Rotten to the Core by Sheila Connolly Page A

Maybe lunch? Tomorrow?”
    Maybe it was the idea of another free meal, but Meg’s offer spurred Michael into something resembling enthusiasm and he nodded.
    “Good! My treat,” she added, in case he had any doubts. “Where would you like to meet?”
    “Um . . . you know the place across from the bookstore?”
    “On the way to Emily Dickinson’s house? Sure.” Emily Dickinson’s home, a block or so from the center of Amherst, was one of the town’s most treasured landmarks, and even newcomer Meg knew where to find it. The restaurant was small and shabby, but Meg seemed to remember good sandwiches and coffee there.
    “How about noon?”
    “Great. I’ll see you then.”
    “Michael?” Daphne tugged on his arm. “We should go.”
    “Oh. Right, yeah. Let’s grab some food first, okay?” He gave a shy nod to Meg, and he and Daphne moved toward the impromptu buffet. Meg realized that Daphne had said almost nothing during the whole encounter. What was her problem? Just awkward? Overcome with grief? If she was devastated by Jason’s death, it hadn’t hurt her appetite any, Meg noted, watching her fill a paper plate with cheese, bread, and slices of ham and turkey.
    She turned to find Christopher at her elbow. “I see you’ve managed to pry a few words out of Michael,” he said.
    “Yes. We’re going to meet tomorrow so he can give me his pitch for organic farming. Is that surprising? I thought that was what GreenGrow did.”
    “Oh, I do believe he’s just shy. Michael was always overshadowed by Jason. I haven’t had the pleasure of speaking to him for a while—Jason managed to establish himself as the voice of the group and didn’t encourage others to make themselves heard. Perhaps Michael will rise to his full potential now that the way is clear.”
    “Was he a disciple?”
    “You mean, was he a blind follower of Jason’s? I think not. But if you’re meeting with him, you can get a better sense of his position.” Christopher scanned the crowd, which had not grown. “Well, I suppose I should make my speech and be done with it. You don’t need to stay, unless you wish to.”
    Meg shrugged. “You go ahead. I may slip out before you’re done. But thank you for inviting me. You go give Jason a fitting farewell.”
    She watched as Christopher made his way to a podium in the corner.
    “Friends,” he began, “may I have your attention for a few moments? As you know well, the impetus for this gathering was the unfortunate death of one of our students, Jason Miller. While some of us may have had our differences of opinion with him, he was nonetheless a member of our small community, and we owe it to him to recognize his passing. As his thesis advisor, I must say I admired the sharpness of his mind and his dedication to the pursuit of his beliefs. He was not one to shrink from challenges, and . . .”
    Meg tuned out and watched the faces of the others in the room. She thought she saw traces of skepticism on several, as Christopher’s artfully crafted comments blurred the harsh edges of the truth about Jason. She moved quietly toward the open door, stepped into the hall, and was startled to find Detective Marcus standing just outside. Obviously he had been eavesdropping. He nodded to acknowledge her and then walked a few feet away. She followed.
    “Detective,” Meg said quietly. “What are you doing here?”
    “Ms. Corey,” he responded. “Just doing my duty, following up on a suspicious death. I’m a bit surprised to see you here, under the circumstances.”
    Meg lifted her chin. “I’m paying my respects to the man who was found dead on my property.” And I wanted to see who his friends were. “What did you hope to find?”
    He didn’t answer immediately, looking beyond her as people began to drift out of the room. “Miller wasn’t a very popular person, although he was well known in certain circles.”
    “With local law enforcement, you mean?”
    “No, not really. He was too smart for