“Arsenic,” said Lockwood. “Good God.”
“I was supposed to return on a later boat. My older brother planned to meet me, but I haven’t been able to reach him.”
“How horrible,” said Lockwood. “Do they know how the arsenic…” He paused. “Rather, do they know who was responsible for the arsenic? Something the dentist administered in error?”
“Who knows. It’s possible my brothers planned the whole thing. They just might have.”
“Your brothers,” said Lockwood.
“Well, maybe either one of my two brothers.”
“What did you say your name is?”
“Heather.”
“I’m Woody.” He held out his hand and she held out her plump one and they shook. “Where are you staying?”
“At my grandmother’s place.” She made a face that Lockwood supposed meant to indicate grief. “She owns, or owned, I guess, about fifty acres overlooking the ocean.”
“Fifty acres!” Lockwood swallowed. “And you’ll inherit it?”
“There are four of us. The will is being read tomorrow. Not soon enough for me. I’ve got to get back to work in LA.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I work at one of the studios.”
“Impressive,” said Lockwood.
“Hardly.” She shrugged. “I make coffee and sort through screenplays that people who think they can write submit.”
They talked pleasantries until the ferry passed West Chop. Lockwood’s mind was on the heiress-to-be as well as his ex-wife.
“I was headed for West Tisbury, but I’ll be happy to give you a ride,” he said. “Chilmark is only a few miles farther on.”
“Would you? That’s so nice of you.” Heather fluttered her long eyelashes.
Lockwood glanced out the window. “Rounding the harbor jetty now. Might as well go down to my car. Jeep, actually.” He folded his newspaper and tucked it into his briefcase.
When they both stood up she looked up at him. “Wow, I didn’t realize how tall you are.”
“You’re tall yourself,” he answered.
“Yeah. I don’t usually have to look up to a guy.”
They left the lunchroom, pushed open the heavy door, crossed the open deck, worked their way down the stairway to the car deck, and settled into the Jeep.
Waiting for the boat to dock, Heather said, “It’s always good to get back to the Island.”
“I take it you spent some time here?”
“From when I was ten until about ten years ago. My brothers and I left. My grandmother was a pain in the ass.”
“Your grandmother must have quite a place,” said Lockwood.
“Yeah. I guess,” said Heather.
The ferry eased into the slip, deckhands ratcheted the ramp down, chains clanked, cars started up, and the lines of vehicles moved off the ferry.
Heather and Lockwood were silent for most of the drive. Lockwood was thinking how Elizabeth expected him to arrive shortly. She can worry for a while. Good discipline. He’d take his time. Go up to Chilmark with this woman. He’d like to know why she was so cavalier about her grandmother’s death. In the dentist’s chair. Arsenic. Murder. Yet she’d smiled. Fifty acres with a water view. However she played it, Heather was going to come into a good bit of money. Worth getting to know her.
* * *
Elizabeth tried to focus on odd jobs she hadn’t planned for the rest of her unexpected day off, but every time the phone rang she started. Every time a car drove past she wondered if Lockwood was about to turn into the drive. She couldn’t write, she couldn’t read. She went out to weed the garden and was afraid he’d suddenly appear before she was aware of his presence. She didn’t want to leave her grandmother alone in case he showed up.
In the late afternoon Victoria suggested they take a picnic supper to Menemsha and watch the sunset. “I think it’s going to be a nice one,” she added. “It’s going to rain later tonight.”
“Suppose he’s keeping an eye on us and chooses then, when we’re away, to hide himself in the house?”
“He wouldn’t do that,” said Victoria.
“Yes, he would,” said Elizabeth. “He’s done it before.”
“We can’t let fear rule us,” said Victoria. “I’ve packed cucumber sandwiches for you, an egg custard for me, and a bottle of wine. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 16
While Elizabeth was agonizing over the reappearance of her ex-husband, Dr. Aileen McBride and Scott, Mrs. Wilmington’s eldest grandchild, were seated at a table in the front window of the Tidal Rip. She wore a green silk T-shirt that seemed almost fluorescent in the late-afternoon sunlight. The color matched the color of her eyes. The light picked up red highlights in her auburn hair. As though she was aware of the effect, she flicked her long braid over her shoulder with a casually graceful gesture.
