Sour Apples (33 page)

“Why don’t we all just sit down and talk about it?” Art said with surprising calm.

“Just don’t expect me to make coffee for everybody,” Meg muttered. She realized her hands were shaking.

“I’ll stand, thank you,” Lauren said, keeping her distance

After a belligerent glare at everyone, Tom sat, and Art took a chair next to him. Seth and Meg took the other two chairs, and Meg pulled hers as far away from Tom’s—and as close to Seth’s—as possible. Lauren retreated as far as she could without leaving the room. She looked like she was in shock.

“All right, now,” Art began. “Seth was on the phone with me when he saw your car pull in, Ferriter. He asked me to come over, said there might be some trouble. Right, Seth?”

“Yes. Lauren, did you invite him along?”

“I did not!” Lauren protested.

“Tom, did you follow Lauren here?” Art asked.

“I didn’t need to. I knew what she was up to,” Tom retorted.

“Let’s take this one step at a time,” Art said. “Lauren came here to see Meg, and then, Tom, you arrived. What happened next?”

Meg answered. “Tom came in and started throwing his weight around, and I asked him what he knew about the murders in Granford.”

“Hello? Who made you the police, lady?” Tom protested. “Is she a deputy now, Preston? Why does she think I know anything at all about anything? What the hell are you talking about?”

“The murders of Joyce and Ethan Truesdell,” Art said. “It’s called circumstantial evidence, Tom. Let’s see. We know you had motive, because word about the shoddy land cleanup getting out could hurt the campaign—”

“Hey, why do you know about—” Tom burst out.

“—and you really don’t want that, do you?” Art continued, ignoring him. “Your old pal Rick has given you a sweetheart job, in spite of your nasty habit of getting into trouble, and you don’t want to lose that. Means? Hey, all it took was some physical strength to carry out each of those two murders, and I’ll bet you’ve got enough of that, even
though you’ve kind of gone to seed in the last few years. Opportunity? Well, we know you know the area and how to get around the back ways. You more or less keep your own schedule, don’t you? It’s not like it’s a nine-to-five gig.”

Tom glared at him. “You accusing me of something?”

“Maybe.” Art’s face hardened. “Do you have alibis for the times when the murders occurred?”

“You trying to trick me? How’m I supposed to know when they happened, if I didn’t do them?”

Art ignored Tom’s comment. “And then there’s the physical evidence.” He leaned back in his chair. “You know, the state lab is pretty good these days. Not quite like what you see on TV, but they’re working on it. I’ll bet they found something, maybe on the murder weapon, or on the crate that was found under Ethan, the one he was supposed to have used to hang himself. You know, hairs, fingerprints, what they call trace evidence.”

“Like hell. It’s a barn, isn’t it? Full of crap. Dirty.”

“The houses somebody broke into weren’t dirty. Somebody was apparently looking for something. Somebody broke the lock on the back door of one of them and went through every drawer in the place. Somebody left fingerprints. Just a few. It’s hard to sort through papers wearing gloves, isn’t it, Tom?”

“I want a lawyer,” Tom said in a snarl and then shut up.

Art nodded as if in approval. “Good idea, Tom. You’ll need one. Guess it’s time to call the state police.” He stood up and fished his cell phone out of a buttoned pocket, keeping one eye on Tom as he punched in the number.

Tom didn’t say anything, sitting with his arms crossed, avoiding everyone’s eyes. He didn’t speak at all in the time it took for a state police car to arrive from Northampton. The rest of them were reluctant to say anything, and Meg ended up making coffee after all, just to keep busy. Her mind kept churning: Tom hadn’t really admitted to anything. Had Art been bluffing? Was there any physical
evidence? And how would he know—would the state police have shared that information with him? But she couldn’t ask, not with Tom sitting in their midst.

