Golden Malicious

by Sheila Connolly

  As they started to stroll toward the waiting group, Meg asked, “What did Christopher tell you?”

  “He said he wanted a good test site for the dogs that the state is bringing in. This is Granford’s largest public park, plus a lot of it is wooded, so it seemed like a good place to start.”

  “What happens if they find something?” Meg asked.

  Seth shook his head. “I haven’t had time to find out. One step at a time, okay?” He watched as Christopher’s car pulled up near Meg’s, followed by a van with government license plates. The driver of the van and the passenger climbed out and came around to open the side door, and two dogs jumped down and started running in circles with their noses to the ground. As their handlers were gathering them up, yet another van appeared, disgorging several more people. The whole gathering looked incongruous in the middle of the near-empty park.

  Christopher was the last to get out, and he spoke with the others before approaching Meg and Seth. “Seth, these are the members of the State Plant Health Inspection team, and they’re here to perform a Level 1 survey of your town park.” He named them all, and then he introduced Seth. “This is Seth Chapin, a Granford selectman—he’s representing the town. Seth, we’ve already gone over Jonas Nash’s woodlot. Since he already allows access to the public, it wasn’t a problem.”

  “What did you find?” Seth asked.

  “We found evidence of a small infestation there,” one of the inspectors said directly to Seth. “That was the site where the first example was found, right?”

  “Yes,” Meg answered him. “I’m the one who found it there. I’m Meg Corey—I run an apple orchard a couple of miles from here.”

  “Good to meet you, Meg. Thank you for reporting it so promptly,” the lead inspector replied. “A lot of people wouldn’t have.”

  “I’m a farmer, so I have to pay attention to insects. When I found it, I . . . was a little distracted, but when I remembered the beetle again, I told Professor Ramsdell here, and we went back and retrieved it.”

  “We’re lucky you noticed it. We did find more insects there.”

  Poor Jonas, Meg thought. He couldn’t seem to catch a break.

  “What do you need to do here?” Seth asked.

  “Check out the trees, both in the wooded parts and those that are freestanding. Since it’s too early to tell where the initial infestation site is, we need to look at a broad area.”

  “The Nash property is a couple of miles away. Can the insects fly that far?”

  “They are capable of flight, but usually they’re brought in by way of firewood, or they hitch a ride on vehicles. Do you allow cooking fires in the park here?”

  “We do,” Seth said. “We hold various events here, which sometimes involve barbecues, and there are a limited number of camping sites.”

  “All possibilities for introduction of the insect,” the inspector said cheerfully. “Shall we get started? Let me introduce the dogs—we use shelter rescues and give them special training . . .”

  Meg dropped back to let Christopher and Seth listen to the scientist. After their first flurry of activity, the dogs had settled down to business, each managed by a handler. Seth led the group away from the highway, toward the wooded area at the back of the park. As Meg watched the people in front of her, she thought how odd it was that this group of federal and state officials, not to mention dogs, had gathered to hunt . . . insects. Or, as her reading had informed her, “foreign invaders,” bent on munching their way through tasty native trees. She looked around her: the trees looked reasonably healthy, under the circumstances, but she wouldn’t recognize an insect-damaged tree even if she fell over it. She did notice that the underbrush looked dry, but when the town was clamoring for so many other municipal services from a limited staff, brush-clearing probably landed at the bottom of the list. Did the fire department keep an eye on campers’ and partiers’ fires here? At least the fire department was close by, maybe a quarter mile down the highway.

  Meg continued to hang back, watching the dogs in action. Two of the humans aimed binoculars at the tops of trees, while a third recorded their comments and clicked what appeared to be a GPS unit—marking the location of each tree? The dog handlers, in contrast, were focused on the ground, and when one or the other dog nosed a patch of something, they made a note of that, then pointed out the tree to the binoculars people. They all spent more than an hour in the forested part, where at least there was some shade, then headed back toward the camping area, where the dogs appeared to find little that interested them. By the end of the second hour the group seemed ready to fold up their tents and leave. They conferred with Christopher, thanked Seth, made general “we’ll be in touch” noises, loaded up their vans, and pulled away.

  When Christopher, Seth, and Meg were alone again in the dusty parking lot, Seth asked Christopher, “What did they tell you?”

  Christopher looked concerned. “There is clear evidence of infestation here, which means that there are now at least three identified sites in Granford, and possibly more. They wouldn’t commit to the age or the extent because they wanted to go over their data first, but said they’ll get back to me. Since they have confirmed these sites, they will need to extend the perimeter of their search—they are required to examine all potential host trees within at least a half-mile radius of the initial find, and when they find more, a half-mile beyond the outermost find. There are more details, but that’s the short version.”

  “So we’re in the middle of it, right?” Seth said. “And this may spill over into other towns?”

  “That may already have happened. Beetles are not known for respecting human boundaries.”

  “That’s going to make Granford real popular,” Seth said, sounding depressed. “They have any clue how this started?”

  Christopher smiled ruefully. “They’re government employees. They aren’t about to guess until they have a lot more data. But it’s safe to say that the creature is here and it must be dealt with. I’m sorry if that increases your municipal burdens, Seth.”

