Trimmed With Murder

by Sally Goldenbaum

  No one even noticed when Mae came in, nor when the store opened for business. Nor when the shop began to buzz with greetings and conversation, the clink of change, the heavy door opening and closing. Not even the laughter of children playing in Izzy’s magic room filled with toys and books.

  When they finally came up for air, they noticed a tray of deli sandwiches at the end of the table and a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Saint Mae,” Izzy murmured.

  It wasn’t yet noon, but they’d started early and accomplished much.

  And they were starving.

  Birdie stood and stretched, then settled back at the table, a concerned look on her face. “Do you think this is what Amber was looking for?”

  “No. I think it’s what she found,” Cass said. She passed the sandwiches around and began unwrapping a turkey on rye.

  Nell rubbed her eyes. Numbers swam in front of them and asked the bigger question, the one that hovered there in the air, wobbling. Not sure if it had an answer.

  “Do we think this is why Amber was killed?” Birdie pressed.

  They had facts and figures.

  But could one easily jump from figures on a sheet of paper—even from embezzlement—to murder?

  People had killed for less.

  But something didn’t feel right. The yarn was still tangled, loose.

  “There’s a big piece missing in all this,” Izzy said. She finished her sandwich and began to scoop up Cass’s papers and put them back in folders. “How is any of this connected to Ocean View? Or is it? Charlie said that except for visiting her mother’s grave, Amber was totally focused on the financial records that first day or two. But then her attention shifted to the nursing home.”

  “And she didn’t finish what she’d started here,” Cass said, pointing to the folders.

  Nell had been thinking the same thing. And then she thought of the afghan and the panels. Each one different until you saw them together.

  Birdie spoke up. “Amber went back several years in comparing figures and she saw the checks written out to Ocean View in the ledgers. Lydia also sent donations, it seemed. She was generous. In fact, Amber had highlighted a check to Ocean View whenever it came up. They were all reminders of Ocean View and that the Cummings money had paid for her mother’s care—all legitimate. All generous.”

  “And possibly that’s the only connection,” Nell said. “It reminded Amber of her mother. And maybe she was through with examining the Cummingses’ affairs and needed to move on to what was really important to her—visiting her mother’s grave and where she’d spent her last days.”

  But they all knew it was more than that. Nothing in Amber’s behavior had been a gentle quest to say good-bye to her mother. She had promised her mother something, a promise she wasn’t taking lightly.

  Birdie remembered her final conversation with Amber. “She was on her way to collecting enough financial information to act on it if she wanted to. To do something to the company—which was now partly her company. She could have chosen to be vindictive—or not,” she said. “That could have been what she wanted to talk to me about. She mentioned something about making decisions, doing the right thing. Exploring different ways of handling something. She had options—”

  Until she didn’t.

  “But it doesn’t sit right, does it?” Izzy asked. “The Amber you described that last night seemed more anguished. Would fake billings have done that to her?”

  “And Charlie has insisted all along that money wasn’t something Amber paid much attention to.”

  They all agreed; it didn’t sit right. Something was off-kilter. A row that needed to be pulled out and restitched.

  They looked down at the folders on the table, filled with facts and figures about the Cummings Northshore Nursery, figures that hadn’t been intended for anyone to see.

  They didn’t know how it fit into the big picture. But they knew they couldn’t discount it. At least not yet.

  “Remember what Amber told Charlie about math?” Izzy asked. “She liked it because things added up. It gave her the sense that there was order in the universe. Math made her feel safe.”

  The irony of her words settled in with an echoing thud.

  There was nothing in any of this that made anyone feel safe.

  Chapter 35

  “There’s a class in here at two,” Izzy said, collecting their sandwich wraps and coffee mugs. “We need to leave shortly or we’ll be here for the rest of the afternoon teaching intarsia.”

  “I don’t know Intarsia,” Cass joked. “And I have no intention of spending my day off teaching her.”

