“We’ve all made mistakes, Georgina. Are you sure you’re not falling on your sword because Melodie wants you to? Just because she didn’t like the tacos doesn’t mean it was the tacos, you know.”
“She and Bryce want to get out of here as soon as he’s medically cleared to travel. They don’t need lingering questions about yesterday.”
“With law enforcement, you mean.”
She crossed her arms tightly on her chest. “It was an innocent mistake with mushrooms.”
“Uh-uh.” Nick turned onto the main road out of the hospital. “There’s no reason to think the Fannings have anything to hide from law enforcement, but don’t let Melodie pressure you into admitting to poisoning people unless you’re sure you did, okay?”
She smiled at him. “Okay, Nick.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want the FBI sniffing around if I were Bryce and Melodie. It’s like these doctors. They start looking for things, they’re going to find something.”
“You with the cynicism again.”
“I’m just saying the Fannings can have nothing to hide while at the same time not want to invite scrutiny. Even if they do have something to hide, it doesn’t mean it has anything to do with bad mushrooms ending up in the tacos.”
“Inedible. They hadn’t gone bad.”
He grinned at her. “Okay, inedible mushrooms. And you’re right. I am being cynical. The wrong mushrooms were served at an otherwise fun, uneventful party. End of story.”
For you, maybe. But Georgina would accept blame for an unfortunate mistake in misidentifying mushrooms, and then they could be on their way out of Heron’s Cove. She didn’t know what would happen with Bill Hornsby, but he’d be okay—and he had friends here. He didn’t need her to look after him.
She struggled to convince herself she’d added sickeners to the tacos and couldn’t remember, but Melodie, Bryce, Richie and, if he were being honest, Nick wanted her to let it go. Cop to it and move on. Easier for everyone.
Her galley, her responsibility.
And the Aoife O’Byrne painting?
If someone had stolen it, misplaced it or destroyed it, what difference did it make to her?
None at all.
When they arrived at the marina and walked down to the docks, Georgina saw Kevin Donovan alone out past the Sharpe offices. “I’ll talk to him,” she told Nick.
“You don’t have to talk to him, Georgie. Let the skipper and the Fannings deal with the cops.”
“I don’t mind. He and a nurse gave me a lift back here last night. Anyway, I have nothing to hide. You can let Richie know if you want.”
“No problem. Do your thing. I’ll check in with Richie and head back to the hospital.”
Nick trotted onto the yacht. Georgina hesitated, then approached Kevin and smiled at him. “I just got back from the hospital. I’m supposed to help get ready for Bryce Fanning to come back here. He’s being discharged soon.”
“Glad to know he’s recovering,” Kevin said.
“Is your brother joining you?”
“Two minutes out.”
“The yacht’s a lot more pleasant than when you two were here yesterday. You’re welcome to check out the kitchen. The galley, as we say. It’s my domain, and you have my permission to take a look. Open the drawers and cabinets, pull everything out of the fridge. Whatever you want.”
Kevin frowned at her. “Are you all right?”
“Brilliant. It’s been my kind of weekend.” She heard her sarcasm—the catch in her voice—and looked up at the sky, a clear autumnal blue. She fought tears as she smiled again at the handsome marine patrol officer. “I’m now the mushroom poisoner extraordinaire. Don’t mind me. I’m feeling sorry for myself. Give me a minute. I’ll let Richie know I’ve invited you and your brother on board.”
With that, she bolted, bursting into tears with no idea what she’d do next. Calm down and let Richie handle the Donovans? Lock herself in her cabin? Jump into the river? She ran through a long list of options as she went up to the sundeck. By the time she found Richie on the bridge, she felt reasonably sane. Somehow articulating her options—from realistic to crazy—helped.
“Sure,” Richie said when she told him about the Donovan brothers. “I’ll look after them.”
Georgina stifled a laugh of pure relief. See? A mountain out of a molehill. What she needed, she thought, was a good long run...and word from London that her father was improving. That would help most of all.
