Trimmed With Murder

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “Oh, Cass,” Janie laughed, her cheeks turning as red as her hair. “Come say hi.”

  Cass and Izzy followed her into the lobby where people were milling about in the less-crowded area, drinking wine and eggnog, and taking selfies in front of the miniature harbor display.

  They were steps from the door when it opened, bringing in a wild rush of wind and freezing rain.

  Izzy stepped back, her eyes watering, blurring her vision. She blinked against the cold and then watched Tommy Porter walk in, pulling the heavy door closed behind him.

  Janie hurried over, unconcerned with the cold and wet that saturated Tommy’s uniform. She hugged him tightly. “Boring night on Harbor Road?” she asked, her face just an inch away from his. “Or is it that you simply can’t stay away from me?”

  Behind her, Cass laughed, about to tease the police officer fiercely. Babysitting Tommy Porter before he grew into one of Sea Harbor’s finest brought with it some rights, she always told him. Besides, their early start had grown a deep friendship between the two, and Tommy always teased her right back.

  But Cass stopped short of embarrassing the policeman when he stepped aside and revealed that he hadn’t walked in alone. Following him through the door was a man equally wet and shivering, his hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy jacket, his cheeks red, and his head bare. Wet hair fell across his forehead.

  He was taller than Tommy, with broad football-player shoulders. He stood a few steps behind the policeman, an uncomfortable look on his face, as if he was unsure of why he was there or what was going to happen next.

  What happened next was totally unexpected.

  A noise from Izzy pulled attention away from the stranger and focused it all on the yarn shop owner. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as if holding unhinged parts of her body together. Her eyes were round, and thick eyebrows were lifted up into a scattering of bangs. She gasped, a ragged, unfamiliar sound.

  “Iz?” Cass said. “You okay?”

  But Izzy seemed incapable of answering the simple question. Instead it was the man standing with Tommy who looked over at Izzy and answered it.

  “Hey, sis,” he said. “Long time no see.”

  Chapter 4

  Saturday loomed sunny and cold, the storm leaving behind glistening frozen lawns, the blades of grass catching the sunlight like tiny icicles. Nell stood at the kitchen window, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Her eyes were focused beyond the frozen tops of the fir trees, on the blinding blue of the ocean in the distance.

  On the floor above, Ben’s footsteps moved from bath to bedroom to closet. It was nearly nine o’clock, a late Saturday morning start for both of them, but the evening before had stretched out far longer than any of them had anticipated.

  It had definitely been a night filled with surprises.

  Her long-lost nephew. At least that was how she’d come to think about Charlie—long lost. And now here he was, in the most unlikely of places. Cape Ann. Her home. Izzy’s home. A place he had been invited to many times. But had never come.

  Once they had arrived back at the Endicotts’ the night before, a weary Charlie briefly explained how he’d gotten a nursing degree a year ago and had worked for an NGO doing medical work in Ghana. When political factions destroyed the hospital, the organization had sent the staff home to their headquarters in Arizona.

  It was there he came across Dr. Lily Virgilio’s card. He remembered her needing volunteers at her health clinic. Christmas didn’t seem like Christmas in the desert, he’d said. And a call to Dr. Virgilio had encouraged his decision.

  Nell wondered briefly how Charlie could afford a volunteer job. Most nongovernment organizations certainly didn’t pay well. But then she remembered that Izzy had used a small inheritance she’d received from a relative of her father’s to buy a house and open the yarn shop. Charlie was probably living off his.

  But personal things like money didn’t factor into Charlie’s explanation the night before.

  Nor did he allude to the fact that he had removed himself from his family for more than a dozen years, that he’d missed holidays and weddings and births. That his own siblings didn’t know where he was most of the time, and it was only the occasional e-mails to his mother that told any of them he was still alive.

  And if he had noticed the resentment that had been so blatantly clear in his only sister’s eyes—he didn’t mention that, either.

