Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) (15 page)

A teenage kid appeared from the far end of the building. “Yeah, Mr. Stebbins?”

“I’m going to be in the office with these folks for a few minutes. Cover the floor, will you?”

“Sure thing.”

Jake led Meg and Seth back to his office. He waited until they found chairs—dusty from the inevitable grain chaff—and began, “Why are you two so interested, anyway?”

“Well, like I said, he’s related to a former employee of mine. Plus, we’d just met Jeffrey Green right before all this happened, and he seemed like a good kid,” Meg said. “I’m hoping he doesn’t get labeled a suspect just because he was the one who found the boy.” She wasn’t sure how to appeal to Jake, and she and Seth hadn’t discussed any sort of strategy. “And Jeffrey’s family asked us to help if we could.” She shot a quick glance again at Seth, who didn’t interrupt her. “You must know we’ve been involved in a few problems here in the past. It’s not that we don’t trust state police to do their job, but we might have a different perspective.”

Jake nodded. “It’s good of you to try, Meg, but I don’t know what I can tell you that I haven’t told the police. I didn’t know Jeffrey.”

“Jeffrey told us that he came by here to pick up an order his mother had placed?”

“Yeah, that’s right. She wanted to fertilize her lawn before winter. But she didn’t want to come pick it up herself—might mess with her manicure.”

One more person who doesn’t like Karen
, Meg thought.

Jake apologized immediately. “Sorry, that was kinda rude. I don’t think she could lift a full bag of fertilizer anyway, so she sent her son over.”

“But you didn’t see Jeffrey?” Meg asked.

“No, she told me over the phone that he’d be over late—something going on at school, or maybe that stuff going on at the green. I said I’d leave the bags out back so he could swing by and pick them up whenever. It’s not like anybody’s going to make off with bags of lawn fertilizer—I figured they were safe enough out there. I stuck a label with his name on it so he’d know what to look for. I went home about five thirty, like always, and an hour after that I got a call saying there’s been some trouble at the store. I don’t live far away—maybe half a mile past your place, Meg, so I came right over.”

“Did you see the victim?” Seth asked.

“Yes and no,” Jake said. “He was still there when I got back, but the police had him covered up. Some cop showed me a picture of the boy’s face on his tablet, but I didn’t recognize him.”

“You’re sure he never came here looking for work?”

“If he did, I never talked to him, although he might have left an application. But I’m not hiring at the moment anyway.” Meg thought Jake looked suddenly uncomfortable. Was there something there he was keeping from them?

“Who else works here?” Seth asked.

“Me, of course,” Jake said. “I’ve got a couple of full-time employees, and some high school kids who work here after school, like my daughter, Emma, but most kids are so dang busy with sports and programs nowadays, it’s hard to find anybody. And the money’s not great, I’ll admit.”

“Did you ever meet Jeffrey Green?”

“Not to speak to. This was the first time he’d made a pickup. Mostly Karen asks me to have the stuff dropped off at her place.”

“Does she have a lot of lawn?” Meg asked, mildly curious. She wasn’t familiar with Karen’s neighborhood.

“Not huge, I’d have to say, but she’s one of those people who thinks it has to be perfect, so she’s always fiddling with it. I’m not going to tell her to stop, since she’s buying all the lawn stuff from me.”

“So who applies it? I can’t see Karen out there with a fertilizer spreader.”

“Don’t know, and I didn’t ask. She never asked me to recommend someone to do it for her. If I had to guess, I’d bet her son takes care of it. From what I hear, her husband’s not in the picture anymore.”

Interesting that Karen was still trying to keep up appearances while cutting corners now that her husband was gone. Not that asking Jeffrey to help out with some chores would be wrong.

“Okay,” Seth said, “just to sum it up—you hadn’t met Jeffrey, and you’d never seen Novaro until this incident.”

“Yup, that’s about it. You working for the cops now, Seth?”

“No, just trying to get it straight in my head. And I do have a responsibility to the town. So there was nobody in the store because it was past closing.”

“Right. Emma locked up, and she said she hadn’t seen anyone hanging around. That’s what I told the cops.”

“You have any security cameras?” Seth asked.

“Sure, but they’re pointed at the register inside, not at the parking lot. I can’t afford more, and who the heck wants to steal ag products?”

“You ever work with any of the Jamaican pickers?” Seth pressed on.

Jake shrugged. “Can’t say that I have. I deal mostly with the orchard owners—either they come in to place any big orders, or they just call them in. One of these picker crew guys might drop by to get up some work gloves or something, but that’s about it. Anything else you folks want?” Jake asked. “’Cause if not, I’ve got a business to run.”

