Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) (18 page)

As Meg drove back to her orchard, she decided to invite Sam and Jeffrey over to dinner, but her plans to call them were scotched when as soon as she parked in her driveway she found Raynard Lawrence, accompanied by another Jamaican man she found vaguely familiar-looking, who had to be Hector Dixon. So Raynard had succeeded in finding him so they could talk, and maybe she’d find out something useful about Novaro.

“Meg, I told Hector that you wished to speak to him, to learn more about his nephew, and as it happened he had finished for the day,” Raynard said as Meg got out of her car. “I hope this is a convenient time for you.”

“Of course!” Meg said quickly. “Do you want to come in?”

“I am more comfortable outside,” Hector said, “if you don’t mind. May we walk?”

“You two talk, then. Hector,” Raynard said, “I will wait here to give you a ride home, but there’s no need to hurry.”

Meg mouthed a thank-you to Raynard, and she and Hector set off across the meadow, rather than toward the orchard. After they had walked perhaps fifty feet in silence, Meg asked, “Novaro was your sister’s son?”

“He was. She has several younger ones at home. She lost her husband some years ago, and the rest of our family tries to help her out. That is why I found the position for Novaro. I hope you did not think that I left your employ because of how I was treated here. It was that I knew you could not take on an extra worker, and this other man could.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Hector—I understand the problem. So you and Novaro came over together?”

“We did. At first he stayed with me and some others, older men like me, but he wasn’t interested in our activities. Nor was he very happy with the work, even though he had grown up listening to the family talk about it and knew what to expect.” Hector’s pace slowed, but he did not look at Meg but at the distant row of trees instead. “There are some things I have not told the police, Meg.”

Meg all but held her breath, waiting.
Let him tell his story at his own pace
.

“You see, I was the one who filled out the visa application forms for Novaro, and there were certain facts that I feared would disqualify him, so I did not include them. He had had some small problems with the law back home—he had fallen in with a bad crowd, and as he had nothing better to do with his time there, he got into trouble. I had hoped—as did my sister—that getting him away from certain friends would set him back on the right path, but it did not turn out that way.”

Hector fudging Novaro’s visa application might explain his earlier reluctance to go to the police. “What happened next?”

“Novaro quit the job, then came to me and said he would no longer be staying where we stayed. I told the boy that without a job he could not remain in the country, but he did not seem concerned.”

“Did he ask you for money?”

“I had nothing to give him. We had just begun the season, so we had little. And what I earn, I send back to Jamaica.”

“Do you know how he was supporting himself, in that case?”

Hector stopped then and turned to Meg. “I do not. I lost sight of him after he quit, and as I told the police, I did not even know where to look for him. Meg, please do not think badly of the rest of us because of the thoughtless acts of one young man. It may be that he found another bad crowd here, but he did not tell me. His mother had not heard anything of this, until I called to tell her that he was dead. I suppose that cross she gave him was of little use to him—I was surprised he even kept it.”

“And you told the police that you didn’t know who his current friends were?”

“That was the truth, and that was what I told them. I kept silent only about the troubles he had before he came over—it seemed wrong to speak ill of the dead, and he was my blood.”

“I’m so sorry this happened, Hector. I think you did your best for him. I’d be happy to have you back here, if you’re looking for a place.”

“You are kind to offer. Perhaps next year, but I am set for now, and my employer is also a fair man. But he grows vegetables, and I do prefer the apples.” Hector smiled, although it took an effort. “I should let you return to your dinner preparations. And thank you for trying to find out what happened to Novaro. My sister will be grateful as well.”

“I only want to help, Hector.”

They found themselves back at Meg’s back door, where Raynard was leaning against his dusty truck, his eyes on the orchard. He straightened up when Hector and Meg returned, and as Hector climbed into the passenger side, Raynard took Meg aside. “Is everything all right?”

Meg nodded. “I think so. I feel so sorry for Hector—he thought he was doing the right thing, and then this happens. I’ll let you know if I hear anything new. Thanks for bringing him over.” She watched the truck pull away before going back to the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Bree asked when Meg walked in. “I saw you and Hector out in the meadow.”

“I asked Raynard if he could get me together with Hector—I wanted to find out more about Novaro. Raynard brought him over.”

“Did you learn much?”

“Not a lot. Mainly that he’d had some trouble back home, and that he seemed totally ungrateful once he got here—blew off the job and the lodging and went his own way. Hector doesn’t seem to know where he went. Maybe the police will have better luck.”

“Don’t count on it. Anyway, what are the plans for dinner?”

“I’m going to call and invite Sam and Jeffrey over. Stay and eat with us? You’re closer in age to Jeffrey than either Seth or me, and it might help Jeffrey feel more comfortable with us all.”

“At least you didn’t put us at the kiddie table,” Bree said, grinning to offset her sarcasm. Meg quickly dialed Sam and settled the details, then came back to where Bree was laying out cutlery and plates on the hastily cleared dining room table.

“You know what I mean,” Meg said, picking up the thread of conversation. “Sometimes I think I was never young. That’s one reason I sympathize with Jeffrey. I was always the serious, studious, completely boring kid in my high school. Anything I belonged to, I was always vice president, never president, because I was responsible, but nobody ever saw me as leadership material.”
If they saw me at all
, she added to herself. Sometimes she’d wondered if she was invisible. Yet she had had more friends than Jeffrey seemed to—hadn’t she?

“Stop apologizing, Meg. I get it. I don’t want to see this get pinned on him any more than you do. Unless, of course, he actually did kill the guy.”

“I don’t think the police have enough real evidence to pin this on anyone yet.” Meg still couldn’t point to anyone else, but she didn’t see Jeffrey as guilty, although she had no right to claim to know him well, just because she thought she recognized something of her long-ago self in him. Still, he was innocent until proven guilty, right?

