One Bad Apple (29 page)

“That does put things in a different light,” Seth said slowly.

“There’s more. He dropped her, not too long ago. But she wasn’t the only one he was fooling around with. And now there’s this mystery woman he was with the night he died.”

He help up a hand. “Meg, I don’t want to hear what amounts to gossip. Maybe you don’t like Cinda, but she’s got a lot riding on this project professionally. I can’t believe she would think that killing her boss was the best way to get what she wanted.”

“Why not? Maybe she thought she could get away with it,” Meg replied bitterly. “It sure gave her a great motive, especially if Chandler was about to send her back to Boston.” But even to her own ears her argument sounded weak. Cinda resorting to murder? Improbable, as Seth had pointed out. Maybe it was time to give up: she couldn’t prove anything to anyone, and her suspicions kept falling on deaf ears. Maybe she should just pack up and get out of Granford before she lost what was left of her sanity. Or dignity.

“Seth, why didn’t you tell me you’d been married?” The words were out of her mouth before her brain caught up.

Seth looked startled at her abrupt change of subject, and as she watched, his expression changed. She wanted to crawl into a hole. He’d been a friend, nothing more, and now she was poking into his private life. She had no right to ask him anything personal—even though her personal life seemed to be common knowledge in Granford. She didn’t belong here; she just kept getting it wrong.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said quietly after a long pause. “It was over a long time ago.”

“Does she think so?” Meg parried. And hated herself for doing it. He’d as much as said it wasn’t her business. What did she hope to gain?

“Meg, I don’t know what you’re getting at. Yes, I was married once. It ended. So what?”

“Rachel and Gail believe that Nancy thinks she still has a chance with you. If the plumbing business goes under.”

Seth stood up, so abruptly that the mugs rattled on the table. “You’ve talked to Rachel and Gail about this? Jesus, Meg, what do you want?”

She stood up, too, and faced him. “I want to know who killed Chandler! I want to know why everybody around here knows things I don’t. But this is Granford, where everybody has lived in their neighbors’ hip pockets for the last two hundred years and can tell you what their crazy great-uncle ate for breakfast. I’m not part of this place, and I’m the one being accused of killing Chandler. It’s not fair!”

As Meg fought back tears, she thought she saw pity on Seth’s face. “Meg, I think you need to cool down. I’m sorry that you’re a suspect, and I don’t believe you killed him. But I think you’re grasping at straws. I don’t see that my ex-wife has anything to do with this, and I think you’re throwing mud at Cinda because on some level you’re jealous of her, whether or not you admit it. She took Chandler from you, and she’s the one with the hot job.”

“I never
had
Chandler! Not in any way that mattered. She was welcome to him. Tell me, Seth, did Cinda come on to you?”

“What? Try to seduce me, to get me to go along? You’re suggesting she used Chandler’s tactics? You really are losing it, Meg.”

“I’m asking. Yes or no?” Meg said stubbornly.

Seth leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “No. Maybe I should take that as a compliment. Maybe she figured I wouldn’t be easy to manipulate.” He paused before adding, “Unlike the way Chandler manipulated some of the women around here. If what you say is true.” His doubt was clear.

“Seth, I’m sorry I even had to bring this up. I know how it must sound.”
Desperate.

“Do you?” But his expression was still closed to her, and Seth chose his words carefully. “I can see how it looks to you. Cinda’s smart, ambitious. Knows her business. Uses her charm when she has to. But last time I checked, that’s not a crime. So, what are you proposing to do with your suspicions? Go to the detective? He already figures you’re a jealous woman. Maybe he’s not far off.”

“Seth!” But even as she protested, she had to acknowledge that he had a point. Was she being irrational? Meg stood up and stalked across the kitchen, looking out at the gathering darkness. “Listen, I know you don’t know me very well, but I really don’t feel that way. I didn’t know the woman before I came to Granford; I didn’t know she was involved with Chandler. Chandler and I were over, period. So, for the record, no, I’m not trying to attack Cinda for my own personal reasons.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Seth, my own issues aside, if somebody doesn’t get to the bottom of this, what if the town passes the article? It’ll be too late to turn back.”

“Probably. I hope it passes, for the sake of the town.”

“And you want Cinda running the show in that case? Is the project really worth overlooking Chandler’s murder?”

“Meg, you can’t prove that Cinda had anything to do with this.”

“Believe me, I know that. Look, I’m sorry about this whole mess, but I didn’t ask for it.”

Seth stood up. “I hate to leave things like this, but I’ve got to get going. Listen … be careful, will you? This is a dangerous game you’re playing, throwing accusations around.” With a last look, he headed for the door.

“Seth, wait!”

He hesitated at the door. “What?”

“Can you postpone the Town Meeting?” Her last desperate shot.

He looked disgusted. “Meg, you have no idea what goes into planning a meeting. There are legal requirements, announcements, time limits, all that kind of thing. We just can’t turn off the process because you have some vague suspicions. I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.”

Meg didn’t move, staring blindly into space as the door shut behind him.

She felt more miserable than she could ever remember feeling. How had things gone so horribly wrong? She had come to Granford to accomplish something simple: fix up the house and sell it. Somehow that had evolved into a murky soap opera slash murder, with her as a prime suspect. As far as she could tell, nobody was going to end up happy. Except possibly Cinda, assuming she managed to smooth everything over with her combination of charm and brains, and the project went ahead as scheduled. Cinda would get everything she wanted, and Meg would get … squat.

So why did it hurt so much? She could walk away from Granford once the house was sold and forget the whole mess. She could go someplace and start rebuilding her life, find a new job, new friends. Chandler would still be dead, but was it really any of her business?

