Nipped in the Bud Page 5

  “I’m sorry. Now I’m depressing you too. So what’s the solution?”

  “We try to fix it.”

  “You mean try to solve the murder and prove that it was a fluke rather than the result of a creeping sickness in our town? That always makes Detective Marcus soooo happy with us.”

  “He’s a good man, even if he kind of lacks empathy. And from what I’ve heard, he’s a good police officer. But we have an advantage: we’re insiders. We know the town and its people, not just casually but from long experience. People here have roots that go back a long way. Even you do—as you know, you wouldn’t be here if some distant relative hadn’t left the place to your mother. That’s a personal connection, even if you don’t know all the details.”

  “You aren’t going to go all woo-woo on me now, are you, Seth? The ancestors called me home?” Meg asked, finally managing to produce a smile.

  “What, that your ancestors brought you here for a purpose? No, I won’t go that far. But tell me you don’t feel some sort of commitment to this place, this town, and you want to see things made right. And that means figuring out who killed Jenn, if we can.”

  “Bypassing the police?”

  “No, contributing what we know or find out, that they can’t. Partnering. We’re smart enough to keep out of their way if need be, but we do possess some advantages. Like insider knowledge. Not of drugs, but of people here.”

  Meg felt a flicker of hope. “Okay, I’m in. Where do we start?”

  “We already have. We showed Detective Marcus the lay of the land with that aerial photo. He might not have thought to look at that particular view on his own.”

  “He might also tell us we’re trying to make it look like the killer came from somewhere outside Granford, for our own reasons.”

  “Maybe. But turn that around: based on what we know about Granford, we don’t believe the killer came from here, so we’re looking for an alternative explanation. And we found a possible one, that he chose Granford because it was a good place to hide out. Or so he thought.”

  “I still say he scouted the location ahead of time. He couldn’t have been that lucky, to stumble over it,” Meg protested.

  “Say he did. Say he made a conscious decision to find a place that had nothing to do with him, that provided some cover, where a passing stranger, even one with a rifle, wouldn’t look unusual if he went tramping through the woods.”

  “Does that make the search easier or harder?”

  “I can’t say, but at least it offers another option.”

  “All right, Sherlock, what do we do next?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Oh, sorry—bad pun. You know, if this hadn’t happened literally in our backyard, I might have stayed blissfully ignorant of the whole drug problem, and that troubles me. I’m an elected town councilman, so I should be aware of issues like this, or else I should give up the position and let the town find someone else who is more on top of things.”

  “Well, from my perspective, I dislike those books where some ditzy young woman decides she’s smarter than the local police and sets off to solve crimes, usually putting herself, her loved ones and her friends at risk. That’s not an intelligent way to do things. Marcus doesn’t like amateurs meddling in his business, and I can understand that. But you and I didn’t start out to meddle—we were forced into this by the killer. I would like to be able to find a way to collaborate with the police, to give them information that we have better access to than they do without stepping all over their toes. Is that possible, do you think?”

  “In a perfect world, maybe.” Seth stood up and started pacing around the kitchen. “No, that sounds cynical. We just have to find a way to convince Detective Marcus that we’d be an asset rather than a nuisance so that he’d actually listen to us, and then stay out of his way.”

  “Not an easy task,” Meg said. “Seth, are you sure this is a good idea? I know we can contribute, but he seems to be locking horns with the narcotics unit over what Marcus sees as his jurisdiction—homicide—and to come trotting to him with our little bits of evidence is kind of like rubbing salt into his wounds, isn’t it? He’s been told he can’t act on it. Anyway, he seems to glare at me every time he sees me. And if he’s wrestling with the narcotics unit over jurisdiction, that’s only going to get worse.” Meg stopped for a moment to think. “You know, we might enlist Christopher in this.”

  “Why?” Seth asked.

  “Because he’s a college professor with lots of students, some of whom know a lot about chemistry.” When Seth started to protest, Meg held up a hand. “Hear me out. I know he seems a bit unworldly, but he does see a lot of younger people on a day-to-day basis, so he might notice some unusual behavior, especially if he’s looking for it.”

  “You mean caused by drugs? And what would unusual behavior look like?” Seth asked with a half smile.

  “I only know what I see on television or in movies, but I think you can guess. People looking for dark corners where they swap cash for a plastic bag of something-or-other. I’m going to make the assumption that they aren’t using credit cards for their transactions. Or what about students who either nod off in class or suddenly become uncharacteristically hyperactive?”

  “Interesting, but there are plenty of other explanations for that kind of behavior, starting with lack of sleep or, at the other end, too much caffeine.”

  “But Christopher is a scientist. He should be able to distinguish, and he has plenty of time to observe. Look, I’m trying to be helpful here. I won’t claim that he’s going to make the bust of the decade in his class, but he might make a note of nontypical behavior.”

  “I guess it’s worth talking to him about,” Seth admitted.

  “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Okay, you come up with an idea.”

  “I’m coming up blank.”

  “Let me ask you one thing, then,” Meg pressed. “Did you, in your misspent youth, ever try any illicit substances?”

