Free Red Delicious Death by Sheila Connolly Page B

course, Sam was an outsider, too. It certainly would be much tidier if they had kept it in their little outsider circle.
    Art was still talking. “You’re the one who brought them to Granford, right, Meg?”
    Meg nodded reluctantly. “A friend of mine from Boston knew them. She called me and said that a young couple was looking for a place out here to open a restaurant, using local products. They’d checked the obvious places, Northampton and Amherst, and decided they couldn’t afford either of them, so I told Frances Clark, and she found some places in Granford for them to look at. They loved the Stebbins house as soon as they saw it, and the deal went through quickly.”
    “Was Sam Anderson part of the deal?”
    “You mean, did he put money up? He was a working partner, at least. I think Nicky said he chipped in what he could, but I don’t know whose names are on the deed. I gather most of the money came from a wedding present from Nicky’s father. I just did a friend of a friend a favor, putting them together with a real estate broker. And I thought Granford could use a decent restaurant.” Meg was having trouble controlling her voice. Sam, dead? He had seemed so vital, so enthusiastic, when he had stopped by.
    “Meg,” Seth said gently, “Art isn’t accusing you of anything. You acted with the best of intentions, and I’m sure everything was aboveboard.”
    “Sorry,” Meg said, contrite. “I guess I’m feeling kind of defensive.”
    “Meg, I didn’t mean to point any fingers at you,” Art said. “Or at Nicky and Brian. They seem like good kids. I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here. And I’m sure Detective Marcus will be asking the same kinds of questions.”
    “And I’m sure he’ll find an excuse to badger me,” Meg replied. “For the record, as far as I know, Nicky, Brian, and Sam are exactly what they say they are: nice young people who want to start a business in a small town, a town that can really use the business. I have no idea why Sam is dead, or who would have wanted to kill him.” Meg glanced briefly at Bree, who gave her a small nod.
    Bree had been quietly following the conversation, until now. “Chief, Sam was gay,” Bree said flatly. “I saw him around a couple of Northampton bars I’ve heard about. I don’t know if he hooked up with anybody—he’s only been here a couple of weeks, right? But that’s not a motive to kill anybody around here, is it?” Bree challenged the police chief.
    Art responded, “Of course not, but that’s something to check out. Not that Anderson was killed because of his sexual preferences, but it’s possible he got mixed up with the wrong person over there. Could he have been meeting someone out at Kellogg’s? He wouldn’t have a lot of privacy, living over the restaurant with Nicky and Brian.”
    “So he went looking for a nice private field?” Bree scoffed.
    Meg intervened. “Bree, I don’t think that’s what Art meant.” Bree subsided, but she still looked stormy.
    “You going to tell Marcus?” Bree asked.
    Art sighed. “I think I have to, but I don’t have to tell him you told me, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
    “So we should expect a visit from our favorite detective?” Meg asked, not without bitterness.
    “Probably just a formality, Meg. Like I said, you knew all three of them.” Art checked his watch, then stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. I’ll let you know if I hear anything new.”
    Meg stood, too. “Thanks for the barbecue and the food. What do I owe you?”
    Art stepped back in mock dismay. “For shame, Meg—can’t you accept a simple gift? Didn’t cost much. And I’ll make it back in cheesy jokes about ‘grilling my suspects.’ ”
    “Don’t you dare! All right, thank you for the gift. It was very thoughtful of you, and I will think of you every time I grill something.”
    Meg said good-bye and watched Art pull out of the driveway, then rejoined Bree and Seth, who were