A Finely Knit Murder (6 page)

Izzy brought out more yarn, and they all reached for some, exploring the textures with fingers that understood a fiber by touch.
Colors were critiqued and the darkest ones set aside as being too difficult to knit on for beginning knitters. Finally they chose several patterns that they’d present to the class—chic scarfs, and fingerless mittens for the girls—and a wild array of winter hats in brilliant colors for the kids in Father Northcutt’s community center program. Happy colors—crimson red, bright yellows, and neon greens—colors they knew would please Daisy and Gabby, who seemed to be calling the shots.

Cass called it a night as they finished storing the yarns and needles in boxes. “This girl needs a good night’s sleep,” she said.

“Too many late nights?” Birdie asked.

Cass didn’t answer. Instead she leaned over and gave Birdie a hug. Then she waved good-bye to Nell and Izzy and slipped out the side door to the alley where she’d parked her pickup truck.

Izzy checked her watch. “It’s still early, but I think we’ve done our duty here tonight.” She looked at Nell and Birdie. “Would you two be up for ice cream? I’m yearning for a double-chocolate cherry sundae.”

In minutes they had locked up the shop and crossed over Harbor Road to Scoopers Ice Cream Shop. They could see before crossing the street that the line inside was short and the shop nearly empty. “A sure sign the summer people have left us,” Nell observed. “We get our ice cream shop back.”

Inside they found one table occupied. Chelsey Mansfield and her daughter, Anna, sat close to each other at a table in the window.

“That looks amazing, Anna,” Birdie said, gazing at the whipped-cream-topped confection sitting in front of the blond-haired youngster.

Anna blushed and lowered her head, continuing to work on the mountain of ice cream in front of her.

Izzy walked over and greeted Chelsey, then looked at Anna. “Did you know your mother was my teacher in law school? She was a wonderful teacher.”

Anna looked at her mother and managed a small smile, then ducked her head away from the attention and back to the ice cream.

“I can hardly remember those years, Isabel,” Chelsey said. “But I do remember how you excelled at everything you put your mind to. I must admit that when I later heard you had given up your spot at that law firm, I didn’t completely understand it.” She was quiet for a moment, her eyes looking over at Anna. When she looked back she smiled slightly. “But in recent years I understand it completely. Totally.”

“I’ve never regretted it. And when I settled in here and opened my little shop, I once again became Izzy—the person I was before tailored suits and fancy offices.”

“Izzy it is, then.”

“So you don’t miss your career? Your life in Boston?” Nell asked Chelsey. She didn’t know her well, but thought that she’d like her if given the opportunity. What she did know was that Chelsey Mansfield had been a respected professor at Harvard Law School and a successful partner in a law firm. But since moving to Sea Harbor a few years before, Barrett Mansfield’s wife had stayed out of the limelight, devoting herself completely to her daughter and the home Barrett had purchased and remodeled near the water.

“Sometimes I miss teaching,” she admitted. “I was close enough in age to the students to understand their problems and career choices a little better than some of the other professors. But I figure I can always pick that up again. And at first, I even missed my practice—although the political posturing was never my thing. Then once we finally had Anna, everything changed, especially our priorities.”

“That happens, for sure,” Izzy said.

Chelsey nodded and looked at her own daughter, now buried in a book, the ice cream in her bowl melting into a brown sea. She reached over absently and touched Anna’s arm.

Anna jumped, surprised, then pulled back and quickly resumed her reading.

“The bustle of Boston no longer suited us. Nor the time our
professional lives consumed. But most important, it wasn’t the best place to raise and educate Anna. She needed some extra help in school—and we had an amazing tutor there—but as Anna grew, we realized that the quieter, less frantic environment Cape Ann offers might be better for her . . . and for Barrett and me, too. It’s a good place for families, as you all know. So here we are. Barrett somehow manages the commute fine and even has time to be involved on the school committee. He’s an amazing man. I don’t know how he does it, but he says it’s worth every mile of the commute to live here—and he’d do anything for Anna. Sea Harbor Community Day School is a godsend. All three of us think so.”

“It’s a good place. My granddaughter loves it, too.”

Anna looked up. “Who’s your granddaughter?”

“Her name is Gabby Marietti. This is her first year at the school.” Birdie looked over at the young girl. “I think she knows you, Anna.”

