Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery)

by Sheila Connolly

“Let me get this straight,” Art said, his tone sharper than before. “Last Friday you saw Jeffrey Green and another boy arguing on the green in town, and there was a girl in the mix. Novaro Miller was killed later that same day, and it was Jeffrey Green who found him.”

  Meg felt like a fool. “Yes. I’m sorry, Art. I did tell you about it on Monday.”

  Art sighed again. “You did. And I didn’t see the connection either, and then I got distracted by another police call. You got any more bombshells for me?”

  “I’m afraid so, Art,” Seth said reluctantly. “We talked to one of Jeffrey’s teachers at the high school, and he said he thinks Jeffrey was seeing Emma Stebbins.”

  Art stared at him. “Oh, crap. When did you hear this?”

  “Just this afternoon. And, no, I don’t know anything more, and we haven’t asked Jeffrey about it.”

  “Where’s Jeffrey now?”

  “He and his father are staying at my place up the hill. Want me to call ahead?”

  “No, I want to go over there and talk to them.” Art morphed into his official role as police chief. “Will you all promise not to attempt to contact Jeffrey Green or his father before I get there and talk to them?”

  “Of course, Art,” Seth answered. “We know what’s at stake. Do what you have to do.”

  “Thanks.” Art left without any pleasantries.

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said, to no one in particular. What had Jeffrey really done?

  They hadn’t heard from Art by the time they went to bed.

  25

  “Today’s Friday, you know,” Seth said at breakfast the next morning.

  “Why does this matter?” Meg asked, watching her toast so it wouldn’t burn.

  “The Harvest Festival is tomorrow.”

  “Oh, damn and blast. I signed up for a booth, didn’t I? And I haven’t done anything about it beyond asking Raynard to set aside some nice apples, but things have been so topsy-turvy that he may not have remembered. I should have some old baskets somewhere; I’ll need to dig them out. Then I have to find booth decorations and bags and, oh yes, apples to fill them with. Shoot, I’ll also need some small bills to make change, if I’m selling apples. And a scale would be nice—”

  Seth interrupted her. “Take a breath, will you? I’ve got a vintage hanging scale you can borrow—it’ll look good. You’ll have to be there at your booth from ten to three, so you’d better remind Bree. Either that or tell her to take a shift at the booth.”

  “Why are you so organized this early in the morning?” Meg asked him.

  “It’s in the genes, I think.”

  “Is Gail still planning a big display for the Historical Society?”

  “Last I heard. It’s not quite as dramatic as it was a few days ago, now that the building has been lowered onto the new foundation, but there are plenty of pictures documenting every step of it. I think she said something about a computer slideshow.”

  “I’m glad that project is working out,” Meg said. She stood up. “I’d better get moving. I’ve got to go pick another million or so apples.”

  Meg was putting on her work sweatshirt when her phone rang. She cast a worried glance toward Seth. “It’s never good news when the phone rings this early, is it?” she said anxiously.

  “Want me to answer?” Seth asked.

  “No, it’s my phone.” She took a deep breath and answered. “Hello?”

  “Meg? It’s Art. You and Seth had better get your butts to the police station—Jeffrey Green just walked in and confessed to killing Novaro Miller.”

  “What? No! Didn’t you talk to him just last night?”

  “I did. This morning he said he’d had all night to think about it and decided to come clean.”

  “Is Sam there?”

  “Not yet. I called him, since Jeffrey kind of slipped out under his nose.”

  “Are you going to tell Marcus?”

  “Not until I’ve heard what Jeffrey has to say. You coming?”

  “We’ll be there in ten.” She hung up, then turned to face Seth. “Jeffrey just confessed to the killing, and he’s with Art at the police station in town right now.”

  Seth stood up quickly. “Oh, crap. Why would he do that?”

  “You mean you don’t think he did it?”

  “No, I don’t. So why would he say he did?”

  They stared at each other for a moment. “Because he’s protecting someone else?” Meg said softly. “Like Emma Stebbins, maybe?”

