Hems & Homicide

by Elizabeth Penney

  “Not yet, but no, he isn’t going to do better, and I think he knows it.” Actually, it was Sophie who was on the fence. She’d been badly burned in the past, and I think she wanted to make sure that she and Jake were the real thing. “I figure one of my friends will get married soon. I told Madison to get working on it.”

  Grammie chuckled. “Oh, that girl. She loves playing the field. Too bad she keeps striking out.”

  My thoughts exactly, but would I tell Madison that? No way. She deserved the best and I fervently hoped she would find him, sooner rather than later. Would a relationship work with Anton? Maybe, but I wasn’t going to interfere. Not much, anyway.

  I changed the subject. “Speaking of romance, I saw Margery headed for Ted’s, right after we left. Are they an item?”

  “That’s still going on?” Grammie perched on the edge of an overstuffed armchair, watching as I packed up the linens.

  “Still? What do you mean?” The quilt would be stored in an archival-quality box but the other pieces would be tagged for sale. I needed to do a little research and then I could price everything.

  Grammie rubbed a hand along the chair arm. “They’ve been off and on forever. Literally. It started back when Ted was in the band and Margery was his first groupie. So to speak.”

  Over forty years. That was a really, really long time to date someone. “She flipped me off today,” I said. “Even though she was the one driving in the middle of the road.”

  Grammie gave a rueful laugh. “That’s Margery. Hot tempered and not really all that nice.” She pushed herself to her feet. “Forget I said that. I hate to speak ill of anyone.”

  The truth was the truth, ugly as it sometimes could be. “Speaking of Margery, I need to make a copy of another photo, the one of Baggie Bevins. I told Anton I would bring it by.”

  “Oh, is he going to do a records search?” Grammie flipped open the lid of her trunk, which still stood in front of the fireplace. “It should be right on top.”

  While she looked for the picture and I finished repacking the new inventory, I filled her in on my day.

  “That Bards commune rings a bell.” Grammie sat back on her haunches to hand me Baggie’s photograph, then stood. She picked up the diary from a side table. “Give me a second and I’ll check.” She sat cross-legged on the hearth rug and began leafing through the pages. Oh, I hoped I could still do that at seventy.

  After a moment, she grunted in satisfaction. “Listen to this.” She cleared her throat. “July first. ‘After my shift at the Point Lobster Pound, went downtown with Joe and the gang to watch the Bards.’”

  I hissed in a breath of excitement as I handed her the printout of the Bards performing in costume, just to be sure. “These guys?”

  She studied the newspaper clipping. “That’s them all right.” She turned back to the diary. “’They played music, recited Shakespeare, juggled, and did acrobatics. But poor Star. Her ex-boyfriend was with them. Even though she tried to give him the brush-off, he attached himself to our group.’”

  We already had the photograph of Bevins to prove he was in town, but hearing the diary entry brought it to life even more. Plus we now knew he had probably been staying at the Bards commune. “Anything else happen that night?”

  Grammie read ahead. “Not much. We went to Nancy’s cottage after, like we did most evenings. Her parents weren’t up much that summer.” She paused. “Listen to this. ‘We had a middle-of-the-night archery contest, lit by flaming torches and the headlights from cars parked on the lawn. Nancy won, as usual. All those years at summer camp.’” She laughed. “Not that I’m bitter or anything, just because I worked as a chambermaid or waitress every summer.”

  Summer people and locals sometimes seemed like two different species. I handed her the photocopy of her wedding announcement. At least she’d had a happy marriage, something money definitely couldn’t buy.

  “Sweet of you to print this,” she said, smiling. “One of the happiest days of my life.”

  I found the newspaper stories discussing the water system problems. “Do you remember this happening?”

  She scanned the first article. “Yes, I do. Now. The guys had to move out for over a week. I remember several of them crashing at Joe’s apartment. Really put a cramp in our style.” She stared up at me, her mouth dropping open in horror. “Do you think—”

  “I do,” I said grimly. I took back the page, thinking. “You know what, when I go up to my office, I’m going to copy these articles for Anton. They really help narrow down the date of Star’s death.”