Anna’s eyes lit up. “Oh, sure, I know Gabby. She’s, like, a year older . . . but sometimes she eats with me. She doesn’t like the cafeteria, just like me. Sometimes we go outside.”

“It’s probably very noisy,” Birdie said, nodding. “If I were there, I’d probably be out on the patio with you.”

Nell and Izzy listened, remembering the story Gabby had shared with them about Anna Mansfield. It was during Gabby’s second week at the school and she and Daisy Danvers had already found each other. One noon they spotted the younger girl sitting at the end of their cafeteria table. She was holding her ears, and tears ran down her face. So the two of them scooted their trays closer toward her, nearly frightening Anna onto the floor. But they’d finally convinced her that they thought it was really loud that day. And did she want to eat outside with them? The fifth graders were allowed to do that, Gabby said, so they took Anna as their “guest.” Once outside, the shy Anna calmed down, wiped her eyes with a napkin, and finished her lunch.

“We got in trouble with the cafeteria lady for bringing Anna
with us,” Gabby had said. “But the headmistress had walked by, and Dr. Hartley was all over it. She said that since Anna was with two fifth-grade girls, eating outside would be okay now and then.”

It was clear Anna’s mother had heard the story, too. And that the headmistress knew and understood Anna’s difficulty in certain situations. Chelsey smiled at Birdie as if she herself had saved her daughter. Then she added, her voice adopting a lawyerly tone as if arguing a case in court, “There’s no one who understands children better than Dr. Hartley. She is that school’s savior, and losing her would destroy so much.”

“Losing her?” Nell asked.

Chelsey glanced at Anna, and then she lowered her voice. “I know that Dr. Hartley’s job is being threatened.”

Birdie waved one hand in the air as if brushing away the irrelevant words. “I don’t think you should worry about it. I’m not the only one who agrees with you that Dr. Hartley is doing a fine job.”

Chelsey listened, but the worry that had come with her words lingered in the fine lines of her forehead. She straightened up, forced a smile, and turned her attention back to Anna as if she might otherwise disappear.

The young man behind the counter hollered that their ice cream was going to melt if they didn’t get with it. So they did, with good-byes to the Mansfields and picking up a stash of napkins along with the tray of sundaes.

They moved outside to one of two small tables in the gravel alley that Myrna Sheridan, Scoopers’ owner, had designated as her patio. Since it bordered a nail salon, she had little opposition, and Scoopers Patio it became.

“A perfect people-watching place,” Izzy said. “We can see the people walking by, but all they see is a dimly lit alley with scary, shadowy figures—”

“Eating ice cream,” Birdie added.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze and listening to the faint strains of a guitar coming out of a small lounge farther
down Harbor Road. The nice weather had brought a larger than usual number of strollers and window shoppers. Across the street, Archie Brandley’s bookstore was still lit up and the door held open, something Archie often did when there were still people walking by or he simply wasn’t ready to go home and welcomed the company a browser would provide.

“Isn’t that Elizabeth?” Nell sat tall in her chair and pointed toward the bookstore.

Beneath the lamplight just outside the shop, the headmistress turned in the doorway and waved good-bye to an unseen Archie. She carried a stack of books and walked to her car, moving around to the driver’s side and carefully skirting a string of moving traffic.

Nell raised an arm to wave her over for a bowl of Scoopers’ finest, but she was suddenly blocked from view by a small yellow convertible—hip high, as Birdie described it later—that pulled up and stopped, so close to Elizabeth that the three women gasped, wondering for a minute if Elizabeth had been hit. But she seemed to be fine, and turned slowly toward the car that now paralleled her own.

Blythe Westerland rested one arm on the leather seat back and leaned toward Elizabeth, her engine idling. In the moonlight, her platinum hair appeared bright and perfect.

She was saying something other than hello, but from their table in the shadows of the alley, her words were lost.

The expression on Elizabeth’s face, however, was clearly visible.

The usually calm and gracious administrator was furious.

She started to turn back to her own car, her arms still clutching the books. It was then that Blythe leaned closer and her words brought Elizabeth’s face once more into view.

At that precise moment, the breeze softened, the traffic stilled, and the music in the nearby bar was silenced.

