Nipped in the Bud Read online

  It didn’t take long to reach the house. Meg knew Seth kept a set of keys for it, but it seemed rude to barge in on whoever was inside, even though he had every right to. Instead he pounded on the front door, then pounded again. After a few minutes there was the sound of movement inside, and finally Larry pulled open the door, looking like he’d just crawled out of bed. “Hey, Larry,” Meg greeted him. “You weren’t answering your phone so we decided to come look for you.”

  “Oh. Uh. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, though I don’t think it involves you. There was a shooting in the woods, over that way, on the other side of my house.” Meg waved vaguely toward the stand of trees. “The police are investigating. Have they been here?”

  “Nope, not that I know of. What happened?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Did you happen to hear a gunshot last night after dinner? Or see anybody lurking in the woods?”

  Larry shook his head. “I had my headphones on—didn’t hear a thing. And it was pretty dark by then.”

  “Are the rest of the tenants here?” Seth asked.

  “I dunno,” Larry said. “Like I told you, I had my headphones on. I was watching a movie. My door was shut.”

  Why was it almost everything that Larry said sounded evasive? Maybe it was an unconscious response—he’d grown up on a struggling farm, and managed to get himself a degree, but maybe it was intimidating to him to be surrounded by all these Amherst College eggheads. Or maybe she was being judgmental—maybe Larry really didn’t care about chats on Eastern religions or renaissance painting over the dinner table, or maybe all the other occupants of the house were blue-collar workers and they all had a great time watching football or basketball or whatever.

  “Mind if I go up and see if they’re home?” Seth asked. “I’m not snooping, but this is a police investigation, and the more we find out, the better.”

  “Sure, go ahead. It’s your place.”

  Seth went up the stairs and started knocking on doors. Larry seemed to be waking up gradually, and asked Meg, “Hey, you want some coffee or something?”

  “Sure, fine. Kitchen?”

  Larry nodded, then turned and made for the kitchen. Meg followed. The room was less of a pigsty than she had feared. Of course, she hadn’t been inside a house occupied by young male students for quite a while, so she wasn’t sure what current standards were. She cleared a space at the table—where last night’s dishes were still scattered—and watched Larry boil water and spoon coffee into a pot. At least it wasn’t instant.

  “There are, what—three other guys living here? Since the beginning of the year?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t exactly know them. We all kind of keep to ourselves, you know?”

  “I guess that makes it easier to get along.”

  Larry poured boiling water over the grounds. Seth came into the kitchen. “Nobody home,” he said. “Did they not come home last night, or did they leave early?”

  Larry shrugged. “I can’t say. I don’t keep track of them. You gonna tell me what this is all about?”

  Seth sighed. “You’ll hear soon enough. Like I said, someone was shot in those woods last night. Meg and I both heard the shot—we were out walking Max. Could’ve been hunters, although it was definitely too dark to see much. Anyway, Max took off to investigate, so I had to follow, and I found the body. Still bleeding a little, but definitely dead.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I didn’t know the person—it was a woman.” Larry looked up then, startled, as Seth went on. “I called the local cops and they took over. Art Preston showed up quickly, and he said he called the state cops, but I don’t know if they’ve done what they need to do yet.”

  “Anybody else know who it was?”

  “So far, no. At least, Art didn’t know earlier this morning, or if he did, he didn’t share with us. He’d probably be the one they called first, since he was the first officer on the scene.”

  “Hunting accident?” Larry asked.

  “No. The woman was shot in the back.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s bad.”

  “You wouldn’t know if any of your housemates had a woman visiting him?” Meg asked.

  “I might have noticed that,” Larry admitted.

  “Meg, the woman was probably old enough to be these kids’ mother,” Seth pointed out. “Was somebody’s mom visiting?”

  “Not that I saw. So, you’re saying somebody killed her? Out in the woods? Why?”