The answer that popped into her head surprised her. She liked it here. She liked the house: it was tough, and it had withstood years of neglect and mistreatment. She admired the sense of community she had found in Granford. She liked the people she had met. She wanted to see the town prosper, yet retain its own character.

Was that what this was about? The place had gotten under her skin while she wasn’t looking? And if that was true, maybe what she couldn’t stomach was that Cinda held the power to twist things around to serve her own selfish ends. She couldn’t stand by and watch while good and decent people got hurt for someone else’s impersonal financial gain. She didn’t want to see her orchard turned into a parking lot, putting Christopher out of a job, eradicating a piece of history. Maybe she had no control over how the town voted, but at least she could do her best to see that the citizens had all the facts before they made a decision.

Seth didn’t believe her, and that hurt. If she was wrong, she had probably alienated him. And then she thought,
Damn, I’m going to have to find another plumber.

But she wasn’t done yet. She had one last option. If no one was going to listen to her, she was going to have to make a lot more noise; if she had already destroyed her reputation in this town, she might as well go out in a blaze of glory. She had the perfect venue: the Special Town Meeting. As a registered voter and a local property owner, she had every right to speak at the meeting. And she was going to.

Meg chafed at the delay, but there was nothing she could do until the meeting Monday night. She spent the next few days holed up in her house—there was certainly plenty to keep her busy—but she couldn’t shut up the nagging voices in her head. Somehow she was not surprised to see Frances’s car pull into her driveway Sunday afternoon, but she was definitely relieved at the distraction. She opened the door before Frances had a chance to knock.

“Hi, Frances. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you about how we’re handling the sale of your place. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Meg wasn’t sure she was in any mood to talk business, but it beat her noisy thoughts. Frances walked into the hallway while Meg struggled with the door. When Meg had managed to close it, she turned to find Frances in the parlor.

“Nice,” Frances said approvingly. “You’re doing a great job.”

“Thanks,” Meg replied with mixed feelings. She was beginning to resent putting this much work into something she might not get to enjoy.

“Hey, did you get a chance to talk to Gail?” Frances rubbed an almost-affectionate hand over the now-bare plaster.

“I did, on Thursday. I told her what I was looking for and she said she’d dig around and see what she could come up with.”

“Then she will. She’s good about following through, when she can find the time.”

“She said something about a job in town. And she has a family, doesn’t she?”

“Sure does. Husband, two daughters, high school and middle school, I think. Good kids. And she still finds time for volunteer stuff. I don’t know how she does it.”

“Do you know everybody in town?”

“Pretty much.” Frances smiled. “Hard not to, when I’ve lived here all my life. And selling real estate means I’ve been inside most of the places here, at one time or another. And in case you’re wondering, no spouse, no kiddies. Just didn’t happen for me.”

Meg couldn’t think of a good answer for that. Her state wasn’t very different: no spouse, no long-term relationships, no children even on the distant horizon. But at least Frances had a place where she belonged, which was more than Meg could say for herself.

“Can we sit?” Frances asked hesitantly.

“Sure. Is there something we need to talk about?”
Please let it not be bad news.
Meg wasn’t sure she could handle any more.

“We’ve kept things pretty loose up to now, about me selling this place, right?”

Meg nodded, mystified.

“Well, business is tight, and after Chandler shut me out … I just thought we should get some things clear up front. It’s customary to sign a contract with a Realtor, setting out terms and stuff, but in your case, your mother is co-owner?”

“Yes, but I can act on her behalf. Listen, Frances, before we go any further—”

Frances interrupted. “You aren’t going to welch on me, are you? Sell out to the developers, cutting me out?”

Like Chandler?
“No, I wouldn’t do that. The thing is, I’m not sure I want to sell at all. If the project goes through, I may not have a choice about the orchard, but I’m beginning to think I might want to keep the house, or at least think about it awhile longer. But when and if I do sell, you’re my Realtor, I promise.”

“Fair enough. But I’ve been burned once, so I’m trying to protect myself. Nothing personal.”

“Understood. Listen, Frances, can I pick your brain?”

“Sure. You still chewing on Chandler’s murder?”

Meg nodded. “Who had the most to gain or lose, from a real estate perspective?”

“All the folks along the highway,” Frances said promptly. “You, for a start. Then the Chapins, next door. Theirs is probably the biggest single piece. The plumbing business sits right on the road there. They’d have to relocate, and that’d be a hassle. A bunch of other small lots, some already zoned commercial. About twenty people in all.”

“Were most of them willing?”

Frances shrugged. “More or less. Like I said, the Chapins might suffer, but if the deal is fair they’ll have enough cash to set up someplace else. Of course, it means that Mom’s house will have a strip mall in the front yard.”

“Is the money being offered fair?” Meg asked.

“To be honest, yeah, it is. Nobody is getting ripped off. Chandler wasn’t a complete sleaze. At least, not
that
way.” Frances made a sour face. “So most people will get a good deal, if the project happens.”

“You think this is going to be approved?”

“At the meeting? Shoot, I really don’t know. It’s pretty close, you know? I think the town at large is pretty split between the ‘keep it rural’ bunch and the ‘bring new life to Granford’ crowd. So, the place is getting to you, eh?”

“I guess it is,” Meg answered slowly. “I never thought much about putting down roots anywhere. I’ve been on my own since I went to college, and I figured I’d keep my options open, go wherever the job took me. And that worked fine for a while. But I come here, and I talk to people, and they have a very different perspective on where they belong. They have history, connections here. And I wonder if that’s something I want.” She laughed shortly. “If I even have that choice. After all, half the town thinks I killed Chandler.”