Scott watched with a faint smile. He’d clasped his hands on top of the table. Although the day was not cool, he was wearing a long-sleeved plaid flannel shirt.
She reached her hand across the table and placed it on top of his. “I called you, Scott, because I wanted to meet you and tell you how awful I feel about your grandmother’s death.”
“Thanks for your condolences, Aileen. It’s difficult for all four of us, of course. But it must have been a horrible experience for you, her dentist, with her in your chair.” He withdrew his hands and reached for the drinks list. “Clearly, there was nothing you could have done to save her.”
“I appreciate that, Scott.” She brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen attractively onto her forehead.
He examined the list, then looked up and studied her for a few moments. “You weren’t fond of my grandmother, were you?”
Aileen flushed. “Really, Scott.” She sat back.
“I didn’t mean that quite the way that sounded. But knowing my grandmother, she must have been a difficult patient.”
“I’m a doctor, Scott. Personalities don’t enter into the doctor-patient relationship.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He looked down again at the list.
“I suppose we should order our drinks,” Aileen said. “Since I invited you, I’m paying.”
“Not necessary. I’m carrying a platinum card and I’m a gentleman.” Scott shifted in his seat, withdrew his wallet from his jeans pocket, and set it on the table.
“Well,” said Aileen. “Thanks.”
The waitress arrived and withdrew a pencil from behind her ear. “What’re you folks having?” She held her notepad ready.
“A Jameson for me,” said Aileen.
Scott ordered a Sam Adams. She made a note, stuck her pencil back behind her ear, and left.
“I don’t suppose they have anything to eat,” said Aileen.
“Peanuts and pretzels.”
“That’s something, anyway. I’m starved.”
Scott looked at his watch. “I’d invite you out to dinner, but I have to meet my sister on the five o’clock ferry.”
“I’ll take a rain check.” Aileen brushed the stray curl off her forehead again. “There are some good things to recall about your grandmother.”
“Like what? She was active in the Garden Club. That’s the only good thing I know about her, and I’m not sure that was all good.”
“She came by the clinic often.”
“Oh? Some recommendation.”
“I suppose a consoling factor is you’ll inherit that beautiful property, not that that makes up for her sad loss.”
Scott leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Look, you don’t need to treat me like the grieving grandson.”
The waitress returned with a glass of whiskey and a frosty mug of beer. “Anything else?”
“How about peanuts?”
“Peanuts it is.” The waitress left.
Aileen lifted her glass.
He clinked his mug against it.
“Mrs. Wilmington had been my patient less than a year.” She set her glass down without drinking
. “She was my first patient when I joined the staff.”
“The other dentists must have been glad to see you. Pass off a problem. Did you see much of her in that short time?”
“We did.” Aileen rolled her eyes. “She was the dental equivalent of a hypochondriac.”
“You said she came to the clinic often?”
“Every month, regular as clockwork. Not only that, but in between she stopped by occasionally with flowers or candy.”
“Candy? For a dentist’s office?”
Aileen shrugged. “We didn’t object.”
“Coming from Chilmark it was kind of going out of her way, wasn’t it?”
“I think she had a thing for Dr. Mann.” Aileen took a sip of her whiskey. “She took an intense and instant dislike to my assistant, Jane Douglas, for some reason.”
“Do you know why?”
“Only a suspicion on my part. Dr. Mann, the head of the clinic, you know?”
He nodded.
“Dr. Mann recommended we hire Jane and he paid a lot of attention to her. Mrs. Wilmington didn’t like that.”
“You mean, my old granny was jealous?” Scott laughed.
“It seemed that way.”
“I don’t know the clinic’s staff.” Scott wiped the condensation off his mug with a hand.
“Of course. I wasn’t thinking. Jane is new at the clinic, in her early twenties, and has platinum-colored hair.”