But Elizabeth’s words were not silent. They traveled at high speed over the hip-high convertible and into the alley where Nell, Izzy, and Birdie leaned forward in their metal chairs.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Elizabeth shouted. The words were coated with ice. Her steely voice grew even louder and colder as she glared back at Blythe. “You can’t get away with this.” She turned, fumbled with the door handle, and finally slid in and sat behind the wheel. In the car next to her, Blythe brushed her hair smoothly back over one shoulder, pushed the gas pedal hard, and sped down Harbor Road, a smile on her face.

“L
aura Danvers must have magical powers. This weather is near perfect.” Nell rolled the window down a crack as she and Ben drove down the long, winding driveway from Birdie’s house. A black sky lit by a harvest moon, a mild breeze that had shifted sometime during the last twelve hours, and enough stars to satisfy the whole town’s wishes.

“Maybe the weather is a good omen. I certainly hope so.”

“You think we need a good omen for a party, Birdie?” Ben stopped at the Harbor Road stop sign and looked back at his white-haired passenger.

“It wouldn’t hurt, now, would it? There’s something not quite right, something in the air that makes me a little jittery.”

“Any idea what it might be?” Ben asked. He picked up speed and drove down the town’s main street, already filling up with Friday night revelers.

“Maybe it’s the incident with Josh Babson,” Nell suggested. “After all, it’s your granddaughter’s school.”

“Elizabeth handled that paint situation well,” Ben said. “I’m sure Jerry Thompson offered advice. It didn’t even make the paper.”

Birdie was silent for a moment and Nell looked over her shoulder. Their eyes met and she knew they shared the same thought: Blythe Westerland hadn’t praised the way Elizabeth handled it. But that was another matter entirely.

“Well, good. It’s nice to have Jerry tuned in to things,” Birdie said. But she shook her head as she spoke, not convinced that the painting episode was the cause of her unrest. She pulled her silvery eyebrows together, searching for an explanation for her emotions. “I suppose it could be stray emotions from that contentious board meeting. Or simply my overactive imagination. Living with a ten-year-old can do that to one.”

Nell thought back to the board meeting. It had left a bad taste in her mouth, too. And then last night’s episode on Harbor Road hadn’t lessened it any. Blythe was an interesting person, but she certainly wasn’t trying to win herself any friends. Not that she seemed to care much about that sort of thing. “Why do you suppose Blythe is so insistent on removing Elizabeth from her job? She has been so vocal at the board meetings.”

“She doesn’t like the changes that are being made to the school, for one thing. That’s her prerogative, I suppose,” Birdie said. “But maybe it’s something else. Something we haven’t been privy to. It does seem a bit extreme. There’s nothing the man can say that pleases her.”

Ben listened to the conversation quietly. Nell looked over at him. “What do you think?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“But you know Blythe, maybe better than we do,” Nell persisted.

“I know her mostly from the yacht club board. She’s a woman of her convictions, opinionated. You have to give her that. And she clearly enjoys being on a board with mostly men, one-upping them when she can. Except—” Ben frowned, remembering something.

“Except?”

“Oh, nothing important. We’re on a membership committee for the sailing club. It’s more a formality than anything else—if anyone wants to join, great. We welcome them. Add their name. Take their dues.” Ben put on his blinker, then turned toward the beach road and the route along the water to the school.

“Your thought seems unfinished,” Nell said. She looked at Ben’s
profile. His window was half-open and a breeze ruffled his hair, blending a few silver strands in with the brown.

“Nope. Not really. I was just remembering that Blythe doesn’t always agree with our open-door policy. It makes me wonder if she brings that exclusiveness to the school board.”

Nell thought about the words she had hurled at Barrett Mansfield after the meeting. “I suppose she does in a way. I don’t know. She’s hard to read sometimes.”

“Maybe she’s just opinionated. That’s not always bad. Hey, look up ahead.” Ben pulled the wheel to the left and rounded Paley’s Cove, bringing the school on the hill into view. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was the Fourth of July.”

To the left, up the gently rising hill, the columned patios, lawn, and lead glass windows of the school glowed against the black sky, shimmering and blinking with hundreds of tiny lights. Lanterns outlined the stone terraces, candles flickered on round white-clothed tables, and soft music floated down the hill, across the winding pathways, all the way down to the edge of the sea. Even the old boathouse was included in the splendid scene, a tiny rope of lights outlining the slanting roof.

Birdie looked over toward the water and laughed. “One might think that old shack was actually attractive.”

“Laura Danvers has outdone herself. She’s turned this whole place into an extravagant movie set.” Nell took it all in as Ben drove slowly up the drive. She waved to several couples walking across the flagstone pathways that crisscrossed the sloping lawn.

