by Jean Stone
“The filmmaker?” Annie knew the man had won several awards for his historical docudramas that took place during World War II and were centered around the men and women who had served.
“Fenterly is one of Roger Flanagan’s old cronies. He flew in for the wedding. He supposedly wanted me to talk with his partner back in New York. We left before the fireworks because the guy was taking off for Paris the next day. I didn’t think I needed to sign out.”
“Are you saying the airline gave the police the wrong information and your name will be on the passenger list?”
“No. We traveled by private plane.” Colin crossed back to the chair and sat down again.
So far, none of this had anything to do with Fiona being poisoned. “If nothing else,” Annie said, “it might have been nice if you’d told your sister you were going.”
“Look, I told you, I barely communicate with either of my sisters, except to argue about what to do with the mausoleum on Chappy.” He folded his arms again.
“He knew about the cake,” Fiona interrupted.
Annie’s eyebrows shot up. Colin turned and faced her.
“I already told you I met Nicole on the boat,” he said. “And, yes, we were talking about how crazy things get in summer. Then she told me about two honey cakes that a woman had in the ladies’ room. The woman said they were poisonous and asked Nicole to throw them away. Nicole said she did. Then she reminded me Dana and I used to buy honey from the wagon that came from up island, then we made little cakes for Fiona. She loved them.” He propped his elbows on his knees, and pressed his palms together as if he were praying—an act that seemed out of character. Annie wondered if, like Roger Flanagan, he was trying to manipulate her. And Fiona, too.
“She said one of them hadn’t been touched, and that I might consider giving it to Fiona. She said maybe a good dose of illness might prompt my sister into finally leaving the island and agreeing to let me sell them the house.”
“I don’t understand,” Annie said. “Why would Fiona decide to sell just because she got sick?”
“It didn’t make sense to me, either,” Colin said. “Until I figured out that Nicole wanted Roger to think that Fiona would sue him; she probably planted that in his head, as well as the threat that he’d sue Fiona back. Fiona has never liked confrontation; she’s shy, just like our mother was. My bet is Nicole counted on scaring Fiona into agreeing to sell. She’d never allow Sheila to get her bird sanctuary, but if she turned over her voting rights to me, we’d be set. We only need two-thirds to sell to the Flanagans.”
“Okay,” Annie interrupted, “they want your property. I already know that.” She could have sat on the ottoman, but she felt safer remaining by the door.
Colin continued. “Nicole wanted to tear it down and build what she called a ‘show palace.’ She’s planned this since our parents died. Everyone thinks Roger controls that family. But it’s really her. She’s made Roger pump a ton of money into every island charity she knows of. She thinks that means the planning board and the selectmen bend the regulations when Roger applies for the permit.”
Which supported Monsieur LeChance’s theory as to why Roger supported the garden club, despite the fact that neither he nor Nicole had any visible penchant for flowers.
So far, Colin made sense. But Annie was careful not to let down her guard.
“Unlike Chilmark,” he added, “Edgartown doesn’t limit the size of residential homes yet. There aren’t many house restrictions at all, except in the village where there are regulations about everything.”
“How do you know all this about the Flanagans?”
He let out a low groan. “Not proud of myself, but Dana and I were friends with benefits, you know what I mean? She knew I’d never marry her; that family is too screwed up. But she told me about her mother’s real estate plans. And that I should negotiate a wicked-high price.”
“Fine,” Annie said, “but talk to me about the honey cake. And tell me the truth this time.”
“Right. Sorry I wasn’t completely forthcoming, but, Jesus, I didn’t know you. You could have been working for Nicole. Spying on me, you know?”
Annie could not disagree.
“Anyway, Nicole said I should retrieve the cake that hadn’t been touched from the bin and give it to Fiona. She said it looked like it just came out of a bakery.” He examined his fingernails. “I told her no thanks. Then she frowned—have you ever noticed how when someone’s had too many face-lifts, when they try to frown you don’t see any lines, but it makes them look like they’re in pain?” He sighed. “Right after that, the steamship guy announced that drivers had to return to their vehicles, so I went down to the freight deck and got into my car. End of story.”
