Murder So Sweet (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

Euclid let out a hiss.

Angie didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway. “Hello?” She listened for a few seconds and then bolted up off the sofa with the phone still pressed to her ear. “Okay. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Thanks.” She ended the call. “That was Chief Martin.” Angie let the hand holding the phone fall to her side. “The artwork at the late Mr. Finch’s house…one of the paintings has been stolen.”

“What?!” The three girls howled.

“The chief is coming over in a few minutes to tell Mr. Finch.”

Chapter 11

Angie ushered the chief into the living room where Mr. Finch sat waiting for him. Ellie had been sitting with Finch keeping him company and she stood when Chief Martin entered the room. Angie and Ellie thought it best if the two men spoke in private so they started to walk away, but Finch asked them to remain in the living room with him.

“It would be helpful to me if you listened to what Chief Martin has to tell me. I’d like to be able to talk things over with someone, so I’d like you to hear the details first hand.”

When everyone was settled in their seats, the chief cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to report that your brother’s house was broken into. It seems to have been a purposeful robbery. The largest painting was taken. Nothing else appeared to have been removed from the house.”

“That’s no surprise. That painting was the most valuable.” Finch gripped the top of his cane with both hands.

“The break-in occurred in the last three days. We’ve had patrol cars driving by the house periodically and an officer inspects the outside of the property every other day. This afternoon one of the officers walked around the premises and noticed the back door ajar. He investigated and discovered the painting missing.” The chief let out a long sigh.

Angie asked, “What about the burglar alarm. You set it when we left the house the other day.”

“It had been disarmed.”

“Obviously someone knew the painting was in the house … and that there was an alarm.” Ellie’s forehead was creased.

“That information was never publicized, was it?” Angie looked at the chief. “That the late Mr. Finch had valuable artwork in his house?”

“No.” The chief shook his head. “If that was made known, it would be an open invitation to thieves.”

“Perhaps,” Finch’s voice shook, “my brother’s killer came back and took the painting?”

Chief Martin lifted his hands, the palms up. “That is unknown at this time. It can’t be ruled out, I’m afraid. It’s a possibility.”

Angie glanced at Mr. Finch. His facial muscles were slack and his wrinkles looked more pronounced. The murder and the break-in were taking a toll on him. Her attempt at the muffin “spell” hadn’t done him any good either.

The chief spoke again. “Our concern is about the other paintings in the house. We think they should be removed. I spoke with the bank in town. They don’t have the means to protect or store the artwork. We could keep the paintings at the police station for a short time. My recommendation to you, Mr. Finch, would be to retain an attorney to help you navigate the legal mess of your brother’s estate. An attorney could start the proceedings for you to take over the belongings, the house, the candy store, and any other of your brother’s holdings, and he or she could advise you on how best to protect the remaining paintings. In the meantime, we can remove the artwork to the police station, with your permission, of course. We can hold them there until you make other arrangements.”

Mr. Finch nodded.

“Would you like me to contact the town attorney? Ask him to get in touch with you?” Chief Martin asked. “His name is Jack Ford.”

Angie and Ellie exchanged worried looks at the mention of the lawyer.

“Please do.” Mr. Finch said.

The chief finished up with Mr. Finch and he left the house. Angie and Ellie stayed in the living room in case Finch wanted to talk.

“I’m sorry about the painting,” Ellie said.

Finch tried to force a slight smile. “It was never mine anyway.”

Euclid and the black cat jumped up beside Finch and he patted them absent-mindedly. When the purring started, Finch smiled. “Such a comforting sound. You are both very fine animals.”

“Be careful with your praise, Mr. Finch,” Ellie told him. “It goes straight to Euclid’s head.”

“And, what about the other cat?” He scratched the black cat’s cheek. “Does praise go to her head, as well?”

Angie said, “We don’t know her well enough to say.”

Ellie looked at Angie. “No one answered the ad you placed for her.”

“I guess she is the newest member of your family then.” Mr. Finch looked kindly at the dark feline. “You’ll be needing a name.”

Courtney and Jenna came in and sat with the others. They heard what Finch said.

“Do you have a suggestion?” Jenna asked him.

