Moon Spinners

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “That sounds like it keeps them separated enough,” Nell said.

  “You’d think. Who knows? I guess you can’t pick your siblings—and personalities can clash.” Gracie passed the thermos around the table, then added, “But anyway, thank you all for hanging in there with me during these awful days.”

  “Where else would we hang?” Nell said. “Which reminds me, I have a quick question for you. I saw Julianne yesterday.”

  “I know—she loves the knitting project. She’s almost finished with the rolled edge of the hat, she said. Esther Gibson was sitting with her, their needles clicking, like fast friends. Julianne was suggesting acupuncture for Esther’s back. Who knew my mother knew about acupuncture?” Gracie tossed her hands in the air and laughed.

  “Your mother was telling me about a friend of hers—and yours, too. Mandy?” Nell said.

  “Mandy White. She owns the apartment building Joey and I lived in. She adopted us—well, me anyway—right along with five stray cats and three dogs. Animals seemed to read an invisible sign on Mandy’s window that says, ‘Come in. You’re home at last.’ She’s great.”

  “Your mother likes her, too.”

  “Julianne came by shortly after we moved in. She was in a bad way that day, disheveled and loud. She’d just had a huge fight with Sophia. Mandy made us all coffee, and we sat around in her living room looking at each other. But they stayed in touch after that. I was embarrassed, thinking my mother was trying to use Mandy in some way, money or something. But Mandy said it wasn’t like that. She said Julianne would call to ask about me.” Gracie fell silent, as if the memory had been dormant for so long she wasn’t sure it was real. “I’d nearly forgotten about that,” she said softly.

  “Apparently your mother went to Mandy’s the night that Sophia died, after she left the club.”

  Gracie nodded. “I didn’t know where she was those first few days. Joey found her. He remembered that Mandy’s was one of the few places Mom would be welcome. Mandy sees all sides of people and then manages to work her way around the things she doesn’t like or approve of about someone. I guess that explains why she and Julianne get along so well.”

  “Do you keep in touch with her?”

  Gracie nodded. “She’s the kind of friend that’s there for life—like you guys.”

  “Did Alphonso and Sophia know Mandy?”

  Gracie laughed. “Mandy wasn’t the kind of person Alphonso would likely know. And the neighborhood we lived in? My uncle wouldn’t know it existed—not unless there was a massive building project connected to it and the building could be bought cheap. Sophia, though, came by sometimes to check up on me, make sure I was okay, and she met Mandy a couple times.”

  “What about Joey’s family? Did they come around?”

  Gracie nodded. “The Delaneys thought Mandy was cool. Davey used to hang out with us a lot back then. Too much sometimes. Maeve liked Mandy too. They’d walk down to Sugar Magnolias for breakfast together, walk the boulevard, that sort of thing. I think she was a confidante for Maeve.”

  “Do you think she’d mind if we called her? Maybe she remembers something that happened those days right after Sophia died. It’s probably a long shot, but it can’t hurt.”

  “I know she wouldn’t mind. You’ll like each other.” Gracie pulled out her cell phone and tapped a couple buttons. “There. I texted you her number.”

  When Gracie went inside for the cream, Birdie asked Nell, “What do you think this Mandy will know?”

  “I’m not sure—except it might be helpful to confirm that Julianne was really with her those few days after Sophia was killed. Her car broke down, she said, so she was stuck. And apparently that’s where her car was when the police found the evidence they are using against her.”

  “It’s interesting that Maeve Delaney liked her. I wonder what she needed a confidante for?”

  “I guess we all need confidantes now and then. Maybe that’s how Sophia used her journal,” Nell said, pulling it out of her bag and setting it on the picnic table.

  Gracie returned with paper plates and a carton of cream. She passed around the plates and Birdie’s coffee cake. “I think Sophia had a journal like that for each year. I remember watching her write in it when I lived with them. She told me once it wasn’t a diary—she didn’t believe in diaries. It was her ‘life book,’ she called it.”

  “That’s an apt name for it. It looks like it’s a mixture of thoughts, her poems, and then some practical, real-life things, like appointments and phone numbers.”

