Red Delicious Death (14 page)

“Lauren! You would actually go out with him?”

“Why not? Well, is he?”

“I have no information about his personal life. You’re on your own.”

“Fine friend you are. So, what’s next on the agenda? Lunch, I hope? I’m starving.”

“I saw you eat breakfast barely an hour ago! You can’t be.”

“The combination of fresh air, sunshine, and the performance of my civic duty always makes me hungry. What are our choices?”

“In Northampton, anything you want. What are you in the mood for?”

Lauren studied the bustling street. “I feel like something plebian, like burgers and fries. Can this town handle that?”

“Of course—there’s a good brewpub near the parking lot.”

“Lead on!” Lauren said grandly. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself, Meg thought wryly.

It was too early for lunch, and the pub was half-empty. Meg was still trying to figure out the rhythms of the town: the college kids had gone home for the summer, and though there were plenty of local young people around, they didn’t usually eat in restaurants like this, preferring the cheaper and funkier places along the main street. She and Lauren could probably enjoy some privacy—if Lauren had anything private to say.

They took their seats and accepted menus. Then Lauren looked around the room. “This is nice. Reasonable prices, comfortable. Is this typical of the area?”

Meg laughed. “There is nothing typical about Northampton. You can find French, Italian, Mexican, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Argentinean, Tibetan—you name it, all within walking distance. But this is probably the closest to what Nicky and Brian have in mind, only they’re going for more emphasis on local foods, and less fried stuff.”

“Okay. I’m having a beer. What’s good?”

She and Meg conferred over the menu, ordered a couple of beers and sandwiches. When the waitress had taken their orders, Meg asked, “Okay, you’ve had your foray into investigation. What did you think?”

Lauren sat back in her chair and contemplated Meg. “You know, you had me expecting a monster. He’s a nice guy, actually.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Meg, he’s just doing his job, and doing it by the book. He works for the DA, you know, and he wants his cases to be airtight.”

“Why do you know who works for whom?”

“I checked online. You don’t think I go walking into things like this without doing some homework, do you? Actually I was surprised he was willing to tell us anything at all. He must be desperate.”

Lauren’s cell phone rang in the depths of her bag. She fished it out and opened it. “Hello? Oh, hi. Tonight? I think so.” She glanced at Meg and listened for a few moments. “All right, I’ll meet you then.” She closed the phone with a snap. “You know, I don’t think he ever really suspected you of anything, but you were an unknown quantity, at least in the beginning.”

“Lauren!”

“Joke! You are so not a criminal. He knows that. You know, Meg, you don’t have to be paranoid. You two
are
on the same side, and he wants to see this murder solved as much as you or anyone else does.”

“I don’t think we learned anything that we didn’t already know,” Meg said, trying to keep the petulance out of her voice. Okay, he hadn’t been hostile, but she didn’t like being chided by her friend.

“Maybe I can worm a bit more out of him over dinner,” Lauren added casually.

“You’re having dinner with him?” Meg said, incredulous.

“That was him on the phone just now. Am I supposed to say no? I’m sorry—did you want to spend more time together?”

Meg considered her conflicted emotions. On some level she still considered Marcus an adversary, and he’d been downright rude to her on more than one occasion. And she wanted her time with Lauren to try to ferret out whatever was troubling her friend. On the other hand, Lauren was a grown woman and could see whomever she wanted; and maybe she could learn something about the investigation by having dinner with the detective. “I guess we’ll have to assume he’s not married, won’t we?”

“Apparently. Are you okay with this?”

“Sure. Just as long as you loosen him up a bit. What do we know?”

Lauren sat back and ticked off points on her fingers.

“He’s talked to Nicky and Brian, of course, and checked into the finances of this deal. Sam’s death didn’t benefit them, or anybody else for that matter, financially. None of them has a lot of money, except what Nicky’s dad chipped in. He talked to the guy who owns the place where the body was found, who knows exactly nothing.”

“Jake Kellogg,” Meg said.

“Right. Anyway, this farmer guy was busy up at his barn, which is out of sight of the pig field, or whatever you call it. When he checked the pigs in the afternoon, he found the body, and the guy had been dead for a couple of hours by then. There are no neighbors with a clear view of that field—that’s one of the reasons he picked it, because nobody would be bothered by the sight or the stink. I gather pigs can really stink.”

“So I’ve heard. Not much, is it? Where are you meeting him tonight?”

“He suggested a place in Amherst. You can tell me how to find it, right?”

“Sure. We ain’t got many roads out here in the hinterlands.”

Lauren impulsively laid her hand on Meg’s. “I’m sorry—I know I came to visit you, and here I am running out on you. But he seems like a nice guy, and I don’t meet many of those. I promise I’ll fill you in on everything at breakfast. And I don’t have to be back in Boston until late, so we can go gather flowers or talk to the goats or whatever it is you do for fun.”

“It’s fine, Lauren. I guess I’m just annoyed that he likes you better than he likes me.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve got Seth.”

“I don’t mean it that way. By the way, Marcus and Seth have a history, so I wouldn’t bring up Seth’s name.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. I’ll try to be tactful as I pump the man for information. I guess it’s kind of early to seduce him?”

“Lauren!” Meg wasn’t sure whether or not Lauren was kidding.

“Okay, I’ll save that for later. Now I’m hungry.”

Their sandwiches appeared, and they spent the rest of the meal talking about unrelated things.

After lunch Meg took some small pride in showing Lauren the town of Northampton, and Lauren bought some shoes and a silver necklace. They retraced their steps to Granford and arrived back about three o’clock to find Bree and Michael in the kitchen.

“Hi, Michael,” Meg said cheerfully. “This is my friend Lauren Converse, from Boston. Lauren, Michael’s a local expert on organic agriculture.”

