Red Delicious Death (13 page)

“Wow! You weren’t kidding when you said it was small. Is this all there is?”

“A couple of feed stores and gas stations along the highway, but yes, what you see is what you get.”

“And the restaurant?”

“That white brick building at the end of the green.” Meg drove slowly along the two-lane highway toward it.

Lauren looked at it critically. “Nice. Good site. Good parking, too. That’ll make a difference.” Her tone was sincere. “They aren’t going to tart it up with neon signs or anything?”

“I don’t think so.” Meg laughed.

“What’s the capacity?” Lauren asked.

“I don’t know. You can ask. They’ll be doing lunch and dinner, I think. They had to rebuild the kitchen entirely—that’s the wing off to the left. It was a residence until pretty recently.”

“I can see the potential. Do they know what the local market can handle?”

Meg pulled into the parking lot. “I think they’re still working out details about the menu and stuff like pricing. They live upstairs here, so they should be around.”

The inner door was open behind the outer screen when Meg and Lauren walked onto the porch. Meg called out, “Anybody home?”

Nicky came down the stairs, still toweling dry her hair. “Oh, hi, Meg—you’re out and about early today. What’s up?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you, but I thought you’d like to meet Lauren Converse. She’s visiting this weekend, and she wanted to see what you’ve done so for.”

“Lauren, Lauren . . . oh, you’re
that
Lauren!” Nicky’s face lit up. “You know Jeremy! In fact, you’re the reason we’re here. Please, come in. Brian?” she yelled up the stairs.

“Yo!” Brian answered from somewhere.

“We’ve got company!” Nicky yelled back. Then she turned back to Meg and Lauren. “I was just going to make some breakfast. You hungry?”

“You have coffee?” Lauren said.

“Sure do. Come on back.” She led the way to the kitchen.

Once there, while Nicky bustled around starting coffee, whisking eggs, slicing bread, Lauren looked around at the kitchen. “Nice. Efficient. How many are you planning to serve?”

“We figure we can accommodate maybe forty diners max in the big rooms up front, maybe another twenty in the smaller ones. Two seatings, at night. We’ve got three rooms, and we want to use the parlors with the fireplaces, but we can shut off one or two if things are slow, or use them for private functions.”

Lauren nodded. “Sounds good. I like the place. What are you doing about decorating?”

“Arguing, mostly,” Nicky said with a grin. “It’s the last thing we’re going to worry about, after we get all the structural stuff done, and get the permits—and see how much money we have left. We had some ideas when we arrived, but we’re kind of letting the place speak to us.”

“Simple works here. You going to have a liquor license?”

“We hope so. We’ve put in the applications, but I gather we need some approvals from the town. We’re talking to them next week.” Nicky set plates of French toast in front of Meg and Lauren, then went to the kitchen door. “Brian? Food’s up.”

Lauren dug into her food. “Oh, Nicky, this is great. Or maybe it’s just all this fresh country air.” She sneaked a glance at Meg, who swatted her. “What style of food are you planning?”

“Local American. Good quality, simple preparation. We’re trying to line up vendors, but we’re still trying to figure out who to talk to. Seth’s been a big help, but he’s pretty busy.”

“Ah, Seth again. He does get around, doesn’t he?”

“He’s doing the construction here,” Meg said mildly. “That’s his job, you know.”

“Right.” Lauren turned her attention back to her food, which was disappearing rapidly.

Meg looked at Nicky. “How are you doing with vendors?”

“Working on it. We’ve got a couple of people lined up, but we’ve been so busy here we haven’t done as much as we should.”

“I wouldn’t wait too long. I’d guess that farmers contract for their stuff as soon as they can.” Meg reminded herself that she should practice what she preached: she hadn’t found buyers for her own crop.

Brian appeared in the kitchen, and Nicky introduced him to Lauren. “And Meg says we should talk to the farmers sooner rather than later.”

Brian looked pained. “I know, I know. I’d kind of hoped the sous chef could handle that, but we haven’t got one yet.”

“Are you going to talk to the woman Seth mentioned?” Meg asked.

“She’s coming by later today. I hate to make a quick decision, but we don’t have a lot of time, so I hope she works out.”

