Patterns in the Sand (29 page)

 

 

Nell felt slightly guilty. There was such turmoil right now—but being together might be the best thing in the world. And the lobsters wouldn’t wait for the weekend—that was certain. Who knew? By week’s end there might be only pregnant lobsters down on the bottom of the lobster floor, and Cass would have to toss them all back.

 

 

It was a surprise that everyone was free—Jane and Ham, Izzy and Birdie. Willow and Brendan. But Nell suspected the need to be together and talk—and the chance to see Sam’s new home—would cancel other plans in a heartbeat, even if people had other plans.

 

 

A call to Ben assured Nell he’d get there early to dig the hole and start the fire.

 

 

Nell checked her watch. This plan put a rush on other things she needed to get done today. Not the least of which was to check on Natalie and make a quick visit to Canary Cove.

 

 

Natalie was not alone when Nell arrived. She sat in the middle of the living room, her eyes glassy and an untouched sandwich in front of her.

 

 

“I just wanted to check on you, to be sure you’re all right, Natalie.”

 

 

Natalie excused herself from the busy group of women—members of the Altar Guild sent over by Father Northcutt, Nell suspected. She followed Natalie into the kitchen.

 

 

“My Billy may have been murdered.” Natalie sat on a wrought-iron stool and pulled a Kleenex box from the center of the island. “I could have murdered him plenty of times—sure—but only in my mind. I loved him. Who did this to me?”

 

 

“That’s what we need to find out.” Nell pulled out the other stool and sat on it, her sandals resting on the bar.

 

 

“He couldn’t swim. My Billy lived on the ocean—and he couldn’t swim a single stroke. I signed him up for lessons at the Y over in Gloucester, and you know what he did?” A hollow laugh escaped Natalie’s red lips. “Well, he didn’t go swimming is all I’ll say.”

 

 

Natalie’s pencil-thin eyebrows lifted, and Nell could see that the memory brought tears close to the surface.

 

 

Sometimes, Natalie said, if Billy could explain the time away, he’d travel down to Foxwoods. And when Natalie questioned why the short drive to Gloucester took him away for a whole day, Billy changed plans and put together a fine poker group that met in the back of a mechanic’s shop in Gloucester once a week, during swimming lesson time. It was his own little version of
Guys and Dolls
, Natalie said with a sad smile.

 

 

Nell smiled, too. And it was just as likely that the money he won at his “swimming lessons” was lent to someone who needed it more than he did. Billy did things like that.

 

 

“The feud between Billy and Aidan Peabody is such a mystery to all of us—do you know what it was all about?”

 

 

Natalie waved her hand in the air as if the question was old and used up. “That was business stuff, nothing to worry about. That’s what Billy told me when I would ask him.”

 

 

“He hadn’t always disliked Aidan, had he?”

 

 

“Billy disliked people who got in his way. And he was worried the last few months about business. So he was more irritable, and Aiden sometimes made it harder to do business.”

 

 

“I think there might be a connection in their deaths. To have two Canary Cove people, both important members of the art community, die within two weeks of each other—that’s just a coincidence I can’t buy.”

 

 

Natalie sighed. “Look at that Willow person closely—I know she’s your friend. But we know she had a reason to kill Aidan. And she was hanging around Billy’s shop, too.”

 

 

“Oh?”

 

 

“Billy told me that himself. At first, before Aidan died, she was asking a lot of questions about the Fishtail Gallery. And then after Aidan died, I don’t know, but she’d come in while I was there, just looking around. She never bought anything.”

 

 

Brendan,
Nell thought. That was probably why she was in Billy’s shop.

 

 

“Was Billy’s business okay?”

 

 

“Billy was sometimes too generous. You know what I mean? He gave money to every Tom, Dick, and Harry. So I insisted that I take over all money. All bank accounts. I brought a little money to the marriage, too, you know, and I didn’t want Billy giving that away. Besides, we had expenses, the house, other things. And I am very good at keeping dollars straight. I have a gift for that.”

 

 

“Will you sell the gallery?”

