A Holiday Yarn (10 page)

Mary smiled. "I remember. She'd come in, lugging her wicker baskets filled with food--and drink, I might add. I think my grandfather gained ten pounds while he was sick. He loved it."

"So why would a nice person expend this kind of energy on something that won't affect her at all? She'll never even see the guests coming and going," Nancy said.

"Exactly," Mary said. "Why?"

So many "why's" rattling around in this big house, Nell thought, looking around the room as the others tried to make sense of Henrietta O'Neal. Her eyes traveled to the enormous fireplace with a hand-carved walnut mantel holding photos and pottery. The shelves beside it were filled with books and small paintings, and the recently reupholstered furniture was tasteful and comfortable. She remembered coming to parties in this room, parties Enzo proudly hosted, long after his wife had died. He was the consummate host, charming and with a contagious sense of humor. There was always laughter here. A happy house. Certainly not one filled with evil spirits as Henrietta would have the world believe.

The slamming of a back door pulled her from her memories.

"It's just Kevin," Mary said. "That back door sticks. Did I tell you he's going to stay on here? He'll work part-time at the Ocean's Edge, but once we're up and running, he'll handle breakfasts and a cocktail hour here for the guests."

"That's terrific," Izzy said. "I think I'll sign up for a weekend getaway myself. It would be worth it, just for those amazing little things Kevin makes with prosciutto and figs. He'll help put you on the map."

Mary laughed. "He's good; that's for sure. And it solves some problems for us. My Ed doesn't want to move here. He loves our little house. We see each other infrequently enough without having to search for each other like we'd have to do in this big place. But I'd feel better if someone were on the grounds during the night. So Kevin is going to take over the carriage house, keep an eye on things when the staff isn't here."

Nell listened and marveled at Mary's ability to wade through the tragedy that occurred on her back porch and think of some one else's needs at the same time. Clearly this wasn't just a business decision. This would help Kevin enormously. He was saving up for expensive classes at the culinary institute--and a rent-free apartment would be a great help.

"When does he move in?"

Nancy answered. "Probably not for a week or so. There's still some work to do in the carriage house. This week has set us back a little."

In many ways
, Nell thought. Murder was more than a setback. It not only ended a life; it changed the lives of those left behind, and Nell suspected they had just begun to count the ways.

"We're all happy you're back writing 'About Town,' " Birdie said. "We missed your column."

"I thought people might think me uncaring to go back to it so soon, but the truth of the matter is that Pamela is dead, and we're not. Life goes on."

"Your column indicates that the murderer is someone who didn't live here?"

"Yes. Pamela didn't have the highest regard for people's lives. She fired people at the drop of a hat."

"But lots of people get fired and they don't . . . " Nell began.

Then she stopped. Mary Pisano was one of the strongest people Nell knew. But she was fragile right now. She had just buried her cousin, and for today, at least, she needed the murderer to be a blank face, someone removed from her life and her town--and most especially from her bed-and-breakfast. There were plenty of reasons to think it was someone right here in Sea Harbor. But for today at least, Mary needed to believe otherwise.

"I think I'll get more hot water for the tea," Nell said, picking up the teapot and changing the subject. "And maybe I can talk Kevin into giving us something from his oven."

Nell left the others discussing the bedrooms and especially Enzo Pisano's master suite--the highlight of which was a massive walnut bed, hand carved and brought over from Italy, piece by piece. "It's Mary's own presidential suite," Nancy declared proudly.

The wide hallway wound past a library with leaded double doors opening out to the back porch. Nell peeked in and vowed to come back to make friends with the wall of books that stretched from floor to ceiling.

Beyond it, the hallway curved to the right, past a small utility room, and the kitchen beyond.

The sound of low voices stopped Nell just before she reached the kitchen door.

"This isn't your house, DeLuca. If you have to smoke, there's the door." It was Kevin, his voice controlled.

"Testy, aren't we, now?" the deep, lazy voice of Troy DeLuca answered.

"I just have trouble with cheats, people who sneak away while on the job. Bill the crew for it."

"Do I detect a little jealousy, Cook?"

Kevin's laugh lacked humor. "Of what? You're a loser, DeLuca.
Over the hill
--wasn't that what she said?"