“Was she there at the time Grandmother had the attack?”
“Yes. She was just handing me a towel when it happened.” Aileen glanced out the window. “She rushed into the lavatory and threw up. She managed to avoid most of the great cleanup.” She took a sip of whiskey and held the glass up in front of her with both hands. “When she finally came out she went into shock and fainted.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t go into shock.”
“I’m a trained dentist. We don’t fall apart if something happens to a patient.” She took another sip, avoiding his eyes.
“I gather that you’re not exactly fond of your assistant, either.”
“You’re perceptive, aren’t you? Just wrong chemistry between Jane and me, I guess.”
“How did you happen to hire her?”
“I didn’t hire her. My boss, Dr. Mann, did.”
“How come?”
She shrugged. “Who knows. She spent summers here. They probably met playing tennis or yachting. She’s the type.”
The waitress came back with a bowl of peanuts. “Sorry it took so long.” She leaned forward and wiped off the table with the damp cloth she was carrying.
“No problem,” Scott said.
The waitress left.
Aileen went on. “She’s quiet. She’s competent. Patients love her, except for your grandmother.” Aileen moved her glass around in a circle. “You know, in the clinic after Mrs. Wilmington’s visit, we’d joke about her. How she was always simpering over Dr. Mann.” She looked down at the glass. “I shouldn’t talk about your grandmother like this to you.”
“Who better?” said Scott.
* * *
That same afternoon, the regulars gathered on the porch at Alley’s Store. Joe, the plumber, the first to arrive, was leaning against one of the posts that held up the roof, his cheek distended with a new chunk of Red Man. Lincoln Sibert had his back against the door frame. Sarah Germain, who was usually the first of the porch sitters, hadn’t arrived yet from her job at Tribal Headquarters.
Joe yawned, pushed his faded red baseball cap back with a forefinger, and scratched his forehead. “You heard any more about Mrs. Wilmington?”
“Not me,” said Lincoln. “Last I heard they figured it must be a heart attack.”
Joe pulled his hat back over his forehead. “Her? Heart attack? No way. She was a tough old bird.”
“She wasn’t that old. Sixties?”
Joe shrugged. “Around that. Seventy, most likely.”
Lincoln pulled up the sleeve of his plaid shirt and checked his watch. “Sarah’s late.”
Joe, who had a view looking west on South Road, said, “Here’s her wheels now.”
Sarah pulled into Alley’s parking lot, slammed her car door shut, and hustled up the steps, face flushed, eyes bright. Her black T-shirt was emblazoned in fluorescent orange with WAMPANOAG TRIBE OF GAY HEAD (AQUINNAH).
“What’s up?” asked Joe.
Sarah sat on her usual bench next to the CANNED PEAS sign. “Is someone going to buy me a Diet Coke?”
“Toss you for the honor,” said Lincoln, fishing a quarter out of his pocket and flipping it. “Tails. You get it, Joe.”
“Figures,” said Joe, spitting off to the side of the porch.
He was back shortly with three cans of soda. “I suppose you want me to open it for you, Miz Germain?” He handed a can to Lincoln, who nodded thanks.
“That would be gentlemanly.” Sarah held out her can.
Joe popped the lid. Sarah took the can back and sipped.
“Okay. Spill it. What’s got you in such a tizzy?” said Joe.
Sarah took another sip. “You know about Mrs. Wilmington?”
“Everyone on the Island knows about Mrs. Wilmington,” said Lincoln. “People are pulling their own teeth now. Been a run on pliers at Shirley’s Hardware.”
“Well, it wasn’t a heart attack,” said Sarah, settling back on the bench.
“Never thought it was,” said Joe.
“It’s always a heart attack,” said Lincoln. “What else is new?”
Sarah took another sip. Joe spat again and wiped his mouth. Lincoln scratched his back on the doorframe. Sarah smiled.
“Arsenic!” she announced suddenly.
“No lie?” said Joe.
“The truth,” said Sarah, holding up her right hand.
“Who administered it?” asked Lincoln.
