Trimmed With Murder

by Sally Goldenbaum

  Charlie looked at his aunt with affection, but hesitated, shifting from one stockinged foot to the other. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroys and looked directly at Nell, his eyes locking in to hers. “I’ll be okay, you know,” he said. “It was temporary, breaking down like that.”

  “I’m not offering to babysit, Charlie. I know you’ll be all right. But I want to spend time with you, that’s all.”

  Charlie knew it was more than that, but he nodded and agreed. “I could use some good books,” he said.

  • • •

  They left an hour later in Charlie’s car, dropping letters at the post office, then finding a parking place in the alley between Izzy’s Knitting Studio and the Sea Harbor Bookstore. Nell moved to unsnap her seat belt and glanced into the backseat. It was littered with stained, dog-eared papers, wrappings from burgers, a candy bar, an empty Dunkin’ Donuts cup. On the floor were a few books.

  Charlie saw Nell’s look as he turned off the ignition. “I know, I need to clean out this thing.” He looked over the seat. “Amber wasn’t the neatest person around. I think my backseat became her office or her trash can, not sure which.” He took a breath and released it slowly. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t cleaned it up.”

  Nell nodded, remembering Birdie’s affection for her first husband Sonny’s belongings. A leather chair that still held the distinct cherry fragrance of his favorite tobacco. An old scarf, the first Birdie had ever knit for him, frayed and shrunk. And valued.

  They both got out of the car and Nell looked once more through the back window. “What are all those papers?”

  “Nothing, really. Things she printed off at the Cummings office, then tossed aside. Financial stuff. Salary records. She was a little obsessed.”

  “Salary records?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Go figure. She thought their pay scale was screwy. Maybe she was looking to see if the owners got salaries, who knows? Amber actually liked to read financial records. She loved numbers. She told me the other day that she liked math because it gave her the sense that there was order in the universe, an underlying structure. And that made her feel safe.”

  The irony of Amber’s comment hung frozen in the air.

  Nell looked once more at the mess of papers in the backseat. “I suppose reading those things away from the Cummings office, when no one was looking over her back, was easier.”

  “Maybe. Garrett was there most of the time, she said. He told her he was going to start charging her for printing, but she reminded him that she owned part of the printers.” He laughed.

  Nell had to laugh, too. “It doesn’t sound like she was trying to win friends and influence people.”

  “Nope. Not over there. But she had a soft side, Aunt Nell.”

  “I know that, Charlie. I saw the warm side of Amber the first day she came over to our house. And after that, too, even when she tried to hide it. I think it was because of you. You mellowed her, Charlie. You made her feel comfortable.”

  Charlie walked toward the bookstore door, looking at Nell sideways. “Even though she tried to steal my phone and chewed me out when I was late?” His smile was crooked, but Nell was happy to see it in any form.

  “Yes, even though. And I wasn’t the only one. Jake Risso has known Amber since she was little—and he saw it, too,” she said. “The softness was there.”

  She walked through the doorway and waved at Archie Brandley. He was standing behind the computer, a pencil in his mouth and his glasses falling to the end of his nose.

  “Archie, meet my nephew Charlie,” Nell called out, then took Charlie by the arm and led him over.

  Archie greeted him nicely, but with a slight reserve that Nell was sure Charlie didn’t notice. But she did. It wasn’t like Archie.

  Archie had heard the rumors just like everyone else. And as much as he loved Izzy, her brother was an unknown in town. And a woman in his town had been murdered.

  “Charlie’s helping Lily Virgilio at the free health clinic.”

  “That so?” said Archie. “That’s a fine place, the clinic.”

  “Yeah, it is. They’re keeping a lot of kids healthy. It’s a privilege to be able to help out some,” Charlie said.

  Charlie looked around the store, taking in the staircase to the second floor, the groupings of comfortable chairs, and the coffeepot perking near the window. And everywhere, from floor to ceiling, books. “This is a great bookstore you have here, Archie. Now I know what my friend Amber meant. She loved this place, one of the few things that hadn’t changed since she was a kid, she said. She told me she nearly bought you out a couple days ago.”

