Trimmed With Murder (16 page)

Jake sighed, then took hold of Nell's arm and walked with her back to the bar.

“I heard you might have introduced Patrick and Ellie?”

“Me? Nah. But it happened here. Patrick's brother, Stu, was a regular from the day he was legal. Not anymore so much, but when he was starting out, feeling his oats. Helen didn't like it much—she was more into martinis—so he'd come alone. Stu knew everyone, that one, quite a talker, just like he is now. And Ellie was as patient as a saint with him. Listened to his stories as if he were the only one in the bar. Then he brought Patrick in on his birthday to buy him a drink.”

“And he met Ellie.”

Jake nodded. “And worlds collided, as they say.”

It was a romantic story. With a tragic ending that Jake was replaying as he talked. Nell watched the deep sadness fill Jake's eyes.

“Who could have done this to Amber, Jake?”

He shook his head. “I've been thinking and thinking.” He knocked on the side of his head. “But nothing comes to me. Nothing. Amber didn't hurt anyone, didn't do nothing.” He looked over at the round table where the others were sitting and talking, watching the game. He nodded toward Charlie. “He's a nice guy, Izzy's brother. I thought maybe, hey, maybe something is going on there, something good. And now—look at him. Miserable.”

“Yes, he is, Jake. He's having a rough time with this—on all accounts, if you know what I mean.”

“I know, I know. It's like they go for the husband or wife or lover first, like on the TV shows. People saw 'em together, so sure, they're going to poke at him. But Thompson is a good cop. A fair one. He'll figure it out.”

“She was asked to come to Sea Harbor for the will, Jake, but why do you think she came? Was it for closure?”

Jake gave the question serious thought. Finally he said, “I think it depends on which day.”

“Day?”

“It was like something was unfolding inside her last week, little by little. That night she came to town—she ended up in here, y'know. Maybe to see the photo, I dunno. Maybe because this was kinda her mom's place. So that miserable cold night after Charlie dropped her off, this is where she came, to Jake's.”

He said it as a point of pride, that Amber had somehow sought comfort at the Gull Tavern. A place where she felt safe.

“But anyways, we talked late that night before I called Esther and said I was bringing her over for dry clothes and a good night's sleep. She told me she finally decided she needed to come back. She wanted to pick up her mom's few things. Sign the damn papers for whatever Lady Lydia was leaving her—those were her words, not mine. And then disappear.

“But then things seemed to change, day by day, and I'm not sure why. Charlie brought her in here almost every night last week. Sometimes it was real late, her looking like she'd been studying for some awful dreaded test. Charlie being attentive. Getting her a beer, a hamburger. I liked that she had someone who seemed to be taking care of her.”

“But then her focus changed, like she was on a mission. Something happened, but I don't know what. Like she was putting pieces of her mom's life together, and she didn't want to leave town until the picture was complete. She was hell-bent on figuring out the company,
her
company, I suppose you could say, or something. But there was more to it. She started asking me lots of questions about Ellie—like she'd discovered something about her when she was rummaging through Cummings files, something that turned her attention more to her mother. She focused on those last years when I'd visit Ellie now and then. Who cared for her? How much did it cost? Who came to see her? What was it like, the day that she died? All kinds of questions, most of which didn't have answers, at least not from me.”

Nell listened carefully, trying to imagine Amber's path those last days. Trying to make the questions fit together.

But the one image that stayed in her mind long after the others floated to the background was that of a young girl, a pigtailed little girl sneaking into a bar to stand in a back hallway, staring up at her mother.

C
harlie was scheduled to work at the free health clinic late the next afternoon. It left him with a long day. Or such was Nell's assessment that morning when she and Ben stretched their sleep-slogged bodies and prepared for their own day.

“I think I'll lure him out. That cottage is too small for the emotion bottled up inside him.”

“He was quiet during the game last night,” Ben said. “He barely talked. Sam's concerned. He thinks Charlie is blaming himself for Amber's death. Sam thinks there's something going on inside Charlie's head, something Charlie thinks he should have paid attention to, and if he had, maybe this wouldn't have happened. It might be good if he had something else to focus on. Those kinds of thoughts are useless.”

Ben headed for the shower, leaving Nell standing at the bedroom window, rolling his words around in her head. A bigger concern than Charlie blaming himself, maybe, was other people blaming him. The suspicion lurked everywhere, embedded in every question Jerry Thompson had leveled at Charlie. Every note he had scribbled on his yellow pad.

Jerry had been open with Ben when they talked the day before—and fair. His suspect list was short, he said. But they were getting through it—talking to Cummings employees, especially the business-office people, with whom Amber seemed to have spent so much time.

And the force was not overlooking the fact of her unexpected inheritance and how it affected the Cummingses, he reminded Ben. They were turning over every possible motive they could come up with, including the fine points of Lydia Cummings's will.

