One Bad Apple (17 page)

Gail sat back in her chair. “So somebody offed Chandler and hid him in a convenient hole, hoping no one would notice. Might even have worked, since with just you using the plumbing, there wouldn’t be a lot passing through the system. But you didn’t see anything or anybody?”

“Nobody’s quite sure when Chandler went in, but it was probably while I was at the historical society meeting. It’s still not clear exactly when he died. The detective is looking for people who saw him on Tuesday. Anyway, no, I didn’t hear a thing. But there weren’t that many people who knew about the hole.”

“That does narrow things down a bit,” Gail said thoughtfully.

Meg went on. “My question is, did someone kill Chandler for personal reasons or to derail the development project? Maybe you can help me there. Who around here didn’t want to see this thing go forward?”

Gail sat back and tapped her chin before answering. “Let’s take a step back. What do you see when you look at Granford?”

“A nice, small New England town. Pretty. Quiet. Peaceful. A sense of history.”

Gail nodded. “Yes, all of those things. But what business do you see? The pharmacy there, a couple of home offices for a lawyer or two. Even farther out on 202, there’s not much more— some car repair places, a gas station, a couple of fast-food joints. The hard reality is, we have no tax base. Charm don’t pay the bills, and the bills keep going up. Police, fire. Snowplowing in winter. The historical society has a line item in the town budget, and every year it gets smaller. Luckily the town owns the building outright. I don’t get a salary, and we can barely keep the heat on in winter. Forget about a computer for cataloguing, or even funds for patching the roof. So, to answer your question, I think that the commercial strip would be a blessing. It may not be quaint and pretty, but we need it.”

“But what about the land? I mean, the people whose land will be taken over for the project?”

“You mean like the Chapins? I’d say there’s a mixed reaction. You know, if you dig into the records, you’ll find that a lot of the property around here has been in the same family for centuries. Like your place. The Warrens lived there from the time the land was first surveyed until—what, thirty years ago? But we don’t farm much around here anymore, so it’s mostly sentiment and inertia that keep the plots together. That and nobody much wants to buy them. So along comes Chandler and his bank offering a nice deal: give us the land, for a fair market price, and we’ll build you an income-producing complex. All you have to give up is a little of your pretty but useless green space, a few scenic views. It’s a win-win situation, right?”

“Sounds like it. So is there anyone who would want to sabotage the project, and why?”

“Ah, that’s the question. Maybe it was personal. Maybe somebody really didn’t like Chandler. Shoot—I don’t know. Maybe the state police will figure it out.”

“Are they any good?”

“Hard to say—we’ve never had a murder around here to investigate on their watch. But by and large I think they’re decent people, and competent.”

They both fell silent for a few moments. Meg felt frustrated; Gail hadn’t given her much information that she hadn’t already worked out for herself.

“So, what’re your plans for the house?” Gail finally asked.

Meg grimaced. “I think I’ve got to get this murder cleared up before I can do anything about selling the place. Might be hard to do from jail.”

Gail laughed. “That seems unlikely. There must be other suspects.”

Meg hesitated before asking, “What about Seth Chapin?”

“As a suspect? Forget it.”

“You answered that pretty fast. He does have a personal stake in this deal, doesn’t he? What’s his opinion?”

“You know, I can’t really say. As a selectman, he’s been conscientious about presenting it to the town, but I know he really cares about the family place. I’d have to guess he’s torn up about it, but I don’t think he’d stand in the way of the project. And, believe me, I can’t see Seth Chapin murdering anybody, certainly not for a couple of acres of land.” She paused. “Or maybe that wasn’t the question you were asking?”

Meg sputtered. “What do you mean? Was I asking about Seth because …”

Gail laughed. “Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You’re single, right? And new in town? He’s single. He lives next door to you. He has a steady job and all his teeth. You want me to believe that the thought has never crossed your mind?”

“No! Really. I mean, he has been helpful, and he’s been showing me around, and he introduced me to his sister, and …” Meg stopped. Maybe she had been misreading Seth’s behavior. Maybe she had willfully shut her eyes to the possibilities. Maybe she’d been more hurt by Chandler’s rejection than she realized. She had been planning a quick departure from Granford, and she hadn’t been looking for any personal entanglements. But that was something to think about later—after this murder was cleared up. “Is this what small-town living is all about? The whole town is playing matchmaker?”

Gail laughed at her dismay. “Don’t worry about it. But, in a way, yes. It is a small town, and people tend to look out for each other. Seth’s a popular guy—people like him. So of course they wonder, especially when he’s seen with you around town. Don’t take it personally.”

Meg pondered the wisdom of her next question before decidingto take the plunge. “So why hasn’t some nice woman snatched him up already?”

“One did, years ago. Not a local girl, somebody he met in college—she went to Holyoke, I think. Nancy something-or-other. Didn’t last.” Gail looked at her and grinned. “Bet you’re dying to know why.”

“Just curious,” Meg said primly. “I mean, he seems like a nice guy and all.” And why hadn’t Seth told her anything about this Nancy person?

Gail snorted. “He is, no question. But Nancy didn’t want to be married to a small-town plumber. She thought she was getting an Amherst grad who’d go on to graduate school and get a cozy academic job. She was really ticked when he decided to come back here and run the family business. She lasted about a year in Granford and then walked out in a huff. Didn’t get far, though—I think she does something administrative over at UMass. She still drops by, now and then—I think she’s still hoping that Seth will come to his senses and ‘live up to his full potential.’ ” Gail made air quotes around the last statement.

“And she’s waiting to latch on to him again, when and if he does?”

“Maybe. Well, that’s probably more than you need to know. But the bottom line is, Seth’s unattached. If you’re interested.”