Nell could almost hear Troy DeLuca's sharp intake of breath. Then silence, broken finally by a spewing of words spit out in anger. "Look who's talking about a loser. We all know what's going on here, Kevey boy. We all know who's the one with nasty little secrets, now, don't we? Pamela told me all about it. . . . "

A heavy silence followed his words.

It was Kevin who finally spoke. "She's dead, gone," Kevin said. "So why are you still hanging around? There's nothing left for you here. You should have been fired long ago."

Nell turned and inched her way back toward the front of the house, anxious to get out of earshot.

She had almost reached the wide doorway to the living room when Troy's words filled the kitchen and the hallway, loud and mean.

"You bet she's dead, Kevey boy. There's justice in this mean world--and you wanted her dead as much as I did. Alleluia. The wicked witch is dead." The words bounced off the walls.

A stomping of feet and slamming of the back door brought stunned silence.

Nell walked into the living room. Mary stared at the floor, as if wishing it would open up and swallow her.

Nancy Hughes' face was as white as snow.

Minutes later, the sound of Troy DeLuca's motorcycle roared down the driveway and onto Ravenswood Road.

Chapter 14

N
ell knew Mary Pisano would be at Coffee's the next morning. On summer days, she commanded her own table beneath the giant maple tree in the corner of Coffee's patio, but winter and north winds brought customers inside to gather around the fireplace and settle into the well-worn chairs and couches scattered about the cozy shop.

It's where Mary wrote her column and where she salved her soul.

The day before, several workmen had descended on Ravenswood-by-the-Sea just minutes after Troy DeLuca made his dramatic exit. Mary and Nancy were called away to decide outlet locations and point out areas that still needed work. It clearly wasn't the time or place to dissect the encounter between the handsome blond painter and Mary's chef. They'd have to talk about that later.

Nell decided sooner was better than later.

She spotted Mary as soon as she walked into the coffee shop. She was alone as usual, dressed in jeans and a bright blue cable-knit sweater, her coat and bag piled on an empty chair next to her.

Nell recognized the wool sweater--Mary had spent all last winter knitting it up. She'd even perfected knitting the cables without the cable needle, something Nell herself had yet to master.

Nell picked up her coffee at the counter and carried it over to Mary's chair. Georgia lay comfortably at her feet, her floppy tail welcoming Nell.

The strain in Mary's usually cheerful face was evident. Her eyes were lowered to the computer on her lap, its screen as black as her hair.

"I thought maybe I'd find you here," Nell said.

Mary looked up and smiled. "They called Kevin down to the station yesterday afternoon," she said.

Nell nodded. Ben had told her as much the night before.

It had been a blessed night at home, and over a glass of wine, a plate of mushroom-curado quesadillas, and Andres Segovia's guitar soothing their tired bones, she and Ben had shared their day. It was an intimacy Nell cherished, a ritual begun in the early days of their marriage. Sharing their days, for better or for worse. It made everything else in life all right.

Ben told Nell that the police had found Pamela's wallet in the utility-room locker where Kevin kept his personal things. That, combined with the fact that he'd made his dislike of her known to the work crew, didn't help his cause.

The police had no motive, but they were checking.

"Ben mentioned the wallet," she said to Mary now.

"Kevin told me he didn't put it there. It's not locked--just a cubby for him to put his things in when he's working. Anyone could have done it. Someone wanted to divert attention from themselves to Kevin."

Nell pulled out a chair across from Mary and sat down.

A ham-and-cheese-stuffed breakfast croissant sat on a small table next to Mary's chair. She offered half of it to Nell, then glared at the pastry, as if chastising it. "A week ago I could eat two of you," she said. Her small laugh was tired. "Nancy is handling the workmen for me," she said. "I need time away. Time alone. It's good to have someone to take over, at least for a bit."

"Of course."

Mary drank her coffee and straightened her back, willing away the tiredness with a stretch. "Kevin Sullivan is a good guy. You know that, Nell. His mother is lovely. His father's a drunken lout, but that's not Kevin's fault. He does all he can to make life easier for his mother. A good son. Kevin wouldn't hurt a flea." Her hands waved in the air for emphasis, and Nell put out a hand to prevent the laptop from toppling onto the floor.

Mary went on. "Never in a million years could he have had anything to do with Pamela's murder, no matter what."

