Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) (19 page)

“We believe you, Sam,” Seth said. “And we believe Jeffrey. We’re just looking for another angle to follow.
Somebody
attacked Novaro, and at the moment we have no evidence pointing at anybody else.”

Meg turned to Seth. “Did you hear anything new today?”

He didn’t answer immediately, which led Meg to suspect he was trying to edit his reply. “I’ve lined up a couple more people to talk to,” he said cautiously. Meg made a mental note to check with Seth about whether he had managed to set up a meeting with a teacher, or even the principal.

“Nothing new from the cops?” Sam demanded.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Seth said. “What was it like at school today, Jeffrey?”

“Weird. Some people went out of their way to stay about six feet away from me in the halls. Other people who had never talked to me before were suddenly all over me, asking questions. A couple of guys tried to make fun of me—you know, calling me ‘Killer Boy Scout.’ Sounds like a bad movie, doesn’t it?”

“Do you often have trouble like that at school?” Sam asked.

Jeffrey looked at his father. “You mean bullying? It happens, everywhere, I guess. I ignore it as much as I can. I’m lucky that I’m big enough to stand up to them. Some of the younger, smaller kids are easy targets.”

Jeffrey didn’t seem too disturbed about whatever bullying he had faced. Meg wondered how accurate his description was. While he wasn’t a fighter, he was a six-footer, not some poor freshman still waiting for his growth spurt.

“How did you get involved in the Scouting thing?” Seth asked.

Jeffrey glanced at his dad again before answering. “Well, after Mom had trotted me through a lot of other activities, none of which stuck, I thought I’d try the Scouts, although I joined kind of late—a lot of the local kids started out together years ago in Cub Scouts, but at the Boy Scout level they combine kids from a couple of the local towns, so I wasn’t the only newcomer. Of course, once I was in, Mom decided I should try to win some award for most merit badges in a short time, or something stupid like that. But to be honest, she wasn’t so far off in this case. I like projects—something interesting that I can finish. I like competing, and trying to move up. And I learn a lot of stuff—like for this history project. But nobody is pressuring me about it, and I get to set my own goals, so that’s good.”

To Meg it looked like Jeffrey knew himself better than his mother knew him. “Were you a Scout, Sam?” she asked.

“Yeah, years ago, but I never went as far as Jeffrey here. He was telling me last night about that archaeology badge, and how he noticed that skull during the excavation project. If Jeffrey hadn’t spotted them, that guy’s bones might have ended up in a landfill somewhere.”

“Dad!” Jeffrey protested. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“You were paying attention, and that’s important.” Sam turned to look at Meg and Seth. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? Anything we’re supposed to do?”

“Not unless the police have any more questions,” Meg said.

“Look, we’re all tired, and Jeffrey probably has homework. We can regroup tomorrow,” Sam said, and stood up. “Thanks again for the hospitality. I hope we won’t be in your hair much longer. Jeffrey, you ready? You should call your mother tonight, and we’ve still got to walk back.”

“Yeah, let’s go. Thank you, Meg, Seth.”

Sam and Jeffrey went out the back door and into the dark. When she had shut the door, Meg turned to Seth. “What did you think?”

“I think Sam is a great guy, but he may be as blind to his son’s qualities as Karen is, although in a different way.”

“Is that all?” Meg asked.

Seth cocked his head at her. “Why do you ask? Do you have a bee in your bonnet?”

“Nothing I can put my finger on,” Meg said. “Oops, not a good metaphor, putting my finger on a bee. Or maybe it is, if by doing that I get stung.”

Seth looked exasperated. “Meg, it’s been a long day. What are you talking about?”

“There are things about this attack on Novaro that I don’t understand,” Meg said slowly. “Before you came home, Raynard brought Novaro’s uncle Hector over so we could talk. Poor man—he only wanted to help his nephew. Anyway, Hector hinted that Novaro had had some troubles before he left Jamaica. I suppose the police will look into that, although Hector said he hadn’t told the police everything, because he might have lied on Novaro’s visa application and he was afraid he’d get in trouble. But the bottom line is, nobody has come up with a good reason why Novaro was at the feed store that night.”

Seth nodded. “That’s a good point. There’s nothing there to interest a guy his age. It’s out of sight, but it’s on the main highway—so maybe he was meeting someone and didn’t want to be observed?”