14
When Colin arrived in Heron’s Cove, he found his youngest brother on the pebbled beach in front of the inn on the opposite side of the Sharpe offices from the marina. A few inn guests were sitting on the porch in the sun, reading books and watching the tidal river. “Hey, Kevin,” Colin said. “You didn’t bring Beth doughnuts this morning?”
“No.”
“She made up an excuse to check on Hornsby and Bryce Fanning hoping to see you.” But Kevin didn’t answer, and Colin saw he was in no mood and gave it up. “What’s up?”
“Georgina’s gone on a run. We have permission to go on board the yacht. Check out her galley.” He glanced sideways at Colin. “Have you pried the truth out of your British friends yet?”
“Working on it.”
Kevin toed a river-polished stone loose. “Nick Lothian drove back to hospital to get Bryce and Melodie Fanning. Richie Hillier and the other crew members are on board.”
“I’ll collect the rest of Hornsby’s things and then go up to the galley. Join me?”
Kevin scooped up the stone and stood up with it. “I’m good.”
Colin felt his brother’s coolness. “Kevin—”
“You don’t need to explain to me, Colin. Do your thing.”
“I know Bill Hornsby from my work. He’s here because Georgina Masterson’s father is deathly ill due to mushroom poisoning.”
Kevin looked out at a dingy bobbing in the water on the opposite shore. “Who’s the father?”
Colin told him what he could about the Mastersons, the Aoife O’Byrne painting and Henrietta’s and Oliver’s visit—without mentioning MI5.
Kevin got the picture. “Newly retired, just saw his daughter off after a satisfying visit—what, suicide?”
“That’s what everyone seems to think,” Colin said. “His final act was to buy Georgina the painting. She’s having a rough time.”
“Tough to lose your father, but to have him take his own life after you visit him...” Kevin rubbed his stone with his thumb. “That’s bad.”
Colin nodded and picked up a stone for himself. It was cool, wet; bits of sand stuck to it. He liked its solid feel in his hand as he and Kevin talked about death. “Georgina must wonder if she was the catalyst for her father poisoning himself. But we don’t know that’s what happened.” He threw his stone but it was one lousy effort. Out of practice. “I called Matt Yankowski on my way down here.”
“How’d that go?”
“He was just back from Sunday brunch with his wife and sitting in her knitting shop on Newbury Street.”
“Knitting shop’s doing well?”
“Yank says it is. Lucy’s happy. That’s what counts for him.”
Colin hadn’t seen Lucy Yankowski since Tim Sharpe’s funeral. Yank had still been in the hospital. She’d given up her job as a clinical psychologist in Northern Virginia to move to Boston after he’d started HIT. It turned out she was ready for a career change, but she hadn’t known that in those first tense, early months after he’d announced he was heading his own small team away from the crush of Washington and FBI Headquarters.
Kevin squinted at the sunlit river. “He’s getting your team involved in this thing?”
“As needed.”
“I won’t ask you to elaborate.” He grabbed another stone. “I don’t need to give you room to maneuver. You’ll take it.”
<
br /> “Kevin—”
His brother grinned. “Just stating the facts.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “Emma’s here. She’ll want to join you packing up your buddy Hornsby’s stuff.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Head back to Rock Point.” Kevin reared back and flung his stone into the water, beating Colin’s by yards. “I’m meeting Beth for a drink at Hurley’s after she gets off work.”
“That beats doughnuts.”
Kevin pretended not to hear him as he returned to his truck. Colin watched a seagull arc above the river and swoop past the channel out to sea. Part of him wished he could do the same, provided he had Emma with him.
He resisted another try with a stone and headed up to the docks to find Emma.
* * *
As far as Colin could tell, Jeremy’s cabin was unchanged since yesterday morning—except for the cleaned rug. Emma sat at the end of the bed while he grabbed a battered soft-sided suitcase out of the closet.
