Murder's No Votive Confidence

by Christin Brecher

  The last time I’d climbed through a window was yesterday, when Emily and I had been locked in the staging room of the Melville. I’d already learned that it’s not a graceful experience. At least now I knew a deep fall didn’t wait for me on the other side of the sash. Unfortunately, however, when I bent forward to slip my body through the Duffys’ window, I lost my balance and slipped onto the floor with a thud. I lay on the floor a moment to make sure nothing was broken. Realizing all my body parts were still working, I felt around me to make sure I had not damaged the Duffys’ house. Thankfully, all I’d done was dislodge a small ottoman by a side chair.

  I got up in the vacant room that was Maude and Bill’s living room. It was an immaculate but well-worn space. The place looked as if it had been tended to with love. A real home. The furniture was familiar to me from my youth, but by now it had seen better days. Maude, however, had covered its more frayed areas with brightly colored quilts and pillows. There was a small fireplace with a simple wood mantle. On top of it, I noticed a photo of Bill and Maude in their early days of marriage. Bill had long hair and Maude was in a pink dress with a flower in her hair. Next to the photo was one of Jason, their son, when he was a little boy. He was holding up a comic book. I realized as I studied it that he was standing in front of my mother’s store. Next to the photo was another of Jason, now a young man in his naval uniform. I almost turned and left the Duffys’ house right then and there.

  It wasn’t until my eye followed the mantle décor and fell on a small trophy cup from a local golf tournament Bill had won in 1983 that I sobered up. I shook the cup and heard a clink. I looked inside. There was a ring in there, but I was happy to see that it was not shiny and jewel encrusted. Instead, it was a signet ring from the Naval Academy. Jason’s ring, kept safely for him while he was away.

  I was about to head into the kitchen when I noticed a knitting basket beside the sofa. It was overflowing with yarns and needles, a perfect place to stash a small item. I walked across the floor, which creaked as much as the one in my apartment. Old floorboards are gorgeous but noisy. Between the noise of the floor and the intermittent banging of the window blinds against the sash as the wind blew outside, every muscle in my legs felt stiffer and stiffer as I stepped forward.

  I leaned toward the basket. The yarn overflowing from it was soft to the touch, as rich and luxurious as cashmere. It felt fancy compared to the rest of the room. My hand dug around in search of a small ring. At first, I was cautious, but after a minute, I was shoving around knitting needles and pulling out yarns. Something shiny caught my eye at the bottom of the basket, and I was thrusting my hand into it when a scream as loud as a banshee’s tore through the house.

  I turned in time to find the full force of Maude’s body in flight across the room and heading toward me. She had a knitting needle in one hand. I could not help wonder how many needles Maude had around the house.

  Fortunately for me, the rug upon which I stood gave way with Maude’s leap so that as she flew toward me, I fell under her. In about two seconds, her torso lay flat across the couch while I was under her knees and thighs, on the Duffys’ floor for the second time.

  Maude moaned, but she was not ready to let the prowler in her home get away. She shuffled her legs to stand up, each time jabbing my jaw with her knees. I tried to push myself away, which she interpreted as an attack on her. By the time I extracted myself from under her body, I looked up to a knitting needle under my chin.

  We both breathed heavily for a moment.

  “Stella?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  Maude sat on the floor.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she said. “Why didn’t you knock?”

  She looked at the toppled knitting basket and raised her needle again.

  “What’re you up to?” she said.

  I grabbed a needle from her basket.

  “What’re you up to?” I said, holding it up to her like a sword. As I did, I noticed that the shiny object that had caught my eye was nothing more than a pair of scissors. Given Maude’s emotion, however, their proximity to her reach did not give me any comfort.

  “I’m having my goddamn lunch,” she said. “And now”—she rose, her needle still pointed toward me—“I’m calling the cops.”

  “Don’t,” I said. “I can explain.”

  “I don’t care what you can explain,” said Maude, picking up her phone. “There are murderers around, Bill’s in jail, and now my house gets broken into. I’d have never pegged you as a thief, Stella.”

  “I’m not a thief. You know that. And the police will be here in about an hour anyway,” I said.

  She put down her phone.

  “Why?” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “Has something happened to Bill?”

  “No,” I said. “Maude, I need to ask you something.”

  “You need to ask me something?” She looked around the mess in her living room, but she did not stab me.

  “Were you home the night Simon Sterling was killed?” I asked.

  “Where the hell would I be?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. You said to Andy that Bill was in bed with you, but Bill told me he slept on the couch,” I said, gently. “He told me you never wake up at night, but that he had a blanket over him in the morning.”

  Maude raised her chin, proudly, but I could see she was fighting tears. After a moment, she looked straight at me.

  “I was with Flo,” she said. One of my very own Candleers. “She’s been teaching me to knit. I’m a disaster. But I wanted to make Bill a cashmere scarf for our anniversary. I spent a fortune on wool and then I couldn’t get anything to work.”

  She pulled from her basket a long and sad-looking scarf.

  “It had been a long day at the inn, getting ready for the wedding,” she said. “Flo poured a cordial for us while we worked, and before we knew it, both of us fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until about five in the morning. I raced home to find Bill asleep and snoring on the sofa.”