  Archie warmed at that and held out a hand, shaking Charlie’s. “Yeah, it’s a damn shame what happened to Amber. She was your friend. I’m sorry for your loss, Charlie.”

  Nell watched the exchange, relieved that even after a few words, one could see through any rumors and fear and recognize who Charlie really was. A good man. Or at least that was what she hoped she was seeing in the thawing out in the bookseller’s eyes.

  “I didn’t know you knew Amber, Archie,” Nell said.

  “Sure I did. When she was a little kid she’d come in here and hide in the kids’ section reading every Nancy Drew and The Secret Garden and anything else she could get her hands on. Not that her grandmother couldn’t have bought the whole darn store for her if she’d wanted to.” He shook his head, his judgment out there in the air. Then he brushed it off and grinned at a memory. “One night I nearly locked the kid in. She was curled up and fell sound asleep. My wife, Harriet, found her when she was turning out the lights. Damnedest thing. I teased her about it the other day when she came in. Asked her if she still read Nancy Drew. She laughed. Then she hoisted some books onto the counter that were definitely not Nancy Drews. They were research types and I told her she should be getting some of those at the library, but she laughed and told me I shouldn’t be saying that—it was no way to run a business, sending customers away.”

  “What kind of books was she buying?” Nell asked.

  Archie scratched his head. “An auditing book, business reports, that kind of boring stuff. One other I can’t rightly remember on some other topic, medical or something. She was trying to figure out her inheritance, would be my guess.”

  Charlie nodded. “Mighty heavy tomes,” he said. “They’re weighing down my trunk right now, probably be as good as sandbags if it gets icy.”

  Archie laughed and looked over as a young man headed to the desk. He held up a hand in greeting.

  “Hey, Zack, my boy, I suppose you want a stack of superhero comic books?”

  Nell and Charlie turned to see Zack Levin pulling out his earplugs to hear what Archie was saying.

  “What’s that, Arch?”

  Archie repeated it and Zack grimaced in exaggerated fashion. “Archie, I grew up, didn’t you notice? Jeez.” He laughed along with the store owner and set a couple of Harlan Coben mysteries on the desk, then noticed Nell and Charlie. “Hey, guys,” he said. He took a step toward Charlie and awkwardly clapped him on the back. “Hey, man. This really sucks. So sorry about Amber. She was way cool.”

  Charlie nodded, then moved the conversation to a more neutral place. “So, how’re you doing, Zack? Things okay at the office, as they say?”

  “Same old same old. Only not really. When Amber was there she gave me things to do. I felt useful. She picked up on the computer stuff in a second. In fact—” He looked around as if there might be a spy in the bookstore listening.

  He lowered his voice and continued. “She could tell right away that O’Neal had cleverly blocked her out of some files. I couldn’t even tell, but Amber picked it up.”

  “Blocked her out?” Nell asked.

  “Yeah. It was his domain. He didn’t like people poking around. Well, you saw some of that, right, Charlie?”

  Charl
ie said yes.

  “How did she solve that?” Nell asked.

  Zack looked sheepish. “Well, I figured she was an owner, right? And I had all the passwords, since I was fixing computers, installing programs and things like that for them. So I told Amber I’d get the files for her. I figured Garrett was just trying to make it hard for her because they didn’t like her around. He thought she’d get discouraged and leave. Didn’t seem right. Jeez, it was her company. O’Neal was just a worker bee like me. Well, not exactly like me. He made big bucks.”

  Nell looked at Charlie. He didn’t seem surprised at Zack’s machinations. “Were you working on anything else with Amber?” she asked.

  “I was helping her explore Internet banking for the company. Something fun.”

  “O’Neal didn’t like it,” Charlie said. “Amber said he was a Luddite.”

  Zack shrugged. “Yeah, it sent him off the deep end. They should join the twenty-first century, Amber told him.”