Meg felt simultaneously confused and pleased. If she had been thinking about it—which she hadn’t—she should have wondered why a decent guy like Seth wasn’t married, with a passel of kids. He was the type. So it didn’t surprise her to hear that he had been married, and of course there was no reason why he should have filled her in on his life history. Not that she had any plans for him. After all, she was staying around only long enough to sell the house.

“Thanks for the background, Gail. Listen, do you think this whole murder mess will have any impact on selling the house? I mean, having a body pop up in the plumbing is not exactly good advertising.”

“Depends. But I’d say no, in the long run. Maybe you’re lucky Chandler wasn’t found inside the house, but in any case you should be fine. In fact, when the project goes forward, there may be a lot of outsiders moving in, and they won’t know a thing about it.”

“You’re right. Still, I’d like to see somebody arrested for Chandler’s death. We don’t want to lose sight of the fact that he was murdered. So, the final vote on the project is in a couple of weeks?”

“Yep. You coming to the meeting? You are registered to vote, right?”

“I am—Seth made sure of that. I wouldn’t miss it. Look, I hope I’m not keeping you from anything. I really appreciate your time.”

Gail laughed. “Most of the stuff has been here for longer than I’ve been on this earth. It’s not going anywhere. And I’m glad to help out a newcomer. Feel free to ask about anything.”

“Thanks.” As Meg stood up, a thought struck her. “Listen, I have some free time on my hands, but it’s usually unpredictable. Could I help you out with some of the cataloguing? I’ve got a computer at the house. I could take a couple of boxes at a time and work through them when I have the odd moment. If that would be useful.”

Gail stood up, too. “Lady, I never turn down an offer of help. I made a stab at it, and I’ve got a good software program, but there aren’t enough hours in the day, since I have to keep my day job if I want to eat. Give me a day or two to go through the boxes and find you a good place to start, and then I can show you my system. And maybe you’ll learn something about the town along the way.”

“Deal. Just let me know when.”

Meg arrived home to one solid piece of good news: the trench across her driveway had been filled in. One less thing she would have to worry about, and bless Seth for remembering to take care of it.

Meg had barely taken off her coat when she heard knocking at her front door.
Who now?
She made her way to the door and started the familiar tussle.
Note to self: do something about a doorbell or knocker.
When it opened, she was startled to find Cinda Patterson.

“Hi,” Meg said, staring blankly for a moment. “Cinda. Oh, sorry—come on in. And why don’t you just come through to the … dining room?” Somehow it felt wrong to Meg to entertain Cinda in the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”

Cinda had stopped in the hallway and was looking around. “I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this, Meg. May I call you Meg? Chandler spoke of you, and I almost feel as though I know you. His death is a tragedy, for those of us who knew him.” Her face assumed an appropriately somber expression. “It was a privilege to work with him. He taught me so much.”

“Yes, he was a fine man.” Meg almost gagged on the platitude, but she didn’t think Cinda was any more sincere than she was. She looked as though she had stepped out of
Town and Country
, wearing the perfect outfit for a casual weekend.

Duty done, Cinda deftly changed the subject. “What a lovely house this is!”

“Thank you. It’s been in the family for generations.”

“These old places are so—I don’t know—real? You feel the weight of history—all those people who have lived here before you, and left a little part of themselves behind.” Cinda sounded almost sincere, or at least well rehearsed.

Meg led the way to the dining room, where for once the table was free of clutter. “Coffee?” she asked again.

“That would be fine, if it’s no trouble.”

“None at all. Please, make yourself at home. I won’t be a minute.”

Fleeing to the kitchen, Meg thought briefly of her mother. She would have had a selection of assorted treats ready for just such an occasion, not to mention some pretty serving plates and linen doilies at hand. Meg could just about manage clean plates, period. Still, coffee she could handle, even though it had gone cold. She located a pair of matching cups and filled them, then surreptitiously heated them in the microwave. Cinda looked like the type who would take it black, no sugar, and there wasn’t any artificial sweetener in the house to offer her. So much for gracious hospitality. In any case, she didn’t want to leave Cinda alone any longer than necessary. She didn’t trust her.

Back in the dining room, Cinda was still drifting around, apparently meditating on the woodwork. She turned when Meg entered.

“Oh, thank you! I’ve had only one cup today—back-to-back meetings, you know—and I’m almost useless without it!”

Meg smiled thinly, then sat down, and Cinda followed suit. “So, what can I do for you, Cinda?”

“May I talk frankly with you, Meg?” When Meg nodded warily, she went on. “You were at the meeting in town last night, weren’t you? So you know that the bank wants very much to see this project go forward, and they’ve given me the chance to continue Chandler’s work.”

“Congratulations.” Meg thought it was the polite thing to say, whether or not she meant it.

“Thank you. It’s a real challenge for me—I’ve never worked on a project this big, at least not solo, but I think I’m ready. And the bank believes in me. But as a woman you must know how important it is that I do a good job. Don’t you?”

Smart,
Meg thought.
She’s playing the feminist card.
Meg nodded. “I know it’s not easy. You’ve got a big job here—you’ve got to win over the local movers and shakers, and work with the developers, too.”

Cinda nodded eagerly. “You see? You do understand. And I came to you because I’d really like your help in making this work.”

Meg sat back and contemplated Chandler’s former assistant. Zealous, sincere Cinda. Who, if she read the signals right, seemed to want from Meg the same thing that Chandler had— insider information. Why did they think she knew anything? Maybe she was supposed to be flattered. “Cinda, what is it you think I can do for you? You have to know I’m new here. I don’t have a lot of connections, and I certainly don’t have any influence in Granford.”