Текст книги "Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding"

Автор книги: Lea Wait

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 36

Silver Maple. Chromolithograph published by Stecher Lithographic Company, Rochester, New York. c. 1890. Probably part of a sample book for use by nurseries and tree salesmen. Shows stately home, with tree in yard, elegant carriage beneath, and inset of leaf. “A very rapid growing tree, forming an open spreading head, has abundance of clean, healthy foliage and makes a fine shade tree” printed in small letters at bottom that could easily be matted over. Silver maples are common in the northeast United States; their leaves turn yellow in the fall. They do, however, have the disadvantages of shallow root systems and brittle wood, so are vulnerable in storms. 5.5 x 8.5 inches. $50.

Maggie drove the boys back to Sean’s house through increasingly heavy rain. The wind was stronger, too. In the short time they’d been at the restaurant gusts had turned to gales. Maggie’s van rocked as she turned one sharp corner.

Hurricane Tasha might not have reached the Cape yet; forecasts said major winds wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. But she was definitely sending warnings that she was on her way.

The boys pointed at branches that had already fallen and excitedly speculated about how high the surf might get and whether anyone they knew had wetsuits and surfboards they could borrow.

Maggie was relieved when they reached Sean’s house and the boys ran for cover. Let their parents warn them of hurricane dangers. She’d have to cope with young people’s sense of invulnerability soon enough. Listening to them she’d been reminded of how fearless kids could be. And how hungry. In twenty minutes the boys had consumed an entire extra-large pizza, plus chips and large sodas. She was taking this as a personal warning that her food budget might have to change drastically in the near future.

She turned the van carefully, managing to miss a garbage can rolling erratically down the street. Luckily, the Six Gables Inn was only a couple of miles away.

Had Cordelia really been the kids’ source for drugs? Or at least one source, she told herself; there might have been another. Thinking about Cordelia as a drug dealer was totally changing the way she looked at Winslow, and the people who lived here.

Who would’ve suspected that the quiet deaf woman who took long walks along the beach and streets of Winslow, who stopped to watch children play, who smiled at everyone and never spoke was also the source of illegal pharmaceutical medications?

She tried to put it all together.

Those boxes Cordelia received from all over the country. And from other countries, the postmistress had said. She’d specifically mentioned Canada, Maggie was sure. Small quantities of prescription medications could be hidden and shipped, perhaps mixed in with the supplies she received to make her dolls. And those eBay sales she made, and the packages she sent out. Were they dolls, or was she sending drugs, too?

Gussie’d wondered how Cordelia managed to pay the high taxes on her house. Perhaps selling drugs had solved that problem.

A strong gust of wind sent the van shimmying across the road.

Maggie turned her windshield wipers on high and refocused on getting back to Six Gables. Rain was now hitting the van from all directions. The sky had darkened enough so she not only turned her headlights on because it was the law, but because she needed them.

If this was the prequel to the hurricane, what would tonight be like?

Maybe Sheila would come to her senses and cancel the party. It would be crazy to go out in weather like this.

Luckily, not many other people were stupid enough to be on the roads. Leaves that had been on the trees this morning now filled the air like rain. Or were they blowing up from the ground? Wherever they’d come from, they were sticking to the windshield. The wipers couldn’t get them all off.

Maggie slowed down even more.

Should she stop and remove the leaves? Or would stopping mean more leaves would get on the van?

She kept going, but even slower.

She crossed the downtown area. Main Street was empty. None of the stores looked open. Although if one were, she couldn’t tell and couldn’t take the time to look. No cars were parked on the street, which was beginning to flood. Leaves must be plugging storm drains. That happened this time of year in New Jersey. The center of Winslow looked like the set of a science fiction movie after all the humans had been vaporized. Prime for a Martian takeover.

Maggie smirked at her own fantasy. Those Martians had better be wearing heavy-duty L.L. Bean slickers, or they’d be mighty wet when they arrived to take charge. She made her way around the town Green and headed north.

Not far now. She slowed down even more. She didn’t want to miss the entrance. Thank goodness there were no other cars on the road.

Finally. There it was. She turned into the driveway with relief.

