Текст книги "Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding"

Автор книги: Lea Wait

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 30

P Peeped In It.The sixteenth color engraving from A Apple Pie by Kate Greenaway (1846-1901), an alphabet book printed in London by George Routledge and Sons in 1886. All the letters are illustrated by pictures of children and a pie; this “P” is a young lady, formally dressed, “peeping” into a very large pie with one slice removed while three other girls look to see if anyone else is coming. Kate Greenaway, the daughter of a master engraver and a dressmaker of clothes for children, is one of the best-known children’s illustrators of the nineteenth century. She pictured children dressed in Regency clothes (out of style during her lifetime) and although her work was popular, it was not critically acclaimed. It is still being reproduced. In 1955 the Kate Greenaway Medal was established in Great Britain. The equivalent of the Caldecott Medal in the United States, it is awarded to the British artist who has produced the most distinguished children’s book illustrations each year. 8.5 x 10.4 inches. $75.

Working together, Will and Maggie had no problem covering the windows at Aunt Augusta’s Attic with the plywood. “The shop may look dreary now, but at least it’s safe, no matter how high the winds are,” said Maggie.

“Thank goodness you’re both here to help,” agreed Gussie. “Shuttering the store was certainly not what I had in mind when I asked you to come to the Cape early, Maggie. But the woman who owns the children’s clothing shop next door has someone coming this afternoon to board up her windows, too.”

“The Cape’s going to be on lockdown by tomorrow afternoon,” said Will. “Sounds a bit paranoid if you ask me. Has the governor called out the National Guard yet?”

“Actually, he has,” Gussie said. “Or at least put them on stand-by. He’s not taking this storm lightly.”

“I guess after Katrina no one laughs at hurricanes,” added Maggie.

“But this is the Cape. And it’s almost November!” said Gussie. “Can you guess who’s most upset?”

Maggie didn’t have to think long. “Jim’s mother. Lily had reservations to fly in tonight, didn’t she?”

“She did, but her flight was cancelled. She’s been trying to get an earlier flight, but airports all up and down the coast are a mess. Jim’s been in touch with her, on top of everything else he’s dealing with.”

“If the Cape’s closed off, that means some of the guests who were going to drive or fly in won’t be able to make it,” Maggie said.

Gussie nodded. “While you were outside putting the plywood up I had calls from three people off-Cape in other parts of Massachusetts, and one person in Connecticut. Everyone’s worried. But there’s not much anyone can do right now.”

“The storm’s due Friday night, right?” said Will. “Assuming roads are passable, people driving should be able to get here Saturday afternoon. Flying will be the problem. Airports down south have been closing all week. A lot of flights have been delayed or cancelled, and there won’t be any flights into Boston Friday afternoon or night for sure. Schedules are going to be crazy.”

“If I were planning to fly here from Atlanta on Friday I’d be tempted to cancel now,” said Maggie. “I’ll bet rental cars will all be spoken for, too. Not to speak of hotel rooms.”

“At least anyone who can get to Winslow has rooms booked already,” said Gussie. “We can’t do anything about the storm except prepare for it and ride it out. And be glad it’ll be over by Saturday.” She paused. “I keep thinking of poor Cordelia. And Diana. Compared to murder, a storm and a few people missing a wedding, even if it is my wedding, are minor problems. Although I do hope Jim’s mother gets here. Despite all my complaints about her, she should be here.”

“Gussie, you’re a real trooper. I keep wondering what Jim and Diana are talking about, too,” said Maggie. “But right now we should get to your house and cover the windows there.”

The sun was shining and Hurricane Tasha seemed a far distant event as Will and Maggie managed to stabilize the sheets of plywood over the large picture windows. “This is a lot harder than the shop windows,” Maggie said as, her arms aching, she tried to hold the bottom of a board up as Will stood on a ladder and nailed the top of it above the windows.

“Sure is,” he admitted. “Remind me never to admire homes set this close to the ocean.”

“And this is just the Bay,” Maggie added, under her breath. “Think of what’s going on with buildings on the southern side of the Cape.”

“And in places in Maine like Old Orchard Beach, where storm surges usually go ashore,” Will added, hitting another nail forcibly into the plywood. “Let’s hope all this preparation isn’t necessary. I noticed a lot of trees on the way here with branches all too close to electric wires.”

Power outages. Flooding. Maggie suddenly thought of her home in New Jersey.

She lived closer to Pennsylvania than she did to the Atlantic Ocean, but if there were a bad storm, strong winds could take down trees. She hoped none of the tall maples or oaks in her yard would go down on her house. She went through a mental checklist. She hadn’t left anything outside that could be blown around dangerously. Her neighbors Jerome and Ian were looking after her cat, and they had her phone number. They’d call if there were any problems.

