Free One Bad Apple by Sheila Connolly Page A

couldn’t be more than ten years her senior, was treating her like she was a fragile flower of womanhood. Seth still looked unnerved by his gruesome discovery. The police chief just looked thoughtful. She stayed put.
    Five minutes later an unmarked van pulled into her driveway and parked behind the police car. A stocky gray-haired man climbed out and approached the group.
    “Hey, Art, Seth. What’ve you got for me? And who’s this nice young lady?”
    Much as she appreciated being called “young,” Meg thought she ought to assert her rights on the scene. “I’m Meg Corey, and I’m the new owner.” Meg was getting tired of trying to explain the ownership, so she decided to keep it simple. “You’re the medical examiner?”
    The man nodded briskly. “That’s me. Samuel Eastman, at your service. I heard the Tuckers left, but I didn’t know anyone was here. What a mess, eh?”
    Meg summoned up a faint smile. “Well, the septic system was a goner, but the body’s new.”
    “We’d better take a look.” He went back to his van, rummaged around, and emerged a few moments later with a mask and latex gloves, which he pulled on. Feeling useless, Meg went back to the steps again and watched as the three men went over to the trench and stared into it. They conferred, their expressions serious and intent. Then the ME knelt and poked around the depths of the septic tank, inserting his arm deep into the opening. He emerged clutching something triumphantly, and Meg guessed it was the victim’s wallet. Still gloved, the ME opened it, reached in, and extracted a driver’s license.
    After a word to the other men, Seth came over and sat next to her again. “You okay?”
    Meg nodded. “So far. You know who it is?”
    “Chandler Hale.”

7

    Interesting , Meg thought. The world seemed to be rotating clockwise, and there were green sparkling spots on the fringes of her vision. Did this mean she was going to faint? She had never done it, so she had no basis for comparison. Chandler Hale was lying—or did she mean floating?—dead in her new septic tank. It was a lot to take in. Snap out of it, Meg!
    The spots cleared, the whirling slowed. Seth was watching her, clearly concerned. Meg tried to summon up a smile. “It’s okay, Seth. I’m not going to pass out on you. Are you sure it’s Chandler?”
    “That’s what the ID says, although since he’s facedown we won’t know for sure until we get him out of there. We’re going to wait for the detective for that.” He hesitated, as if wondering how to phrase his next question. “You knew him?”
    Meg laughed, without humor. “You could say that. Until about six months ago, we were … seeing each other, in Boston. Wait a minute—you knew him?”
    “He is, or I guess he was , heading up the Granford Grange project. I’m on the Granford Board of Selectmen, and we’ve been involved from the beginning.”
    “Small world. I don’t suppose you happened to notice how he died? Like is there a stake through his heart or something?”
    “Sorry. It’s kind of dark in there, and I admit I didn’t want to look too closely. I didn’t see any blood, though. The ME will take him away and figure it out.”
    Meg fought a hysterical giggle. “Poor Chandler. He was always so … fastidious. He would be appalled by this.”
    Chandler, dead. Someone she knew, had known well. Someoneshe had seen only two days earlier—and someone with whom she had parted on less-than-happy terms. Someone who might possibly have been killed right here. Why would anyone kill Chandler? And why here?
    Seth was still watching her. “I’m sorry.”
    “Why?”
    “I mean, I’m sorry he’s dead. And I’m sorry it had to be here that he was found.”
    Something about his tone made Meg look at him curiously. “You didn’t like him much, did you? But I don’t suppose you killed him.”
    “No, of course not. And by the way, if I had killed him, I wouldn’t have dumped the body in your lap. Besides,