“What do you mean?”
“Was he killed in a fight?”
“Oh, I guess. I heard he was beaten to death.”
Instinctively, Genia’s hand went to her heart. She couldn’t help but feel compassion for the man whose life had been so short and so sordid. “Oh, my. Do they know who did it?”
She half expected Celeste to say it was another drunken man down at one of the bars, and was dismayed when the answer was “Well, they found him in Kevin Eden’s boat, so maybe it was Kevin, or that delinquent son of his, what’s his name?”
“Jason,” Genia said, barely able to get the name out.
“Oh, Genia!” Her hostess turned with a look of such dramatic sincerity that Genia immediately sensed it was false. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot they’re your relatives. Please forgive me.”
Genia was unable to utter any such words at that moment.
It was her definite impression that Celeste had purposely set out to be cruel. If so, she had succeeded. Eddie Hennessey’s body found in Kevin’s boat! Genia felt like weeping at the new trouble that might now be roaring into the lives of her niece and the children. And Kevin, she amended guiltily. She mustn’t forget the twins’ father, even if he was divorced from their mother.
She put her fork down on the plate, all hunger fled.
“I never should have said that,” Celeste continued in the same tone of false remorse. “And I shouldn’t listen to gossip, either, but in my line of work, I hear everything, even the stuff that isn’t true. Now I know perfectly well that your nephew wasn’t growing marijuana up in that greenhouse of Stanley’s, was he? And he certainly didn’t kill Stanley, did he, Genia? That’s just absurd, isn’t it?”
Genia felt pummeled by one shock after another as she listened to the ugly words coming out of Celeste’s mouth. She knew that Jason was growing pot in the greenhouse? Jason killing Stanley? Feeling sick, she asked, “Is that what people are saying, Celeste?”
“What? About Jason?”
“Yes, that he was growing pot, or that he killed Stanley?”
“Who cares what people say? The important thing is the truth.”
“I care what people say about him,” Genia said as firmly as she could with a trembling voice. “He’s my nephew, Celeste. I want to know who told you these things.”
“Oh!” Celeste turned her back for a moment to do something at the sink. “It was Ed Hennessey, if you want to know. He just seemed to know everything about everybody, didn’t he? Maybe he shouldn’t have.” She turned around again, an odd smile playing at her lips. “Maybe it wasn’t good for his health.”
Genia sat silently, stunned and hurt, trying to absorb all she was hearing. Celeste was implying that Ed Hennessey had been killed because of something he knew about Jason, or about someone else. Celeste was implying many things, any of which might be totally false.
“When did he tell you all this, Celeste?”
“I don’t know. Last week sometime.”
“Why would he tell you?”
For the first time, the other woman looked hesitant. She picked up the sticky knife they had used to cut the kringle and turned around to wash it at the sink. With her back turned, she said, “Why not me? For all I know, he told a hundred other people.”
Genia decided to drop her own bomb at that moment.
“How did my grandmother’s brooch get into your jewelry box, Celeste?”
She saw the other woman’s shoulders tense.
“Your what?”
“I saw it last night, in your bedroom.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Celeste whirled around, her eyes narrowed, her voice loud and furious. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to tell David Graham that I’m a thief, and it’ll be your word against mine. I didn’t take your brooch, Genia. It must have fallen off your dress, and it got stuck to my shawl, somehow, and I carried it home accidentally with me. I was going to return it to you, and I just forgot about it. But I didn’t steal it. Why would I?” She gestured dramatically about her. “I already have everything anybody could want, don’t I? What in the world would I want with your ugly old brooch?”
Genia would have felt mortified if she weren’t so convinced it was all a lie, from start to finish. She stood up. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Celeste. I’m sorry to have troubled you over the brooch. I’ll let myself out.”
