Текст книги "Shadows on a Cape Cod Wedding"

Автор книги: Lea Wait

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“At first he was really upset I was here. Then he told me he wasn’t Roger Hopkins anymore. He was Dan Jeffrey. And he introduced me to Cordelia. He told me I could stay a few days, but that was all. Then I had to leave, and forget I’d seen him. I shouldn’t tell anyone who I was, or who he was. I needed to go back to Colorado.”

“He didn’t explain why you couldn’t tell anyone, or why he was using another name?”

Diana shook her head. “He said it was complicated, and he didn’t want me to get involved. That it would be better if I didn’t know. That I should go on living my life the way I had been.” The tears started flowing again. Cordelia reached out for a box of Kleenex on a side table and handed Diana some tissues. “I didn’t know how I could do that! I was furious. Did he have any idea of what he’d put me through? I kept asking him to trust me! To tell me what was going on! Then Monday he didn’t come home. I was so worried. I thought he’d run off; that he’d disappeared again. That he didn’t want to see me. I even called the police and told them he was missing. Mrs. Irons, the chief’s wife, stopped in. But no one else seemed to care. And now he’s dead, so none of that matters, does it? He really isn’t coming home again. Ever! This time he really is dead!” Diana’s tears were flowing.

Gussie and Maggie looked at each other.

“Cordelia doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t understand how I feel. She’s not used to having me here. I can’t talk to her; I just write her notes, and we point. And now the police are going to start asking me questions. I just know they are. That’s what happened in Colorado. They’ve already searched his room.” Diana looked up at them. “How can he put me through this again? It just isn’t fair! I hate him! You’re the first people who’ve come today who haven’t just handed food in at the door and left. We need friends right now, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Diana, I don’t know what your father was here for, or why he was using another name, but I’m sure you’re right. The police are going to want to talk to you again. It might help if you had a lawyer with you. My fiancé is a good lawyer,” said Gussie. “He’s very easy to talk with. If you’d like, I’ll call him right now, and get him to come down here.”

Maggie signed that suggestion to Cordelia, who nodded, and signed back, “Yes, please. For Diana.”

Diana nodded. “I guess so. I don’t know what’s important and what’s not. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I don’t know what my dad was doing here.”

“Exactly,” said Maggie, as Gussie called Jim on her cell phone. “It would be good if you talked with a lawyer. For your own protection.”

“Like on television programs, right?” said Diana, brightening a little. “Lawyers aren’t only for guilty people; lawyers help protect people who’re innocent, too.”

“That’s right,” said Maggie, as Gussie talked quietly on her phone.

“Thank you.” Diana sniffled again, and blew her noise noisily on the Kleenex. “I really want to find out why my father ran away from Colorado and came here, and why he was using another name. He let me, and everyone he knew in Colorado, think he was dead. It was awful.”

“What about your mother?” asked Maggie.

“She died when I was ten,” said Diana. “Breast cancer. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I had to cope with everything. I’d begun to feel I had it under control: the legal mess, the paperwork, the finances: everything. And then this week it all started again.” She was trying very hard not to start crying again.

“Jim’s on his way over,” said Gussie. “He’d be happy to represent you, Diana. And, I’m sorry, what’s your last name?”

“Diana Hopkins. My dad was Roger Hopkins,” Diana said. “And, thank you.”

Maggie looked over at Cordelia, who’d been watching them all closely. “Jim Dryden, Gussie’s fiancé, is going to come here to talk with Diana,” she signed. “He’s a good lawyer. He should be able to help. Would you like to talk with him, too?”

To her surprise, Cordelia stood up and signed, “No thank you.” She walked toward the stairs to the second floor. As she reached the lower stairs she turned around. “Your friend can talk with Diana, but not me. Go. Leave. I need to be by myself. I don’t need a lawyer.”

Chapter 9

“Allow Me To Examine The Young Lady.”Winslow Homer wood engraving, an illustration for a story in Harper’s Weekly, February 18, 1860. A young woman, appearing distressed, is being addressed by a man (perhaps a judge?) standing on a platform. In back of him other men at a desk are checking large books and taking notes. At the time this was published, twenty-four-year-old Winslow Homer was living in New York City and supporting himself by providing illustrations to Harper’s Weekly and other newspapers. Occasionally he illustrated fiction as well as news stories. Homer did not sell his paintings until the mid-1870s. 4.5 x 4.5 inches. Some foxing. Price: $70.

