Plaster and Poison (7 page)

From Kate’s B&B to the little hole-in-the-wall deli that makes the best lobster rolls in Maine, I had to go down Main Street, the main drag in Waterfield. It runs from the harbor to the top of the hill, through the historic district, and from there north to Augusta. The street is lined with Victorian commercial buildings, with storefronts and offices on the first floor and storage or lofts above. Derek’s apartment is above the hardware store, and Waterfield Realty, where Melissa James, his ex, is top producer, is just down the street. The annual Victorian Christmas Celebration was due to take place in another week and a half, and many of the merchants were getting their storefronts ready. As I passed Nickerson’s Antiques, the owner, John, knocked on the glass and spread his hands to show me his display.
I had met John a couple of months earlier, when Derek and I were renovating the ranch on Becklea Drive. John’s store focuses mainly on what’s called midcentury modern: 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s stuff. Teak furniture upholstered with Naugahyde, shaggy wall hangings of giraffes and zebras, pictures of big-eyed children in rags clutching kittens and puppies, lava lamps, and bucket chairs. He’d gone with Elvis’s “Blue Christmas” as a theme for the window: There was an old-fashioned turntable on a teak stand, a white tulip chair, an aluminum Christmas tree with blue balls and white lights sitting on a fake sheepskin rug, gifts wrapped in blue and white paper, and a stack of old LPs, while a 1950s ball gown, with an impossibly tiny waist, hung from a wall screen.
The display looked great, even if there was absolutely nothing Victorian about it. I gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up and got a grin in return before I continued down the sidewalk, thinking about the pale blue gown. It was strapless, with a satin bodice embroidered in swirls and a plain satin underskirt with a couple of layers of blue tulle over the top. All it needed was a huge, black flower pinned at the waist, with some seriously sexy, strappy black shoes, black stockings, a black petticoat with a few really stiff layers peeking out from under the skirt, and a half dozen necklaces, and I’d be ready for New Year’s Eve.
I was so involved in my plans for the dress—or one like it, in case I couldn’t afford John’s—that I didn’t watch where I was going. As a result I walked right into someone coming in the opposite direction, loaded down with boxes and bags. Several of the bags scattered, and I babbled apologies as I started gathering them up.
“It’s no problem,” a familiar voice said. “They’re Christmas gifts for the kids. Nothing breakable.”
I looked up into a pair of blue eyes. “Oh. Hi, Jill. I didn’t recognize you.”
“You weren’t looking at me,” Jill Cortino said, with a grin. “You were staring into space and muttering.”
I blushed. It’s a bad habit, and one I don’t seem able to kick. “Sorry. I just saw this really great vintage dress in John Nickerson’s window, and I was thinking of how I could jazz it up for New Year’s Eve. Of course, I’d probably have to put toilet tissue in the bodice to make it fit. . . .”
“The blue one?” Jill asked. I nodded. “At least you’d be able to get into it. I wasn’t that skinny in elementary school.”
“You’ve also had three kids in four years. Cut yourself some slack.” I handed her the last of the bags.
Jill Cortino is a native Waterfielder and a contemporary—and old girlfriend—of Derek’s. They dated in high school, went to prom together—I’d seen a picture—and then Derek went off to medical school and married Melissa, while Jill studied bookkeeping and stayed single. Everyone assumed she was mourning the loss of Derek, but eventually Peter Cortino moved to town, and things went fast after that. They were married just a few months later. It’s been five years now, and they have three children: Peter, Paul, and—no, not Mary—Pamela.
“Where are the kids?” I asked.
“At home, with my mom. Peter’s minding the business while I’m taking time out to do a little shopping.”
The Cortinos run an auto repair and body shop on the other side of downtown. Peter does the repair and body work, Jill does the books, and they’ve got another mechanic or two working for them during the busy season. I don’t think they’re getting rich, any more than Derek and I are, but we’re all getting by.
“We should do dinner sometime,” I said. “Unless you two are too busy these days.”
Jill shook her head. “Business is slow. It always is in the winter. People are driving their beaters.”
“Huh? ”
She smiled. “Haven’t you noticed how some people keep old cars that they drive only during the winter? Beaters.”
She pronounced it
beatahs
, like a native down easterner. She added, “People use them instead of their nice cars because of the salt on the roads and the danger of accidents.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I admitted, “but it’s my first winter here. I don’t even have one car yet, let alone two.”
I do know how to drive, and I have a current driver’s license, but I don’t enjoy it. Especially after driving Derek’s truck off the road and into a ditch a couple of months ago. It wasn’t my fault—someone had punctured the brake cables, and things could have turned out a whole lot worse than they did—but it had been scary. I knew I’d have to get a car eventually, but I was putting it off as long as I could.