“Better hurry, Genia, before I snatch your earrings.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, Genia turned and strode back through the beautiful house by herself. She let herself out the heavy front door and quietly closed it behind her. When she got back into her car and placed her hands on the steering wheel, she saw they were shaking. That had been one of the most unpleasant scenes of her life. She feared she might have let her own pique goad her into making it worse. As she started to drive, she felt like kicking herself. But she didn’t even have time for that, because she needed to get right over to Donna’s to see if the Edens needed help. Suddenly, the implications of Celeste’s nasty words hit her so hard that she nearly ran her car off the road. With trembling hands she straightened her wheel just in time, coming within inches of hitting a parked van.
Rumors about Jason …
Hennessey’s body found in Kevin’s boat …
The morning had turned ugly and dark for her; a huge fear oozed its way into Genia’s heart and lodged there tightly in a space where there wasn’t room for it. For a moment she felt suffocated by a terror for her nephew that was even greater than what she had felt for herself the night before. Jason! What was happening in this town? Quaint little Devon had become a site of grisly murders in the space of a single week. And the deepest horror of all to her was that her small family was somehow connected to each of them. It was nearly more than Genia could stand. She didn’t know how Donna would bear this news.
20
COFFEE KlATCH
It seemed to Genia as if her leased car almost turned itself toward the edge of downtown Devon. Then it glided into a parking space in front of the small building that housed the Eden Art Gallery on the first floor and living quarters on the top two floors. Like its neighbors it was a red-brick Federal-style building. This one had originally been a single-family residence for a wealthy Devon sea captain. Now the little art gallery paid the mortgage, and Donna and her twins squeezed themselves into the narrow quarters up above. The guest room where Genia had stayed for two weeks was nearly a garret and had once been a servant’s quarters.
Genia walked shakily into the small shop and saw that Donna was helping a customer at the antique desk where she conducted her sales business.
Donna looked up at the sound of the bell and smiled at her aunt.
“Good morning! I’ll be with you in a minute, Aunt Genia.”
Obviously, Donna didn’t know yet about Hennessey.
“Is Jason home?” Genia asked with a glance upward. She couldn’t tell her niece about the second murder now, not with a customer in the shop. But what if someone called, or came in and told Donna about it while Genia was upstairs with her son? She’d have to take that chance; it seemed even more important at the moment to talk to Jason.
“I think he’s still asleep,” said his busy mother as she operated a credit card device. “He got in late last night, as usual. Go on up, why don’t you, and wake him up for me. If he’s not going to be working at the Castle anymore, I’ve got plenty of jobs for him to do.”
Genia went on through the shop and then up the mahogany steps to the living quarters. The three-story house had belonged to her late husband’s sister—Donna’s mother. It was the home Donna had been raised in, and it comprised the bulk of her inheritance from her parents, who had been Genia’s brother-in-law and sister-in-law. It was quite valuable, but Donna had always been understandably loath to sell it, or even to mortgage it to raise extra money for herself and her children. Genia quite admired her niece’s determination to work hard and to earn her living apart from her inheri
tance.
At the top of the staircase there was a small area that served as an entryway. Donna had furnished it sparsely but tastefully. A little antique table and chair were positioned below an oval mirror, and on the polished hardwood floor she’d placed a deep rose Oriental rug that had been left to her by her mother. The walls were painted white and held samples of Kevin’s charming work, as well as several oil paintings of regional scenery, done by other local artists whose work Donna showed downstairs. She had explained to Genia that she’d rather hang the art here than store it back where nobody could see it; this way, if she had an art lover who might be interested, she could bring him right upstairs to see how a particular painting looked in an actual residence. The children had grown up knowing how to scoot to the third floor when the sound of footsteps on mahogany announced the imminent arrival of paying customers. One morning, Genia herself had quickly lifted her morning teacup and gotten herself, still in her bathrobe, safely upstairs to her garret before Donna walked into the kitchen with a pair of Australian tourists who had wanted to see what Kevin’s work might look like in their home.
Several doors off the foyer led into the kitchen, living room, and master bedroom. As Genia walked past, she saw they were all empty this morning. She headed for the stairs leading to the children’s bedrooms. The garret where she had stayed had once been Kevin’s tiny art studio. Although she had not been out to see his barn/studio on Parker Island, she had heard the children say he now had “tons more space to work.”
