Seth returned with another man in tow. “Meg, this is Sam Green, Jeffrey’s father.”
Meg swiveled in her chair to take in the newcomer. The father who lived in Ohio? What was he doing here? He was nothing like what she had expected, after meeting Karen: he was tall and rangy, with an open face and a worried expression. She could see the resemblance to Jeffrey.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think you might be eating,” he said, contrite. “I can come back later . . .”
Meg summoned up a smile. “Hey, there’s plenty, and you’re here. Sit down and help yourself. Can we get you something to drink?”
“Is it too much to hope for cider?” Sam smiled, and his face lit up—definitely like Jeffrey, or at least the Jeffrey she’d met a few days ago, before the trouble started.
“Sure. It’s not from my orchard, but it is local. Seth, would you do the honors?”
Sam sat down, looking sheepish, and Meg introduced herself and Bree. “Didn’t Jeffrey say you lived in Ohio? Did he call you?”
The light in Sam’s face faded again. “Yes to Ohio, no to the call. Someone I know in town called to let me know what was going on. I started driving as soon as I heard, but it took me until now to get here.”
It must really hurt when your own son doesn’t reach out when he’s in trouble, Meg thought. “How did you end up at my house?”
Seth set a glass of cold cider in front of Sam, who drank down half of it at once, then inhaled a slice of pizza. “Sorry, I didn’t stop to eat,” he mumbled around a full mouth. “I started calling the house, and Karen’s cell, and then Jeffrey’s cell, before I left, and all I got was a ‘not in service’ message—I’m thinking maybe Karen changed them all recently. I went by the house when I arrived and there was nobody there. So I went into town and talked to someone at the police department, who sent me to you. And that’s the sum total of what I know. Do you have any clue where my son is?”
“I’m sorry, no. But he was here last night, with his mother and her brother, so I doubt they’ve gone far—I think they’re staying in Northampton. You know Rick is running for Congress?”
For a moment Meg wondered if Sam was going to choke on his pizza. “It doesn’t surprise me,” Sam said after he recovered. “He’s still a resident of this congressional district?”
“He is,” Seth said. “When our last congressman decided to retire, Rick kind of jumped on the opportunity.”
“Again, I’m not surprised. May I?” Sam gestured toward the remaining pieces of pizza.
“Please,” Meg said.
Bree stood up. “I’ll get out of your way—I know most of the story anyway.”
“Okay,” Meg said. “Same routine tomorrow?”
“Yup. Bright and early. Night, all.” She went up the back stairs to her room.
Sam sat back in his chair, looking marginally better after having inhaled some food. “Seth Chapin—didn’t your father have a plumbing business near here?”
“Right over the hill. He’s gone now, and I inherited it. My mother still lives in the house.”
Sam turned to Meg. “I remember this house, but not you.”
“I’ve lived here less than two years,” Meg said. “My mother inherited the house, but it was in the family for generations before that. I’ve been so busy trying to learn orchard management that I haven’t gotten involved in too many other things around here, which is probably why we’ve never met.”
“Got it. Okay, what the hell is going on here?”
Seth, with a few assists from Meg, outlined the events of the past week, starting with Jeffrey’s volunteering to help with the Historical Society excavation through the discovery of Novaro Miller’s body and the state of the investigation, or as much as they knew of it.
When they were done, Sam looked drained. Then he said, “I refuse to believe that my boy would hurt anyone, much less someone he doesn’t know.”
“We agree,” Meg said gently.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” Sam said firmly. Meg was relieved when her cell phone rang, giving her an excuse not to answer Sam. She didn’t recognize the number, but with all that was going on, she thought she should answer it. “Hello?”
“Meg? It’s Jeffrey.” He sounded young, and not very sure of his welcome.
“Jeffrey, where are you?”
“We’re staying at the hotel in Northampton with my uncle right now. Mom wanted to get out of the house—I think she expected nosy reporters to show up, not that I’ve seen any, but she was worried anyway. Listen, I really need to get out of here and talk to somebody. Can I come over?”