Maggie was about ready to call a time-out when Jim appeared around the corner of the house.

“You guys are the best! Time for a break, though. I’ve brought reinforcements.”

“Can’t say I mind that,” Will said, slamming in one more nail, and climbing down the ladder, leaving the piece of plywood they were working on swaying precariously.

Two other men joined Jim. “This is Andy, my legal partner and best man, and his brother, Mel. Meet Will Brewer from Maine, and Maggie Summer, maid of honor. And today, my two other right hands.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Will, shaking hands.

“We did a little boarding up at the office. Then Andy and Mel allowed me to volunteer them to help finish up here.”

“You bribed us,” said Andy. “Don’t forget, Jim. You owe us!”

“I do, indeed. Beer for all, once we’re finished here.”

“Where’s Diana?” Maggie asked. “And have you heard from your mother?”

“Diana’s with Gussie, in the house,” said Jim, “and Mother’s airborne, on her way to Providence. She found a series of connections that will get her in after midnight tonight, and by some miracle, got a hotel room there. Why don’t you and Will go ahead inside? Gussie’ll fill you in on the details. C’mon, guys. These two already have the job half-done. Maybe I only owe you half as much beer. Especially if it takes us twice as long to get the job done.”

Maggie and Will stretched and walked around the house, glad to be excused the rest of the task. The house was built higher than the dunes, and although the windows were on the first floor, covering them was not an easy job.

Gussie was making tea and Diana was pacing, looking out at the men setting the ladders up, when they got inside.

“Tea, Will? Cola?” Gussie asked.

“Do you have any brandy? Hot tea with brandy would go down really well right now,” he said, rubbing his hands together to warm them.

“You’ve got it,” Gussie said, as she moved quickly around her kitchen, clearly proud to be able to find everything exactly where it should be. “In fact, that sounds good to me, too. What about you, Diana? You’re twenty-one.”

“No, thanks. Plain tea for me, please. Jim said I’d better stay absolutely sober and rested in case Chief Irons decides he wants to ask me more questions.” Her eyes were still swollen, and her voice was strained.

“You’ve been to the police station?” Maggie asked, sitting down on a couch from Gussie’s former home that had now found a place near the fireplace.

“Yes. But Jim wouldn’t let me answer any questions. It was frustrating. I don’t have anything to hide! I had to sit there and keep my mouth closed.”

“What did Chief Irons ask you about?”

“Everything. Whether Dad and I had gotten along well, and when I’d found out he was still alive, and about the case my dad was supposed to testify about in Colorado. Why I’d come to Winslow, and how long I’d known Cordelia. Why she’d given me a gun.”

“Did Cordelia have a gun herself?”

Diana nodded. “I saw them in her room. She told me every woman living alone should have a gun.”

Maggie frowned. “Them? How many guns did she have?”

“I didn’t see exactly how many. They were under her bed, where she kept her doll supplies.” Diana looked embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have been in there. I knew she didn’t like her things disturbed. But I was curious. So one day when I knew she was out walking I went in and looked. She caught me. She was really angry.”

“And you asked her about the guns.”

Diana nodded. “I pointed at them and raised my shoulders, the way you do when you’re confused.”

“What did she do?”

“She took me by the arm and dragged me out of there and slammed the door. Then, later, she wrote me a note on her computer. She did that when she wanted to be sure I understood something. She said she had lived alone a long time and sometimes she got scared. She had the guns for protection. I told her I understood. Then a couple of days ago she told me she’d thought about it, and I should have a gun for protection, too. She gave me that little gun and told me to keep it with me, in my bedroom, and in my backpack. She showed me how it worked, and had me fire it a couple of times, out into the ocean when no one was around, so I’d know what it felt like. That’s all.”

Her fingerprints would be on the gun, and it had been fired recently, Maggie thought. But was it the same kind of gun that killed Cordelia?

“Did Cordelia ever say why you should be afraid?”

Diana shook her head. “She said life was unpredictable and unfair, and women had to take care of themselves.”

“Did you tell Jim all that?” said Maggie.

“Most of it,” said Diana. “But he didn’t want me to tell the police. He said we should wait and see what the forensic test results said first.”

“Then that’s what you should do,” said Maggie. “Can you think of anyone who would be angry with Cordelia?”

Diana shook her head. “She didn’t talk with many people. I mean, you know, see many people. She did business on eBay. She was frustrated sometimes that she couldn’t make herself understood.”

“Did she have any special friends in town that you knew of?”

