“What do you know about her personal life?”
Phillip gave a brief laugh. “Surely you know that a prospective employer is not permitted to ask that sort of question?”
Meg nodded impatiently. “Sure, but you’ve been working with her for a year now, right? Don’t you ever talk about things unrelated to the law and the office? Is she married? Does she have kids? Where does she live?”
“Meg, I think you’re overreacting about this. Don’t you agree, Seth?”
“Humor her, Phillip,” Seth told him. “This will go more quickly if you do.”
Seth’s comment irked her—it sounded condescending, which was unlike him.
“Daddy, do you agree the photograph in the yearbook looks like Miriam?”
“Perhaps, but it’s an older photo and the girl Miriam Caffarelli was much younger then.”
“And the coincidence of the surnames?”
“I haven’t ruled out the possibility. But what does it matter?”
“Daddy, you’re saying you don’t know about husband or kids?”
Phillip took a deep breath to compose himself. “I have no information about either. Miriam has never made nor received many personal phone calls at the office, nor has she asked for time off unexpectedly, which I would anticipate if she had young children at home or at day care. But I have not asked about her interests outside of work. We have discussed the legal classes she has taken. But that has been the full extent of our personal interaction. She has been an exemplary employee.”
“She knew you’d be attending my wedding?”
“Of course she did. Arthur and I discussed it, and we saw no reason why Miriam couldn’t take the time off while we were gone—with pay. She had vacation time coming to her, in any case. We have always tried to be fair employers. And this is perhaps our slowest time of year, just before the holidays.”
“Did Miriam have any issues with Arthur?”
“Meg, you have no idea how silly a question that is. Arthur is a very kind man, although he does have a mind like a steel trap when it comes to legal issues. He gets along with everyone, especially Miriam.”
“This isn’t helping,” Meg said, almost to herself. “Any noteworthy or controversial cases that you’re working on now?”
Phillip sighed. “Arthur and I opened this firm so we wouldn’t have to deal with that kind of case. Our client base is stable. We don’t make an extraordinary amount of money, but we’re comfortable. I hate to burst your balloon, but everything has been going just fine.”
“Do you mind if I talk to Miriam?”
Phillip cocked his head at her. “I probably can’t stop you, can I? Today is presumably her last day of vacation, but under the circumstances it seems appropriate to call her and see if she can meet with us tomorrow. Perhaps at the office?”
“If she’s willing. I’d like to see your office anyway. Do you know if Arthur will be in the office on Monday?”
“I haven’t spoken to him since I gave him a ride home from the hospital, but he seemed to be well on the road to recovery then. I assume he’ll be there.”
Meg glanced at Seth. “Would it be rude to ask him to join us today?” Meg hated the way she sounded: pushy and petulant. Did her father take her seriously? Or did he actually believe she was wrong and was only humoring her? She really didn’t know if she believed her own reasoning, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. “The sooner we can get this cleared up, the sooner we can get out of your hair.”
Phillip smiled. “My hair is happy to have you, Meg. Let me make some calls.”
When Phillip had left the room, Meg stood up abruptly. “I need some fresh air. I’m going outside.” She stalked away without anyone following, and that included Seth. Did she want him to follow? No, she decided, at the moment what she wanted was time to think. Alone.
She grabbed the first heavy coat she came to in the hall closet and went out the back door to the patio. The place where Enrique had died. It was ample in size, partly covered with an old-fashioned metal awning. The outdoor cushions had been taken in for the winter, but the bare seats were still there, under the awning. She dropped into one of those, facing the lawn with its brown patches, and sulked.
This is why I don’t come visit my parents often, she said to herself, silently. I’ll always be their child, and they’ll always be my parents. There’s no way they can see me as an equal—the deck is stacked against that. It’s not even personal. But that doesn’t explain why I’m so upset. So, Meg, why?
All right, I’m upset because I’m scared. There’s a threat out there, but I don’t know where it’s coming from and Daddy and Mother refuse to acknowledge it. They think I’m overreacting. Am I? A man is dead, and another was hospitalized. There’s no reason to think this is over, because we don’t even know why it started. Someone was looking for something. They didn’t find it on their first try at the house because they ran into Enrique, and it’s been pretty much continuously occupied since, so no one’s been back here to continue the search. Which is not the same as saying they won’t be back. Whoever it is tried looking at the office after that, and ran into poor Arthur in the way. This mysterious searcher wasn’t very smart, and was definitely unlucky. And is most likely getting frustrated.
She had a new thought. This person is an amateur, who didn’t think through the basics, like, make sure no one is around. If you want to break in, do it at night, when it’s unlikely you’ll run into anyone. If you’re worried about a flashlight showing, shut the blinds. But both the house where I’m sitting and the office are unlikely to be observed after dark anyway.
What about the alarms? Meg asked herself. Maybe he had known about Enrique and was waiting for him to disarm the alarms when he arrived, so he could get in. Maybe the intruder hadn’t meant to kill him but had planned to sneak in behind him and wait until Enrique left, before searching. But Enrique had turned back or something and startled the guy. The weapon—a brick—suggested he had been killed outside. Maybe the intruder had meant to knock him out and had hit him too hard, then panicked when he realized what he had done.
