crumpled up like he’d fallen.”
Meg and Seth exchanged bewildered glances. “Why there?”
Art shook his head. “Don’t know. Not much to work with, is it? Maybe he was just driving by and needed to take a leak—sorry—and that was the first place he passed.”
“Was it locked?”
“Are you asking, did he have to break in? No. What’s to steal?”
“So no physical assault. Poison?”
Seth laughed. “Somebody lured the professor to an empty cider house in order to inject him with an undetectable poison? Kind of far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“Humor me—I’m desperate.” Meg smiled at him. “Does the place have a ghost? Maybe he was scared to death.”
“Don’t mention that idea to Detective Marcus.”
“Not likely.” Meg went on, “Did he have a cell phone? Oh, that’s right—that’s how they found Mother. So he could have called for help if he thought he was having a heart attack, but didn’t. Was he robbed?”
“His wallet was in his pocket, along with his car keys,” Art replied.
“This is ridiculous!” Meg stood up and began pacing. “There’s no reason for Daniel Weston to have been there, and no way to find out why he was. Or whether my mother was with him.” Meg turned to Seth. “Seth, you went to Amherst College. Did you ever run into Professor Weston?”
“I’ve been trying to remember—I’d have to check, but I may have taken a class with him. If I did, he doesn’t stand out in my memory. Probably just as well. I could do without Marcus asking me about him.”
“Where does that leave the investigation, Art?” Meg asked.
Art sighed. “The state police are going through the usual routine—talking to his wife, his colleagues, et cetera. The only wild card, unfortunately, is your mother, Meg. I’m sure it’s all quite innocent, but an old, uh, friend shows up out of nowhere, after thirty-something years, and bingo, a day later the guy’s dead? You have to admit it looks kind of odd.”
“I know, but I refuse to believe that my mother had anything to do with his death. It’s just a strange coincidence. Or maybe Weston knew he had a terminal illness and wanted to tie up loose ends, say good-bye?”
“Maybe. But we don’t know about anything like that. If that’s true, the ME should find it, or his wife would know. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and see what turns up. Your mother’s going to be around for a few days?”
“I think so. But she’s not here—she’s staying at Seth’s sister Rachel’s B and B.”
Art looked troubled. “Did you have a fight or something?”
“Nothing like that, Art. There’s something going on with Mother, but I don’t know if it has anything to do with Daniel Weston. I’ll see what I can find out, if she’ll talk to me.”
Art hauled himself out of his chair. “I’d better get home—some back-to-school thing going on tonight. I’ll let you know if I hear anything new. Seth, I’ll see you.”
Meg watched him go. Seth stood up, then walked around behind her, and she felt his hands on her shoulders, kneading. She bent her head forward, stretched the kinks out of her neck. “God, that feels good.”
“I guess you’ve figured out by now that apple picking is hard work.”
“Isn’t that the truth? There was so much I didn’t know when I decided to get into this. But Bree says I can take some time off—something about the next batch of apples not being quite ripe. I’d better go over to Rachel’s tomorrow and see if I can smooth ruffled feathers.” Meg fell silent, enjoying the feel of Seth’s hands—until she realized she was nodding off. “Thanks for bringing Art by. It’s kind of weird, being part of whatever is going on but not in it, if you know what I mean.”
“Let’s hope it can all be explained and you and your mother can stay out of it. Listen, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’d ask you to stay for supper, but I’m bushed. Maybe we could get together tomorrow
Meg and Seth exchanged bewildered glances. “Why there?”
Art shook his head. “Don’t know. Not much to work with, is it? Maybe he was just driving by and needed to take a leak—sorry—and that was the first place he passed.”
“Was it locked?”
“Are you asking, did he have to break in? No. What’s to steal?”
“So no physical assault. Poison?”
Seth laughed. “Somebody lured the professor to an empty cider house in order to inject him with an undetectable poison? Kind of far-fetched, don’t you think?”
“Humor me—I’m desperate.” Meg smiled at him. “Does the place have a ghost? Maybe he was scared to death.”
“Don’t mention that idea to Detective Marcus.”
“Not likely.” Meg went on, “Did he have a cell phone? Oh, that’s right—that’s how they found Mother. So he could have called for help if he thought he was having a heart attack, but didn’t. Was he robbed?”
“His wallet was in his pocket, along with his car keys,” Art replied.
“This is ridiculous!” Meg stood up and began pacing. “There’s no reason for Daniel Weston to have been there, and no way to find out why he was. Or whether my mother was with him.” Meg turned to Seth. “Seth, you went to Amherst College. Did you ever run into Professor Weston?”
“I’ve been trying to remember—I’d have to check, but I may have taken a class with him. If I did, he doesn’t stand out in my memory. Probably just as well. I could do without Marcus asking me about him.”
“Where does that leave the investigation, Art?” Meg asked.
Art sighed. “The state police are going through the usual routine—talking to his wife, his colleagues, et cetera. The only wild card, unfortunately, is your mother, Meg. I’m sure it’s all quite innocent, but an old, uh, friend shows up out of nowhere, after thirty-something years, and bingo, a day later the guy’s dead? You have to admit it looks kind of odd.”
“I know, but I refuse to believe that my mother had anything to do with his death. It’s just a strange coincidence. Or maybe Weston knew he had a terminal illness and wanted to tie up loose ends, say good-bye?”
“Maybe. But we don’t know about anything like that. If that’s true, the ME should find it, or his wife would know. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and see what turns up. Your mother’s going to be around for a few days?”
“I think so. But she’s not here—she’s staying at Seth’s sister Rachel’s B and B.”
Art looked troubled. “Did you have a fight or something?”
“Nothing like that, Art. There’s something going on with Mother, but I don’t know if it has anything to do with Daniel Weston. I’ll see what I can find out, if she’ll talk to me.”
Art hauled himself out of his chair. “I’d better get home—some back-to-school thing going on tonight. I’ll let you know if I hear anything new. Seth, I’ll see you.”
Meg watched him go. Seth stood up, then walked around behind her, and she felt his hands on her shoulders, kneading. She bent her head forward, stretched the kinks out of her neck. “God, that feels good.”
“I guess you’ve figured out by now that apple picking is hard work.”
“Isn’t that the truth? There was so much I didn’t know when I decided to get into this. But Bree says I can take some time off—something about the next batch of apples not being quite ripe. I’d better go over to Rachel’s tomorrow and see if I can smooth ruffled feathers.” Meg fell silent, enjoying the feel of Seth’s hands—until she realized she was nodding off. “Thanks for bringing Art by. It’s kind of weird, being part of whatever is going on but not in it, if you know what I mean.”
“Let’s hope it can all be explained and you and your mother can stay out of it. Listen, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’d ask you to stay for supper, but I’m bushed. Maybe we could get together tomorrow
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