Murder's No Votive Confidence

by Christin Brecher

“Happens,” she said. “Keep talking. I think I might be having a contraction.”

  She squeezed my hand hard, so I kept talking.

  “When Simon was heading out for his walk an hour or so later,” I said, “Mrs. Sterling was reading the paper in the lobby and heard him talking to the Hellers. She probably heard him compliment their good work, so she Googled them. Once she figured out they were jewelers, she got more suspicious about Joe’s chat with them. The sad thing is that she didn’t know she was the source of their secrecy.”

  I started to make those pregnancy breathing noises that I’ve seen people do on TV. Tinker curled up at Emily’s feet for support.

  “Mrs. Sterling went to town and took out cash, which she used to bribe the Hellers. They told her that Joe commissioned a copy of the ring, no more. Later, she ascertained from them that Jessica was wearing the fake. She jumped to the conclusion that Joe had sold her daughter’s ring to Simon and had given her the fake one to unwittingly wear. She never, ever, imagined that Jessica was in on the deal. That night, after tossing and turning, she went downstairs to confront the men at the card game. The game was over, however. Joe and Tony had left. Bill had punched Simon, and he was waiting for Gina to arrive. They were alone in the Card Room.”

  “Wait. Simon was having an affair with Gina?” said Emily.

  “I know, can you believe it? He wanted the ring for her.”

  “This is all about Gina Ginelli!” said Emily. “To think I was considering asking Neal this morning if he liked the name Gina.”

  At this point she squeezed my hand again, so I kept talking.

  “Mrs. Sterling told Simon in the Game Room that she knew Joe commissioned the ring and that he was in on it. She demanded he tell her everything, which he refused to do. Then she offered to pay him for the ring. He refused.”

  I breathed some more. Emily joined me. To my relief, as we neared closer and closer to the shore, I heard sirens. Peter had gotten through to the hospital.

  “Why did Mrs. Sterling kill Simon?” Emily said.

  “As Bellamy said, a crime of passion. I think she lost it,” I said, finishing my story as we pulled to the shore. “She picked up the candle and hit him with the anger of all the years of feeling scorned by him, and all her fears about her daughter marrying the wrong man. The problem was, however, that she killed him without finding out where the ring was.”

  “So, along with Jessica and Joe,” said Emily, “Mrs. Sterling was looking for the ring all weekend?”

  “Yup,” I said.

  “I’m having a baby!” Emily cried, and smiled as two EMTs ran to the water’s edge with a stretcher.

  “I know! And you’re so cool!” I said.

  Another EMT arrived with a stretcher as Emily was whooshed away. I realized that one was meant for me, and that the blood from my forehead was flowing freely. As the ambulance door shut on me a minute or so later, my last view was of the colors of the sails in Nantucket’s harbor. I decided that next year I’d kick off the season with a FIGAWI line to celebrate the colors of all of the sails. We pulled away with me in one ambulance and Emily in another. Tinker warmed me with a sweet purr. I checked him for bumps and bruises, but, luckily, he had nine lives and had escaped without injury.

  Moments later, the doors opened again. My cousin Kate was standing before the emergency entrance looking worried. Peter came running toward us from the parking lot.

  “The police have Mrs. Sterling,” said Peter. “Andy was on the scene, along with Bellamy.”

  “What happened to your head?” Kate said.

  Peter followed us into the hospital, explaining the events of our chase to my cousin as she cleaned my wound and checked me for any broken bones of which I thankfully had none. Once I had a ridiculous bandage on my forehead, Emily’s doctor poked her head into my room and said that Emily wanted to see me. My headache—in fact, any ache from the tension of the day—melted at her invitation. Peter could barely keep up with me as I headed to the maternity ward.

  A pink balloon was wrapped around the doorknob of her room.

  “It’s a girl,” she said when I opened the door.

  Neal was beside her. He kissed his wife and baby, who cooed at him. She was a beautiful bundle.

  “Neal’s furious with you,” said Emily.

  “Furious,” said Neal.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “My wife takes her job too seriously,” said Neal. “I depend on you to keep her from getting into more trouble than she already does. I know that’s impossible because I know the both of you, but you two really crossed the line. My daughter was out there on the seas.”