A police car was parked in front of the entrance to Six Gables.

Chapter 37

Donovan’s Humble-bee and Great Humble-bee.Delicate hand-colored steel engraving (1843) from Sir William Jardine’s forty-volume Naturalist Library, published by W.H. Lizar of Edinburgh. As with other engravings in the volumes, the subjects are carefully and vibrantly hand-colored; backgrounds are uncolored. The humble, or bumble, bee, is black with broad bands of yellow or orange. Humble bees often nest in the ground. Each nest has a queen, drones, and workers. 3.75 x 6 inches. Light foxing. Price: $50.

What business did the Winslow Police Department have at the B&B?

Maggie’s thoughts were almost drowned out by the rain pounding on the van roof.

Why hadn’t she thought to bring a raincoat to the Cape? The door to Six Gables was only twenty steps away, but she’d be soaked by the time she got inside.

The rain and wind weren’t easing up. She hoped Will’s mood had. She grabbed the bag of potato chips she’d bought for him, opened the van door, and ran, splashing through puddles already an inch deep that filled her sneakers with frigid water. Sodden leaves made the driveway treacherous. By the time she reached the ramp to the porch her hair was soaked, and she could practically feel her favorite wool sweater shrinking as it clung to the dripping turtleneck beneath it.

Cold, drenched, and focused on thoughts of Will, hair dryers, and towels, she opened the door to the B&B. All four people standing in the lobby turned to look at her.

“Here you are,” said Mrs. Decker. “Finally. We were wondering when you’d get back. It’s blowing a gale out there.”

“It’s dreadful. I got here as soon as I could.” Maggie stood, dripping, on the mat inside the door. Will was in back of two other women, one of whom she didn’t recognize. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry. I should have called, Will. But I got back as soon as I could.” She shook herself a little and carefully stepped across the worn oriental carpet to hand him the bag of barbecued potato chips covered with beads of rain. “Here; these are for you.” She wanted to add: a peace offering. But she wouldn’t say that in front of the others.

“I’m so pleased to meet you dear,” said an elegantly coiffed gray-haired woman she hadn’t met, putting out her hand. Maggie knew immediately who she must be.

“You must be Jim’s mother, Mrs. Dryden,” she said, taking the woman’s hand in her damp one. “Gussie told me you’d be staying here. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You must call me Lily,” she said. “Gussie and Jim said you and your friend,” she glanced at Will, “were staying here. Jim took me to see their new house, and then brought me here to rest and dress for the party tonight. Although I’m not sure the party’s going to happen. There were telephone calls going back and forth when he dropped me off. A number of guests who’d planned to come to Winslow tonight have wisely decided not to travel until tomorrow morning.”

So that left the questions no one had answered. Why was Annie Irons here? And why was a police car parked out front?

Maggie turned in her direction. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon, Annie.” Mrs. Irons was wearing a Burberry trench coat. Maggie’d coveted one just like it at the Short Hills Mall in September, but its price tag had been higher than her mortgage payment.

“My husband heard the governor is probably going to ask all non-essential drivers to stay home tonight. The roads are getting more treacherous every hour, and Hurricane Tasha’s not due to hit here full force until early evening,” said Annie.

Yes? So the Winslow Chief of Police sent his wife to deliver a weather bulletin? That seemed unlikely. But no one else was here. She must have come in the police car.

“The car out front is yours, then?”

She nodded. “Ike will kill me when he finds I borrowed one of the station cars, but I enjoyed our talk this morning so much I thought maybe we could get together this afternoon to chat a little more. But your friend Will told me you’d gone out, and now the storm is so much worse. If the party does go on tonight, perhaps I could get Ike to pick you ladies up in the patrol car when he takes me? Police cars are heavy, and wouldn’t skid as easily on the leaves.”

“Why, that would be lovely, Annie; wouldn’t it, Maggie?” said Lily. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a police escort?”

“Will’s given me your telephone number, so we can be in touch. We should be hearing from the governor’s office very soon now,” said Annie. “In the meantime I’d better get the car back to the station. Maybe I’ll see you later. For sure, I’ll see you all tomorrow at the big event!” She waved, pulled her coat’s hood over her head, and left.