  Seth shook his head. “Not your fault. That’s the way our luck’s been running for a while now. We just can’t seem to get ahead. You’ll let me know when they report back to you, Christopher?”

  “Of course. No doubt they’ll send you a copy of their report as well. Meg, I hope you enjoyed this little excursion?”

  “Uh, sure. I still wonder if things would have been better if I’d just kept my mouth shut.”

  “Ah, but you’re an essentially moral person, Meg, and you did the right thing. I need to get back to campus and see what I’ve missed. Nice to see you both, although I might wish the circumstances were more pleasant.”

  After Christopher had pulled away, raising yet more dust, Meg asked Seth, “What does this mean for Granford?”

  Seth shrugged. “I have no idea. I guess I’ve got some homework to do. You going home now?”

  “I guess. Bree tells me it’s my turn to cook. Want to join us?”

  “If it’s no trouble,” he answered.

  “At the moment, my plan is to light a fire and throw a chicken at it. I might tear up some lettuce. All I can see in my mind is a large pile of ice cubes. But we’ve got to eat.”

  “That we do. I’ll meet you there. Mind if I bring Max over?”

  “No problem. Think he’d make a good candidate for a bug-sniffer? Maybe you can rent him out.”

  “Max?” Seth raised one incredulous eyebrow.

  Meg laughed. “Sorry—what was I thinking? See you in a bit.”

  She went home and immediately jumped in the shower. Fifteen minutes later, half of it spent standing under the cool running water, Meg was back in the kitchen, wearing the lightest-weight cotton dress she owned and standing in front of the open refrigerator. Chicken—check. She should flatten it and marinate it a little before sending it out to the grill. At least six kinds of lettuce from the local farmer’s market, mainly because they were pretty, along with some small but color
ful peppers. A half-full container of crumbled feta cheese. That was salad—done. And there was plenty of ice cream for dessert.

  Why was the heat so exhausting? She and Bree weren’t doing anything more difficult than they had been doing earlier in the summer, but it seemed to be taking more out of them. Should she give in and indulge in another window unit air conditioner for the first floor? Where would she put it? As she had told Seth, she’d probably find an excuse to spend all her time in whatever room it landed in, leaving her apple trees—including the baby ones they’d planted with such high hopes only a couple of months earlier—to die a lingering and untimely death. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d just have to toughen up and keep hydrated, just like her trees.

  Seth rapped on the screen door shortly after six. “Hey,” he said, letting Max into the kitchen before him. Max promptly flopped onto the wooden floor, plastering as much of his belly against it as he could. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you. You look exhausted.” Meg smiled. “Come on in and get something cold to drink. I’ve started the grill, so the chicken’ll take maybe half an hour.”

  Seth rummaged in the refrigerator until he found a cold beer, then dropped into a chair. “Thanks. I’d probably be having cold cereal at home, except I’m out of milk.”

  Bree came into the room and knelt to greet Max, who grinned and slobbered at her but didn’t stand up. “Hey, Seth,” Bree said. “How’d your afternoon go? I haven’t heard the story from Meg yet.”

  “Granford has bugs—that’s the headline. Apparently the state inspectors have now found three local infestations of Asian longhorned beetle, and there may be more.”

  “So what’s that mean?” Bree said, grabbing a cold soda from the refrigerator.

  “I don’t know yet. More inspections, I’m pretty sure. I’d bet that somebody is going to want to cut down some trees, although I couldn’t tell you how many. Which means somebody else will protest. That’s the way it goes.”

  “And you’re supposed to keep it all in order, right?” Bree grinned at him. “You don’t even get paid for the job.”

  “I know. I’m just trying to do my civic duty, but there are days . . . Did Meg tell you about the bug-sniffing dogs?”

  “No! Where do they come in?”

  Meg left Seth to explain about the dogs while she dropped the marinated chicken on the grill and covered it, then stepped away as quickly as possible. The grill was hot. The air was hot. This had to end sometime, didn’t it?

  After dinner, Bree cleaned up the few dishes and disappeared to her room, which at least had a slight breeze. Seth seemed distracted, but Meg didn’t take it personally—she was having trouble focusing, too. “Want to go out and see if there’s some moving air out back?”

  They meandered outside and settled themselves on the Adirondack chairs overlooking the meadow. Meg reached out for Seth’s hand, and he took it; it seemed to be as much as they could do. They sat silently as darkness gathered.

  Meg heard the distant ring of her cell phone back inside but couldn’t summon up the energy to go answer it. She was surprised when Bree came out with it in her hand.

  “It’s Christopher—he says he needs to talk to Seth.” Bree thrust the phone at him.

  “Thanks.” Seth took the proffered phone. “Hey, Christopher, what’s up?”

  Meg watched as he listened, frowning and nodding. “Can it wait until morning? And is it okay if Meg sits in?” Another pause. “See you then.” Seth hung up.

  “What was that all about?” Meg asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Seth said slowly. “He said the inspectors found something odd and I need to know about it. He’s going to stop by here early. You can hear whatever he has to say, too.”

  “How early is early? Before we start watering?”

  “He said around eight. Does that work for you?”

