Golden Malicious (Apple Orchard Mystery) (19 page)

“Thank you,” Meg said. “That’s about what I was thinking, but I wanted to check.”

Bree had been silent, but now she said, “Who pays for all this—I mean, clearing out the trees? The government? State or federal?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Meg said. “Why?”

“Because it could be somebody who wanted to attack either the Nash family or the town, or both, depending on who’s responsible for the costs. It’s probably public knowledge that the town is strapped. I don’t know about the Nashes.”

“I do—they’re hurting, too,” Meg said. “I don’t know who has the cash for this kind of thing, but it’s not like they have a choice, if the government says they have to remove the trees. Let’s hope it doesn’t come out of the owners’ pockets—there may be some remediation funds.”

Bree pressed on. “Another question for Christopher.”

“You’re right,” Meg replied. “Thanks again, Michael—you’ve been a help. Keep your ears open, will you?”

“Sure.”

Bree and Michael took off shortly after dinner, leaving Meg, Art, and Seth sitting around the kitchen table, feeling sluggish.

“Anybody do anything interesting today?” Meg asked hopefully. “Because all I’ve been doing is irrigating. Seth, anything new at Donald’s?”

Seth smiled. “Now he’s decided he wants to bring in a consultant on paint colors. He may even decide to mix his own paint.”

“What did they use for paint in seventeen whatever?”

“Milk paint, for one,” Seth said.

“As in, cow’s milk?”

“Yup. Milk plus lime and pigments—about as simple as you can get. Donald wants to be sure he gets his colors right. He’s sent off some samples from the damaged parts to someone who knows about these things, who’s going to analyze the paint layers.”

“I am so glad I have a newer house,” Art said, leaning back in his chair, his hands laced behind his head, legs outstretched.

“Lucky you,” Meg said. “Ice cream, anyone?”

After Meg had dished up ice cream and they’d eaten it quickly before it melted, Art said, “Okay, guys, I appreciate the meal and all, but I know you want to pick my brain, assuming you can find it. You’d better get down to it before I fall asleep in my chair.”

Meg and Seth exchanged a glance, and Seth nodded at Meg to go first. She quickly outlined the Asian longhorned beetle problem and what Christopher had told her about the government report, and the possible deliberate use of the insects. Art followed her narrative with a slightly bemused expression.

“Are you saying there’s a crime in here somewhere? Am I supposed to do something?”

“That’s the problem, Art,” Meg told him. “We have no idea. It could be anything from malicious mischief or vandalism to domestic terrorism. Christopher’s not aware of any other examples of deliberate misuse of insects like this. And where does the death of David Clapp fit?”

Art nodded. “You think they’re connected? You aren’t buying the accident theory? Because as far as I know, Marcus is. I haven’t heard from him in a week.”

“I figured as much. I’ll admit that may be what happened, but I don’t think we can rule out other possibilities. Say, for example, that this Clapp person was planting the insects, although what he stood to gain puzzles me. Maybe he was doing it for personal reasons, although Jonas Nash swears they were on good terms. Or maybe he was working for someone else. Either way, it’s possible that somebody found him and tried to stop him physically, and then when things went wrong he got scared and ran. Maybe killing him wasn’t intentional, but the poor guy’s just as dead.”

Art looked at her and then at Seth, his expression skeptical. “Are you really saying that these critters are worth killing anyone for? I mean, so a few trees die or get cut down—does that really justify murder? Sometimes I wonder why I talk to you two at all—you create more problems for this town, not to mention me, than anyone I’ve ever known.” Art’s smile softened his statement. “What is it you want me to do?”

Seth finally spoke up. “Nothing, at least for now. Yes, the impact of an insect infestation is serious business, but you don’t have to worry about the details. You’ll be hearing more about it because the town park is affected. To get back to the unexplained death, maybe we’re seeing demons where there are none. But we keep coming back to the basic fact that a man is dead, and it’s possible that somebody else knew about it and didn’t tell anyone. Whether or not that’s connected to this insect thing isn’t clear. Do we know enough about him?”

Art was silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m sure the state police have checked the guy’s background. On the other thing, assume somebody is in fact planting this pest in various places around here. What’s the motive? Who stands to gain?”