“Wait,” Meg said, “there was one other thing I’ve been wondering about: how did Novaro get here? Did he drive, do you know?”

“Yeah, he did, or that’s my guess. There was a crappy old car sitting in the corner of the lot—didn’t belong to anybody I know. I noticed it the next day, Saturday, and I told the cops. They came and took it away.”

“And you have no idea why Novaro was here?”

Jake shook his head. “Not a clue.”

Seth stood up. “I think that about covers it. Thanks for taking the time to talk to us, Jake. We’d really like to clear this up sooner rather than later, and we appreciate your help.”

“Glad to be of assistance, Seth. I’ll see you out.”

“Before we go, can you order some new apple bags for me? The old ones are getting pretty ragged,” Meg said.

“Let me check what we have in stock. If I’ve got any out back, I’ll drop ’em off at your place on the way home. How many you need? Six enough?” When Meg nodded, Jake added, “I’ll make sure Billy takes that feed you wanted out to your car now.”

Meg paid at the register, then Jake accompanied them out to the parking lot, where they saw that the sack of feed had been deposited against the back door of Seth’s van. Seth opened the door and hoisted it in easily.

“Thanks again, Jake,” Seth said.

“Good to meet you at last, Jake,” Meg said. The feed store owner raised a hand in good-bye, then turned and went back inside.

Meg and Seth climbed back into Seth’s van.

“I’m going back to work,” Seth said. “You headed home? I’ll drop you at your car.”

“Fine. You can unload the goat feed later—I think Dorcas and Isabel will survive until tonight.”

Two minutes later they arrived at the green and found Art watching the cement mixer pull away. “I missed all the fun,” he complained when Meg and Seth approached.

“There will be other pours, Art.” Seth laughed. “Hey, can we ask you a question?”

“About Novaro Miller?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Why else would you two be running around town in the middle of the day? Don’t you have work to do?”

“We’re on our way back. We had an errand at the feed store. Listen, did you talk to Jake Stebbins about Novaro Miller?”

“We didn’t know he was Novaro Miller then, remember. But, sure, the state police talked to Jake the next morning. He said he’d never seen the kid before, and he had no idea what he was doing behind the feed store. He suggested maybe it was some kind of gang thing, and Miller was dumped there because the place was close to the road but out of sight, if you know what I mean.”

“Gangs?” Meg said, surprised.

Art sighed. “Yes, gangs. Not in Granford, but around—and this is a main highway here.”

“Have any of the Jamaican pickers gotten mixed up with the gangs?” Seth asked.

“Not that I can recall. It would be quite the stretch, I agree. You know they’re here only for a short while, for the harvest, and then they move on. Plus most of them are kind of on the old side to be caught up in that kind of thing. Besides, I think any involvement in a crime, even a minor one, might cancel out their visas. Not that I’ve ever had to check. You happen to know anything, Meg?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never even heard a rumor of any criminal activity. I’ve let Bree handle all the hiring, including the visa applications. I promise I’ll pay closer attention in the future. But I do have to wonder: if this Novaro quit the job he signed up for to get here, I gather that means he’d have to go back?”

“That’s my understanding, and I’m sure the state people have checked. Like I said, it’s never come up before.”

Meg went on, “But that kind of raises another question: if Novaro quit work after only a couple of weeks, how had he been supporting himself? I hate to ask this, but
could
he have been involved in something, uh, criminal?”

“Maybe,” Art replied. “I won’t pretend there’s no crime around here. Heck, it’s everywhere. But I haven’t had to arrest anybody in town. I will say I’ve broken up a couple of small gatherings of young guys from out of town who might have been looking for trouble, but I just asked them to move on, and they did. So to answer your question, maybe Novaro could have connected with someone, but there’s no evidence of anything. Maybe the state police will find something.”

Meg hesitated a moment before asking, “Art, this may be a stupid question, but has Jeffrey Green ever been any kind of trouble?”

“With the law?” Art said, swallowing a laugh. “He doesn’t even jaywalk. I swear. He’d stop traffic on 202 to let a bunch of ducklings cross the street.”

“I know what you mean,” Meg said. She could just about see that scene. Art had confirmed her overall impression of Jeffrey, but deep inside she kind of wished he would cut loose, just a little. Rebellion—within limits—was a healthy part of teenage life, or so she remembered.

“Oh, one more thing, Art,” Meg began.

Art started laughing. “Only one?”

“I hope so! While we were at the feed store, we started wondering how Novaro had gotten there. Jake said there was an old car left in the lot, and that the state police took it away. Do you know if that was Novaro’s?”

