A Murder in Mohair (13 page)

Edie pulled her close against her pillowy body and patted her head. “I know. I know . . . It's a shock for you, honey. Just like that. Out of the blue,” she said simply.

Nora nodded into her aunt's shoulder and slowly pulled away. Edie handed her a wad of napkins and she wiped her eyes.

“I'm sorry to make a scene here, Aunt Edie. I tried to call you but . . . I just can't believe it. I just saw her last night. Who could have done such a horrible thing to poor Cassandra? She was the kindest, most beautiful soul. . . .”

Lucy glanced at Maggie. A kind, beautiful soul? That was not the impression anyone in Lucy's circle had come away with. But Cassandra and Nora did share a special, deeper bond. One of codependence and exploitation, according to Edie.

But to Nora, their bond was clearly much more elevated than that.

Edie sighed, holding Nora's shoulders. She stared into her niece's eyes, trying to hold her attention. “I know it's hard for you. But you have to think of Dale now . . . and Richard. They both need you. We all need you. Please try to be strong.”

Nora nodded. “I know.”

Richard walked in the diner, looking relieved at the sight of his wife. “There you are . . . I didn't know where you'd gone.” He glanced at Edie. “She scared me,” he confessed.

“She's had a shock. But she's going to be all right. In time,” Edie insisted.

She more or less transferred Nora to Richard's hold. He wound his arm around his wife's shoulder to take over comforting her, maybe even to keep her standing upright, Lucy realized. Nora looked dazed and unsteady on her feet.

“I've called Dr. Plesser. She can see you this afternoon. We'll close the shop and I'll drive you over.”

Nora glanced at him and nodded. “All right. I guess I should see her. Though it won't be the same as talking to . . .”

She swallowed hard and shook her head, unable to say Cassandra's name, Lucy guessed.

“Of course not. But try not to think about that now, Nora,” Richard said, coaxing her.

“I just feel so tired. I want to sleep,” Nora murmured, almost talking to herself now.

Nora's son, wearing his busboy uniform, rushed up to his parents. “Mom, are you okay? Maybe I should get you a glass of water. Why don't you sit down?”

Dale looked frightened, Lucy thought. He'd gone through so much with the loss of his brother. A family crisis that was still not entirely passed. Lucy was sure he felt afraid that the drama was welling up all over again.

Nora touched his cheek. “I'm all right, Dale. Don't worry. I'm just sad,” she said. She glanced at Richard. “I guess I'd like to go home and rest.”

“Yes, of course. I'll take you home right now.”

“I'll come by later to check on you, dear,” Edie said to Nora as Richard led her away. “Call the doctor again, maybe she needs some pills,” she added quietly, to Richard.

“Don't worry, I'll take good care of her,” he promised, opening the heavy glass door to let Nora pass through.

Edie watched a moment then sighed. She turned back to Maggie and Lucy. “I've got to admit, I didn't think much of Richard when they first got together, way back when. I didn't think he was good enough for Nora. She could have her pick. But he's turned out to be a peach. He sticks by his wife, thick or thin. I'll say for that him.”

Lucy nodded, biting down on her lip without realizing it. Maggie glanced at her, then back at Edie. Lucy had the feeling that Maggie felt burdened now, too, by the compromising sighting of Richard at Cassandra's house.

“We'd better go, too. If you need anything or just want to stop by and knit awhile, you know where to find me.” Maggie gently patted Edie's arm as she passed by.

“I'll do that. And thank you, ladies,” Edie added in an unusually meek tone, “for letting me vent. I know you won't tell Nora what I really thought of her idol, will you?”

“Of course not,” Maggie assured her.

Lucy did not reply, her agreement understood. She smiled at Edie, then led the way to the door.

But even though Nora might never know how her aunt felt about Cassandra Waters, the police soon would. Lucy was fairly certain of that.

Then again, just as Edie had pointed out, there were probably many in Plum Harbor who held the same low opinion of Cassandra. If her killer was among her clients, the police would be working overtime to sift through the long list of possible suspects.

Lucy walked Maggie back to the shop and grabbed her bike.

With no customers in sight, Maggie lingered on the sidewalk. “Nora is taking it hard. Edie has good reason to be concerned,” she said.

“Yes, she does,” Lucy said. “Nora really depended on Cassandra.” Lucy had not realized just how much until this morning. “She was Nora's lifeline. I didn't feel one way or the other about Cassandra, though I certainly didn't trust her. But even if she was a faker, maybe she did consider her profession a form of therapy for people like Nora. Or even entertainment, for customers like us? It's still awful that she was killed. She was so young. I think it's very sad.”

“I feel bad, too. No matter what you thought of her—a phony baloney, or the real thing—no one should meet their end in such a violent way. I hope Cassandra's spirit is at peace,” Maggie said sincerely.

Lucy felt the same. She adjusted the strap on her helmet, then looked back at Maggie. “I have to admit, it was hard to watch Richard and Nora. I feel even worse about seeing him at Cassandra's house the other night. It makes me feel so . . . responsible. As if I know this big secret. When the visit could have been perfectly innocent. My brain isn't set to ‘auto-smear' like some people we know,” she added quickly, meaning Suzanne. “But what if he
had
been fooling around with Cassandra? I don't think Nora would be able to stand that. She's already so fragile. I definitely don't want to be the one to topple their entire marriage. It looks like a balancing act already.”

Maggie nodded, her gaze sympathetic. “I don't envy you. You're in a tough spot. But I do know it will do no good for anyone if you withhold this from the police. You have to trust that they won't damage the Gordons' marriage unnecessarily. If he was being unfaithful to Nora, well . . . it certainly isn't your fault. You can't worry about protecting him. Or Nora. We have to give the police their best shot at catching Cassandra's killer.”