Maggie looked at Diana and Gussie. “If Cordelia wants some quiet time by herself, that’s understandable. Gussie, how long will it take for Jim to get here?”

“He should be here any time,” she answered. “Diana, why don’t you get your purse, or anything else you need, and meet us outside. We’ll wait there for him.”

Diana nodded, and ran up the stairs after Cordelia.

“We seem to have found another issue to deal with,” Gussie said quietly, as she and Maggie headed out the front door. “She seems very young, and lost somewhere between grief and anger.”

“And very alone. It’s strange her father lived here for two years, and then was killed a few days after she arrived. He may have told her not to tell anyone who he was, but she told us right away. Who else might she have told? And why was he here in the first place? I can’t imagine why he’d leave a daughter her age and let her believe he was dead.” How could anyone desert their child? Under any circumstances.

“We don’t know anything about their life in Colorado. Maybe she knows something that puts her in danger, too,” said Gussie. “That’s why Jim should be involved. He’ll know how to handle this from a legal perspective.”

Diana joined them, a small backpack slung over her right shoulder. A couple of minutes later Jim’s car pulled up. Maggie went over to him and gestured to Diana to join her. “Jim, this is Diana Hopkins, Dan Jeffrey’s daughter. She’ll tell you the details. Could you take her to your office to talk, and then bring her home here?”

“Sure. No problem.” He held out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Diana. I’m Jim Dryden. Sorry about your dad. I’ll do what I can to help, and make it as easy as I can for you.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dryden. I’d appreciate that.”

“And I’ll see you two ladies for lunch in about an hour and a half, right?” said Jim.

“Right! I’m looking forward to checking out the Winslow Inn in person after that delicious dinner you had them make for us last night,” Maggie said.

“And we’re looking forward to showing off the reception site to the maid of honor. And, Gussie? Not to worry. I made sure the dresses were FedExed back to Georgia this morning, first thing.”

“Maid of honor?” said Diana. She looked from Gussie to Jim. “You’re getting married soon?”

“One week from tomorrow, unless there’s an earthquake or volcano,” said Jim. “Yes, ma’am.”

“How wonderful!” said Diana. Her tone of voice showed she’d put aside her grief for a moment and was in full young-woman-in-love-with-weddings mode. “If I can do anything to help, anything at all, please ask me! Doing something for a wedding would keep my mind away from everything else that’s happening.”

“I’ll see if we can think of anything,” said Gussie. “There are always last-minute details that need taking care of.”

“Please, do. Don’t forget.” said Diana, as she got into Jim’s car. “I really would love to help!”

As the car drove off, Gussie grinned. “Sounds as though the best way to get that young woman to stop crying is to hand her a centerpiece to arrange or a bunch of ribbons to tie. Let’s hope Jim decides she’s fine, legally. We could use an extra pair of hands for a few days, and I suspect Cordelia would appreciate our keeping her busy.”

“You’re right. There may not even be a funeral until Chief Irons decides what direction to go with his investigation.”

Gussie shook her head. “Even writing her father’s obituary will have its challenges, since he had two names. I wonder whether he might even have a third name floating around somewhere.”

“In the meantime, where to?”said Maggie, settling herself in Gussie’s van.

“Post office. With us between residences, so to speak, they’re holding our mail there. Jim’s been picking it up, since it takes him less time, but if you don’t mind hauling?”

Maggie shook her head. “I’m here to be of service.”

“That’s what I counted on. I knew Jim would be tied up at his office this week, so I told him we’d do the mail runs. Especially since he agreed to take care of the dresses. He’s warned Peggy at the post office you’d be coming in.”

“They’ll let me pick up your mail?”

“When we’ve already signed that you can do it. And when you come in with my post office box key to prove it’s you,” said Gussie, pulling in to the parking lot. “Plus, Peggy’s a dear. I wouldn’t even bother with the mail except for the wedding RSVPs and the gifts coming in. I don’t want us to get too far behind on them.” She handed Maggie a key. “My post office box is number 457. Just go in and open the box and get the mail. If there’s a yellow package slip inside, give it to Peggy at the window and tell her you’re Gussie’s friend, come to get her mail, and that I’m in the parking lot.”

