A Killer Crop Read Free Page A

would be coming by this early? “I’ll get that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she headed for the front of the house.
    She checked the peephole of her front door and was astounded to find Detective William Marcus of the state police standing on her doorstep. She opened the door quickly. “Good morning, Bill ...” At the expression on his face, she surmised that the camaraderie of the prior evening, when they had shared a table at the restaurant opening, had evaporated. “Detective Marcus. What brings you here so early? Everything okay over at the restaurant?” Nicky and Brian had had enough trouble getting their new business under way, and she didn’t want to see them suffer any setbacks now.
    “Meg.” He nodded once in reply. “Is your mother’s name Elizabeth Corey? Mrs. Phillip Corey?”
    “Yes,” Meg said, mystified. “Why do you ask?”
    “I need to talk to her on a matter of official business. Would you happen to know how to reach her? There’s no response on her cell phone.”
    “As a matter of fact, she’s sitting at my kitchen table at the moment. What’s this all about?”
    Detective Marcus relaxed almost imperceptibly. “I need to speak with her. Her phone number was the last one dialed by a dead man.”

2

    For a moment Meg wondered if she’d heard Detective Marcus correctly. The “dead” part came through loud and clear. But where did her mother fit in? Why would anyone local have her mother’s phone number? Obviously, the simplest way to find out would be to ask her.
    “Come this way,” she told Marcus, who followed her toward the back of the house. When they entered the kitchen, Elizabeth looked up, mildly curious. “Mother,” Meg began, “this is Detective William Marcus of the state police, from Northampton. He’s asked to talk to you.”
    Meg watched her mother’s face carefully, but saw no more than slight confusion and gracious composure. “I can’t imagine why you would want to talk to me, but I’ll be perfectly happy to answer any of your questions. Please, sit down.” Elizabeth waved a hospitable hand toward an empty chair. “Meg, perhaps you could pour some more coffee?”
    Meg was silently amused at her mother’s automatic assumption of the role of hostess. She looked at Marcus, who nodded slightly. She took the pot, filled a new mug for him, then refilled hers and her mother’s before sitting down.
    “What would you like to know—Detective Marcus, is it?” Elizabeth asked.
    Marcus pulled a small notebook from his pocket. “You’re Mrs. Elizabeth Corey, correct?”
    “Yes,” Elizabeth acknowledged.
    “And you and your husband, Phillip, live in Montclair, New Jersey?”
    “That’s correct.”
    “When did you arrive in Massachusetts?”
    “I drove up Saturday morning. I arrived in time for a late lunch.”
    Detective Marcus went on in a neutral tone of voice, “What was the purpose of your trip, Mrs. Corey?”
    “May I ask why you want to know?” Elizabeth parried.
    Marcus paused, choosing his words—or letting Elizabeth stew. “Your phone number was found in the recent-call list on a cell phone found in the pocket of a Daniel Weston, whose body was discovered early this morning in Amherst.”
    Meg watched with apprehension as the color drained from her mother’s face, but Elizabeth’s gaze never left Marcus’s face. “Daniel? He’s dead? Oh my God, what happened?”
    “I take it you knew Mr. Weston?”
    “I did. For more than half my life, in fact. How did he die?”
    Meg’s radar pricked up: Marcus wouldn’t be sitting in her kitchen now if this Daniel Weston had died a natural death. But where did her mother fit in the equation?
    “I’ll get to that in a moment. How were you acquainted with him?”
    “I’ve known him since he and my husband were in graduate school together.”
    “Have you seen him recently?”
    Elizabeth’s chin came up slightly. “Yes, Detective, I saw him this weekend.” Her gaze flicked briefly to