Murder's No Votive Confidence

by Christin Brecher

  “Jewel in the Sea.”

  “That’s the one,” said Bill. “I realized that if I helped him, I’d be able to buy it for her. She’s been such a saint, stood by me through some trouble, and I wanted, for once, to spoil her.”

  “Bill, that’s both incredibly sweet and really, really horrible,” I said.

  “It gets worse,” he said. “After the game ended, Joe got really mad at Simon. I think he knew something was up, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. And you know what Simon did? He laughed. Right then and there, I decided to fess up to Joe and Tony, but the two of them stomped out before I could say anything. I realized it would be my word against his and, Stella, I’m not going to lie, it was a confusing predicament. I think that’s why I forgot to put the candle away.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, as I remembered Simon Sterling’s gnarled expression this morning. I’d hate to have had that flashed at me.

  “I decided that I’d get my winnings from Simon Sterling,” he said. “Then, I’d give the money to Joe and Tony to split.”

  “Good call,” I said. “Then you’d have proof.”

  “Right,” said Bill with some enthusiasm. “I asked Simon for my share as he was counting his winnings, and the goddamn bastard, you know what he did?”

  “What?”

  “He laughed at me, too,” said Bill. “So, I punched him. He fell like a sail with the wind knocked out of it, and then he ran out the door. I took my money, the half that was due to me, and left.”

  “The black eye,” I said.

  For all his troubles, Bill looked as if he had no remorse for that punch. I couldn’t blame him.

  “A nice shiner,” he said, looking at the bruise on his hand. “I felt bad for the bride, having such a mess walk her down the aisle, but he was asking for it. I went home and passed out on the sofa, already ashamed to face Maude. I felt even worse in the morning. Maude never wakes up at night, but I opened my eyes before sunrise to find she’d put a blanket over me. That woman is a saint.”

  “Who lost the most money last night?” I asked.

  “Tony. Every hand he lost, he was complaining that his wife was mad at him because this trip had cost him a fortune and she was home alone with their new twin babies.”

  “It seems a little extreme to kill someone over a couple thousand dollars,” I said.

  “Wealth is relative, Stella,” said Bill.

  We both nodded and sat on that thought for a moment.

  “Bill,” I finally said. “You need a lawyer.”

  “I don’t trust lawyers.”

  “But Bellamy has to know about the cheating.”

  “I wouldn’t tell that man the time of day,” said Bill.

  “Then tell Andy Southerland. He’ll listen to you.”

  “Do you believe I killed that man?” said Bill.

  “Of course I don’t think you killed him,” I said. “But you need to prove your innocence. What’s holding you back?”

  “I told you,” he said. “I betrayed Maude.”

  “She’ll understand,” I said.

  “No, she won’t,” he said. “The worst thing I did last night was help a gambler. Maude and I, we prefer not to talk about it, but a few years back, before you moved home, I had a gambling problem. Maude told me if I ever went near anything close to gambling again, she’d leave me. I’d rather rot in a prison than have her know I betrayed her.”

  “You’re a stubborn man.”

  “That’s a good summary of the situation,” said Bill without any irony. “But nothing I’ve told you will clear my name. And in the meantime, I’ll lose Maude. Can you help me?”

  “You’re a betting man,” I said, taking full advantage of the situation. “If I help you, you’ll have to make me a promise.”

  “What’s that?” he said.

  “You will go to Gamblers Anonymous.”

  Bill rolled his eyes.

  “Look at where you are,” I said. “You go back to Gamblers Anonymous, I won’t tell Maude.”

  Bill’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Deal,” he said.

  I rose.

  “Stella,” he said. “Thanks.”

  I hugged Bill. Then I knocked on the bars for Ace.

  “Finished?” said Ace, opening the cell door.

  “What the hell?” Andy marched toward the cell. “I thought you were in the ladies’ room. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Who goes to the ladies’ for twenty minutes?” I said. “Can you give me a lift back to town?”