At the top of the third floor, she called, “Jason?”
“Aunt Genia?” A muffled voice returned her call. “Hold on a sec.”
In only a moment the boy appeared, pulling a T-shirt down onto his chest. Below that were blue jeans and big bare feet. He grinned when he saw her. “T’sup?”
She had learned that meant, “What’s up?”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk to me, dear?”
“ ’Course, I always have time to talk to you. You’re my favorite aunt.” He planted a kiss in the air near her as he sailed past her, taking the steps two at a time. “Gotta have some coffee, though.”
With a sigh, Genia followed her grandnephew back down.
She found him already measuring dry coffee in the kitchen. She watched him finish that task, set the coffee to perking, and then open the refrigerator door, pull out a carton of milk, and guzzle the rest of its contents as he stood there. If she hadn’t been so sick at heart for his sake, she would have just smiled and enjoyed watching him. He grabbed an open box of donuts from a countertop, plunked them down on the small kitchen table, and gestured for her to join him. “Sorry, but I just got up, and I’m starved. Want a chocolate sprinkle? I don’t recommend the plain cake donuts, they’re boring.”
Genia selected a chocolate donut with chocolate icing.
“Jason, there’s been another murder in town.”
“No shit! I mean, I’m sorry, Aunt Genia, excuse my language. No kidding?”
His surprise seemed utterly genuine to her.
“Ed Hennessey was killed down at the docks last night.”
Jason raised his eyebrows in an expression of even greater surprise. But then he snorted and said, “Good. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Who did it?”
“I don’t know.”
“How’d it happen?”
“He was beaten to death.”
The boy grimaced. “Ow. I guess nobody deserves that.”
“Jason, they found his body in your father’s boat.”
He stared at her, as if he hadn’t understood. “Dad’s boat?”
“Yes. Jason, there are rumors. About you, about Mr. Parker’s death, and now about Ed Hennessey being found in your dad’s boat.”
“What kind of rumors?”
She just looked at him, not knowing how to say it.
And suddenly he understood what she meant. His face darkened, and a look of helplessness seemed to come over his whole body. He leaned forward, bony elbows resting on the tabletop, his chin propped in his palms. Unkempt hair poked through his splayed fingers. He rocked slowly back and forth, his eyes focused on the distance. He mumbled into the space between his hands, “Oh, shit. This is a nightmare. I’m a dead man.” When he looked at her, his eyes were rimmed in red, as if he were on the verge of crying. “They think I did it, don’t they? Because of the drugs, because I worked for Mr. Parker, because everybody knew I hated Ed Hennessey, but hell, who didn’t? You want to know the weirdest thing, Aunt Genia?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“The only person who could help me out right now is Mr. Parker.”
“Why, Jason? Is it because of what you think you can’t tell me?”
With every show of reluctance, he nodded affirmatively.
She knew that anything she said now could make a huge difference in the boy’s life, so she thought carefully before she spoke. Finally, she said, “Jason, I don’t know what secret the two of you had, but I think I can guess. If I do, will you tell me?”
“I can’t! I promised him.”
“Would he want you to go to jail to keep that promise?”
The boy looked shocked to hear her ask that. “No,” he said slowly. “I guess not. No! Mr. Parker would never want that.” Suddenly, a rueful smile tugged at his woebegone expression. “Aunt Genia, I think I have been an idiot.”
“It happens to all of us at one time or another, dear.”
“I probably should have told you. Go ahead and guess, okay?”
“All right. Here’s what I think. My dear friend Stanley Parker was in a lot of discomfort this summer, and lately it seemed to be getting quite a bit worse. He would never admit any such thing to me, but I felt that he was ill. I think the illness—possibly cancer?—caused him increasing pain. Marijuana eases the pain of cancer patients. Is that why you were growing it for him, Jason?”