The older man stroked the cat’s luxurious ebony fur. “What about Circe?”

“What a pretty name.” Courtney smiled. “How did you think of it?”

“It’s from Greek mythology. Circe was the goddess of magic.” Mr. Finch rested his cane against the arm of the sofa.

“I think it’s perfect,” Courtney said.

Euclid sat up and trilled.

Everyone chuckled.

Angie looked over at the orange cat. “I guess you approve, Euclid.”

“Then Circe it is,” Jenna agreed.

***

Angie was up late sitting at the dining room table going over Tom’s estimate for the Victorian’s renovations. She used a pencil to write her questions in the margin of the report. Her sisters had gone to bed over an hour ago. Euclid slept on top of the cabinet. Circe meowed from the hallway. She sat at the door to the den and Angie got up to open it for her. “What’s so great about this den? There are seventeen other rooms you can go into, you know.”

Angie had just returned to her seat at the dining table when she heard soft footsteps on the stairs. Mr. Finch was coming down the steps dressed in his pajamas, robe, and slippers.

“Can’t you sleep, Mr. Finch?” Angie placed the pencil on the table.

“I didn’t think anyone was still up.” Finch took slow steps into the dining room. “I sometimes have trouble falling asleep. The events of the past week haven’t helped in that regard.” He gave Angie a weary smile.

Euclid lifted his head, saw it was Finch, and went back to sleep.

Each night, Ellie left hot water, coffee, juice, and ice water on the side board for the guests. There was a basket of fresh fruit, a hazelnut cake, and a glass domed platter with chocolate-brownie cookies and biscuits.

Mr. Finch poured himself a glass of water. “May I sit here with you?”

“Of course. I’m just reviewing the estimate for the renovations.”

“When will they start working on the house?” Finch sipped his water.

“Not until I have the deed. Probably in a couple of months.”

Finch took another sip, and then placed the glass on the table. He raised his eyes to Angie. There were heavy bags under his eyes which pulled the lower lids down slightly. His pale blue eyes looked watery and a tiny bit red.

His voice was calm when he asked, “Do you want to ask me something?”

Angie was about to dismiss Finch’s idea that she might have a question for him, but she changed her mind and decided not to deny it. The corners of her mouth turned up and she tipped her head to the side. “How do you know that I have a question?”

Finch said simply, “It’s written on your face.”

Angie folded her arms and leaned on the table. “I was at the market this morning. One of the town cab drivers was there. He told me that he picked you up at the train station two days before your brother’s murder.”

“Ah, I see.” He nodded his head slightly. “But what is your question?”

“Were you in Sweet Cove two days before the murder?”

His answer was straight-forward. “Yes.”

“But you told me you had just arrived in town the morning that your brother died.”

“I had.”

Confusion furrowed Angie’s brow. She tipped her head forward keeping eye contact with the older man. She waited for Finch to clarify.

“I arrived in Sweet Cove by train and a cab took me to the resort. I ate lunch there. Then a cab took me to Marblehead where I stayed for two nights.”

“Why did you go to Marblehead?”

“I wasn’t ready to see my brother. I didn’t want to stay in Sweet Cove because I didn’t want to run into him. It took me a couple of days to pluck up my courage.”

“Was that because you hadn’t seen him for such a long time?”

“That, yes. But for other reasons.”

Angie’s mind raced.
Does he mean he needed time to gather the courage to kill his brother?
“Then what happened?”

“I thought I might just leave the area and return to California without making contact with Thaddeus, but then I berated myself for being so foolish. I had come all this way. I made up my mind that I would leave Marblehead and return to Sweet Cove so I called and made the reservations to stay here at the B and B. Then I decided to go to the candy store.”

“Did your brother know you were in town?”

Finch shook his head vigorously. “No.”

Angie said, “And when you arrived at the candy store…?”

“I found out my brother was dead.”

Angie said, “I don’t mean this to sound disrespectful … but it didn’t seem like you were upset.”

“I was shocked. To think, the very day I came to see him, my brother is killed. It’s been fifty years. I didn’t know him anymore. He was someone from my past. I felt sadness, but not grief.”