  Bree stood up quickly. “You don’t need me for this, so I’m going up to the orchard. I won’t mention anything to Raynard and the guys until you figure out what really happened.” She grabbed a jacket and left. But no sooner had she opened the door than a truck rolled into Meg’s driveway and Meg found herself staring at Jake Stebbins and a young girl who had to be his daughter, Emma. “Where the hell is Jeffrey Green?” Jake demanded. “He’s not at home and he’s not answering his cell. I gotta talk to him right now.”

  Seth came up beside Meg. “Jake, calm down. What do you want with him, in such a hurry? And why do you think he’d be here?”

  “He told Emma he was staying at your house. And then he said that he was going to turn himself in for killing that kid at the feed store.”

  “I can’t let him do that!” Emma wailed. “He didn’t do it. I did!”

  “Emma, don’t say that!” Jake yelled.

  She turned to her father. “Why not? It’s the truth. Jeffrey was just trying to help me.”

  “Whoa, everybody,” Seth said firmly. “First, Jeffrey and his father are at the police station in town—he just turned himself in. We all want to hear what really happened, but I think we should head over there and sort this out together. Jake, you take Emma with you. Meg and I will follow.”

  For a long moment it looked as though Jake would protest, but in the end he just nodded. “Come on, Emma, let’s go.”

  Watching them leave, Meg said, “A damsel in distress indeed. Rachel was right. We’d better get over there before these kids dig themselves in any deeper.”

  “I’ll drive,” Seth said.

  The ride to the police station took no more than ten minutes. “Do you have any idea what the legalities are here?” Meg asked Seth.

  “Nope. I suppose we should turn the whole mess over to the state police and let them sort things out.”

  “You can’t want to do that!” Meg protested.

  “Not until I hear what they have to say. Not that I have any right to put off telling Marcus, but I have the feeling they’ll be more willing to be open in a less scary setting, and our station is friendlier than the one in Northampton.”

  “Amen to that,” Meg said.

  When they walked into the police station, the receptionist smiled. “The party’s in the conference room. Go on back.” Meg and Seth knew the way. Inside the room, Art had taken the head of the table, with a view of the door. On one side stood Sam and Jeffrey; on the other, Jake and Emma. It seemed as though everyone was talking at once, although they hadn’t reached the point of yelling—yet. Art smiled grimly at Meg and Seth.

  “Everybody, just shut up, will you?” Art said loudly. Surprisingly, everyone did. “Looks like we’re all here—unless you want to call Karen, Sam?”

  “No!” Jeffrey and Sam said in unison.

  “All right, then. This is not a formal interrogation. You are not being recorded. I may get into hot water with the state police down the line for doing things this way, but it seems best for me to know what the story is before I hand anyone over to them. Or should I say, which the story is? Who wants to start?”

  “Let me,” Jeffrey said, his eyes on Art. When Sam reached out to lay a hand on his arm, he shook it off without looking at him. “Last Friday evening, I stopped by the feed store to pick up an order, like I said. This guy Novaro was there,
and I thought he looked suspicious—I mean, he had no reason to be there—so I asked him what he was doing and he kind of came at me. We fought, he hit his head, and he went down. You know the rest of it.”

  “Jeffrey—” Emma protested. Art silenced her with a look.

  “Why didn’t you come forward with that story from the beginning, or tell someone at any time since?” Art asked, not unkindly.

  “I got scared, I guess. I mean, at first I didn’t know if he was dead or what. I never meant to hurt him, but he came at me first and I just defended myself. And after that it kept getting more and more complicated. I was wrong, sir—I should have spoken up at the start. But I’m here now.”

  “He’s lying!” Emma burst out.

  “Emma!” Jeffrey cautioned her.

  Emma ignored him. “No, Jeffrey, I’m not going to let you do this. I know you’re trying to help, but it’s not right.”

  Meg looked at Emma’s father, who appeared baffled by the whole thing. “Emma, maybe we should talk to a lawyer before you say anything,” Jake said tentatively.