“That’s where we’re stuck, Art,” Meg said. “Or rather, we have a number of possible motives but no way of figuring out which one is the right one. And they all sound kind of absurd.”

“Give me the short version,” Art said.

Meg ran through her list: doing harm to Jonas Nash, either personally or through his business; trying to influence property values; or simply making trouble, although there should be easier ways of doing that than sneaking around scattering exotic insects. “Does that cover it, Seth?” she said when she had finished.

“Sounds about right,” he said.

“Oh, I forgot—while you guys were out cooking I asked Michael whether there were any environmental groups that might have reason to do this, and he said he didn’t know of any. That doesn’t mean they aren’t out there, but he’s pretty plugged into the local scene, so he would likely have heard. It seems a stretch anyway—if someone wants to save a forest, you wouldn’t send in a pest that could destroy it, right?”

“Wouldn’t make sense to me,” Art said. He stood up and stretched. “I’m going to call it a night, folks, and think about what you’ve told me—not that Marcus would welcome me poking my nose into his investigation, if there even is one, and I’m not sure there is. But I agree that it feels like another one of those pesky coincidences that just doesn’t sit right. And I do take it personally when somebody dies in my backyard. Thanks for the dinner. Don’t get up—I know the way out.”

When he was gone, Meg continued to sit at the table, too tired to move. “Well, I guess we’ve done the right thing. What’s next on your agenda?”

“I’ve got a backlog of town business to deal with. One of the letters I opened today was a follow-up from a commercial developer I’ve been talking to.”

“I thought Granford was done with all that, now that the shopping complex is up and running?”

“I’d hoped we were. I don’t want to see Granford turn into every other town with a string of strip malls with the same stores. But developers are getting hungry again. I mean, look at how much that stretch of Route 9, this side of Amherst, has been built up recently, even since you’ve arrived. Stores, hotels, restaurants.”

“You’re right—I noticed that, when I went to get my hair cut. And it does look like any other generic strip in the country, once you get past Hadley. But what would anyone want with Granford?”

“You forget that Route 202 is a main highway. There’s still land available along there. Like the park.”

She stared at him for a moment. “And the developer has his eye on that site in particular?”

Seth nodded. “Along with a few others. The developer wants to meet with the Board of Selectmen and discuss possibilities for working with the town.”

“Are you going to meet with them?”

“I’ll tell the board members about it, and we can decide if we want to take it to the next step. I’m guessing we wouldn’t—I’m sure you remember what a mess it was last time, for a variety of reasons—but I have an obligation to hear the guy out, if his intentions are legitimate.”

“It’s not your decision?”

“Not a personal decision, no, and not solely mine.”

“But it’s still on our list of motives,” Meg said, almost to herself.

“I guess so.”

“If the government or whoever has to come in and cut all those down, what kind of impact will that have on the park? Or any other wooded site around here, for that matter. People go there to enjoy the woods and nature and all that, and if you take away the forest, or the majority of it, then what? Does it serve its purpose anymore?”

“I guess I see your point. But it’s not that simple. The park is part of a town-wide recreational use plan, and it would be difficult to change that. We’d have to look into ownership issues, which are complicated by the fact that some government monies were used to acquire it. And all of this would take time—maybe years.”

“Maybe there are developers who take the long view. After all, there’s only so much land.”

“True. Oh, and I ran into another odd problem, when I stopped by the town offices, that I’m supposed to do something about. Looks like somebody’s been siphoning off electricity from the town.”

“And you know this how?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we have a municipal power provider here—Granford Power and Light. The town doesn’t manage it directly, but we do have oversight. The town administrator usually reviews the bills and authorizes payment, pro forma, but over the past year or two she noticed an unusual spike in usage, more than can be accounted for by new users like the shopping center. It’s not a lot, which is why it took her so long to identify it—it wasn’t a high priority. It was a good catch on her part.”

“Are you supposed to do something? You think it’s more than just some hard up homeowner tapping into a line to save some money?”

“Looks like it. At that level, it would take us a while to catch on. After all, it’s town money that’s paying for whatever this is.”

“Could it be something illicit, like, say, a meth lab, or a chop shop?”

Seth laughed. “Meg, you’ve been watching too many crime shows. I guess it’s possible, but it’s not likely.”

“How do you track it down? What do you look for?”