Mrs. Decker shook her head. “Maggie, there’s a hair dryer in your room. Can I get you a cup of tea, or anything else right now? You need to get out of those wet things.”

Maggie shook her head. “Thank you, but no tea. I want to dry off, and maybe take a hot shower.”

“You’d better do that soon, dear. If we lose power, we lose hot water, too, and with that Hurricane Tasha getting closer all the time, you never know,” advised Mrs. Decker. “I’ll be downstairs if any of you need anything. And I’ll have sandwiches, and if the power holds, hot soup in the dining room for supper at six o’clock. No extra charge. A hurricane calls for special measures. I’m guessing none of you will be going out for dinner. I just checked. All the restaurants in town have closed.”

“You’re a wonderful hostess, Mrs. Decker,” said Lily. “I’m going to lie down and maybe turn the Weather Channel on in my room. I was up very late last night flying in, and tomorrow is a big day. I wouldn’t mind at all if this to-do tonight were cancelled, to tell the truth.” She went ahead up the stairs.

Maggie put her hand out for Will’s. “Coming?”

Will hesitated.

“We need to talk. Upstairs?”

Will nodded.

Behind their closed door she added, “Give me five minutes to shower and warm up. Then we’ll talk,” she promised. “And I apologize.”

“May I eat the chips in the meantime?” he asked, holding the bag out, “since you’re setting the agenda for the next hour or so?”

“Of course,” she agreed, stripping off her wet clothes and stretching the wet sweater out as best she could on a towel on the floor. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for being such an idiot earlier. And I do have news! That pizza was worth a lot more than its weight in information. But first I desperately need that hot shower!”

By the time Maggie rejoined him, one towel wrapped around her head and one around her body, Will’d finished about a third of the potato chips.

“Cape Cod does wonderfully well by chips,” he commented, taking another handful. “But we still need to talk.”

“Will, I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But I’m serious about not liking what happened. First, though, I know you’re dying to tell me your news, so go ahead. Talk. What did you find out that was so important?”

“Bottom line? The boys talked. They told me they’d never bought drugs.”

“Of course they hadn’t,” Will agreed. “That’s your news? I could have told you that before you left.”

“But, if they’d wanted to, guess who they said they could have gone to?”

“Haven’t a clue. The Wizard of Oz. Plus, I only know a handful of people in Winslow, and if you say it’s Gussie, I will be genuinely surprised.”

“Very funny. No, not Gussie. But almost as strange. They said it was Cordelia.”

“The deaf woman who was shot yesterday morning?”

“That’s what they said.”

Will was silent for a moment. “You’re right. That puts an entirely different light on her murder. And on Diana’s father’s, too.”

“Diana told me she’d seen guns in Cordelia’s room. Now the reason for the guns makes more sense. But when the police searched the house they must not have found drugs. And if they found the guns, no one mentioned them.”

“If the guns were registered, maybe they didn’t seem important at the time. Or maybe they were somewhere the police didn’t look. When they searched the house the first time they were looking for things related to Dan Jeffrey, weren’t they? Not related to Cordelia.”

“I’d think they’d have paid attention to several guns. Especially since Dan Jeffrey had been shot. And they’d definitely have noticed if they’d found drugs.”

“True. So if the boys were right, and Cordelia was dealing, then either she’d stopped, she had a really good hiding place, or her inventory was temporarily out.”

“That would have been almost too convenient,” Maggie said. “But even if Cordelia was dealing drugs, it doesn’t tell us who killed her. Or who killed Dan Jeffrey.”

“No. But it puts her in a position to have had some unsavory colleagues. She might have owed money to her supplier. Or maybe one of her usual customers wanted drugs, and for some reason she couldn’t get them for him. Anything to do with drugs can get nasty and violent quickly. It’s not a gentlemanly sort of crime. And because of that, now that you’ve stumbled onto something critical to these murders, you definitely have to tell the police, and step away. Because when you’re talking drug violence you’re in over your head.” Will reached over and drew her next to him. “And much as sometimes you drive me totally crazy, I do love that head of yours, Maggie Summer. I want it to stay intact, and attached to these beautiful shoulders.” He gently pulled the towel away from her hair, which fell, damp and wavy, down her back. He took one strand and twisted it around his fingers, and then bent down and kissed her neck. “I love the way you stride in, wanting to conquer the world and make everything right. But, truthfully, an hour ago I was ready to strangle you. There are times it’s best to leave law enforcement to the professionals.”