Jill nodded. “You’ll see a lot of accidents as the weather gets colder and the road conditions worsen. Especially involving the out-of-towners. The college kids from places like Florida or Arizona have never had to drive on ice or snow before, and they don’t know how to do it. That whole horrible thing with Carolyn Tate last month was only the beginning, I’m afraid.”
“I hear the police are still looking for whoever was responsible,” I said.
Jill nodded. “They’ve been back for the third time to ask whether we’ve worked on anything suspicious. Like we wouldn’t have told them already. They even insisted on going through all our records, as if we’d be lying about it.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure it’s nothing personal,” I said. “They have to ask. And not everyone is as law-abiding as you and Peter.”
“Right.” Jill looked at me for a second before she smiled. “Anyway, we’d love to get together for dinner sometime. I’ll talk to Peter and get in touch, OK?”
I told her I’d look forward to it and went on my way.

6

I’ve never been what you’d call an early bird. Starbucks serves coffee all day, so what’s the hurry? Especially this time of year, when the floor is cold and the thought of having to strip to get into the shower is demoralizing, to say the least. And that was before I moved from New York—cold—to the coast of Maine—colder.
Even with all that, I beat Derek to the B&B the next morning. It was the anticipation of seeing my mom later that did it, I guess. I was knocking on Kate’s kitchen door before eight o’clock: washed, brushed, and raring to go.
Kate was sitting at the table nursing a cup of steaming brew, looking like she hadn’t wanted to get up this morning.
“You OK? ” I said sympathetically.
She managed a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine. There’s coffee in the pot.”
“Thanks.” I walked over and poured myself a cup. “I looked for you yesterday afternoon, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I was trying to track down Shannon.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder. “And did you?”
“Afraid not. Although I did give her”—her teeth closed with a snap—“
companion
a piece of my mind.”
I returned to the table to sit across from her. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“It wasn’t pretty,” Kate said.
I wanted to push for details, but aside from the fact that they weren’t any of my business, she didn’t look like she was in a mood to share. “Well, you look like you didn’t sleep much.”
Kate shook her head. “Wayne didn’t come home ’til around one. He’s still asleep.”
“I see.” Maybe Wayne’s arrival was the reason she looked so beat. If he had woken her up and one thing had led to another, say. Some of my worry lifted, and I smiled.
Kate sent me a sour look but didn’t comment. “So your mom and stepdad are coming later today, right?”
I nodded. “I can’t wait. My mom’s great. You’ll love her. We lived together until just a couple of years ago, when she moved to California. Weird, I know, for a daughter to live with her mother that long, but we get along really well, and she had a rent-controlled apartment in a really good location, and I wasn’t making that much money, and . . .”
“You don’t have to explain,” Kate said, looking a little better for the change of subject. “I’m sure your mom is lovely. I’m looking forward to meeting her. And your stepfather works in television, right?”
“Right. Producer or something. Something behind the scenes.”
“I guess you don’t know him that well, do you? If he’s always lived in California and you’ve always lived in New York?”
I shook my head. “He met my mom three or four years ago. Online, of all places. They hit it off, and whenever he had business in New York, they’d have dinner together. I met him two or three times before he proposed. He actually asked my permission beforehand!”
“Did he really?” Kate smiled. “That’s sweet.”
“Isn’t it? He took me to lunch and showed me the ring and asked me for my mother’s hand in marriage. She quit her job the next day and flew to California with him. They got married three months later. On the beach.”
“That’s wonderful,” Kate said warmly.
“I know. What about your family? You never talk about them.” I realized, too late, that maybe there was a good reason for that.
Her face closed up. “We had a falling out after Shannon was born. Irish Catholic family, political aspirations, child out of wedlock, all those things. So I don’t have much contact with them anymore. My grandmother was the only one who stayed in touch, and she died last spring.” She shrugged.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t even imagine having my mother cut me out of her life, and certainly not for something like getting pregnant. Surely these days, and even twenty years ago, that wasn’t such a big deal? “Derek mentioned that your grandmother had died recently. Has your family never met Shannon, then?”
“They have. A few times. Not very often since we moved up here, though.”
I hesitated. “Do you miss them?”
“It’s been twenty years,” Kate said with a shrug. “And it’s their loss. They’re the ones who missed seeing Shannon grow up.”
I nodded. She didn’t seem upset, but it was still a relief to hear the sound of tires crunching on the snow in the driveway. Kate glanced out the window, her expression wary for a second before it smoothed out. “Here’s Derek. Bright and early, as usual.”