Nell waited. The "no matter what" seemed to be going somewhere.

"No matter that he didn't like my cousin," Mary said with finality. "Kevin was gentle, but he was a good judge of character, and he didn't especially like the way Pamela treated people. He . . . " She shook her head.

"Yes?"

Mary bit down on her bottom lip. Then the expression passed and the muscles in her face relaxed. "Nothing. It's simply that sometimes you know people well enough to know without a smidgen of a doubt what they could or could not be capable of. And no matter what Pamela might have done to Kevin, he'd never have retaliated in a violent way. He just wouldn't."

"So the question is, who did? Do you know what that conversation between Kevin and Troy was about, Mary?"

She slumped back in the chair. "Pamela had insisted on staying in the carriage house while she was here, even though there were enough bedrooms in the main house, and the carriage house still needed work. We thought maybe she had someone coming up from New York or Boston. That wouldn't have surprised anyone. I guess we didn't think that she'd find someone here in town so quickly. It usually took her longer."

"So she and Troy?"

"Yes. I'm sure they were fooling around. Kevin saw Troy headed toward the carriage house a few times when he was on the clock. And another time the crew needed Troy for something, and he was nowhere to be found--nor was Pamela. She missed a few conference calls with our lawyers." Mary shrugged. "I would have fired him, but frankly, Nancy urged me not to. 'It would be hard to find another painter,' she said. 'Let him finish the job and move on.' "

"Do you think the police need to know about this? Could he have . . . ?"
Murdered Pamela
went unspoken. Nell knew the thought had flitted in and out of Izzy's, Birdie's, and Cass' heads, too. But was it simply that they didn't like the man? Or did it have a more legitimate base? They knew that he had a temper--and that Pamela had squashed Troy's model ambitions . . . and his ego--quite soundly.

"I know Troy was here that day at some point. Kevin said he came by while we were meeting."

"What about Kevin?"

"I told him he could leave early because we weren't having a cocktail hour that day. Everyone was going to the Gull instead. Kevin said he'd be back later that night to do the breakfast preparations. And he did come back after he picked his mother up at the retirement home and dropped her off at home. But by then, the police had blocked off the drive and wouldn't let him in."

"Do you know what Troy meant about secrets?"

Mary's eyes locked into Nell's. "Everyone has secrets. You do. I do. Everyone. We keep them to ourselves, for better or worse--which is what makes them secrets. And revealing confidences won't help anything. It only hurts; trust me."

The subject was closed. Mary looked back at her laptop.

Nell didn't agree, but there wasn't any use in pursuing it, at least not right now. Sometimes revealing secrets was necessary, especially when it might reveal why a woman was found dead in a snowbank.

But for now, sleeping dogs would lie. And she would let them.

Nell looked down at the sleeping dog at Mary's feet. Loyalty and trust, she thought. And holding secrets. Just like her master. Sweet Georgia--the one creature who could solve this awful crime in a heartbeat, if only she could reveal what she'd witnessed on the porch that night. If only she could talk.

"I know you have things to do, Mary. I'll leave you in peace. But . . . you'll come to me if you need anything, all right?"

"Of course I will. You and Birdie, Nancy, Izzy, and Cass. All of you. I know you are there for me; I do."

"And I agree with you--Kevin is a good man. The police will realize that, too."

"Hopefully they will, yes. But in the meantime innuendo and gossip can so quickly ruin someone's life." Her eyes flashed and she straightened in the chair, her laptop sliding forward on her knees. "The future of Ravenswood-by-the-Sea is in jeopardy, too. And it will be until that person is found." She bit down on her bottom lip, her brows pulled tight, as if gathering all her strength to hold herself together.

As long as Nell had known Mary Pisano, she was always in control of her emotions. And she'd weathered some sizable storms, including her husband being lost at sea for three long weeks a few years ago. But in all those years, Nell had never seen Mary crumble.

Until today.

"I want my life back, Nell. I want it free of police and awful talk that's turning my grandfather's home into something ugly--and ruining the reputation of a fine young man in the process. Something needs to be done."

Nell leaned over and gave her a hug. When she stood back up, she felt the warmth of Mary's tears on her cheek. She walked slowly to the door.

"Now," Mary called out to her back. "It needs to be stopped. Now."