Dangling by a Thread

by Lea Wait

  “Whatever you want done, Angie, you let me know. I’m living here in Haven Harbor, too. I want to be a part of what’s happening here.”

  “This legal mess isn’t going to help Jed and Carole either, is it? That island won’t be sold for months, at the earliest.”

  “It doesn’t seem so,” Patrick agreed. “But they must know that. Or at least Jed does. I don’t know how much Carole is involved. With her illness, I don’t think he’s been telling her every detail.”

  Details she should know. She was already involved.

  And she wasn’t happy.

  Chapter 43

  “Remember time will shortly come

  When we a strict account must give,

  To God, the righteous Judge of all

  How we upon this earth do live.”

  —Sampler completed in 1824 by Mary Graves, age twenty-six, and Hannah Carpenter (perhaps her teacher) in Philadelphia. Their sampler is embroidered in silk on linen using cross, satin, and petit point stitches, and has a wide border of vines and flowers.

  Bright sunshine woke me earlier than usual. Trixi was still sleeping as I slipped into the kitchen and brewed my morning coffee.

  I had to see Dave. I wanted to confront him about Jesse’s will. Why hadn’t he told me he was Jesse’s beneficiary?

  On a more practical note, I also wanted to find out what groceries he’d like in his house when he got home tomorrow.

  But before that I needed a break. I left my cell phone on the kitchen counter and headed to the harbor. Had it only been a week ago when I’d first seen The Solitary rowing into the harbor in the fog?

  It seemed like a lifetime. Jesse’s lifetime, for sure.

  Today there was no fog. The tide was high, and the early sun, still glowing pink from the sunrise, was reflected in the water.

  I waved at Arvin Fraser and Rob Trask, who’d been here last week. They were getting ready to go out and check their traps.

  “Good morning!” I called to where Arvin’s boat was moored.

  “Morning, Angie!” Arvin called back.

  “Heard you’re working with my brother on another case,” added Rob.

  “Not exactly working together,” I said, continuing down the ramp. Voices carried over water, and the world didn’t need to know more than they did already. “But he did question me about Jesse Lockhart. Sad situation.”

  Rob nodded. “Mom and Dad kid him about it. They like seeing Emmie. But it’s hard to know seeing their granddaughter means someone in town’s been murdered. I didn’t know Jesse. Recognized him, but that was about all. He didn’t seem interested in getting to know other folks in town. But it’s sad, all the same.”

  “Most folks hardly knew where King’s Island was a week ago. Now everyone’s talking about it, and about the cormorants. Some of us who lobster have even had people asking us to take ’em out to see the place.” Arvin shook his head in amazement.

  “But it’s a murder scene!” I said.

  “Folks are fascinated by the whole idea. A few tourists have asked for tours of where the guy’s home was!”

  “Some have asked to rent the boat for a couple of hours, so they could tour themselves around,” Rob agreed.

  “Curiosity seekers,” said Arvin. “I ignore them. The Little Lady’s my living. I don’t rent her out. I wouldn’t even loan her to anyone I didn’t know well.”

  “Has anyone asked to borrow her lately?” I asked.

  “Jed Fitch. He and his son Linc borrowed it once or twice last week. Linc works for me once in a while. Knows what he’s doing. I didn’t see the harm.”

  My investigative antennas went up.

  “When was that? That Jed borrowed the Little Lady?”

  “When was that, Rob?” Arvin paused a moment. “Wait—I have it written in my log.” He disappeared inside the open cabin briefly. “Here it is. Last Tuesday, and again Thursday. Both times in the afternoon.” He looked at me. “You’re curious because of Jesse Lockhart’s death, right? But I don’t think Jed and Linc borrowing the boat means anything. He does it pretty often. Takes prospective buyers out to see properties from the water, or take pictures of waterfront houses and property. As long as he keeps my tank filled and doesn’t want to use my Lady when I need to, it’s no problem.”

  “Say—you guys know everything that happens here in the harbor. Any theories on what happened to Jesse?”