Maggie saluted. “Got it!” She was back three minutes later with a handful of envelopes and two packages. “Two packages. Peggy says they look like wedding gifts. I could tell she was dying to know what was inside.”

“I’ll tell her next time I see her. Now,” Gussie said, pulling out, “let’s stop at the church; I want to check in with Reverend Palmer, and then we’ll go straight to the restaurant. It’s only two blocks from the church.”

“The advantages to being in a small town,” said Maggie, as they headed toward the center of town.

The center of Winslow was a lot busier than it had been earlier; almost every parking space on the street was filled, and Maggie noted quietly that it was handy Gussie could use the handicapped van spaces in the church parking lot.

“Reverend Palmer doesn’t mind,” said Gussie. “Only four of us in town have vans with wheelchair lifts, and all of us attend his church, so he optimistically made sure there were plenty of spaces for us in the church parking lot. The chances we’ll all be downtown at the same time, other than for services, is pretty minimal. That leaves the other handicapped spaces in the area for visitors to town.”

The church was, as Maggie assumed, handicapped-accessible, with a ramp from the parking lot to the front door so anyone who wished to or needed to could avoid the steps. Maggie pushed a button and the heavy doors opened in front of them.

The sanctuary was classic New England: a center aisle lined by white pews, and high clear glass windows on each side. Small round stained glass windows picturing scenes of the sea set above the tall pillared windows were the only decorations. The pew cushions were dark blue, as was the carpet which led to the simple pine altar raised two steps at the front of the church. A gold cross above the altar was the only other ornament.

“It’s beautiful, Gussie. Elegant. I hope your wedding day is sunny, like today.” The sun pouring in through the clear glass brightened the whole room.

Gussie smiled at her. “I hope so, too. But the chandeliers,” she pointed at classic brass fixtures hanging from the ceiling, “are also lovely. And we’ll have candles and a flower arrangement on the altar. Come; I’ll show you.” She led Maggie down the aisle. “The ceremony will take place here on the floor, in front of the altar. You and Ellen will stand over here,” she pointed at her left side, “and Andy and Ben will be with Jim on the other side. All very traditional.”

“Music?” Maggie asked.

“The woman who plays the organ for services on Sundays is going to be here. We chose a Mozart piece we like, his Piano Sonata in A, for while people are coming in, and then we’ll have the traditional processional.” Gussie shrugged, almost in embarrassment. “Ben’s been humming ‘Here Comes the Bride’ since we announced we were getting married, and we didn’t want him to be disappointed.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Maggie.

“Now I need to find Reverend Palmer,” said Gussie, heading toward a door on the right side of the front of the church. She was about to knock, when a tall, good-looking man in jeans and an orange WINSLOW BASKETBALL sweatshirt opened it from the other side.

“I thought I heard voices! Gussie, I’m glad to see you. I was going to call you later today.”

“Then I’m glad I stopped in. This is my friend, Maggie Summer. She’ll be my maid of honor. Maggie, Reverend Palmer.”

They nodded at each other.

“I wanted to make sure everything was set. No last minute problems or such. But since you wanted to get in touch with me, I’m assuming something has come up.”

“Well, actually, yes,” said the Reverend. “Shall we sit a moment?”

“Of course.” They moved back and Maggie and the Reverend sat in the front pew.

“I’m sorry to have to bother you with this, Gussie, but I thought you’d decided on a simple ceremony, with no decorations in the church except flowers on the altar.”

“That’s right,” said Gussie. “The church is perfect, just the way it is.”

“And you haven’t changed your mind? You can, you know. But I need to know ahead of time, so we can schedule time to decorate, and there are certain fire regulations that need to be followed.”

“Fire regulations?” said Gussie.

“And insurance stipulations.”

Gussie sighed. “Let me make a wild guess. Has Jim’s mother, Lily Dryden, contacted you?”

“She called yesterday,” admitted Reverend Palmer.

“What does she want to do?”