  Nell smiled indulgently at the conversation and kept it to herself that she refused to bank online. Cell phones were wonderful, but sending your checks off to some cloud somewhere? She would need more convincing.

  Zack had warmed to his subject and went on, praising Amber’s ability not to back down to the boss man. “She scolded him like she was the one in charge, not him. She said he needed to brush up on some things. But when he left the room, she told me it had nothing to do with being in the wrong century. It was something else completely.”

  “What was that?” Nell said.

  Zack pulled out some bills and put them on the counter for Archie. “Oh, she didn’t tell me. It was a surprise, she said. But from the look on her face, it wasn’t going to be a happy surprise—at least not for O’Neal.”

  Chapter 21

  Izzy ran out at the first honk, and they drove down Harbor Road to the Ocean’s Edge restaurant—just a long enough drive for Izzy to chide Charlie about the smelly coffee cups and paper trash littering the backseat. She stacked the papers up neatly, shoved them into a portfolio, and set them on the floor.

  “Sisters,” Charlie whispered to Nell. The message that he liked having one was clear.

  As he pulled into a parking space, Nell suggested she’d like a chance to look at the portfolio, grease and all. Charlie agreed and she reached behind the driver’s seat, collecting the package and setting it on the floor next to her bag where she wouldn’t forget it. Then she remembered the books, and said she’d be happy to take those off his hands, too.

  She’d be happy to replace them with sandbags.

  • • •

  The Ocean’s Edge was humming, the sounds of silver and dishes and glasses competing with the happy chatter of diners being well fed. Izzy, Nell, and Charlie walked in, shutting out the cold and welcoming the warmth from the large stone fireplace.

  “It looks full,” Izzy said, peering into the crowded dining room. The restaurant was a Sea Harbor landmark on prized real estate, the view over the ocean and harbor pier extraordinary, but it was the amazing chefs that brought people all over the north shore to the seafood restaurant.

  Charlie read the blackboard sign in the foyer highlighting the luncheon specials, his stomach growling along with the words. “I don’t even know what some of these words mean.” He leaned closer and read out loud: “Lobster-roe noodles, bucatini truffle crusted tuna?”

  Nell laughed. It was true the menu had become slightly more exotic since Don Wooten became the sole owner. But it had old favorites, too—lobster rolls, chowders, oysters on the half shell—even a steak sandwich. “You’ll love everything. Great chowders and bisques, sandwiches. The fried oyster sliders are out of this world.”

  “That’s if we can get a table,” Izzy said, her eyes canvassing the crowded room. She was already feeling pangs of hunger that would settle for nothing less than the Ocean’s Edge.

  “For you? No question about it, Izzy,” said a familiar voice behind them.

  Izzy spun around with a start and grinned into the face of the restaurant owner.

  Nell smiled. “Don, you never fail us, do you?”

  “I save my favorite table for favorite guests,” he said. He welcomed Charlie with a handshake and gave Izzy and Nell hugs, then motioned for them to follow him as he wove his way through the tables, leaning to the left and right to greet friends and neighbors and first-time diners, smiling and never losing his stride. He motioned to a tall, willowy waitress. “Arlene, you take good care of these special folks,” he said.

  The table was perfect, as promised, right next to the bank of windows and doors that would be open in the summer to the restaurant’s wide porch. Today they offered an endless view of the water, as if the ocean were theirs alone. Nell never tired of it.

  A basket of fried Ipswich clams arrived unbidden and Nell tried to find Don’s eye to thank him. The restaurant owner was intuitive. As the city attorney’s husband, he was keenly aware of everything going on behind the scenes this week, but he wisely concentrated on food today, not murder.

  And she could see the relief on her nephew’s face.

  Izzy ordered her usual, the lobster salad, and Nell decided on the same. But they regretted it slightly when a long plate of fried-oyster sliders smeared with chili-lime aioli and topped with pickled onion and sprigs of arugula was set down in front of Charlie.

  Charlie swooned.

