Angora Alibi

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “Probably.” Everyone in town loved Janie. “But all those things—none of them add up to murder. You don’t kill someone for being a petty thief. At least Sea Harbor folks don’t.”

  A noise at the front door announced Birdie, Cass, and Danny. Cass’ brother, Pete, and Willow Adams were close behind.

  Birdie carried a platter of buttermilk brownies and lemon squares. “Sinful,” she said. “And all made by Ella and Gabby—who, I am sorry to say, have become master dessert makers.”

  Although Nell and Ben never knew how many people would show up on the deck Friday nights, they knew that good news or bad news was a magnet that pulled people together—to hug or laugh or cry or simply to sit around a fire and be.

  Tonight they’d be surrounded by friends.

  “And don’t even ask if I made this sourdough bread,” Cass said, setting down two round loaves. “No, of course I didn’t make it. Not only has Danny become a better knitter than I, but he’s learning how to bake bread. Jeez.”

  “Way to go, Brandley,” Pete said, and clapped the writer on the back.

  “She’s right. I mastered cables this week. There’s no stopping me now,” Danny said. He gave Nell a hug.

  Jane and Ham Brewster followed soon after and Izzy and Sam brought up the rear.

  “I tried to get Janie to come,” Izzy said. “Tommy was working tonight and I didn’t want to leave her alone. She’s still not used to the apartment and . . .” Izzy paused.

  But Nell knew exactly what she was thinking.

  And we still don’t know who is out there, and if there’s anyone else he wants to kill. Janie was too closely connected to Justin for them not to worry about her.

  “Anyway, she said no. She was going to do some knitting, and then spend some time with Dr. Lily.”

  “What does she do with all of those baby things she knits?” Ham asked, handing Ben a bottle of olives.

  “Most of them go to the free health clinic. She loves to knit. She’s says it’s her therapy,” Izzy said. “I get that. It’s mine, too.”

  “The police talked to her again yesterday,” Ben said. “I know that’s taking a toll on her. And Tommy’s miserable but can’t do a thing about it.”

  “The police can’t possibly think she has anything to do with Justin’s murder,” Jane said.

  Ben shook a silver martini pitcher and poured the liquid into the glasses he’d lined up. “Pretend you’re the chief,” he said, adding olives to each. “Janie said she hated Justin. She’d gone out on a limb for him more times than she can count, and he messed up every time. Apparently he even screwed up some things at the clinic, and Janie loves that place. She must have been mortified.”

  “But kill?” Ham said.

  “Okay, sure, we know she wouldn’t, couldn’t. But the police need to look at it from a distance.”

  “Ben’s right. They called my dad down to the station this afternoon,” Danny said.

  “Archie?” Jane said. “Good grief. What for?”

  Danny repeated the story his mother had told Nell and Birdie earlier. “My dad had misgivings about Justin from the beginning, even though my mom liked his smile. Dad thought he was trouble and only hired him to help out because Janie asked him to.”

  A familiar scenario. Janie had asked her friends to help him—and Justin had screwed up. For a brief moment, Nell wanted to kill him herself. She took the tray of marinated tuna steaks out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter.

  “Justin made bad decisions,” Ben said.

  “And that’s probably what got him killed,” Sam said. “But if everything we’re hearing is true, there were lots of people who might not want him around. People here are generous—but they don’t like being played for fools.”

  “But here’s a funny thing you should know,” Ben said. “I had a meeting with Father Larry a few days ago—before we knew the whole story of Justin’s death. We were talking about the church’s project for underserved youths, some of them orphans. He said he didn’t normally reveal people’s contributions, but he felt this was appropriate, and he told me that Justin Dorsey had come by Our Lady of Safe Seas last Saturday—the day before he died—and given him a contribution envelope marked for the project. When Father Northcutt opened it later, he found ten one-hundred-dollar bills inside—a thousand dollars.”

  Nell’s eyes widened. She pulled a stack of napkins from beneath the island.

  “Where would he have gotten money like that?” Cass said.