The Reverend looked around, as though he was afraid he’d be overheard. “I’m in a bit of a pickle here, you understand. She implied you knew what she was doing, but I had a feeling.… I’ve known you and Jim a long time, Gussie, and it didn’t sound like anything you would have wanted.”

“Just tell me. What is she planning?”

The Reverend looked like a little boy telling tales out of school. “Big, double, pink-and-white bows tied on the aisle ends of each of the pews. With ribbons that touch the floor. And in the middle of each of the ‘bouquet of bows,’ she called them, she wants tall candles to be lit right before the ceremony starts.”

Gussie’s eyes took on a hard, glazed look Maggie’d never seen before.

“And she wants a high trellised arch erected in front of the altar. You and Jim and I would be under it during the ceremony.”

Gussie put her hand out, as though to stop the Reverend’s words. “And—don’t tell me. I’m seeing it all now. This arch would also be covered with giant bows.”

The Reverend nodded, slowly. “Flowers, too. And ivy, I think she said. I wasn’t listening too closely at that point. I was still trying to figure out how she was going to arrange all this in a little over a week.”

“Did she happen to mention who was going to do all this?”

“Abigail from Floral Fantasies was conferenced in. I suspect she was taking notes like mad.”

Gussie nodded. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to Lily. And Abigail. Today.”

“You understand. The bows are…”

“Horrible!”

“They may be. But horrible can be done. Has been done. Weddings are…weddings. Some are pretty over-the-top, and bows on the pews are not a catastrophic idea so far as I’m concerned, as long as you take them down before services Sunday. But you can’t have candles lit that close to ribbons without a special rider to the church’s insurance contract, and it’s too late to get one now.”

“Did you tell Lily that?”

“I did. But she kept saying I was a darling man and that what the insurance people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.” Reverend Palmer shook his head. “I tried to get through to her. I did. But I don’t think she heard me.”

Gussie patted the Reverend’s arm. “Not to worry. I get it. No candles. No matter what. As it happens, Maggie and I are having lunch with Jim. I think we just put church decorations on our agenda.”

“I’m sorry to complicate your life, Gussie. I know you’re in the middle of a move.”

“Don’t worry. I’d rather hear now than an hour before the ceremony.” Gussie turned. “Maggie, let’s get going. We’re going to have an interesting lunch.”

Chapter 10

Crab.Hand-colored lithograph (1843) from Zoology of New York State, part of five volumes commissioned by the New York State Legislature to provide a geological and natural history survey of the state; published between 1842 and 1844. American zoologist Dr. James Ellsworth DeKay (1792-1851) was in charge of the project. Born in Portugal, he came to the United States when he was two, attended Yale, and graduated from the medical school at the University of Edinburgh in 1819. More interested in natural history than in patients, he seldom used his medical skills, but made many contributions to the study of zoology. John William Halls provided the illustrations for his books. This crab is beautifully and accurately detailed and colored, and frames well. 7.25 x 10.5 inches. Price: $100.

Gussie had reserved a round table in a corner of the Winslow Inn’s restaurant. She maneuvered her scooter so it wouldn’t block an aisle and Jim joined them almost as soon as they’d sat down.

“We stopped at the church on our way here. I wanted to show Maggie where the ceremony would be,” said Gussie. “We ran into Reverend Palmer.” She paused. “Guess who called him yesterday.”

“She didn’t…” said Jim.

“And what would you ladies like to drink today?” asked the waitress.

“Diet Pepsi,” said Maggie. “With lemon, please.”

“A cup of green tea for me, also with lemon,” said Gussie.

“I think I’d better have a Johnnie Walker Red. Straight up,” said Jim.

“She did,” Gussie confirmed. She pressed her lips together. Hard.

Jim sat up straighter, as though preparing himself. “What this time?”

“She’d conferenced in Abigail, the florist. She’s planning to decorate the pews with large pink-and-white bows. And candles. And add an arch at the front of the church covered with more bows. And flowers.”

The waitress brought their drinks. “Would you like to order now?”

“Not yet,” said Gussie.

Jim took a deep swallow of scotch.

“Pink-and-white bows, Jim. An arch in front of the altar.”

“She did mention something about a surprise.”

“You knew about this?” Gussie looked across the table as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “You knew Lily was planning to decorate the church as though it were a birthday cake?”