“Mostly follow the power lines around and see if anybody’s patched something in that shouldn’t be there.”

“Shouldn’t the power company be doing that?”

“Yes, and they are. I’d just be another set of eyes. There’s still a lot of unoccupied land around here, and I drive around a lot on the back roads. For that matter, if whoever it is has done a good job, it would be hard to find. Just one more niggling little problem.”

“Of which there are many, I gather. I don’t know how you do it all.”

“Some days I don’t either.” Seth smiled. “Hey, want to come along while I take Max for a walk? It should have cooled down a bit by now.”

Meg stood up, feeling her muscles protest. “Sure. Some fresh air might be good. Don’t forget bug spray. Betcha this is the leading edge of an insect uprising.”

“With a coalition between mosquitoes and Asian longhorned beetles? I find that a little hard to visualize.”

“Never say never,” Meg said, reaching for the spray she kept by the door.

Max had to be coaxed to leave his comfortable space on the floor, but once outside he perked up. He went over to greet the goats, who were also taking advantage of the cooler evening air to stroll around within the confines of their pen, then he took off toward the back of Meg’s property. At least his golden coat made him easy to follow in the growing dark. Meg and Seth linked arms and strolled after him at a more leisurely pace.

“Do you think we’ll ever know what really happened to that poor logger?”

“You know, he probably knew that park. Didn’t Jonas say their kids both played in Little League there?”

Meg stopped dead and looked at Seth. “Seth, do you realize what that means? He would have known both the park
and
the Nash land. If I weren’t so tired I’d be excited—that’s actually a clue, sort of. At least it links the victim to two properties.”

“It does. I’ll tell Art in the morning. He can take it to Marcus, if he wants—maybe he can score some points with the detective.” Seth laughed. “My, what a romantic conversation we’re having.”

“I’m too tired to be romantic. Let’s collect Max and go in before the mosquitoes find us.”

When Meg came downstairs the next morning, Bree was seated at the kitchen table with various pads and notes spread out in front of her. Seth had left earlier, headed toward his office, and he’d taken Max with him. Meg helped herself to coffee and sat down across from her.

“That looks serious,” she said.

“Maybe,” Bree responded. “I hate to say it, but I’m beginning to worry about our water supply. The water level’s been dropping.”

Not the way Meg wanted to start the day. “What does that mean, in practical terms?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you. We don’t have a lot of history on the well supply—maybe it’s just a blip. But this year’s been so dry . . . I’m worried.”

“What happens if we can’t irrigate?”

“With no rain? Uh, it depends.”

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Meg said.

“Okay, if you really want to hear it. Fruit growth happens in two phases. The first is from bloom to about fifty days after bloom. We came through that just fine. The second phase runs from fifty days to harvest—that’s when your apples grow. And that’s what depends on available water, during the hottest, driest time of the year. That’s where we are right now, and we’ve got a drought on top of the normal summer heat. We’ve been able to compensate with the well water so far, but if we can’t use that, the apples will stop growing. The older trees with deep roots will do better than the new ones.”

“Which means we should concentrate our watering on the newly planted trees, even though they’re not producing apples yet, rather than the ones that are?”

“If you’re thinking long term, yes. Those new trees need to get well-established now. They’re producing wood for the future. But even in the older trees, drought stress can reduce fruit set for the next year.”

“Are my trees stressed?” Meg asked.

“You tell me. The signs are wilting, yellowing leaves, falling leaves, and fruit drop.”

Meg thought about what she’d seen in the orchard. Things weren’t exactly looking lush, but were they that bad yet? “Uh, maybe?”

Bree shook her head. “We’re okay for now—just. But another week or two like the past few and we won’t be.”

“Can I go back to bed now and pull the covers over my head?”

Bree smiled reluctantly. “Nope. As long as we have water, we’re going to irrigate. But maybe some prayer might help.”

“I’ll consider it.” Meg stood up and refilled her coffee mug—her own form of irrigation. “Anything else you want me to worry about, that I’m helpless to control?”

“No, that should do it for now,” Bree said cheerfully. “I’ll be ready in five.”

Meg finished her breakfast and went out to greet the goats while she waited for Bree. “Hey, ladies,” she greeted them. “Hot enough for you?”

