Sour Apples

by Sheila Connolly

  Seth shrugged. “I don’t know. You know he doesn’t like outside interference.”

  Meg did know, all too well—that was why she and Marcus had gotten off to a rather rocky start, although things had improved since. She decided to tackle the other issue that had been bothering her more and more, head-on. “Seth, why don’t you like Rick? You’ve been dancing around this from the beginning. I can understand being discreet, but don’t you think it’s time to share? Please don’t tell me it’s not my business. This is me, remember? Talk to me!”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Yes!”

  Seth pushed his chair away from the table and sat back. “Rick Sainsbury was the star quarterback on the football team, a senior during my first year on the JV team, and you can imagine how little contact we had, but the team was pretty good overall—went to the state finals.”

  “Sounds as though Rick wouldn’t have known who you were, if you were a lowly freshman,” Meg commented.

  “He didn’t, but I knew who he was. The varsity team, particularly the seniors, were like gods to us. We were honored if they even nodded to us in the hallway. The football team was a big deal in high school, particularly when they were winning and the town didn’t have a lot else to be proud of. So we all kind of looked up to the guys on the team, and by and large they were good guys.”

  “So why the hostility?” Meg said, mystified. “You’re saying Rick wasn’t a good guy?”

  Seth sighed and ignored her question. “The quarterback was the top of the heap. But Rick played it to the hilt and took advantage of people. He used his position as a football hero to slide through his classes—not that he was dumb, but he always took the easy way out, and the teachers let him, more often than not. There were plenty of kids who were happy to do his homework for him, or the research for his papers. Look, I know all this seems really petty, and I wouldn’t make too much of it.”

  “But?” Meg prompted. To set Seth off like this, there had to be more.

  “The final straw for me was during one of the last games of the year. We had the conference championship locked up, so it didn’t matter whether we won or lost that game. Not that anyone expected us to lose, and we were ahead like twenty points in the third quarter. And then Rick made a tackle that really laid a guy out. Okay, that happens. But Rick was the quarterback, so it wasn’t really his job. What made it worse was what happened when the guy was already on the ground and the play was over.”

  “What did he do?” Meg prompted.

  “Rick hit him, just to be sure he stayed down. Not once, but a couple of times—really vicious hits. The other guy ended up with a couple of broken ribs and a punctured lung. Either the refs never saw it, because Rick was surrounded by his loyal teammates, or if they did, nobody said a word.”

  “Was this kind of behavior a pattern or a one-time thing?”

  “I was beginning to wonder if I had really seen it, but I ran into Rick in the locker room the week after and I said something like, ‘Hey, you really nailed that guy on the field,’ just to see what he’d say, and he looked me in the eye and said, ‘That’s how you stop them and win—remember that.’”

  “So you’re saying that it was deliberate and he didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d done. And that he knew that you knew. Okay, but still, that was a long time ago. Why is he courting you now?”

  Seth drained his coffee mug. “I don’t know. That was the last conversation I had with Rick Sainsbury until the Spring Fling last week. Maybe he’s changed just enough that he now realizes why it would look bad, and wants to keep tabs on me, to make sure I don’t go spreading that story around. Or maybe he’s forgotten about the whole episode and thinks I can do him some good politically.”

  Both good possibilities, Meg thought. “He didn’t stick around Granford after high school?”

  “No, he got a football scholarship to a Big Ten school and never looked back. But I know he didn’t play football long. You’ve seen him—he’s not big enough to make it in the pros. After college he got an MBA, I heard, and then he took over his father’s company. You already know most of this.”

  Meg thought for a moment. “So what you’re saying is, based on what you saw of Rick Sainsbury in high school, you think that he plays dirty?”

  “He did then. I don’t know the man now, and that’s why I haven’t wanted to say anything. And I know Mom respected his father, which is another reason I’ve kept quiet. Rick may have changed. I mean, high school wasn’t the best time for a lot of us, and most people had a few rough edges that needed to be knocked off. But there’s something else that’s bothering me now…” Seth stopped.

  “What?”

  “He’s brought in several of the guys he played football with back then, to work on the campaign. You saw them in that newspaper article the other day.”

  Meg stood up and went to the stack of papers to be recycled, waiting by the door to the shed. A couple of layers down she pulled out the issue that Seth had seen, and tossed the paper onto the table. “That’s the group you mean?”

  “That’s them.”

  Getting Seth to say anything negative about anyone was like pulling teeth, Meg thought. He’d probably say that Jack the Ripper had unresolved anger-management issues. “Why does that matter?”

  Seth sat back in his chair and absently rubbed Max’s head. “Obviously you never played high school football. The seniors and some of the juniors on that team were tight. Rick was the hero, the leader, and these other guys were his adoring slaves.”

  “And what, Seth? Did they lead a reign of terror at the high school? Torture the nerds? Sexually harass the cheerleaders? What were they guilty of?”

  Seth sat forward again, leaning his forearms on the table. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it. High school is such a difficult time for a lot of people, and our judgment is not the best then. For the record, I never had a problem with these guys. Maybe I was exempt because I was a decent football player. And maybe I was jealous. I mean, these guys radiated this sense of entitlement, like they ruled the world and knew it. Which meant they thought they could get away with anything, and sometimes they did. The bottom line is, back then they would have done anything to protect and impress Rick. I’m afraid that might still be true.”