  “Your daughter,” said Emily, looking the proud parent.

  Neal smiled back at her.

  We all peeked over the pink blanket in Emily’s arms to gush over the rosy-cheeked bundle she held.

  “You want to tell her?” Neal said.

  Emily looked at me.

  “We named her,” she said. “Victoria.”

  “Well done, Neal,” I said.

  “Victoria Stella,” said Emily.

  I cried. Emily cried. We hugged until the nurse came in and told me and Peter we had to leave. There were loads of Wrights who would be happy to pick us up, but we walked out of the hospital, where Tinker was waiting for us on a bench, and called a cab.

  “Feeling better?” he said.

  “I think I’m going to skip the Sterlings’ reception,” I said. “Sorry this wasn’t a better date.”

  “This was an awesome date,” said Peter. “This is like the best date I’ve ever had. Don’t you think?”

  I laughed. “I guess it was,” I said.

  “You guess?” he said, putting his arm around me.

  “No, I know,” I said. “It was pretty darn good.”

  “If you want a more traditional first date, however, we can do that,” he said, kissing my bandaged forehead. “How about we go to FIGAWI’s closing party tomorrow night?”

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  Chapter 33

  I had to give the police a lot of credit. Their job is a lot more than I bargained for. Maybe I was suffering from a mild concussion, but the moment I arrived back at my apartment, the adrenaline slowed and the fatigue kicked in. My appetite did, too. I was so hungry and my fridge was so bare that I was almost tempted to boil the macaroni off my Leftover sign. Fortunately, Chris and Suzie met me with a plate of homemade spaghetti and meatballs and an ice-cold beer. We sat at my kitchen counter with Tinker purring at my feet while I told them all of the details of Mrs. Sterling’s arrest, Emily’s new baby, and the discovery of Simon Sterling’s hidden ring.

  The last thing I learned before my head hit the pillow was that Andy had been the one to break the news to Jessica and Joe about Mrs. Sterling’s arrest. From what I gathered, the newlyweds, who had been so careful about protecting Mrs. Sterling’s delicate emotions for many months, decided the news was the last straw. After a short, angry call between Jessica and her mother, the Handlers packed their bags and left in their Just Married carriage before the party ended. Maria and Tony turned out to be the best attendants anyone could have ever wanted. They took over as host and hostess of the party, which went on into the wee hours. None of the guests even knew what had happened to Mrs. Sterling until the next morning, and by that time Jessica and Joe were in Southern Italy. I wondered if they would ever come home to open their gyms. Jessica and Joe would have a lot ahead of them, but I figured they’d make it. They’d already shown a lot of fortitude.

  When I awoke, it was late Sunday afternoon. Tinker was at the bottom of my bed, keeping my feet warm. As I lay in bed, reviewing the past forty-eight hours, there was a knock on my front door. I figured it was Suzie, and that if I didn’t answer, she’d think I was still asleep and come back in a couple of hours. A few seconds later, however, the knock came again.

  “I’m sleeping,” I called out, knowing my voice would travel down the stairs.

  “Sorry,�
� a voice said. It was not Suzie’s.

  I sat up and threw off my covers.

  “Wait!” I said. “Hang on!”

  I shuffled around my room for some clothes, but could only find my jeans on the chair by my window. I was wearing my super fluffy leopard print pajama top, but it would have to do. I threw on the matching slippers and ran down the stairs.

  Gina Ginelli was at my door. Tinker ran down beside me and purred at her feet.

  “Hi,” she said.

  This morning, my Hollywood idol was wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater with a quilted vest over it. She wore no makeup and her hair was pulled back into a bun. The only giveaway that there might be a superstar at my front door was the large pair of black sunglasses she wore.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “I’m heading out, but I wanted to say goodbye to you,” she said, and then looked down at Tinker. “And you.”