“She said she was going to add a little to the flowers you’d ordered. I didn’t know about everything.”

“Well, I can’t have it. I cannot have her going behind my back anymore, changing plans we’ve already made. No more ‘surprises.’”

“All she said was, she’d looked at the church on the Internet and it was a little plain.”

“Plain! It will be full. Of people. Of joy! Not of pink bows! Or of candles the church’s insurance won’t allow! If it hadn’t been for the insurance issue Reverend Palmer might not even have told me.”

“Can’t we keep a little something she wanted?” Jim suggested. “What about the bows?” He looked across the table at his bride-to-be. “Maybe white bows? But it’s your call. I’ll talk to her.”

Gussie sighed. “Oh, all right. White bows. Medium-sized white bows. That don’t drape on the ground so anyone would trip on them or they’d get caught in my wheels. And only on the pews. No arch.”

“Maybe you could add a white bow to your bouquet, so everything would match?” Maggie dared suggest.

Gussie glared at her. “I’ll think about it.”

“Would you all like to order now?” suggested the waitress with a smile. “Crab cakes are our special today, but we also have fried clams, or a New York sirloin.”

“I’d like the crab cakes,” said Maggie.

“I’ll have the steak,” said Gussie. “Rare. I want to see the blood.”

Chapter 11

Red Astrachan.Hand-colored lithograph of bright red apple of Russian origin from The Agriculture of New York, by Dr. Ebenezer Emmons, 1851. Two views; one sliced in half to show seeds and stem. Both apples upside down. At its publication this book included all varieties of apples produced in New York; today most are considered heirlooms. The sweet Red Astrachan, however, is still grown in New York. Lithograph on heavy paper, toned at edges. Unmatted. 9 x 11.5 inches. Price: $40.

The rest of lunch went more quietly. Nothing more was said about church decorations, and no one mentioned murders, bodies, or the morning’s visit to Cordelia on Apple Orchard Lane. Jim told some funny stories about growing up in Georgia which Maggie suspected Gussie had heard dozens of times before, and Gussie asked her if she’d like to have her hair done before the wedding; she and Ellen and Lily all had appointments at Lucky Ladies on Saturday morning, and she’d had them hold an appointment for Maggie, too.

“I don’t think so,” Maggie said. “My hair’s so long I’ll just wash it, let it drip dry and pin it up.”

When Gussie looked disappointed she added, “But if they do manicures, I could use one of those.”

“I’ll see if I can get you an appointment,” Gussie agreed. “It would be fun to have all of us there primping together.”

Maggie had the distinct feeling Gussie was thinking “safety in numbers.”

By the end of the meal both the bride and groom were a lot more relaxed. “Sorry you had to see that little scene, Maggie,” Gussie admitted. “This getting married has been a true test of love. It’s been something new almost every day since Lily found out about the wedding.”

“She wants to help. She really does,” agreed Jim. “But her system is to push everything one hundred miles further than anyone wants. I’ll call her this afternoon and make nice, and tell her she’s over the top about the church, but offer her the compromise about the bows. I’m sure she’ll retreat. Bows on the pews were probably what she wanted in the first place.”

“Dealing with her sounds exhausting!” said Maggie. “How did you manage to grow up sane?”

“I moved to the Cape as soon as I was old enough to get on a bus,” Jim grinned. “Or something like that.”

“I’m trying hard,” Gussie added. “But I may really explode before the wedding if she comes up with any more of her brilliant ideas. You have no idea how glad I am you convinced her to stay in Atlanta until just before the wedding, Jim. If she were here I think I’d be ready to jump off a cliff by now.”

“I’ll try to keep her busy and under control when she arrives. Not to worry.”

“Jim, what happened with Diana this morning?” Maggie asked. “Is she going to be all right? Do you think she needs a lawyer?”

“I’m not sure. But she did need someone to talk with. I’m now on record as representing her, and I told her not to answer any questions beyond what the police know already. I don’t think that’s a problem; she clammed up right after she got in my car. Her father’s murder scared her. She wouldn’t talk about their life in Colorado.”

“Are you going to follow up with her?” asked Gussie.