  I hugged Maude. I could tell she was in no mood for a hug, but I was so happy to know that she was with someone who could give her an alibi.

  “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here,” she said.

  “You’ll want to sit down,” I said.

  I began to share our theory that Simon had the ring, that someone took it from him and killed him in the process. At first, I was afraid I’d made a mistake by telling her anything. She had a look that told me she’d call Bellamy before Andy could reach him. She pulled herself together, however. When I finished, she looked right at me.

  “If you think that Bill or I killed a man to take a ring, we have nothing more to say to each other,” said Maude. “But thank you. For all you’ve done. Now, which rooms did you say Joe searched?”

  I gave her the list.

  “What about Frank’s suite?” she said. “He’s a decent boss, but he probably sees a lot of stuff. Maybe he caught on about the ring. The whole thing might have been too tempting.”

  “Can you come up with an excuse to poke around his room?” I asked.

  “I’m the maid,” she said, straightening her pale blue cardigan. “That’s my job.”

  It was a short speech, but we were already out the front door by the time she’d finished. At the inn, I gave Maude my phone number and asked her to text me if she found anything. Once she went inside, I checked the time. I only had twenty minutes until Emily wanted to meet me in the lobby. I walked down to the edge of the lawn where it met the water and sat on one of the Adirondack chairs. Tinker was nowhere in sight.

  I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Flo to confirm Maude’s story. I believed Maude, I really did, but I had learned in a very short time that leads must be followed to their end.

  I stared at my phone and waited for an answer. I thought of my short but lovely date there with Peter on the same spot last night. I was really, really, surprised, however, when Andy Southerland popped into my head. It was strange
to even think it, but I felt a different kind of vibe with him these last two days. And I thought he might have noticed it, too. I was imagining things though. Andy had a girlfriend. He was off the market as far as I was concerned.

  I called Peter.

  “Any chance you’re free later this afternoon?” I said.

  “What’re you thinking?” I thought I heard the sound of typing.

  “I was thinking I’d enjoy a date after all,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said with a laugh. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can be free for a date.”

  “The Sterlings’ wedding is at four o’clock.”

  “I dare you to catch the garter thing,” he said.

  “You’re on,” I said. “I’m getting a ride with Emily, so I’ll meet you there? I should warn you, we’ll be the help. This will be a stand in the back of the church and eat the kitchen leftovers kind of date.”

  “Perfect,” he said. “We’ll snag a plate of chicken from the vegetarians who forgot to fill out the cards and park ourselves someplace we can watch the action.”

  “That sounds pretty nice,” I said.

  “Funny,” he said. “I thought you were going to give me a scoop.”

  “Why’d you think that?”

  “Your voice?” he said. “I don’t know. A hunch.”

  “Well, I don’t have one,” I said.

  “OK. But if you get a hunch, go for it. Then give me an exclusive interview.”

  “See you in a couple of hours,” I said.

  I smiled at the phrase “go for it.” They were the words I’d been wanting to hear all day. As I hung up, my phone pinged. Flo confirmed that she had been with Maude on Friday night. She confessed she had not mentioned it at class because she feared that Cherry might make a thing out of it. Cherry apparently fancied herself a pro at knitting with cashmere, but Maude was not a fan of her bossy ways. From what I knew of the two ladies, that made sense. I gazed across the harbor. The sun felt good on the top of my head. I decided I was glad that Emily had brought my red dress. I had about fifteen minutes until I left for the wedding. Just enough time for a wardrobe upgrade.

  Chapter 28

  Twenty minutes later, on the dot, I was standing outside of Emily’s car as she looked me up and down appraisingly.

  “Much better,” she said. “I love that dress on you.”

  She was referring to my red dress and the strappy heels I’d quickly changed into. The look was not quite the diva aesthetic of Gina Ginelli’s loaner, but it was a little more strategically cut, and a whole lot more comfortable. Emily pulled down the fabric on my shoulders. I pulled it back. Strategic was one thing, but I still think there’s something to be said for allowing the imagination to work.

  “Give me the keys,” I said as she rubbed her tummy. “How’re you feeling?”

  Emily shrugged and got into the car.

  “This is me these days,” she said. “A kick here, a kick there. I just need to get through the weekend and this little guy can come any time he wants.”

  When we were about halfway to the chapel, I decided it was time to fill her in on a few things.

  “I don’t want you to freak out,” I said.

  Emily kept her eyes on the road.

  “Talk to me,” she said.

  I filled her in about Andy and my conversation with Jessica and Joe. I explained that the death of Simon Sterling might have something to do with the ring. Then, I broke the news to her that the Melville would be searched while the guests were at the chapel and the reception.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you told me no drama, but one thing led to another. You know how these things go.”

  Emily said nothing, which was worse than yelling at me.

  “What about Mrs. Sterling?” she finally said. “She loves her daughter, but there’s been something a little off about her this weekend, don’t you think?”

  “I do, but I think it’s because she’s been concerned that Maria Blane still carries a torch for Joe. She found out that Maria arrived early and it freaked her out.”

  “Weddings,” said Emily. “They’re supposed to be the happiest day of a couple’s life, but people lose it.”