  “Come in,” I said, wishing I’d tidied up a bit more before falling asleep last night. The unwashed bowl of spaghetti was still in my kitchen sink and the empty can of beer was on the counter. Added to that was my bloodstained red dress that was crumpled in a ball outside my bathroom door. I picked it up and shoved it in my hamper, but otherwise it was too late for any other improvements.

  To her credit, Gina did not seem to notice anything. She waltzed into my small apartment and took a seat on my sofa.

  “Tea?” I said.

  “That would be lovely,” she answered as Tinker jumped on my coffee table and looked at her steadily.

  He purred, and put out a paw.

  “Aren’t you the gentleman,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I wish I could shake your hand, but I’d be sneezing all day.”

  Tinker dropped his paw.

  “But I wanted to see you, and if you don’t mind, take your picture,” she said to the cat. She pulled out her phone and took a picture. “You will always be family in my heart, but if our friend, Stella, doesn’t mind, I think you’ll have a nice life on Nantucket with her.”

  I stopped pouring the boiling water for a moment to nod my head in agreement.

  “It would be my honor,” I said. I took two cups of chamomile tea and joined Gina. “And I’ll send you photos any time.”

  “That would be nice,” she said.

  Sitting so close to Gina, I was reminded again of the unique scent she wore. I realized I might never have such a perfect opportunity to talk to her about it. I gathered my nerve and shared my idea of the Ginelli candle. As I spoke, I noticed she avoided my eyes.

  “It’s a lovely idea,” she said when I’d finished. “And I’d do anything I can for you, but I’m about to have my life raked across the coals. People might not be wanting a Ginelli candle.”

  I looked at her questioningly.

  “Because of Simon?” I said.

  “And more,” she said. “I’ve decided to leave Kevin. He’s broken every vow. I think I can get an annulment.”

  “I’m sure that was a hard decision,” I said. “I’m sorry I know this, but I heard there was a big prenup.”

  “There is,” she said, “but I have enough for two lifetimes. I recently came into a large fortune, unexpectedly. From Simon. Or I should say, the real Gina Ginelli has come into money. My given name is MaryJo LaMonte.”

  And here, I’d always thought that Gina was an Italian diva. She’d done quite a good job of creating a character the world could enjoy in Gina Ginelli, but I had a feeling MaryJo and I would have been good friends.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But also, congratulations.”

  “I hope you can understand that there are a few things in life I’d like to keep as my own. My scent is one of them.”

  “I think I understand better than most anyone about that,” I said.

  “I might have something better for you anyway.” She opened her purse and pulled out a card. “This is the name of the perfumer who created the scent for me. He works in a little shop in Southern Italy. I’ll tell him to expect your call and I’m sure he would love to work with you.”

  “This would be amazing,” I said. “In fact, my mother is the one who would most love to meet him.”

  “At her own risk,” she said with a wink. “He’s a very charming man.”

  “May I ask another favor of you?” I said.

  “Anything,” she said.

  “My friend, Emily, just had a baby. She’s a huge fan. I’m wondering if we can send her a picture of you?”

  “The woman from the motorboat?” said Gina with a smile. “She’s a local celebrity. We divas have to stick together. Forget a selfie, I’ll stop by the hospital.”

  We chatted for a while longer. After we said goodbye, I looked at the perfumer’s card, then pulled out my laptop. I emailed a note to my mom, and told her I would love to see her sometime soon. I’m not sure when I had last said that.

  I hit send. It might be days or weeks or months before I heard back, but I was glad I had written her. My inbox had a couple of good offers for Memorial Day sales, so I surfed around a little, hoping to find something good. I’d just hit a link to J.Crew when my inbox refilled with a note from my mom. It was a record for her. It was even more amazing when I opened her email to find that she would work on a trip home to Nantucket for some time soon.

  Tinker jumped on my lap and we took a snooze. By the time I woke up, my head had mostly cleared and I was looking forward to my date at the FIGAWI party. The Sunday night FIGAWI party closes the event. It’s a festive, but not fancy, affair. I threw on cream-colored leggings, a cheerful red top, which tied at the side in a bow, and added some red sandals that I had owned for about three years now, but still adored. I’ll probably be buried in these sandals. I was putting on a poncho that Cherry had made for me when I heard a knock at my door.