Richie Hillier had followed them into the cabin. “We scrubbed down the entire yacht, but we only did the carpet in here. We didn’t touch anything else. We decided to wait until we have Mr. Hornsby’s permission or he leaves. He won’t be returning here once he’s out of the hospital?”
“He’s staying with friends in the area while he recuperates,” Emma said.
Colin placed the suitcase on the bed. “He’s probably had this thing since I was in kindergarten. What was it like here yesterday before people started getting sick?”
Richie hovered in the doorway. “Georgina left early for her run to the convent. The nuns delivered the vegetable order about the same time she got back, and she went straight to work on the party. A few of the passengers walked up Ocean Avenue to see the summerhouses. Bryce didn’t go out. He read on the sundeck. Melodie stayed to greet guests arriving for the day. It was a beautiful New England fall day, and everyone was enjoying it.”
“And Georgina?” Emma asked. “How did she strike you?”
“About how you’d expect under the circumstances. It doesn’t look good for her father, I’m afraid, but she’s coping as best she can. She’s been torn about what to do. They aren’t close, but the Fannings have made clear she can leave anytime to be with him. We will do all we can to help. I have a daughter her age myself.”
Colin collected an armful of clothes out of the closet and placed them in the suitcase. Everything was casual and understated but high quality, appropriate for a London art consultant. He hadn’t paid much attention to what Jeremy had worn in their previous interactions.
Absolutely no sign of the Aoife O’Byrne painting. “Did Bill leave anything in another part of the yacht?” Colin asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Richie said. “We’d have returned any of his things we found during cleaning—probably would have left them on the bed.”
Emma stood up. “Were you surprised when Melodie Fanning invited him on board at the last minute?”
Richie shrugged. “She’s done that sort of thing before. Bryce doesn’t seem to mind. We’ll leave as soon as he’s well enough to travel. I doubt that’ll be tomorrow, but maybe by Tuesday.”
Colin walked over to the entertainment center. Not a bad place to spend a few days cruising the New England coast. He didn’t notice anything that belonged to Jeremy. “Did you get a chance to interact with Bill Hornsby or any of the other passengers?”
Richie shook his head. “Not really. Hornsby chatted me up over Scotch Thursday night. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s not that it was unusual—people are interested in yachts, what I do—but it struck me as unusual for an art consultant. That could be my ignorance or prejudice. For the most part I don’t interact much with passengers and guests. I’m too busy. I have a crew. It’s not a problem for a short cruise, but I hope we’ll have more people when the Fannings buy their new yacht—especially if they’re going to have these spontaneous parties. I don’t know what will happen with Georgina. I’m not sure she’ll be back after she deals with her father’s situation.”
Colin looked at him. “Is she leaving for London?”
“Not yet that I’m aware of, but I don’t think she has much longer if she wants to see him.” Richie grimaced, awkward. “That’s what Melodie said this morning. I don’t have any information myself. Melodie’s taking the mistake with the mushrooms well, but maybe she’s just smoothing Georgina’s way out of here. Let her go home to her father. Don’t invite her back.”
“She’s passionate about wild edibles,” Emma said.
“Loves foraging. She’ll be happier with a job that allows for it. Working on yachts—not much opportunity to slip off to the woods to pick things. She sketches wild plants on her breaks. I’ve seen her. She’ll have something simmering on the stove, and sit at the counter and sketch fiddleheads. She has some stored in the galley. I’ll show you if you’d like.”
Colin zipped up the bag. “That’d be great. I’m all set here.”
He took the suitcase with him. Emma checked the cabin to make sure they had everything. Richie shut the door behind them and led them up to the galley. He went straight to a drawer by the refrigerator. He opened it up and pulled out a stack of sketches on thick white paper. “Here you go,” he said.
He set the sketches on the peninsula in front of three bar stools. Emma sat on one of the stools. Colin stood next to her. The top sketch was, in fact, of fiddleheads, a spring favorite with his father. It was precise and detailed, done with colored pencils.