The truck’s engine shut off, and a door opened and closed. After a moment, the kitchen door opened and Derek stuck his head in.
“Kate . . . oh, hi, Avery.”
I smiled. After six months, I should be used to Derek, but sometimes, when he shows up unexpectedly—or even when I know he’s coming, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, like, overnight—I get giddy. Some of it may have been nervousness about having to introduce him to my mom and Noel later on, but some of it was just seeing him, too. Knowing that that melting smile was for me and the way those blue eyes warmed was because he was happy to see me.
The proprieties dispensed with, he glanced at the coffeemaker. “Anything left in there?”
“Help yourself.”
He opened the cabinet, found a mug, filled it, and sat down at the table, where he nudged my foot. “You’re up early.”
“I’m excited.”
“Did your mom and dad call last night? Did they get in OK?”
I nodded. “The flight from Santa Barbara was delayed about an hour, and then the flight from San Francisco was delayed some more, but they got to Boston and checked into their hotel. This morning, they’ll be having breakfast, and then they’ll be picking up their car and hitting the road. She said they’d be here by lunchtime.”
“We’d better get busy, then.” He drained the coffee in a couple of gulps and reached for my chair. “C’mon, Tink.”
“Coming.” I gathered my and Derek’s mugs and carried them over to the counter.
“We’ll see you later, Kate.” He guided me toward the door, snagging my coat from the hook on the way. “Here. Put this on. It’s nippy today.”
“No kidding,” I said, the words making a cloud in front of my face as we entered the frigid air.
“It’ll get worse before it gets better. Get used to it.”
But he put his arm around me again and hugged me closer. I snuggled in, greedily grasping any warmth I could get.
It didn’t last long, unfortunately. Upon reaching the carriage house, Derek dropped his arm from around me to fumble for the key under the eave. “Jill called last night,” he said over his shoulder. “You two talked about getting together for dinner?”
“We touched on it. But it’s probably not the best timing, with Mom and Noel coming. I wasn’t thinking about that when I suggested it.”
“Your mom and her husband might want some time to themselves one night,” Derek said, “and we could try to get with Jill and Peter then. She sounded like she could use some cheering up.”
I hugged myself, stomping my feet. This was taking a long time. “She did mention that business was slow. I think this whole thing with Carolyn Tate and the police coming around asking the same questions over and over is bothering her, too.”
“I think she knew Carolyn,” Derek answered. “She was a lot older than Jill, but I think they went to Barnham together. Carolyn raised her kids first, and then went back to school and got an education.” He lowered his arm. “The key isn’t there.”
“Maybe it fell.”
We both crouched and started peering around the stoop. It was Derek who put out a hand to brace himself against the door, and who toppled sideways when the door opened. I giggled, and then tried to stop, unsuccessfully, when he gave me a sour look.
“Someone’s been here.” He got to his feet.
“Unless you forgot to lock up last night?” I suggested.
“I have two grand worth of marble sitting here, Avery, not to mention a small fortune in tools and copper pipes. I’m not gonna forget to lock up. You watched me, didn’t you?”
“Um . . .” I said. The truth was, I had stood there, and I had watched, but as usual when Derek had his back to me, I’d been too busy admiring the fit of his jeans to notice much of anything else.
“You’re hopeless,” Derek said, but with a grin; he knew exactly why I hadn’t been paying attention. “C’mon. Let’s make sure nothing’s missing.”
He pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold. I followed, fumbling for his hand.
From just inside the door, everything seemed fine, just as it should be. We could see the edge of the marble counter, so at least no one had walked off with that. Derek’s tools were where he had left them—an electric drill over in the corner, a bunch of wrenches and screwdrivers strewn about.
I’d never realized it before I started hanging out with Derek, but houses under renovation are like magnets for burglars and thieves. They’re empty overnight, usually pretty easy to break into because people don’t bother with security systems and dogs when the houses aren’t occupied, and often they’re chock full of expensive tools and materials. Like the two-thousand-dollar slab of marble Derek and the other guys had hauled inside last night. Also copper pipes, electric drills, nails, screws, drywall, and rolls of electrical wire. All stuff that can be turned into cold, hard cash by someone with an entrepreneurial spirit.
“Can’t see anything out of the way,” Derek remarked, scanning the room.
I shook my head. “Are you sure you didn’t just forget to turn the key last night? Too busy wiggling your tush at me, or something?”
He gave me a look. “I never wiggle my tush. And even if I forgot to turn the key, I know I hung it on the hook. Someone was here.”