“Yes, I know.” Lucy set her helmet squarely on her head and closed the clip under her chin, then glanced at Maggie with a small smile. “But can I ask you something totally random? When you and Charles went sailing last weekend, did he offer you any cold beverages . . . that looked like Kool-Aid?”

Maggie looked confused a moment, then smiled and tapped Lucy's helmet with her knuckles. “No, he did not. And that was pretty fresh,
Queenie
.”

“Just sayin'.” Lucy shrugged and swung up on the bike, pausing to wave goodbye as she pedaled away.

Secretly, Lucy was sure that her good friend had been as surprised as anyone to hear herself touting the official line about cooperating with the police, “letting them do their job . . . blah-blah-blah . . .”

Jimmy Hubbard was one thing, poor fellow. No one had known him very well, and his death, though violent and a bit of a shock around town, had not been all that interesting. Most likely it was just what it appeared to be, a robbery that had gotten out of hand. Even the local newspaper and TV stations grew bored with the event very quickly.

But Cassandra Waters, a professed psychic, whom they had met with only days ago and who had been such an important figure in the lives of people they knew well . . .

That was another box of crackers entirely, as Edie might say.

Not taking anything away from Maggie's powers of self-discipline, Lucy doubted Maggie would be able to keep her promise and avoid poking around in this investigation.

Lucy hoped so, anyway. She and the rest of her friends had no such scruples and she knew it would be hard to avoid speculating and even sniffing around the Internet.

In fact, once she got back in her office, she decided to do an online search on Cassandra and see what came up. The inspiration gave her a sudden jolt of energy as she pedaled hard to climb back up the dreaded hill on Main Street.

No pain, no gain, she reminded herself.

M
aggie had expected to hear from Charles at some point in the day, but his visit to the shop surprised her. It wasn't even lunchtime, though it might have been for him, she realized. He sometimes started a shift at 6 a.m.

She was standing by the counter and met his gaze as he walked in. He looked around, concerned about interrupting her with customers. He was very considerate that way.

“The coast is clear,” she said with a smile. “There was a class this morning but they're all gone and it's too nice outside for much traffic today, I think.”

“I guess that's to be expected, when you've got sort of a seasonal business?”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Unlike your line of work. Now the police have two murders to investigate.”

“You heard about Cassandra Waters.”

Maggie shrugged. “It was all over town by nine this morning. Suzanne happened to be on Ivy Street and saw the police cars and even spoke to the neighbors.”

“So you know the full story already. As usual,” he teased her.

“I wouldn't call it the full story. But a few of the gruesome details. Suzanne just happened to catch the husband of the woman who found the body. A neighbor who had been returning Cassandra's dog . . . or something like that.”

She shrugged again, acting nonchalant and playing down her interest.

Charles saw right through her. She could tell instantly by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, suppressing a laugh.

“Something like that,” he echoed.

“Would you like a cold drink? Iced tea, or cold water?”

“Sounds great. Yes, I would.”

He followed her to the back of the store and watched while she rummaged around the storeroom. He leaned on the counter and smiled at her.

Charles wore a suit or at least a sport coat and tie, no matter the weather. He looked very handsome in a jacket and tie, too, she'd always thought. Perhaps it was the department dress code for detectives on duty, but Maggie had a feeling he would have dressed up anyway. He didn't even look uncomfortable, or bedraggled by the heat, though he did slip his jacket off and neatly drape it on the back of a chair when they stepped back out to the worktable.

Maggie handed him a glass of iced tea and took a seat nearby.

“Are you on this case?” she asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yes, I am.”

“We had her here Thursday night. For a reading. Cassandra, I mean,” Maggie reminded him.

“Right. You mentioned that she was coming.” Charles nodded, still smiling at her. “We'll be talking to everyone who's met with her since she came to town. She kept records. They look very complete.”

“Records of appointments, you mean?” Maggie suddenly wondered if he meant notes on the people Cassandra met with, research she did before the meeting in order to sound clairvoyant.

Charles nodded again. “That's right, her appointments. What did you think I meant?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe she kept notes about her clients. She must have done a little research before appointments when she could. Just to sound like she was really tuning to the spirit messages.”

“So you don't believe she was really psychic?” Charles seemed amused. He squeezed the slice of lemon on the top of his tea and took a long sip.

“Of course not . . . do you?” Maggie stared at him, sure he must be teasing now.

He sighed and set his glass down. “I don't believe in that sort of thing. Though a lot of people do. Her profession does complicate the situation.”

“I'd think so.” Maggie paused, wondering what questions she could ask.

She'd found out the hard way there was a fine line between interest in Charles's job and being a pesky snoop in police investigations. She'd crossed that line a few times too many . . . with unhappy consequences.

“Do you think her murder is related to Jimmy Hubbard's death?”

Charles shook his head. “Not likely. Of course, we have to consider that possibility. We're looking at her client list first. But I'm sure you already guessed that.”

“Yes . . . I did.”

He waited a moment, wondering how freely he should talk about the case with her, Maggie suspected. But she was going to be officially interviewed and he was investigating the event. And he had already admired, many times in fact, her amazing powers of observation and memory. What else would a detective want in a witness . . . or a girlfriend, she secretly assured herself.

“What did you think? Aside from suspecting she was a fraud? Do you know any reason why someone would want to kill Cassandra Waters? Have you heard any gossip?” he added, more to the point.