When the state car arrived, Detective William Marcus was driving, Meg noted from the window. He was accompanied by another officer in the front seat. Art escorted Tom out of the house, holding him firmly by the arm; when he reached the car where the detective waited, he pulled Marcus aside, leaving Tom, looking like a stubborn kid, to the other officer, who maneuvered Tom into the backseat of the cruiser. The conversation between Art and Marcus went on for a couple of minutes, and in the end, Art stepped back, and Marcus came to the kitchen door, where Meg let him in.

“Chapin, you said you have information for me?”

“I do, and you need to hear it if you’re taking Tom Ferriter in. I can follow you back to Northampton now.”

“All right.” Marcus’s gaze swept the room, registering in Meg and Lauren. “Ladies. Don’t go far—I may want to talk with you, depending on what we decide to charge Tom Ferriter with.”

He returned to the car, and Meg heard the engine start up. She turned to Seth. “You think Tom really did it? Killed them both?”

“Probably,” Seth said quietly. “He’s a more likely suspect than Rick. I’ll share what we know, and then we can step back. If there’s more evidence to be found, Marcus will find it.”

Art came back into the kitchen, looking surprisingly cheerful. “I don’t usually get to play scenes like that one,” he said.

“How much did you—or the state police—have on Tom?” Seth asked.

“You mean, was I making it up? Not entirely—Marcus has been keeping me in the loop on this one. There’s enough to give him some leverage when he talks to him. Besides, I don’t think Tom’ll have the smarts to keep his mouth shut.
He’s not the brightest bulb in the pack, and unfortunately, he’s been headed down this path for a long time.”

Meg turned to find Lauren still leaning against the counter, staring at the cell phone in her hand. “Oh, God, what am I going to tell Rick?” she said, mainly to herself.

“I’d say you don’t tell him squat,” Art said firmly. “He’s under suspicion, too, remember? Let’s see which way Tom jumps first.”

“But he’s going to want to know…” Lauren looked from face to face, then straightened up. “You’re right. I can’t fix this.” With that she shut her phone off and stuffed it in her bag. “Now, will you please explain to me what’s been going on?”

“Will you believe us now?” Meg asked gently.

“Yes, I promise. I’m sorry—I didn’t want to believe that Rick could have anything to do with…any part of this. I mean, murder? Maybe the other stuff, years ago.”

“To be fair,” Art pointed out, “we still don’t know that Rick’s guilty of anything. We need to hear his side of the story.”

“Of course,” Meg said. “By the way, you showed up in the nick of time, Art.”

Art smiled. “Just doin’ my job, ma’am. Looked to me like Seth had things under control anyway. Glad I didn’t miss the fun.”

“The story, please?” Lauren said plaintively. “In the slim chance that I’ll be able to salvage anything from this, like my pride?”

Since Lauren had already heard the first part of the story, Meg and Seth filled her in on their talk with Marvin, outlining the history of the cleanup. Lauren looked increasingly unhappy.

“So you believe that Rick knew back then that the job hadn’t been done right?” she asked.

Meg shook her head. “It’s not clear. All Marvin told us was that Rick urged him to get the job done and that there was a promotion in it for him. That could be interpreted more than one way. It could have been completely innocent, or it could have been a ‘nod-nod, wink-wink’ situation, nudging Marvin to do whatever was necessary.”

“And now you’re saying that if Rick hadn’t decided to run, those two people would still be alive?” Lauren said slowly. “They were killed to keep this quiet?”

“That’s the only explanation that makes sense to me,” Meg said. “If word got out, Rick, or at least his company, would probably still be on the hook for finishing what they started with the cleanup, but the company’s a lot bigger and
more successful now, and it probably wouldn’t hurt them much. But I’ll admit that it’s a big jump from that to murder.”

“Okay, bottom line: do you really believe that Rick Sainsbury had anything to do with the killings?” Lauren demanded, looking at each person in turn.

Art said, “How did Tom Ferriter get involved with the campaign? Who was in charge of recruiting volunteers, or hiring?”

“Any of you ever been involved with a federal campaign?” Lauren asked. “Maybe you think that there’s a structure and a plan in place, but in reality, sometimes things just kind of happen. Rick recruited a bunch of his old buddies and then handed them to me as a done deal.”