  Nell knew bits and pieces of Charlie’s adventures from Caroline, although adventure wasn’t exactly the word her sister had used. Once the most easygoing of the Chambers children, Charlie had deviated considerably from the path that his parents had anticipated he’d follow, and Caroline didn’t talk about it often. He’d dropped out of college—and seemingly out of his family as well.

  A bird fluttered in front of the kitchen window, then settled on the narrow bird feeder on the deck. Nell watched it for a minute, then looked down the sloping yard to the cottage on the edge of the woods.

  Maybe she was wrong about Charlie. Maybe he had considered that he might not get a prodigal son’s welcome . . . And maybe that was why he had kept his arrival secret.

  The rattling of the front door scattered Nell’s thoughts and announced the arrival of Birdie, followed closely by the Perrys: Izzy, Sam, and Abby and their aged golden retriever, Red.

  Sam closed the door behind them and set Abby down to toddle her way through the family room and into the kitchen, where she gleefully wrapped her arms around Nell’s knees.

  Nell lifted her up and cuddled her grandniece close, unzipping her jacket. “This is the way every day should begin.” She felt Abby’s sweet breath against her cheek and breathed in the intoxicating smell of baby shampoo.

  Ben bounded down the back steps and greeted everyone, giving Birdie a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, glad you’re all here.” He looked at Izzy and Sam. “But I’m surprised to see you two. I thought you’d sleep till noon.”

  Sam looked down at Abby, now set free and rummaging through a toy box Nell kept in a corner of the family room. Red sat at her side. “I guess my Abigail forgot to read the memo. She didn’t seem to give a hoot that her old mom and dad were up way past their bedtime last night.”

  Izzy poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the sink. “Big night. What a surprise, huh?” She looked at Nell. Her voice was a monotone.

  A surprise? An understatement. Nell had been headed for the community center restroom when Sam waved her over the night before. Her eyes had gone immediately to her niece, her thoughts on Abby, thinking something might be wrong at home. Izzy read her stricken look and shook her head.

  Only then had Nell looked at the silent giant of a man standing a few feet from Izzy. Even with the sleet turning his hair dark and a puffy jacket hiding his shape—and years intervening since she’d last seen him—Nell had recognized Charlie in an instant.

  And in the next minute, she had wrapped her arms around her nephew, releasing him only when Ben walked over, wondering what was going on.

  A surprise, yes. “He is embarrassed, I think. Unsure of how we all feel . . .”

  “He should be,” Izzy asked. “Where is he?”

  Birdie repeated the question, insisting she had had no more than a fleeting introduction the night before, certainly not enough to assuage her curiosity.

  “He’s in the guest cottage. Probably wondering how he got there,” Nell said. She looked at Sam. “Whatever you plied him with last night did a job on him. He went off to bed as soon as you left our house. But thank you. You were gracious to lead him over, Sam. Your being here made Charlie more comfortable, I’m sure.”

  Sam shrugged. “I spent a lot of time around Charlie when he was a kid. The Chambers boys were my buddies. Charlie spent the better part of his summers tagging after Jack and me.”

  Izzy hadn’t objected the night before when
Sam dropped her at home to relieve the babysitter, then headed back to Ben and Nell’s to check on things.

  Nor had she made any move to invite Charlie to stay at their own home.

  Izzy ignored the conversation and walked to the sink. She cradled her cup between her hands, looking out the window, beyond the deck and flagstone pathway, to the cottage. The Endicott guesthouse held some of her most cherished Sea Harbor memories—a special retreat she called her own.

  And today it held her brother, who’d effectively removed himself from her life. He didn’t deserve it, she thought. Not her special place.

  Ben handed Sam a cup of coffee, then put a cast-iron skillet on the stove and turned it on. “The poor guy was frozen stiff. A little scotch does wonders for that—it was a good antidote.”

  Sam looked over at Izzy. She was still looking out the window, but seemed to be a million miles away. He turned back to Nell and Ben. “It was nice of you to suggest Charlie stay here. It wasn’t just the cold that was freezing poor Charlie out.”