  “Uh, no comment.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes of sorts. I was more or less the same. I thought I should try a thing or two, just to see what everyone was talking about, but none of them ever appealed to me. They made me either stupid or nauseous, neither of which I enjoyed. I’ve stuck to wine ever since, and you must have noticed by now that a glass or two puts me to sleep.”

  Seth smiled at her. “Listen to us—we’ve turned into our parents. My dad’s drink of choice was whiskey, and my mom drank only on Christmas and her birthday, and even then not much. But on a more serious note, the variety and effects of contemporary drugs are much broader and more complex, and the symptoms are harder to detect or interpret. And I’m sure the prices for buyers are all over the map. Of course, college kids have a lot more disposable cash these days than I ever did when I was their age.”

  “The world has changed around us. So where are we?”

  “Still thinking, if you ask me. And it’s been less than twenty-four hours since the poor woman died, and the news hasn’t even gone public yet. Maybe Detective Marcus will wrap the case up before sundown.”

  “We can only hope.”

  As she got up to wash their few dishes, Meg realized that while it had been an interesting and thought-provoking discussion, they’d backed away from any mention of babies. Was that deliberate? Or maybe she needed to look at the broader picture: Did she want to bring a child into this increasingly unstable world? Would global warming destroy her apple trees within the next few years? Or would widespread colony collapse disorder eliminate so many bees that there would be none left to pollinate her orchard, even if the trees survived? Of course, if that turned out to be true, a lot of other people would be suffering as well, since plants that required pollination would dwindle. So where did a child fit?

  Maybe it was time to get together with Seth’s sister Rachel, whose youngest child, Maggie, was a few months old now, and study the real thing. Rachel had been very discreet about bringing up the issue when they were all together. Or
maybe she just figured that she’d done her part for the family by producing three grandkids for Lydia and that was enough. She didn’t feel any need to nag Meg to add to the population.

  “Seth?” she said. When he looked up, she went on, “Why don’t we have all your family over for a big dinner, since we’ve got time on our hands? I like winter cooking—I can make nice slow stews, and I could bake a cake—you know, make things I never have time for during apple season. And I haven’t seen Rachel and her gang for a while.”

  “Sounds nice,” Seth said. “When?”

  “Let’s try for tomorrow—that gives me time to get some food in and clean up the place,” Meg told him. And maybe the combined police forces would have solved the murder by then. Maybe.

  Chapter 7

  Larry showed up at the back door in the early afternoon. When Meg opened the door, he asked, “Is Seth here?”

  “Sure is. Were you two going to talk about the tiny house?”

  “I think so—he said he wanted to.”

  “Come on in,” Meg said, stepping back to let him pass. “Have you eaten? Or do you want something to drink?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Hi, Seth.”

  “Larry! Just the person I wanted to see.”

  “What?” Larry asked, looking startled by Seth’s enthusiasm.

  “We’ve got free time at the moment, and I thought we could use it to get the tiny house started. Or even finished by the time you and Meg have to get to work in the orchard, if we move fast. You’re still interested, right? Because I’m okay with it if you want to stay in the other house. This was just an idea.”

  “No, I like the idea of a place of my own, and I don’t care if it’s small. The house is kind of noisy. I mean, it’s normal noise, but I’m not used to it.”

  “Did you ever live in a dorm when you went to college, Larry?” Meg asked.

  “No, I lived at home and took classes. Couldn’t afford the extra fees. Why?”

  “So you’ve never had the experience of living in a building with a couple of hundred college boys. I hear they’re kind of rowdy, not that I’d know from personal experience. Women’s dorms are quieter. I’ve always heard a lot of the guys in dorms ended up flunking out, often in their first year, at least at the universities with large student populations, because they spend more time partying than studying.”

  “I wouldn’t know. Seth, we don’t need to do this if it’s too much work.”

  But Seth wouldn’t be diverted, Meg noted. “I want to. I like the idea, and it sounds like fun. We’ve already got a foundation in place, and I think we should either use it or tear it down, and I hate to waste anything that’s already built. It looks like it’s been there a long time. But if you’re going to be the first occupant, I though you should have some say in what goes into it. Don’t worry—this is just talk. I’ve never actually seen one, but there’s plenty of information on the internet. Come on, sit down—we’re just spit-balling here. Meg, you joining us?”

  “Maybe. I was thinking about baking some cookies while you guys make plans, since people seem to keep dropping in on us. But I think a woman’s opinion might be useful in figuring out how a small space would be most efficient to live in.”

  “I won’t argue with that. Maybe we should work on the dining room table—it’s larger. And the computer is there. Let me go dig up some paper and lined pads and we can get started.”

  When Seth left to find some materials, Meg said, “Larry, don’t feel you have to go along with this if you don’t want to. I think Seth is going a little stir-crazy, since there’s not much construction or renovation going on at the moment and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. On the other hand, if you work together you might be able to finish this quickly, and he’d feel good about having completed something. Maybe after you two figure out whatever plans you need, then we can talk about what needs to be done in the orchard.”