  “Yes, she was killed. There’s the location of the wound, for one thing. And she had no ID on her, although she could have left that wherever she was staying. She was dressed for the weather, at least, so she was probably out there deliberately, not because someone forced her. But there had to be someone else there. The one with the gun. Do you know how to handle a gun, Larry?”

  “Sure. I grew up on a farm, remember? We were always shooting rats, maybe coyotes. But I’ve never hunted for food or sport. Just didn’t care for killing things. And before you ask, I don’t know if anybody else in the house owns a gun. I’ve never seen one here.”

  “My father had a shotgun,” Seth said, “but that should still be at my mother’s house. Meg, remind me to ask her if she’s still got it.”

  “Are we going to go talk to her?”

  “I suppose we should. She’s probably too far from the scene to have heard anything, but I’d rather she found out about the death from me than from the police, or the news. She might have seen an unfamiliar car passing on the road. You don’t have to come, you know.”

  “Of course I do,” Meg protested. “I like your mother. What’s more, I know what it’s like to be a woman living alone. No matter how careful you are, how many locks and sensors and what-have-yous you install, you still feel vulnerable. Maybe you men feel the same way but can’t admit it, but women need to acknowledge those fears and have other people take them seriously. So I’m coming with you.”

  Seth looked sheepish now. “I’m sorry, to you and to all women I might have offended in the past. Apparently I’m an insensitive oaf. I would be happy to have you accompany me to my mother’s house.”

  Larry had been watching this verbal ping-pong with bewilderment. “So should I be worried too?”

  “I don’t think so, unless you have reason to believe one of your current roommates is a killer.”

  “Only when he tries to cook,” Larry muttered.

  “Larry, we need to talk about pruning,” Meg said, “but it can wait a day or two, unless you have other ideas. Otherwise, just keep your eyes open, and let someone know if you see something or someone odd. Have you seen any legitimate hunters on the property before now?”

  Larry shook his head. “Not the best place for deer, and not much else worth shooting these days. Anybody with half a brain would ask someone who knew the land where the best place to go would be.” Meg and Seth exchanged a look: Larry agreed that a hunter would be out of place in this corner of Granford, particularly one accompanied by a woman. Or maybe both were hunters, out to prove something. In any case, the survivor had been careful to remove any obvious evidence, or had been counting on the snow to mess up the scene.

  “You want to take Max?” Meg asked Seth.

  “Either we walk from here and take Max or we take him back down the hill and drive over. Unless you want to dog-sit for a short time, Larry?”

  “No problem. Max and me, we get along fine. And you and me, we need to talk about the tiny house idea. The weather should be getting better soon, and I’d like to get started before we get too busy in the orchard.”

  “Or you’re getting fed up with dealing with a house full of roommates,” Seth said, grinning at him. “Talk to me tomorrow and we’ll make a plan. I’ll collect Max after we’ve seen my mother. Oh, and if the police come to talk to you, just tell them what you told us.”

  “Got it. See you later.”

  Chapter 4

  Meg and Seth set out again. The temperature had wa
rmed up a few degrees, and most of the snow was already gone.

  “You really think my mother is afraid of being alone in her house?” Seth asked, puffing a bit as they continued up the hill.

  “I said most women would be. Lydia is a sensible woman and not easily frightened. Does she own a gun?”

  “No, or not that she’s told me. But like I said, there used to be a shotgun at the house. Still, we never had any trouble at the house, the kind that required a gun.”

  “Seth, how many years have you lived in this part of town? The world has changed—haven’t you noticed? High school kids have illegal guns now, and sometimes they use them.”

  “In Granford?”

  “You tell me. You talk to Art more often that I do. But it’s true in many places in the country, as far as that goes. Holyoke among them. Just because we’ve got pretty green trees and a white church on the green does not mean we’re immune.”

  “Okay, point taken. You want me to get a gun, in case you need it when I’m not around?”

