by Lea Wait
Sean glanced around, as though someone else were listening. “You said no one would know what we said, right?”
“Right. I’m telling you straight. Did you know Dan Jeffrey?”
“Sure. Friend of Coach Costa. Helped with team equipment last year.”
“I heard he got killed a week ago,” said Josh.
“He did,” said Maggie. “Tony’s dad said Dan Jeffrey was the one who gave Tony the pills that killed him.”
Sean looked sideways at Josh. “Tony’s dad got that wrong. I never heard of anyone getting anything from Mr. Jeffrey. He was just a nice guy who liked baseball. He used to give us tips, sort of like a second coach. He helped me with my fast ball. He wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Tony.”
Josh shook his head. “Mr. Jeffrey used to talk to Tony about his asthma. Once I heard him tell Tony’s dad not to go so hard on him; to let Tony drop off the team and do something he was better at. Mr. Silva got real mad. He told Mr. Jeffrey to mind his own business.”
Sean said quietly. “It wasn’t Mr. Jeffrey who had pills.”
Josh elbowed Sean.
Neither of them said anything more. They both focused on their pizza. They didn’t look at Maggie or each other. No one said anything for several long minutes.
Then Maggie asked. “Who was it, then? Who had the pills?”
“We can tell her, Josh. It don’t make a difference anymore,” said Sean.
“I guess.” Josh didn’t look as sure. “But you won’t tell our parents? ’Cause Sean and me, we didn’t do pills. Honest.”
The two of them looked so young and so scared Maggie was almost certain they were telling the truth. But they knew something. “I won’t tell your parents. But I won’t lie to you. I might have to tell the police.”
“Just don’t tell our parents you heard it from us. It could have been a lot of people who told. Everybody knew,” bargained Sean.
“I promise,” said Maggie, hoping no one would else would break her promise.
Sean took a deep breath and looked around. Then he lowered his voice. “Maybe there were other places in town to get stuff, but kids I know got pills from that deaf lady who came to watch the games. Miss West.”
Chapter 36
Silver Maple. Chromolithograph published by Stecher Lithographic Company, Rochester, New York. c. 1890. Probably part of a sample book for use by nurseries and tree salesmen. Shows stately home, with tree in yard, elegant carriage beneath, and inset of leaf. “A very rapid growing tree, forming an open spreading head, has abundance of clean, healthy foliage and makes a fine shade tree” printed in small letters at bottom that could easily be matted over. Silver maples are common in the northeast United States; their leaves turn yellow in the fall. They do, however, have the disadvantages of shallow root systems and brittle wood, so are vulnerable in storms. 5.5 x 8.5 inches. $50.
Maggie drove the boys back to Sean’s house through increasingly heavy rain. The wind was stronger, too. In the short time they’d been at the restaurant gusts had turned to gales. Maggie’s van rocked as she turned one sharp corner.
Hurricane Tasha might not have reached the Cape yet; forecasts said major winds wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. But she was definitely sending warnings that she was on her way.
The boys pointed at branches that had already fallen and excitedly speculated about how high the surf might get and whether anyone they knew had wetsuits and surfboards they could borrow.
Maggie was relieved when they reached Sean’s house and the boys ran for cover. Let their parents warn them of hurricane dangers. She’d have to cope with young people’s sense of invulnerability soon enough. Listening to them she’d been reminded of how fearless kids could be. And how hungry. In twenty minutes the boys had consumed an entire extra-large pizza, plus chips and large sodas. She was taking this as a personal warning that her food budget might have to change drastically in the near future.
She turned the van carefully, managing to miss a garbage can rolling erratically down the street. Luckily, the Six Gables Inn was only a couple of miles away.
Had Cordelia really been the kids’ source for drugs? Or at least one source, she told herself; there might have been another. Thinking about Cordelia as a drug dealer was totally changing the way she looked at Winslow, and the people who lived here.
