Picked to Die (An Orchard Mystery) Read online

“Just don’t fall in. Meg, you ready?”

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  As they drove the short distance to the feed store, Meg said, “You know, I’ve been in this place plenty of times, but I don’t think I’ve met the owner, although I’ve probably seen him. Who is he?”

  “Jake Stebbins. Grew up in Granford, went to New Hampshire and worked there for a while, then he came back here a decade or more ago and took over the feed store—only one in town. Good guy, works hard, and his prices are fair.”

  “Got it. How big is his operation?”

  “Didn’t you say you’d been there?”

  “Yes, but I never spent much time there, and I didn’t count employees. All I buy is the goat feed.”

  “Well, Jake works in the store, and he’s got maybe five employees? During busy seasons he hires part-timers to fill in, mostly high school kids, including his daughter.”

  “Maybe Novaro was there looking for work? Though his work visa is specific to one employer and can’t be transferred. So he couldn’t just pick up another job.”

  “Maybe Novaro didn’t understand that. But since Jeffrey found him after closing, we don’t know how long he may have been lying there.”

  “Will the police have talked to Jake?”

  “I assume, since that’s where Novaro was found. We’ll find out.” Seth pulled into a parking space in front of a long low building with stacks of brightly colored plastic containers lined up along the perimeter, and large signs advertising feed products on the wall above. They climbed out of the car, and Meg followed Seth into the building.

  She watched as a thickset fifty-something man emerged from an office at the back and walked toward them. “Hey, Seth, how you doing? I see you’ve dug up the town green.”

  “Hey, Jake. Yeah, it seems like Granford can’t leave well enough alone. You heard about what we found under the building?”

  “Yeah, I did. Weird, isn’t it? Poor guy.” Jake turned to Meg. “Meg Corey, right? How’re those goats of yours doing?”

  “I’m surprised that you recognize me—I don’t think we’ve met officially.”

  “I like to know who my customers are.” The man held out his hand. “Jake Stebbins, at your service. Besides, there aren’t that many goats around here, and you’re buying the most feed for ’em.”

  “Well, my goats are fine, as far as I can tell. Do you know, I kind of like having them around? They’re very undemanding, and they look so intelligent when I talk with them. Plus they don’t talk back. They seem happy. Though I need another bag of that pelleted grain.”

  “No problem.”

  “I hear you had some trouble here last week,” Seth said.

  Jake’s expression turned somber. “Awful thing, that. Poor kid. They figure out who he is?”

  “His name was Novaro Miller, age eighteen,” Meg replied after glancing at Seth. “It turns out he’s the nephew of one of the Jamaican pickers who used to work at my orchard. This was his first year working as a picker in an orchard, but he decided he didn’t like the work and quit after a couple of weeks. Any chance he applied for a job here?”

  “Come on back into the office and I’ll check, but I doubt it—mostly I hire kids from the school when I need help. Yo, Billy?” Jake shouted.

  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.”

  15

  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 sh
e 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 a
bout?”

  “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.

  16

  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.