Red Delicious Death (21 page)

“Apples and oranges,” Seth said. “This will be breakfast and lunch only. I don’t think they need to worry.”

“Those kids attract trouble like magnets,” Art said.

“What? Something new?” Seth asked.

Art slouched against Meg’s car. “Last night. That friend of theirs from Boston, Derek Woodfield, got into it with Jim Burnett.”

“Damn,” Seth said. “I thought we’d headed that off. What happened?”

“Remember what you told me about the meeting Tuesday?”

“You mean when Jim made an ass of himself about Sam being gay? I told him to take it outside.”

“Yup. Apparently he kept stewing about it after he left. And then this Derek character showed up, right?”

“Yes, after the meeting was over. Derek was drunk, but I thought Brian had him under control. So how did he and Jim get into it?”

“Let’s say Derek was being rather vocal in his grief yesterday. There might have been more strong drink involved. Jim had business at Town Hall, and then he spotted Derek, sitting on the porch of the restaurant. Since you’ve met him, you know Derek looks like, well, an out-of-towner, and Jim took offense. He said something to the effect that ‘we don’t want your kind here,’ and Derek told him he didn’t like his tone—or much else about him.”

“Oh, dear,” Meg said. “Did they get into a fight?”

“More or less. Jim claims that Derek provoked him, Derek says Jim started it. They met up in the middle of the green and blows were exchanged, but luckily most of them didn’t land anywhere important.”

“Then what?”

“I showed up a few minutes later, broke it up, and put both of ’em in a cell until they dried out or cooled off. Then I sent them home without charging either one of them. Derek told me he didn’t plan to stay here any longer than it took to comfort Nicky.”

“Just Nicky? Not Brian?”

“Apparently Sam and Nicky were tight, and Brian was the third wheel. If you believe Derek. He would have been happy to give me the whole history, but I cut him off.”

“What about Jim?” Seth interrupted. “Is he going to be a problem?”

“Hell, I don’t know. He’s never been in trouble before, but I hear he’s lost his job, and could be he’s just looking for any reason to take his frustrations out on somebody. At least it’s not his wife and kids, not yet anyway.”

“Art,” Meg said slowly, afraid to put her thoughts into words, “do you think Jim could have had something to do with Sam’s death?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t see it. I mean, Sam was a pretty husky guy, in good shape, and you’ve seen how skinny Jim is. You think Jim could have taken him?”

Meg shook her head. “I guess not, but I’m not a good judge. Still, I can’t see him wrestling Sam down and holding him in the mud for any length of time.”

“Does Jim have an alibi?” Seth asked.

“Checking it out now, on the quiet.”

“Nothing new on cause of death?”

“Nope. Still asphyxiation. But even if the crowd in Northampton turned up something, they wouldn’t necessarily share it with me. You know I’m not Marcus’s best buddy—he might tell me if he was about to make an arrest, if it was local, but that’s about it.”

“Are you going to tell him about Jim?” Meg asked.

Art didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t think so, not unless I turn up something. I have no reason to believe that Jim and Sam ever met. Jim doesn’t have a history of violence. He’s just a bigot in a bad mood, but that doesn’t make him a killer.”

“No, of course not. But I’d be very glad if someone would solve this thing, so we can get on with our lives. Particularly Nicky and Brian.”

“Amen,” Art said. “Well, I’d better finish my rounds. It was too nice a day to waste it all sitting at my desk, but there’s plenty waiting for me there.”

After Art had pulled away, headed toward the center of town, Meg looked at Seth. “Poor Nicky and Brian. Art’s right—they seem to attract trouble. I hope Derek isn’t going to be a problem.”

“I’ll see if I can keep Jim out of the mix,” Seth said. One of the carpenters approached and stood waiting expectantly to talk to Seth. “Well, duty calls.” He gave her a quick salute, and they parted ways.

Now what?
Meg wondered. She was nearby; she might as well touch base with Nicky.

It took Meg no more than three minutes to reach town and pull into the restaurant’s parking lot. There were a couple of vans and cars there already: it looked like the painters were at work. As she climbed the steps, Meg noted that several attractive wicker chairs had appeared on the porch, their cushions still covered in plastic. When she rapped on the screen door, one of the painters nodded toward the kitchen. “They’re in back,” he said.