“Yes, Will,” Maggie said, looking into his eyes, which looked very blue.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worried about what trouble you’re getting yourself into. If I wanted to marry a policewoman or a detective, I’d ask my friend Nick to introduce me to one of his colleagues. But I want to marry you, Maggie Summer. And I want us to have a wonderful, long life together.” Will reached down and picked up Maggie’s right hand and kissed the R-E-G-A-R-D ring he’d given her.

Maggie’s eyes opened wide and she leaned back slightly. For a moment she didn’t say anything. “Are you…”

“I was going to buy you an official engagement ring, but then I decided it would be more fun for us to buy one together. Is that horribly unromantic?”

Maggie stood up, holding the towel around her. “Will Brewer. Did you just propose to me?”

“I hope so. Would you like me to try again? I haven’t had a lot of practice.”

“No, no. I mean…”

“All you have to do is say ‘yes;’ it’s a one-syllable word. You’re usually good with words.”

“I know.” Maggie moved from the bed.

Will just looked at her. “You’re not going to say yes.”

“I love you. I want to say ‘yes.’”

“Then?”

“I have to tell you something first.”

“I know, I know. It’s complicated. You live in New Jersey. I live in Maine. There’s Aunt Nettie. I know we can’t get married right away. But we’ll work things out. We’ll make it work! We love each other, Maggie!”

“We do. But it’s none of those things. It’s something else.” Maggie sat on the bed, but not next to him. “Will, I was going to tell you this weekend. I still want to be a mother. I’ve applied to Our World, Our Children to adopt a child. My home study should be finished by Christmas. You remember—the agency we did the benefit for last spring.”

It was Will’s turn to be silent.

“You liked the people there, Will.”

“They were nice people. But a child, Maggie. That’s a lifetime responsibility. And you know how I feel about that.”

“It’s important to me. And if I wait much longer, I’ll be too old.”

“How could you do that without talking to me? How could you plan the rest of your life without discussing it with the man you say you love?” Will walked over to the window. He stood for a few minutes, looking out at the darkness, his hands clenched. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I can’t change that much. I’ve taken responsibility for Aunt Nettie. I’ve proposed to you. But I can’t take on parenthood. I can’t. And you can’t expect me to. I’ve never pretended I could do that.”

“In relationships everyone has to give up something; everyone has to change.”

He turned and looked at her. “Hell, Maggie. Don’t tell me I can’t change. In the past year I’ve changed almost everything in my life! I’ve given up my house. I’ve moved to Maine. I’ve changed the way I do business. I’ve taken on responsibility for Aunt Nettie. I’ve just proposed to the second person in my life I’ve ever loved. Don’t tell me I won’t change! What are you prepared to give up, Maggie? What are you prepared to change?”

Maggie didn’t answer.

“Think about it, then. Because it sounds to me as though you don’t want to change much in your life at all. Nothing that has anything to do with me, anyway.”

Chapter 38

Camomile: Engergy [sic] Will Surmount Adversity.Hand-colored steel engraving from American Flora, 1851. Woman on columned balcony, staring at storm clouds above; man on ladder who has climbed to the balcony reaches up to her. Below the title is the poem, “We must on, —be our pathway o’er flowers or o’er thorns, / Do thunder-clouds gloom it, or sunbeams adorn! / Then sigh not! It never will lighten our woe, / But smile, and e’en pleasure from sorrow may flow.” Chamomile flowers surround the picture. Page, 7 x 9.5 inches, toned edges. Picture, 5.5 x 7.5 inches. Price: $50.

The sound of Maggie’s cell phone interrupted them.

“Forget the proposal, Maggie. Forget me. I was wrong to think this was going to work. If it weren’t for this damn hurricane I’d leave for Maine tonight. I’m going downstairs. I need time alone.” The door slammed behind Will.