His eyes had widened in a look of admiration.
“Yes! That’s amazing. You’re good, Aunt Genia.”
She smiled sadly at him. “Elementary, my dear Jason. And that’s why your sister and your father were so mad at him, right? And that’s why I feel like killing him myself. How could he ask you to do that, knowing you were already in trouble over marijuana?”
“He didn’t know who else to ask, Aunt Genia.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Well, hold on, give me a chance to explain. He already had a prescription for marijuana that a doctor had given him, but it wasn’t strong enough. He was really in a lot of pain a lot of the time, Aunt Genia. I think he was kind of desperate. And he had all these things he wanted to do before he died, and he wanted to feel well enough to do them. And there was that greenhouse, just the perfect place to grow his own private crop of medicine. And he figured I would know how to roll a joint … which I do … and I could teach him just enough so that he could do it for himself.”
“But the risk to you, Jason!”
“He said he was a powerful guy,” the boy answered her, with a naiveté that would have made her smile if she hadn’t felt so exasperated at her dear, late friend Stanley. “He said he could get us out of any trouble we got into.”
“Oh, Stanley!” she exclaimed, raising her palms skyward and rolling her eyes heavenward. “Of all the egotistical …”
“I didn’t do much, Aunt Genia, I just got the seeds for him to plant, and some papers to roll the joints in, and I may have rolled a few for him. But he found out he didn’t like to smoke it, he’d rather eat it in—”
“Jason? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, my God, Aunt Genia. Cookies. I ate three big cookies the last time I was at the greenhouse, the day after he died. I didn’t even think that there might be pot in them. I’ll bet that’s how it got in my system. Damn it! Mr. Parker usually put it in brownies, but I’ll bet he made marijuana cookies the last time. Shit! Excuse me. But who’s going to believe that?”
“I do,” she said.
“And I do, too,” said a vo
ice from the kitchen doorway.
Genia and her nephew both looked up, startled.
“Mom! What did you hear?”
“Enough.” Donna looked at her aunt. “I know about Ed Hennessey, I just heard from Kevin, and they want Jason down at the police station in fifteen minutes. They’ve found some of his things in the boat—”
“Mom! I always have stuff in the boat—”
His mother’s face was ashen, anguished. “Of course you do, honey, so does your sister, so does your dad. We’ll just tell them that, they’ve got to see that’s only reasonable.”
“Mom, are you mad at me?”
“About the pot? No,” his mother said, and an expression of surprise came over Jason’s face. “It may not have been the wisest thing you ever did, but how were you supposed to say no to a sick old man? If I’m mad at anybody, I’m mad at Stanley. But in a strange way I think I’m proud of you for trying to help him. Jason, I know you think I’ve been really hard on you this summer, but I’ve been so worried about what will happen to you.” In the doorway, his mother began to cry. Quickly, the boy got up from his chair and ran over to her and took her in his arms in a bear hug. From the kitchen table, Genia heard her muffled voice say, “I love you so much, and I’m so worried.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Genia stood up at the kitchen table and said in a firm, decisive voice, “Where’s the phone number for your lawyer, Donna? We’re not going to that police station without her. Jason, you are not to say a single word to the police unless your lawyer tells you it’s all right. Donna, the same goes for you and Kevin, and for Janie, if they want to talk to her. We know the truth, which is that Jason is as innocent as the rest of us, and we’re not going to let anybody bully him into taking the blame for crimes he did not commit. You two get ready to go. Give me the lawyer’s number, and I’ll arrange for her to meet us there.” At the look on Donna’s face, Genia added, “And don’t you worry about money, Donna. Your uncle Lew would want me to help you, and that’s what I’m going to do, all the way to the end when people start apologizing to Jason for thinking such awful things about him. Comb your hair, Jason. Dry your eyes, Donna. We may be an innocent family, but we are not to be trifled with, not if I have anything to say about it. Now, what’s that phone number?”
The Secret Ingredient Murders: A Eugenia Potter Mystery Page 19