  “Promise me, when I get married, you’ll keep us all in line,” I said.

  We had a good laugh at the idea of Emily keeping all of the Wrights in line as we pulled up to the chapel.

  A true professional, Emily rolled out of the car and headed into the chapel for her last look. I knew that as perfect as the chapel had been when she left it this morning, she’d find a flower to fix or a bow to retie or a program that was not perfectly centered on the pews. Her swollen belly might have slowed her down last night, but only under doctor’s orders. Today was showtime and nothing was going to stop her from making sure the wedding went off without a hitch. As fast as she walked in her condition, however, her speed was an average gait, and we walked into the chapel together.

  “You’ve outdone yourself,” I said when we walked inside.

  I was not exaggerating.

  The Sciasconset Chapel is a simple space. The pews are white wooden benches. Two simple windows with gothic arches framed either side of the altar. A modest gold cross hangs between them. I’ve been to a lot of weddings here by now and I’ve seen all sorts of strategies to decorate the space. In the end, I always find that unpretentious décor to match the modest design of the space sets a warm and welcoming tone for the union of two people.

  From my first meeting with Emily and Jessica, I knew I liked their vision for the chapel, but the execution was stunning. Down the aisles, at about every third row, Emily had worked with the florists to design small, but robust arrangements of purple, pale blue, and bright rose-colored flowers, all of which would match Emily’s bouquet. The aisle’s flowers were held in place in small Nantucket lightship baskets. If you go anywhere in town, you’ll see these baskets. Here, the woven reeds added a warmth to the space.

  When I undertook the candle theme, I knew I’d have a challenge with the chapel since sunlight would still be streaming in through the windows during the ceremony. It’s easy to build dramatic effects at night, so the rehearsal dinner and the reception were not hard to envision. During the daylight, however, I went for a different approach. I designed hearty pillars in a lighter shade of the purples from the rehearsal dinner and placed them on five-foot-high stands so that there was a string of color around the white walls. To compete with the sunlight, I’d put three wicks in these candles. I was now really pleased with the effect. The candles cast a twinkle of light around the chapel. They brought an aura of peace to the room. Given what had happened all weekend, and the challenges Joe and Jessica had faced, I was thrilled that at the moment of their I Do they would be surrounded by this warm and loving energy.

  I was most thrilled, however, with my unity candle wreath. I approached the altar, as pleased in the daylight with my work as I had been last night, in the half light of the storage room, spinning my lazy Susan to create these new candles. Emily had cleverly worked with the florist this morning to raise the four candles higher since they were shorter than the original unity candle. They now sat atop a wreath of flowers in the purple, blue, and rose-pink arrangements for everyone to see.

  By the time I’d finished reviewing my contribution to the chapel, the guests had begun to arrive. The Sterlings had kindly arranged for buses to bring the guests, so their arrival was en masse. The first group included the ushers and bridesmaids. They were nervous, as members of a wedding party often are, but Emily calmed them immediately and reminded them about their duties. When the second bus arrived, everyone was ready. The crowd piled in and their oohs and ahhs warmed my heart.

  I was standing in the back of the chapel, off to the side, near one of Emily’s assistants, when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Wow!”

  I turned to find Peter in a navy blazer and a tie. In the breast pocket where he might have put a handkerchief, I noticed the spiral of a notepad. Behi
nd his ear, there was a pencil. I appreciated that he had toned down the look by sticking a flower in his buttonhole, one which I knew he’d snagged from one of the decorative bouquets outside the chapel.

  “Hi,” I said. I pretended not to see the looks Emily was attempting to telegraph to me from across the room. I could tell she was putting all sorts of things together, including my sudden interest in changing into my red dress. I felt bad when I realized I’d forgotten to tell her about my impromptu date. Fortunately, the arrival of the bride outside competed for her attention, so I was off the hook.

  “These two are starting life with a little drama, huh?” he said. “I wouldn’t wish a murder on anyone, but I admire their spunk.”

  Before I could answer, the harpist Emily had set up by the altar began to play and the congregation quieted down. Joe Handler joined the groomsmen gathered at the altar and shook hands with Tony. Then he looked across the chapel as the congregation stood.

  Jessica appeared at the doorway. The gown I had admired while hiding out in her room yesterday was even more beautiful than I remembered. Complementing the embellished flower beading, she wore a lace cap with a long, thin veil spilling from behind it. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of flowers with a radiant coral satin bow tied around it.

  In all the commotion of the weekend, I had never asked who replaced Simon to walk Jessica down the aisle. I saw, now, that Jessica’s decision was perfect. She stood with her mother, who looked prouder and more at peace than I had seen her look all weekend. Mrs. Sterling had been so sad that her daughter was leaving her. Now, I hoped she realized that her daughter was not leaving. Rather, she was expanding the dynamic of their tiny family to include the warmhearted Joe Handler.

  The two women walked down the aisle. I noticed a few people both wipe their eyes and smile at their image. At the end of their walk, Jessica hugged her mother, then looked down at Joe. He looked back up at her as if he could conquer the world and pass out at the same time. I couldn’t help but feel giddy.