Richie stayed on the other side of the counter. “Georgina says drawing her wild edibles, as she calls them, helps her memorize and recognize traits to make accurate identification easier.”
Emma flipped through several more sketches, pausing at one of red-capped mushrooms. “These look like the ones Sister Cecilia pointed out this morning. Have you seen any mushrooms like this on the yacht?”
“No, ma’am,” Richie said. “Are they what made people sick yesterday?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
She flipped to the next sketch, and Colin saw it was different from the first ones—dragons done in black pencil. Three of the dragons were in flight, and one was breathing fire from a cave. He glanced at Richie. “Dragons?”
“I haven’t seen that one, but Georgina does enjoy her dragons. I think she’s watched every dragon movie ever made. Look, is there anything else? I have work to do before Melodie and Nick get back with Bryce.”
“Thanks for talking with us,” Emma said.
“Right. No problem. Glad Mr. Hornsby will be okay. You’ll see yourselves out?”
“Sure thing,” Colin said.
With Richie gone, Emma took another turn through the sketches. “Dragons, fiddleheads, mushrooms, violets and dandelions.” She eased off the stool and stood straight. “Drawing could be therapeutic for her, especially now with her father in such rough shape.”
“Are you doing okay with this, given Tim?”
She smiled at him. “I am. Thank you for asking.”
Melodie and Nick entered the galley. “Richie warned us you were here,” Melodie said, beelining for the refrigerator. “We’re just back with Bryce. He’s resting. The drive from the hospital was taxing. He’s worn out, poor guy.”
“I imagine he is.” Emma pointed at the sketches. “The captain showed us these.”
“Oh, yes,” Melodie said. “Georgina’s work. A bit amateurish but she enjoys doing them.”
Nick nodded. “She says having to think about whether to draw gills on a mushroom helps her remember identifying traits. I thought only fish had gills.”
Melodie rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. She took a bottle of ginger ale out of the refrigerator. “Bryce is resting on the sundeck. He wants some fresh air, and he wants to talk to you, Agent Sharpe and Agent Donovan. You’ll keep in mind he’s ill, won’t you
? I’ll put together a tray for him.”
“Let me do up the tray,” Nick said, edging her away from the refrigerator.
She set the ginger ale on the counter and thanked him. “Bryce will recover, but I’ve never seen him so sick. He’s not angry with Georgina, either. We want her to go back to London and see her father. Get through that ordeal, and then we can figure out what’s next.”
Nick opened an upper cupboard and got a jar of applesauce and a box of saltines. “Georgie’s a great chef. She’s young. I hope this episode doesn’t rock her confidence.”
“I’m glad she’s gone for a run,” Melodie said. “She doesn’t have to do any work for us before she leaves. We can manage food without her. I didn’t pressure her about admitting to using the wrong mushrooms, either.”
“She’s admitted to them, hasn’t she?” Emma asked.
“Yes, but I think she suspected she didn’t have much choice. I haven’t told her, but I found the bag she took to the convent. It had bits and pieces of chanterelles and red mushrooms.”
Nick microwaved a mug of water and pulled open a drawer for a tea bag. He seemed to be trying to focus on his work and stay out of the conversation.
Colin eyed Melodie. “Where was this bag?”
“In the galley pantry. The crew who cleaned in here wouldn’t have noticed it. I’d seen her come back with it, so I knew what it was.”
“Were you looking for it?” Emma asked.
“Half yes, half no.” Melodie sighed, watching Nick. “I threw out the bag at the hospital. I was going to give it to Bryce’s doctors, but I changed my mind. Everyone’s on the mend. There’s no way to prove any of the mushrooms Georgina picked were the actual ones that made people sick. It just doesn’t matter at this point.”
“I agree,” Nick said.
Melodie shifted to Emma and Colin. “It was controlled chaos in here yesterday. Anyone could have grabbed the bag assuming any mushrooms inside were okay to eat. Given the state Georgina’s in, I’m not surprised she did just that herself, no matter what kind of foraging expert she thinks she is.”
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