Free One Bad Apple by Sheila Connolly

man. The plumber just found it. Him. Seth Chapin. He’s here now. Right. No, I know it wasn’t there yesterday.The tank was just installed yesterday. I don’t know who you need to send, but just do it, please.”
    She put the phone down and stared at nothing for a moment. Then she shook herself and, pulling on her coat, made her way out the back door. When she sat down on the step next to Seth, she was surprised to find she was trembling, which seemed silly. She hadn’t even seen the body.
    “They coming?” Seth said without looking at her.
    “I guess. Who … how long … ?” She fumbled for the right question.
    Seth looked down at his hands, hanging between his knees. “I’m going to guess that this wasn’t an accident or a suicide. Which means it’s a homicide, and that means it’ll involve the state police in Northampton, the county seat. But the police chief’ll be here first, since he’s only a mile or so away.”
    “Ah.” Meg couldn’t think of anything better to say, so they sat silently, contemplating the gash in the driveway, and the tank, and the dark hole in the top, and what lay inside. She was startled when Seth stood up abruptly.
    “Well, we’ve got company,” he said. “Here’s where the fun starts.”
    Meg dragged her eyes away from the trench to see a police car pulling into her driveway. It stopped, and a rangy man in uniform stepped out of the car, buttoning his coat. He seemed to be in no hurry: he looked up at the house, then at Seth and Meg, then at the hole in the driveway. After completing his thorough survey of the scene, the officer walked over to the back door.
    “Seth.” He nodded before turning to Meg. “You Ms. Corey?”
    Meg stood up and held out her hand. “Yes, Meg Corey. I moved here last month.”
    The officer took her hand and shook it briefly. “Art Preston, Granford chief of police. Nice place you’ve got. So, where’s our victim?”
    Seth pointed across the driveway. “In the septic tank. I’m the one who found him.”
    “Ah.” The officer turned and once again scanned the scene before approaching the crater. “New installation?”
    Seth moved to stand beside him. “Yeah. It went in yesterday. The old one was shot to hell. Jake didn’t have time to fill in the trench yesterday. He was going to come back this morning.”
    “Don’t suppose you want to confess to stuffing the body in there when you hooked it up?”
    “Sorry, Art, it wasn’t me. You want to take a look now?”
    The chief grimaced. “Let’s wait for the ME and the rest of the team. Detective’s on his way from Northampton. I don’t want to mess with the scene any more than necessary, not that it’s going to make a rat’s ass worth of difference. Jake dig the hole?” Chief Preston pulled a notebook out of his pocket and opened it to a new page.
    “Yeah.”
    “Ah.” Chief Preston made a note.
    “Chief?” Meg’s voice sounded feeble to her own ears. “You have any idea who it might be? I mean, is anybody missing?”
    “Can’t say, ma’am. Man can’t have been there more’n twenty-four hours. Right, Seth?”
    Seth nodded, but then Meg interrupted. “Less than that—I was here until after dinner.”
    The chief made another note. “And you went out after that?”
    “Yes, to the historical society meeting.” Where plenty of people saw me , Meg reflected. “I arrived home about ten.”
    “You didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary?”
    “No. It was dark, and I came in by the front door. I didn’t go anywhere near the trench.”
    They all stood silently for a moment, until Meg asked, “What happens now?”
    “We wait for the state crime scene unit—they need to get pictures. And the medical examiner, of course. Maybe you’d rather wait inside, ma’am?”
    Meg couldn’t decide whether she should go inside: she was sure she didn’t want to see whatever it was they were going to pull out of the septic tank, but on the other hand, the police chief, who