by J A Whiting
“No.”
Angie persisted. “Is there ever anyone here who we could speak with?
“Try the day after tomorrow.” The man mumbled without looking up.
As she walked away, Courtney stomped her feet in anger trying to make as much noise as possible just to annoy the man.
Angie knew what Courtney was trying to accomplish with her loud steps. She nudged her sister and smiled. “You probably don’t need to do that. I think we already annoyed him.”
The girls left the building. Once outside, Courtney ranted. “What a jerk. Who hired him? What a terrible representative of the town. What if tourists go in there to ask questions?”
“Then they won’t get any answers.” Angie led the way down the street. The town hall was the next stop on their list. “We’ll go back another day. Maybe that guy is a town accountant or businessman or something. Maybe he doesn’t know anything historically related.”
“Well, why doesn’t he try being pleasant at least?” Courtney steamed along beside Angie. “Or go work in the basement. In the dark. Alone. Like a cockroach.”
Angie burst out laughing. “Next time we go there, why don’t you suggest that to him?”
“I have a better idea. Bake him something. Turn him into a nice man with one of your muffin spells.”
Angie groaned remembering the spell she’d put on Mr. Finch with her muffins. It was intended to be a truth serum muffin, but instead it made Finch fall in love with her. She shuddered at the memory. “I think that the historical society grouch is beyond my abilities.”
Chapter 7
Courtney opened the heavy wooden door of the town hall. The hall sat across from the small town common which had a white bandstand in the center of the grassy plot and wrought iron benches placed under the shade trees. The town hall was painted white, with black shutters next to the windows. Flower boxes overflowed with geraniums, greens, and red impatiens. The door creaked as Angie pushed it open and when the girls crossed the wood floor, the old boards groaned and squeaked.
A petite, older woman with short silver hair bustled about in an office off of the main lobby. Angie and Courtney recognized her from town and knew she was employed at the town hall, but never knew in what capacity. The small woman wore a dark brown skirt, flat shoes, and a crisp white blouse with a cameo brooch at her neck. When she looked up from her work and saw the sisters approaching, the wrinkles around her pale blue eyes deepened into smile lines.
“Hello. It’s the Roseland sisters, isn’t it?” She smiled. “Two of them anyway.”
The girls greeted her and introduced themselves by telling her their first names. “You’re Mrs. Harris, right?”
The woman nodded. She took a few steps closer to the girls. The top of her head barely came above Angie’s shoulder. “How can I help?”
“You probably know that I inherited Professor Marion Linden’s Victorian?” Angie braced for a reaction and hoped it would be different than the historical society grouch’s comment about how people didn’t know how to care for old properties.
“Yes. How wonderful for you. The professor was a smart lady. I’m sure she made an excellent choice leaving her home to you.”
Angie relaxed. “My sisters and I are interested in the history of the Victorian. We’d like to look up land records to trace the ownership of the property and we wondered if there was information here in the town hall.”
“We have some information online.” Mrs. Harris stood straight clearly proud that the town hall was making an effort to modernize their records. “But we have limited resources and it’s a slow process so most of the older information is in the basement in the file room.”
Courtney asked, “Are we allowed to take a look at those files?”
“Yes, you can. I’d just ask you to sign in and out and remember that nothing can be removed from the premises. Would you like to start looking at the records today?”
Angie had half expected to be turned away and was amazed at how easy and accommodating Mrs. Harris was. “Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Mrs. Harris produced a clipboard with a pencil tied to it with a piece of yarn. She handed it to Angie. “You may both sign in here.” The woman picked up a key chain from her desk.
“Did you know Professor Linden?” Courtney asked as she signed her name.
“I knew her socially, through town organizations and events. A lovely person. So intelligent. The woman was ahead of her time … married, with a son, working full time teaching mathematics. I was impressed with her many accomplishments and how she lived her life.”
When Angie returned the clipboard to Mrs. Harris, the woman noticed the book she had in her hand. “You have a copy of the historical society book on Sweet Cove. I helped put it together.”
“Someone lent it to us. We’re enjoying reading about the town,” Angie said.
Courtney thought to ask about the professor’s father. “Do you know who Professor Linden’s father was? What his name was?”
“John Turner.” Mrs. Harris led the way to the basement steps.
Angie’s breath caught in her throat. Her skin tingled with a sense of danger. She reached to touch Courtney’s arm and placed her hand on her sister. Courtney glanced back at Angie and gave a slight nod obviously pleased that they had learned the name of Professor Linden’s father.
“He was a prominent businessman,” Mrs. Harris said. “He lived and worked in Boston mostly, but he had a big hand in making Coveside what it is today.”
Coveside was the part of Robin’s Point on the harbor side of Sweet Cove. It was a quaint section of shops, homes, and restaurants that drew the tourists in droves. There was a brick walkway that followed along the water and overlooked the many boats that sheltered in the cove.
Mrs. Harris continued, “Turner was a very wealthy man. He was a lawyer, but he was also a land developer and investor. He exerted a good deal of influence … in business, in politics. He owned the Victorian for many years and used it as a getaway, but he didn’t spend much time there as I understand. He left the house to the professor when he passed away.”