He was sorry for dragging Charlie in, but he had to—Charlie's name came up in almost every interview. And for other reasons, too. The chief had paused then, uncomfortable with what he was to say next. But he pushed on. “Some of the same people who saw Charlie the night she died saw him drinking like a sailor. And he wasn't a happy drunk. His texts to Amber were proof of that.”

Ben listened with a pained look on his face.

But the chief had moved on, assuring Ben they would get to the bottom of it. They would find the person, the murderer, he assured Ben.

But the reassurance brought little comfort—and wouldn't—not until his nephew Charlie's name had completely fallen off that list.

Nell looked through the bedroom window at the quiet guesthouse, the blinds drawn, the backyard scene idyllic. And then she imagined the other side of the shingled walls—and the troubled man boxed inside.

•   •   •

Nell waited until midmorning, then slipped on a heavy jacket and boots, collected a thermos of coffee and a toasted bagel, and went down to the guest cottage. Her footsteps crunched on the snow-crusted flagstones, and the frozen air stung her lungs. Bright sunlight warmed her cheeks. It brought all her senses alive—a startling sensation that felt cleansing and good. She knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to wake Charlie if by some stroke of luck he had been able to sleep in.

But he was up and dressed, as Nell had suspected he'd be, his hair still wet from a shower.

She set the coffee and bagel on the small table. “How about you and I spend some time together today? I need to go to the bookstore that Danny Brandley's parents run. You need an introduction. Then lunch with Izzy, maybe, if she's free?”

Charlie looked at his aunt with affection, but hesitated, shifting from one stockinged foot to the other. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroys and looked directly at Nell, his eyes locking in to hers. “I'll be okay, you know,” he said. “It was temporary, breaking down like that.”

“I'm not offering to babysit, Charlie. I know you'll be all right. But I want to spend time with you, that's all.”

Charlie knew it was more than that, but he nodded and agreed. “I could use some good books,” he said.

•   •   •

They left an hour later in Charlie's car, dropping letters at the post office, then finding a parking place in the alley between Izzy's Knitting Studio and the Sea Harbor Bookstore. Nell moved to unsnap her seat belt and glanced into the backseat. It was littered with stained, dog-eared papers, wrappings from burgers, a candy bar, an empty Dunkin' Donuts cup. On the floor were a few books.

Charlie saw Nell's look as he turned off the ignition. “I know, I need to clean out this thing.” He looked over the seat. “Amber wasn't the neatest person around. I think my backseat became her office or her trash can, not sure which.” He took a breath and released it slowly. “Maybe that's why I haven't cleaned it up.”

Nell nodded, remembering Birdie's affection for her first husband Sonny's belongings. A leather chair that still held the distinct cherry fragrance of his favorite tobacco. An old scarf, the first Birdie had ever knit for him, frayed and shrunk. And valued.

They both got out of the car and Nell looked once more through the back window. “What are all those papers?”

“Nothing, really. Things she printed off at the Cummings office, then tossed aside. Financial stuff. Salary records. She was a little obsessed.”

“Salary records?”

Charlie shrugged. “Go figure. She thought their pay scale was screwy. Maybe she was looking to see if the owners got salaries, who knows? Amber actually liked to read financial records. She loved numbers. She told me the other day that she liked math because it gave her the sense that there was order in the universe, an underlying structure. And that made her feel safe.”

The irony of Amber's comment hung frozen in the air.

Nell looked once more at the mess of papers in the backseat. “I suppose reading those things away from the Cummings office, when no one was looking over her back, was easier.”

“Maybe. Garrett was there most of the time, she said. He told her he was going to start charging her for printing, but she reminded him that she owned part of the printers.” He laughed.

Nell had to laugh, too. “It doesn't sound like she was trying to win friends and influence people.”

“Nope. Not over there. But she had a soft side, Aunt Nell.”

“I know that, Charlie. I saw the warm side of Amber the first day she came over to our house. And after that, too, even when she tried to hide it. I think it was because of you. You mellowed her, Charlie. You made her feel comfortable.”

Charlie walked toward the bookstore door, looking at Nell sideways. “Even though she tried to steal my phone and chewed me out when I was late?” His smile was crooked, but Nell was happy to see it in any form.

“Yes, even though. And I wasn't the only one. Jake Risso has known Amber since she was little—and he saw it, too,” she said. “The softness was there.”

She walked through the doorway and waved at Archie Brandley. He was standing behind the computer, a pencil in his mouth and his glasses falling to the end of his nose.

“Archie, meet my nephew Charlie,” Nell called out, then took Charlie by the arm and led him over.

Archie greeted him nicely, but with a slight reserve that Nell was sure Charlie didn't notice. But she did. It wasn't like Archie.

Archie had heard the rumors just like everyone else. And as much as he loved Izzy, her brother was an unknown in town. And a woman in his town had been murdered.

“Charlie's helping Lily Virgilio at the free health clinic.”