  Izzy looked into her brother’s face. For a moment she said nothing, just enjoying the pleasure she saw there. And then she said softly, “See what you’ve been missing?”

  The words were a surprise, even to Izzy herself. The emotion they carried was still thick and poignant. And it had little to do with food.

  Charlie sat still, staring at the oysters, as if somehow they’d find a voice to help him out.

  “Izzy,” he finally said, finding her eyes. “Izzy, I know I missed a lot. But I couldn’t come here, or to Kansas. Anywhere. I was a poor excuse for being anything, especially a brother or son. I didn’t have much control over me, is how I saw it. And when that has an impact on other people’s lives . . . well, then the best thing might be to bow out for a while.” He stopped, fiddled with a fork, moved the tines along the tablecloth. “I needed to find the me that used to be, the one who teased you and pulled your hair and used my whole allowance to buy you the best Hello Kitty birthday present I could find. And then—then I need a reentry plan,” he said finally.

  The waitress named Arlene was back and the moment faded, then passed. “Okay, here’s what I have,” Arlene said. She put four tall elegant beer glasses on the table, one in front of each of them, then picked up a pitcher of beer from the tray. “This beer is from that nice man in the corner. It’s a gueuze,” she added, clearly proud of her pronunciation. She explained while she filled the three glasses. “The man insisted they’d be perfect with seafood, but especially with the oysters, and he definitely knows his beer, I can vouch for that—he drinks a lot of it.” She grinned and walked away.

  Nell looked over to the corner and into the wide beefy wave of Stu Cummings. She nodded, lifted her glass in the air, and smiled back.

  He wasn’t alone. His wife, Helen, was there, and also Barbara and Garrett. A family gathering.

  Charlie glanced over, too. He looked hard at the group. Nell couldn’t read his expression, his face partially hidden behind his beer glass. But his eyes spoke volumes. Charlie Chambers clearly didn’t like their beer benefactor—or anyone sitting with him.

  • • •

  Later, after finally pushing away plates that once held slices of airy lemon meringue pie and collecting the credit card receipt, Nell excused herself. She’d meet them at the front of the restaurant, she said.

  She hadn’t seen Stu since Amber’s death, although Ben mentioned seeing him at the courthouse as he dropped some papers at Rachel Wooten’s office the day before. Stu had been headed in
to the attorney’s suite and had seemed rushed, so the conversation consisted of polite expressions of sadness. It was her turn.

  Nell headed over to the table where the Cummingses had been sitting. Stu and Helen were still there, Stu wearing an unusually sober expression. Helen, too, sat still and quiet beside him, nursing a martini, a worried look on her face. Garrett and Barbara were gone, their places cleared.

  Of course they looked sad, Nell thought. It was a death in their family, a horrible tragic death. Amber was their niece, in spite of the way they might have addressed her in recent days. She had been quick to go to visit Esther, but the Cummingses had been affected, too, and that fact had nearly escaped her.

  Helen spotted Nell first. She half rose, a smile fastened to her long, lean face.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Nell said. “Please, Helen, sit down.”

  Stu turned his head around to greet her, his hand outstretched. “Dear, Nell, you sit, too. Good of you to come over.” He grabbed the back of an empty chair and started to pull it out.

  Nell shook her head. “I just wanted to thank you for the beer, but mostly to tell you how very sorry I am—all of us are—about your niece.”

  For a minute Stu looked confused, as if not sure to whom Nell was referring, and then he quickly recovered. He nodded vigorously, a slight flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck. He ran a finger along the inside of his starched shirt, pulling it away from his neck. “Yes. It’s a tough week. Awful. Terrible time. Horrible for that girl. We didn’t know her that well, but she sure didn’t deserve to die like she did.”

  “No, she didn’t. She clearly had a difficult life—as did her mother.”

  Nell waited a minute to see if there was any acknowledgment of Amber’s mother. A simple nod that yes, a beautiful young woman had had a tragic life.

  Stu picked up his napkin and set it down again.