  Izzy reached over and leafed through the book. Each page had a date at the top in lovely cursive writing. She looked for Saturday, the day after the yacht club party. There wasn’t a poem at the top, but Sophie had jotted several names at the bottom, including Gracie’s. And after Gracie’s name, the word “urgente.” Izzy pointed to the page.

  Alphonso’s name was listed below Gracie’s, followed by several others, almost as if Sophia were making appointments with people for the day.

  “She was making an appointment with her husband?” Izzy said, looking up.

  “Maybe just a reminder that she had to tell him something. Maybe whatever she talked to you about, Gracie.”

  A prominent Boston attorney was listed, along with an office address.

  “That’s the firm Sophia had us use for the divorce. They handle all Santos affairs—even my grandparents’ wills.”

  Nell leaned over Izzy’s arm, reading down the page. “What does she have for Friday? Maybe if we can walk in her shoes through that last week, she’ll lead us somewhere.”

  Izzy flipped back a page. Father Northcutt’s name stood out, with a note to send a donation. Another donation to the community center. And YACHT CLUB DINNER, written larger than the other words—seven o’clock.

  Nell wished there had been a comment. Had Sophia looked forward to the dinner? Had she dreaded going? By then she had known about Liz and Alphonso for a while. Did she want to stay away, be alone?

  But she hadn’t stayed away. And she’d been gracious and composed in front of half the town of Sea Harbor. Even in front of her husband’s mistress. And then she had died.

  Nell continued looking down the page. The name Maeve Delaney, jumped out. Three o’clock. Maeve Delaney meeting with Sophia? That seemed an unlikely pairing.

  The page before—presumably Thursday—was smudged. The top was a succession of exclamation points following the words “no marriage.” Nell frowned. That’s what she’d said at the deli, too. Alphonso and Liz? Or maybe she meant something else entirely. The thought lingered in the back of her head, settling there without resolution.

  Izzy pointed to another phone number, this one circled in red.

  Nell looked closer. “That’s odd, isn’t it? Nothing else is in red.”

  “Ella,” Birdie said. “Ella uses a red pencil for everything. Grocery lists, messages, crossword puzzles. She must have needed that number.”

  Izzy pulled out her phone and dialed the smudged number. The group hushed while the call was answered.

  Then Izzy said quickly, “Sorry, wrong number,” and hung up. She set her cell phone down and repeated, in a receptionist’s voice: “Delaney & Sons, may I help you?”

  “So what does that mean?” Cass finally said. “Ella wasn’t anywhere near the Delaney plant that night.”

  “No. But she called someone there, perhaps.”

  Cass took the book and turned the pages to Monday. “I think figuring out Sophia’s week is a good idea. She was collecting information, it sounds like. Maybe if we collect the same information, we’ll be a step closer.”

  “Or more confused,” Gracie said.

  Nell took a drink of coffee, her eyes traveling over the journal page. “I think Cass is right. We’ve been trying to follow every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Following Sophia is what we need to do. That last week may tell us a lot.”

  “Well, I know where she was on Monday,” Gracie said. “She went to Boston after she and Ella
got home from Mass. I called to see if she wanted to see the café. But she said she had urgent matters in Boston and it would have to be another day.”

  “Urgent. That seems to be the theme of her week.” Cass took a bite of the buttery coffee cake.

  “Why did she go to Boston?” Izzy asked.

  “They have a Beacon Hill house. Sophia often went in to shop or visit museums and shows. But none of that would be urgent.” Gracie frowned and flipped back to the Monday journal page. There was writing at the bottom of the page. 101A Mt. Vernon: SCC.

  Nell read it out loud. “Is that the Santoses’ house address? Ben and I used to live not far from there.”

  Gracie looked at it again, then shook her head. “No. Their place is on Beacon Street. But it’s the same neighborhood.”

  “So maybe she was visiting a friend?”

  Nell flipped a few pages, then stopped at a name. Sheridan. Where had she heard that before? “Sheridan,” she said out loud.