Dorcas and Isabel stared at her with their unnerving eyes. Their rectangular pupils always surprised her.

“You have enough water? Shade?”

The pair walked away and resumed grazing.

“Thanks for the moral support, you two,” Meg said as she turned to go up the hill. She was surprised to see a university van pull into her driveway, and a young man she recognized by his dark beard climb out. What was the UMass researcher doing here? she wondered. “It’s Gabe, right?” she said, as he came into earshot.

“Sure is. Gabe Aubuchon. Nice to see you again, Meg.”

“What brings you out here?”

“Christopher Ramsdell sent me out—not because
you
have any problem, personally,” he hurried to reassure Meg. “He thought I should take a look at the ALB in the wild—thought it might give me some new insights into the rearing process. I spend most of my time in the lab, but yesterday I tagged along with the state inspectors, to learn how they spot them. So now I’m just checking out random patches of forest, to see if I can spot any more ALBs.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of wooded land. Mainly what you can see on the other side of the meadow there, and more toward the back of the property. You haven’t seen it in a forest?”

“Not an active infestation, before now. There aren’t many, thank goodness. I mean, I’ve seen chunks of log that show the damage the ALB has caused—they make some big holes and tunnels! But it’s not the same as seeing them on their home ground.”

“Have the inspectors found any more infested sites?”

“They have, although not big ones. The chainsaw gangs should show up by next week. You mind if I look at your wooded land?” Gabe asked.

“Go right ahead,” Meg said, although she had to admit to herself she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear bad news if Gabe found anything.

“What about up the hill?” Gabe asked, gazing at Meg’s orchard.

“That stand of trees at the top belongs to the Chapins. Like I said, I haven’t seen any inspectors. You think the insects are here?”

“You might see the state crew come by. They’ll start from the spots they’ve already identified and work their way outward from there, until they get a clear half-mile perimeter. So far the finds have been a couple of miles north of here, closer to Amherst. Can I take a look at the trees up the hill?”

“Sure. I was headed that way anyway. Do you suspect there’s anything there?”

“Nope. I’m just checking things out. You never know, and if I find something, maybe I can score some points with the inspectors.”

But not the landowners
, Meg thought sourly.

As they trudged up the hill, Gabe asked, “How many trees you got here?”

“In the orchard? Maybe two thousand, or more. If you look over there to the right, those are new ones we just planted this spring—that’s a thousand right there. But they’re planted more closely than the older trees were.”

“And it’s just you doing all the work?”

“Me and my orchard manager, Briona Stewart. We hire pickers in the fall, and for a couple of days in the spring to clean up the place and prune. But, yes, mostly it’s just Bree and me. It’s manageable, if we’re willing to work really hard.”

“What’re you doing now? It’s too early to pick, right?” Gabe seemed eager to learn. Meg wondered how often Christopher let him out of the lab.

“We spend a lot of time irrigating the orchard. I’m lucky to have a well in the middle of the older part, so I’ve got water, but Bree and I are the official delivery system, which means filling tanks and hauling hoses. We really need some rain.”

“Bet you do!”

Meg checked her watch, and then saw Bree climbing the hill. “Well, Gabe, I’ll leave you to it—I’ve got to get to work. Happy hunting!”

“What was that all about?” Bree demanded when she came closer to Meg.

“That’s Gabe, the guy who works in the ALB lab at UMass. I met him the other day. Apparently Christopher let him out of the lab long enough to see the beetles he’s rearing in their wild state, and he’s checking all over.”

“You know, I think I remember meeting him when I visited that lab a couple of years ago—you don’t run into many beards like his these days. So he’s been there awhile.”

“I think he told me five years,” Meg said. “You haven’t seen any of the official inspectors around our land, have you?”

“Nope. Aren’t they supposed to notify you when they want to take a look?”

“I have no idea. They wouldn’t need to look at the orchard, because apples are not one of the host trees, but they might want to look at the wooded areas around my property. I’m not going to object, if they happen to ask.”

“I don’t care what they do, as long as they don’t get in our way. Let’s get going.”

Meg saw Gabe headed back down the hill, giving her a wave and a thumbs-up after he’d looked over the Chapin trees. Meg assumed that meant he hadn’t found anything there. There were a couple of old maples in front of her house—should she worry about those? They shaded the house, and she’d hate to lose them, but at the same time they
were
old and their dead limbs were just waiting to take a shot at her already battered roof . . .