Maggie stood, shivering, as though a cold wave had just broken over her.

No. This couldn’t have happened. Will couldn’t have walked out on her.

But he had.

Her phone. That had probably been Gussie, cancelling the party. She’d check the message and then go and talk with Will. They’d make up. It would be all right.

Wind was hammering at the windows, shaking the panes. Somewhere a shutter had come loose and was hitting the side of the house. The banging felt as though it was inside her head.

Maggie looked for her bag, where her phone was. She found it under the wet clothes she’d hurriedly peeled off. Before the outline of her world changed.

Her phone was in the bottom of the canvas bag she used as a pocketbook. The bag was still damp; she should have emptied it and put it near the radiator. Too late for that now.

The message wasn’t from Gussie; it was from Annie. Because of the storm, the party’d been moved to an earlier time. Lily’d decided not to go, because of the storm, but Annie would pick Maggie up at five-thirty at Six Gables.

Five-thirty! She only had fifteen minutes to get ready. And no time to talk with Will; no cozy dinner here at the inn. If she weren’t the maid of honor, she’d be tempted to opt out, as Lily had. But she didn’t have a choice.

Somehow through her emotional fog she found clean, dry underwear, a pair of decent slacks, and a dry sweater. The sweater wasn’t as nice as the one she’d had on earlier, but that one wouldn’t be dry for hours. In this weather she couldn’t be expected to be elegant. She looked at the leather shoes she’d planned to wear, and then at her soaked sneakers. Neither was a good choice. She opted for the wet sneakers and a pair of dry socks. Her feet wouldn’t stay dry long anyway. Why ruin a good pair of shoes?

She made an attempt at braiding her still-damp hair, which no doubt would get soaked again, and added a minimum of makeup, hoping it wouldn’t run. She didn’t really care what she looked like anyway.

In case she didn’t see him downstairs, in case he cared, she left Will a note. Time of bachelorette party moved up. Getting ride with Annie. Back as early as possible. She hesitated before signing it, Love, Maggie. She did love him, damn it. She left the note on the bed.

As soon as she got downstairs, Annie pulled up in front of Six Gables, although not in the police car she’d promised earlier. Probably the chief had other plans for the patrol cars tonight, Maggie thought as she climbed into the passenger seat. “How are the roads?” she asked, as they took off.

Tonight was a night to think about Gussie; not about Will.

The rains were still torrential.

“Not good,” Annie admitted. “A half dozen streets have already been blocked off because of flooding, and I had to detour around another because a tree had fallen. Luckily, it hadn’t hit a house, just another tree and a mailbox. I called the station to let them know so they could put roadblocks up there, too. It’s going to be a long night.”

“I’m surprised Sheila and Gussie didn’t cancel the party,” Maggie said. “It’s ridiculous to ask anyone to come out in this weather. It must have been a challenge for you to find a baby-sitter tonight.”

“Luckily there are a lot of teenagers in the neighborhood,” Annie said. “I can usually find someone willing to earn some money.” She swerved, barely missing a large branch blocking one lane.

The only lights were from swaying streetlights that gave a ghostly appearance to the wildly blowing tree tops and the garish reflections of the car’s headlights on the wet road.

Maggie looked around. “How far is the Snow Squall Inn? I thought Gussie said it was close to town. We passed downtown a while back.”

“I told you some streets were blocked,” Annie assured her, wiping the inside of the windshield so she could see more clearly. “I’m going around that area.”

Maggie nodded. But she had a growing sense that something was wrong. Even with weather this bad, from what Gussie’d said they should have been to the inn by now. But she didn’t know the area, and it was dark, and with the storm making it even harder to see than it would have been usually, she couldn’t be sure.

Where would Annie be taking her if not to the Snow Squall for the party?

Annie was the wife of the chief of police.

She’d also been Dan Jeffrey’s lover. Diana had caught her searching for something in Dan’s room. Had she really been looking for love letters?

What if she’d been one of Cordelia’s drug customers? Annie was the wife of a busy man. She had two small children, an immaculate house, and still found time to cook almost everything from scratch, and have time-consuming hobbies. Maybe she was one of those housewives who needed a little chemical help to get her through her day.