  “No, Daddy. This has to be done now. I can’t stand it anymore, and I won’t let Jeffrey ruin his life over me.”

  “Okay, everybody, listen up,” Art said. “Sit down. Anybody want coffee? Soft drinks? Because I think this is going to take a little time.”

  Meg was glad for the break, because the atmosphere in the room was intense. Sam and Jeffrey were engaged in a muttered argument in one corner, heads together, voices low. Emma remained seated at the table, her arms wrapped around her, while Jake looked helplessly on. Art stuck his head out and told someone to bring in coffee and sodas, and Meg seized the chance to talk to him.

  “Did this all come out last night?” she said quietly.

  “Nope, none of it. Jeffrey stuck to his first story. How’d those two”—Art nodded toward Emma and Jake—“end up here?”

  “They came by my house looking for Jeffrey. I gather he got in touch with Emma after you talked to him. And I get the impression that all of this is news to Jake.”

  “Maybe,” Art said noncommittally. “I want to hear the girl’s story.”

  When they were all settled again, with drinks, and apparently calmer, Art said, “Emma, tell us what happened. Take your time.”

  Emma managed a small smile. “I guess I kind of have to go back to the beginning.” She looked sternly at Jeffrey. “Please don’t interrupt me—just let me tell this my way, all right? You, too, Daddy. Please?”

  Jeffrey nodded reluctantly, and a moment later, so did Jake Stebbins.

  Emma turned back to Art. “Jeffrey and I have been kind of seeing each other for a while now. I think Jeffrey’s mom made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want him getting serious with anybody around here, so we kept it quiet.” She turned to her father. “Sorry, Daddy, but there didn’t seem to be any way to tell you, either. I didn’t know what you’d think, and I was afraid you’d go all protective on me, or tell me to stop. Not that there’s been much to stop, really.”

  “Emma—” Jake started to protest, clearly distressed, but Emma held up one hand to silence him.

  “You’re a year behind Jeffrey at school?” Meg asked. “So you’re a junior?”

  Emma nodded. “We sort of got together over the summer. I mean, mostly we hung out, or went to Amherst or Northampton, once Jeffrey got his car. I don’t have a lot of free time anyway, between school and helping my dad out at the store. I don’t mind, really—I want to help, and I’m glad to do my part with the business.”

  “Emma, what’s this got to do with what happened to Novaro Miller? Did you know him?” Art said gently.

  “I’m getting to that, Mr. Preston.” Emma picked up her story. “Novaro didn’t go to the high school, I’m sure you know by now. But like I said, I work in Dad’s store after school, and some weekends. One afternoon this guy came in, looking for Dad, wanting to know if we were hiring part-timers. I told him I didn’t think so, since I am pretty much the part-time staff, except for a few other guys who work now and then. We kind of got to talking—you know, just killing time. The store wasn’t busy. He told me his name was Novaro and that he was from Jamaica and had come over with the pickers, which I could totally tell from his accent. He said he’d come with his uncle, but all the guys his uncle knew were old and boring. He seemed nice, and kind of lonely—he didn’t seem to know many people his own age around here. That was it. We just talked for a bit and then he left, and I didn’t think anything about it after that.”

  Emma stopped to take a swallow of her drink. “Then he started dropping by the store when he knew I would be there. After a while I began to wonder if he was watching to make sure my dad wasn’t around, like checking to see if Dad’s car was parked there or not. It felt kind of creepy, but I didn’t see what I could do.”

  “You could have told me,” Jeffrey muttered, not looking at anyone.

  “Did you tell your father?” Art asked.

  “I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t think it was that big a deal. But he kept coming by. I figured Novaro would get bored or find another girl to bug, and besides, by then I was back in school. Then I came out after school the first week and there he was, waiting for me in his crappy old car. I think he thought it was, like, romantic or something, but it just kind of creeped me out, even though he didn’t try anything. He offered me a ride home or to the store or wherever I wanted to go. I said no, and he left. But then he was there the next day, and the day after. Finally I just said yes, and told him to drop me off at the store. Okay, maybe that was stupid, but all the other Jamaicans around here are really nice guys, so I wasn’t worried. He dropped me off like I asked, then he left, so I thought things would be okay. But I didn’t want it to be an everyday thing, because then he might get the idea that we were together. Which I didn’t want. So a couple of times I asked Jeffrey to give me a ride instead. And Novaro probably saw us together.”

