by Lea Wait
“Hello, Maggie Summer? This is Waymouth Deputy Owen Trask. I believe we’ve met before.”
“Yes; I remember,” answered Maggie. Owen Trask was Nick’s local Waymouth Sheriff’s Department contact on murder cases. She remembered him as young, determined, and in Nick’s shadow.
“Detective Strait asked me to return your call. How can I help you?”
Maggie hesitated. Nick had cautioned Aunt Nettie not to talk to anyone but him.
“I’d rather speak directly with Nick.”
“Wouldn’t we all?” Deputy Trask sighed audibly. “He isn’t here now. He’s up to Augusta, with the medical examiner. He told me you or Ms. Brewer might call. That you were checking sources for him.”
Then it wasn’t a tightly held secret, at least not from Owen Trask. “I was calling to update him,” said Maggie. “This morning Nettie Brewer and I talked with Ruth Weston. Carrie Folk had tried to blackmail her. She’d asked Ruth for one hundred thousand dollars. It was similar to what she tried with Nettie, but in Ruth’s case it worked. Ruth gave Carrie ten thousand dollars and promised her more in the new year. Carrie was insistent she needed the rest within the next month, but refused to say why.”
“Did Ruth tell anyone else about this?”
“She says she didn’t.”
“Did she have any ideas about anyone else Carrie Folk might have approached for money?”
“She and Nettie both think Carrie was basing her threats on rambling things Betty Hoskins, Ruth’s sister, said while Carrie was taking care of her. Betty’s in her eighties and has Alzheimer’s. She gets the past and the present confused.”
“So based on the confused thinking of a senile old woman Carrie Folk managed to patch together what she felt was enough incriminating information to ask Ruth Weston for one hundred thousand dollars—and Ruth started to pay it?” asked Deputy Trask.
“That’s right. Carrie’s probably the source of her information about Nettie Brewer, too.”
“I’ve seen the letter Nettie gave Nick. I’m sorry she had to go through that. Clearly it was embarrassing for her, but what was in the letter was hardly serious enough to warrant blackmail. Even Carrie must have known that. She only asked for twenty-five thousand. One hundred thousand is a lot more.”
“Nettie and Ruth seemed to think the difference in the amounts asked was because Carrie knew Ruth was better off financially.”
“Maybe so. What was she threatening to reveal about Ruth?”
Maggie’d been waiting for that question. “I don’t know. Nettie and Ruth both seemed to know what it was, but they didn’t say it out loud, so I have no idea.”
“Okay. So Ruth’s now on our list. She’s a suspect. She was being blackmailed for some dark past secret.”
“I guess she has to be on your list for now. But she’s almost as old as Nettie,” Maggie reluctantly agreed. “And her son and daughter-in-law, Brian and Jenny Weston, and their baby were in the house that night, too, along with her sister, Betty. Ruth would have been up, or dozing, most of the night, watching Betty. And the baby has colic, so Brian and Jenny didn’t sleep well. If Ruth had left the house someone in the family would have noticed.” Although, Maggie thought to herself, Ruth and Betty would have been on the first floor, and the young couple on the second floor, unless they’d gone down to the kitchen to heat formula or to the living room to play Santa Claus.
“Good point,” said Deputy Trask. “I was planning to talk to the Westons’ neighbors to see if anyone’d seen a member of the family leaving their house late that night or early Christmas morning. I’ve just moved that item up on my priority list.”
“One more thing,” Maggie added. “Do you know anything about Brian Weston? I mean, personally?”
“Brian Weston?” Deputy Trask paused. “He grew up here in Waymouth, of course. He’s about ten years older than I am, so I didn’t know him well. He was sort of a dork. The kind of kid who tries to be cool but gets caught every time he scores a smoke or a six-pack. I remember hearing once he’d been caught in the high school cafeteria sharing liquor from a thermos he’d filled from his family’s liquor cabinet. That sort of thing. Why?”
“Ruth Weston said he was a successful lawyer at a Philadelphia bank; that he’d recently bought a new house. He has a young blond wife, and a new baby.”
“Good for him. Guess he’s not a dork anymore.”