Seth nodded. “Art, I told you that Rick called on some of the Granford football team from his glory days—Tom and a few others. I’m sure Lauren had the details about Rick’s illustrious career in the press kit or whatever you call it. Pictures of the golden boy as quarterback always sell well with voters.”

“So, come clean, Seth—what’s your beef with Rick?” Lauren challenged. “I think you owe me that much.”

Seth sighed. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t think it was fair to impose my personal opinion on the campaign, but I do think it goes to his character. In a nutshell: when we were in high school, I saw Rick do something vicious to someone defenseless. It was completely unnecessary and deliberately cruel, and nobody ever called him on it. That’s why I don’t trust him. I think he’s got a mean streak, even if he covers it well now.”

Lauren was silent for a few moments, digesting what Seth had said. Then she said slowly, “I’ve never seen anything like that kind of anger from Rick in the time I’ve known him, and that includes some pretty stressful situations. Maybe you misinterpreted what you saw. Or even if you didn’t, aren’t you willing to admit the possibility that a person can change? Especially since high school?”

“I’d like to believe that, Lauren,” Seth answered, “but somehow this cover-up fits the picture. He was doing what served
him
, not what was right. And other people knew it was wrong, too, but didn’t call him out on it. But can we get back to Tom and the crew?”

“What about them?”

“What do they actually do?”

Lauren sat back. “A little of everything really—drive the candidate around, talk with the site management team when’s he’s speaking somewhere, send out press releases, collect signatures, take pictures. It depends on their skills. Roles aren’t actually defined. Rick wanted to surround himself with people he trusted, and his pals have been sort of acting like cheerleaders, I guess—reassuring him, keeping morale up, et cetera.”

“Did you know about Tom’s arrest record?” Art asked.

Lauren shook her head. “As I said, Rick brought these guys in and more or less handed them to me and said, ‘Find something for them to do.’ I didn’t argue. Right now it’s good just to have warm bodies to do things. As we get closer to the filing and the actual run—or should I say ‘if’ now?—we may need more professionals. But let me tell you, a campaign for an unknown candidate runs on its volunteers, who are more or less slave labor. And I didn’t ask too many questions. Maybe I should have.”

Meg looked at the people gathered around the table. “Art, are we getting into any legal trouble here? I mean, talking to Lauren, looking for evidence, alibis, all that stuff?”

“I’m an officer of the law. As long as we turn over anything we’ve got to Marcus, I think we’re all right. But right now we’re just talking. Lauren, you’re willing to share whatever you tell us with Marcus, right? And you’ll encourage Rick to talk with him, too?”

“Of course. I suppose it’s too late to stop it anyway, if Tom’s involved in the murders. Listen, you guys, I really do appreciate your not taking your suspicions straight to
Detective Marcus before you had any facts. Clearly you understand that this could gut the campaign, as well as Rick’s reputation. You’ve been more than fair. But you want the truth? I still think Rick’s a good guy, and I refuse to believe that he had any knowledge of these murders, much less a hand in committing them. Can you accept that? I know you think I’ve been playing ostrich about this, and maybe I have. But will you let Rick give you his side?”

“Why don’t we all go straight to the detective’s office in Northampton and give him what we’ve got? He can decide what to do with it,” Art said.

“Good idea,” Seth said. “Lauren, can you get Rick to meet us there?”

“Now? Let me give him a call.” She strode into the dining room, cell phone in hand.

Meg looked at her companions. “Think he’ll do it?”

Art was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “If he’s smart, he will. But I’ll be he brings a lawyer along. Covering up the botched cleanup is one thing, but murder? He’d better get this cleared up ASAP, if he still thinks he’s running for Congress.”

Lauren returned. “He wasn’t happy about it, but he says he’ll meet you in Northampton in under an hour, as soon as he can get out of the luncheon he’s at.”

So there was no turning back now, Meg thought. “Lauren, there’s one more thing, and no doubt Marcus will want the same information. You keep Rick’s schedule, right?”