  Meg remembered her own high school days: she’d been all but invisible, but she’d been aware of the Golden Girls, the cheerleaders who were popular and even smart. They’d always seemed to shine so bright, a little larger than life. But she’d been clueless about how the male side of things operated. “Okay, I’ll accept that your perspective may be biased by your youth and everyone’s general hormonal excesses. That said, where is the problem now?”

  “Because from what little I’ve heard, these other guys—Cook, DuPont, Ferriter, Dressel—they’re kind of thugs now. I haven’t exactly followed their careers, but I’ve seen some of their names pop up on arrest reports in the local paper. Minor stuff, but it adds up. Rick’s the only one who’s done well for himself. The others never got far from Granford. So when their former hero calls and says, ‘Hey, come join me,’ they jump.”

  Meg began to understand where he was going with this. “And you think they’d still be willing to do almost anything for him all these years later?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Seth, how did this get so messed up?”

  “I wish I knew. Joyce came to me with a legitimate complaint—otherwise I might not have known anything about that, and neither would anyone else. But since I did know about her concerns, I got sucked into the investigation and pulled you in, too. I’m sorry, Meg.”

  “For what? Joyce visited your place of business. And my friend—or maybe ex-friend—Lauren happens to be working for Rick Sainsbury, who may or may not be connected. Pure coincidence. I’m involved through no fault of yours. Stop taking on responsibility for everything, will you?”

  Seth smiled. “You sound like my mother. She said something like th
at when I tried to apologize to her. She said she and my father had been involved with the Sainsburys since I was a kid and that it had nothing to do with me. And then she sent me over here to make it right with you.”

  “Smart woman, Lydia. I like her.”

  “And she likes you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. So now what?” Meg asked.

  Bree came bustling in from the barn. “Michael called and says he wants to see this indie movie in Amherst, so I said I’d tag along. Don’t wait up, you guys.” Before Meg could respond, Bree was out the door again.

  “There’s one more thing I should apologize for,” Seth began again when Bree was gone.

  “What, there’s anything left?”

  “I should have told you from the beginning why I don’t like Rick. I guess in part it was out of respect for my mother’s opinion of the family.”

  “I wish you had shared, but that’s water under the bridge. We don’t know for a fact that he has any knowledge or involvement in any of this. I can tell you that the man rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I laid eyes on him. Although it does sound like he has leadership abilities and brains, he’s still too obviously a politician. But where would murder fit?”

  “Good question,” Seth said. “That sense of entitlement again? ‘I want this and somebody’s in my way, so I’ll just get rid of that person’?”

  “That’s pretty cold, don’t you think?” Meg responded. “You think he’d stop at nothing to get his way?”

  “Maybe. I guess I was hoping that Lauren would be an ally, but that sounds unlikely.”

  “Sure does. Not that I can blame her. I mean, I see her for the first time in months, and then I accuse her new boss of being involved in a murder? I just hope when she takes the time to think about it, she’ll see where I was coming from. I really am trying to help.”

  “I know,” Seth said.

  Meg stood up to clear the table, carrying the dishes to the sink. Seth came up behind her and kissed her neck. “I’ve missed you. I know we’ve seen each other every day, but we’ve both been busy. That’s a lousy excuse.” His arms tightened around her.

  Meg pivoted to face him. “It’s not easy, is it? Trying to find time for ‘us’?” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him, a kiss that spun out, driving out anything resembling coherent thought.

  Until the doorbell rang.

  Seth muttered a curse. “Can you ignore it?”

  Meg shook her head. “It’s the front door. Nobody ever comes to the front door, so it could be important. I’d better check. But mark our place, will you?” Reluctantly she peeled away from him and headed for the front door.

  She was surprised when she opened it to see Lauren. But even more surprised that right behind her stood Rick Sainsbury.

  24

  While Meg gaped, Lauren said, “May we come in?”

  “Uh, sure. Please.” Meg stepped back, and Lauren and Rick walked into the hallway.

  “I apologize for barging in on you like this,” Rick said, quickly taking the lead. “It was my idea. Lauren told me that you had said some distressing things to her, and I wanted to set the record straight.” He smiled, a tame version of his official smile.

  Meg didn’t trust him an inch. “Of course,” she said. “Why don’t we sit in the living room?” She refused to play hostess and offer them anything until she had heard what he had to say.

  Rick led the way, which further annoyed Meg—after all, it was her house. “Meg, I thought it was important to clear things up now.” He stopped abruptly, and Meg realized that Seth was standing in the doorway between the dining room and living room. “Chapin,” Rick said, his tone carefully neutral.

  “Sainsbury,” Seth replied in the same tone, and Meg had to stifle an inappropriate giggle. Men.

  “Please, sit down, all of you,” Meg said. She was mildly surprised when they complied—had she expected Seth and Rick to circle each other like wrestlers? She glanced quickly around to assess the situation: Lauren looked uncertain, Rick looked self-assured, Seth looked cautious. “What was it you wanted to say, Rick?”