“Not officially, if you know what I mean. But they did a quick fingerprint check and found Novaro’s prints inside the car. Also a couple of empty beer cans, though the kid was underage.”

“So he did drive himself there,” Meg said slowly. “But why?”

“No idea. If the staties know, they haven’t told me,” Art replied.

“Thanks, Art,” Seth said. “Let us know when you hear anything more, will you? I’d better get back to work. Meg, you headed home?”

“I am. There are apples waiting for me.” She watched Seth leave. “Art, there’s something else I think I need to tell you.”

He looked her in the face and realized she was serious. “What?”

“I don’t know if this is important, but I guess it might be. When Jeffrey came over here after school last Friday, I saw him kind of get into it with another boy, somebody about his own age. And there was a girl involved.”

“You want to tell me what you mean by ‘into it’?”

“Nothing physical, but they kind of faced off. It might have gotten physical if the girl hadn’t gotten between them. And then she went off with the other guy, and that seemed to be the end of it.”

“Why do you think this matters?” Art asked.

“Like I said, it may not. And that guy was white. Which might suggest that Jeffrey’s had issues with at least one other person in town. When I asked Jeffrey about what I’d seen, he said it wasn’t important. And then he went back to the dig.”

“Would you know the boy again if you saw him?”

Meg shook her head. “They pulled in at the far end of the green. I recognized Jeffrey when he got closer, but I didn’t know the other boy. Of course, I don’t know
any
other teenage boys in Granford, so I’m not saying he was from out of town.”

“And you didn’t happen to overhear what they were arguing about?”

“No—too far away. But I got the impression that it involved the girl.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Meg,” Art said. “I don’t know if it’s important, but you never know. How’re the wedding plans coming along?” he asked, clearly closing the other subject.

“We haven’t had time to make any plans yet,” Meg replied. “This is a busy season for both of us. Don’t worry—you’ll be invited whenever it happens.”

Art’s cell phone rang, and he held up a finger to Meg while he responded. “Where? Okay, I’m close. Be there in five.” He turned back to Meg. “Gotta go. Look, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know, promise.” He turned to hurry back to his squad car, leaving Meg alone on the green.

A few hours later Seth arrived home with two pizzas, to Bree’s applause. He set them down on the kitchen table, distributed plates and napkins, and they settled around it. “I thought I’d change things up a little—one’s a white pizza with veggies,” Seth said.

“Interesting comment Art made earlier about gangs in the area,” Meg said, after they had consumed their initial slices.

“Didn’t he say there aren’t any in Granford?” Seth protested.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not around.”

“Hang on, guys—now you’re saying that Novaro Miller was part of a gang?” Bree said indignantly.

“No, I’m not saying that,” Meg said sharply. “We were only trying to figure out why he was found where he was, because he had no known reason to be there. We do know now that he drove there, so he had use of a car. But it wasn’t his.”

They were all startled when the front doorbell rang.

“Who’s that going to be?” Meg asked. “Most people who know us come around to the kitchen door. It’s only strangers who use the front.”

Seth stood up. “I’ll go see who it is.”

“Please. I want to get in at least three bites of dinner before I have to face anyone else.”

Seth disappeared toward the front of the house. Reluctantly Meg listened to the sound of the door opening, the rumble of unfamiliar male voices—and the absence of anyone leaving. She sighed.

Seth returned with another man in tow. “Meg, this is Sam Green, Jeffrey’s father.”

Meg swiveled in her chair to take in the newcomer. The father who lived in Ohio? What was he doing here? He was nothing like what she had expected, after meeting Karen: he was tall and rangy, with an open face and a worried expression. She could see the resemblance to Jeffrey.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think you might be eating,” he said, contrite. “I can come back later . . .”

Meg summoned up a smile. “Hey, there’s plenty, and you’re here. Sit down and help yourself. Can we get you something to drink?”

“Is it too much to hope for cider?” Sam smiled, and his face lit up—definitely like Jeffrey, or at least the Jeffrey she’d met a few days ago, before the trouble started.

“Sure. It’s not from my orchard, but it is local. Seth, would you do the honors?”

Sam sat down, looking sheepish, and Meg introduced herself and Bree. “Didn’t Jeffrey say you lived in Ohio? Did he call you?”

The light in Sam’s face faded again. “Yes to Ohio, no to the call. Someone I know in town called to let me know what was going on. I started driving as soon as I heard, but it took me until now to get here.”

It must really hurt when your own son doesn’t reach out when he’s in trouble
, Meg thought. “How did you end up at my house?”