 

 

“I’m not making those kinds of decisions today. But, Nell, you know and I know that I don’t know about art. Money, yes. Art, not so much.”

 

 

“Well, whatever you decide, Ben and I will help, Natalie. You won’t have to do it alone.”

 

 

Natalie reached out and patted Nell’s hand. “You’re a good lady. I know you will help. The Brewsters have promised, and even the Marks gals. And that sweet Brendan—Billy liked him so much.”

 

 

Nell wasn’t surprised at the list of offers Natalie had already received. Of course they’d all help. Ben would do any paperwork, and they were all up to packing boxes and arranging shipments and cleaning. And there’d be more people, too, once the need was there.

 

 

“I know you have people who want to see you, so I will be off.” Nell scribbled her phone number on a pad of paper and slid it across the island. “You’ll call me with the slightest need.”

 

 

 

 

 

Without clear intent, Nell followed the curve in Harbor Road that Merry Jackson had made earlier that day, and drove around the bend of ocean into Canary Cove.

 

 

Canary Road was busy with people, eating ice-cream cones or carrying bottles of water, their sunglasses reflecting the blue sky. Some carried bulky bags with names of a gallery printed along the outside.

 

 

It was a typical summer day.

 

 

And not typical at all.

 

 

Nell pulled into the Artist’s Palate parking lot and saw Merry standing just outside the restaurant, chatting with a group of young friends. She waved until Merry saw her, then excused herself and walked over to Nell’s car.

 

 

“Like my new wheels, Nell?”

 

 

“It’s a beautiful car, Merry.”

 

 

“I got it up to eighty along the old highway.”

 

 

Nell cringed.

 

 

“So what brings you over here in the middle of the afternoon? Would you like a beer?”

 

 

“No, thanks. I was thinking of what you said the other night when we came by looking for Billy.”

 

 

“Jeez, that’s awful about Billy. Who would want to kill him? Natalie didn’t like it here much, I don’t think. She never quite got in the groove of Canary Cove. But there’d be an easier way to leave than killing her husband.”

 

 

“I would think.”

 

 

“Ellen is upset. She was here earlier today. She was going to walk down to the dock. She had a flower to throw in the water. I didn’t want her to go alone, so I walked along with her. It was still pretty muddy down there from the rain. We couldn’t see any footsteps, though we couldn’t really get on the dock. They still had it ribboned off. I guess they’ll finally fix it now. Ellen and Billy were real buddies, even though Rebecca didn’t like him much.”

 

 

“Billy was helpful to them.”

 

 

Merry nodded agreement. “He would do things like that. He was a good guy when he liked someone.”

 

 

“What I really wanted to ask you about was Sunday night when we came looking for Billy.”

 

 

“In the middle of that downpour. I remember. I was anxious to get home to see if we had electricity.”

 

 

“Hank mentioned that when you saw Billy that night, you didn’t think he was alone.”

 

 

“Right, when he was leaving. Hank thought I was crazy but that’s because he doesn’t see nearly as well as I do. I swear he needs glasses. He’s forty, for Pete’s sake.”

 

 

“He probably does,” Nell said. “It’s a good thing he has you.”

 

 

Merry nodded. Her long, shiny hair fell over her shoulders, and she brushed it back with one hand. “Billy was alone when he came in. And upset, like he had to do something awful—you know what I mean? I tried to get him to talk to me because he looked so darn upset. But you know Billy. He doesn’t want anyone to think he’s needy. So he clammed up totally. I could see his reflection in the bar window, looking out toward the parking lot every few minutes, like he was expecting someone. Drumming his fingers on the bar. Checking his watch. And he was cursing the rain something awful.

 

 

“So I told him to relax, the rain would stop. No need to build an ark. He wouldn’t even laugh, just kept sitting there, the only one in the whole restaurant. Then the lights went out, and Hank came in and said Billy had to leave, that we were heading home. Without saying a word, he took the whole bottle of bourbon he’d been nursing, walked out the door and across the parking lot to where he’d left his Harley.”