  Nell knew what he was saying. Izzy carried resentment, sure, but she’d come around. “No need for thanks,” Nell said. “That’s what that cottage is for. He’ll have some privacy. And I’m looking forward to getting to know Charlie all over again. He looks good.”

  Izzy turned around. “He’d have looked good at our wedding, too, at our family reunion, at—”

  Sam stopped her. “Sure, those are sore spots. He should have been here for our wedding. And it hurt your parents as much as anyone. They worried about him a lot. But life hasn’t always been easy for Charlie.”

  Izzy glared at him, unable to let go of her feelings. She turned back to the window.

  “He looks well, don’t you think?” Nell repeated to Sam.

  “He’s skinny,” Sam said.

  “Skinny? I wouldn’t have used that word. He was a big baby who grew into a big man,” Nell said. She began cracking eggs into a bowl as Ben rinsed spinach and tomatoes at the sink.

  “Yeah. But he’s skinnier than he used to be. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but the guy was a linebacker in college and had all the bulk that goes along with it. The bulk is definitely gone. I wonder . . .” But Sam’s voice drifted off, as if whatever came into his mind was better left unsaid.

  Izzy turned away from the window and walked to the end of the island, sitting on one of the stools. “From linebacker to nurse. How did that happen? I wonder. Charlie used to get sick at the sight of blood.”

  “Perhaps it’s in the genes,” Nell said. “From linebacker to nurse—from lawyer to yarn shop owner. My niece and nephew don’t close the door on life’s vast possibilities. I like that.”

  Izzy didn’t answer. Instead she looked over at Abby. Her tone immediately softened and she turned back to her aunt. “You’re right. But it’s an odd choice. It surprised my mother. He was attending that small college in Colorado and then that fall, he just left.” She frowned, trying to piece her brother’s life together. “That’s when he started—”

  The French doors on the deck had opened and footsteps interrupted Izzy midsentence.

  Charlie Chambers walked in, his hair damp from a shower, his jeans clean and a fleece jacket covering his flannel shirt. “That’s when I started being a jerk?”

  Izzy looked over, still startled at the sight of her brother.

  “Nah,” Sam said. “You were always a jerk.”

  Charlie laughed. Then, surprised, he stared down at the little girl sitting on the floor. She was looking up at him with enormous blue eyes not unlike his own. He crouched down beside her and spoke in a gentle, quiet voice. “Hi. So you must be Abby. I’m Uncle Charlie.”

  Abby answered with a giggle and then Charlie was laughing with her, his fingers crawling up her lap like a spider and making her giggles grow.

  From her perch on the stool, watching her daughter, Izzy took a quick breath, her eyes fixed on Abby.

  Nell watched Izzy taking in the scene. She saw the lines of her face soften and a bit of hardness fall from her eyes.

  The power of a child.

  Charlie looked up. His voice held a huskiness that hadn’t been there before. “She’s beautiful, Iz.” He shrugged off his emotion and offered a half smile. “She looks like me, right?”

  That brought shouts of laughter as the broad-shouldered Charlie brought his face down beside the sweet, round, curly-haired toddler. Sam joined his brother-in-law on the floor, vying for his daughter’s attention and teasing Charlie about his football face and nearly red hair. “Like you? No way, ugly man,” he said. “My Abby is gorgeous, just like her mother.”

  Ben interrupted the banter a short while later with a call to eat, ushering people with a wave of his hand to the kitchen island, now filled with spinach and goat cheese omelets, bagels and lox, and fresh fruit. And orders to help themselves.

  They filled their plates and sat on oversize chairs and sofas near the family room fireplace, Abby happily strapped into her own tiny chair at the coffee table. Ben passed around Bloody Marys and refilled coffee mugs.

  Charlie had filled his plate to overflowing, then settled down on the couch, close enough to Abby’s chair to entertain her with strange airplane noises as he flew a piece of a bagel to her waiting mouth.

  Sam was on Abby’s other side. In the distance, Izzy sat apart, watching her brother effortlessly ease himself into her daughter’s life.