Seth set a glass of cold cider in front of Sam, who drank down half of it at once, then inhaled a slice of pizza. “Sorry, I didn’t stop to eat,” he mumbled around a full mouth. “I started calling the house, and Karen’s cell, and then Jeffrey’s cell, before I left, and all I got was a ‘not in service’ message—I’m thinking maybe Karen changed them all recently. I went by the house when I arrived and there was nobody there. So I went into town and talked to someone at the police department, who sent me to you. And that’s the sum total of what I know. Do you have any clue where my son is?”

“I’m sorry, no. But he was here last night, with his mother and her brother, so I doubt they’ve gone far—I think they’re staying in Northampton. You know Rick is running for Congress?”

For a moment Meg wondered if Sam was going to choke on his pizza. “It doesn’t surprise me,” Sam said after he recovered. “He’s still a resident of this congressional district?”

“He is,” Seth said. “When our last congressman decided to retire, Rick kind of jumped on the opportunity.”

“Again, I’m not surprised. May I?” Sam gestured toward the remaining pieces of pizza.

“Please,” Meg said.

Bree stood up. “I’ll get out of your way—I know most of the story anyway.”

“Okay,” Meg said. “Same routine tomorrow?”

“Yup. Bright and early. Night, all.” She went up the back stairs to her room.

Sam sat back in his chair, looking marginally better after having inhaled some food. “Seth Chapin—didn’t your father have a plumbing business near here?”

“Right over the hill. He’s gone now, and I inherited it. My mother still lives in the house.”

Sam turned to Meg. “I remember this house, but not you.”

“I’ve lived here less than two years,” Meg said. “My mother inherited the house, but it was in the family for generations before that. I’ve been so busy trying to learn orchard management that I haven’t gotten involved in too many other things around here, which is probably why we’ve never met.”

“Got it. Okay, what the hell is going on here?”

Seth, with a few assists from Meg, outlined the events of the past week, starting with Jeffrey’s volunteering to help with the Historical Society excavation through the discovery of Novaro Miller’s body and the state of the investigation, or as much as they knew of it.

When they were done, Sam looked drained. Then he said, “I refuse to believe that my boy would hurt anyone, much less someone he doesn’t know.”

“We agree,” Meg said gently.

“So, what are we going to do about it?” Sam said firmly. Meg was relieved when her cell phone rang, giving her an excuse not to answer Sam. She didn’t recognize the number, but with all that was going on, she thought she should answer it. “Hello?”

“Meg? It’s Jeffrey.” He sounded young, and not very sure of his welcome.

“Jeffrey, where are you?”

“We’re staying at the hotel in Northampton with my uncle right now. Mom wanted to get out of the house—I think she expected nosy reporters to show up, not that I’ve seen any, but she was worried anyway. Listen, I really need to get out of here and talk to somebody. Can I come over?”

“Of course. Go ahead. I’ll be here.” Meg guessed his request was more about getting away from his family than talking to her, but she didn’t mind either way.

“I’ll be there in twenty. Thank you.” He hung up abruptly.

Meg looked up to see Sam staring at her. “You didn’t tell him I was here,” he said.

Meg looked at him levelly. “He’ll find out soon enough. I thought maybe Jeffrey wouldn’t come if he knew you were here, and he sounds like he really needs a friendly face right now. I wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing you—after all, he didn’t call you when all this happened, did he?”

Sam looked at the ceiling, clearly frustrated. “No. But he’s always had my cell number, and I always answer if he calls. I bet this is Karen’s doing—she’s done everything she could to turn Jeffrey against me. Or maybe he’s trying to prove he can handle this himself, without help.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to upset Karen by keeping in touch with you. You were the one who left, and she’s the one Jeffrey has to live with day to day.”

“I know, and I’m not proud of it. But I figured if I stayed with Karen, one of us would do something we’d regret, and that wouldn’t do Jeffrey any good. And he had only this last year of school left—if he’d gone with me he’d have been starting his senior year in a whole new place, with no friends.”

Meg refrained from saying that from what she’d seen, Jeffrey didn’t have a lot of friends in Granford, either. “When did you leave?”

“Spring sometime—I don’t remember the exact date. But I’ve been back a couple of times, to see Jeffrey. I guess I hoped that he could handle it, and that he’d escape when he went to college. That doesn’t reflect very well on me.”

“I know it’s not my business, but what happened between you and Karen? I understand you don’t know me, but I’m trying to figure out what’s best for your son.”

“We both are, Sam,” Seth added.