Diana shook her head slowly. “People came after Dad died, like you and Gussie did. They brought food, or flowers. Before that, Chief Irons’s wife came over once. I’d been out on the beach. I came back and found her upstairs in Dad’s room. She said she was looking for Cordelia, and came in because she knew Cordelia couldn’t hear her knocking. I thought that was weird because everyone who visits knows about the light system. Anyway, she left as soon as I got there. She didn’t wait for Cordelia.”

“Did you tell Cordelia she’d been there?”

Diana nodded. “Cordelia was really mad. She said we had to remember to lock the doors when we went out so no animals would get in.” Diana smiled. “I remember because I thought that was funny. And Rocky Costa, the man who works at the Lazy Lobster, he called Cordelia sometimes. She got text messages a couple of times, but she grabbed her phone fast and gave me one of her looks. Like I shouldn’t touch it. But I saw the messages were from him. Once I saw him out on the beach with her. He was signing, like you do. But I don’t remember anyone else. People left food or flowers. They didn’t stay. I think they felt uncomfortable because Cordelia couldn’t hear them.”

“You may be right,” said Maggie. “Do you think Mrs. Irons was looking for something in your dad’s room?”

“There wasn’t anything to find. I looked through everything when he didn’t come home. I kept thinking I’d find a clue to where he’d gone. Or why he’d left. But there were just clothes. It was as though he used his room like a hotel room.” Diana looked up. “I kind of hoped he’d kept a picture of me, or my mother. Something to remember his old life. But there was nothing. So if Mrs. Irons was looking for something, I don’t know what it was.”

Or, thought Maggie, whatever it was had already disappeared.

“Time for those beers you owe us, Jim!” Andy and the others came in, flexing their muscles. “You’re safe from the storm now, Gussie, and this man of yours promised us beer as a reward.”

“It’s in the refrigerator, right over there.” Gussie pointed. “Help yourselves. There are chips on the counter. Sorry we’re not equipped to offer you more sustenance right now. Another week or so and we’ll be totally organized.”

“That’s my optimistic bride,” said Jim, giving her a kiss. “One week until we have all our cartons unpacked, the kitchen cabinets full, and life totally organized? Nice thought, my love. You hang on to that.”

Gussie asked him quietly, “Is Ike going to let Diana go back to her house tonight?”

Jim shook his head. “It’s a crime scene, and going to be that way for a while, I suspect, with storm preparation taking up police resources. I think he was tempted to find some reason to arrest her—at minimum, she didn’t have a license to carry the gun she had—but I convinced him I’d keep an eye on her.”

“Which means?” Gussie arched her eyebrows.

“Is it okay if she stays here tonight? I’d have to stay, too. It wouldn’t look good if only she and I stayed at my house, and I don’t feel comfortable with a murder suspect, even one we believe is innocent, staying here alone with you. Plus, I promised to keep her close.”

Gussie looked at him.

“I know, I know. This isn’t what we planned.”

Gussie nodded. “But she’s alone, and she needs us. Understood. It’s all right. She’s welcome. But there’s nothing set up in the guest bedroom right now. You get the guys to put the bed together. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Jim reached down and squeezed her shoulder. “Love you. Forty-eight hours to go before we prove it to the world.”

“And, Jim. One more thing. I don’t care where she is tonight. But promise me she’s gone before our wedding night,” Gussie said.

“Promise,” said Jim. “Don’t you worry about that!”

“Diana,” said Gussie, calling her over. “Jim says you can’t go back to your house tonight. We’d love to have you stay here with us, in our guest room.”

“But you’ve got so much to do for the wedding. And that room isn’t set up,” said Diana.

“A mere detail,” said Jim. “It won’t take long to set up a bed.”

“You and Maggie packed the sheets and blankets. See if you can dig some out of the cartons; they have to be unpacked some time anyway. That room has its own bathroom, so you’ll have some privacy,” Gussie pointed out.

“Thank you,” said Diana. “I’d much rather stay here than go back to that house by myself anyway. At least tonight.”

“Then that’s settled,” said Jim. “Don’t drink too much of that beer, guys. We have one more chore to take care of. Diana here needs a bed put together.”

“I’ll find you a T-shirt and sweats to sleep in,” said Gussie. “Come on, Maggie. Let’s get Diana organized before we all collapse after this day. Tomorrow night is the bachelorette party, you know!”

“Is that still on?” Maggie asked.

“Oh, yes.” Gussie rolled her eyes. “Did I forget to tell you? This morning Sheila called to say she’d put everything she needed in her car and was heading for the Cape today so she’d be sure to get here before they closed the bridges. She was actually very excited that the party might take place at the same time as the hurricane hit. She said that would ‘heighten the atmosphere.’”

“Not sure that’s what you want during a hurricane,” said Maggie, “but…okay.”