“Not unless she asks me to do something specific, or I hear from Ike that she’s part of his investigation. At the moment I think he’s focusing on what Dan Jeffrey was doing here in Winslow, not on what he did when he was Roger Hopkins in Colorado. I’m not sure Ike even knows about that part of the man’s life yet. We have so much to do with the house and the wedding, Gussie, I don’t have time to take on a young woman who needs a surrogate family right now.”

Maggie was silent for a moment. “I’m worried about her. Maybe it’s because I spend so much time with students her age. If you can spare me—” she looked over at Gussie, who clearly wasn’t thrilled with what she was saying—“I know, I just got here, but I’d like to check up on her, and maybe get her out of that house a few times while the police are investigating. She said she’d like to help with the wedding. Maybe she could help us with the move, too. Could we offer to pay her a little?”

“Maggie, why is it you’re always getting involved with young people in trouble of some sort?” Gussie sighed. “But we could use some young muscles at the house. And I have a feeling Cordelia wouldn’t mind if we borrowed Diana. Jim, would that be a problem for any legal reason?”

He shrugged. “None I can think of. If she can help you out, and it keeps her busy, sure, why not? We can pay her a few dollars. That’ll make it look as though we aren’t looking for free labor.”

“We’re going to pack at your place this afternoon, right?” said Maggie.

Gussie nodded.

“I’ll take my car and go back to Cordelia’s and see if Diana’s interested. If she is, I’ll bring her back with me. I won’t be gone long.”

Within twenty minutes she’d pulled her van up to the house at Apple Orchard Lane. Diana’s Volkswagen was still outside.

After several minutes’ wait, Cordelia answered the door. “Good afternoon, Cordelia. Could I speak with Diana for a few moments?”

Cordelia looked surprised, but went to a small table near the staircase where there were several books, a lamp, and a cowbell, and rang the bell. A minute later Diana came down the stairs.

“Oh, it’s you, Maggie. I wondered what Cordelia wanted.”

“Sorry to disturb you. But you mentioned helping with Gussie’s wedding. This isn’t directly wedding-related, but Gussie and Jim are trying to consolidate their households and move into their new home and get Gussie’s shop set up before their wedding. I know you have a lot on your mind, but if you’d like to earn a few extra dollars, we could use some help packing this afternoon.”

Diana looked from Cordelia to Maggie. “Was this Cordelia’s idea?”

“No; but if you’d like to come, I’ll ask her if it’s all right.”

“I make my own decisions. I’ll get a jacket.” Diana ran back up the stairs.

Maggie signed, “Diana’s going to help Gussie and me pack some of Gussie’s things; she’s hoping to finish moving to the new house before her wedding.”

Cordelia nodded. “Good. The girl’s restless. She has nothing to do. Thank Gussie for me.”

Maggie nodded. They’d wanted to help Diana. If Cordelia thought they were helping her, so much the better.

“Let’s go,” said Diana, heading out the door. Maggie waved at Cordelia, and followed her.

“I’ll take my car and follow you,” said Diana. “That way I can leave when we’re finished.”

“Fine.” Maggie headed back to Gussie’s, the VW following close behind.

Was this a good decision? There was plenty to pack; that wasn’t the issue. But with Diana there it meant she and Gussie wouldn’t have as much time alone together as they’d hoped.

She hoped Ike Irons was making headway in figuring out who’d killed Diana’s father. She’d had a few experiences with murder investigations, and usually the “why” came first. That led to the “who.”

The chief certainly should be looking at why Dan Jeffrey disappeared such a short time after his daughter had found him. Could that just be a coincidence? Maggie shook her head. She’d lived long enough not to believe in coincidences.

If Ike Irons wasn’t interested in Dan Jeffrey’s history pre-Winslow, then he wouldn’t worry about Dan’s daughter. The more Maggie thought about it, the more she worried about Diana.

What happened in Colorado that made Diana’s father leave his daughter? A daughter who’d already lost her mother? Starting a new life somewhere else, with a new name, was something people did only when they were desperate, and either they didn’t care about those they left behind, or they needed to protect them.

Diana certainly acted as though she felt her father cared about her.

That only left one other possibility.

By the time Maggie pulled her van into a space in back of Gussie’s shop she was determined to find out whatever she could. And make sure no other bodies were found on the beach, or anywhere else, in Winslow.