  Gracie shrugged. “I don’t know any Sheridans, but Sophia might have.”

  Then Nell straightened up. “I remember. Sophia wanted Danny Brandley to find out if Delaney & Sons used a firm with that name in it. Sheridan. Yes, that was it.”

  “Used it for what?” Izzy asked.

  “He didn’t know. Some subcontractor. But Sophia was anxious to know. And here’s the same name, in her book.”

  Nell repeated the name in her head and made a mental note to pass it along to Ben to see what he could find out about it.

  “So Monday she was in Boston,” Birdie said. “Wednesday we know she went to the deli with Ella.”

  “And Thursday she called Delaney & Sons. Maybe to make the appointment with Maeve?”

  “I wonder if Ella can fill in some of those hours for us,” Birdie mused.

  The sound of heavy footsteps drew their attention from the book to the back door. Sam Perry appeared, a camera in hand. He lifted it, poised to shoot.

  “Women at work, I’ll call this,” he said, and pressed the button. Then he lowered the camera. “I was on my way to shoot some giant cod and saw the open door. What’s up? This looks serious.”

  Gracie noticed the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee cup in his other hand and offered him a piece of coffee cake to go with it. “Sit, Sam.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He straddled the bench next to Izzy and listened carefully as Izzy filled him in on Sophia’s journal. Next to it was a piece of paper that Izzy had scribbled names on, crossing most of them off: Harold, Liz, Alphonso, Jake, Julianne. “I see Alphonso is still on your list.”

  “I don’t think he murdered his wife, but we can’t prove he didn’t,” Nell said.

  “I have a strictly practical reason why he didn’t do it, though it wouldn’t hold up in court,” Sam said.

  “What’s that?” Nell asked.

  “Maybe you have to be a car person to appreciate this. But Alphonso had special brakes put in that car. Brembo brakes. Someone who loved that car as much as he did wouldn’t have messed with the fine technology that he added to it. He just wouldn’t have. Think of your most valued knitting creation. Would you destroy it?”

  They were silent for a minute, thinking of cherished cashmere sweaters.

  “I get that,” Cass said slowly. “I have a new GPS for my boat. It’s almost sacred to me.”

  “That’s it, Cass,” Sam said. “I know that’s taking any humane reason out of the equation. When you add that back in—that Alphonso respected and cared about Sophia—well, then you don’t have much left.”

  “Where have I heard about Brembo brakes before?” Izzy asked. She frowned, thinking back over the crowded, confusing days since Sophia’s death.

  “Davey,” Nell said suddenly. “That day in the park.”

  “That’s right. He was ranting about the foolishness of Sophia driving a car that she knew nothing about. And he mentioned Brembo brakes.”

  “How would he know that the car had Brembo brakes?” Gracie asked. She looked at Sam. “How did you know?”

  “I took a photo of them when Alphonso was showing Joey and me the car. We’re both a little goofy about toys like that. I took a couple photos of the car for Alphonso’s office, so he let us take it for a spin. But Davey wasn’t there.”

  They fell silent. Nell wondered what the others were thinking. There were several directions you could go with this. And she wanted to be sure they headed in the right one. It just might be Boston.

  “You know what I think?” Sam asked. He took a last bite of the coffee cake and stood up. His strong face was filled with concern. “I think you’re getting too close to the fire.” His eyes met Izzy’s and he held them for what seemed like a long time. “There’s a murderer out there who doesn’t want to be found. And trying to find him—or her—could be very dangerous.” He paused and looked around the table at each of them, then settled back on Izzy. His voice had none of the playfulness that characterized Sam Perry. “It’s not a good idea, Izzy.”

  Then he suggested he give Izzy a ride to work since it was almost ten and the Seaside Studio would be opening. And Nell suspected his worries would be laid out in great detail to Izzy on the short ride down Harbor Road.

  Shortly afterward, Gracie excused herself to work with the appliance men in the kitchen, and Cass left to meet Pete at the dock and make some repairs to their trawler.

  Birdie looked at Nell. “How about a ride to the hospital?” she asked.