  “You think Justin had a little bit of Robin Hood in him?” Sam asked.

  Robin Hood. It somehow fit this young man who had mastered the art of making bad decisions and yet could win people over with a charming, sweet smile and then give money to kids who, like himself, didn’t have a very good start in life.

  “It could be a dangerous profession,” Ben said.

  Nell handed Izzy a platter of shrimp rolls, picked up a cheese and fruit platter, and ushered everyone out to the deck. “Fresh air,” she said.

  Ham Brewster shuffled through a stack of Ben’s old CDs until he found some old seventies tunes and let Simon and Garfunkel sing to them of peace.

  Drinks and appetizers were passed around, chairs and chaises pulled together, and the same Friday night magic that had embraced the group through births and deaths, through the best of times and the worst of times, took hold.

  “Janie’s the one suffering through all this. Not only is she suffering from having to be questioned about his murder—as if she might have had something to do with it—but she is convinced that if she had done more for Justin, he wouldn’t have done whatever he did to get himself killed,” Izzy said.

  “I wonder if Janie knows about the donation he made to the church,” Nell said. “I think she’d like hearing that.”

  “But where did he get that kind of money to give away? Certainly not from the hodgepodge of part-time jobs he had—or even the kind of petty theft he seemed to have enjoyed,” Jane said.

  “Did you hire him, Jane?” Nell asked, remembering the beautiful set of hand-blown pottery Justin had given Janie. “Was that how he paid for the dishes he gave Janie?”

  “I almost forgot about that. He came in the other day—it was Saturday morning, I think—and was looking at the most expensive collection I had. I tried to steer him away from them, but he refused to budge. He wanted the best, he said. So I suggested maybe he could help out in the gallery—we’re always in need of people to mail things for us, take orders off the Internet. He said no, he was busy— he might be getting into business for himself.”

  “What?” Ben said. “What kind of business?”

  “A surf shop, I think he said. Can you believe it? Some crazy thing that would cost a lot of money. Anyway, he said he’d pay for the pottery with cash. And he did. Lots of it. He had a fat wad of bills, all shoved in a fanny pack.”

  “He didn’t even give Jane a chance to give him a discount, which she would have done because he had a nice smile and my Jane can’t resist dimples.”

  Jane wrinkled her nose at her husband.

  But it was true. The Brewsters’ generosity to friends and family was limitless, and Ben sometimes wondered how they made any money.

  “Okay, so somewhere, somehow, from someone, Justin was getting cash,” Danny said.

  “And from what we’re guessing, it wasn’t through legitimate means,” Pete said.

  “But some of it went to good things, like the children’s fund,” Izzy said.

  “And dishes for Janie.”

  “Birdie, I’m still curious about Justin wanting to see you,” Willow said.

  “Now that I know he lost his room at Mrs. Bridge’s boardinghouse, I’m wondering if he was wanting a place to stay.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ben said. “Even for a young man who somehow thinks the world will provide for him, that seems a bit presumptuous.”

  Birdie agreed. But the young man had something on his mind, something he thought she could help hi
m with. And that befuddled her.

  Ben put the bluefin tuna steaks on the grill and brushed each one with the basil, garlic, and lemon butter sauce Nell handed him. The conversation fell silent while the intoxicating aroma of the fish and herbs wafted up from the grill in a white smoky cloud.

  “Ben, will you marry me?” Cass asked, her full attention given over to the appetite-enticing aromas around her.

  Willow and Nell disappeared inside, returning with Willow’s lobster risotto, Danny’s sourdough bread, and a leafy avocado and pecan salad.

  The dining table, already set for dinner and warmed by the glow of hurricane lamps, was comfortable and worn, and nestled beneath the protective branches of Nell’s favorite maple tree. They gathered around while Ben filled wine and water glasses, then held one in the air. “Birdie, my love. Please do the honors.”

  Birdie’s short silvery hair moved as she looked around to each person sitting at the table. Her words were clear, filled with the moment. “We give thanks for friends, for family, and for new life,” she said, her eyes lingering on Izzy and Sam. “And to those we shall protect, no matter what. Peace.”