  At eight o’clock, with Peter by my side, we entered the FIGAWI tent to a great cheer from the locals who knew what had happened this weekend. It was a funny sight. Most of the room was dancing, intoxicated, and having the time of their lives, while my group was celebrating the release of Bill and the ocean adventure that had led to Mrs. Sterling’s arrest. To my sheer delight, Bill was at the party, holding Maude’s hand. They came up to me and gave me the biggest hug of my life. I noticed that Maude was wearing the spectacular lightship basket pin with a small diamond in it that Bill had bought for her from Jewel in the Sea. When I complimented it, she touched it and smiled at Bill.

  “The boys at the precinct helped me out so that Maude would have her special gift by our anniversary today,” he said. “They knew I’d missed out on overtime at the inn this weekend, so they passed the hat.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “And I’ve already made a call to Gambler’s Anonymous. I haven’t forgotten our deal.”

  I nodded confidentially, but I knew I was beaming.

  “They’re good boys at the precinct,” said Maude. “It was that Andy of yours who had the idea.”

  “Well, not mine, of course,” I said. I turned to Peter. “He has a girlfriend. We’re just friends. You know.”

  “I don’t mind a little competition,” he said with a wink.

  “No, really,” I said, but I was interrupted by a drunken arm tossed around my shoulder.

  “Stella Wright,” said the first of my clients to have canceled a unity candle order this weekend. “You are a star. Forget my message. We’re going to have loads of candles. Whatever you think is good. You have my vote of confidence.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile, and thought I might get a new license plate for my car, CNDLDY, along with a new window. “I’m glad you reconsidered. I promise we’ll do something unique and unforgettable.”

  “Woohoo!” she yelled and jumped back onto the dance floor.

  “Look,” said Peter, “there’s Bellamy.”

  Sure enough, Bellamy walked into the party. We caught eyes. To my surprise, he made his way toward me. I suppose I should have been happy that he was acknowledging me after such a rocky weekend, bu
t instead, I felt my temper begin to rise. If Bellamy had had his way, Bill would still be in prison, Mrs. Sterling would never have been suspected for murder, and I might have lost my new, rent-friendly wedding candle income. On the other hand, if it weren’t for Bellamy, I would not have discovered how much adventure existed right outside my doorstep.

  “Captain,” I said. I opened my purse and pulled out my parking ticket. “Given the circumstances of this weekend, I’m wondering if you can void this ticket for me?”

  “That’s not really my domain,” he said, but he took the ticket and crumpled it in his hands.

  I smiled, and wondered if I’d be getting a new copy in the mail next week.

  “I have a good story for you if you want it,” Bellamy said to Peter. “We picked up a truck filled with stolen bicycles about an hour ago. A kid whose bike was stolen followed the crook on his scooter, of all things, and called in the license plate. Kid’s over there now if you want an interview. One of my infamously speedy arrests.”

  “Thanks,” said Peter. “But I’m on a date. I’ll have to pass on this story.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Bellamy. “But it’s a good one.”

  Bellamy put his empty glass on a table beside us. Without so much as another word, he waved to the event’s chairman across the room and moved on. I looked at Peter, my eyes rolling with frustration. Peter smiled and clinked my glass. I drank, then I took his glass from him.

  “Can I make a confession?” I said.

  “More confessions?” Peter said. “I think we’re covered with Mrs. Sterling’s for at least a week. Or at least until the next issue of the paper comes out on Thursday.”

  “Seriously,” I said. “My head’s still a little fuzzy and the music isn’t helping. Maybe I’ll go home and you can interview that kid in the police station.”

  “Are you OK?” he said, looking concerned.

  “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. How about a picnic, tomorrow, Tupancy Links?” I said. “Nice and quiet.”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  With an unexpected but thoroughly impressive kiss on my lips as he dropped me off at my apartment a few minutes later, Peter was off to his next story. That kiss haunted my lips all night, and all the following morning. As the revelers from the sailing event of the season still slept on Monday morning, I made my way to Upper Main Street where a crowd gathered around the Civil War monument for Memorial Day.