Nipped in the Bud

by Sheila Connolly

  There was a moment of thick silence around the table. Finally Noah asked, “Do they know who the person was? Do they have any idea who might have shot her?”

  Seth shook his head. “The narcotics unit seems to be calling the shots. They know enough to say that it appears to be a murder, rather than a stupid hunting accident. I wondered how much the police have released to the public, other than that a shooting took place, with one fatality. Even saying the victim was a woman would make that statement more troubling. I’m sure they don’t want people to panic, and most people around here are used to taking extra precautions during hunting season.”

  Rachel spoke up for the first time. “I cannot believe that you two are smack in the middle of another investigation of a suspicious death.”

  “Rachel, we’re not exactly in the middle of it—nobody’s asked us to help. It’s just an odd coincidence that it happened on our property here,” Meg said firmly. “I’m sure that the detective would be happy if we stayed out of it altogether.”

  “But . . .” Seth began, somewhat reluctantly. All heads swiveled toward him. “Much as I hate to admit it, there’s something to be said for local participation. I’m not saying that our neighbors should be out poking around the underbrush looking for shell casings, but I did come up with one useful observation that might have escaped Marcus’s notice.”

  “What was that?” Noah asked.

  Seth looked around at the people at the table. “All of us here have a pretty good idea about the lay of the land for our adjoining properties, and what lies beyond. Marcus doesn’t come from here—in fact, I have no idea where he lives, but it’s not in Granford. I took a look at an aerial shot of our road here on the computer, and I realized that maybe the shot we heard might actually be no more than a random shot, but that the body could have been shot almost anywhere and carried in from the main road east of here and dumped where I found it. If you look at the images, it’s all wooded on the north side of the road, and those woods form the boundary of Meg’s property here, running toward the north. If the killer had picked his time right, no one would have noticed him going into the woods, with or without a body.”

  “Hold on,” Noah interrupted. “You’re saying you think somebody planned this? Committed the murder somewhere else and decided this would be a great place to dump a body? Aren’t you making a lot of assumptions? Why do you think it wasn’t a simple accident? Some idiot hunter took a shot he shouldn’t have, in poor light, and when he found out what he’d done, he left in a hurry.”

  “I’m not saying that isn’t the case. All I suggested was that, given the almost total lack of physical evidence, it makes sense to look for alternative explanations, rather than just jump on the simplest solution. We here have what you might call insider knowledge that the police don’t. Art might, because he’s been here a long time, but he doesn’t know this end of town well. Look, nobody would be happier than me to find out that this was an accident, and the shooter has come forward and confessed and the case is closed. You know I don’t go looking for trouble.”

  “You don’t have to,” Rachel said. “It finds you anyway, dear brother. So what is it we’re supposed to do with what you’ve told us?”

  “Nothing,” Seth said firmly. “This hasn’t made the news yet, which is kind of surprising, but that’s the way the narcotics people want it. Rachel, I think you and your family are safe in Amherst—nobody goes hunting in the middle of town. I’m sure your kids’ schools take hunting season into account when they plan field trips, and it’s still too early in the year to be thinking about outdoor events. Mom here is more exposed. The deer-hunting season is over, although there are often a few hunters who’ll take their chances off-season, but I’d guess that most hunters will steer clear of this neighborhood now, after what happened. There’s not much game here in any case. All I really wanted to do was to alert you if all this happens to show up in the papers and you read that Seth Chapin of Granford found a body in his backyard.”

  “Believe me, Seth, we do appreciate that,” Rachel said. “And I hope this will all be wrapped up quickly.”

  Baby Maggie had started making little mewling noises. “Somebody sounds hungry,” Rachel said. “Maybe we should head for home.”

  “I’ll round up the kids,” Noah volunteered.

  Seth stood up. “I’m sorry if I cast a shadow on what was a very nice dinner, but I thought you should know what was going on.”

  “That’s okay, Seth—it was the right thing to do,” Rachel told him. “Take care, all of you.”

  After a flurry of sorting out coats and hats and scarves and baby gear, Rachel and family departed into the darkness. Christopher and Lydia were starting to make similar leaving noises when Seth stopped them. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about—particularly you, Christopher—that I didn’t think Rachel and Noah needed to hear. Mind if we sit for a little longer?”

  “Anybody want more coffee?” Meg asked.

  “Sounds as though we might need it,” Lydia said ruefully.

  When everyone was settled again, Seth began, “I didn’t exactly give the whole story, in part because Detective Marcus told me not to spread it around. He shared this only because I was the one who found the body, and he knows he can trust me. I don’t know if he’s hoping that I’ll remember something important, or that I know more than I’m telling him, or that he only wanted to be polite.”

  “Will you get on with it, Seth?” Lydia demanded. “Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

  “Fine. The state police do know the identity of the dead woman, and have almost from the beginning. She was an investigative reporter from the Boston Globe, working on a story about the steep rise in opioid trafficking in the Pioneer Valley. She was undercover, but she did clear it with the state police, specifically the narcotics unit, so Marcus had met her.”