“Of course. Go ahead. I’ll be here.” Meg guessed his request was more about getting away from his family than talking to her, but she didn’t mind either way.
“I’ll be there in twenty. Thank you.” He hung up abruptly.
Meg looked up to see Sam staring at her. “You didn’t tell him I was here,” he said.
Meg looked at him levelly. “He’ll find out soon enough. I thought maybe Jeffrey wouldn’t come if he knew you were here, and he sounds like he really needs a friendly face right now. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing you—after all, he didn’t call you when all this happened, did he?”
Sam looked at the ceiling, clearly frustrated. “No. But he’s always had my cell number, and I always answer if he calls. I bet this is Karen’s doing—she’s done everything she could to turn Jeffrey against me. Or maybe he’s trying to prove he can handle this himself, without help.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to upset Karen by keeping in touch with you. You were the one who left, and she’s the one Jeffrey has to live with day to day.”
“I know, and I’m not proud of it. But I figured if I stayed with Karen, one of us would do something we’d regret, and that wouldn’t do Jeffrey any good. And he had only this last year of school left—if he’d gone with me he’d have been starting his senior year in a whole new place, with no friends.”
Meg refrained from saying that from what she’d seen, Jeffrey didn’t have a lot of friends in Granford, either. “When did you leave?”
“Spring sometime—I don’t remember the exact date. But I’ve been back a couple of times, to see Jeffrey. I guess I hoped that he could handle it, and that he’d escape when he went to college. That doesn’t reflect very well on me.”
“I know it’s not my business, but what happened between you and Karen? I understand you don’t know me, but I’m trying to figure out what’s best for your son.”
“We both are, Sam,” Seth added.
Sam faced Meg. “I can’t tell you because I don’t really know. You live with someone, you lose objectivity, and Karen and I spent close to twenty years together. If that person is smart, he or she can sound very convincing and make you doubt yourself. And, of course, they don’t believe there’s anything wrong with them—it’s everyone else who’s at fault. And nobody appreciates them. Karen doesn’t open up much. Since I’ve put some space between us, I think I’ve come to see her more clearly. She was demanding, self-centered, and unreasonable—and as we got older, she got madder.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me. I didn’t make enough money. The house wasn’t big enough. The local organizations didn’t make her head of everything. When we were younger I thought she was just ambitious. Once she passed forty, it looked more like frustration to me. But she never figured out how to fix it, so she took it out on me.”
“Not on Jeffrey?” Seth asked.
“Emotionally, maybe. I mean, if I was a disappointment to her, she was going to do everything she could to make sure Jeffrey didn’t repeat my mistakes, or whatever she thought they were. She expected him to get top grades and take part in every sport on the calendar, and then she was disappointed when he wasn’t made team captain in his junior year. I tried to tell her he just wasn’t
that into sports, but she didn’t want to hear it.”
“Sam, I know you haven’t seen much of him lately, but do you think Jeffrey’s okay?” Meg asked. “I mean, he’s under a lot of pressure—your leaving, finishing his last year of school, the whole college application thing, and trying to keep his mother happy. That’s a lot for any kid to deal with.”
“Are you suggesting that all that pressure would make him snap and take it out on some stranger?” Sam sounded angry.
Seth stood up, then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Sam, that’s not what Meg’s saying. I don’t see that kind of violence in him, not that I’m an expert. What I do see is a kid who’s dealing with a lot of stress, and it’s hard to say what outlets he’s got for it. It is possible that Jeffrey may have gotten mixed up in some things that somehow brought him into contact with Novaro, even if he wasn’t directly involved.”
“Like gangs or something? I’m not ready to believe that. But more important, what can I do to help him?” Sam asked simply.
Right question, Sam! Meg cheered silently. She was beginning to like the man—and she was looking forward to seeing him and Jeffrey together, which promised to be revealing.