It had been nearly a week now since Novaro’s death. If no one was ever charged, would the suspicion forever hang over Jeffrey? Somehow they all needed resolution—which meant finding who had killed Novaro.

Sam and Jeffrey came down the hill on foot from Seth’s house shortly before seven. “Thanks a lot for inviting us for dinner, Meg,” Sam said. “You know, there never were many restaurants in Granford. I was glad to see the new pizza place, but I’m not looking forward to eating there twice a day.”

Seth came into the kitchen. “Sorry, I haven’t kept the fridge stocked up at the house.”

“Hey, don’t apologize! We’re grateful for the beds.” Sam turned to Meg. “I was looking at your land as we walked over, Meg. How large is your orchard?”

Meg dished vegetables and rice into serving bowls, then handed them off to Bree to take to the dining table. “The place came with fifteen acres, right up the hill. I also lease another three from Seth, and this past year we planted those with a mix of steady producers and heirloom varieties. You must have walked past those.”

“Those trees are tiny!” Jeffrey said. “How long before they produce apples?”

“It’ll be a couple of years, but at the moment I’m just happy they’ve settled in well.”

“Did you always want to be a farmer . . . Meg?” Jeffrey asked. Meg found his hesitation to use her first name endearing.

“Not at all! I used to be a financial analyst for a bank, until I lost my job. My mom owned this place but hadn’t seen it in years, so she thought it would be a good idea to send me here to fix things up. I didn’t even know there was an orchard until I arrived. How about you, Jeffrey? Do you know what you want to do?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t really decided.”

Meg hurried to reassure him. “That’s fine—you’re not supposed to have all the answers at your age. But if you want to know more about farming or orchards, you should ask Bree. She got her degree from UMass not too long ago, and she knows a whole lot more than I do.” Meg handed Seth a platter of chicken. “Dinner’s ready. This is a treat for us—we don’t get to use the dining room all that often. If you look carefully, you’ll notice that most of the woodwork in the room is original to the house.”

“That’s cool,” Jeffrey said. “When was it built?”

“I think around 1760, although I’m still looking for documents to prove that, but the town didn’t officially exist then—it was still part of South Hadley. Gail at the Historical Society has been a big help finding things for me. She’s going to be thrilled to have all her records in one place.”

Jeffrey turned to Bree. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not from around here, are you?”

Bree bobbed her head. “I was born in Massachusetts, but my parents were both from Jamaica. I spent most of my life here in the state, living with my aunt.”

Dinner was a surprisingly comfortable and normal event. There was plenty of food, and both Jeffrey and Sam relaxed. They even managed to joke with each other, which Meg found an encouraging sign. Once again she reminded herself that she shouldn’t take Karen’s rather grim view of her son as the only one; from what Meg was seeing now, Jeffrey did have a lighter side, and even a sense of humor. It was clear how much he cared for his dad. She felt a surge of pity for Karen, for what she was missing.

When they’d finished eating, Bree said, “I’ll clean up. Is there dessert?”

“I cheated and bought cupcakes on the way home,” Seth said. “You can turn up your noses if you want.”

“I never turn down dessert,” Jeffrey said happily.

“You must get that from me,” Sam added. He sat back in his chair and stretched. “I can’t tell you how great this was, Meg. Not only that you fed us, but that you welcomed us into your home.”

The cupcakes disappeared quickly. Bree loaded the dishwasher and disappeared discreetly up the back stairs after saying good night.

Sam waited until she was gone, then said, “And now, I think, we’ve really got to talk.”

Jeff’s expression shut down again. “You mean me, too?”

“Yes, you, too,” Sam said. “You’re the one stuck in the middle of this. We need to hear your side of things.”

Meg hesitated a moment, reluctant to disturb the ease they’d achieved over dinner, but it was important. “Jeffrey, I know you’ve said this all before, more than once, but can we go over this one more time?” Seth signaled his agreement.

“What, finding Novaro? Sure, I guess.”

“Let me start with what we know.” Seth ticked off the main points on his fingers. “You were at the feed store to pick up your mother’s order, right?”

Jeffrey nodded.

“You drove around back,” Seth continued, “where Jake Stebbins said he’d leave the order for you. Was it dark?”

“Maybe halfway—it was around seven, I think. There aren’t any lights back there, but I could still see pretty well.”

“And you found Novaro Miller lying outside the building?”

“That’s right.”

“You didn’t see anyone else there? Anyone running away?”

“Nope. And it looked like he’d been lying there for a while, because there was a lot of blood.”

“You checked to see if he was alive?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe he had a pulse, so I checked but wasn’t sure, then I called 911 and just waited there. Oh, and I put my jacket over him—I thought he might be in shock or something and I figured he should be kept warm.”

“You’d never seen Novaro before?”

“I never met the guy,” Jeffrey replied.

“Did you see his car?” Meg asked.

“Uh, maybe?” Jeffrey looked at Meg. “I think there was one parked in front when I pulled in, but I wasn’t paying attention to it.”

“There was no one in the store?”

“Not that I noticed,” Jeffrey said. “The lights inside were turned off.”

“Was the back door open or unlocked?”

“I didn’t check. I pulled in, looking for some big bags of fertilizer. And then I saw the kid, all bloody. I didn’t need to go inside—I had my cell, so I used that to call the police. And I figured the less I messed with stuff, the better it would be. I touched him just to see if he was still alive. I might have gotten blood on my hands then, and wiped them on my clothes. I was upset.”

Sam leaned forward. “Jeffrey, you did everything right. You were careful, and you called the authorities.” He turned back to Meg and Seth. “Look, he’s told you all he knows. He did not know this Novaro person, and he certainly didn’t attack him. My son does not lie.”