“Thanks.” Meg let herself in and threaded a path through the paint buckets and drop cloths to the kitchen door. She could hear raised voices before she reached the doorway. Nicky and Derek were facing off across the large prep table in the middle of the room, and neither one looked happy. Brian was nowhere to be seen.

“I can come back later if you’re busy, Nicky,” Meg said from the doorway.

Nicky tore her gaze away from Derek and took in Meg’s presence. She straightened and pulled her apron down. “Oh, hi, Meg. Did you want something?”

Meg hesitated, looking at Derek. “I, uh, just wanted to see how things were going.”

Derek’s lip curled. “You mean, you heard about the little brouhaha on the green yesterday? My, news does travel fast in Hicksville. I’m Derek Woodfield.”

“Hi, Derek, I’m Meg Corey. We actually met Tuesday night, although I guess you don’t remember.”

“Ah, that’s right. You were with that guy who strong-armed me. I don’t think we had time to observe the social niceties. I was a bit under the weather.”

Nicky interrupted. “You were roaring drunk, Derek. And you were yesterday, too. I will not accept this. I know you’re hurting, but you can’t just show up here and make trouble—I’ve got to live with these people, and I want them as customers.”

Derek recoiled in mock dismay. “Well, excuse me for caring.”

“Derek, please . . .” Nicky said helplessly.

Derek slumped against the counter, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry, Nick. I know how much this place means to you—and what it meant to Sam. I don’t want to screw it up for you. But don’t you get the feeling that nobody cares that he’s dead? That nobody’s doing anything?”

“That’s not true, you know,” Meg said mildly. “It’s just that people around here didn’t know Sam well enough to miss him. And the case is being handled by the state police, out of Northampton. They are investigating.”

“Sure they are,” Derek snarled.

Meg stiffened. She understood his anger, but he wasn’t being fair to Granford. “Derek, you’re wrong. The police are doing their jobs. These things take time.”

Derek sighed. “Okay, okay. It’s just hard to accept. I mean, Sam was so alive, so excited about what he was doing. So interested in everything. He was really looking forward to learning about country living, and finding all sorts of good natural food. And I hate it that somebody squashed that—squashed
him
, like a bug.” Derek turned and stalked out of the kitchen, and Meg heard the screen door slam.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky said. “Damn, there I go again, apologizing. I’m not responsible for Derek. I wondered if maybe one reason Sam was so happy to leave Boston was to get away from all of Derek’s drama.”

“I thought you said Derek had moved on?”

“He had, but as you can see, he likes to make scenes. I just wish he wouldn’t do it here, now.”

“Nicky, I’m sure the police have asked you this, but do you think there’s anyone from Sam’s life in Boston that could have wanted him dead?”

“You mean, like Derek, or one of Sam’s earlier boy-friends?” Nicky shook her head vigorously. “No, no, nothing like that. Sam was monogamous, strictly one guy at a time. He and Derek had been together for a year or so, and then it ended, a few months ago. We were talking about moving out of Boston and Derek didn’t want to, so that was that. Sam wasn’t involved with anyone else, and when he knew he’d be moving out here, he didn’t push it. He figured he’d have time . . .” Nicky swallowed a sob. “I miss him,” she said softly.

Meg was torn. She wanted to comfort Nicky, and she wanted to know more about Sam, and what his life had been like before he moved to Granford. But she also wanted to keep an eye on Derek, who had gone storming out of the building. Who knew where he would go, what kind of trouble would he get into? Maybe he wasn’t a suspect in Sam’s death, but he was still capable of making trouble for Nicky and Brian. She settled for a compromise. “Listen, why don’t we go sit on the porch and talk? You need to get out of the kitchen now and then.”

Nicky saw through her ruse. “And we can make sure Derek doesn’t stir anything else up? Sure, good idea. You want something cold to drink? I’ve got iced tea with mint.”

“Sounds good to me.” Meg waited while Nicky filled a couple of glasses, then followed her out to the porch. “I like the new chairs. They suit the place.”