  “And I’ll keep reading the diary,” Grammie said. She closed the book gently and set it aside. “But right now I’d better go plant the carrots.”

  While she went back outside, I lugged the linens from Ted’s upstairs, where I spent some time updating the inventory and photographing the items, even though they were going into the store. I was pretty positive with wedding season coming up that the linens would be snapped up for gifts. If not, I would put them on the Web site.

  Then I was back in Beverly, photograph of Baggie and copied articles in hand, on my way to town. I stopped at the drugstore to get a duplicate of the photo made, relieved that Margery wasn’t in today, then went up the hill to the police station.

  I immediately knew something was up. Several state cruisers were parked outside the station, and inside, the office behind Donna Dube’s dispatcher’s station was a hive of activity. Local and state officers were answering phones, conferring in small groups, working at computer stations. Then, at some signal I didn’t perceive, they all filed through a door to the back. The sudden quiet was almost deafening.

  “Can I help you?” Donna asked. “I have to warn you, everyone’s pretty busy.”

  “What’s going on?” My hands began to shake. Had there been a break in Elliot’s murder? Were they going to officially arrest Grammie?

  Donna shook her head. “I can’t discuss it.” Her gaze raked me up and down, landing on the envelope and folded papers I held.

  I’d been planning to give Anton everything in person, but now I wrote his name on the envelope and slid the bundle under the window. “Anton—Chief Ball—wanted me to come by and sign a report.”

  “Oh yeah.” She wheeled her chair over to a line of file holders and extracted one, then rolled back. After sliding the folder through, she picked up the envelope and papers. “What’s this?”

  “A photograph and articles related to the Star Moonshine case.” I opened the folder. “They’re pretty important.” Meaning don’t file and forget about them. “He’s waiting for them,” I added for good measure.

  Standing at the counter, I glanced over the report, barely taking in the words. Eventually I got the gist, added my signature at the bottom, and handed it back. Then I beat it out of there. We needed to find answers soon and clear Grammie’s name completely. I couldn’t bear waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  * * *

  “I’m really not in the mood for this.” I dawdled along the sidewalk, reluctant to reach our destination, the Classic Canvas. An orange-and-pink sunset glowed over the harbor, and the bay, calm for once, mirrored the colorful sky. On the way to town in the Mini, I had told Madison that, judging by the way the police were acting, a break in the case was imminent. I hadn’t disturbed Grammie’s fragile state of mind by telling her though, not after her peaceful day in the garden. But as for me, I couldn’t stop obsessing.

  “Come on, Iris. It will be fun.” Madison tucked a paper bag holding white wine more firmly into her elbow. When I made a face, she said, “Well, fun might be a stretch. But it’s a great chance to pump Charlotte for information about Elliot.”

  “That’s true,” I said, feeling marginally better. Progress in the case would be a good thing. I smiled at my friend. “All better now.”

  We turned the corner onto Harbor Street, where a sandwich board announcing the event stood outside the gallery. As we reached the open front door, Bella and Sophie came strolling
down the sidewalk from the other direction. Both lived up the hill.

  “Hey.” Sophie waved. “Glad you made it.” She wore snug, faded jeans and a blue button-down that looked great on her, leather mules on her feet.

  “Looking good, ladies.” Bella lowered big sunglasses with a smile, as always a walking advertisement for her shop. She wore a white three-quarter-sleeve T-shirt, tan faux suede skirt, and matching snakeskin cowboy boots.

  As a group, we went into the shop and joined three women already there. I didn’t know them, but Bella’s brows knitted together in dismay. Please save me, she mouthed behind her hand. “The leaders of the parents’ association.” I’d heard about those rather overzealous women from Bella before. Led by Gretchen Stolte, a tawny-haired and intimidating Boston transplant, I could see why Bella wanted to escape their clutches.

  “Bella.” Gretchen bared bleached teeth in a fake smile. “Did I tell you I ran into Alan at the country club?” She brushed back a sheaf of thick, fashionably highlighted hair. “Why on earth did you ever let him go?”