  “I’m cool with it, and I don’t mind doing the work. I spent a lot of time back on our farm just trying to keep things together and running, so I know how things work, and I can use most tools. I can pull my own weight.”

  “Hey, guys,” Seth called out from the next room. “You coming?”

  Meg and Larry trooped dutifully into the dining room and settled themselves around the table, with Seth at the head. He started explaining quickly. “We know the existing foundation is about twenty by twenty-five feet, outside dimensions, and I don’t want to rebuild it. We might need to shore it up a bit, but I think it’s fundamentally sound, and the footings are deep enough to support the weight. They built things to last in the old days, even chicken coops, and I guess they had plenty of stone to work with. So that’s the size we’re starting with. Off the top of your head, what do you want inside, Larry?”

  Larry looked startled at being questioned directly. “Well, uh, the obvious, I guess. Running water, heat, light. Someplace to cook and a space to sleep. That’s about it.”

  “One or two levels? I mean, do you want a loft above for sleeping? That’d give you more floor space downstairs.”

  “Sure, okay. I can handle getting in and out of a loft. And the heat’ll rise in winter so it will stay warm.”

  “Good point. Now, about utilities, we kicked around some ideas back in January, but there are practical issues to think about. If we want to run power lines, we have to involve the town and get permits. Not impossible, but it might slow things down. Now, for heat—”

  Larry interrupted him. “Propane is easy to install, and economical. Or maybe a wood-burning stove—there’s plenty of deadwood coming from the orchard and the surrounding woods to feed it. Or maybe even both.”

  “Right—plus you could use the propane to cook, if you needed to. Then there’s water.”

  “You have a well here?” Larry asked.

  “For the house, yes, although there’s municipal water out on the street. You planning to bathe a lot?” Seth asked.

  “What? Oh, are you joking? Sometimes, anyway. How do you calculate how much water you need?”

  “I’d have to look that up. There might be a tipping point between tapping into the original wellhead versus the cost of drilling a new small one closer to the tiny house. Town water would cost us some money, plus running a line from the road to the back. Oh, and when it comes to laying out the inside, it makes sense to keep all the plumbing concentrated in one area—you know, sink, toilet, kitchen.” Seth was busy scribbling notes as he spoke. “Now, back to power.”

  “What’re the choices?”

  “What’re you going to be using inside there?” Seth countered. “Television? Music devices? Computer and printer? Anything else? At the very least you’ll have to charge your cell phone. And, of course, some lights. The cook-stove can run on propane, as you pointed out.”

  “Will the town approve an extra electric line?”

  “Maybe. Probably. But it won’t come cheap.”

  “I don’t want to cost you money. What about a gas-powered generator?”

  “We could do that, but you’d have to be responsible about keeping it running. I think the power line is a better long-term prospect. We could put the wiring in place, and then use the generator for a while and see how it goes. If it’s not enough, it can be replaced in the future.” Seth added more scribbles to the large pad in front of him. “Look, we don’t have to decide all this today—I’m just laying out the choices we need to make before we start construction. Anything else you can think of now?”

  “I know I walk by the place, like, every day, but is it open on all sides? With windows?”

  “What do you mean?” Seth asked.

  “Well, it’s not in the middle of a stand of trees, right? Or does it have bushes around it?”

  “You’re worried about feeling exposed,” Meg said suddenly. “We can certainly put up curtains.”

  “It’s not just that—it’s kinda like being unprotected. But that’s good in a way, because nobody can sneak up on you.”

 
; “Are you worried about that, Larry?” Meg asked softly.

  Larry looked down at his hands in his lap. “Sometimes, maybe. The place where I grew up, it was really out in the country, more than here. There were other animals around—lots of deer, coyotes, once even a bear. Funny how much noise animals can make at night, when there aren’t other sounds like cars to cover it up.”

  “Larry, you don’t have to do this if you’d rather be around more people,” Seth said. “Just because I’m getting carried away with the idea doesn’t mean you have to like it.”

  “It’s okay, really. I have to get used to it. Heck, I grew up with quiet nights and animals. It’ll be fine. Anything else we need to decide?”

  “Why don’t you go online and look at pictures of some examples of this kind of thing?” Seth suggested. “You might get some ideas about layouts and size.”

  “Yeah, sure, good idea. When were you thinking of starting, Seth?”

  “I’ll need to put some measurements together and then get the materials. Later this week, maybe, weather permitting? But we’ll need to decide on the utilities first. Why don’t you sleep on it and we can talk in the morning?”

  “Sounds good. If you don’t need me for anything else right now, I’d better be going. Meg, maybe we can talk about pruning tomorrow?”

  “Works for me, Larry.”

  Larry left without any further comment. “He’s still a little rough around the edges, isn’t he?” Seth commented.

  “He’s worked hard to get where he is, and he does know how to manage an orchard—Christopher vouches for him. Socially he’s a bit awkward, but he’s young. He seemed very nervous about something, though. You think he really likes the idea of a tiny house or he’s just trying to please you?”

  “He doesn’t work for me, he works for you,” Seth replied. “I thought he was into the whole idea, when we first talked about it. Maybe this shooting has him spooked?”