Текст книги "Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding"

Автор книги: Lea Wait

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 27

The Sea Serpent.Tipped-in lithograph (from an oil painting) by American artist N.C. Wyeth (1882-1945) for Kenneth Roberts’s Trending Into Maine, 1938. Wyeth and Roberts both had homes in Maine and were close friends. Old tales say sea serpents were occasionally seen off the coast of Maine, most notably near the Isles of Shoals in 1820 and near Arundel in 1830. The immense serpent illustrated is rising out of the ocean; its head is as high as the sails on the vessel next to it. 5.5 x 7.75 inches. Price: $50.

Gussie smiled when Will and Maggie both showed up at Aunt Augusta’s Attic the next morning.

“How’s the bride doing?” asked Will, bending down to give Gussie a hug.

“Glad to see you made it here safely,” said Gussie. “You’re looking well rested this morning, Maggie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Maggie, looking from one of them to the other. “Gussie, you didn’t even hint you knew Will was driving down a day early.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one whose telephone is connected to the world,” replied Gussie. “Will and I talk once in a while, too. And it was a surprise! Will, before I forget: Jim and I absolutely love the bedwarmer. Not, of course, that we would need such an item.”

“Decorative use only, my dear woman, of course,” said Will, with a twinkle. “Although if we lose power Friday night…”

“Gussie! Have you heard about the hurricane?” Maggie said.

“Jim called and told me last night. I can’t believe we’ve been so involved we didn’t know.” She shook her head. “He’s going to try to pick up enough plywood today for the shop windows.” They all looked at the wide store-front windows she and Maggie’d admired a few days before. “We’ll put off decorating them until after the storm. I can do them with Ben’s help after you’ve gone. Why risk having anything damaged? We’ll concentrate on the rest of the store today. Will, can you help, too?”

“That’s what I’m here for. Do you need anything done at any of your houses before the storm? I can help Jim with the plywood on the shop windows, too.”

“The house I just moved out of is fine. There’s nothing to move inside, and no large windows to cover. Jim’s moving the few pieces of outdoor furniture at his house into his barn this morning. I’m a little worried about our new place, though. It’s near the beach, and since it is new, we haven’t seen it through any storms yet. We don’t know where weaknesses might be in the roof or around the foundation. And there are picture windows overlooking the Bay.”

“I assume they’re the strongest glass you could buy,” said Maggie.

“Double-paned and insulated and all of that,” agreed Gussie. “It is New England, and we live here year ’round. But in a hurricane all bets are off. I’m thinking we should cover them before the storm.”

“I haven’t seen your house, but if it’s that close to the Bay, that sounds like a good idea. The last I heard Tasha was a Category Three, with winds over a hundred and ten miles per hour,” said Will. “Of course, she could weaken before she gets to the Cape. And you’re on the northern side of the Cape, not the southern. The damage should be worse there.”

“When Hurricane Carol hit the Cape in 1953 the storm surge on the south drove salt water inland as far as Route 6. Hundreds of homes were flooded, and thousands of trees were killed. I remember seeing all the dead, white trees, on the Cape when I was a little girl. My father used to call them ghost trees, and talk about how frightening the storm had been. A lot of old-timers still remember. The spire of the Old North Church in Boston was blown down in Hurricane Carol, too. We don’t get many bad hurricanes hitting up this far. It’s like Maine. But once in a while we get surprised. And I don’t want to take a chance with our new home.” She picked up her phone. “I’ll make sure Jim gets enough plywood for those windows.”

While she was talking with Jim, Maggie and Will moved empty cartons from the front room into the back and folded them.

“Look around, Will. This room is going to be the new Shadows Antique Print Gallery,” Maggie said, proudly.

“What?”

“Gussie’s offered it to me for my prints,” she explained. “I’ve already measured it. I’m going to hang framed prints on the walls, and put three or four of those folding stands I have for large prints on the floor over here, below the windows.” She showed him. “I’ll bring four of my show tables up for the center of the room, and put stands on them for smaller groups of prints.” She turned to look at him. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s great you’ll have a place to sell your prints that’s closer to Maine,” he said. “If it works, maybe it’ll mean you won’t have to do as many shows. And you’ll have to come to the Cape to replenish and change your inventory. This would be a great place for us to meet, too.” He smiled and gave her a hug. “I can think of a number of reasons why your having your prints in Winslow is a good idea.”