And Tony Silva, the awkward boy who didn’t have close friends, whose dad was pushing him to excel at a sport he was failing at, baby-sat for her.

Maggie’s mind raced, as Annie’s car skidded around another corner. Annie was driving faster now, focused on the road ahead of her.

They were heading further away from downtown Winslow on roads Maggie was pretty sure she’d never seen. Or maybe it was seeing them through a canopy of wavering tree limbs and drenching rain that gave every twist and turn in the road an eerie feeling, as though whatever was ahead was unknown, and unpredictable.

Maggie tried not to focus on the road, but on what she knew about Annie Irons.

Was it possible Tony Silva hadn’t bought the OxyContin pills he’d taken? Could he have found them at Annie’s house when he’d been baby-sitting? He’d had serious asthma. His father had said that, and so had Sean and Josh. OxyContin was a depressant. It would have slowed Tony’s breathing down faster than it would have in someone without breathing problems. Slowed his breathing down enough to stop it.

And Ike Irons hadn’t found the person who’d sold the pills to Tony last spring. Could that be because no one had sold them to Tony? Because Tony’d gotten them from Ike’s wife?

How many teenagers died or overdosed from prescription medications in their parents’ or grandparents’ medicine cabinets, or those in the homes of their friends?

Too many, Maggie knew.

Sean and Josh had told her where kids could get drugs. They didn’t say they knew for sure where Tony had.

On the campus where she worked students bought and sold their own prescription medications, especially those for anxiety or ADD. Sales like that were almost impossible to control.

Annie’s knuckles on the steering wheel had looked white in the glare of the occasional streetlight. But now there were few streetlights, and no lights from houses on Annie’s side of the car. Unless this area had lost power, they must be on the beach road. On a clear night you’d be able to see stars, and the moon, and lights from boats on Cape Cod Bay.

But tonight all boats had been brought in to dry dock, and the sky was low and dark. The tide would be high about midnight, Maggie remembered. That’s when houses near the Bay would be in most danger from a storm surge.

“Where are we going, Annie?”

“To the party, of course.”

“We left town behind a while ago,” Maggie said.

“I want to show you something,” said Annie.

The car sped through the narrow streets. Annie might know where they were going, but Maggie had no idea. She reached for her telephone.

It wasn’t in the outside pocket of her bag, where she always kept it. Damn. She must have left it on the bedside table at Six Gables.

She felt for it again, to be sure. It definitely wasn’t there.

But even if she had it, who would she call?

What would she say?

That she didn’t know where she was? That she was out for a drive with Annie Irons?

Even if Tony Silva had gotten OxyContin from Annie’s home, Maggie had no proof, and there was nothing to be done about it now. And if he’d taken it from her medicine cabinet, he’d stolen it, and she’d been guilty of nothing but trusting a baby-sitter not to invade her privacy or steal from her.

Maggie clutched the sides of her seat. Now Annie was driving through sections of flooded street. How deep was the water? The headlights reflected back rain pounding on water, not pavement.

Annie gunned the car, trying to get out of the flooded area.

If Annie knew about Cordelia’s selling drugs, maybe she knew something else.

Something that would help find Cordelia’s killer, and clear Diana.

Now the rain was coming sideways as well as vertically. Annie swore under her breath as she squinted at the windshield trying to see through sheets of water. She’d turned off the flooded street onto a narrower street, or alley, or maybe a wide driveway. Bushes and low branches of trees scraped first Maggie’s and then Annie’s side of the car.

Annie, bent over the steering wheel, stared straight ahead. She never slowed down.

At the end of the narrow passageway she turned abruptly left onto a wider street, swerving as she turned. Suddenly, through the rain, Maggie saw a high brick wall maybe thirty feet in front of them.

Instinctively, she braced herself.

Annie slammed on the brakes, but nothing happened. Then she turned the steering wheel as far as she could to the right.

The car began to skid.

Maggie watched helplessly as the car fishtailed in slow motion and the driver’s side crashed into the wall, bounced back into the road, and then the left rear end hit the wall. Hard.