“Not really,” Fiona said.
“Right,” he said quietly.
Annie waited. She’d developed a cramp in her right hip from standing motionless with her muscles tensed. Still, she didn’t move.
“When Fenterly approached me at the reception, I ran home to grab my valise. When I raced through the kitchen, I saw a white box by the sink. It looked like a bakery box.”
“Was it the honey cake?” Annie asked.
“I can’t say for certain. I paid no more attention to it; I was in too much of a hurry. I do know it hadn’t been there in the morning when I’d gone next door to help set up for the wedding. When I got home yesterday, it was gone. The hospital had left a bunch of messages on my cell saying Fiona was there. When you and your brother showed up, I was trying to find her. We might have our differences, but she’s still my sister, you know?”
Annie had one more question. “Colin, who told you Fiona was at the Kelley House? How did you find her here?”
He shrugged. “Small island. I asked the captain of the On Time. He saw her walk up here.”
Small island, indeed, Annie thought. Reminders were everywhere.
“I’m glad he found me,” Fiona said quietly, and Annie realized she’d forgotten that the girl was there.
Then, as Annie turned to leave, Colin offered one last comment.
“If you want to know what else is going on with the Flanagans, I suggest you talk to Taylor.”
Taylor? Her again?
Chapter 27
The only one Annie wanted to talk to was John. He would have been able to cut through the crap (as Earl would have said), solve the case, and move on. She didn’t need Taylor’s input, no matter what Colin had suggested. She didn’t know whom to believe, and she was growing weary of trying.
“I’m done with it,” she said to herself as she went back to the cottage. She texted Kevin to ask if he’d stop by after work. She wanted to tell him about the day’s events, and that she’d tried her best, but frankly, if Fiona was poisoned again, it would not be Annie’s fault.
Kevin texted back, saying he’d be there in an hour.
Deciding that she needed rest, Annie went into the bedroom. But as she climbed atop her comfy bed, someone knocked on her front door.
She wondered what would happen if she hid under the quilt and didn’t respond.
The knock came again.
Still, Annie didn’t move. If it was Taylor, she would have seen Annie’s car in the driveway; she’d only have to glance inside and see Annie’s purse, keys, and laptop on the desk to know that Annie was inside . . . at which point she might call the ambulance and police cruiser over from Edgartown in case Annie was dead or sick or, God forbid, had eaten poisoned honey cake. Countless people in the queue for the On Time would be forced to wait if Taylor cried “Emergency!” because, as Annie now knew, the ambulance and cruiser were first on the list of “cutters.”
She got up.
But it wasn’t Taylor at the door. It was a young man.
“Yes?” Annie asked, when she opened it.
“Are you Ms. Sutton?” He was tall, lanky, and looked to have escaped his teen years relatively unscathed. “I’m Jonas Flanagan.”
Ah . . . Annie thought. The new tenant. She s
tepped aside. “Come in. You must be the artist.” Her dad, after all, had taught her to always be polite. Until you know it would be better not to, he had added.
Jonas had the same blue eyes as his grandfather, though his hair tended toward ginger, a lighter shade than Taylor’s, if the rumor about her was true. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” he said.
“Not at all. I just came home.” She wasn’t sure she should have called the cottage “home,” but it hadn’t seemed to faze him. “Would you like to sit down? Or would you like a tour of the cottage? I don’t know if you’ve seen it. . . .”
He nodded. “I used to play in here when I was little. Gramps said he’s updated a few things.” He didn’t make a move to sit. “I’m sorry you have to move on account of me. I wanted you to know it wasn’t my idea.”
Annie was baffled. She wondered how much more drama her brain could take that day. She stepped to one side. “Please, Jonas, sit down. Let’s have a talk.” If he was Taylor’s son, his demeanor was much different. He seemed quieter, less breathless. Or brash.