  On the other side of the table, Birdie had opened her knitting bag and pulled out her needles, attached to the beginnings of a sea blue angora sweater. A small cardigan with cables up the back that drew attention, even from Abby. “Yes,” Birdie said, smiling at the toddler. “It’s for you, my love.”

  When Nell’s cell phone rang, she almost ignored it, not wanting to move away from the comfort of the scene—the sound of Birdie’s needles, the look on Charlie’s face as Abby responded to him. But scene or not, she found it enormously difficult to let a phone go unanswered, in spite of the teasing Izzy and Cass gave her. Phones rang for a reason, she insisted.

  She walked to the kitchen counter and picked it up.

  The number on the screen was out of state. A sales call, probably. Her “hello” led to a long silence as Nell listened to the caller. Ben started to get up, wondering if there was a problem.

  Nell motioned that it was okay, and allowed a slight smile. She nodded as if the caller could see it, then finally said, “Yes, you’ve called the right place. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you himself. Just a second please.” She stretched out her arm, the phone cupped in her palm. “Charlie, this is for you. It’s your phone calling you.”

  He stood up, puzzled. “Impossible. My phone. . .” He dug into his pocket as if to prove her wrong, then glowered as he came up empty.

  “What the . . . ?” But his expression was washed away almost immediately with a glimmer of amusement.

  Nell watched the play of emotion with a sense of déjà vu. Charlie was so like his father—with that sudden hair-trigger temper that rose out of nowhere, but just a thin layer beneath it was a sweetness that scattered anger into nothing. The Charlie who had always been their gentle giant.

  Charlie held the phone to his ear, listening, while the others in the room tried not to, a task that proved relatively easy, since Charlie seemed to be saying little.

  He listened some more, then forked his fingers through his hair, his back turned just enough to hide whatever expression was playing out on his face.

  He leaned against the kitchen island, his wide shoulders slightly stooped, tousled hair falling over his forehead. “Okay,” he finally said, loud enough for the others to hear. “So we’ve established you’re a thief. What else will I find missing?”

  Chapter 5

  Charlie hung up and stayed at the counter for a minute, as if wondering what to do next. Finally he walked back to the group near the fireplace and sat
down in front of his uneaten omelet. He looked up, almost apologetically. “Do any of you know someone named Esther Gibson?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he dug into Ben’s moist omelet and closed his eyes with a look of pure pleasure.

  Nell looked at Ben, then Izzy. Why was he asking about the police dispatcher?

  “Of course we know Esther,” Izzy said. “Everyone in town knows her. Why? She’s the police dispatcher. Are you in trouble?”

  Charlie shook his head, his mouth full of eggs. Finally he talked around them. “I guess she’s bringing my phone over. And apparently there’s a pair of gloves in my car she needs.”

  “Esther needs your gloves?” Ben leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “Hey, sorry, I’m not making a lot of sense.”

  Finally he looked up and tried to explain about the hitchhiker he’d picked up on the way into town. “It was a frigging mess out there,” he said. “And this girl—woman, I guess—appeared on the side of the road. She was thumbing her way into Sea Harbor.

  “I let her off—and apparently my cell phone, too—in town. Seems she left her gloves in my car and wants them back in exchange for the phone.”

  The short explanation brought a bevy of questions—who was the woman? Why was she coming to Sea Harbor? Where had she gone when he dropped her off?

  And Charlie hadn’t touched on Esther Gibson at all—and how she figured into his hitchhiker story.

  Before they could pin him down, the doorbell rang.

  Nell walked to the front hall to let Esther in. She loved her nephew, but suspected that the police dispatcher would be able to explain the cell phone and gloves and hitchhiker in a far more coherent way than Charlie was doing.

  But the woman Nell led back into the family room was definitely not Esther Gibson.

  Even Abby turned her blond curls to look at the stranger walking up behind her.

  “Charlie, your friend is here. Everyone, this is Amber Harper.”