“Someone like who?” Meg shot back. “Someone he couldn’t meet openly in public?”

“I wish I had any suggestions, but I don’t,” Seth said.

Meg switched topics. “Did you get in touch with anyone at the school?”

“Yes, we’re going to meet with his history teacher, Mr. Dillenberger, at five tomorrow. Mr. Dillenberger was teaching there when I was in school, and he’s a smart guy—and observant. We couldn’t get away with much in his class. That’s why I wanted to see him, especially since we know Jeffrey’s interested in history.”

“Okay, sounds good. What about the Scoutmaster?”

“Jeez, woman, you don’t ask for much,” Seth teased. “He said he’d see us after a meeting tomorrow evening, at eight. If we can stay awake that long. Which means we should get some sleep now, though first I’ve got to take Max out.”

“I’ll go on up, then. Seth, I don’t mean to be pushy, but I want to see this thing solved. Jeffrey’s got enough problems in his life without dealing with an assault accusation hanging over his head, even if he’s never charged.”

“Meg, you can’t fix everything.”

Another beautiful September day, one of those clear, bright ones New England was famous for. Was it Wednesday? It was hard for Meg to keep track these days. The good news: the weather was cooperating with the harvest. The bad news: there were still an awful lot of apples to be picked.

Seth had left early. Bree hadn’t been happy when Meg told her she needed to quit a little early to meet Seth at the high school at five.

“You’re seriously telling me that the police haven’t already talked to everybody in town by now?” Bree said, banging plates on the table. Lolly jumped down from her perch and fled to a quieter place.

“I’m sure they have,” Meg said, “but they don’t know the people involved. Seth does, at least in a different way.”

“So send him alone. Why do you need to be there?”

“I want to hear what people say,” Meg replied. “In case you’ve never noticed, women hear things differently, and ask different questions. I’m still trying to get a handle on Jeffrey’s character and personality.”

“Okay,” Bree said cautiously. “So what makes you think that a high school teacher will be able to tell you if one kid out of a couple of hundred is hiding a violent streak?”

“Seth knows this teacher—he had him in high school—and he trusts his judgment. He’ll have seen a lot of kids go by in his time, and he may have some useful insights. So, pretty please, may I have an hour or two off at the end of the day?”

“I guess.” Bree sat down heavily and munched on some toast.

Between bites of her own toast, Meg said, “I just keep coming back to the same question: why would Novaro be where he was found when he had no reason to be there, as far as anyone knows?”

Bree stopped to look at her. “Meg, the way I see it, there are two choices here. One, some random stranger beat up and killed Novaro Miller, and happened to dump him behind the feed store because it was an isolated spot. Two: Mr. Perfect Boy Scout Jeffrey Green gets into it with Novaro, for reasons unknown, and goes berserk. Heck, maybe Jeffrey had a psychotic break and doesn’t even remember doing it.”

Meg sighed. “Neither one makes a lot of sense.”

“No, they don’t, and there’s no evidence for either one,” Bree retorted. “But, of course, now that you know Jeffrey, you want to fix his life for him. What’s the happy ending going to be?”

Meg smiled ruefully. “Jeffrey rides off to an Ivy League college a long way from home. And Karen gets some therapy. And Sam finds a nice woman who appreciates him. And Seth and I can find time to plan a wedding.”

“Good luck with that!” Bree snorted, standing up from the table. “Anybody extra going to show up at the dinner table tonight?”

“I doubt it. Seth and I are going to meet with Jeffrey’s Scoutmaster in the evening, so we’ll probably pick up something on the way.”

“Great. Maybe Michael and I can get together,” Bree said as they headed out the door.

As she picked apples all morning, Meg mulled over why she and Seth hadn’t gotten around to doing much wedding planning yet. In some ways they seemed like an old married couple already—she could almost forget that Seth owned another house no more than a mile away and had lived there for years before she moved in next door. So why were they having such trouble setting a date and making plans? Because they were both busy people, she kept telling herself. But a niggling little voice kept saying,
Even busy people get married
. Instead of renting a hall and planning a menu, she was trying to solve a murder and remodel a teenager’s life.
Prioritize, Meg!

She worked steadily all day, then washed up before heading out around four thirty. She and Seth had agreed to meet at the high school parking lot on the other side of town, in time for their five-o’clock meeting. She pulled in just as the last of the students were leaving, and parked next to Seth’s van, where he was waiting.