  The day was wide-open for all of them. They had tacitly canceled meetings and appointments, and Mae’s nieces were there the rest of the day to help in the shop. There were no excuses to get off the moving sidewalk Cass mentioned, not until they encountered the “beast” at its end.

  The sound of a text message came from Izzy’s phone. She looked down, then smiled.

  It was from Charlie, Nell knew. She could tell by the look on Izzy’s face whenever she was reminded that she had a younger brother back in her life.

  Izzy looked up. “I think some wise spiritual guide is in our lives today, helping us reclaim Sea Harbor. That was from Charlie. He’s at work but suddenly remembered something he’d forgotten to tell us. He has a box of Ellie’s things that Amber left with him. She gave him orders to keep it safe.”

  Nell brightened up. “That’s wonderful. Esther thought it might have gotten thrown out.”

  “Charlie says he’ll be back at your house soon. Do we want to meet him and take a look?”

  “Did he say what’s in it?” Cass asked.

  “Esther wasn’t sure.” Nell explained where the box had come from. “The nurse at Ocean View said it’s mostly personal items, photos, jewelry. Esther didn’t think it was important.”

  Izzy tapped her phone absently, thinking. Then she said, “If Amber thought it needed to be kept safe, there must have been a reason. It’s important.”

  There was an immediate flurry of activity as they cleaned the table and gathered purses and keys.

  Izzy went up to have a word with Mae while Cass headed for the coatrack, glancing over at Nell. “One thing. Do you have any of that apple crisp left in your fridge?” She pulled out her keys. “Brain food.” She smiled.

  • • •

  When they walked in a short while later, Charlie was standing at Nell’s stove, frying an egg. A good-sized cardboard box sat on the island, its flaps closed. ELLIE HARPER was printed across the side in bold black magic marker. And below, Esther Gibson’s name and address.

  “Late lunch,” he said, pointing to the pan. “We were busy. I didn’t have time to eat.”

  Nell smiled.

  Izzy looked at the box, then over at her brother. “You’re okay with us going through this, Charlie?”

  He nodded, sliding the egg onto a toasted bun. “Amber brought it into the cottage one night and we went through it together. She wasn’t into ‘things’ and I thought she’d tell me to throw it all out. But she went through it carefully, piece by piece. It seemed like it took forever. I kept saying ‘what?’ when she would hold something up, examining it like it was gold. But she didn’t say much. It was as if she was seeing her mother in every single piece.” He carried his plate to the counter.

  “It somehow seems disrespectful to be looking at her mother’s things. Ellie’s things. Someone we’d never met, a stranger, really,” Birdie said.

  “She doesn’t seem like a stranger, though,” Nell said. “I’ve come to like her. And her daughter, too—” She smiled at Charlie. “I think whatever Amber did that last week she was doing for her mother. To make things right, somehow.” She pulled open the crisscrossed flaps on the box, and the others all gathered closer.

  The top layer held pieces
of clothing—a robe and nightgowns, clearly laundered, folded neatly, and packaged in sealed plastic bags. A sweater. Nell took them out one by one.

  “I wonder who bought her clothes?” Cass asked.

  Lydia, they guessed, or Ocean View itself with an allowance from Lydia?

  “My money is on Esther Gibson,” Nell said, and they all agreed that was the most likely scenario. Kind, generous Esther Gibson.

  When they came across a hat, soft as feathers and knit with yellow cashmere yarn, their guess was confirmed. Esther had worked the hat without seams for comfort, and used the softest cashmere Izzy sold. It was loose and lovely. A perfect head covering to ward off drafts—and to make one look pretty.

  Nell felt a catch in her throat and set the hat aside.

  The photo frames also had Esther’s touch—brightly painted ones framing a small girl who got bigger with each new frame. Amber as a baby. As a toddler. As a preteen. Charlie looked at the pictures for a long time, then set them back beside the box.