  In minutes plates were filled with tuna steaks, the herbed aioli sauce was passed around, and conversations picked up.

  “So, Izzy dear, how did Jane and Willow ever talk you into this baby shower they’re planning?” Birdie asked.

  Izzy put down her fork and looked across the table at the two women in question. “Have you ever tried to say no to those two?” she asked. Her dark blond eyebrows lifted into streaked bangs as she glared at them. “I thought not.”

  They laughed.

  “Gabby is helping, too. It will be lovely and intimate and fun and make all of us feel good for having done it, so that’s that,” Jane said.

  “As long as we don’t have to play those crazy games, I’ll come,” Cass said.

  “Are guys invited?” Danny asked, and the conversation escalated to a heated discussion of whose baby was it, anyhow?

  Nell half listened to the conversation circling around her and leaned back, looking up at the impenetrable black sky, broken only by one or two flickering signs of a solar system. A majestic and infinite sea of darkness.

  “Nell?” Ben asked.

  Nell focused on Ben’s voice, and only then on the sound of the doorbell. It was becoming routine—interruptions to Friday-night dinners. At least when there was turmoil in their lives.

  “I’m up. I’ll go,” Ben said.

  For the second time in as many weeks, Janie Levin stood at the Endicotts’ front door, shivering, even in the warm June night, and was ushered inside.

  She apologized for the intrusion, but she needed to talk to Birdie.

  Janie’s face was pale as Ben led her to the deck. He pulled out a chair next to Birdie and insisted she sit and have a glass of wine.

  Birdie saw the stress in the nurse’s face. “We need to coax that lovely pink back into your cheeks, Janie,” she said.

  Janie sat down. She dropped her bag in her lap and took a sip of wine. “I think I should get this over with or I may just drink the whole bottle of wine.”

  “Would you like to talk in private?” Birdie asked.

  Janie shook her head no. It was clear she’d been crying again, but for the time being, the tears had stopped, and the determination on Janie’s face told them she would keep them at bay as best she could. She looked around the table. “You’re all my friends. I care about you—”

  Birdie placed a blue-veined hand on top of Janie’s. “And we love you, Janie. You know that. This is about Justin, I suspect. And we all have a soft spot in our hearts for him, too. No matter what.”

  “No matter what?” Janie said.

  “Of course. He might not have been the most responsible person in the world. He made some mistakes along the way. But the saddest thing about that is that one of those mistakes may have got him killed.”

  Janie looked down at her lap. Her fingers played with the buckle on her bag. “I don’t think this mistake is the one that got him killed, Birdie. But I don’t know, had I known about it . . . I might have been tempted. . . .” She managed a small smile and wiped away a tear that had somehow escaped and threatened to roll down her cheek. “But the thing is, Justin meant a lot to me. He was like a little brother, I guess. And I think underneath it all, he was a good person. I don’t want you to hate him. And that’s why this is all so hard.”

  “Janie, that won’t happen,” Nell assured her. “Absolutely not.”

  Janie took another deep breath and plunged in. “I was driving over to Dr. Lily’s tonight and thinking about everything that’s happened, and of course I started to cry again. So I pulled a tissue out of my glove compartment before going into her house. An envelope dropped out with the tissue. I thought maybe it was from a checkup, but then I spotted a scribble on the front that looked like Justin’s blocky print—and I remembered that he had borrowed my car last weekend.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Nell said. “We were with you that day.”

  Janie threw her a silent thank-you. Somehow having all parts of her story believed and verified seemed to be important to Janie.

  “Go on,” Birdie said.

  “It was bulky—the envelope. So I looked inside. I think it’s why he wanted to see you on Sunday.”

  Janie fumbled in her bag and pulled out an envelope. While everyone watched, she opened the end and poured the contents onto a napkin.

  A platinum chain fell out first, followed by a handful of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, sparkling in the candlelight. Finally Janie stuck two fingers back in the envelope and pulled out the remaining piece—two large entwined hearts.