  Bella was an even-tempered person, but she could lose it on occasion and the sight was truly awe-inspiring. Eager to ward off an explosion, I put a hand on her arm. “Let’s go get a glass of wine.” Madison and Sophie were already uncorking bottles in the small adjacent kitchen while chatting with Charlotte.

  My friend resisted a little, long enough to say, “For the same reason you eliminate rodents from your home.” Bella mirrored the hair swish with her own glorious locks. “It prevents the spread of disease.”

  Gretchen goggled at this remark, her collagen-injected lips hanging open. Then she glared at her friends, who giggled behind their hands.

  “Burned,” I whispered to Bella as we stalked toward the kitchen. “She’s going to be thinking about that for a while.”

  “I hope she does think about it.” Bella’s fine profile was set like stone. “Ever since she got divorced, she’s been baiting a trap for Alan. Even before our divorce.”

  I looked at her with new admiration. “Your analogy was perfect, then.” She dipped her chin to acknowledge the compliment.

  In the kitchen, Madison was pouring white wine into two glasses, for herself and me. “Would you like a glass, Charlotte?”

  “No, thanks,” the artist said. “I don’t drink while I’m teaching.” Her face relaxed into a smile. “But I sure do after.” She glanced at me, no trace of her earlier animosity on her face. “Iris, Bella. So glad you could make it.”

  By all appearances she was over her hissy fit, as Grammie would call it, and I accepted the olive branch. “Glad to be here,” I lied, allowing Madison to hand me a glass. My gaze fell on a display rack holding vitamins, herbs, and various-sized jars of powders, all with labels screaming promises of renewed health and vigor.

  Charlotte noticed me looking and said with a little laugh, “That’s my little sideline. You must know what a struggle it is to run a small business.”

  Especially when the rent goes up suddenly. I hoped Nancy wouldn’t do that to us. To be polite, I said, “How does it work? I’m always looking for more ways to make money.”

  Madison gave me a stare that said, You’ve got to be kidding.

  Before I could retract my question, Charlotte pounced, picking up a packet sitting in a handy spot. She flipped it open. “Let me explain. I sell to my customers, yes, so I get a discount, but if I get someone to sign up…”

  Sophie poured red wine for Bella and herself, and my three friends drifted out of the room, abandoning me as I deserved. I half listened as Charlotte went through the spiel, and kept one eye on the clock, willing the minute hand to go around to lesson time.

  When she finally wound down, I had a minute left so I blurted, “You must be so upset about Elliot.” Not the most graceful introduction to the topic but I was under pressure.

  She folded her arms with a frown, cocking her head. “Why do you say that?”

  “Um, because…” I struggled for words. “Because he helped you start your gallery. Or so I heard. He was helpful to me and Grammie, too, with our business.” Not quite true.

  Her gaze dropped and she stared at the floor. “Yeah, I opened this gallery at his suggestion. Now I have no idea…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. Then she shook herself and glanced at the clock. “Uh-oh. Time for class.”

  But before we left the kitchenette, Charlotte thrust the herbal business packet into my hands, giving me no choice but to accept it. “Read this over. We’ll get together in a day or two so you can get started.” She was back in salesperson mode.

  “Charlotte, I can’t commit right now,” I said. “I’m in the middle of renovating the store…”

  She nodded, her eyes glittering with eagerness. “I understand. But seriously, Iris, you won’t regret it. The products are wonderful, especially as us women get older.” Her gaze flitted to the corners of my eyes and my frowning forehead, which I’m sure resembled accordion-pleated linen. She made a rolling gesture up her torso. “They renew us from the inside out.” If they tasted anything like other herbal products I’d tried, I’ll bet they did.

  After refilling my wine, I followed her out into the main room, the folder under my arm. I slid the paperwork onto the floor under my easel, vowing to accidentally leave it behind. Seeing that everyone had started sketching the flower arrangement in the middle of our circle, I picked up a pencil and began. Soon I lost myself in an almost forgotten pleasure, that of creating art freehand.