“While I was at their house this morning I walked in on him. He was in his mother’s room, rummaging through her desk as though he was looking for something. He took several papers before he left.”
“Interesting. And you’re wondering?”
“I’m wondering whether he found out about the blackmail. Maybe he found the letter from Carrie. Or, if Ruth paid her the ten thousand dollars by check, maybe he found the receipt. Or he overheard them talking. I don’t know. But if he thought his mother was being blackmailed, that might give him a motive.”
“Good thought. Although I’d think a blackmailer would want cash, there might be evidence that Ruth withdrew the money from somewhere. Nick has all the papers and the computer the crime scene crew removed from Carrie Folk’s house. I’ll follow up with him and see whether she deposited the money Ruth says she gave her. I’ll also make a note to see what I can find out about Brian Weston. We hadn’t gotten to the possibility of anyone else finding out about the blackmailing yet.” Maggie could hear paper rustling at the other end of the line. Deputy Trask was not working in an all-electronic environment. “And you’re sure neither Ruth nor Nettie thought of anyone else Betty Hoskins could have mentioned when her mind was wandering? Any random thoughts? Carrie Folk’s done home nursing for families in Waymouth for years. She probably knew more about folks around here than most people. It seems strange she’d choose two old ladies to blackmail.”
“Maybe they’re not the only ones. Or maybe she thought of them because they’re the ones she’s been with most recently. I have no idea. But I agree. Nettie’s incident happened in the 1940s, and I have a feeling that whatever Ruth’s secret was, it’s been hidden for a long time, too. They mentioned that Betty had secrets of her own, but of course, she has no money, and Ruth would know if Carrie were attempting blackmail on her behalf. They did mention three other names—Susan, who I assumed was Susan Newall, and Mary, Doreen Strait’s mother. And a Gloria. I don’t know anything about her. But all three women are dead, so they’re not prime candidates for blackmail either.”
“I wouldn’t think so.” Deputy Trask sighed. “What about Betty’s daughter, Miranda? If we’re considering Ruth’s son, seems to me we should think about Betty’s daughter.”
“Why? If Betty wasn’t being blackmailed, that doesn’t make sense. Although Miranda was in Waymouth at the party Christmas Eve with her spouse, Joan. I think they were spending the night here in town, but not at Ruth’s house.”
More rustling of papers. “That’s somewhere in my notes. They live in Portland, but stayed over at the Captain’s Quarters on Christmas Eve and came back to the Westons’ house to open gifts Christmas morning. They’re back in Portland now.” Trask cleared his throat.
“If Carrie had a nasty story about Miranda’s mother, maybe she tried to get money out of Miranda.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” said Maggie. That sounded a little far-fetched. At this point Betty couldn’t care what was said about her.
“Could you see what you can find out about Miranda Hoskins? You being a woman and all.”
That would qualify me, Maggie thought. Along with fifty percent of the population. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised, a bit tartly. “But I only have a few more days here. Isn’t that your job?”
Pause. Deputy Trask’s voice dropped. “I know Nick’s Will’s friend. So you probably know Nick has family issues right now. I’m helping him out here. Waymouth’s Sheriff’s Department doesn’t report directly to the Maine State Police, so I’ve got my own job, too, and this time of year there’s a lot going on. I’d reall
y appreciate your help. As I remember, you’re good at this, Maggie. As a favor?”
Weird. Was Nick having that many problems with Zelda?
“Okay, Owen. I’ll find out what I can about Miranda. But fair is fair. You let me know if you find anything that heads you in another direction. Because I came to Maine for a vacation. And so far I haven’t had much of one.”
“Deal. And I owe you a beer. And maybe a batch of Christmas cookies. My wife makes terrific Christmas cookies.”
Just what she needed. Maggie looked down at the tight waistband of her jeans. More Christmas cookies.
———
“So, how was your morning playing detective?” Will hung his L.L. Bean barn jacket on a hook inside the kitchen door.
“Added a couple of possible suspects to the list,” Maggie answered. “How was your lunch with Jo?”