Lauren sent Meg a look that said “Why do I care?” and Meg smiled pleasantly.

“Hi, Michael—good to meet you,” Lauren said. “What do I need to know about organic food?”

“How long have you got?” Michael said.

Lauren leaned against the counter. “I’ll settle for the short version.”

“I deal mainly with local growers around here, help them with what they can use on their crops, and also how to market them. And I try to educate local consumers, and that includes chefs.”

“Really. Is Meg’s orchard organic?”

Michael shook his head. “No, even though I tried to convert her.”

“Lauren,” Meg protested, “apples are notoriously hard to manage, if you want unblemished fruit, which is what most buyers are looking for. I use what’s known as an integrated pest management approach, which limits the use of chemicals, but doesn’t eliminate them entirely. But that doesn’t stop Michael and me from arguing about it.”

“Listen to you!” Lauren smiled to soften her comment. “Michael, are you helping Nicky and Brian find organic foods?”

“Bree asked me about it, and I talked to Sam before . . . you know. To qualify as a true organic restaurant, you have to comply with a lot of rules, and I don’t think they’re interested in going that route. But I’m happy to put them in touch with local growers and producers.”

“What grows well around here? Don’t you have pretty hard winters?” Lauren took a seat at the table; she looked honestly interested.

Michael took a seat opposite Lauren, and Meg watched the two of them with almost maternal pride. “What doesn’t?” Michael said. “Apart from the local orchards like Meg’s, we’ve got a full range of vegetables around here. Heck, Hadley, one of the towns nearby, is well known for its asparagus crop. There’s even a farm over toward Amherst that’s growing ginger. Then you’ve got livestock—did you know that Hampshire College has a buffalo herd?”

“Wow! No, I had no idea. I come from Boston, and I shop in supermarkets. I guess I’ve seen some signs there recently for local produce, but I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about where it all comes from. I apologize for my ignorance, though I do shop at Whole Foods, if that helps.”

“Some. They still fall on the commercial end of the organic spectrum, but they’re trying.” Michael paused and checked Lauren’s expression to see if she was mocking him, but in the end he smiled. “I’m kind of enthusiastic about the whole thing. But organically grown food is better for you, and it tastes better, too. So think about it next time you go shopping, okay?”

“I will.”

“Michael, we should get going,” Bree broke in. She turned to Meg. “We’re going to catch an early movie, then get something to eat. We figured you’d be busy anyway.”

“That’s fine. You two go have fun.”

“Bye, Lauren. Nice to meet you.”

When they’d left, Lauren said to Meg, “Ah, young love. Were we ever that young?”

Meg laughed. “They’ve had their ups and downs. But I like Michael—he’s a good guy, and Bree likes him, which is what matters. And he does keep me on my toes about organic farming.”

“Ah, Meg, Meg . . . Like I said, you seem to be thriving on all of this.”

“I like learning, and I like challenges. The fact that I’m supposed to make a living doing it makes it interesting—when I’m not panicking about it.”

“I wish I could see myself making a one-eighty change like you, but I kind of like my creature comforts, not to mention an income.”

“Coming out here was my mother’s bright idea, although she had no idea what she was getting me into.”

“Has your mother seen the place since you moved here?”

“No, not yet. I’m dreading the day I pick up the phone and she announces she’s arriving the next day. No doubt it’ll be right in the middle of the busiest part of harvest season.”

“I don’t suppose she’d pitch in and help?”

“My mother? No way. Although she might take it upon herself to instruct the workers on how to get the job done more neatly and efficiently.”

“Maybe you should be proactive and invite her out at a time that works for
you
.”

“I’ll think about it. When are you supposed to be in Amherst?”

“Changing the subject, eh? Not until seven. I’d be happy just to take some time and smell the roses. Why don’t you show me the orchard?”

Meg was surprised by Lauren’s request. “Sure. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“I don’t know if I am, but I won’t know unless I look at it, right?”

“Okay, orchard it is.”

Meg led the way up the hill to the orchard and stopped, silent, to let Lauren take it in.

Lauren didn’t speak for a few moments. “So this is all yours?” she said finally.

“Fifteen acres of trees. There’s more land that goes with the house, but it’s too wet to plant.”

Lauren took a few tentative steps forward, stopping in the first row of trees. “What’s it like, owning a whole bunch of living things like this?”

Meg considered. “Scary. Reassuring. That sounds contradictory, doesn’t it? Scary because I know so many things that can go wrong before I can get a crop out of them—insects, diseases, natural disasters. But at the same time, there have been apple trees here since the seventeen hundreds, and here they are still. So they’ll hang on, no matter what I do. Maybe this year’s crop will be lousy, but there’s always next year. I told you my ancestors built this place? Well, it gives me a kind of connection with them, makes me feel more a part of the place.”

Lauren reached out to lift a branch. “Look, baby apples. What kind are they?”

“I have no idea yet. Bree might know, and Christopher certainly would. We’ve got a lot of different ones here, some heirloom. I’ll know better after they ripen.”

Lauren was quiet for several moments, and Meg let her be. Finally she said, without turning around, “I think I’ve figured out something. All this”—Lauren waved her hand across the orchard—“it seems a lot more real than what I do. I mean, you put in work—and I mean hands-on, messy work—and in the end you have a product you can touch, hold, eat. It’s real. Me, I get a piece of paper with numbers on it.”

“Is that what’s bothering you? You don’t believe in what you’re doing anymore?”

Lauren turned around then. “I don’t know if I ever did, really. I mean, it was a challenge, and it was interesting—but it was all on paper, playing with numbers. And playing politics with the competition, in-house and at other banks. A big game. You know that; you were part of it.”