  “Not one,” said Arvin. “Honestly, no one paid him any mind until he shot Dave. Coming into the wharf with one of our teachers bleeding all over the boat from an arrow wound . . . that started people talking.”

  “I’ll bet it did,” I admitted. “I’m glad someone cleaned up the Sweet Life. I hated to leave it a mess, but I had to get Dave to the hospital.”

  “Those ‘someones’ would be us,” Rob said, looking at Arvin. “We figured the guy who owns the Sweet Life wouldn’t be happy about how it looked. I checked with my brother before we touched it. He took a look and said it would be okay to wash it down. So we did. Got tired of folks coming to the pier to look at it, or take pictures.”

  “Pictures?” I almost squeaked.

  “Of the blood,” said Arvin. “We’ve had more blood on board the Little Lady when we’ve been fishing and got dogfish instead of blues, but folks were fascinated by the Sweet Life.”

  “Thank you for cleaning it,” I said.

  “It wasn’t just us,” Rob added. “Linc helped, too. He was hanging around, and volunteered to help.”

  “Linc. That’s Jed’s son. The one you said worked with you.”

  “Right. He goes to college in Massachusetts. Hasn’t been around much the past few years. Takes extra courses in the summer.”

  “He was in my high school class,” said Arvin. “One of those kids who acted like he was better than the rest of us. Didn’t want to work on the waterfront; wanted to get educated and make millions on Wall Street.”

  “But he’s back this summer.”

  “His mom’s sick. He’s been working when someone needs an extra hand, and spending time with her.”

  “The Fitches only have a small sailboat,” Rob added. “When his mom is well enough, Linc sometimes borrows someone else’s boat after the day’s work is done, and takes her out. He says she loves being out on the water.”

  “Yeah. He borrowed my boat once last week for that,” said Arvin. “He may pretend to be high and mighty, but he knows how to handle the Little Lady. If my mom were sick like that, I’d want people to help out.”

  “Kind of you,” I agreed.

  “We have to get going,” Arvin added. “Good day like this, we can pull almost all the traps. Traps got to be pulled every couple of days, but with the market hot like it is most Augusts, the more bugs we bring in, the better.”

  “Understood. Don’t want to delay you any longer. Have a good day!” I waved as they shoved off and headed toward the mouth of the harbor.

  Jesse was gone, but work continued for those who pulled their living from the sea. Arvin and Rob, like many their ages, drank too much sometimes, but they were steady young men. Arvin had a wife and daughter, and Rob was engaged. As long as global warming didn’t mess up Maine lobstering the way it had winter shrimping, they’d be permanent residents of Haven Harbor.

  I finished my coffee and headed up the hill. The last time I’d been here this time of day I’d stopped at the patisserie and bought croissants for Dave’s and my breakfasts.

  Their pastries had to be a lot better than hospital food. I made a turn and bought two cinnamon rolls, still warm, with frosting seeping into their crevices.

  Chapter 44

  “Needlework as a national art is as dead as the proverbial door-nail; whether or not it ever regains its position as a craft is a matter of conjecture. Personally, I incline to the belief that it is absolutely extinct. The death-knell rang for all time when the sewing machine was invented.”

  —From Chats on Old Lace and Needlework by Emily Leigh Lowes, London, 1908.


  Still in hospital? I texted Dave.

  Breaking news! May be released this p.m., he answered.

  C U soon, I replied. Trixi and I cuddled a bit, and I ate my cinnamon roll. She wanted to lick my fingers, but I beat her to it. Haven Harbor was lucky to have Henri and Nicole’s real French patisserie. If I didn’t curb my enthusiasm for their products I’d have to buy a new, wider wardrobe by the time leaves fell.

  “Gram?” I said, remembering I hadn’t called her last night. “Dave may be leaving the hospital today. I’m going shopping for him. Could you ask the Ladies’ Guild to help out? It would be great if someone could deliver a meal to him every day for a week.”