  “Like that day at the green?” Meg asked.

  “You saw us?” Emma looked surprised.

  “I recognized Jeffrey because I was expecting to see him,” Meg said. “I didn’t know you or Novaro, but it was pretty clear even from a distance that there was some sort of argument going on.”

  “Like Em said, I gave her a ride home or to work sometimes,” Jeffrey spoke for the first time since Emma had begun talking. “On Friday Novaro was waiting at the school and he followed us. I pulled in by the green because I wanted to show Em what the dig looked like, but then Novaro pulled up and got in my face. I guess he figured he had some claim on Emma.”

  “And I didn’t want it to be a big thing,” Emma chimed in, “so I said I’d go with Novaro.”

  “Did he take you to the store that day?” Art asked.

  “Yeah, he did, but then he left, or at least, I thought he did. Maybe he came back again—I was busy working.”

  “Your father didn’t see who dropped you off?” Seth asked.

  “No, he was in his office, not out front.”

  “I never noticed a damn thing,” Jake burst out. “She said a friend dropped her off at work after school, and I didn’t even pay attention.”

  “Jeffrey, you stayed at the dig site and worked with that archaeologist for the rest of the afternoon, right?” Art asked.

  “Yeah. We didn’t find anything as interesting as that skeleton, but Miranda showed us lots of good stuff about archaeological techniques. It was really cool.”

  “When did you leave?” Seth asked.

  “About six, six thirty, maybe? It was beginning to get dark, so she sent us all home, but first I had to pick up that stuff at the feed store for my mother. So I drove over there and parked in the back, where Jake said the bags would be. And that’s when I found Novaro. And Emma.”

  26

  “Jeffrey, you have to let me tell the next part, okay?” Emma said in a low voic
e. Jeffrey wavered, then slumped in his chair. “It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled to Emma.

  “I know, Jeffrey, but it happened.” Emma turned to the adults. “Look, here’s the real story. Novaro dropped me off at the store, like I said. He left. I worked for a couple of hours, and then Dad said he was heading home and did I want him to fix dinner? Which for him usually means picking up a pizza. I said fine, because I needed to finish restocking some of the shelves. I said I’d let him know if I wanted him to pick me up, but when the weather’s nice it’s easy to walk home—it’s not far, just over the hill. So then Dad left.”

  “And Novaro came back?” Art asked.

  “Yeah, around six. He knew we were closed, but I guess he knew I was still in there. He was pounding on the door, so I let him in.”

  “Why?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t think there’d be a problem. He’d been pretty easygoing up until then, at least until he got into it with Jeffrey earlier that afternoon. Maybe it was a dumb move, but anyway, I opened the door. All the lights were still on, and I had my cell, so I guess I wasn’t worried. At least, not until he came in and I could tell he’d been drinking. I could smell it on him.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He seemed pissed off at me. I think he’d been stewing about my being with Jeffrey earlier. He started asking stuff like, wasn’t he good enough for me? Was it because he was black? Or not American? I told him that didn’t matter to me, but that I already had a boyfriend. Then he started making fun of Jeffrey—you know, wimpy white boy with a fancy car.”

  “And he got physical?” Meg asked.

  “Yeah.” Emma looked away; she had tears in her eyes. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting it. He hadn’t touched me before, but I think he really thought I owed him something. He didn’t exactly stop to explain, you know—he just came at me and then he was all over me. I kept yelling at him to stop but he backed me up against some shelves, toward the back of the store, where we couldn’t be seen from the street, and . . .” She paused and swallowed before going on, “He wouldn’t stop, so I shoved him. He fell backward and hit his head hard on one of those heavy metal shelves, and then he just . . . lay there.”