Maggie’s phone rang. “Excuse me!” she said, untwining herself from Will’s arms. “Yes, Diana? No! No.” Maggie’s face paled. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” Will asked, as Maggie almost ran back to the front room, pulling him with her.

“Gussie, it’s awful. You won’t believe it. Diana just called.” She took a deep breath. “Cordelia’s been shot. She’s dead.”

Gussie stopped arranging toys and stared at her. “When? What happened? Oh, Maggie, I can’t believe it! Who would hurt Cordelia?”

“Who’s Cordelia?” said Will, looking from one of the women to the other.

“Diana slept in this morning. When she came downstairs she didn’t see Cordelia in the house. She thought she’d gone for a walk. When Cordelia still hadn’t come home after she’d had breakfast Diana decided to see if she was on the beach. That’s where she found her.”

“Like Dan.”

“I don’t think she’d been in the water. She didn’t say that. She just said she was on the beach.”

“She’s called Ike?” Gussie checked.

“He’s already there. I told her I’d come, too.”

“Go, then. My scooter’s no use on the sand, and Jim expects me to be here. You and Will go. She needs someone with her.” Gussie shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Why? I still can’t imagine a possible reason.”

Will held up his keys. “I assume we’re going somewhere?”

“I’ll explain along the way,” said Maggie. “I haven’t told you everything that’s been happening in Winslow.”

Will sighed as he followed her out the door. “My dear lady, when do you ever?”

Chapter 28

Medical Plants.One of a series of illustrations of plants grown for medicinal use, from The Practical Home Physician, 1883. This page illustrates Dill (to increase breast milk and cure colic), Peppermint (for intestinal gas), Spurge-Laurel (a poison), and Black Bryony (for constipation). 6 x 9 inches. $35.

Maggie and Will had to park several houses down Apple Orchard Lane. The driveway and street were filled by two police cars, an ambulance, and a van marked CRIME SCENE UNIT.

Not to speak of several neighbors, whose cars (and one bicycle) were driving slowly through the area, and one WBZ-TV Boston van that must have been in the area, since it had reached the scene so quickly.

Maggie and Will tried to avoid them all.

The first barrier they ran into was a patrolman Maggie hadn’t seen before. “Sorry, folks. This is a crime scene. No one’s admitted. No sightseers. Go home. Or at least stay on the street.”

“I’m Maggie Summer. Diana Hopkins called me. I’m a close friend of the family. That poor girl has no one!” Maggie chattered. “Chief Irons knows who I am.”

The cop hesitated and pulled out his phone. “Chief, woman name of Maggie Summer is out front. Says Ms Hopkins called her. What do you want me to do with her?” Pause. “Okay.” He turned to Maggie. “You stay here. The chief’s going to send someone out for you. He says the Hopkins girl’s really upset; maybe your being here will calm her down.” He looked at Will. “I don’t know about you, sir.”

“He’s with me,” said Maggie.

The patrolman shrugged.

A few minutes later another policeman came out of the house and beckoned to Maggie. She took Will’s hand, and pulled him with her.

“Who’s this?” asked the policeman.

“My friend Will,” said Maggie. “I’m sure the chief will say it’s all right.”

The patrolman didn’t look convinced, but let the two of them follow him.

Diana was standing at the side of the house, out of view of the street. Her face was pale, and she was clasping a glass of water as though she would never let it go.

She looked up as Maggie came around the corner. “Maggie!”

With that word the tears she’d been holding back began flowing. Maggie reached out and took the glass from her shaking hands and handed it to Will. “I’m so sorry, Diana.”

She put her arm around the girl and let her sob.

Finally Diana stood back. She looked questioningly at Will.

“This is my friend from Maine, Will Brewer.”