  “Done,” Gram agreed. “I’ll make him something for tonight, and by tomorrow we’ll have the wheels in motion. We do that for any parishioner right after they’ve left the hospital, especially if they’ve had a baby, or live alone, or have trouble getting around.”

  “Dave hasn’t had a baby, for sure,” I said, smiling at Gram’s explanation of the Ladies’ Guild. “But he’ll have logistical challenges for a while. What about his kitten, do you think?”

  “I’ll talk to him about that this afternoon,” she said. “I suspect he’d like to have Snowy back, but I want to make sure he can take care of a kitten. I can take the little guy over tomorrow if Dave wants him right away.”

  “Put me on the list to bring one dinner,” I said. “I want to do my part.” I hadn’t a clue as to what I’d bring, but I’d find something.

  I could hear the smile behind Gram’s voice. “I’ll let you know which day you’re assigned, Angie. Thanks for volunteering. Wasn’t Dave going to have a meeting with the group working on Save the Cormorants today or tomorrow?”

  “I’m going over to see him. I’ll find out what he wants to do.”

  I didn’t mention the will to Gram. I wanted to talk to Dave first.

  He was wearing one of the T-shirts Gram had brought for him, his legs covered with a blanket.

  “Waiting for the doctor?” I asked as I walked in and handed him the patisserie bag.

  “Yum,” he said. “All I had for breakfast was orange juice and cold cereal.” He tore off a piece of the cinnamon roll and popped it in his mouth.

  “You have a lot of friends,” I commented, pointing at the bulletin board across from his bed covered with “Get Well” cards.

  “Students,” he admitted. “Some names I didn’t even recognize. Maybe this year’s crop, hoping to get a head start on a good grade.”

  “So when can you get out of here?”

  “Can’t leave before I’m officially released. I’ve read both of those mysteries you bought me, and could recite the headlines of the news. I’m ready to get out. Word is, early this afternoon.”

  “Did you get your lesson plans done?”

  “Enough. A lot of my notes are at home, in my study. I can finish at home. Still have ten days before school opens. How was your evening at Aurora? Did you meet Simon?”

  “Yes.” I had so many questions it was hard to know where to start. “He said there won’t be a funeral for Jesse. That Jesse wanted to be cremated and his ashes put in the ocean.”

  Dave was silent. “I’m sorry. But that sounds like something Jesse would have said, although we never talked about it. I would have liked to have said good-bye.”

  I nodded.

  “He was like my brother, Angie. We were very different people, but we’d shared some of the same experiences. Neither of us had family to go back to after we left the service, so we became each other’s family.”

  “Dave, you suggested Jesse get a lawyer, right?”

  “Aaron Irving. He went to Aaron’s office that Wednesday morning after he’d spent the night at my place. If Jed was pushing the sale of the island Jesse should have had all the help he could.”

  “And he changed his will.”

  “I didn’t tell him to do that. Aaron might have.” Dave’s shoulders dropped. “I hoped he’d change his will to take Simon out, and put the Audubon folks in. I figured it would show his intentions, if anyone questioned his ownership of the island. Or his competence.” He waited a few seconds. “That competence thing had happened before, when he first got to the VA. He had brain injuries. He’s been doing fine. But if someone wanted to make trouble for him, they might find those old records.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me Jesse’d left his share of King’s Island to you?” I blurted. “When I heard that last night I didn’t know what to say. Here I was trying to find out what Simon was going to do, and I didn’t even know what you were going to do! How could you put me in that position? It was embarrassing not to know. I thought you were my friend!”

  “I’m sorry, Angie. Really, I am. But I just found out yesterday. Jesse didn’t tell me he’d done that. Ethan stopped in around lunchtime and dropped that bomb on me, along with another whole string of questions. Now I legally benefit from Jesse’s death. Luckily for me, half the medical staff at Haven Harbor Hospital can testify I was unconscious and then in surgery during the period the medical examiner says Jesse was killed. Otherwise, I’d be the top suspect in his murder. I still don’t know what the will is going to mean—what rights I have, and what rights Simon has. I tried to talk to Aaron yesterday, but he said he couldn’t represent both Jesse and me. I have to find another lawyer as soon as I get home.”