  “Ah,” Christopher said, “that does shed a different light on things.”

  “It does. One, it makes it much more likely that she was killed deliberately and dumped here, because her killer thought nothing in this area would point to anyone remotely known to the police. Two, this simple idea is made more complicated because whoever dumped her here had to have known at least something about this area, to know there would be enough cover to conceal what he was doing. I’m going to assume that no criminal goes wandering around in the half dark with a bleeding body in his car looking for a good place to hide it, where it might not be found for a while.”

  “So you’re saying it could be a neighbor?” Lydia asked.

  “Not necessarily a current neighbor, Mom,” Seth said, “but someone who’s been around here before.” He glanced at Meg. “But I have to admit, this whole thing has been a real wake-up call. To tell the truth, I had no idea we had anything like a serious drug problem around here. Maybe I’ve been living with my head in the clouds, but I can’t recall anyone mentioning it. Maybe that’s what happens when you work for yourself and you don’t have kids in the school system. But just because I’m blind to it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. That’s one reason I wanted to talk to you, Christopher.”

  “Me? Do you think I’m a drug dealer?” Meg had to look closely to see if Christopher was joking; it appeared he was.

  “Of course not. But you are part of the university, which means you see a lot of younger people all the time. Have you noticed any change in behavior in them, over the past couple of years? Acting oddly? Furtive? Falling asleep in class? I wish I could be clearer, but I’m clueless about what substances are available and what the symptoms are.”

  “Seth, while I am no expert, the university does circulate warnings to the staff and faculty. I know enough to say that the entire drug trade is much more sophisticated than it used to be, and dare I say, more subtle. Much of it, or so I’m told, is focused on prescription drugs, obtained illegally. Tracing those is a very different problem than searching for the source of, say, heroin. So there is no one single avenue for illicit d
rugs, there are many, and they are diverse.”

  “I’m sorry I’m sounding like an idiot. I guess you raised me right, Mom—I never messed with drugs when I was younger—or now, for that matter. And I understand that the market has changed radically.”

  “I’m glad I did something right,” Lydia told him, smiling.

  Seth turned back to Christopher. “So I guess what I’m saying is, you have a broader access to relevant information than I do. Will you keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you notice anything? Or if the university issues some urgent message? Because, unlikely though it seems, it could have something to do with the Granford killing.”

  “Of course I will, and I’ll share with you whatever I learn. But it is quite apparent that we all should be observant these days, and not dismiss what we think we see as paranoid fantasy. I will admit it saddens me to say that. But it appears that evil has arrived on our doorstep.”

  “I’m afraid it has. Look, are you ready to go home? I’ll be happy to drive you back.”

  “Thank you, Seth,” Lydia said. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Meg, you okay with that?”

  “Sure, as long as you leave Max here to protect me. He can slobber an intruder into submission.” But, she added to herself, he won’t be able to stop a rifle bullet. “Go!”

  Meg went outside to wave goodbye to Lydia and Christopher, bringing Max with her. She sat on the back steps, watching Max sniff his way around the yard before he did his business. It was still cold and very quiet, except for the occasional car passing and Max’s huffing sounds. She could hear the goats munching hay in the barn. It looked so deceptively peaceful, and yet a woman had died a few hundred yards away.

  Had somebody found out who she was and what she was doing in the area? Had she messed up and let something slip? She was old enough to be experienced—she wasn’t an eager rookie reporter looking to make a big splash. How long had she been under cover? The longer she sat, the more questions she came up with, and at this rate she’d never sleep. She whistled to Max, who came loping over to join her, then went inside, making sure the door was locked behind her.

  Chapter 10

  Meg had gone to bed early the night before, after cleaning up the kitchen with Seth’s help. She hated to come down to a kitchen full of dirty pans and plates covered with congealed food, no matter what the time. Still, in spite of plenty of sleep, she felt kind of draggy in the morning.

  It had been nice to spend time with Seth’s family members. At least, the first half of the dinner had been nice. The second half had been less so, but it was better to get everything about the murder and the investigation out in the open now. Maybe somebody with fresher eyes would stumble over a clue that would crack the case, and they could all move on.

  Downstairs Seth had already made coffee and was reading the weekly edition of the local paper. Getting the daily paper in print wasn’t possible in Granford but Meg hadn’t gotten used to browsing online—she still preferred paper, and she’d been a daily reader for most of her life. Was she still clinging to a bit of her Boston past? Certainly there wouldn’t be much Granford news in the Globe, unless the murder and the identify of the victim had been revealed. Who knew the identity of the dead woman, so far? Marcus did, because Jenn had told him who she really was, in confidence. Somehow Meg doubted that he had spilled the secret to anyone else, since the narcotics unit had asked him to keep it quiet—that wasn’t his style. At some point either the local police might figure out who she was, or someone from the Globe would come looking for her, if, say, she’d told her editor what her plan was. How secretive had she been? Meg reminded herself to try Googling her to see what information came up. Was Jenn in fact a seasoned reporter? Meg had only other people’s comments to go by.