Or she. Meg regretted she hadn’t asked her father some basic questions about Miriam’s build. In the yearbook photo she had looked pretty average, but she could have changed since. Would she have been strong enough to drag Enrique’s body out of sight? She probably wasn’t strong enough to stuff him in her car and dispose of him elsewhere. Had Enrique ever met Miriam? If he had, her presence wouldn’t have alarmed him at first. She could have said Phillip had asked her to get something from the house, and that would have sounded believable. Why kill him? It didn’t make sense.
And what would Miriam want in the house?
“Meg?”
Meg hadn’t even heard Seth approaching. She realized she was freezing, and wrapped the borrowed coat more closely around her before turning to him. “Hi.”
“Are you all right? You look like you want to bite my head off.”
“I won’t, I promise. But I don’t know if I’m all right. I know I’m scared, and frustrated, and a bit angry at my parents for dismissing what I believe are real concerns. For them, not for me. Us.”
Seth moved a second chair closer to hers. “They’re your parents. It comes with the package.”
“Am I being unreasonable? No, don’t answer that, because I probably am. But something is wrong here.”
“Is that all that’s bothering you?” Seth said quietly.
“I . . . Seth, is that going to be us in twenty, thirty years?”
“Meg, their relationship has worked for them for over thirty years,” Seth pointed out.
“But that’s not what I want for us!” Meg burst out. She stood up and started pacing. “Every marriage is different—I get that. But we should be able to argue, and to share, and to lean on each other. I don’t want to be them.”
“That won’t
happen, Meg. We won’t let it. If you see any signs of that, feel free to tell me.” He stood up and pulled her close. “You’re freezing.”
“I don’t care. I needed to get away from everybody and clear my head. I feel so mad that there’s nothing I can do right now, so I have to wait until tomorrow, and smile and play the dutiful daughter. And both Mother and Daddy treat me like I’m twelve.”
“Maybe they’re scared too, and can’t admit it—to themselves or to each other. Face it, an unexplained death can be terrifying, especially when it’s in their own backyard, in this case literally. Maybe they’re in denial.”
“Maybe,” Meg said, her voice muffled by his coat. “So what do I do?”
“Stick to your guns. If you believe what you’re saying, follow through. I’m with you all the way.”
“Thank you. I wish I knew what this person was looking for. Since they checked the office, it must have something to do with a legal case, but Daddy says he hasn’t been involved in anything controversial for a while, and neither has Arthur. What’s so important that someone resorted to violence to get it? And why now? What’s changed?”
“Meg, I can’t possibly answer any of those questions, particularly if you can’t.”
“You can be an objective observer, a sounding board,” Meg pointed out. “You don’t have a history with any of these people, so if some part of their behavior looks wrong to you, it probably is. You could go have a man-to-man chat with my father—maybe he’s holding back because he thinks he’s protecting the poor little womenfolk.”
Seth smiled. “Maybe. But is he really that macho?”
Meg had to smile in return. “The term ‘macho’ has seldom been applied to my father, by anyone that I know of. Gentlemanly, maybe. Courteous. And just a wee bit sexist.”
“Meg, you’ve asked him whether he knows anything about any of this, and he’s told you no. You’re going to have to find out more, if you want him to listen to you.”
“How?” Meg shot back.
“Google New Jersey Caffarellis?” he said, after a pause.
Meg considered. “Well, it’s a start, if I can finagle some computer time. Since it was our honeymoon, we didn’t bring our laptops along, remember? In any case, it beats sitting here in the cold worrying.”
“I would agree with that. Can we go inside now?”
“Yes,” Meg said firmly. “We have work to do.”
23
Meg went back inside, followed by Seth, and after hanging up the coat she had borrowed, made a beeline for the kitchen. She was colder than she had realized: her hands were shaking and her nose was running. But at least her head was clearer. “You want some tea?” she asked Seth.
“Sure.” He settled himself at the banquette and watched her move around the kitchen. “Love that stove,” he said, pointing to the massive six-burner cooktop with double ovens.
“It’s really something, isn’t it? But I don’t think we’d have room to move if we tried to fit it into our kitchen. Besides, we’d never cook for enough people to make it worthwhile.”
“True. Did we time our wedding to avoid hosting Thanksgiving?”
“Not necessarily,” Meg said, rinsing a teapot with hot water. “I didn’t mean to dump it all on your mother. And there’s still Christmas,” she warned him.
“Mom’s used to handling Thanksgiving. But maybe we should step up for next year.”
“Fine—as long as we don’t invite more people than we can fit into the dining room.” Meg quailed at the thought of preparing a major meal for a dozen people, but no doubt the old house had seen its share of Thanksgiving dinners in the past, and who was she to complain? “Do you think your mother and Christopher are serious?”
“Is that question related to Thanksgiving?” Seth asked.
“Sort of. They’ve been spending time together lately, not that they tell us about it. What do you think?”