  “You were the first one to say King’s Island should be saved for the great cormorants.”

  “And that’s what I believe. I haven’t changed my mind, Angie. But I don’t know what I can do, or when. There’s that six-month rule in Maine; property can’t be legally transferred until six months after someone dies. But Pete said Gerry Bentley and Simon were questioning the original deed to the island. The way it’s written, neither Jesse nor Simon might legally be able to transfer ownership to someone other than each other. So I may not have any say in what happens to King’s Island despite Jesse’s revising his will.”

  “So—the Save the Cormorants group?”

  “I’ve called everyone but you. We’re meeting tomorrow morning at my house. I’m not calling off the campaign. I think we should continue the plan to let people know about Jesse’s birds. He would have wanted that. I hope the island can be saved for them, but even if it can’t, people will know more about the importance of the nesting grounds all along the coast of Maine. Not just for great cormorants. But for puffins and piping plovers and common eiders and great black-backed gulls . . .”

  Dave was looking paler and more tired.

  “You need to rest. We can’t solve the problems of all endangered species in Maine this morning. Do you have someone to drive you home?”

  “Reverend Tom volunteered for that duty. The doctor’s going to call him when I’m officially free and released.”

  “Good. I’m going to go and get your groceries. Can you think of anything you’d especially like?”

  “No Jell-O!” Dave said definitively. “Ice cream. Chocolate. I’m going to be taking pills for pain and have to keep something in my stomach, but I’m not hungry.”

  “You will be soon. What about yogurt?”

  “That’s healthy, right?” He didn’t look enthused.

  “Blueberry yogurt?”

  “Better.” He smiled. “I need the basics. Milk, eggs, butter. I have oatmeal at home. And hamburger. That’s easy to cook.”

  “Got it,” I said, writing down what he’d asked for. “Plus ice cream, I promise. That should get you through a couple of days, until I make another grocery run.” If he needed anything else after the Ladies’ Guild filled his refrigerator.

  “You’re going to sleep on your couch downstairs?”

  “That’s the plan. I’m supposed to keep off steps for at least a week.”

  “Okay. I’ll find clean sheets and get the couch set up for you. And I’ll bring towels and toothpaste and stuff downstairs.”

  “I hate for you to do all that, Angie.”

  “I don’t mind. And you can
’t do it, at least not right away.” I pointed at the cards on the bulletin board. “Got to get you healed and ready to go back to school, right? And we needlepointers need to stick together.”

  “I wish we knew who killed Jesse,” said Dave. “I keep thinking about it. Nothing makes sense. I’m hoping when I get home, and don’t have to take all the pills they keep handing me here, the answer will come into focus.”

  “I hope so, too, Dave,” I said. “But it’s not simple. I’m not taking pain pills. And Jesse’s death is still a mystery to me.”

  Chapter 45

  “While on this glowing canvas stands

  The labour of my youthful hands

  It may remain when I am gone

  For you my friends to look upon.”

  —From sampler stitched in 1837 by Mary Caley in Chester County, Pennsylvania. Mary embroidered in silk and chenille on linen using cross, bullion knot, satin, and stem stitches. Her sampler lists her parents, brothers, and sisters, including her sister Ann, who had died, and whose name is embroidered on a black square. Mary also included a weeping willow tree, symbolic of death, in the landscape below her verse.

  By the time Reverend Tom brought Dave home, at about two o’clock, I’d done all I could think of to make his house easy to live in while he was still in pain.

  I had no doubt about the pain. His face showed it, as he walked in using crutches. The first thing he did was put a bottle of Vicodin on the side table next to the couch—now his bedside table.

  “Thanks, Angie,” he said, looking around.

  “If you think of anything else I can help with, let me know.”

  Reverend Tom brought in the plant Dave had received in the hospital, and the flowers “Bette” had sent. My roses weren’t fit for transport.