  “Very good,” Charlotte said, appearing at my elbow. “I’m impressed.” In between giving demonstrations and tips, she made the rounds checking our work, dishing out encouragement and more advice.

  I added a little more ochre to a sunflower petal. “I went to art school,” I said. “And I used to be a textile designer for a home-goods company. Designed a lot of floral fabrics.” I hoped she would be satisfied with that brief explanation.

  Nope. Her eyes narrowed. “Really? Where did you go to school? And where did you work?”

  Keeping my focus on the project, I gave reluctant answers, which as I expected were met with envy-tinged disbelief. “And now you do what? Sell aprons?” Her tone conveyed quite plainly what she thought of my new career.

  Thankfully a rapping on the door distracted her. Kevin Lee, the code officer, had his face practically pressed against the glass. With a scowl, Charlotte made a shooing gesture.

  Bella snorted. “Surely he’s not doing an inspection at this time of night? I have never seen such a zealous town employee.” She made zealous sound like an insult.

  When Kevin rapped again, Charlotte blew out air in exasperation. “He’s not here about the building. I made the mistake of having coffee with the man. Now he won’t leave me alone.”

  Madison hooted. “We’ve all been there.” Even Gretchen and her buddies, who had ignored us all evening, chimed in with agreement. Probably to imply they were popular and pursued, like my gorgeous friends.

  Charlotte turned the lock and pulled the door open. “Now is not a good time, Kevin. I’m in the middle of a class.”

  The code officer shuffled his feet, sending a sidelong glance at all of us listening in. “Sorry to bother you.” Another glance. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Promise it won’t take long. Please?” His voice rose to a whine.

  Charlotte looked over her shoulder at us before stepping outside, pulling the door shut. We went back to painting while they chatted on the sidewalk. Then the sound of raised voices drifted through the plate-glass window, drawing our attention. Charlotte stood with fists clenched, clear body language that she was telling him off. Kevin in turn regarded her with wary eyes, shaking his head and slowly backing away.

  “Gee whiz, what did he say to her?” Madison muttered, making us all laugh.

  Bella tossed her hair. “Maybe he wanted to inspect more than the building.” We laughed again.

  Kevin strode down the sidewalk toward Main Street and Charlotte charged back inside, obviously steamed.
Our heads went down and the faint swish of brushes on canvas was the only noise in the gallery. After a few minutes, Charlotte snapped out of her funk and continued the individual coaching.

  Finally, the class ended and we packed up. I was on my way out the door at full speed, eager to get home, when Charlotte called my name. She held the herbal products package toward me with a smile. “You forgot this. Talk to you soon.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked Grammie the next morning, trying to suppress a yawn. We were sitting at the island, drinking coffee and picking at scrambled eggs. The day was a sleepy one, cloudy with a forecast of occasional showers.

  “Not much.” She dropped a piece of egg onto the floor for Quincy, who pounced and gobbled it up. “I really should concentrate on reading the rest of the diary.”

  I’d been wondering when she would get back to that. If the diary were mine, I would have already devoured it in search of clues. Then I realized—it must be painful to relive her budding romance with Papa. “Grammie, if you don’t feel like doing it right now, I understand.”

  Before she could answer, the crunch of gravel announced the arrival of the Blueberry Harbor Police SUV. Anton was at the wheel. “The chief’s here. I hope they finally released the store as a crime scene.” I’d been chomping at the bit to get back to the renovations.

  But Anton’s face, as he trudged across the drive in company with Rhonda Davis, looked less than happy. Uh-oh. The last sip of coffee threatened a return.

  Forestalling Grammie, I flew to the back door, not caring that I was still in my summer pajamas. At the last second, I pulled on a fleece jacket to hide the gauzy fabric barely covering my chest.

  “Hey, Anton. Rhonda. What’s up?” Despite the casual greeting, the tension in my voice revealed my worry.

  “We have a search warrant for the house and the property,” Anton said.

  I staggered backward in surprise. I’d been bracing myself to hear that they were arresting Grammie. Then I gathered my wits. “For what? Can I see the warrant?”