One Bad Apple by Sheila Connolly

others took their cue from him. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat, focusing on the detective.
    He spoke quickly. “The ME has suggested a possible identity for the victim, based on identification found on the body, and Chapin here has confirmed it.”
    Meg’s stomach unclenched; she hadn’t realized that she had been dreading looking at Chandler, dead. She’d have to thank Seth later.
    The detective was still talking. “Did you know Chandler Hale?”
    Meg folded her hands in front of her on the table. “Yes. We had a personal relationship when I lived in Boston, and we were professional colleagues.”
    “You a banker?” the detective asked. “Did you know why he was in Granford?”
    “I previously worked for a bank in Boston. But I haven’t been here very long, and I’ve had little contact with the rest of the town, so I was unaware of the development project until the other day, when Chandler showed up here.”
    “He came here?” the detective asked.
    “Yes, with his assistant. He said he was looking for the former tenants. He was surprised to find me here. We had dinner together Monday.”
    “Here?”
    “No, we drove to Amherst.”
    “So you two went out. What time did you get back?”
    “About nine, I think.”
    “And then he left?”
    “Yes, Detective, he did. I did not invite him in. We had a disagreement at the restaurant, and I asked him to drive me home. I didn’t see him after that.” Meg wondered if she should be angry about what the detective might—or might not—be insinuating, and she decided to turn the tables. “I assume you’re going to check if anyone saw him the next day?”
    “You said something about an assistant?”
    “Yes. Lucinda something, I forget the last name. We spoke only briefly. But she should know what Chandler’s schedule was on Tuesday.”
    The detective made a note, then turned his attention to Seth. “You installed the septic tank, right?”
    “Yes. It went in yesterday. I had a guy coming to fill the trench this morning, but Meg called to say she was having problems again, so I came over to check it out and found Hale.”
    Detective Marcus was silent for a few moments, making some more notes. Seth and Art shifted in their chairs but didn’t say anything. Finally the sheriff looked back at Meg.
    “Who else knew about the installation?”
    Meg stared at him. “I don’t know.”
    “Where were you yesterday?”
    “Here, mostly. Once the tank was installed, I cleaned up, had something to eat, and went to a historical society meeting in town after dinner. I returned about ten.”
    “Did you notice if the hole had been disturbed at all?”
    “No. It was dark when I came back, and I went straight inside through the front door.”
    “But you knew it was going to be filled in this morning.”
    “Yes, because Seth told me. Look, can I ask what happens now?”
    “We’re waiting for the forensic team. They’ll want to see the body in situ, and then they’ll extract it and process it. I expect they’ll want to drain the tank and look for any further evidence. Seth, you can get someone to clean it out?”
    Seth nodded. “Sure. Your team will have to tell us what they need. But it’s only been used for a day, so it shouldn’t take long.”
    Meg realized that the detective was eyeing her with curiosity. “Did you have more questions?” she asked.
    “Ms. Corey, are you sure you’ve told us everything about your relationship with Mr. Hale?”
    “Of course.”
    “You both worked in Boston in the same profession, right? Yet you weren’t aware of his activities in Granford?”
    “My bank in Boston merged with another one last year, and I was let go last fall, so I was out of the loop. Look, I was a municipal analyst, and he was involved in corporate projects. I didn’t have anything to do with real estate or property development. And we didn’t talk much about business even when we were seeing each other. Certainly not since.”
    Seth