“Maybe we should drag Wayne out of bed, instead of investigating ourselves. Kate said he was still asleep.”
“I’m not afraid,” Derek said, squaring his shoulders.
“Well, of course you’re not. I’m not afraid, either”—precisely—“but if there was a burglar here, don’t you think the best people to investigate are the police? We don’t want to mess up any of their evidence.”
“I think we need to determine whether there’s anything to investigate first,” Derek said stubbornly.
I sighed. “Fine. After you.”
He glanced at me but led the way farther into the house. I followed, looking around nervously.
Nothing seemed out of place on the first floor, and nothing was there that shouldn’t be, either. No sinister footprints across the brown paper that crisscrossed the new hardwood floors, and no conveniently dropped business card with our burglar’s name and telephone number. No monogrammed handkerchief or telltale cigarette butt.
“Upstairs,” Derek said after we’d made the circuit through living room, dining room, and kitchen, with a peek into the bathroom and laundry closet on our way past.
He started up. I sighed but followed.
The loft was less finished than the downstairs. The drywall was up and the bathroom roughed in, but we hadn’t installed Kate’s fluffy carpet yet. Kate had requested a light cream, almost white, deep-pile floor covering, and just in case one of us happened to spill a drop of paint or the new toilet overflowed or something, we’d decided it would be safer to leave the installation of the carpet ’til last. So the floors upstairs were lowly plywood. When I got to the top of the stairs, I couldn’t help but be grateful that we’d chosen to wait.
“Shit,” Derek said softly, stopping on the second-to-top step. “Looks like we need to get Wayne out of bed after all.”
“Why?” I peered around him. “Oh, no. Who’s that?” A man’s figure was lying on the floor, with an elegant cashmere overcoat covering the still form from calves to shoulders. I could see a dark head and a pair of wool trousers sticking out at their respective ends.
Derek didn’t move. “I think it’s that guy Shannon’s been hanging out with.”
“You’re kidding. What’s he doing here? If she wanted him to sleep over, don’t you think she ought to have had him stay in the house and not out here? Are you going to wake him?”
“I think he’s beyond waking,” Derek said, his voice a little uneven.
“He’s dead?”
Derek glanced at me. “Looks that way. Whoa.”
He reached out to steady me.
“Sorry,” I managed, my voice tinny and far away. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve seen worse than this before. There’s not even any blood.”
“It’s all right.” He half carried, half steadied me down the stairs. “Just sit right here while I go see if there’s anything I can do. Just in case I’m wrong and he’s just drugged or unconscious. Keep your head down.”
He deposited me on the bottom step of the staircase and pushed my head down between my knees before he ran back up the stairs, two or three steps at a time. A minute later, he came back down. “He’s beyond anything I can do for him. Are you OK sitting here for another couple of minutes? I need to go get Wayne.”
I nodded, concentrating on taking deep, even breaths. “I’ll be fine. The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll come back. Go.”
Derek gave me another measured look, no doubt checking for signs of shock or incipient breakdown, then nodded and turned on his heel. When he glanced at me over his shoulder before going out the door, I waved a shaky hand. He waved back before ducking out the door and running hell for leather for the B&B.
It was a lonely and scary few minutes before he came back. I made the time pass by telling myself over and over again that this was nothing; that I’d seen much worse before.
Wonder what he’s doing here
, my treacherous mind whispered in my inner ear. Had he come to meet Shannon? Or had Kate tracked him down and asked him to come over for a chat? She had mentioned giving Shannon’s companion a piece of her mind.
But if so, why hadn’t she met him inside the B&B instead of out here? Besides, she was a law-abiding citizen; if he’d had a heart attack or something while they’d been discussing things, Kate wouldn’t just have left him here for us to find. She would have called 911 or Wayne or both.
So maybe he’d made his own way into the carriage house and was waiting for Shannon to come home. To tell her that Kate had contacted him, perhaps. Maybe Shannon was avoiding him, and this was his attempt to corner her for a talk. If he’d been waiting a while, maybe he had lain down for a rest; it would explain the neat way the coat was spread over him. And then he had died. Quietly, in his sleep, since I’d seen no sign of a struggle or upheaval. Poor guy.
And the best thing was that he hadn’t been murdered like the other dead people I’d come upon since I’d moved to Waterfield. That made it a little easier.
When the front door opened, I jumped and stared at the two men like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.
“Everything OK?” Derek said, scanning my face.
I nodded, catching my breath. “Fine.”
“You look better. Not so much like you’re gonna pass out anymore. There’s some color in your cheeks again.”