“Maybe,” Seth said cautiously. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing a son talks about to his mother, at least not these days. In the old days I could have taken Christopher aside and demanded to know what his intentions were, or just told him to back off. But I both like and respect Christopher, so I have no grounds for objection, if that’s what makes Mom happy. And she deserves to have someone in her life, if that’s what she wants. Besides, it would be handy to have the resident orchard expert right next door.”
“They might decide to move to Amherst together, you know.”
“Aren’t you jumping the gun just a bit? They haven’t even told us they’re dating.”
“I know, but I’m looking ahead. Then there would be two empty Chapin houses over the hill, and we have to figure out what to do with them.” The water boiled, and Meg poured it over tea bags in a china teapot. “As for the working relationship with Christopher, I wouldn’t want to bypass Bree and undermine her authority. She knows enough to reach out to Christopher when she needs help. Will it make you uncomfortable, now that we’re married, having her living in the house?”
“Yes and no. She’s been there longer than I have, but some throwback side of me wants to toss her out of our cave. She knows she could move to what’s been my house.”
“That seems like a lot of house for just her, but on the other hand, she’s not exactly the type to want roommates, and I doubt she wants Michael to move in with her.”
“Why not?” Seth asked.
“I don’t think they’re particularly serious about each other. And I think Bree is a lot more ambitious than Michael, which could be a problem down the road. We’ll have to talk with her when we get back. If we ever do.”
Elizabeth walked quietly into the room. “I thought I heard voices down here. We must be on the same wavelength—I was just going to make a pot of tea, but you’ve beaten me to it. What have you two been up to? Are you completely bored yet?”
Meg carried the teapot, clad in a cozy, to the kitchen table, and then retrieved cups, spoons, sugar, and milk. “Getting there—no offense intended.”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “None taken! I know how busy your lives are, and I’m sure you’re chafing to get back and get on with things. How did the new bathrooms turn out?”
“I didn’t send you pictures? Shoot, I must have forgotten—I was a little distracted. It’s great, having choices for a change. And I love the old bathtub! I wish I’d had it when I first started working in the orchard—my whole body ached for months.”
“I can imagine,” Elizabeth said. “Will Bree be staying on at the house?”
“Seth and I were just talking about that. We really haven’t had that discussion yet, what with everything else that was going on before we left. One more thing on the to-do list.”
“Meg, you know we won’t be offended if you want to leave soon,” Elizabeth said carefully. “You have your own lives to live.”
Meg glanced at Seth before answering, choosing her words. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems to me that you and Daddy are playing ostrich about what’s been going on. With Enrique and Arthur, I mean.”
Elizabeth looked at her tea, and added some more milk. “Is that the way it appears? You may be right. We’ve led such quiet lives, and it seems so unreal that someone we knew was murdered here, on our own property, and a friend was attacked at the office. Maybe we are trying to ignore both events, which I can hardly defend. I know you’ve had much more experience in such things.”
“Not by choice, believe me.”
“But you’ve jumped right in and confronted them,” Elizabeth replied. “I admire that.”
Meg smiled at her mother. “It’s not like I had a choice. In one case I had to prove myself innocent, and in another I had to turn around and do the same for you. Not that I distrust law enforcement, but they do try to make the simplest solution work before they look any further. We’re lucky to have a friend on the Gra
nford police, one who has an open mind.”
“But you didn’t stop after just those two situations, dear, did you?”
Meg sighed. “Not exactly. I always believed that New England was a peaceful place, but I’ve discovered there’s a lot going on beneath the surface. And memories are long—sometimes going back centuries. Old crimes don’t just disappear, they go underground, waiting.”
“Nothing so interesting here,” Elizabeth said sadly.
Are you sure? “Mother, what do you think is going on?” Meg asked.
Elizabeth looked up at her then. “Meg, I honestly don’t know. I know it’s not right to ignore what’s happened, but I can’t begin to explain it.”
Impulsively Meg laid her hand on her mother’s. “I hate to think of leaving you two when you don’t know what you’re facing.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t know if you can help. Thank you for trying, though.”
“We want to help, Elizabeth,” Seth said.
“I know, I know. I feel so useless!” Elizabeth replied.
Maybe it was time to change tactics, Meg thought. “Have you met Miriam?”
“Your father’s secretary—or should I say, assistant? Yes, a few times, when I stopped by the office. Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered what you thought of her?”
“Well, she’s about your age, so she’s not just starting out. She seemed pleasant and competent. Your father’s had nothing but good things to say about her.”
“You’re both women. Didn’t you get anything personal from her? I know Daddy wouldn’t think of such a thing.”
“I’ve spent very little time with Miriam, dear. I believe she’s married—well, since she has a different name from the one in that yearbook of yours, that would be logical.”
“Do you believe that Miriam is the office Miriam?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I do. I can see the resemblance to the old picture. Maybe she heard about the opening through the Madison connection. But I wouldn’t say she’s made any effort to hide it. I think, as Phillip said, it simply doesn’t come up.”
Seeds of Deception Page 19