“Lunch was fine. Jo wasn’t the only one there. She’d brought Art Krieger along, the lawyer she’s suggesting I use to look at the contract, if we go to one. He’s new to town, and hungry for clients. Seems nice enough. We talked about several things I’d like negotiated, and he agreed to work on them. Plus, he’ll give me a special rate for doing the house plus a new will, power of attorney, and medical directive. All things I need to take care of anyway.”
“So you’re negotiating for the house?”
“Work in progress.” He bent over and kissed her. “Aunt Nettie napping?”
“I think talking with Ruth this morning exhausted her.”
“Did Ruth receive one of those blackmail letters, too?”
“Hers asked for a hundred thousand dollars. She gave Carrie ten thousand, with the promise of more after the first of the year.”
Will whistled. “Ruth must have a serious secret.”
“I guess. She didn’t share it with me. I’m hoping Nick’s able to figure out why Carrie needed the money. That would help explain why she was doing this.”
“I ran into him at the restaurant. He said Carrie’d been researching cancer treatments on the Web, and high-end facilities for people like Billy.”
Then Nick wasn’t in Augusta with the medical examiner. Or maybe he’d gotten back and hadn’t checked in with Owen.
“Ruth mentioned Carrie’d taken days off for doctors’ appointments. Maybe either she or Billy had cancer. That could explain why she needed money. Treatments can be expensive.”
Will shrugged. “When they get the medical examiner’s report back they’ll know if it was Carrie. If it was Billy, that would be important to know before they find him a place to live.”
“They haven’t heard from the medical examiner yet, then?”
“Didn’t sound that way. But I just saw Nick in passing. Why?”
“I talked with Owen Trask about an hour ago. He said Nick was in Augusta, with the medical examiner.”
Will shook his head. “Owen must have gotten mixed up. An hour ago Nick was at The Great Blue. Maybe he was going to Augusta after that.”
“Maybe.”
“Why were you talking to Owen?”
“I called Nick. Owen returned my call. He’s helping out with the investigation. He’s going to check out Ruth’s son Brian, on the chance that Brian found out about the blackmail. He’s asked me to talk to Betty’s daughter, Miranda. Do you know anything about her?” Maggie knew she was sharing more information about the investigation than she should. But Aunt Nettie had promised not to tell anyone what she found out. Maggie hadn’t promised. And Nick was Will’s friend. She didn’t think he’d mind Will’s knowing.
“Not a thing. I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. Other than seeing her across the room at the party the other night, of course.”
“But you did know her?”
“She and Brian are both about the same age as Nick and I, so they were around town when we were young. But I was only here summers, so I didn’t know the local kids the way Nick did. I just remember Miranda lived in that big house and hung out at the library. Not a party type. Brian was sort of a hanger-on. He tried to be one of the crowd, but never quite got it right. You know; the kind of kid who wears a buttoned shirt when everyone else wears a T-shirt. I knew who he was, but didn’t know much about him. Nick would know his whole story. I think they were in the same class at school.”
“Brian was a lost soul who kept getting in trouble because he wanted so hard to be liked. He’d be the one who’d buy beer for underage parties, and then his ‘friends’ would tell the police he’d done it…and keep most of the beer he’d bought for themselves.” Aunt Nettie had appeared in the doorway of her room leaning on her cane. “Miranda was the smart one. She’s never been in any kind of trouble. She lives in Portland, and thinks her mother should be in a nursing home for people with Alzheimer’s, not at home with Ruth. To give her the benefit of the doubt, I believe she thinks it would be best for Ruth, too, if Ruth would let go, and trust other people to care for poor Betty. But Ruth refuses to consider that.”
“With Carrie gone, it’s going to be especially hard for Ruth,” said Maggie. “I can see Miranda’s point.”
“But Ruth won’t let go. They’ve been together too long. Miranda wants to have a say in the care of her mother, and Ruth won’t listen to her. Then she complains when Miranda doesn’t come to visit Betty more often, even though Betty doesn’t always recognize her.”
“What does Miranda do for a living?”
“She owns a fancy clothing boutique in the Old Port. What we used to call cocktail dresses and prom dresses and elegant gowns for garden parties. Lord knows who buys them nowadays. Maybe there are benefits for the Portland Museum or other galas. I understand Portland is more high-style than it used to be.”