“You’re having a bachelorette party tomorrow night?” said Diana. “During the storm? What fun!”

“You come too,” said Gussie. “Why not? I suspect not everyone who’s invited will make it, and you’ve been a big part of this last week. You should be here for the whole celebration.”

“I’d love to be there!” said Diana. “You’ve all been so wonderful to me! I feel as though you’ve adopted me in the past week.”

Adopted her? Maggie felt her cheeks redden as Gussie glanced at her with raised eyebrows. That was an interesting word for Diana to use. With everything else going on, she’d done a good job of repressing how to broach the whole subject of adoption with Will.

But it was still out there. He might not know it, but Hurricane Tasha wasn’t the only storm ahead.

No wonder she was focused on finding a murderer. Murders were simple compared with relationships.

Chapter 31

South Boston Horse Railroad Depot, Summer Street. A wood engraving by Alfred Waud, 1859, showing a church in the background and an elegantly dressed couple waiting as three horse-drawn “railroad cars” meet at the depot. The cars resemble trolleys, their metal wheels fitting on tracks in the road, but each pulled by two horses. This horse railroad and another between Boston and Cambridge opened in 1856, replacing the omnibus (stagecoach) providing transportation before then, “proof of the progressive spirit of the day.” South Boston, sometimes referred to as “Southie” by those who’ve lived there, was for many years the center of Boston’s Irish community. 7 x 10 inches. Price: $60.

Two hours later Maggie and Gussie were alone. Andy and Mel had gone home, and Will, Jim, and Diana had gone in search of pizza for dinner.

“Not bad,” Gussie said, surveying the house. “The plywood covering the windows kills the view, but in the past couple of hours with everyone’s help we’ve gotten another room set up.”

“Gussie, before the others get back with the pizza. Do you know Ike Irons’s wife well?”

“Annie Irons. Not well. Why? She comes into my store once in a while to buy mechanical banks for her sister’s husband. He collects them. She seems nice enough, but I doubt she has twenty cartons of books in her garage like we do, if you know what I mean.”

“I remember you said she and Ike weren’t from here.”

Gussie shook her head. “They’re Massachusetts people, but not from Winslow. I think maybe Annie’s from South Boston.” She looked inquiringly at Maggie. “Why all the questions?”

“Just wondering. She must have been a friend of Cordelia’s. Diana said she’d been there a couple of times. I wondered about the connection.”

Gussie shrugged. “Maybe she liked the dolls? I have no idea. I still can’t believe Cordelia’s dead.”

“What possible motive could anyone have?” mused Maggie.

“That’s one problem for Diana,” Gussie said. “Jim told me something Ike probably doesn’t know yet. I don’t even know if Diana knows. But if she does, it gives her a motive.”

“What?” asked Maggie.

“Right after Dan Jeffrey’s body was found Cordelia went to Jim and had him draw up her will. I don’t know if she’d had one before. But her new will leaves everything, including of course, her home, to Diana.”

“Why would she do that? She’d only known Diana a week or so.”

Gussie shook her head. “Maybe she liked her. Maybe Diana was her only relative. I have no idea.”

“But you’re right. If Diana knew she was Cordelia’s heir, that would give her a motive. You told me that house is worth a small fortune.”

“So let’s hope Ike finds someone with a better motive, and a gun that matches the bullet Cordelia was shot with. Otherwise our young friend could be in a lot more trouble than she imagines.”

Maggie sat for a moment. “But even if—and it’s a big ‘if’—Diana shot Cordelia, what about her father? I can’t see that she would have shot him. She’d have no reason to do that.”

Gussie sighed. “I was thinking about that the other night. Her father faked his own death. She inherited the money from his life insurance and property. If the insurance company discovered he was still alive her father would be charged with fraud, and have to pay back everything Diana inherited after his ‘death.’ Plus, he’d probably do prison time.”

“I don’t know how much insurance there was, but I’m sure she doesn’t have much money now. She told me she put their house in Colorado on the market to help pay bills and tuition. Would she be liable for the money she inherited when she thought her father was dead?”

Gussie shook her head. “I don’t know. But I’ll bet the courts would take back anything she hadn’t spent. It would be a mess, no matter what, and there’d be a nasty court case. She’d have lost her dad again, for sure. This time to prison.”

“You’re saying it would be simpler for Diana if he’d stayed dead,” said Maggie.

“It’s a horrible thought. But it made me wonder.…”

The door opened, and pungent odors of tomato and sausage filled the room.

Maggie watched as Diana laughed and picked the anchovies off her pizza, and they joked about changing the wedding reception menu to include spumoni and tortoni.

Diana couldn’t be a killer. Could she?