  Meg filled her mug and sat down across from Seth. “Weather’s not bad.”

  “Nope, sure isn’t. Larry coming back?”

  “Yup. You two are supposed to play with your tiny house. How long do you think it will take to put it together?”

  “Not long. There are some good plans available—what Norm Abram would call a ‘measured drawing’—so I don’t have to reinvent the wheel. I’ve already bought some of the structural lumber.”

  “The kids seemed to like the idea yesterday.”

  “Funny how differently they reacted to it. Chloe liked the idea better than Matt.”

  “Hmmm.” Meg took a sip of coffee. “Wonder how Bree’s doing?”

  “You want her back?”

  “Not exactly. She’s smart and hardworking, but she needs to add to her orchard skills. The fact that she’s a woman of color may make getting a job more difficult. Or she may fall in love with Australia and decide to stay. But I did enjoy working with her.”

  “Not Larry?”

  “I don’t know him well yet. He’s certainly got more experience. How long do you think it will take me to catch up?”

  “Got me. Do you want to?”

  “Catch up? You mean, rather than just hiring people to do the real work, and strolling around the orchard pretending to be queen of the hill? I feel responsible for the trees, and making this all work financially, but I know there are things I need to learn if I’m going to be directly involved. You going to keep renting out your house?”

  “Do I need to decide right now? I’d hate to sell it—it’s been in the family forever. But it’s not like we need it. It can bring in a little extra money if I rent it out, but that comes with management responsibilities that I’m not sure I want. It’s been less than a month since I found some tenants, not that it would be hard in this area. I think I’d like to see how the semester goes before I decide.”

  “Works for me. Just don’t send me over to clean up after the tenants. All guys?”

  “So far. So it’s either up to them to keep the place clean or they’ll have to bring in someone from the outside to do it, and pay out of their own pockets.”

  “Do they all have cars? Do they carpool?”

  “Meg, I didn’t ask. There are buses to Amherst and the other colleges, you know.”

  “No, I did not know that. I’ve never needed one.”

  “Now you know. But otherwise, I’d like to assume that twenty-something young men can look after themselves. Maybe I’m naïve. I’ll try to check in with them now and then, and if they’re trashing the place, I’ll boot them out. I think there’s a clause in the lease that lets me do it.”

  A knocking at the back door startled them, and Meg was surprised to see Detective Marcus on the stoop. Seth went to let him in. “Detective. Can I hope you bring good news?”

  “Sorry, no. Meg, I wanted to talk to you about your orchard manager.”

  “Larry? Why? Wait—you want some coffee? Can you sit down for a few minutes?”

  “Fine.”

  He sat and watched as Meg busied herself filling another mug with coffee. She placed it in front of him, then resumed her seat. “What do you want to know? Oh, and is this an official part of your murder investigation?”

  “Potentially. Your orchard manager, Larry Bennett, lives in the house up the hill. Did anyone there ever mention seeing Jenn? Did you never see her anywhere around here?”

  Meg shook her head. “Larry had never mentioned it to me. And I haven’t even seen a photo of the woman, so I can’t say I saw her—or her body either. I’m beginning to get the feeling that a lot of people pass through that house. Detective Marcus, why haven’t you revealed her identity to the news? It’s bound to come out sooner or later.”

  Marcus didn’t meet her eyes. “As I told you, the narcotics unit has requested that we withhold that information for now. That is all that I’m authorized to say at this time.”

  Interesting. Meg filed away that fact for later consideration.

  After a pause, Marcus spoke again. “As part of this investigation, I’ve been looking into the people who were located closest to where the body was found. Obviously that includes you and Seth, and Seth’s mother
. And you’ve told me that Larry is currently living at your former home, Seth.”

  “Yes. I’m renting him a room. There are a few other tenants there as well, students at Amherst College or UMass, and one guy with a job.”

  “I was not aware of that until quite recently—I’ll have to talk to them. Have they been living there long?”

  “No, about a month, from the start of the semester. They paid rent for January.”

  “Can you provide their names?”

  “More or less. I didn’t do anything like a background check. I did interview them personally. But I’m new to this landlord business, so I can’t swear that I asked the right questions.”

  “All males?”

  “Yes, that’s who applied. Larry was already living there by then.”

  “You can’t see who’s coming or going from down here, can you?”

  “It’s over the crest of the hill, so no, and the front door faces the road up there. There’s a partial view from the second floor here. Are you planning to ask my mother these questions? Her view is about as good—or bad—as mine.”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll be discreet.”

  Meg could tell that Seth was getting impatient. “Why don’t you cut to the chase, Detective? What do you want to know?”

  “I would like to know if any of those young men, Larry Bennett included, knew or had contact with Jenn Chambers.”

  “So ask them. I mean, you didn’t show a picture of Jenn around publicly, right? And it hasn’t appeared in any news source. You said you were keeping a lid on that, at the request of the narcotics unit, to protect the investigation.”

  “And I have. So?”