 

 

“But the parking lot was dark?”

 

 

“Dark as sin. But there was still a string of lights on across the harbor, and a couple of cars going by. And I could see him moving toward his bike. I moved over to the window, and I swear there was someone standing there beside the bike, waiting for him.”

 

 

“Do you have any idea who it was?”

 

 

She shook her head. “I wish I did. Hank doesn’t believe me. ‘Who’d be out in that crappy weather?’ he said. ‘Well, Billy was,’ I told him.”

 

 

Nell smiled in spite of the serious topic. Merry was unpredictable, but there was something innately sweet about her.

 

 

“Hank was a little worried about Billy leaving with that full bottle of liquor—though by then it was only half full, so when we got ready to leave, he took his humongous flashlight and looked around the lot, but he was gone. The bike was gone. The lot was empty. But I’d swear on my wedding ring that when he left, he wasn’t alone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

 

N
ell wanted to stop in to see Rebecca and Ellen, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. The least she could do for the clambake was pick up dessert—and she was already late.

 

 

The Marks women had already left the Sobel house the night before, before Chief Thompson came in with more disturbing news. But they would know about it. Nell was certain that by now the entire town was aware that Billy Sobel’s death might well be a murder—the second in as many weeks.

 

 

She slowed down as she passed the handblown glass studio. Rebecca’s lamp-blown beads were hanging in the window from clear fish line, stunning pieces of glass in many shapes and colors floating in the air. They were magical.

 

 

Rebecca was standing not far inside the window, talking to a customer. She looked lovely, as always, her silky hair floating around her shoulders, her back straight, her shoulders tan and lovely.

 

 

But her appearance hid an ambiguity that Nell found discomforting. She never walked away from a conversation with Rebecca Marks feeling as if she knew her any better. And her comments about Aidan and their relationship in recent days had been equally perplexing.

 

 

When Nell shared them with Ben, he had agreed. It reminded him, he said, of a girl he hung out with in high school. They had a standing agreement that if neither had a date for the annual prom, they’d go with each other. It was convenient, he had said.

 

 

But there were no adult proms in Sea Harbor—and Aidan Peabody never had trouble getting a date. He didn’t need the convenience of Rebecca Marks.

 

 

And Rebecca seemed to hold Billy Sobel at a distance, too, almost as if she were afraid of him. She was certainly an intriguing mix—showy self-confidence but mixed in with fear. Uncomfortable, at the least.

 

 

A few weeks ago, such encounters and conversations would probably have passed by Nell without a second thought. But with her friend Aidan dead and buried, with Billy’s body in some coroner’s cold, impersonal room—and with a murderer still free—even odd conversations took on ominous overtones.

 

 

Nell turned her attention back to the winding Canary Road, gradually picking up speed. She drove around the graceful bend of land bordering the ocean. It was one of her favorite spots in Sea Harbor, with the sea grass growing wild and free along the narrow road and the sounds of horns in the distance, rolling in like fog from incoming fishing vessels. She smiled, in spite of her troubled mood, and headed toward Harbor Road, Harry Garozzo’s deli, and comfort food. A key lime pie would be just the thing to top off an evening on the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

Ben had gone hours earlier to Sam’s new beach house, driving out with Birdie and an SUV full of food: rolls, cheeses, potatoes, and cobs of fresh corn from the market. Cass and Izzy had met them there with bulging plastic sacks of cherry stone clams and a cooler filled with lobsters, which had been swimming in the ocean just hours before.

 

 

By the time Nell arrived, the bulk of the work was done. Sam had dug the hole earlier in the day and lined it with large rocks collected from above the tide line. When Ben arrived, they all walked the beach—Ben and Sam, Birdie, Cass, and Izzy—filling tubs full of rockweed. When the rocks were hot enough to spit a drop of water back at them, they all scooped up handfuls of the wet seaweed and coated the pit thickly.

 

 

The sizzling smell of the fire and familiar popping of the seaweed greeted Nell as she pulled her car off the beach road and into the gravel drive of Sam’s new home.