He sat on the rocking chair and declined iced tea or water. “Between you and me, I don’t want to live here. But my grandfather says that if I do, I’ll be able to jump-start my career. What I really want is to move to New York. That’s where careers are made, not on an island where there’s a captive audience only a few weeks a year.”
Annie sat on the love seat across from him. “But you’re out of college. . . .”
He laughed. “And I should be able to do what I want, right? The truth is, I need some financial support to get started, and Gramps will only help if I live here.”
“Oh,” Annie said. “Well, I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Yeah, me, too. So my plan is to stay here until I’ve made enough money to go to the city on my own. I’m hoping it won’t take forever.” Then he grew quiet, which led Annie to wonder if he’d really only stopped by to apologize for her being uprooted. Or if he knew something about the mystery going on.
“Jonas?” she asked. “Is there some specific reason you came over?”
His eyes flashed over to her. “Yeah. It’s about Fiona Littlefield. Is she in some kind of trouble?”
Annie tried not to act surprised that he had asked. “Why are you asking me?”
Averting his eyes from her to the woodstove, then to her bookcases, then back to her, he said, “I heard my grandparents talking about her, that she’s gone nuts or something. I feel bad. Fiona’s always been nice to me.”
“Fiona is fine,” Annie replied. “But we think someone might have tried to hurt her.”
He lowered his eyes and rocked the chair a few times. “You probably don’t know that my grandmother talked Dana into letting Fiona be a bridesmaid. She said it would be a nice thing to do, seeing as how they’d practically grown up together in the summers here.”
Annie’s thoughts raced. Had Nicole first hoped she could win Fiona over by having her be a bridesmaid . . . and then trying to convince her to change her mind about selling the house? But, when encountering the poisonous cake, had she come up with a different plan? Annie wondered how much more Jonas knew, or would be willing to tell. “Did you know that Fiona was poisoned?” she asked.
His gaze left hers and roamed the room. “I heard them say that. But she really is okay now?”
“She is. But we’re still trying to figure out how it happened. To make sure no one did it on purpose.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
Good idea? What an odd remark. Then a knot formed in Annie’s stomach. “Jonas? Do you know what happened?”
It took a moment, then he replied, “Maybe.”
Life is filled with the unexpected, her dad had said back when Annie had turned nine and her mother had run off with the elementary school vice principal. The trick is to learn how to deal with it.
She decided that the best way to deal with Jonas was to be patient.
“I heard my grandmother say the cake needed to go over to the Littlefields. She said there had been another one, but she’d dumped it out because someone had taken a bite. But she said that one was brand-new, and Fiona wouldn’t be able to resist.” He picked at the cuff of his cargo shorts that were similar to Colin’s.
“When was that?” Annie asked.
“The day of Dana’s wedding. After the ceremony. Before the party started.”
“And who was she talking to?”
The boy fell silent again. Annie tried to stay seated, tried to stay calm.
“Taylor,” he said. “She’s my real mother, you know.”
So there it was. A connection to Taylor, in more ways than one.
“Nobody knows I know that she’s my mother,” he continued. “But I sleep in the room that was my father’s. I found love letters they wrote back and forth after she found out she was pregnant. They were going to run away and get married. He’d even bought airplane tickets for Hawaii. But he drowned before they could.” His eyes moved to the woodstove. “Imagine that,” he added somberly. “I could have grown up in Hawaii.”
* * *
After Jonas left, Annie poured a glass of wine. She needed to think this through, starting with Taylor, who really was Jonas’s mother. But was she involved with Fiona being poisoned? Had Nicole enlisted Taylor to deliver the honey cake? And if so, why? So Nicole would avoid suspicion?
Then Annie wondered if Taylor was under Nicole’s thumb because of Jonas. The Flanagans had apparently supported Taylor and her family as recompense for giving them Jonas. Did they still? Was that why Taylor had commented that she and “Mother” did not need the income from renting their garage apartment?