“Right on time,” he called out. “Wouldn’t want to make the teacher wait, now, would we?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “I was never called to the teacher’s office after hours. Or the principal’s office. What’s the teacher’s name, again?”

“Howard Dillenberger. He’s got to be past sixty now—when I took his class he seemed ancient, which must have meant over forty. He didn’t suffer fools gladly, and he always knew when you hadn’t read the assignment and nailed you.”

“Sounds like fun. And you still came out liking history?”

“I did. He made it much more real than any textbook I ever read. And, of course, we’re living in the midst of a lot of it here in Granford. Wonder if he’s heard about the body under the Historical Society.”

As they were speaking, Seth had led Meg to the front door. The building was modern, and as a nod to security Seth had to push a buzzer and identify himself before anyone would let them in. Meg stifled a sigh: life had seemed so much more innocent when she was in high school. And yet, she reminded herself, they were here to investigate a crime where a student was a potential suspect in the fatal attack on another teenager. Maybe times had changed, or maybe she’d just been naïve when she was in high school.

Seth led Meg to the main office, where he chatted with the staff and introduced her around—and where they had to sign the visitors’ book—then he confidently guided her through the maze of hallways to a classroom on the far side of the building. There, behind a standard desk, sat a man who reminded Meg of what she thought a modern-day Nero Wolfe would look like: he was large and rumpled, with scrambled hair and an anachronistic mustache. Also like Nero Wolfe, his eyes were sharp and intelligent. He stood up and smoothed down his tweed jacket.

“Seth Chapin. How long has it been?” He held out his hand to shake Seth’s.

“I’ve missed a reunion or two. Must be ten years since I’ve seen you. This is my fiancée, Meg Corey.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Dillenberger,” Meg said. “I’m glad we could get together on such short notice.”

“I’m glad you came to me. Sit, both of you—get one of those wooden chairs from around the edge of the room. I won’t insist anyone over the age of eighteen sit in those molded monstrosities the school insists on using in classrooms.”

Seth brought over two straight-backed wooden chairs and set them in front of the desk. They sat.

“I’m happy to help out Jeffrey, and it’s a treat to meet the woman who appears to be keeping the Granford police busy,” Mr. Dillenberger said.

“That wasn’t my intent, really,” Meg protested.

“Of course not, my dear. But you have gone out of your way to involve yourself with young Jeffrey, haven’t you? You have no other connection to him?”

“No, we only met last week. I haven’t lived long in Granford, so while my roots go way back, I still don’t know most people in town. But his family has asked us for our help, and Jeffrey looked like he could use it.”

“So, what do you want from me?” the teacher said.

“On the surface Jeffrey Green seems like a perfect kid,” Seth began. “Smart, hardworking, nice to his mother, a Boy Scout, and so on. But he doesn’t seem to have any friends. And now he’s somehow become a suspect in a fatal attack on a stranger—a stranger to him and to Granford, I might add. How do we get from A to B? I thought, since you’ve spent some time with him, that you may have seen something under the surface that others missed.”

Mr. Dillenberger sat back in his chair—which creaked—and folded his hands over his belly. “For the most part, I’d say what you see in Jeffrey is what you get. He always comes to class prepared. He understands the material and makes some interesting connections. He even reads outside the syllabus, and that’s rare. I wish he’d laugh more, maybe make a joke now and then. But as his teacher I can’t complain.”

“He’s an only child, and his parents are recently divorced—I gather it was hostile,” Meg said. “Does that have something to do with it?”

“Maybe. Only children often are more comfortable with adults than with their peers. I’m not privy to his home situation, but I’ve met his mother on several occasions and found her . . . difficult. She’s complained to the school administration more than once that we don’t offer more AP classes. I could be charitable and say she wants only the best for her son, but she’s pushing him as hard as possible toward a big-name college.” He glanced quickly at the door to the corridor, but there were no people in the hall. “I sense she’s more concerned with her boasting rights than with finding a good fit for Jeffrey.”

“Has he told you what he wants to study?” Meg asked.

“Not in so many words. Were I to be asked for a letter of recommendation, and I probably will be at some point in the near future, I would say his interests lie in the humanities rather than the sciences. He has shown a real flair for history.”

“Has he told you about the excavation on the green?” Meg asked.