“That so?” said Archie. “That's a fine place, the clinic.”

“Yeah, it is. They're keeping a lot of kids healthy. It's a privilege to be able to help out some,” Charlie said.

Charlie looked around the store, taking in the staircase to the second floor, the groupings of comfortable chairs, and the coffeepot perking near the window. And everywhere, from floor to ceiling, books. “This is a great bookstore you have here, Archie. Now I know what my friend Amber meant. She loved this place, one of the few things that hadn't changed since she was a kid, she said. She told me she nearly bought you out a couple days ago.”

Archie warmed at that and held out a hand, shaking Charlie's. “Yeah, it's a damn shame what happened to Amber. She was your friend. I'm sorry for your loss, Charlie.”

Nell watched the exchange, relieved that even after a few words, one could see through any rumors and fear and recognize who Charlie really was. A good man. Or at least that was what she hoped she was seeing in the thawing out in the bookseller's eyes.

“I didn't know you knew Amber, Archie,” Nell said.

“Sure I did. When she was a little kid she'd come in here and hide in the kids' section reading every Nancy Drew and
The Secret Garden
and anything else she could get her hands on. Not that her grandmother couldn't have bought the whole darn store for her if she'd wanted to.” He shook his head, his judgment out there in the air. Then he brushed it off and grinned at a memory. “One night I nearly locked the kid in. She was curled up and fell sound asleep. My wife, Harriet, found her when she was turning out the lights. Damnedest thing. I teased her about it the other day when she came in. Asked her if she still read Nancy Drew. She laughed. Then she hoisted some books onto the counter that were definitely not Nancy Drews. They were research types and I told her she should be getting some of those at the library, but she laughed and told me I shouldn't be saying that—it was no way to run a business, sending customers away.”

“What kind of books was she buying?” Nell asked.

Archie scratched his head. “An auditing book, business reports, that kind of boring stuff. One other I can't rightly remember on some other topic, medical or something. She was trying to figure out her inheritance, would be my guess.”

Charlie nodded. “Mighty heavy tomes,” he said. “They're weighing down my trunk right now, probably be as good as sandbags if it gets icy.”

Archie laughed and looked over as a young man headed to the desk. He held up a hand in greeting.

“Hey, Zack, my boy, I suppose you want a stack of superhero comic books?”

Nell and Charlie turned to see Zack Levin pulling out his earplugs to hear what Archie was saying.

“What's that, Arch?”

Archie repeated it and Zack grimaced in exaggerated fashion. “Archie, I grew up, didn't you notice? Jeez.” He laughed along with the store owner and set a couple of Harlan Coben mysteries on the desk, then noticed Nell and Charlie. “Hey, guys,” he said. He took a step toward Charlie and awkwardly clapped him on the back. “Hey, man. This really sucks. So sorry about Amber. She was way cool.”

Charlie nodded, then moved the conversation to a more neutral place. “So, how're you doing, Zack? Things okay at the office, as they say?”

“Same old same old. Only not really. When Amber was there she gave me things to do. I felt useful. She picked up on the computer stuff in a second. In fact—” He looked around as if there might be a spy in the bookstore listening.

He lowered his voice and continued. “She could tell right away that O'Neal had cleverly blocked her out of some files. I couldn't even tell, but Amber picked it up.”

“Blocked her out?” Nell asked.

“Yeah. It was his domain. He didn't like people poking around. Well, you saw some of that, right, Charlie?”

Charlie said yes.

“How did she solve that?” Nell asked.

Zack looked sheepish. “Well, I figured she was an owner, right? And I had all the passwords, since I was fixing computers, installing programs and things like that for them. So I told Amber I'd get the files for her. I figured Garrett was just trying to make it hard for her because they didn't like her around. He thought she'd get discouraged and leave. Didn't seem right. Jeez, it was her company. O'Neal was just a worker bee like me. Well, not exactly like me. He made big bucks.”

Nell looked at Charlie. He didn't seem surprised at Zack's machinations. “Were you working on anything else with Amber?” she asked.

“I was helping her explore Internet banking for the company. Something fun.”

“O'Neal didn't like it,” Charlie said. “Amber said he was a Luddite.”

Zack shrugged. “Yeah, it sent him off the deep end. They should join the twenty-first century, Amber told him.”

Nell smiled indulgently at the conversation and kept it to herself that she refused to bank online. Cell phones were wonderful, but sending your checks off to some cloud somewhere? She would need more convincing.

Zack had warmed to his subject and went on, praising Amber's ability not to back down to the boss man. “She scolded him like she was the one in charge, not him. She said he needed to brush up on some things. But when he left the room, she told me it had nothing to do with being in the wrong century. It was something else completely.”

“What was that?” Nell said.

Zack pulled out some bills and put them on the counter for Archie. “Oh, she didn't tell me. It was a surprise, she said. But from the look on her face, it wasn't going to be a happy surprise—at least not for O'Neal.”