Read Online Golden Malicious (Apple Orchard Mystery) by Sheila Connolly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sheila Connolly
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Happy hunting. Or not.”
They split up. Meg made a good-faith effort to see through the canopy to the central tree trunks, but there were simply too many leaves in the way to spot a half-inch hole. It had been near miraculous that she had found that one insect at all. Perhaps a bird, startled by people walking around, had dropped it just after killing it?
After half an hour Meg gave up looking and wandered back toward the parking area. Passing through the trees was not difficult—someone had kept the underbrush cut down, maybe to reduce the fire hazard. The logging crew? Was that part of their job? She had no idea how far the woods extended, in any direction. Had David Clapp known this particular site? Had he been here with a team, or had he been sent ahead to scout out trees? How did anyone decide which trees to cut? And who decided? Jonas? The logging company? Was it supply and demand? Good forest maintenance, to eliminate the big, old trees so that younger ones had a chance? There was so much she didn’t know.
She was first to arrive back at their cars, but Seth and Christopher also emerged from different directions within a few minutes. “Anything?” she called out when she saw them.
Christopher nodded. “I found exit holes, although no further insects. You, Seth?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“Well, I thank you for your efforts. Sadly, what I’ve found is enough for it to be incumbent upon me to set the wheels in motion and report this find.”
“And then what?” Meg asked.
“Various government agencies will step in. I’ll keep you informed, should anything else turn up.”
“Thanks, and thanks for the advice on my orchard yesterday.”
“My pleasure, my dear. Your orchard is in good hands. Seth, good to see you again.” He raised a hand in farewell, then got into his car and drove off, leaving Meg and Seth alone in the parking area.
“Well, that was an interesting way to spend an afternoon—looking for tiny holes in the tops of trees,” Meg said wryly. “At least we were out of the hot sun. Who would have thought?”
“Life is full of surprises. Shall we head back?”
When they were on the road again, Meg said, “You know, the way Christopher describes it, a lot of this insect program—what do I call it? An insect watch?—seems based on the goodwill of the community. And that assumes the community is aware at all. I mean, almost any one of us could see something and never give it a second thought, and yet it could be a pest that could bring down a whole sector of the agricultural market or local forests. I didn’t know, and I’m in the business! What about your ordinary Joe or Jane Citizen, who is clueless and doesn’t much like creepy-crawlies anyway?”
“You’ve got a point there, Meg. I know about the kind of pests that affect buildings, like carpenter ants or powderpost beetles, and of course termites, but I couldn’t identify a vegetable pest even if I bit into it.”
“Exactly. And even if you do find something you think is suspicious, who do you tell? Do you try to capture the insect? Is a picture good enough?”
“I have no idea. I guess we’ll have to see what Christopher tells us.”
7
When Meg and Seth pulled into Meg’s driveway, Art Preston was leaning against the fence talking to Meg’s goats, Dorcas and Isabel, and his car was parked in the drive. Meg climbed out and gathered up several bags of vegetables. They’d stopped off at the farmer’s market on their way back.
“Hi, Art,” she called out. “Getting your goat fix?”
He gave Dorcas and Isabel one last pat each, then strolled over. “I was having an intelligent conversation. They’re good listeners.”
“More likely they’re hungry and they were hoping you were hiding something tasty. What brings you here?”
“Marcus was kind enough to share reports on your late logger, and I thought I’d drop off copies on the way home.”
“He’s not
my
logger, thank goodness. I’m surprised
They split up. Meg made a good-faith effort to see through the canopy to the central tree trunks, but there were simply too many leaves in the way to spot a half-inch hole. It had been near miraculous that she had found that one insect at all. Perhaps a bird, startled by people walking around, had dropped it just after killing it?
After half an hour Meg gave up looking and wandered back toward the parking area. Passing through the trees was not difficult—someone had kept the underbrush cut down, maybe to reduce the fire hazard. The logging crew? Was that part of their job? She had no idea how far the woods extended, in any direction. Had David Clapp known this particular site? Had he been here with a team, or had he been sent ahead to scout out trees? How did anyone decide which trees to cut? And who decided? Jonas? The logging company? Was it supply and demand? Good forest maintenance, to eliminate the big, old trees so that younger ones had a chance? There was so much she didn’t know.
She was first to arrive back at their cars, but Seth and Christopher also emerged from different directions within a few minutes. “Anything?” she called out when she saw them.
Christopher nodded. “I found exit holes, although no further insects. You, Seth?”
“I can’t be sure.”
“Well, I thank you for your efforts. Sadly, what I’ve found is enough for it to be incumbent upon me to set the wheels in motion and report this find.”
“And then what?” Meg asked.
“Various government agencies will step in. I’ll keep you informed, should anything else turn up.”
“Thanks, and thanks for the advice on my orchard yesterday.”
“My pleasure, my dear. Your orchard is in good hands. Seth, good to see you again.” He raised a hand in farewell, then got into his car and drove off, leaving Meg and Seth alone in the parking area.
“Well, that was an interesting way to spend an afternoon—looking for tiny holes in the tops of trees,” Meg said wryly. “At least we were out of the hot sun. Who would have thought?”
“Life is full of surprises. Shall we head back?”
When they were on the road again, Meg said, “You know, the way Christopher describes it, a lot of this insect program—what do I call it? An insect watch?—seems based on the goodwill of the community. And that assumes the community is aware at all. I mean, almost any one of us could see something and never give it a second thought, and yet it could be a pest that could bring down a whole sector of the agricultural market or local forests. I didn’t know, and I’m in the business! What about your ordinary Joe or Jane Citizen, who is clueless and doesn’t much like creepy-crawlies anyway?”
“You’ve got a point there, Meg. I know about the kind of pests that affect buildings, like carpenter ants or powderpost beetles, and of course termites, but I couldn’t identify a vegetable pest even if I bit into it.”
“Exactly. And even if you do find something you think is suspicious, who do you tell? Do you try to capture the insect? Is a picture good enough?”
“I have no idea. I guess we’ll have to see what Christopher tells us.”
7
When Meg and Seth pulled into Meg’s driveway, Art Preston was leaning against the fence talking to Meg’s goats, Dorcas and Isabel, and his car was parked in the drive. Meg climbed out and gathered up several bags of vegetables. They’d stopped off at the farmer’s market on their way back.
“Hi, Art,” she called out. “Getting your goat fix?”
He gave Dorcas and Isabel one last pat each, then strolled over. “I was having an intelligent conversation. They’re good listeners.”
“More likely they’re hungry and they were hoping you were hiding something tasty. What brings you here?”
“Marcus was kind enough to share reports on your late logger, and I thought I’d drop off copies on the way home.”
“He’s not
my
logger, thank goodness. I’m surprised
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