Sam faced Meg. “I can’t tell you because I don’t really know. You live with someone, you lose objectivity, and Karen and I spent close to twenty years together. If that person is smart, he or she can sound very convincing and make you doubt yourself. And, of course, they don’t believe there’s anything wrong with them—it’s everyone else who’s at fault. And nobody appreciates them. Karen doesn’t open up much. Since I’ve put some space between us, I think I’ve come to see her more clearly. She was demanding, self-centered, and unreasonable—and as we got older, she got madder.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me. I didn’t make enough money. The house wasn’t big enough. The local organizations didn’t make her head of everything. When we were younger I thought she was just ambitious. Once she passed forty, it looked more like frustration to me. But she never figured out how to fix it, so she took it out on me.”

“Not on Jeffrey?” Seth asked.

“Emotionally, maybe. I mean, if I was a disappointment to her, she was going to do everything she could to make sure Jeffrey didn’t repeat my mistakes, or whatever she thought they were. She expected him to get top grades and take part in every sport on the calendar, and then she was disappointed when he wasn’t made team captain in his junior year. I tried to tell her he just wasn’t that into sports, but she didn’t want to hear it.”

“Sam, I know you haven’t seen much of him lately, but do you think Jeffrey’s okay?” Meg asked. “I mean, he’s under a lot of pressure—your leaving, finishing his last year of school, the whole college application thing, and trying to keep his mother happy. That’s a lot for any kid to deal with.”

“Are you suggesting that all that pressure would make him snap and take it out on some stranger?” Sam sounded angry.

Seth stood up, then leaned against the kitchen counter. “Sam, that’s not what Meg’s saying. I don’t see that kind of violence in him, not that I’m an expert. What I do see is a kid who’s dealing with a lot of stress, and it’s hard to say what outlets he’s got for it. It is possible that Jeffrey may have gotten mixed up in some things that somehow brought him into contact with Novaro, even if he wasn’t directly involved.”

“Like gangs or something? I’m not ready to believe that. But more important, what can I do to help him?” Sam asked simply.

Right question, Sam!
Meg cheered silently. She was beginning to like the man—and she was looking forward to seeing him and Jeffrey together, which promised to be revealing.

She heard a car pull up, followed shortly by a knocking at the front door. “That should be Jeffrey. I’ll go get him.” Meg stood up and went to the front of the house, wondering what to say to the troubled young man, and whether she should warn him that his father was in the kitchen, assuming he hadn’t already recognized Sam’s car.

When she opened the door, her first reaction was that this was a boy who needed a hug, badly. The poor kid looked like he was trying hard to keep everything under control, but rapidly fraying around the edges. She settled for squeezing his shoulder. “Come on in, Jeffrey. Did you tell anyone you were coming?”

He walked into the hallway, shaking his head. “Nope. Uncle Rick and Mom were arguing—what else is new?—so I just left. But then I couldn’t figure out where to go. It’s not like I can go to some bar and sit in a corner and brood.”

Meg smiled. “No, you can’t, and you shouldn’t. I’m glad you came to us. Come on back—we’re in the kitchen.”

She led the way, then waited for father and son to greet each other. Sam stood up quickly and faced Jeffrey. Jeffrey stopped suddenly at the sight of him, and Meg could watch the play of expressions over his face. So much for self-control. It took only seconds before they were hugging—man-hugging, with lots of back-slapping and throaty rumbling. Meg felt tears starting, and glanced at Seth, who was smiling. She decided she definitely liked Sam.

After a few more moments, Meg thought it was time to move things forward. It was getting late, for all of them. She and Seth had work stacked up for the next day, Sam had just driven more than five hundred miles to get here and must be exhausted, and it was a school night for Jeffrey, although that seemed the least of anyone’s worries. “Sit down, everyone. Jeffrey, have you eaten?”

He shrugged, which she took as a no.

“Sorry all the pizza’s gone, but I can make you a sandwich.” When Jeffrey started to protest, Meg held up a hand. “Don’t say no. You’ll think better with some food in you. We can clear out and let you and your father talk, if you’d rather.”

“No, please stay,” Sam said, then turned to his son. “If that’s all right with you?”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you, Meg—I’d like a sandwich, if it’s no trouble.”

He’d lapsed back into polite mode, but at least he seemed calmer. “Coming up. Seth, get Jeffrey some cider, will you?”

While Meg was assembling a sandwich, she tried not to listen in on the conversation going on between father and son, although if it had been truly private they could have gone into another room or left altogether. As it was, mostly what she heard was normal catching up, with no discussion of the death yet. She set the sandwich on the table in front of Jeffrey and sat down, as did Seth.

“Sam, do you have a place to stay?” Seth asked.

Sam shook his head. “I hadn’t thought that far. I just started driving. I’ll find a motel.”

“You can stay at my place—it’s just up the hill, and no one’s there,” Seth said. “Well, my clothes are, and I stop by now and then.” He smiled at Meg.