Meg and Bree finished the morning’s watering and were poking at lunch in the kitchen when Seth stopped by later that afternoon.

“You don’t look happy,” Meg said. “You want something to eat? Drink?”

“I’ll take that drink, but what I really want is a clone of myself.”

“Why?”

He filled a glass with ice, then water, and dropped heavily in a chair. “The good news is, the State Plant Health Director and the State Plant Regulatory Official have the pest invasion situation well in hand, and it’s a pretty impressive operation, I have to say. The problem, however, is that one of the requirements is public outreach, which means press releases, interviews, public meetings, mass mailings, interacting with community interest groups, and so on—all of which falls to me.”

“You can’t ask one of the other members of the board to take it on? Or your staff?”

“You’ve seen our staff—the town clerk, one administrator, and two other select board members. I’m the best qualified, which isn’t saying much. But I’m the only one who knows anything about all this.”

“You have heard of the word ‘no,’ haven’t you?” Meg smiled to soften the comment.

“I’ve heard rumors. It’s okay—Granford isn’t very big, and we’ve got the mailing lists and e-mail contacts on file anyway. But still, it’s just one more time sink, and I’m already running behind on everything else. It’s kind of hard to earn a living when I keep getting distracted by things like this. Funny, the bills keep coming, whether or not we’re under attack from giant killer beetles.”

“I don’t suppose working with Donald makes things any easier,” Meg said.

Seth shook his head. “He’s a great guy—he knows his stuff, and he really cares about it—but he does require a lot of hand-holding, which I don’t have time for at the moment.”

“Anything new from Art? Do you know if he passed that info about Clapp on to Detective Marcus?”

“I haven’t heard. Again, it’s kind of a can of worms—I’m sure we could identify hundreds of local parents who’ve had kids who played on the park fields
and
who have taken the history tour at the sawmill, who would know the place as well as he did.”

“But how many of them ended up dead in the woods? How many of them have any kind of expertise with forests and their pests?” Meg demanded.

“Meg,” Seth snapped, “if you think it’s so important,
you
tell Art about it.” He drained his glass and stood up abruptly. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hey, peace. I’m just asking. So the answer is no, you haven’t discussed this with Art?”

“Yes, the answer is no,” Seth said, his tone only slightly less annoyed.

“Will I see you later?” Meg called out at his retreating back.

“I’m having dinner with Mom,” he tossed back over his shoulder, and he headed toward his van.

Meg sighed. With Seth these days, it seemed to be two steps forward, one step back. Right now, the ongoing heat was making everyone snappish, and that included even-tempered Seth. She turned to Bree. “So it’s just you and me?”

“Sorry, Michael and I are going to find someplace with air-conditioning. You’re on your own.”

A few hours later, after Bree had gone, Meg wandered slowly through the house. It was nice having a little alone time. Of course, that gave her time to give the house a hard look and remember how many things needed to be done. Or
could
be done—it was still standing, even with a few leaks. If the big maple by the front corner turned out to be infested and had to be taken down, she’d suffer the consequences for a long time—as long as it took to grow a thirty-foot maple. How many other homeowners were facing the same problem, if this insect threat turned out to be widespread?

Actually, from the inside the house didn’t look too bad. The parlors flanking the front hall were in pretty good shape, probably because no one had ever used them much. She’d done a lot with the kitchen when she’d moved in, out of necessity, so she could check that off her list. Of course, there were pitifully few electric outlets, at least by modern standards, but she was managing. Storm windows would be nice, but that was down the road somewhere. And a second bathroom—now that was a dream. She refused to contemplate how colonial residents had managed things like basic hygiene. She hadn’t found any archaeological trace of an outhouse, but then, she hadn’t looked very hard. She shouldn’t complain, but she did harbor dreams of a roomy, well-ventilated bathroom, maybe one with a Jacuzzi tub—just the thing to stretch out and wallow in after a hard day in the orchard. But that was going to have to remain a dream for a while longer.

In the end she settled for a cool bath, with Lolly perched on the bathroom counter for company, followed by a mystery novel she’d been saving to read, except that she fell asleep before she finished the first chapter.