  “No. Don’t. I wouldn’t use it. If I tried, I’d probably shoot myself in the foot, if I could remember where I’d hidden the cartridges.” She grabbed Seth’s coat sleeve. “I’m not saying this lightly, you know. I don’t believe I could shoot another human being, even one who was threatening me.”

  “What if the person was threatening someone you cared about? A child? Me?”

  “Seth, I’d rather not find out.”

  “And I hope you never will.”

  They’d reached Lydia’s house, and Seth knocked at the kitchen door. Meg wasn’t surprised when Christopher answered their knock: to anyone seeing him with Lydia, it was immediately obvious that they were very much a couple these days. “Come in, come in,” Christopher said. “I suppose this isn’t a social call.”

  “Not exactly,” Seth admitted. “There was a shooting in the woods beyond our house last night. Someone died. I found the body not long after. I thought you should know, before someone else told you.”

  Lydia stood up quickly from her seat at the kitchen table and gave her son a hug. “Oh, Seth, how awful. Was it anyone we knew? Anyone local?”

  “So far nobody knows, or at least as of the time we talked to Art Preston over breakfast. I’m sure he’ll get around to talking to you, although I guess it’s unlikely that you would have heard anything this far away, with your windows closed. But he’d been up all night, so he went home to get a few hours of sleep.”

  “Was it a hunting accident?” Christopher asked.

  “No. Couldn’t have been. The victim was shot in the back. There was no sign of the gun that killed her.”

  “Her?” Lydia said quickly, startled.

  “Yes, it was a woman, about Meg’s age. Dressed for the weather, but no ID on her. And no sign of the shooter. Art did the preliminary work, but he put in a call to the state police, after he’d checked to see if it was someone he knew from Granford. Of course, last night there was just enough snow to mess up anything like evidence.”

  “The person could have come from anywhere, no?”

  Seth shrugged. “I don’t know much. It was dark and snowing, and when Art showed up at the scene I handed the whole thing over to him. Meg and I are just trying to help by talking to any people we know who might have heard or seen something. Which is itself a pretty short list.”

  “I would not want to undertake that investigation,” Christopher said. “To the best of my knowledge, Amherst has a population of close to forty thousand people, and Northampton is close behind when the colleges are in session. A person or people could easily have come from either one, and from even farther afield as well. If the deceased was not known to the local authorities, it’s a rather daunting task to find a single person. She could have been a student, a faculty member, a mere visitor, or someone just passing through. No sign of a vehicle, I presume?”

  “Not that I know of. Let me get the official part of my visit over with, if I can call it that—I’m just trying to help out Art. Did you hear a gunshot around seven o’clock last night? It would have been a rifle, not a handgun.” Lydia and Christopher exchanged a glance, and Lydia answered for them both. “No. As you said, the windows were all closed, and we were watching a movie at the other end of the house.”

  Seth went on, “Have you seen any strangers roaming around lately? Singly or a pair? Anybody acting suspicious? Anybody carrying a rifle, with or without a case?”

  This time Christopher spoke. “I think I can safely say that the answer to all of those questions is no. We have the advantage of a clear view in all directions from this house, and movement is apt to catch my eye, as well as Lydia’s. That means that we must entertain the possibility that this unfortunate death was planned in advance, and the killer sought to leave as little evidence as possible behind, and sought to avoid detection. And apparently he—or she—is a fair shot, since there was only the one report. But he did not think through his plan adequately. Perhaps he was not from this part of the state? Surely he would have been aware that domestic animals wander through the area? The body could have been found far sooner than he would have liked.”

  “That’s one possibility,” Seth agreed. “But what if he had planned to remove the body but was interrupted? Maybe even by Meg and me? I’m sure anyone could hear us coming for miles on a still night. And then there was Max.”

  “Seth, are you saying we were that close to walking in on the murder, or right after?” Meg asked anxiously.

  “Oh, my dear, perhaps I should not have suggested that,” Christopher said, sounding contrite. “Surely this is a safe place to walk, or to exercise your dog.”