“Not personally, but of course the rumors flew. It was a skull he found, wasn’t it? Fascinating.”

“It was, in pieces, and the rest of the body was recovered as well. Jeffrey volunteered to do some research to see if there was any way to identify the body. But that was before the . . . other situation.”

“Is there anyone here that he’s particularly close to?” Seth asked. “In class or out?”

“Among the boys in his class, I’d say there’s a group of perhaps five or six who share similar interests and aptitudes, and I often see them together in the cafeteria or on their way home. But I see them as traveling in a pack, perhaps for protective reasons. There does not seem to be any one in particular whom I would say is an actual friend.”

“Is there anyone who’s shown antagonism toward Jeff?” Seth followed up.

“Ah, Seth, surely you know there are always those who try to knock the smarter boys off their pedestals.” Mr. Dillenberger paused for a moment. “Before I say too much more, may I ask why you’re so involved in this? After all, the state police are handling this investigation, are they not?”

“Yes, and I know they do a good job. But as Meg said, Jeffrey’s family asked us to help, and sometimes someone who isn’t connected to law enforcement can have better luck in simply talking with people. We’re not doing anything that would compromise the investigation, if you’re worried.”

Mr. Dillenberger nodded. “Thank you, Seth. I do have to be careful. As I was going to say, the jocks aren’t always kind to the nerds. I could give you the boys’ names, if you like. We have our share of slackers, as we did in your day.
Plus ça change
and so on. But I can’t think of any person or group that has singled Jeffrey out. He’s a very self-possessed young man. If anyone has attempted to bully him, they’ve had little success.”

“We’ve noticed,” Seth said. “Anything else, Meg?”

“What about romantic relationships? Has he shown any romantic inclinations toward . . . anyone?” she asked. “Male or female?”

Mr. Dillenberger smiled. “Such a politically correct phraseology, Meg! We do have a cadre of gay and lesbian students—it’s quite de rigueur these days. But I haven’t seen young Jeffrey in their company. I’d venture to say he leans in the more traditional direction, albeit cautiously.”

“Mr. Dillenberger, are you trying to say that you
have
noticed Jeffrey showing interest in a girl?” Meg said, surprised.

“That would be my educated guess, although I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re dating, or whatever they call it these days,” Mr. Dillenberger said, then added, “I must admit I despise the term ‘hooking up’—it sounds so mechanical. I think in days past Jeffrey’s current situation might have been characterized as an early stage of courtship, although I would venture to say that Jeffrey’s aspirations are far higher than a brief fling.”

“Does the girl in question appear to return his affections, or is he just worshipping from afar?” Seth asked.

“My, quite the turn of phrase, Seth. I’d say the former. She’s a nice girl, kind of shy. She isn’t in my class, but I’ve seen her regularly, and he often seems to be in her vicinity.”

“Do you know her name?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t. I believe she’s a year or two younger. I’m sure I could find out, if you like.”

“That might be helpful, as long as you don’t rock the boat. If there is a girl he’s interested in, I get the impression Jeffrey hasn’t shared even a hint of that with either of his parents.”

“Understandable,” Mr. Dillenberger said. “I’m sure his mother would declare the young woman unsuitable, sight unseen. In her eyes Jeffrey is destined for better things, and she wouldn’t want him to be tied down to a hometown sweetheart. I don’t believe I know Jeffrey’s father.”

“Sam Green,” Seth said quickly. “He came back to town as soon as he heard about Jeffrey’s problems—not from his ex-wife, I might add. He seems like a nice guy, which may explain why he and Karen aren’t together any longer.”

“Seth Chapin, I do believe you dislike Karen.” Mr. Dillenberger said with mock horror.

“I’m afraid so. She’s not helping Jeffrey at all.”

“Which is why you and Meg have so kindly stepped in, I surmise. It’s admirable of you, but I hope it doesn’t complicate matters.”

“What do you mean?” Meg asked.

“Jeffrey’s loyalties may be somewhat conflicted at the moment, given his parents’ situation, and he’s facing all the hormonal torments of his age and gender. Add to that the stress of this being his senior year, and I would say he is in a rather vulnerable state. Perhaps it’s a good thing that he has the two of you on his side—certainly he needs someone, and the fact that you are not related to him is a plus. All I’m saying is, tread carefully.”