  “No,” said Andy, ushering me to the station’s exit. I noticed he made sure to stand in front of me as we passed Bellamy’s office, but I heard the captain inside, bragging to a couple of officers about Bill’s arrest. “You’re on your own. Maybe Peter can pick you up.”

  “Maybe he can,” I said and dialed the Inky Mirror.

  I was transferred. The phone rang, then went to voice mail. I smiled at Andy as if I were on hold and all was good and left the station for my phantom ride from Peter. Outside, I dialed a cab to take me to town. While I waited for someone to pick up, I got another call from Emily.

  “I have so much to tell you,” I said.

  “Before you unload,” she said. “I have a huge favor.”

  “Anything,” I said.

  “I’m at the doctor’s,” she said. “I thought I was going into labor, but it’s something called Braxton-Hicks. Basically, fake labor pains. The problem, though, is that my doctor says I need to stay off my feet tonight.”

  “Then stay off your feet,” I said.

  “But I need to be at the Melville for the rehearsal dinner,” she said. “The Dove Guy is coming to release his birds before the dinner, and I wanted to check in with the bride, and also make sure the restaurant is still good to go.”

  “I’ve got you covered,” I said.

  “Thank you,” said Emily. “I’ve got you covered, too. Tomorrow, my team will set up your candles for the reception and ceremony. That way you can recover from the all-nighter I know you’re about to have making the new unity candles. And I’m going to have Gary, the Dove Guy, bring you your red dress for tonight.”

  She hung up before I could answer.

  Chapter 13

  It took forever to get a cab, but I finally made it to the Melville. When I entered the inn, I respected Emily’s request to leave the drama outside the door, and resisted a glance at the floral distractions in front of the Game Room. It was not hard, actually. I was blown away by how beautiful the lobby looked with the party now in full motion. My broken candle, the dead body, Jessica and her mother’s cryptic activities, all seemed a distant memory. Instead, I appreciated the romantic glow of my candles, the crackling warmth of flames dancing in the lobby’s fireplace, and the lively chatter of the Sterlings’ guests who had managed to make it to the island, in spite of the morning’s spotty weather.

  I was also impressed, overall, by the women’s hair. It was miraculously coiffed in spite of the usually ravaging effects of sea air. They made it look so easy, but as a native with a lot of hair, I know what it takes to keep it looking good. A LOT of time. Their outfits, too, were coordinated with pastel-colored cashmere sweaters or dresses from places like Lily Pulitzer that honored Nantucket’s preppy reputation. Even the scents of their perfumes joined together as little notes in beautiful harmony. Many of the men had fished out their nautical-themed ties to wear, and all the guys were in nearly identical navy blazers and khaki pants. All in all, I felt like I was in a catalogue of beautiful people. My gray ensemble did not match their Ivy image, but at least I had on a dress. I hoped the Dove Guy arrived soon with my red number for tonight. I was now looking forward to having it. Not because any of the men caught my eye, which I knew would make Emily sad, but because I had a feeling this group would be heading upstairs to further gussy up in an hour or so.

  In all the excitement, I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten since my meeting with Andy at The Bean. I headed to the kit
chen to see if there were some leftover scones or whatnot on which to nibble. As I crossed the lobby, I noticed many of the guests were reviewing a list of the weekend’s activities, which Emily had left throughout the inn as light reading. There would be golf and shopping tomorrow afternoon, in addition to tours of the island for some of their more sedentary friends. Some people were still checking in, while others were already settled for the weekend’s fun. Most of the younger guests seemed to know each other. There were many warm hellos and hugs. I noticed a few whispers here and there, which I chalked up to the guests acknowledging the morning’s gruesome murder, but the positive energy and excitement of the large party overtook the mood and became contagious.

  The usual cast of characters was present. Jessica and her mother were holding court, bopping around the lobby with comfort and ease. I thought how they really knew how to compartmentalize their feelings. Jessica gave me a smile as she hugged a woman with bright pink lips, who looked about Mrs. Sterling’s age. A new arrival, a woman Jessica’s age, had also taken a starring role, and was standing next to the bride. She was blond, but the bottle kind, not the Jessica kind. And whereas Jessica wore small but clearly expensive jewels, her friend wore large and colorful baubles. I knew Jessica did not have a sister, but from the way they were holding hands, I could see they were close. The woman looked familiar, but I could not put my finger on where I’d seen her before.