“Right. Your guy. I remember. I just didn’t want him to be a plainclothes cop or something,” Diana said. “Maggie, you’ve got to help me. The police won’t let me into the house. They keep saying it’s a crime scene. I called 911 and you, but now they’ve even taken my cell phone away.” She began to sob again.

Maggie dug in her bag and handed the girl some Kleenex.

Diana blew her nose. “It’s all horrible. I don’t know what to do. I should never have come here. I should have stayed in Colorado.”

“This isn’t your fault,” said Maggie, hoping she was telling the truth. Could Diana’s arrival have triggered events that ended with the deaths of two people? But how?

“Even if it had nothing to do with me, I wouldn’t have known about it. I was beginning to cope with Dad’s death. I’d almost finished getting the estate settled. I thought I’d take a break. Take a vacation. See the country a little. And instead…” Diana started sobbing again.

Will was looking down the slight hill at the scrub pines and grasses that were above the beach where, Maggie assumed, Cordelia’s body was. Several uniformed police officers were walking around, looking at the ground. Looking for evidence, Maggie assumed. Of what? Of whom? So far she hadn’t seen Ike Irons, but he must be here, too. These must be state police. Ike had said he had a small staff, and the place was full of cops.

“What happened, Diana?” said Maggie. “What did you tell the police?”

“What I said on the phone,” she said. “I got up, and went down to get coffee. Cordelia wasn’t there. I checked and she wasn’t in her room, so I assumed she’d gone for a walk on the beach. She likes to do that in the morning. So I drank my coffee and decided to join her. Have you ever been in back of our house?”

Maggie shook her head.

“There’s the yard, just below the porch, where there are a few bushes, but not too many, because the land is pretty sandy.” Diana pointed. “Cordelia has a small herb garden there in a sort of deep box. This time of year there’s nothing left except some mint and parsley and dill. Beyond that there’s a narrow stone path that leads to the beach. I found her near the end of the path, in the beach grass.” Diana’s tears were still flowing, but she wasn’t sobbing. “It was awful. She was just lying there. I knew she was dead, right away.”

“Did she have any wounds?”

“There was blood. She was lying on her face. I think she’d been shot in the back of her head. There was a…hole.”

“The back!”

“It looked as though she’d been coming back toward the house, from the beach, and someone’d shot her. She fell so one of her feet was on the path and the rest of her was in the grass.” Diana was silent. “It was so peaceful down on the beach. I stood there for a moment, right over her. I could see the water, and the beach. The gulls were crying, that mournful way they do, and the waves were coming in. I felt like I was in a movie; as though if I backed up and went back to the house and started the morning again it would all be different.”

Maggie put her hand out on Diana’s arm. “But it wasn’t.”

“No. It wasn’t. All I want is to be away from this place. Horrible things happen here, Maggie.”

Maggie was trying to think of something suitably comforting to say when Jim came striding purposefully down the hill in their direction.

“Diana, I’m so sorry. Gussie called to tell me,” he said, nodding at Maggie and Will, but focusing on Diana. “Have you talked to the police?”

“I showed them where I found Cordelia’s body. That’s all. I can’t even get my backpack or clothes or telephone,” said Diana, clearly ready to begin sobbing again. “Tell them I need my backpack!”

“Remember: I’m your lawyer. I’ll take over from here. Don’t talk to any of the police from now on. Let me do that,” Jim said firmly. “I’ll see what I can do about your backpack.”

“Good morning, Jim,” said Ike Irons, joining them. “We seem to be running into each other a lot this week.”

“I heard my client was having a difficult morning and came to join her,” said Jim. “I understand you have some personal things she’ll need.”

“We’ll need to keep this whole property clear for our investigation,” said the chief. “I was about to ask Ms. Summer and that friend of hers,” he gestured toward Will, who was being ushered up the hill toward the road by another policeman, “to leave. I’d like to talk to Miss Hopkins. Since she was the person closest to the deceased, and she found the body, she’s a person of interest. I have some questions for her.”