  “I guess so. I wonder what on earth would be odd about an insect infestation. But I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. I’m going in—I’m wiped out.”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  18

  Christopher came rapping at the kitchen door a few minutes past eight the next morning. “Coffee?” Meg asked.

  “Please.”

  As Meg filled a mug for him, she said, “Seth’s out in his office, sorting out what he needs to do today, but I’m sure he heard your car arrive. He said you sounded very cryptic last night.”

  “It’s an odd situation. Good morning, Briona,” he said as Bree came down the back stairs.

  “Hi, Christopher. What’re you doing here? Did I miss something?” she said.

  “That phone call last night?” Meg prompted, handing Christopher a mug of coffee.

  “Oh yeah, right. I need coffee.”

  Meg could hear Seth whistling as he approached, plus the scratch of Max’s claws on the back steps. Seth’s mood had lifted a bit. Last night had been . . . nice. Easy.

  “Hey, Christopher,” Seth said as he walked into the kitchen. “What’s all the mystery about?”

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why the results arrived so quickly, and the inspectors were careful to say that this may be merely a coincidence, but what they found was that all the infestations are virtually identical.”

  “What does that mean?” Meg asked.

  “As you know, they looked at three sites in Granford—and they will be looking at more in the vicinity, as I explained yesterday—and it appears that all began at approximately the same time.”

  “How do they know that?” Seth said.

  “They located a central tree with the highest number of holes and other indicators—and the dogs agreed—and worked outward from there. They were able to establish a perimeter fairly quickly, at least on the first pass. It would appear that these infestations began no more than two years ago.”

  “Is that odd?” Meg asked.

  “Not the age of them. If they had first arrived in the summer two years ago, they wouldn’t have spread very far in the first year, but now they’ve moved demonstrably outward from the origin. What is unexpected is that all three sites conform to the same pattern. They’re not contiguous, so there is no reason they should align so closely.” Christopher looked at his audience as if waiting for a response.

  Meg’s brain seemed to be working slowly. “Why is that important? What are you saying?”

  “I’m still not sure. If these creatures all appeared at the same time, why in those separate locations? I can imagine that wood products move onto the sawmill site with some regularity, so that is a potential source there. Seth, you mentioned that people bring firewood onto the park site. However, the logging site is more isolated, and if anyone wished to build a fire there, there would be plenty of material available on the ground—why carry it in? It seems highly unlikely that infestations at all three sites would have sprung up at the same point in time. The first and perhaps most logical conclusion is that these sites were created artificially. That is to say, someone planted the original insects, then sat back and waited for them to spread, which they did.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Seth demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Christopher said simply. “I can think of no reason. What I do know is that the inspectors, who will be returning to the area today, are inclined to suspect a human perpetrator who is manufacturing this situation.”

  “Are you saying someone just picked up a bunch of the insects and dropped them in the woods around here?” Meg asked. “But why? Who the heck benefits?”

  “It’s not clear,” Christopher replied. “To tell the truth, I’ve never heard of any such incident, nor have my colleagues. It’s not even clear that there is any criminal act associated with this. I can tell you that there are hefty fines associated with transporting insects out of a quarantined area, if someone removed them from another location, such as the Worcester area, to bring them here. Look, Meg, Seth, I’ve told you what little I know. There will be more information coming in over the next few da
ys. There is no action that you need to take right now. And even if this does prove to be a deliberate act of mischief or vandalism or whatever you choose to call it, the outcome will be the same: your town and Jonas Nash will still lose some trees. The protocols must be followed, once the problem has been publicly recognized.”

  “Of course,” Seth said absently, working through the ramifications. “Thanks for letting me know, Christopher.”

  Christopher stood up. “Having delivered my doom-and-gloom pronouncement, I must get to my office. I’ll forward any information that comes to me. I hope this doesn’t ruin your day. Give my regards to your lovely mother, Seth. I’ll see myself out.”

  When he was gone, Seth, Bree, and Meg remained seated at the table. “Is this weird or what?” Bree asked.

  “Definitely weird,” Seth agreed. “Is somebody just messing with us? It sounds pretty easy to do: take one forest, add beetles, and wait. Maybe it’s some new kind of domestic terrorism.”

  “Please, let’s not jump to a conclusion like that!” Meg protested. “Nobody’s brought that up with Worcester.”

  “That’s because in Worcester they’ve got a pretty good idea how it started,” Bree said. “Imported wooden packing materials. Seth, has the town bought any park benches or picnic tables from foreign sources?”

  Seth shook his head. “We haven’t replaced anything in the park in the last two years, as far as I can remember, and even when we do, I usually farm out the work to local guys, and they use local wood. And that wouldn’t explain the infestation on Nash’s sawmill property, anyway.”

  In her mind Meg went back to the location where she’d first seen the insect. A dead adult insect. Near a dead adult logger. An awful thought started brewing. “Seth, what if David Clapp died because of this? Maybe he stumbled over someone trying to leave bugs behind, and that’s why I saw the one I did. Or maybe he was the one who was planting them and somebody caught him in the act.” Someone like Jonas Nash? She hesitated to bring up Jonas directly since she knew he was Seth’s friend.