The Final Tap by Amanda Flower

us about Conrad’s death?”
    I turned around to face the crowd so that I could watch their reactions as I spoke—especially the reaction of Buckley, who was now my prime suspect. In my opinion, anyone who could burn a book was capable of murder. “There’s not much to tell. Dr. Beeson was visiting Barton Farm this morning in preparation for the tree tapping class that he was to teach on the Farm tomorrow morning.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Stroud stiffen when I mentioned the class. I waited a beat to see if he would say anything. When he remained silent, I went on. “Beeson went off by himself to check another group of trees and presumably had a heart attack. My assistant and I found him and called 911.”
    â€œSo he wasn’t murdered?” someone asked.
    â€œThe police haven’t made a formal announcement,” I said, hoping that Gavin wouldn’t share what I told him earlier.
    That hope went unanswered, because Gavin stepped forward. “The police say he was murdered, and they think it was me.”
    Conversation erupted as the men discussed this latest bit of information.
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” Webber said. “My son wouldn’t do this.”
    I found his denial of Gavin’s guilt interesting, especially after the argument they’d had by the sugarhouse just a few hours ago.
    â€œWe all know they think it was him,” said a man in the back smugly. He had a short blond ponytail and a goatee.
    Gavin’s father glowered at him.
    The other man seemed unfazed. “And we all know that both you and Gavin have a reason to want Conrad Beeson dead. With him gone, you’ll be able to retain your rights to tap the trees in the park.”
    Gavin stepped forward. “Were you the one who told the police what I said to him, Daniel?”
    Daniel rocked back on his heels.
    I was beginning to wonder if the Sap and Spile club should be billed as a fight club. I’d only been there for a half hour and all I’d witnessed so far was a litany of arguments among the members. I supposed that I could cut them some slack, considering their club president had just been killed, but I had a feeling that many of their meetings went like this, murder or no murder.
    Daniel glared at me. “Tonight’s meeting is a joke. We should have canceled it the moment we heard about Conrad’s death. It’s gotten so bad that we’re even allowing women into our meetings. Oh, how swiftly we have fallen.”
    What was it, 1908?
    â€œNow, Daniel,” Buckley said. “Gavin asked Ms. Cambridge to come to shed some light what happened to Conrad. We can make an exception for such an important matter, can’t we?”
    A white-haired man at the front of the room spoke up. “I agree. And I also agree with Ms. Cambridge that burning books is not something we should do. We should return these copies here to Conrad’s family, and they’ll decide what to do with them.” He shook his head. “It just seems such a shame that Conrad would drop dead like that right after his book was released. He said he’s been working on it for years.”
    Stroud gripped his gavel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
    â€œIs something wrong, Robert?” Buckley asked.
    The smaller man released the gavel as if it caused him pain to do so. “I—I was just thinking of the injustice of what happened to Conrad. It’s terrible.” He cleared his throat. “But Daniel’s right. I think we should end the meeting early tonight. We’re not doing any good here fighting about Conrad and his book.” He smacked his gavel on the tabletop. “Meeting adjourned.”
    The men in the room muttered to each other as they shuffled to the door to leave. I watched them go. I’d come to the meeting looking for an alternative suspect to Gavin, and it appeared I had more than I could handle. I wondered if