“Which she won’t be answering right now, when she’s in such distress, and won’t be answering at all unless I’m with her,” answered Jim. “In fact, Ms. Hopkins and I were about to leave. When you need to speak with her, you know how to contact me, and I’ll make sure she’s available. We realize you need to make the house and grounds a crime scene for now, but that means she can’t have access to her personal belongings. Could she take her backpack and telephone with her, Ike? With the storm coming, I’d guess you want to get this crime scene, especially the grounds, wrapped up as soon as possible. I’ll guarantee Ms. Hopkins won’t be leaving town in the next couple of days.”

“I can’t let her have any of her belongings, Jim. And those guarantees better be good.” Ike said, turning toward Diana. “We’ve already searched Ms. Hopkins’ backpack. We found her gun.”

Both Jim and Maggie turned and looked at Diana.

“That’s my property! It was for protection! Cordelia gave it to me after Dad was killed,” said Diana. “You have no right to go through my things.”

“Ah, but we do, you see. The crime lab will know whether the gun was fired recently, and whether it was the one that killed your cousin. Or your father. And you need a license to carry a handgun in Massachusetts. We could hold you right now, before we get the results of any tests back.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Diana wailed. “Why would I shoot Cordelia?”

“That’s one of the things we have to figure out,” said Ike.

“Am I being arrested?” said Diana.

“Shush,” said Jim. “Don’t say anything more.”

“No, you’re not being arrested. Not yet,” said Ike. “But I want to talk with you later. Jim, I’m holding you responsible for keeping an eye on her in the meantime.” He looked back at Diana. “Don’t think of leaving. You can’t get far in any case. Last I heard the governor had closed the bridges and directed the island ferries to schedule their last runs before the storm. Anyone who’s on the Cape now is going to be here when Hurricane Tasha arrives.”

Ike walked down toward the beach.

“Why in hell didn’t you tell me you had a gun?” said Jim to Diana. “Come with me. You and I have to talk. Fast. Before the chief wants to see you.”

Diana glanced back at Maggie, and then followed Jim up the hill to his car.

Chapter 29

“My Little Daughter Must Go To Bed.” Victorian lithograph from about 1880. Two little girls in their nightgowns, one sitting in a cane-seated rocker and one standing by a window, both holding their baby dolls also wearing night attire, preparing to put their babies to sleep in a dolls’ wooden cradle. Classic sentimental print of period. No illustrator or publisher identified. 7 x 9 inches. Price: $55.

Will was standing on the road, waiting for Maggie.

“What’s happening?” he asked, after taking one look at her face. “I saw your friend Diana go off with Jim. I have some catching up to do but I think I’m getting the picture. Diana thought her father was dead, but she found him here in Winslow, alive and using another name.”

Maggie nodded, and got into the passenger side of the car. “And only a few days after she arrived he was killed. She was staying here with her cousin Cordelia while the police looked for her father’s killer. Now someone’s murdered Cordelia.”

“The poor kid,” Will said. “And knowing my Maggie, you’ve been in the middle of it all since you’ve arrived.”

“I was the one who found her father’s body.” Maggie admitted.

“What is it about you?” said Will, reaching out and fondly stroking her hair. “You may not believe this, Maggie, but until I met you I’d never known anyone actually involved with a murder. And then the very evening we met…”

“I know. A friend of ours was killed. Just remember: I didn’t commit the crime. I solved it.”

“My very dear lady. If you’d been the killer, do you think I’d still be hanging around?” Will grinned. “But you do seem to have this…magnetic quality that draws in people in dire circumstances. It’s a bit exhausting for those of us who enjoy your company, you know. Never knowing when you might have to rush off to solve a murder or soothe someone’s brow who’s been accused of a dastardly crime.”

Maggie burst out laughing. “I’m not Nancy Drew, you horrible man! And I seem to remember a number of times we’ve been together that have had absolutely nothing to do with murders or crimes.” She looked at him flirtatiously. “Although there may, indeed, have been a bit of that brow-soothing involved even then, now that I think about it.”

“In any case, I assume Jim has taken over the Diana situation for the moment.”