She heard a car pull up, followed shortly by a knocking at the front door. “That should be Jeffrey. I’ll go get him.” Meg stood up and went to the front of the house, wondering what to say to the troubled young man, and whether she should warn him that his father was in the kitchen, assuming he hadn’t already recognized Sam’s car.
When she opened the door, her first reaction was that this was a boy who needed a hug, badly. The poor kid looked like he was trying hard to keep everything under control, but rapidly fraying around the edges. She settled for squeezing his shoulder. “Come on in, Jeffrey. Did you tell anyone you were coming?”
He walked into the hallway, shaking his head. “Nope. Uncle Rick and Mom were arguing—what else is new?—so I just left. But then I couldn’t figure out where to go. It’s not like I can go to some bar and sit in a corner and brood.”
Meg smiled. “No, you can’t, and you shouldn’t. I’m glad you came to us. Come on back—we’re in the kitchen.”
She led the way, then waited for father and son to greet each other. Sam stood up quickly and faced Jeffrey. Jeffrey stopped suddenly at the sight of him, and Meg could watch the play of expressions over his face. So much for self-control. It took only seconds before they were hugging—man-hugging, with lots of back-slapping and throaty rumbling. Meg felt tears starting, and glanced at Seth, who was smiling. She decided she definitely liked Sam.
After a few more moments, Meg thought it was time to move things forward. It was getting late, for all of them. She and Seth had work stacked up for the next day, Sam had just driven more than five hundred miles to get here and must be exhausted, and it was a school night for Jeffrey, although that seemed the least of anyone’s worries. “Sit down, everyone. Jeffrey, have you eaten?”
He shrugged, which she took as a no.
“Sorry all the pizza’s gone, but I can make you a sandwich.” When Jeffrey started to protest, Meg held up a hand. “Don’t say no. You’ll think better with some food in you. We can clear out and let you and your father talk, if you’d rather.”
“No, please stay,” Sam said, then turned to his son. “If that’s all right with you?”
“Yeah, sure. Thank you, Meg—I’d like a sandwich, if it’s no trouble.”
He’d lapsed back into polite mode, but at least he seemed calmer. “Coming up. Seth, get Jeffrey some cider, will you?”
While Meg was assembling a sandwich, she tried not to listen in on the conversation going on between father and son, although if it had been truly private they could have gone into another room or left altogether. As it was, mostly what she heard was normal catching up, with no discussion of the death yet. She set the sandwich on the table in front of Jeffrey and sat down, as did Seth.
“Sam, do you have a place to stay?” Seth asked.
Sam shook his head. “I hadn’t thought that far. I just started driving. I’ll find a motel.”
“You can stay at my place—it’s just up the hill, and no one’s there,” Seth said. “Well, my clothes are, and I stop by now and then.” He smiled at Meg.
“Can I stay there, too?” Jeffrey asked.
Sam looked simultaneously pleased and alarmed. “You’ll have to tell your mother,” he said. “You can’t just disappear on her.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said. “I wouldn’t do that. But she’s driving me nuts. And there are all these newspeople at the house. They wouldn’t know where to find me if I stayed at your place, Seth.”
“Why are there newspeople hanging around?” Sam asked, looking confused.
“Because Uncle Rick is running for Congress and there’s not much else going on in the world. Having a nephew suspected of murder is news. So they’re following him, and he’s trying to avoid them, and the whole thing is ridiculous.”
“What about school?” Meg asked.
“I don’t want to miss any school, if I don’t have to. The television people would have to leave me alone there.”
Meg wondered what kind of response he’d gotten from his peers at the school, but that was a question for another time.
“Then you can stay, too, as long as you tell your mother where you are,” Seth said.
“I’ll talk to Karen,” Sam said. “It’s not going to be pleasant, but she needs to know I’m here.”
“Dad!” Jeffrey protested. “I should talk to her.”