“I’d guess some of these folks have never seen the school up close before. It’s a smart thing to do, to welcome the town in like this,” Ben said.

“Very smart,” Birdie agreed. “It’s certainly intentional. Elizabeth wants the town to use the facilities when that’s appropriate—like the auditorium for community theater productions. She’s even thinking of turning the old boathouse into a small theater that groups could use.”

“Wise lady,” Ben said. He pulled his CRV into a parking place at the end of the row. “She’s a capable woman. I like her.”

“And Jerry?” Nell lifted her eyebrows.

“I like him, too.” Ben laughed.

Nell nudged him in the side until he offered a slight grimace.

“Okay, my romantic wife. Sure. Jerry likes her, too. But you knew that.”

Birdie had already gotten out of the car, and Ben leaned over and gave Nell a quick kiss, then reached beyond her and pushed open her door.

Blythe Westerland’s yellow Jaguar was parked across from them, the top up tonight. It was shiny and spotless, as perfect as the woman who had almost clipped Elizabeth Hartley the night before. Ben listened to the anecdote, then brushed it off. “Anyone who owns a car like that is very careful not to hit anyone or anything.”

They walked on, down the row of cars, and spotted Izzy and Sam waiting at the edge of the parking lot.

Birdie quickened her short-legged pace to keep up with Ben as he headed their way. But Nell pulled back, enjoying the lovely sight of her niece and Sam, and allowing her imagination to add its own flourishes: the glowing school in the background, a cascade of brilliant lights outlining the property, and shafts of moonlight falling down on Izzy and Sam as if it had suddenly discovered this extraordinary couple and wanted to spotlight their presence.

It was an amazing sight, even if she were the only one seeing it in quite this dramatic way.

Izzy’s silky blue dress flowed over her body like ocean water. And although Nell couldn’t imagine walking upright in the spike heels she wore, she loved the look—with Izzy’s long, well-toned legs seemingly endless. Just then a rogue breeze lifted the lacy shawl that covered Izzy’s shoulders. It was the shawl Izzy had knit for herself to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the yarn shop. Beautiful hand-dyed sea silk yarn. Designed by Izzy. Knit by Izzy. And now casually thrown across her shoulders with the ease of a
model but the abandon of someone who has no idea how lovely she is.

A stirring inside Nell quickened her pace.
Gratefulness
. It hit her at odd times, sometimes unexpected, like this one. The children she’d always dreamed of having hadn’t happened for Nell and Ben. But
family
had happened, and in a bountiful way. Izzy. Then Izzy and Sam. And now baby Abigail. And friends. Rich layers of friends.

“What’s that look?” Birdie took her arm and smiled up into her face.

Nell smiled back.

Birdie knew.

Ben and Sam left the women standing on the edge of the terrace talking to Father Northcutt, pastor of Our Lady of Safe Seas.

“You’re here to give the blessing?” Nell asked, knowing the kindly priest would be the last one to miss a good party, blessing or not.

Father Larry laughed, his chins moving as he tossed his head back. “I’m here to taste that fine Irish whiskey Laura Danvers promised me she’d be pouring.” His smile lit up and added dozens of creases to his round face. Thin strands of white hair fell haphazardly across his freckled forehead. “But the blessing, Nell, my darlin’. Sure ’n I’ll be doing that, too.”

He moved away then to greet Barrett and Chelsey Mansfield. Since the Mansfields had forsaken Boston and moved into their spacious home down the road from Birdie a couple of years before, Our Lady of Safe Seas’ annex had been given new air-conditioning and a shiny new kitchen. “A good man,” was the priest’s grateful assessment. “A blessing.”

Nell watched the Mansfields greet the priest, then introduce him to a group of well-dressed guests they had brought to the party. It was a distinguished-looking group who probably had deep pockets when it came to good causes—and the Mansfield daughter’s school would fit the category. If he played his cards right, the kindly priest’s charity ventures might benefit as well.

“That man has
sex appeal
,” Izzy whispered, following Nell’s look.

Nell startled. “Father Northcutt?”

Izzy laughed. “Barrett Mansfield. He’s often a hot topic in the shop. He’s quite the dude.”

It was Nell’s turn to laugh. It was nice to know a man could still be a hunk in his mid-fifties. She looked over at Barrett and focused on what Izzy saw. He
was
handsome—and happily married. Had Blythe noticed his looks? She didn’t seem especially fond of the man, at least not recently.