Nicky threw herself into one, without removing the plastic. “I want people to be able to sit out here and sip wine and eat little yummy things, you know? I want the whole dining experience to be seamless—relaxed, comfortable. Like you’re in your own home, only the food’s a whole lot better and you didn’t have to cook it or clean up.”

“It sounds like exactly the kind of place where I’d like to eat.” As Meg sipped her tea, she realized that this was the first time that she and Nicky had been alone together, without something else demanding their attention. “So, how long did you know Sam?”

“Years. I met him the first week in cooking school, before I met Brian, even,” Nicky replied. “Sam was so much fun! And it rubbed off on other people when we were all working in Boston, sometimes a bunch of us would get together in our free time and cook; Sam was usually the one who suggested it, and he’d come up with wacky themes—like go to Haymarket and bring back one item you’d never seen before, much less cooked. Or go stand on a dock when the boats came in and find out what the fishermen had caught, and try something new. And then we’d make something out of the ingredients and share. We had some disasters, but we all had a really good time.”

“Did Brian participate?”

“After a while. I think it was more to do something with me, than about the food. Brian used to be sort of shy, kind of the opposite of Sam. And he was always more into the management side. Once he suggested that we set a dollar limit on what we brought, like maybe two dollars, and see how many people we could feed well on next to no money.”

“What made you first realize that you wanted to be a chef?” Meg asked.

Nicky relaxed into her chair. “I told you I grew up in New York, right? It was just my father and me, and we ate out a lot, at wonderful restaurants. And I learned to cook young—because I wanted to, not because he was helpless. We cooked together for years, and gradually I took over. So he wasn’t exactly surprised when I told him I wanted to go to cooking school, though he wasn’t too pleased about it at first.”

“So why’d you start working in Boston, then, instead of back in New York?”

“The competition in New York is wicked. Boston used to be kind of stodgy, but in the past decade or so they’ve really turned around the food scene, so I thought I’d catch that wave, get in on the ground floor rather than butting heads at all the New York restaurants. And the cooking school had better connections with the Boston restaurants. So then we all—me and Brian and Sam—moved to Boston together after.”

“Did you always know Sam was gay?”

Nicky glanced at her. “Of course. He didn’t hide it. It was just part of who he was. Nobody cared.”

“Did you ever wish he wasn’t?”

Nicky turned in her chair to face Meg. “You mean, then the two of us might’ve . . . ? No! He was a friend, but, not to speak ill of the dead, I couldn’t imagine living with the guy. He was
so
high energy! I am, too, and the two of us together would have been a disaster. Brian—he’s the opposite. He grounds me. He calms me down when I start bouncing off walls. He’s good for me.”

“You two sound like a good fit.” Meg wondered briefly if an outsider would say the same about her and Seth. Seth was outgoing, relaxed but energetic at the same time. He liked people, and people liked him. She was more shy, more reserved; it was harder for her to make friends. She gained a lot from his companionship, but what did she have to offer him?

Apparently Nicky was on the same wavelength. “How about you and Seth?”

Meg sighed. “I’ve only known him a few months, and I’m not the kind of person to rush into things. And I guess I worry that I’m taking advantage of him—I mean, he’s introduced me to half the town already, and he’s a great builder and plumber, and he really cares about Granford. Sometimes I feel like a leech.”

“He cares about you,” Nicky stated bluntly.

Meg wrestled with conflicting emotions. Some silly girlish part of her wanted to ask why Nicky thought that. A more mature and responsible part declared that she really didn’t want to look too closely at whatever their relationship was and where it might be going. She dragged her attention back to Nicky’s plight. “Do you know how long Derek’s staying?”

Nicky shrugged. “I don’t think long. He really hates the country, so I suspect that his whole trip out here was mostly for show, so that we’d all know how much he’s hurting. But now he’s had his little adventure—I’m sure he’ll regale anyone who will listen with the story of being tossed into jail by the yokel police officer. And I do think he loved Sam, in his way. But I’ll be glad to see the last of him!”

“Just can’t wait to get rid of me, eh?” Derek said, sauntering around the corner of the building.

Nicky stood up abruptly. “Eavesdroppers deserve what they hear, Derek. Meg, I’ve got some more dishes to test out.” She stormed into the building.