  Close to the bottom of the box was a pillow wrapped in tissue paper. It was just slightly smaller than a bed pillow but soft, with tiny folds—the perfect size for cushioning one’s head. Birdie lifted it out and held it up to the light.

  “Esther again,” she said, and touched the embroidered flowers that circled the cotton covering.

  “It’s lovely,” Nell said. She looked more closely at the white cotton fabric. “That’s a shame. It’s torn.” She pointed to the side where the fibers were pulled loose, exposing the lining beneath.

  “Amber noticed that, too. She looked at that pillow for a long time,” Charlie said. He took it from Birdie and turned it in his large hands, then set it on the island. “It seemed to upset her, but she wouldn’t say why. She was becoming a little unglued those last couple days, as if things were unraveling for her. And looking through this box seemed to make it worse, though she insisted it was what she needed to be doing. She stayed with me that night and she had horrible dreams. She sat up once, still asleep, and threw the bed pillow on the floor, screaming. I woke her up, held her. And then she cried, hard. And she didn’t stop.”

  He picked up the pillow again and stared at it. “But this pillow here, she couldn’t stop looking at it.”

  “Esther did a beautiful job,” Birdie said.

  Charlie nodded. “But I don’t think that’s why she was looking at it. Not that she was unappreciative, but it was something else.” He turned it over and touched a soiled spot on the back with his finger. A three-year-old smudge.

  “She asked me what the dirt was. ‘It’s three years old,’ I told her. How would I know? And she calmed down a little then.

  “She had a bunch of articles explaining how people died—they’re stuck in one of those books I gave you, Aunt Nell. She was trying so hard to understand her mom’s last hours, I think. Amber was so smart and things were a little easier for her if she could completely understand them. She wondered if I’d ever seen anyone die in nursing school, what it looked like.”

  Charlie took a deep breath, then continued. “I had seen one person, an elderly lady, die in her bed. There was some edema fluid on the sheet—I think I was trying to impress her a little, mentioning terms I knew.”

  They looked at the pillow for a long time, and then Birdie took it carefully from Charlie’s hands and set it back in the tissue folds.

  It was only then that Izzy noticed the last remaining item in the cardboard box. A square tapestry jewelry box.

  She took it out and opened the lid, then set it on the counter so they could all look inside.

  Nell lifted out a women’s wristwatch, silver and dainty. A watch that had long ago stopped telling time, perhaps rescued from the accident and never worn again, moving along with its owner from a hospital to a nursing home. Tiny diamond earrings were enclosed in a small plastic bag.

  “Patrick,” Izzy guessed, imagining the story as it might have unfolded. “He couldn’t give her a ring—not yet—so he bought her these beautiful earrings.”

  Earrings her daughter should be wearing right now. Cherishing the gift to her mother from her father.

  Birdie took out the last piece, a sealed plastic container holding a beautiful oval pin. The size of a silver dollar piece, the edges solid gold, the center a circle of ivory.

  “It’s elegant,” she said, holding it in the palm of her hand and looking at it carefully. “And valuable, though the pin is bent.”

  She passed it around for all of them to see as they tried to fit it into Izzy’s romantic story.

  “Maybe it was something she had on the night of the accident,” Nell said, but without much conviction. The stories they’d gathered about Ellie Harper held images of a freshly scrubbed, beautiful woman, comfortable in jeans and shorts and flannel shirts. Not unlike her daughter.

  Nell rubbed the oval with the pad of her finger. And then she frowned and put on her glasses, peering at the worn letters on the back of the brooch. She held it up to the light. And then her frown deepened as she passed the pin around, from Izzy to Charlie to Cass to Birdie.

  They couldn’t fit it into the story. It didn’t make sense to them.

  But perhaps it might to someone else. Birdie slipped the pin back into the plastic wrap and pulled out her phone.

  Chapter 36

  Birdie’s karma or good omen or whatever it was had not forsaken them. Izzy claimed it was the spiritual guide she had called upon.