“Chelsey enjoys the attention in her quiet way,” Izzy said. “She knows the man adores her and somehow doesn’t even seem to notice the attention he draws. He used to pick her up after her classes in law school and students would practically attack him. Chelsey found it amusing.” Izzy looked over Nell’s shoulder. “Oh, look—there’s Tommy Porter and Janie.” She waved at one of Sea Harbor’s most popular policemen and the nurse they were all pushing him to propose to.

“All of Sea Harbor turned up tonight,” Nell said. Everywhere she looked, she spotted friends and neighbors, fellow board members, students, and parents. She waved to Elizabeth Hartley, walking up from the shore. She looked every bit the headmistress in a tasteful fitted dress. But tonight she’d added a touch of romance—a lacy scarf the color of the sea that was wrapped around her neck, floating in the breeze. The other touch of romance was less visible—a hand tucked securely into that of the chief of police. For reasons that carried little logic, the sight pleased Nell inordinately.

Gabby raced over with Daisy close behind, both carrying a stack of programs in their arms. She hugged Birdie with her free arm, beaming with a pride that said the entire evening was her doing. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, Nonna? Daisy and I helped Angelo light the lanterns.” She pointed to the brass poles planted in the ground. They wound all the way down to the boathouse, each topped with a faceted lamp, the wick inside burning brightly.

“It’s beautiful. Amazing,” Nell said, looking at the two girls. “As are both of you.”

Gabby blushed and tossed her head, sending her blue-black hair flying. Daisy pushed her glasses up her nose.

Gabby turned to Birdie. “Remember I’m spending the night at Daisy’s, cool?”

“Very cool.” Birdie smiled at Daisy and said, “Your mother said she has a ride to take you both home at nine? If not, I can call my Harold.”

The two girls reluctantly said yes, they had a ride. They’d stay until the very end if they could, but the headmistress had decided the students should leave at nine. From then on it was an adult party.

“But,” Daisy said with determination, “we have plenty of responsibilities between then and now, so I guess we better get with it.” Gabby nodded and the two girls turned, as if on cue, and disappeared into the crowd, pleased with themselves and with life in general as they helped people find their reserved tables—a place to drop shawls or purses—and then directed them to “wander all over the place.”

Birdie’s eyes followed the sway of the lanterns that were planted in the ground, all the way down to the small dock. “There was a time when that dock was three times as large. In the early days of the school, some of the students who lived in the large sea cliff houses or down the shore would come over in boats. Yachts, actually. A parade of them, with young girls in somber uniforms escorted off their boats for a day of learning. The boathouse was a busy place back in those days—and there was more of a beach. Wind and water have taken that away.”

“Did Blythe live in one of those houses?”

Birdie nodded. “I imagine so. The captain had managed to build a whole enclave around here, the school being the largest of his homes. They were passed along to his kin, except for this one.”

“A different kind of life, for sure,” Izzy said. Then added, “I’d
never let Abby take a boat to school.” She spotted Cass standing on the lawn near a circle of chairs. She was listening to the student musicians. Izzy waved until she got her attention and motioned her up to the terrace.

“Did you hear them?” Cass asked as she approached. “Those kids are amazing. That’s Gracie’s cousin on the bass. I used to change her diapers.”

“You’re alone,” Izzy said. “Where’s the guy?”

“The guy’s name is Harry, Iz.
Harry
.”

“Ah,
Harry
. Got it. As in Harry Houdini. Invisible.”

Cass ignored her and spoke to Birdie and Nell. “I had to drop some things off at my ma’s, so he drove over by himself. He’s here somewhere, swallowed up in the crowd. I swear there are a thousand people here—Harry’s probably running into someone he knows from his summers here.”

“So he knows his way around,” Nell said. “Well, that’s good. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Students are conducting tours of the grounds and the school. He may have joined one of the groups,” Birdie said. The school loomed large and glorious against the sky, its lead glass windows lit from within.

Nell looked down at the program. The evening was planned in an unusual way, designed to keep people moving, talking, enjoying the grounds, the food, and the school. Instead of a regular sit-down dinner, there would be a series of different small courses with a school bell indicating when new plates arrived at the tables, luring people back to their chairs. Then off again to mingle or visit the bar or stroll down to the water.