“Seth handles personnel placement, too?” Lauren said, eyebrow arched.

“Lauren, I keep telling you, it’s a small town. Seth knows a cook who can use the job, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lauren replied skeptically, swabbing up the last of the maple syrup with her final bite of French toast. “Hey, is the syrup local?”

Nicky beamed. “Of course, from about a mile away. We snagged the last of this spring’s crop.”

“Keep it up,” Lauren said. She swallowed the last of her coffee. “Meg, what’s next?”

“I thought I’d take you over to Northampton. It’s a fun town, and then we can have lunch over there somewhere.”

“Food again? If the whole weekend is like this, I won’t fit in any of my clothes.” She stood up. “Nicky, Brian, I like your place. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

“We’ll invite you to the opening.”

“Great—I’ll be here. Meg?”

“Thanks for breakfast, guys.” Meg followed Lauren out the door. Once back in the car, she asked, “What did you really think?”

Lauren buckled her seat belt. “Good location, not a lot of competition—or from what you tell me, none, really. They’re awfully young, but high energy, and Nicky can cook, based on that breakfast. I hope their money holds out—these things always end up costing more than you expect. Is Seth cutting them a good deal on the construction?”

“I think so. I think as a selectman he wants to see this succeed. And he’ll be able to help with the local permitting.”

“And Nicky seems to know what she’s doing in the kitchen. Sometimes you can cook up a storm but not efficiently. She seems to have that covered. Too bad about her sous chef. You think this local person might have whacked him to take his job?”

“Lauren! That’s an awful thought.”

“You have to consider every angle. If there aren’t many jobs around here, people might get desperate. Maybe I’ll suggest that to the detective.”

“What, you’re still thinking of talking to him?”

“Why not? I like to see who I’m dealing with. He’s the one who called me, and here I am, in his backyard.”

“Just don’t expect me to come with you,” Meg muttered.

“You have issues with him?”

“I didn’t particularly like being considered a suspect. He didn’t even know me.”

“He got it right in the end, didn’t he?”

“With my help. I just don’t want to talk to him any more than I have to.”

“Okay, I’ll go in alone, no problem.”

“Lauren, it’s Saturday!”

“So? This is a murder case. Don’t cops work around the clock for important cases?”

“Just don’t be surprised if he isn’t there. You can leave a statement or something.”

Lauren swiveled in her seat to confront Meg. “What is your problem with this guy? You’re scared of cops? You’re hiding something? What?”

Meg sighed. Maybe she was acting irrational. “Detective Marcus and I have had some run-ins in the past. I’m not his favorite person.”

Lauren’s face fell. “Oh. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I’m going to talk to the guy.”

Meg considered. In Lauren’s current state of mind, she wasn’t sure if Lauren might do more harm than good, and Meg certainly didn’t want her to make any more trouble for Nicky and Brian. Better to keep an eye on her—or maybe she meant a muzzle—than risk Lauren making a mess of things. “I’ll come. Just let me find a parking space—it’s not easy in Northampton on a Saturday.”

Meg made a few cursory circles around the block, then gave up and headed for the municipal lot behind the main street. She was lucky to snag a space from someone leaving, and purchased a parking voucher from the vending machine, while Lauren watched with an air of amusement. Once Meg had deposited the slip in plain view on her dashboard, she said to Lauren, “Follow me.”

Lauren dutifully followed as Meg wove her way through the back of a commercial building and up a set of stairs. “Where are we going?” Lauren asked.

When they reached the sidewalk in front of the building, Meg pointed toward the ornate brownstone building in the center of town. “Town Hall, or more specifically, the annex behind it.”

“Gotcha. Cute little town here. Nice boutiques. Are we going to have time to shop, or are those apples calling you?”

“I said we’d have lunch, didn’t I? After that, we’ll see. Let’s get this over with.”

They entered the building through the side door and stopped at the guard desk. “We’re here to see Detective Marcus.”

The young, buff, and buzz-cut uniformed officer asked, “Is he expecting you?”

“No. Tell him it’s about the Anderson death in Granford.”

The officer picked up the phone and turned away to talk while Meg studied the floor. Lauren, as she could see from the corner of her eye, seemed all too eager, her foot tapping, her eyes bright. The officer hung up and said, “He’ll be right down.”