  Circling the room, I noticed Mrs. Sterling was making a fuss over a friend’s phone. Presumably she was admiring their pictures of family members. In another corner of the lobby, Tony was grinning and high-fiving friends, but I thought the stress was getting to him. He kept pulling at his tie as if it were a noose. Not far from him, a group of older men, at least as old as Uncle Simon had been, were sitting around the fire and lighting up cigars. They chatted merrily and joked with one another, but they lacked the suave attire of Uncle Simon and I wondered how the dead man would have fared with this group. I suspected Simon Sterling would have been bored in ten minutes and in search of some other amusements. Finishing my tour of the room, I noticed Joe was missing from the crowd. I’d have thought he would be front and center.

  I stopped thinking about Joe, however, and suddenly remembered where I’d seen Jessica’s friend before. She was the woman I’d seen in the photograph at the Nantucket Inn.

  “You helped check in everyone,” I said to Frank as he passed me with one of Emily’s activity lists in hand. “Who’s that woman?”

  “Maid of honor. I can’t remember her name,” said Frank. “I heard about Emily. Everything OK with the baby?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said, mostly to reassure myself.

  Suddenly, there was a noticeable hush in the room. Then, I thought I heard one or two women squeal. I definitely heard another man sigh with the heartfelt appreciation of a young boy who has gotten a kiss from a beautiful girl. I looked to the center of the room to check out the cause of this communal flutter, then followed many eyes to the front door.

  There stood Gina Ginelli. She smiled graciously, and I felt that the slight lift of her lips as they graced the room was the equivalent of a bow from the grandest stage on Broadway. I was almost tempted to clap. Nodding her head to the side in a way that put the room at ease, she made her way toward Frank and me. Frank, however, did not show any sign of star craze. He returned Gina’s gaze with an equally charming one, and as she reached us, he offered his hand to meet hers.

  “May I help you?” said Frank with a professional discretion that really impressed me.

  “Stella,” Gina said, to my amazement. Then, no joke, she kissed me on not one but both cheeks. Gina Ginelli kissed me. I almost pulled out my phone right then and there to call Emily and let her know. It was ridiculously embarrassing that as a grown woman I was so silly around this star, but honestly, if you’d ever seen her in person, you’d know why. She really had a magnetic quality about her that your usual guy on the street doesn’t have.

  “Frank,” I said, before I could stop myself. “This is Gina Ginelli. She’s staying in one of the cottages down the road.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” said Gina. “I see you have a big affair underway. But I have a bit of a problem at the cottage and I didn’t know where else to turn, as my realtor is not answering.”

  “No trouble,” said Frank.

  “It seems my electricity is out,” she said. “No worries now, but in a couple of hours, the sun will be setting. I suspect the lights will go back on, but just to be on the safe side, I wondered if you have any extra flashlights or candles. I’d drive to town, but I’m trying to keep a low profile.”

  “I have some extra candles,” I said, knowing I sounded like an overly enthusiastic fan but unable to stop myself. “Let me give you some.”

  “I’m sure your lights will be back on in no time,” said Frank.

  It occurred to me that the electricity at Gina’s had been fine this afternoon. Usually the weather was behind an outage, but if anything, the skies had cleared not worsened.

  “At this corner of the island,” Frank continued, “we can get temporary blackouts, but they usually don’t last long. We have generators so they don’t disrupt our service, but I suppose a little cottage like yours does not.”

  “I guess it doesn’t,” said Gina, looking genuinely nervous. “Good to know they don’t last long, but if you have some candles, Stella, I’d be grateful for them. With the news of the dead body this morning, it’s got me a little rattled.”