Who would’ve suspected that the quiet deaf woman who took long walks along the beach and streets of Winslow, who stopped to watch children play, who smiled at everyone and never spoke was also the source of illegal pharmaceutical medications?
She tried to put it all together.
Those boxes Cordelia received from all over the country. And from other countries, the postmistress had said. She’d specifically mentioned Canada, Maggie was sure. Small quantities of prescription medications could be hidden and shipped, perhaps mixed in with the supplies she received to make her dolls. And those eBay sales she made, and the packages she sent out. Were they dolls, or was she sending drugs, too?
Gussie’d wondered how Cordelia managed to pay the high taxes on her house. Perhaps selling drugs had solved that problem.
A strong gust of wind sent the van shimmying across the road.
Maggie turned her windshield wipers on high and refocused on getting back to Six Gables. Rain was now hitting the van from all directions. The sky had darkened enough so she not only turned her headlights on because it was the law, but because she needed them.
If this was the prequel to the hurricane, what would tonight be like?
Maybe Sheila would come to her senses and cancel the party. It would be crazy to go out in weather like this.
Luckily, not many other people were stupid enough to be on the roads. Leaves that had been on the trees this morning now filled the air like rain. Or were they blowing up from the ground? Wherever they’d come from, they were sticking to the windshield. The wipers couldn’t get them all off.
Maggie slowed down even more.
Should she stop and remove the leaves? Or would stopping mean more leaves would get on the van?
She kept going, but even slower.
She crossed the downtown area. Main Street was empty. None of the stores looked open. Although if one were, she couldn’t tell and couldn’t take the time to look. No cars were parked on the street, which was beginning to flood. Leaves must be plugging storm drains. That happened this time of year in New Jersey. The center of Winslow looked like the set of a science fiction movie after all the humans had been vaporized. Prime for a Martian takeover.
Maggie smirked at her own fantasy. Those Martians had better be wearing heavy-duty L.L. Bean slickers, or they’d be mighty wet when they arrived to take charge. She made her way around the town Green and headed north.
Not far now. She slowed down even more. She didn’t want to miss the entrance. Thank goodness there were no other cars on the road.
Finally. There it was. She turned into the driveway with relief.
A police car was parked in front of the entrance to Six Gables.
Chapter 37
Donovan’s Humble-bee and Great Humble-bee. Delicate hand-colored steel engraving (1843) from Sir William Jardine’s forty-volume Naturalist Library, published by W.H. Lizar of Edinburgh. As with other engravings in the volumes, the subjects are carefully and vibrantly hand-colored; backgrounds are uncolored. The humble, or bumble, bee, is black with broad bands of yellow or orange. Humble bees often nest in the ground. Each nest has a queen, drones, and workers. 3.75 x 6 inches. Light foxing. Price: $50.
What business did the Winslow Police Department have at the B&B?
Maggie’s thoughts were almost drowned out by the rain pounding on the van roof.
Why hadn’t she thought to bring a raincoat to the Cape? The door to Six Gables was only twenty steps away, but she’d be soaked by the time she got inside.
The rain and wind weren’t easing up. She hoped Will’s mood had. She grabbed the bag of potato chips she’d bought for him, opened the van door, an
d ran, splashing through puddles already an inch deep that filled her sneakers with frigid water. Sodden leaves made the driveway treacherous. By the time she reached the ramp to the porch her hair was soaked, and she could practically feel her favorite wool sweater shrinking as it clung to the dripping turtleneck beneath it.
Cold, drenched, and focused on thoughts of Will, hair dryers, and towels, she opened the door to the B&B. All four people standing in the lobby turned to look at her.
“Here you are,” said Mrs. Decker. “Finally. We were wondering when you’d get back. It’s blowing a gale out there.”
“It’s dreadful. I got here as soon as I could.” Maggie stood, dripping, on the mat inside the door. Will was in back of two other women, one of whom she didn’t recognize. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry. I should have called, Will. But I got back as soon as I could.” She shook herself a little and carefully stepped across the worn oriental carpet to hand him the bag of barbecued potato chips covered with beads of rain. “Here; these are for you.” She wanted to add: a peace offering. But she wouldn’t say that in front of the others.