Joe said, “One of those four grandkids of hers.”
Sarah shook her head. “My bet is that Greek dentist, Dr. Demetrios.”
“Yeah?” said Joe.
“Dr. Demetrios is jealous of that new dentist from Harvard.” Sarah brushed an imaginary hair off her black shirt.
“How do you know?” asked Joe.
“She cleans my teeth. It’s obvious.”
“So, Demetrios kills Mrs. Wilmington to make McBride look bad? Come on, Sarah.” Joe took off his hat again and adjusted the back band. He put the hat back on. “My bet is on one of the grandkiddies.”
“Mrs. Wilmington had money with a capital M.” Lincoln rubbed his hands together. “What I know about the grandkids, every one of them could use some of that stuff. I’m with Joe.”
“Mrs. Wilmington was practically their mother,” Sarah objected.
“She wasn’t their mother though, was she,” said Joe. “No love lost between her and the kids. From what I hear, they’re already squabbling over their inheritance. They read the will yet?”
“That’s supposed to be this week,” said Sarah.
“What about the girl who lived with her?”
“Woman,” Sarah corrected. “What about her?”
“Works with me sometimes,” said Lincoln. “Landscaping. Name’s Susan.”
Sarah finished her Diet Coke and set the empty can on the bench next to her. “You’d think they’d show some respect to the grandmother who raised them.”
“You ever hear about cowbirds?” said Lincoln.
Joe guffawed. “Got that backward. Cowbirds lay eggs in other birds’ nests and the chicks kill the other birds’ chicks.”
“Just what I meant,” said Lincoln.
A Jeep passed by.
“Who was that?” asked Sarah.
Lincoln squinted at the disappearing vehicle. “Dunno.”
“You know who it looked like,” said Joe, “Miz Trumbull’s ex-grandson. Some blonde with him.”
“The guy has a restraining order against him,” said Lincoln.
“So?” said Joe. “Never stopped me.”
CHAPTER 17
Lockwood negotiated the long drive up to Heather’s grandmother’s house, dropped her off, and watched her climb the porch steps. A fine-looking woman if she’d lose a few pounds. At the top, she turned and waved. The breeze lifted her hair and moved the hem of her tunic.
He waved a hand in return.
He drove back to West Tisbury, where he’d booked a room at the youth hostel near Victoria’s. Elizabeth would never suspect that he, who liked his comforts, would stay where he might have to contend with a group of giggling teenage bicyclists.
* * *
That night, Elizabeth couldn’t sleep. The wind had backed around to the northeast bringing rain. Branches of the lilac tree next to the house scraped against the shingles, sounding as though someone was trying to climb it. Rain lashed the screen in the window. She pulled her comforter up around her neck. Wind-driven, screen-sifted rain misted her face. Her bed was on the far side of the room, which meant she’d better close the window.
This was not a simple task.
The window, dating to when the house was built, had a metal lever on one side that had to be lifted before the window could be raised to remove the screen in order to shut the window.
By the time she’d finished, her T-shirt was soaked from the waist up. She stripped it off and was about to crawl back into bed naked when she thought of Lockwood. Suppose he showed up. The last thing she wanted was to flee from him with nothing on.
Shivering, she opened her bureau drawers to find something she could escape in if that became necessary. Her hands shook. She grabbed a sweatshirt from the third drawer down, then her bikini underpants. She thought a moment and pulled on the jeans she’d shucked the night before and climbed back into bed.
Rain beat against the window. Wind rattled the ancient panes. The lilac scratched the shingles.
She couldn’t sleep.
How could she get rid of Lockwood? The divorce was meant to solve her problems with him. The restraining order was to keep him away from her. For the dozenth time she thought about killing him. He was too clever to be trapped by any method she could conceive of. She wouldn’t do it, of course. Couldn’t. But it gave her grim satisfaction to imagine herself free of him forever.
She twisted from right side to left. She thought about turning on the bedside lamp and reading. But Lockwood could be somewhere out there, watching. She didn’t touch the lamp.
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