Angie tried to shake off her feeling of trepidation. She couldn’t believe their luck that Mrs. Harris was turning out to be such a treasure-trove of information. They followed the silver-haired woman down the skinny staircase into the town hall’s basement. The bank of overhead lights revealed a low-ceilinged room that smelled of old wood. Two walls of the room were lined with file cabinets and there was a worn plastic table with three old chairs standing haphazardly around it.
“It’s not pretty, but it’s all we have.” Mrs. Harris gestured to a section of metal cabinets. “This is the part you’d be interested in. There are old land records that date back to the late 1800s. The dates are labeled on the front of the cabinets.” She peered at the yellowed labels stuck into aluminum holders glued to the front of each file cabinet.
“We’re also interested in the land where our grandmother had her cottage. On Robin’s Point,” Courtney said.
“Do you know when your grandmother took over the cottage?”
Courtney calculated. “Nana was born eighty-five years ago. Nana was twenty when her mother died. That’s when she inherited the cottage.”
Angie’s eyebrows went up, impressed with Courtney’s knowledge of the family.
“Well, you might find some information in this one.” Mrs. Harris pointed to one of the cabinets. “Records weren’t the greatest in the past. You could also look up tax information. That can be a good source of who owned what.” The woman pulled on one of the drawers and opened it. “You grandmother owned the cottage until she passed away?”
Courtney said, “She sold the cottage to the town shortly before she passed. That was fifteen years ago.”
Mrs. Harris opened another drawer on a different cabinet. “Then the best place to start would be between these two opened drawers. The Robin family and their descendants owned the point from the
early 1700’s to around 1920 when portions of the land started to be sold off to other people.”
“Our great-grandmother, her name was Forsythia Whitney, she might have bought the cottage on Robins’ Point around the time that some parcels of land were being sold.”
The woman nodded. “I’ll head back upstairs. Let me know if you need anything.” Mrs. Harris held on to the skinny railing and pulled herself up the rickety stairs to the main floor of the town hall.
Angie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “So now we know that Professor Linden’s father was John Turner. We can do some research on him later. Did you feel anything when Mrs. Harris talked about Turner?”
“No.” Courtney scrutinized Angie’s face. She took a step closer. “You did?”
“Something washed over me. A feeling of worry, or nervousness … or danger.”
“I need to pay more attention.” Courtney’s eyes narrowed. “I was so excited that we learned the professor’s father’s name that I wasn’t paying attention to anything else.”
“It was probably nothing.” Angie faced the file cabinets. “Want to look up the records about Robin’s Point and see if we can figure out who owned the land when Nana had her cottage? Maybe we can find confirmation that the town owned the land and then we can stop worrying that Nana was on to something.”
“And that she met with foul play because of what she found out. I’ll start at this end and you can work on that section.” Courtney removed a folder from the cabinet and carried it to the table. She sat down and started to read.
Angie did the same with a folder she removed from the other cabinet. The girls read through folder after folder for nearly two hours.
“What are you finding?” Angie rubbed her eyes.
“A whole lot of nothing.” Courtney closed the most recent folder that she had been poring over. “These records are a mess. I found the entry for when Nana took over the cottage from her mother, Forsythia, but I can’t find anything about who sold the cottage to our great-grandmother, Forsythia. And I can’t find anything about who actually owned the land.”
“Me either.” Angie placed her chin in her hand and leaned on the table wondering what to do next.
The girls looked over to the stairs when they heard soft footsteps coming down.
“How are things going?” Mrs. Harris appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
The girls showed the woman what they’d found and reported that they couldn’t find any information on who sold the cottage to their great-grandmother or who owned the land on the point. Mrs. Harris glanced over what Courtney had discovered.
“Hmmm.” She walked to one of the file cabinets and squinted at the date card on the front of the drawer. “It should be in this one.” She pulled it open and rustled through the folders. Mrs. Harris raised her head and blinked. She returned to where the girls were sitting and lifted the folders that were spread over the top of the table. Not finding what she wanted, she turned her head to the cabinets. “It’s missing.”
Courtney cocked her head. “Would it be somewhere else in the building?”
Mrs. Harris’s forehead was wrinkled and her lips were held in a tight line. “No. It should be here.” The woman made eye contact with the sisters. “This is very odd.”
Angie thought it was more than odd. It was suspicious. Just like what Flora Walters said about Nana’s death.
Chapter 8
Since Courtney and Angie hadn’t eaten lunch, they texted their sisters to invite them to meet at the small park a few blocks from the Victorian. They thought it might be best to talk outside since Tom was working on the renovations and he still didn’t know anything about Angie and Courtney’s developing powers. The girls wanted to keep that tidbit of information to themselves for a while.
Angie ordered sandwiches for everyone at the local deli while Courtney picked up drinks and cookies at the market. Jenna and Ellie met them at the park and arrived carrying a blanket and a container of salad with mixed greens and strawberries.