“For the moment, yes. But she’s in far worse trouble that we thought,” Maggie said. “Not only are her father and cousin dead. Murdered. But it seems she had a gun in her backpack. Now she’s the number-one suspect.”

“She hasn’t been arrested,” Will pointed out, as he headed the car back toward downtown Winslow. “Or she wouldn’t have left with Jim.”

“No, thank goodness. They need to check her gun, and I’m assuming it will come back clean,” Maggie agreed. “I can’t think of a motive she’d have for either killing.”

“We can’t do anything to help her right now,” he pointed out. “But clearly Jim’s going to be involved for at least the morning. Diana’s his client?”

Maggie nodded.

“So let’s take over what he was going to do for Gussie and storm-proof her shop and house.”

Will made it all sound so simple and logical. “You’re right. That’s what we should do,” she agreed.

“Give Gussie a call and find out whether Jim had time to pick up the plywood for the windows. If not, we’ll stop and do that on our way,” Will directed.

Maggie smiled. Will knew kitchen and fireplace supplies and tools. He was most comfortable when he was fixing things. And right now she could use someone who could make life work.

She called. Then she turned to Will. “Gussie says Jim ordered the plywood but didn’t have time to pick it up. He went straight to Cordelia’s house. She’d appreciate our getting it.”

“Do you know where?”

“I do. I was at the hardware store the other day, getting some things for the store. Just keep going straight for another mile here,” Maggie directed. And this would give her another opportunity to talk with Bob Silva.

“Good to see you again, Maggie,” said Silva, as she explained their errand. “We put Jim’s plywood aside for him out back.” He handed Will an invoice. “Drive to the back of the parking lot and the guys there will tie the wood on top of your car. I’ll put it on Jim’s bill.”

The table that had been full of flashlights and batteries the other day was now empty, Maggie noted. Only a few candles were left, and some bags of sand.

“Have any bottles of water?” a bearded man yelled in the front door.

“None left!” Silva shouted back. “Try the pharmacy if the grocery’s out.”

“Jim’s sorry he couldn’t come himself,” said Maggie. “But with another murder, and all, it’s a busy time.”

“Another murder?” Bob Silva’s head shot up immediately. Unless he was a really good actor, that was news he hadn’t heard. “In Winslow? What happened?”

“Cordelia West. Her body was found on the beach near her home this morning,” Maggie said.

Silva looked shocked. “Why would anyone kill her?”

“I heard she didn’t have a lot of friends in town.”

“Maybe not close friends. She wasn’t like those women who spend their lives gossiping in restaurants and trooping over to the shopping malls in Hyannis. She kept to herself, ’cause most folks couldn’t talk to her. And she made those weird dolls of hers. She brought them to the church fair a couple of times. But people liked her all right. She always smiled at folks when she went for walks around town, or on the beach. I never heard a bad thing about her, except folks worried she was alone too much. She used to stand by herself, watching the kids play. When Dan came to live with her, people said maybe she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. He took her out to places, sometimes.” Silva shook his head. “Sad. Now that’s really sad news. Who would want to kill a nice lady like Cordelia West?”

“I guess that’s what Chief Irons will be trying to figure out,” said Maggie.

“With this storm coming on, everyone’s going a little crazy anyway,” said Silva. “This time of year we’re usually selling candles for jack-o’-lanterns and salt for the first snow storms. This year it’s flashlights and batteries and plywood. And two folks murdered in as many weeks. I ain’t saying anything about Dan Jeffrey. Mebbe he deserved it. There are those who think he did, and mebbe I’m one. But there’s no one who’d think the same of Cordelia West. Bad times for sure.”

“Three’s a charm, Bob, if you count your own boy. Maybe this is the end,” said a man standing patiently at the end of the counter, holding a box of nails in his hand. “Maybe this is the end.”

“It’s the end all right,” said Silva. “I just don’t know what of. And I don’t like it. No, sir. It’s not good, for sure. Folks around Winslow better start locking their doors. If Cordelia West could be murdered, than none of us are safe.”