Angie sighed. It made sense. “Why did you decide to seek out your brother now, after so many years had passed?”

“Because. We’re old.” He touched his index finger to the water glass and traced along the side. “My brother wasn’t a nice person.”

Angie’s eyebrows went up. She was surprised to hear this from Finch. She’d assumed that the candy store owner had soured over time … that some disappointments or upsets had changed who he was, slowly, the way wind and rain wear down the side of a cliff. But here was Finch reporting that his brother hadn’t been a nice person from the very beginning.

“Not only was he not a nice person, he was mean,” Finch said. “He could be cruel. And, selfish.”

Angie’s heart felt heavy.

Finch put his hands in his lap and leaned against the chair back. He was quiet for several moments. Angie thought he must be reflecting on the past.

Finch looked across the table at Angie. “You handed me my cane earlier this afternoon.”

Angie sat up straight. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. “Yes.” Her voice was small as she recalled the vision.

Finch scrutinized Angie, and then seemed to make a decision. “I fell down a staircase, a long time ago. The fall almost killed me.” He glanced at his cane which leaned against the chair next to him. “That’s the reason I use the cane. People think it’s because I’m an old man, but I’ve had to use it for over fifty years.”

Over fifty years.
The same amount of time that Finch had been estranged from his brother. A chill trickled down Angie’s back.

Finch lowered his gaze to his hands. “My brother … Thaddeus … he pushed me down the stairs. He tried to kill me.”

Chapter 12

When Angie realized her mouth was hanging open, she snapped it shut. “He pushed you? It was intentional?”

“Yes.” Finch’s facial muscles drooped and his skin was tinged with a gray pallor as if the blood had drained away.

Angie couldn’t believe this awful news. “Why? Why would he do such a terrible thing? He was your brother.”

Finch looked across the room at nothing. A heaviness seemed to settle over him causing his head to hang forward and his shoulders to sag. At last he spoke. “My brother was a miserable person. I’ve spent a good deal of time reflecting on this. I believe he was born with a nasty temperament and it only got worse with time.”

Circe came into the room from the hallway, crossed to where Finch sat, and leaped onto his lap where she settled.

“Oh,” Finch said. The suddenness of the cat’s action surprised him. He instinctively ran his hand over the soft fur and the feline purred.

Angie thought the cat sensed Finch’s distress and offered comfort by snuggling on his lap. “Mr. Finch,” Angie said gently. “Could I wake my sisters? I’d like them to be part of this conversation. It might give us some details that could help solve the murder.”

“I don’t mind if you do.” His hand slid over the cat’s black fur.

Angie roused the girls from their slumber and the three of them stumbled with sleepy eyes down to the dining room where they gathered around the table. Courtney couldn’t suppress a yawn. She apologized.

Jenna blinked from the bright lights. “Angie told us that your brother pushed you on a staircase. Is it possible it was an accident?”

Finch’s eyes flashed. “It was no accident.”

Ellie pulled her robe around her. “Can you go on with your story, Mr. Finch? Can you tell us what happened?”

Finch gave a slight nod. “Thaddeus and I grew up in Chicago. I was the oldest by three years. He was often in trouble. He caused great turmoil in the house. My father died right after Thaddeus was born. My poor mother had a difficult time trying to raise my brother. I had a job in a factory. Thaddeus couldn’t keep a job because of his temper. I wanted to help him … and to give our mother some peace of mind. She always worried about what would become of Thaddeus, and so I proposed a business deal with him.”

“What sort of deal?” Courtney asked.

Finch said, “When I was in my twenties, our grandmother died. She left me her book of recipes. She’d been a baker and a confectioner in her native Sweden. I enjoyed trying out the recipes and working on them until they tasted like the ones Grandma made. I worked double shifts at the factory to save money to open a bakery and candy shop. When I wasn’t at the factory, I worked on the recipes.”

Jenna said, “You asked your brother to go into business with you?”

Finch nodded. “Thaddeus got into trouble with the police, for breaking and entering. He served a year in jail. I offered to teach him how to bake and make the candy. I told him that when he got out of prison, I would have enough saved to finance a business for the two of us.”