  “Somehow it doesn’t feel quite as safe as it seemed yesterday,” Meg said softly.

  “Have you had breakfast? Or would you like some coffee?” Lydia asked, and Meg wondered if she was trying to change the subject.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Seth said, “but Meg and I ate early. We were going to go over some plans, and I want to talk to Larry about the space we’re building for him so we can get started as soon as it warms up enough. I get the feeling he doesn’t enjoy having a batch of roommates, even if the price is right. Which is to say, nothing.”

  “I suppose I can understand that, dear. You’ll let us know if Art finds out anything new?”

  “Of course.”

  Meg was already pulling on her coat. “Lydia, you and I really should get together, while we both have time. I’ve got a lot of thinning to do in the orchard, but I’ve been waiting for Larry to give me the go-ahead. I’m still afraid of doing more harm than good.”

  “I understand. But please, be careful! Both of you.”

  When Meg and Seth had gotten beyond earshot, Meg said, “I feel badly that we had to upset Lydia, although I understand your reasons for telling her first.”

  “This whole thing has been upsetting, all the more so because we don’t know who did it. You know I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve always felt secure here. Heck, half the time my father didn’t even lock up the plumbing supplies for the business. We knew our neighbors and trusted them. There simply weren’t many strangers roaming around, even in hunting season.”

  “But what about the colleges? There were always new people coming and going there.”

  “Yes, but mainly students and faculty focused on their classes or getting a degree. Sometimes they’d cut loose and get drunk on a weekend, but that was the exception, not the rule. And fewer kids had cars when I was their age, so they couldn’t roam around getting into trouble. Besides, this doesn’t feel like a prank gone wrong or an accident. Somebody wanted that woman dead.”

  They both fell silent as they made a detour to Seth’s house to retrieve Max. When Larry handed him over, Seth said, “Can the tiny house plans wait until tomorrow?”

  “No problem,” Larry replied. “See you then.”

  When they were back at their house, Seth held the door open for them. Once inside he said, “Is your computer on the dining room table?�
�

  “Yes. Why?”

  “There’s something I want to check.”

  “Okay,” Meg said, slightly mystified. “You want any more coffee?”

  “Sure, fine.” Clearly Seth’s mind was somewhere else as he sat down at the table and turned on the laptop. By the time the coffee was ready, he returned to the kitchen, triumphantly brandishing a color printout of something. “You need to take a look at this,” he said.

  “Okay. What am I looking at?” Meg asked, setting a mug of coffee in front of Seth and pulling up a chair next to him.

  “This is an aerial photo of our properties. Take a minute so you can figure out where we are.”

  It took her a couple of moments to orient herself, and then things kind of clicked. “Okay, I see it. Here’s my house”—she laid a finger on a length of road with a row of houses along it—“and here’s yours and your mother’s. Right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t know why I never looked at this view before, or not carefully. I’ve seen all the old maps, the first ones that show our properties. There are quite a few more houses now, aren’t there?”

  “There are, and as I said earlier, fewer farms. But the road has been here since the eighteenth century. There’s a document at the town hall in Northampton that describes laying out the road, with directions like ‘turn left at Widow Smith’s barn,’ or ‘go fifty rods past the old oak.’ It’s fun to read, although I’d guess most of those landmarks are long gone.”

  “There’s the field behind this place.” Meg pointed to a squarish open plot on the map. “What was it you wanted me to see?”

  “Look beyond the field, to the east. It’s all wooded, for at least a mile.”

  Meg could see a swath of green at the end of her property. “But part of that is boggy, at least when there’s a wet spring or summer. Why does this matter?”

  “Because the trees run all the way down to the road, and quite a ways to the north. I’d guess they follow the brook, which was too wet to develop, like you said. But my point is that someone could park down the road from here and enter the woods, and no one would see him—or them—coming or going. He might need to know about the boggy patches, but that wouldn’t be hard to figure out. Would you say that the shot could have come from the east of where we were walking?”