“I’m so pleased to meet you dear,” said an elegantly coiffed gray-haired woman she hadn’t met, putting out her hand. Maggie knew immediately who she must be.
“You must be Jim’s mother, Mrs. Dryden,” she said, taking the woman’s hand in her damp one. “Gussie told me you’d be staying here. I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You must call me Lily,” she said. “Gussie and Jim said you and your friend,” she glanced at Will, “were staying here. Jim took me to see their new house, and then brought me here to rest and dress for the party tonight. Although I’m not sure the party’s going to happen. There were telephone calls going back and forth when he dropped me off. A number of guests who’d planned to come to Winslow tonight have wisely decided not to travel until tomorrow morning.”
So that left the questions no one had answered. Why was Annie Irons here? And why was a police car parked out front?
Maggie turned in her direction. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon, Annie.” Mrs. Irons was wearing a Burberry trench coat. Maggie’d coveted one just like it at the Short Hills Mall in September, but its price tag had been higher than her mortgage payment.
“My husband heard the governor is probably going to ask all non-essential drivers to stay home tonight. The roads are getting more treacherous every hour, and Hurricane Tasha’s not due to hit here full force until early evening,” said Annie.
Yes? So the Winslow Chief of Police sent his wife to deliver a weather bulletin? That seemed unlikely. But no one else was here. She must have come in the police car.
“The car out front is yours, then?”
She nodded. “Ike will kill me when he finds I borrowed one of the station cars, but I enjoyed our talk this morning so much I thought maybe we could get together this afternoon to chat a little more. But your friend Will told me you’d gone out, and now the storm is so much worse. If the party does go on tonight, perhaps I could get Ike to pick you ladies up in the patrol car when he takes me? Police cars are heavy, and wouldn’t skid as easily on the leaves.”
“Why, that would be lovely, Annie; wouldn’t it, Maggie?” said Lily. “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a police escort?”
“Will’s given me your telephone number, so we can be in touch. We should be hearing from the governor’s office very soon now,” said Annie. “In the meantime I’d better get the car back to the station. Maybe I’ll see you later. For sure, I’ll see you all tomorrow at the big event!” She waved, pulled her coat’s hood over her head, and left.
Mrs. Decker shook her head. “Maggie, there’s a hair dryer in your room. Can I get you a cup of tea, or anything else right now? You need to get out of those wet things.”
Maggie shook her head. “Thank you, but no tea. I want to dry off, and maybe take a hot shower.”
“You’d better do that soon, dear. If we lose power, we lose hot water, too, and with that Hurricane Tasha getting closer all the time, you never know,” advised Mrs. Decker. “I’ll be downstairs if any of you need anything. And I’ll have sandwiches, and if the power holds, hot soup in the dining room for supper at six o’clock. No extra charge. A hurricane calls for special measures. I’m guessing none of you will be going out for dinner. I just checked. All the restaurants in town have closed.”
“You’re a wonderful hostess, Mrs. Decker,” said Lily. “I’m going to lie down and maybe turn the Weather Channel on in my room. I was up very late last night flying in, and tomorrow is a big day. I wouldn’t mind at all if this to-do tonight were cancelled, to tell the truth.” She went ahead up the stairs.
Maggie put her hand out for Will’s. “Coming?”
Will hesitated.
“We need to talk. Upstairs?”
Will nodded.
Behind their closed door she added, “Give me five minutes to shower and warm up. Then we’ll talk,” she promised. “And I apologize.”
“May I eat the chips in the meantime?” he asked, holding the bag out, “since you’re setting the agenda for the next hour or so?”
“Of course,” she agreed, stripping off her wet clothes and stretching the wet sweater out as best she could on a towel on the floor. “And I hope you’ll forgive me for being such an idiot earlier. And I do have news! That pizza was worth a lot more than its weight in information. But first I desperately need that hot shower!”
