids stayed around—that must have been nice for you, to have close family nearby.”

  The wind was picking up, and while it might not have been below freezing, the dampness made it chilling. Time to wrap this up. “Well, Violet, I’ll be back again, I’m sure—in better weather. It was nice to meet you.”

  Meg retraced her steps to the main path, and then decided to make a small detour and say hello to Lula and Nettie Warren, the sisters her mother had inherited the house from, at the far end of the newer section. When she reached them, Meg said, “Hi, ladies. You know, if you’d been taller, you would have found a nice surprise in one of your closets. Well, I just wanted to say hello, and let you know that the house is looking good.”