“And her partner?”
“Joan’s a dentist. So the two of them are set for fancy dresses and white teeth.” Aunt Nettie shook her head. “Owen Trask thinks you should investigate Miranda? I’ll leave that up to you. I can’t see Miranda in her finery murdering anyone, and Portland’s a mite far for me to journey. Maybe Will would go with you.”
Maggie looked at him. “Will? I’ve never made it to the Portland Museum of Art. They have several Winslow Homers I’d love to see. Do you think tomorrow we could make a field trip?”
“Actually, I’d hoped we could take at least one day in Portland.” He hesitated, and then tapped his pocket. “As long as I keep my cell phone turned on, I don’t see why it shouldn’t be tomorrow. Aunt Nettie, if I make up a sandwich for your lunch, and we get back by the middle of the afternoon, will you promise to take it easy? I could see if Cousin Rachel could come to visit you.”
“Don’t you go bothering Rachel for those few hours,” Aunt Nettie said. “I’ll be fine. You two go have fun. I may be old, but I’m not doddering or senile.”
Thank goodness, Maggie thought. Although who would guess that anyone’s losing their memory would lead to murder?
17
City of Portland, Maine. Map of city, black-and-white (slightly off-white with age) with surrounding water (and parks and cemetery inside city) blue. Detailed; shows and names streets and wharves. Also shows a little of Deering, Cape Elizabeth, Back Cove, Fore River, and adjoining Portland Harbor (not Casco Bay). 1880 or 1890. Map outer dimensions 9.5 x 12 inches; on paper 11.5 x 14 inches. From an atlas of the period. Price: $70.
As Will headed the car out of Waymouth and down Route 1, Maggie reached over and touched his knee. “An adventure! We haven’t been out of Waymouth since I arrived.”
“And it’s time. I do love Aunt Nettie and that town. And I love living in Maine, Maggie. I do. But there are days I feel a bit strangled.” He looked over at her. “After having lived in Buffalo, and spending years traveling to do antiques shows in Boston, New York, Philadelphia…well, I need to at least get to Portland more often. Portland’s growing up, and it’s growing in the right direction. In the past few years it’s become an exciting place to visit.”
“We have the day. We don’t need to get back until late afterno
on. That meatloaf you made last night won’t take long to heat for dinner. I’m assuming Miranda will be at her boutique after Christmas, and talking to her shouldn’t take long.”
“I hope not. But after all, it’s your talking with her that’s giving us an excuse to go to Portland to begin with. Last night I was thinking we could spend all day down in the Old Port, near the harbor, exploring the little stores and galleries and restaurants there.”
“But those Homers…”
“I know. You want to see the Homers, but they don’t have a special exhibit of them up now, and seeing their regular exhibit won’t take all day. There are so many places I’d love to show you in Portland.” Will glanced at her. “You’ve never visited the Victoria Mansion, and this is the best time of year to see it, when it’s decorated for Christmas. And I know we can’t stay long enough to see the harbor lights or even the city Christmas trees lit, but we have to go to the Ice Bar.”
“What?”
“The Ice Bar. In fact, I’m not going to tell you what it is. I have it all planned out. I’m going to drop you off at Elegant Attire, and then, while you’re interviewing Miranda Hoskins, I’ll pick up fantastic pastries at the best bakery in town. I’ll meet you at the boutique, and we’ll do a little Old Port exploring, and then visit the Victoria Mansion, and finish up at the Portland Museum of Art.”
Maggie laughed. “It sounds complicated. And busy.”
“But possible. Portland’s a small city. We can hit a few highlights in a day.” Will looked delighted that he’d figured out what they would be doing. “Food, drink, old, new, and my very favorite lady. I can’t imagine a better day.”
He switched on the radio and twisted the dial until carols filled the car.
Elegant Attire’s windows were lined with tiny white lights. Inside were a Christmas tree shaped from a tower of white poinsettia plants, and a mannequin dressed in a dark green silk gown cut high in the front, and draped low—very low—in back. Wide green ribbons matching the gown were artfully strewn on the floor.