By the time Maggie rejoined him, one towel wrapped around her head and one around her body, Will’d finished about a third of the potato chips.
“Cape Cod does wonderfully well by chips,” he commented, taking another handful. “But we still need to talk.”
“Will, I’m sorry.”
“So am I. But I’m serious about not liking what happened. First, though, I know you’re dying to tell me your news, so go ahead. Talk. What did you find out that was so important?”
“Bottom line? The boys talked. They told me they’d never bought drugs.”
“Of course they hadn’t,” Will agreed. “That’s your news? I could have told you that before you left.”
“But, if they’d wanted to, guess who they said they could have gone to?”
“Haven’t a clue. The Wizard of Oz. Plus, I only know a handful of people in Winslow, and if you say it’s Gussie, I will be genuinely surprised.”
“Very funny. No, not Gussie. But almost as strange. They said it was Cordelia.”
“The deaf woman who was shot yesterday morning?”
“That’s what they said.”
Will was silent for a moment. “You’re right. That puts an entirely different light on her murder. And on Diana’s father’s, too.”
“Diana told me she’d seen guns in Cordelia’s room. Now the reason for the guns makes more sense. But when the police searched the house they must not have found drugs. And if they found the guns, no one mentioned them.”
“If the guns were registered, maybe they didn’t seem important at the time. Or maybe they were somewhere the police didn’t look. When they searched the house the first time they were looking for things related to Dan Jeffrey, weren’t they? Not related to Cordelia.”
“I’d think they’d have paid attention to several guns. Especially since Dan Jeffrey had been shot. And they’d definitely have noticed if they’d found drugs.”
“True. So if the boys were right, and Cordelia was dealing, then either she’d stopped, she had a really good hiding place, or her inventory was temporarily out.”
“That would have been almost too convenient,” Maggie said. “But even if Cordelia was dealing drugs, it doesn’t tell us who killed her. Or who killed Dan Jeffrey.”
“No. But it puts her in a position to have had some unsavory colleagues. She might have owed money to her supplier. Or maybe one of her usual customers wanted drugs, and for some reason she couldn’t get them for him. Anything to do with drugs can get nasty and violen
t quickly. It’s not a gentlemanly sort of crime. And because of that, now that you’ve stumbled onto something critical to these murders, you definitely have to tell the police, and step away. Because when you’re talking drug violence you’re in over your head.” Will reached over and drew her next to him. “And much as sometimes you drive me totally crazy, I do love that head of yours, Maggie Summer. I want it to stay intact, and attached to these beautiful shoulders.” He gently pulled the towel away from her hair, which fell, damp and wavy, down her back. He took one strand and twisted it around his fingers, and then bent down and kissed her neck. “I love the way you stride in, wanting to conquer the world and make everything right. But, truthfully, an hour ago I was ready to strangle you. There are times it’s best to leave law enforcement to the professionals.”
“Yes, Will,” Maggie said, looking into his eyes, which looked very blue.
“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worried about what trouble you’re getting yourself into. If I wanted to marry a policewoman or a detective, I’d ask my friend Nick to introduce me to one of his colleagues. But I want to marry you, Maggie Summer. And I want us to have a wonderful, long life together.” Will reached down and picked up Maggie’s right hand and kissed the R-E-G-A-R-D ring he’d given her.
Maggie’s eyes opened wide and she leaned back slightly. For a moment she didn’t say anything. “Are you…”
“I was going to buy you an official engagement ring, but then I decided it would be more fun for us to buy one together. Is that horribly unromantic?”
Maggie stood up, holding the towel around her. “Will Brewer. Did you just propose to me?”
“I hope so. Would you like me to try again? I haven’t had a lot of practice.”
“No, no. I mean…”
“All you have to do is say ‘yes;’ it’s a one-syllable word. You’re usually good with words.”
“I know.” Maggie moved from the bed.