  “My good right hand Lauren, here”—he turned to smile at her, and she nodded—“tells me that she had a disturbing conversation with you this morning,” Rick began.

  As Meg had feared, Lauren had run straight to her boss and tattled; she had chosen to side with Rick rather than with Meg. So much for friendship, Meg thought.

  Rick continued. “She told me that you believed that my campaign was somehow associated with the unfortunate death of a Granford citizen. I’d like to know what I can do to persuade you that that’s not true.”

  “How much do you know about the murder?” Meg asked, emphasizing the last word.

  “Why don’t you spell it out for me?” he countered.

  Meg glanced at Seth, who gave a small nod of encouragement. “A local dairy farmer named Joyce Truesdell died a week ago Saturday. On first glance, it looked as though she had been kicked in the head by one of her cows, and that’s how it was first reported. But after the autopsy, the ME concluded that she had been hit in the head by something other than a cow’s hoof.”

  Rick leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. “That’s very upsetting, but how is it that this connects to me?”

  Seth spoke for the first time, in a careful voice. “Joyce leased a property from the town of Granford to graze her cattle. When she let them out into the pasture this spring, they began getting sick, so she had their blood tested. The report showed high levels of lead. She came to me, a selectman for Granford, to tell me there was a problem and that she believed the problem was with the pasture. She said she had requested a soil test, although we don’t know if she’d received the results. When we heard that her death was not accidental, we had the soil tested independently, and it showed significant amounts of both lead and arsenic. I looked at the town’s records on that piece of land, and I found that the site had been a former paint factory, which was supposedly decontaminated about ten years ago. The work was done by your company, Pioneer Valley, at the request of the state Department of Environmental Protection.”

  “Ah, I see,” Rick said, and sat back in his chair, his expression giving nothing away. “So what are you suggesting?”

  “That Joyce’s cows were sickened because the cleanup work either was never carried out or was done badly, and that the all-clear reports given to the state and the town were falsified. And that if the knowledge that your company did shoddy work and then lied about it became public, it could hurt your political campaign.”

  Rick was silent for a moment, and Meg could almost see the wheels turning in his mind as he absorbed this information. He and Lauren exchanged a quick glance before he spoke. “So—what? You’re suggesting that I killed this woman to cover up something that I didn’t even know about?”

  “Or found someone else to do it,” Seth replied. The two men glared at each other.

  Lauren looked scared. “Rick, I told you this was ridiculous.” Rick didn’t answer her.

  Meg decided to cut through the testosterone cloud. “Let’s get the timeline straight. Rick, when did you start working for Pioneer Valley?”

  “In 1997, after I received my business degree. My father died in 2004, and that’s when I took over as head, although in reality I’d been carrying most of the weight for a while by then. How much do you know about Pioneer Valley Construction Management?”

  “Only what I’ve read online,” Meg said.

  “Lauren tells me that you have experience in the financial sector, Meg. Pioneer Valley is a large company, with multiple divisions. It employs over five hundred people. When I began there, my father wanted me to understand all aspects of the company, so I spent time working in several divisions. Still, there was no way I could have known the details of every project that we took on in those days. If you’re saying there was something suspicious about one particular project, I’d be happy to ask someone to review the records.”

  I
f they haven’t been mysteriously destroyed, or shredded by an overzealous employee, Meg thought. Would anyone ever see those records again? Stop it, Meg—at least give the man a hearing. “That’s an excellent idea,” she said. “I’m sure the lead investigator into the murder, Detective William Marcus of the state police, would be happy to have a copy. Just to clear up any doubt.”

  “You’ve conveyed your suspicions to the authorities?” he asked.

  “Yes, earlier today,” Seth said. “Marcus has copies of all of Granford’s documents pertaining to that piece of land, including the treatment reports.”

  Rick nodded, once. “Entirely appropriate. I will be happy to share whatever information we have with the appropriate authorities.” He looked at Lauren, who nodded. “Seth, didn’t your father work with mine on several occasions?”

  “That’s my understanding. I was occupied with other projects of my own at the time, and he didn’t share the details,” Seth replied stiffly. Meg found it interesting that Rick knew that much, yet he claimed he didn’t remember the remediation project—although if what they suspected was true, then somebody had made that connection. Was there a threat buried in there somewhere, directed at Seth? If you mess with my family, I’ll drag yours down, too?

  This oh-so-polite fencing match was getting them exactly nowhere, and Meg was losing patience. “Rick, why did you take time out of your very busy schedule to come here and talk to us about this? If it has nothing to do with you?”

  He focused his full attention on her. “Right to the heart of the matter, eh, Meg? Look, as I’m sure you’re aware, the slightest hint of scandal or wrongdoing can torpedo a campaign, whether or not there’s any basis in fact. Granford is my hometown, and I’d hate to see any slurs originate here, of all places. Surely you can understand that?”

  “Of course we are aware of that,” Meg said. “And we haven’t made a public accusation, nor would we, prematurely. But Joyce Truesdell was murdered—we can’t lose sight of that. You have to admit, you and your campaign have what could be viewed as a motive for silencing her.”