When they spread out the blanket on the lawn under the shade trees and settled down, Angie passed around the sandwiches. The girls sat cross-legged on the blanket and handed out the salad, drinks, and napkins. In between bites of food, Angie and Courtney reported what they’d learned from their trips to the historical society and the town hall.
“The state keeps track of deeds and land records. Maybe we could use the state’s records to try to find information on who owned the Robin’s Point parcels.” Jenna pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder so it would stay away from her face while she ate.
“I wonder if Attorney Ford could help sort through the ownership records for us. Try to figure out if Nana was right about the town not owning her land ... and find out who did own it.” Ellie sighed and leaned back on the blanket. “I’ve been so busy with the B and B, it feels really good to sit outside and relax for a little while. Not having the full use of the house kitchen is hard. At least the renovations will be done fairly quickly.”
Ellie was working out of one of the carriage house kitchens now to prepare the food for the B and B and then she had to carry the finished products back to the Victorian to be served. It was a big help to still be able to use the two refrigerators in the main kitchen while Tom worked. To cut down on the disruption, he planned to finish the kitchen enlargement first and then work on the room that would house the customer area.
Angie drank from her bottle of orange juice. “Everything has been pretty chaotic these last couple of months. Let’s talk to Jack Ford and see what he thinks about researching the land records for us.”
Courtney glanced around to be sure no one was close by. “Angie felt something when the town clerk mentioned Professor Linden’s father’s name.”
“What did you feel?” Jenna asked. “Is he friend or foe?”
Angie stopped chewing and thought. She swallowed her bite of sandwich. “When Mrs. Harris said his name, a flash zapped through me. It was fleeting, but it was sharp. I felt … menace.”
Ellie’s eyes got wide. “That worries me.” Her voice was soft. “What could it mean? Do you think Nana knew John Turner?”
Courtney finished her sandwich and rolled up the white paper that had wrapped her lunch. “If that picture we found in the box from the den wall is really Nana with Professor Linden, then my guess is that Nana must have known the professor’s father.”
“This is like a spider-web of tangled questions and connections.” Jenna drained her bottle of iced tea. “If we didn’t have the concern that someone hurt Nana, then I’d say let’s just forget the whole mess.”
“Do you think by opening this up, we’re putting ourselves in danger?” Ellie balled up her paper napkin and squeezed it unconsciously.
“We’ll just have to be careful,” Jenna reassured her.
“What’s our next step?” Angie stretched her legs out in front of her. “How can we find things out?” She ticked off her questions. “We want to know how Nana and Professor Linden knew each other. We want to know who owned the land on Robin’s Point. Did Nana own the land that her cottage sat on or did the town really own it? Why did I feel danger at the mention of John Turner?” She looked at each of her sisters. “And did someone hurt Nana?” The words caught in her throat.
The group was silent for several moments, and then Ellie spoke up. Her eyes flashed with anger and her voice had an edge to it. “If someone hurt Nana….” Her sentence trailed off.
“Are there people still around who knew Nana?” Jenna asked. “We could talk to them and see if they know anything.”
Angie said, “I think that’s the next step. We need to find people who knew Nana. There must still be people in Sweet Cove who were friends with her.” She looked at Courtney. “You know a lot more than we do about the family. Do you remember the names of any of her friends?”
Courtney’s face was blank. “I was only six when Nana died. She talked to me about our powers, but I don’t know who her friends we
re.”
“Most of her friends would be in their eighties now.” Ellie was still gripping the balled up napkin. “Is there anyone left who could help us?”
Jenna said, “She interacted with lots of people, not just ones her own age. She had the little shop in the cove for years. We could talk to some of the shop owners down there. If they don’t know anything then maybe they can point us to someone else.” For years, the girls’ grandmother had leased a tiny space in the cove next to another shop where she sold fudge, ice cream, cookies, and pizzelles dusted with powdered sugar.
“Good idea.” Angie added, “Chief Martin knew Nana. Maybe he can tell us some names of people she was friendly with.”
Ellie checked her watch. “I need to get back to the B and B.” She stood up and stretched.
“I’ll walk home with you,” Jenna said. “The woman from one of the gift stores in the cove is coming to look at my new designs. She’s planning to place an order for some jewelry pieces.” Jenna lifted the blanket and shook it out to loosen bits of grass that clung to the cloth.
Angie and Courtney packed up the lunch wrappings and the empty drink containers and carried all of it to the trash and recycle bins near the entrance to the park.
“Are you coming home now?” Jenna asked her sisters.
Angie and Courtney shared a look, each one with the same idea.
“I’d like to go down to the cove and talk to some of the shop owners.” Angie looked to Courtney for confirmation.
Courtney nodded her agreement. She thought it best to get right on their investigation. “We’ll figure this out. I still think Chief Martin should make us all part time investigators.”
Ellie groaned. “How on earth would we fit that into our busy lives?”
“Well, at least then we’d get paid for our services.” Courtney grinned. “We’ve helped on two murder cases for free so far.”
“There better not be any more murder cases in this town ever again.” Ellie folded the blanket and tucked it under her arm.