  Birdie looked down at it. She fingered the hearts, and the trace of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “Goodness. Even with the jewels pried out, it’s still quite an unattractive necklace,” she said. She looked around the table. “I don’t believe it would even have looked nice on Tamara Danvers.” She shook her small white head and smiled in a comforting way, patting Janie’s quivering hand. “And most certainly not on Justin.”

  Chapter 15

  It was late Friday night when they finally went their separate ways.

  Ben had called Tommy at the station and invited him to drop by after his shift. He mentioned the double chocolate brownies—but also said Janie was there. She’d had a long night. His company would be welcome.

  Tommy showed up soon after and stayed close to Janie’s side, mostly listening while she filled him in.

  When she finished, Birdie looked at her long face and gave her a hug. “So much sadness isn’t productive, dear.” And then she told Janie about the donation Justin had made to Father Larry’s underprivileged children fund. “He wasn’t all bad, you see. You taught him some things, Janie.”

  “I knew kids like Justin when Ham and I lived in Berkeley in the early seventies,” Jane Brewster said. “Those were different times, but stealing didn’t seem so bad to runaway kids—and we met plenty of them. They had their own way of thinking: the store would always have more wallets and more knives. Rich people had more jewelry. Who would care? And if some of that money went to help someone who needed it, even better. And often it did. Like Ben said, there was an element of Robin Hood about it all—redistributing the goods to make the world a more equal place.”

  Birdie smiled at Janie. “We think Justin may have been playing Robin Hood.”

  For the first time that night, they saw the shadow of a smile on Janie’s pale face.

  The condition of the necklace was interesting, Tommy said. Justin had probably removed the gems because they’d be easier to sell. Certainly less recognizable than the distinctive necklace from which they came.

  “And he didn’t know it was Birdie’s,” Janie reminded them again. “None of us did.”

  Even Tommy agreed he’d probably not have done it if he knew whose necklace it was. And for Janie’s sake he held back the words they all knew were trying
to get out: But it was still wrong.

  “And who knows what he planned to do with the money he’d get for the jewels?” Ben reminded them. “Buy something for Janie? A Boys’ Club contribution? Put it in Father Northcutt’s collection basket?”

  The more they peeled away the layers of Justin Dorsey’s personality, the more of an enigma he became.

  Janie pointed to the scribble on the envelope. It was Birdie’s phone number. “He asked me about the necklace recently,” she said. “He wondered if it had been found.” She winced when she repeated his words, the lies still a fresh affront. “I told him it was Birdie’s jewelry and she had decided to simply let it all be, not report it.

  “At the time, I thought his reaction was kind of strange,” Janie went on, her eyes on Birdie’s face. “He was shocked that it was yours. And seemed very bothered by it. He liked you. He said you were one of the wisest women he’d ever met, and then he asked me to get him your phone number.” Tommy brought her a glass of water, and she went on.

  “So now I suppose I get it. As wrongheaded as his thinking was, Justin didn’t steal from friends or people he liked. Stealing from anonymous sources, like a store or an auction that had anonymous donations, was apparently okay, but not from real people, especially ones he knew I loved. So he was going to meet with you and make amends. He shoved the necklace in my glove compartment so he could take it to you Sunday after his dive. But . . . he never got that chance.” Her voice was filled with such sadness that they looked away and began bringing in the dishes, leaving Janie to her moment of grief.

  They looked at the necklace again, and thought of his other small thefts—books, a few small items from stores that Janie had found in his belongings, some wallets, fancy knives, scuba gear. But none of them could imagine anyone killing him for those things—and certainly not for an ornate necklace that its owner was happy to be rid of.

  After Tommy finished off the pan of brownies, he and Janie left, promising to be in touch. Soon the crowd had dwindled to a few.

  Ben scooped up the necklace pieces Janie had left, tossed the envelope on the kitchen island, and found a studier container for it. “There’s always next year’s auction,” he teased Birdie, then suggested Danny and Sam to join him on the deck for a glass of his prized Macallan.