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  But they both knew the hospital was just a stop along the way.

  Chapter 32

  Ella was sitting up in bed, a lacy white bed jacket covering her shoulders. “Harold and Stella bought it for me,” she said proudly. Her demeanor was peaceful, but Nell and Birdie could see lines of discomfort in her face.

  “It’s almost as lovely as you’re looking today, Ella.” Birdie set a stack of magazines on the bedside table. “I hear we will be bringing you home in a day or so. It can’t be soon enough. We miss you.”

  Ella attempted a smile.

  “Ella,” Nell said, “I hope you don’t mind that we’ve read some of Sophia’s journal. I know that it’s special to you.”

  Ella frowned as if trying to remember where she’d left the leather-bound book. “I would like it back.”

  Nell nodded. “Sophia had some appointments written in it, but not for every day. We thought maybe you’d know what she did that week, the week that she died.”

  Ella drew her brows together and spoke slowly, remembering. “Monday we went to Mass. And then she went to Boston.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “She needed to check something out, was all she said. Sophia was like that. Always careful. Precise. Tuesday we went to Mass, and Wednesday we went to the deli after Mass. Sophia was upset that day, but she didn’t talk about it. She said it would be all right and I shouldn’t worry. She was finally getting it all together. And she went back again to Boston—Thursday, I think.”

  “Do you know why she went back again?”

  Ella chuckled to herself. “She used an American expression, and it was humorous the way she said it. She said she had to see a man about a horse. And then she added, ‘Only the horse is a man, and the man is a woman.’” Ella frowned again. “Or did I get that mixed up?” She rested her head back against the pillows.

  “I think you got it just fine, Ella,” Birdie said.

  “Harold said he has the doctor’s okay to start driving again.”

  “Yes.” Birdie nodded. And then she joked, “But not you, Ella dear.”

  Ella blushed and closed her eyes. “I can’t imagine what possessed me.”

  “Something quite important,” Nell said. “We think you may have called Delaney & Sons that day. Perhaps you wanted to see someone there?”

  Ella’s eyelids lifted and a curious expression played across her face. “Well, yes, I did,” she said. “A machine answered.”

  Birdie and Nell listened carefully.


  “And I asked it to call me back.”

  “Who did you want to call you back?”

  Ella wrinkled her forehead in fierce thought. “Yes,” she said, almost to herself. “I remember that. Sophia had called there, and I thought it might help me if I knew why. So I called, too. I left a message saying I had found the number in Sophia’s journal. And I asked that they call me back. That’s what I did. I said, ‘Please call me back. It’s very important.’”

  “And did they call you back?”

  Ella leaned back into the pillows. Her eyes closed again and her words slurred as the pain medication took effect. “Yes,” she said. “They did.”

  The Delaney plant was on the western edge of town, out near the old highway. D.J. always said the Delaneys were more true to their roots than the Santoses because they kept their business within the Sea Harbor city limits and contributed heavily to the tax base. The Santos’ facility, on the other hand, was over near Danvers.

  Ben and Nell were amused by D.J.’s boast, since nearly everyone in town knew that the Santos family trust contributed to just about every town cause—and in extravagantly generous ways.

  Nell pulled onto Delaney Road a short while later, and the next turn was into the construction company proper. The complex was surrounded by chain-link fence, but the entrance gate was open and welcoming. A bright red Delaney & Sons sign announced that they were in the right place.

  “It looks like a ranch,” Birdie said, as they drove up a gravel road to the main building. Beyond it was a series of lumber warehouses, and beyond that, a field filled with trucks and tractors and more construction vehicles than Nell and Birdie had ever seen assembled in a single place.

  Nell parked in a visitor’s spot and they walked through the front door of the office.

  “Hi, Mrs. Favazza, Mrs. Endicott,” a cheery redheaded girl sang out from behind a desk.

  “Janie Levin, what a nice surprise. I’d forgotten you took a job out here.”

  “Yep. Pretty soon I’ll run the whole place.” Janie laughed. “What are you guys doing here? Want us to build you something?”