No escape now. How was she going to explain her presence here? Meg wondered. She was sure that she was the last person Marcus wanted to see today. Damn Lauren.

Meg needn’t have worried. As soon as Marcus appeared, Lauren took one look at him, assessed his evident seniority and authority, and extended her hand. “Detective Marcus? I’m Lauren Converse, from Boston. We spoke on the phone about Sam Anderson’s death?”

Meg was secretly pleased that Marcus appeared nonplussed by Lauren’s frontal assault, and actually took her hand. “Ms. Converse, there was no need for you to come all this way to talk with me.” Then he spied Meg, lurking behind Lauren, and his expression hardened. “Ms. Corey.”

“Detective Marcus,” Meg replied as neutrally as she could.

Lauren slid adroitly between them. “That’s right, you know each other. I’m here visiting Meg, and I thought I’d come in and see if I could tell you anything more about Sam.”

“Ms. Converse, you told me on the phone that you had never met the man. What could you have to add?”

“Lauren, please. And you won’t know until we talk about it, will you? I can give you a better sense of the Boston community where Sam and his friends worked. After all, I feel responsible, since I was the one who sent them all out here. What do you say?”

Marcus wavered, then answered, “All right. Officer, can you give me two visitor badges, please?”

Formalities completed, Meg followed the suddenly chummy pair up a flight of stairs and to Marcus’s cluttered office. It looked as though he worked hard and didn’t worry about filing. Marcus pointed toward two wooden armchairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

They sat, and then Lauren leaned forward. “Detective, I know you’re a busy man, and I’m not here to chitchat and waste your time. But I do know something about the restaurant scene in Boston, and I want to be sure that you see Nicky and Brian and Sam in the correct context, before you make any assumptions.”

Marcus’s eyes flickered toward silent Meg. “What have you told her?”

Meg sat up straighter. “No more than she already guessed. You called her, and she figured you wouldn’t have done that unless it was a suspicious death. I don’t know any more than that, so I can’t exactly spill the beans.”

Marcus looked pained, but said nothing, only nodding once. “Ms. Converse,” he began.

“Lauren,” Lauren reminded him sweetly.

“Lauren, Sam Anderson was killed by person or persons unknown, who held him down in a pigsty until he suffocated in the mud. And if either of you says anything about what I am telling you to anyone else, I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of justice. Understood?”

Meg nodded her agreement. Lauren said, “Of course. And I do understand about discretion, Detective. But if there’s any way I can help, I’d feel terrible if I didn’t come forward. What can I tell you?”

There followed fifteen minutes of an exchange that Meg had never thought to see. Marcus recited the bare bones of the case—and Meg was surprised at how little information there was, not because Marcus and his staff hadn’t looked, but because it simply wasn’t there to find. Sam had led a completely bland life: no criminal history, no debt, no complaints against him. He had gone through college and cooking school with a solid record, and had worked steadily since. Apparently nobody had a bad word to say about him. His parents were devastated by his death, as were his many friends in Boston. None of the information pointed toward either a motive for murder or a suspect. The only crumb they gleaned was that Marcus was still looking for Sam’s most recent boyfriend, who was said to be out of the country.

Lauren corroborated what he had learned about the Boston scene and added a few details. More often she nodded sympathetically and made appropriate sounds of agreement, and Meg watched incredulously as Marcus softened bit by bit, until he appeared almost human. She kept her mouth shut, afraid to break the spell that Lauren had cast over him.

“So that ex is the only loose end to tie up, isn’t it?” Lauren said.

“Just about.” Marcus glanced at his watch, then stood up. “Sorry, but I’ve got a briefing to attend. Thank you for coming in, Lauren. Meg. I’ll see you out of the building.”

Since silence had worked so well this far, Meg stuck to it as Marcus led them back down the stairs. It wasn’t until they were out on the street that she felt free to speak. “I can’t believe it—the man may be human after all.”

Lauren flashed her a grin. “Why, whatever do you mean? He seemed perfectly nice to me. Overworked, and frustrated because he doesn’t have a lot to go on, but not the ogre you made him out to be. Do you know if he’s single?”