  Frank and I exchanged glances at her mention of the unmentionable. The guests were still eyeing her, of course, and her interest in the murder was not good for the overall mood of the party.

  “Why don’t you come back here with us, and I’ll get you those candles?” I said.

  “Good idea,” said Frank as he deftly maneuvered us across the room.

  A few people said hello and a couple of people popped in front of us for selfies with Gina, for which she graciously smiled. We managed to make the journey, however, with no further conversation about the murder.

  Once in the kitchen, the staff had their turn to say hello and take selfies while I entered the staging room and found a few candles I knew I would not need. As I packaged them up in tissue paper, I decided to tuck my card for the Wick & Flame into the bow.

  “. . . Yes. I’m preparing for a murder mystery film,” said Gina from the other room as I looked through some baskets and drawers for matches.

  “How exciting,” said Frank.

  “Can you tell me about the morning’s murder?” she said. I noticed her voice shake a little at the word murder. I suspected this was going to be a terrifying night for her if the lights didn’t go on. I wondered if Andy would really stop by and check on her.

  “I can’t say much,” Frank said, diplomatically.

  “Here you go,” I said, returning to them with my package. “Don’t worry about the murder. The police did a great job sweeping the hotel, securing the crime scene, and catching the criminal.” Of course, I did not believe that Bill had murdered Simon, but I figured the idea would put her at ease. I also thought that making a public announcement that I thought Bill was the bad guy might ensure that I wasn’t on any murderer’s radar.

  “Well, that’s good news,” said Gina.

  My phone pinged and I looked at a text from Emily.

  “Oh darn,” I said.

  “What?” both Frank and Gina said in alarm. I realized my voice had been loud. And not too kind.

  “Something about the murder?” said Gina.

  “No,” I said. “My dress. The Dove Guy was supposed to bring my red dress. He forgot it.”

  I really wanted that dress. I felt tired and shlumpy. I had unity candles to make tonight and a rehearsal dinner to oversee in a way that would reflect well on Emily. I just wanted to look nice doing it. I sat on one of the kitchen stools and slumped.

  “Sometimes a girl really needs a nice red dress to get through the night. You know?�
�� I said.

  “Yes,” said both Frank and Gina in unison.

  “Oh well,” I said, and tried to laugh.

  “Oh well, nothing,” said Gina. “You were very kind to stop everything in the middle of this party to get me some candles. Let me repay the favor. You can borrow something from me. I’m a diva. I travel with loads of evening wear. Even when I’m holed up practicing for a part.” She laughed with self-deprecating comradery, which was in stark contrast to the ingenue she had played in front of Andy earlier. I noticed, but I was too grateful to be critical.

  “Thanks so much,” I said, checking my watch. “I only have about twenty minutes before I need to be back for final touches to the dinner.”

  “Easy,” said Gina. “I once changed from swim clothes to a gown for the red carpet in Cannes from the time it took to take the launch from my boat to the shore. You’re with a pro. Is this the back door?”

  Before I could answer, she had already unlatched the back door and was heading out of the inn by way of the parking lot. As I followed, I noticed Gina was good at avoiding the crowds when she wanted to. She dodged around one car as she spied a couple kissing by the hotel’s corner, and in no time, we were walking back down the dirt road toward her cottage.

  “I’ll drive you back,” she said as if she were reading my mind. I did not want to get dressed only to soil an outfit or break a heel heading back to the inn on a dirt road. “Are your feet a seven?”

  “How’d you know?” I said.

  “Years of working in repertory with limited costumes shared by many. I can size up anyone. I met my husband back in those days.”

  “Is he planning to meet you here?” I blurted out. I was a little out of breath and considered I should go back to the gym. Here was Gina Ginelli, a good twenty years older than I and it felt like she wasn’t even touching the ground as she sped us down the path.

  Gina did not answer, but smiled at me and shrugged in a way that suggested she had no idea where he was. I suddenly felt sorry for this beautiful woman, alone in a beach cottage with no idea where her husband might be. I considered that being glamourous was more complicated than the pretty picture most people were allowed to see.