  Nell said that whoever it was who stepped in to help them along the way, she was grateful.

  And grateful to Carly Schultz, too.

  Carly answered her phone immediately when Birdie called. Mondays were always slow and she had a break coming up. She’d like nothing better than to visit with her new friends.

  Charlie watched them head for coats and scarves. He gulped down the last of his milk and looked at Nell. “I’d like to go along,” he said.

  Nell stopped short, then walked over and gave her nephew a hug. “Of course you should be with us,” she said. “Don’t forget your hat.”

  • • •

  The route was now familiar to them, up the winding road to the iron gate. Carly had sent word that she had visitors coming; it wouldn’t be a problem getting in.

  But Nell held her breath anyway, and didn’t completely relax until the gates had silently rolled open and they found themselves inside. And then they shut behind them.

  Carly was waiting inside the lobby and greeted them with hugs as if they’d known each other for a long time. She included Charlie and Cass in her hugs, too, not even acknowledging that they hadn’t met before. She was thinking about moving to Sea Harbor from Danvers, she told them as she led them off to the lunchroom. And meeting all of them was adding significant weight to the “pros” side of her pros-and-cons decision chart. They were right up there next to her Sea Harbor boyfriend, she said.

  They settled at a quiet table near the window with Cokes and hot tea.

  Birdie mentioned seeing Doc Alan the day before and the nice things he had said about Carly.

  “He’s the absolute best,” she said. “Everyone loves him.”

  “He thought one of the reasons Amber had come over that week was that she was grateful to everyone who had helped her mother and wanted to thank them.”

  None of them had completely bought Alan Hamilton’s kind explanation for Amber’s unannounced visit to Ocean View, if it could be called a visit. The last week of Amber’s life was not one she wanted to spend on pleasantries and being grateful, they felt sure of that. And the further along they got in following her footsteps, the more certain they were that nearly every move Amber made that last week was to reach a goal.

  And that goal was finally becoming clear to the determined friends. Perhaps—if the good omen or guide or whoever she was stuck around—she could help them reach it.

  Soon.<
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  Carly listened and nodded now as they drank their tea and talked about Amber’s gratitude. “She thanked me that day. And Doc Alan. The priest. And I suppose that’s why she wanted to know anyone who had been with her mother that day. To thank them.”

  She looked up then and spotted another nurse across the lunchroom. “Oh, wait, there’s someone who knew Ellie. You might want to meet her.”

  She waved her hand and called to an older woman examining the sandwiches displayed in the glass case, “Georgia, over here.”

  The genial-looking woman waved back and lumbered across the room, then shook hands as Carly introduced her to her new friends.

  “What can I do for you?” Georgia asked.

  “They’re here because they knew Ellie Harper. Or her daughter, actually. Charlie here and Amber were good friends.”

  “Ah, our Ellie, she was a darling. Carly and I loved her. There was something about her, something that reached out to us.”

  “Georgia mostly worked nights while Ellie was here.”

  Georgia nodded. “And sometimes nights are long around here. Very quiet, usually. So often I sat with Ellie, knitting hats and scarves and what have you.”

  “I suppose you enjoyed Ellie’s beautiful flower arrangements, then,” Birdie said. “For the life of us, we can’t find anyone who owns up to having sent them.”

  Georgia laughed. “They were beautiful. We miss them. Came like clockwork, every week. I have my suspicions, but no proof, mind you.”

  “The mysterious night visitor,” Carly said knowingly.

  “A night visitor?” Nell asked.

  “Carly has a bit of drama in her,” Georgia said. “But it’s true that occasionally Ellie had an evening visitor. As crazy as it sounds, though, I never saw the person to talk to.”

  “But security here is so tight,” Cass said. “Surely someone did.”

  “It’s different at night, but of course there would have been security guys around. No one like Priscilla, though, who would definitely have known,” Carly said. “But visitors at night are fine, no rule against it, though they have to sign in.”