“Jeffrey, I think your mom needs to hear it from me. I don’t want her to think I’ve kidnapped you, or brainwashed you. I need to talk to her.”
Jeffrey’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. “Okay, go ahead.”
Sam stood up. “I’ll take care of it now. You have her new cell number, Jeffrey?”
Jeffrey pulled out his phone and called up Karen’s number, then showed it to his father. Sam stalked into the front parlor to make the call.
“Thank you for offering us your house, Seth,” Jeffrey said politely. He tried to ignore the sound of his father’s raised voice, audible from two rooms away, but it wasn’t working. “I’m sorry about . . .” He waved vaguely toward the front of the house. “And I’m sorry you got dragged into this whole mess. It’s not your problem.”
Seth looked down at the table and smiled. “Well, Meg tells me I am Granford, so that makes it my problem. But I’m glad your dad’s here for you.”
“Me, too,” Jeffrey said, and fell silent.
It was another two or three minutes before Sam came back. “She always manages to remind me why I left. Okay, Jeffrey my lad, we have your mother’s permission to bunk at Seth’s house. I doubt we could have achieved that much without the intervention of Uncle Rick, but he seems to have her under control, which is something. Do you need to stop by the hotel and get anything?”
“Will you write me a note for school and explain why my homework isn’t done?”
Sam stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Kid, you are something else. In the middle of a criminal investigation you’re worried about your assignments?”
“And don’t forget Scouts,” Jeffrey added, though Meg wondered if there was a sly gleam in his eye. Was he making fun of himself? If so, that was a good sign.
“Sure, why not? Anything else you want to throw in?” Having faced his ex-wife and won, Sam now seemed in a giddy mood. Or maybe his exhaustion was catching up with him.
Seth stood up. “Okay, guys—you go over and pick up whatever you need. I’ll go to my place and make sure there are sheets on the beds and towels and that kind of stuff. I’ll meet you back here and show you the way, all right?”
“But I want to hear the details of this murder business,” Sam said.
“Nothing’s going to change before tomorro
w morning,” Seth told him. “You all can join us for breakfast here and we’ll give you the outline and tell you what we know. Right now you need some rest, and a chance to talk to your son. Deal?”
Sam nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Jeffrey, you ready to go?”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll drive. It’ll be faster.” Jeffrey grinned. “Mom let me get a car, a used one, after you left. So I could get to school—and run errands for her.”
“Fine by me—I’ve had enough driving for one day. We’ll be back, Seth. Thanks for the food, Meg.”
Meg took them back to the front door and let them out, then returned to the kitchen. “Well, that was interesting. What do you think of Sam?”
“I like him a lot better than I do Karen, I can tell you that.”
“I agree. Poor Jeffrey, stuck between the two of them. I can understand why he decided to stay with his mother, but it can’t have been easy for him. I hope she’ll loosen the reins when it comes time for him to go to college.”
Seth stood up again, reluctantly. “Well, I’d better check those sheets, and Max needs a walk.”
“Can I come along?” Meg asked. “I love this time of day, or evening, or whatever it is.”
“Glad to have you. Come on, Max!”
Outside the sun was all but gone below the horizon, and there was a nip in the air. Meg was glad she’d thrown on a sweater before leaving.
“Do you think anyone at Jeffrey’s school would know anything?” she said, as she and Seth climbed the slight rise behind her house.
“About Novaro’s death? Are you thinking faculty or students?”
“Either. Seems like Jeffrey is the type who would be more likely to talk to a teacher than a buddy. If he has any buddies.”
“He does seem to be a loner. Maybe his Scoutmaster would have a handle on him?”
“Possibly. But how do we find a way to talk to those people? We’re not actually part of this investigation.”
“I can find out from Art if he has already. Beyond that, we just approach them—teachers, principal, Scoutmaster, whoever—as friends of Jeffrey’s, nothing more. We’re trying to help. If they say no, or they won’t speak to us, so be it. We will have tried.”
Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) Page 15