If the Flanagans were their benefactors, Taylor could hardly have said no to whatever Nicole demanded.
By the time Kevin arrived, Annie had nearly finished her wine and her brain was still muddled.
“What’s up?” he asked as he padded into the living room in his socks, having left his work boots on the porch.
“Help yourself to a beer,” she said. “We need to do some serious thinking.”
Once Kevin was settled on the rocker where Jonas had sat, Annie spewed out everything, including Monsieur LeChance’s comments that Roger had been interested in the Littlefield property for years and had cozied up to the local politicians with that in mind, and that Myrna’s further description of the mystery woman on the boat suggested it was Nicole. She then told him about meeting Colin in Fiona’s room and hearing his confirmation that the Flanagans wanted the property. She added Colin’s story about the filmmaker whisking him off to New York, then ended with Jonas’s account of Nicole handing off the cake to Taylor with instructions to plant it at the Littlefields’. She didn’t reveal the part about Taylor being Jonas’s mother; later, there would be time for that.
By the time she was finished, Kevin had drained his beer. “Wow,” he said. “Talk about too much information.”
Annie nodded.
“But what do we do now?”
“I don’t know. I was counting on you to come up with an idea. We know a lot, but the details get confusing.”
Kevin got another beer. Annie declined a second glass of wine.
“Let’s back up,” he said, resuming his seat. “We know Nicole got her hands on the poison cake.”
“Yes,” Annie concurred. “That seems like a fact.”
“We know that initially there were two cakes.”
“Yes.”
“But Nicole wasn’t holding either cake when Colin was talking with her.”
“Right again. According to Colin, Nicole suggested that he should retrieve the untouched one from the bin if he wanted to use it to coax Fiona into selling them the property.”
“But he turned her down.”
“Yes.”
“So after Colin went downstairs to get into his car, Nicole must have realized she could do it herself. She must have gone back to the trash, retrieved the cake, and left behind the one Myrna had tasted.”
An
nie closed her eyes. “You are brilliant, my brother.”
“I know. But both Colin and Fiona were staying at their house. How could Nicole be sure that when Colin saw the cake, he wouldn’t guess what Nicole was up to and get rid of it?”
“I guess the only foolproof thing was for Nicole to make sure Colin wasn’t there.”
“But he was there. He was at the wedding.”
“And he was whisked off to New York by a big-time filmmaker who just happened to offer him a meeting with a man who just happened to be leaving the next day for Europe. As far as I can tell, Colin has no work and probably needs money. And he was both flattered and excited to meet the guy. Nicole could have set him up through Roger’s old crony who’d been at the wedding.”
“To get Colin off the island.”
“So Taylor could see to it that Fiona was poisoned.”
“But Nicole made a mistake: It never occurred to her that Colin would run home to get his valise and spot the box.”
“Or that her grandson had overheard her conversation with Taylor to deliver the cake.”
Kevin moved the beer bottle in small circles, lightly swishing its contents. “Okay. But what doesn’t make sense is why did Nicole call Taylor to do her dirty work? Earl is the Flanagans’ caretaker, not Taylor.”
Annie knew enough about her brother to tread lightly now. “Most people on Chappy know one another. Over the years, friendships probably grow in different ways.”
He narrowed his eyes and smirked. “You sound like you’re hiding something. You can tell me. I’m a big boy.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Annie said, “First, Jonas told me that he doesn’t want to live here, that his grandfather is railroading him into it by refusing to support Jonas if he goes to New York City.”
“Roger has all the money.”
“Yes. But apparently, Nicole doles it out. I bet she concocted the idea for Jonas to move in here in order to throw me out without tipping her hand. She plans to tear down everything—the main houses and the cottage—and build her ‘show palace,’ as she told Colin. With me gone, that would be one fewer obstacle for them. And who knows, maybe Roger was in on all of it, too.”