Murder in Merino (6 page)

Nell smiled and gave her friend a quick hug. “I sometimes forget you’re an owner here, Don.” Looking around his shoulder, she spotted Jeffrey Meara, stepping back into one of the offices and quietly closing the door.

“A not-so-silent partner,” he said, glancing back into the office suites. “Sorry you overheard that. It’s nothing, just a minor business disagreement. Par for the course.”

“Don’t give it a thought. But whatever you’re doing to the Ocean’s Edge, it’s all good. Things just keep getting better and better here.”

“Good to hear.” Don began walking down the hallway beside her, ushering her out into the lighted entry. “Rachel thought I was crazy when I bought into this a few years ago. But she’s so dagnabbit busy managing all Sea Harbor’s legal maneuverings at City Hall that I needed something to keep me out of trouble. And I figured I had the necessary credentials—” He patted his midsection. “I love to eat.”

Nell laughed. Don often sailed with Ben—he and Rachel Wooten were old friends. And she was well aware of Don’s credentials, which were far more noteworthy than his healthy appetite. Having bought and sold several successful businesses on Cape Ann, he knew what he was doing when he bought into the Ocean’s Edge enterprise and contributed his expertise to making it one of the most popular restaurants on the North Shore.

Nell looked up and spotted Izzy waiting near the bar. She nodded in her direction, then smiled back at Don and excused herself. “Izzy and I need to get back to the most delicious cod I’ve had in ages—or at least since I was last here. Ben Endicott can’t be trusted around my plate.”

Don smiled, looking relieved to end the conversation, and Nell walked over to Izzy’s side.

Izzy’s smile told Nell that all was well with baby Abigail.

“Of course it is,” Nell said aloud, taking her niece’s arm. They wove their way between the tables, knowing that if Ben and Sam had their say, there would be a bountiful tray of desserts waiting for them.

She tucked away the curious encounter with Jeffrey and Don. They often kidded Don about the ease with which he approached life, a perfect complement, everyone agreed, to his wife Rachel’s lawyerly demeanor. But business partnerships were something Nell had some experience with—Ben’s family had owned a successful company for decades. And she knew well that such dealings could bring out personality traits never visible during dinner with friends or afternoons spent sailing at sea.

A short while later, after watching Sam scrape the sides of his empty bowl of crème brûlée with his spoon, they all agreed it was time to go. A perfect evening. Time for bed.

Ben and Sam went on ahead to bring the car around while the women gathered up their things and headed to the front entrance.

Izzy spotted Danny Brandley first. He was leaning on the polished surface of the bar, talking to Jeffrey Meara and nursing a beer.

Danny spotted her at the same time and waved them over. “Hey, you two. I just talked to Cass. She’s in her glory. Having Abby all to herself is pretty great, Iz. She refused my offer to help. Next time it’s my turn.”

Izzy hugged him. “I am crazy about the fact that our baby has so many aunts and uncles loving her. But I’m sorry you’re here all alone. You should have joined us for dinner.”

“And be the fifth wheel? Just saw Sam and Ben and they made it clear that it was double date night.” He laughed. “I’m fine. I’m just here to meet someone for a drink.”

He looked toward the front door, then lifted one hand in the air.

Izzy and Nell turned. The entrance door was open tonight to bring in the evening breeze. Esther Gibson, Sea Harbor’s longtime police dispatcher, her cane in hand, was tapping her way into the restaurant with her husband, Richard, close behind, her white head nodding to everyone she passed.

But it wasn’t the Gibsons who were drawing Danny’s attention.

Nell and Izzy stared.

It was Jules Ainsley, walking directly behind Esther and Richard and looking slightly caged in by Esther’s slow pace.

She was looking around. It was a moment before she spotted them at the bar, just long enough for them to admire her silky red blouse, the locket that rested between the rise of her breasts. Her hair was loose tonight—a tangle of waves that Nell suspected was the result of a quick brushing—yet looked like some stylist had spent hours making it appear casually glamorous. Her skirt was breezy and her manner the same.

Spotting Danny’s raised hand, she hurried over.

“Sorry I’m late, Dan.” She smiled at all of them. A generous smile, unaffected, seemingly oblivious to the emotions that her meeting with Danny Brandley might generate.

“Wine?” Danny asked, but Jules shook her head and pointed to his dark beer. She focused her smile on the bartender.

Jeffrey smiled back, but it was a curious smile that quickly turned to a puzzled one. “Have we met?” he asked her.

She extended her hand across the bar. “You’re the second person who has asked me that this week. But no, I don’t think so. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve not actually met. I’m Jules Ainsley. And you are the Bartender, or so the locals tell me.”

Jeffrey didn’t seem to notice the outstretched hand or anything she was saying. Instead, he leaned a little closer, continuing to scrutinize her face. His brows pulled together in concentration. Finally he said, “I guess you’re right.” But his eyes remained fixed on her face.

Jules wrapped her necklace around one finger, the small charm sliding through her fingers. Her words were quick, as if wanting to appease his stare. “Well, I don’t think we’ve met, though I might be wrong. I’ve eaten here before. I love this place. The calamari alone has added five pounds to my hips. Maybe you’ve noticed me because of that. The gal in the corner chowing down all those squid.” Throaty laughter followed her words.

“Tell her she’s not alone, Jeffrey. The Edge’s calamari is famous,” Nell said. “She has good taste.”

Jeffrey finally released his stare. He filled a mug with beer from the tap and slid it across the bar.

Jules thanked him and took a sip.

“You been here before?” he asked.

“In Sea Harbor?”

He nodded.

“Not exactly. Well, no.”

“You like our town?”

“I love it here. It’s an amazing place.”

He nodded. “Why do you think that?”

“Why do I think it’s amazing? I don’t know. The people. The sea. I feel at home here in an odd way. Like I
have
been here before. Even though I haven’t.”

Jeffrey’s eyes narrowed, his look intense.

Nell felt the awkwardness of the conversation, with Jeffrey’s scrutiny unnerving all of them. “Jules is from Chicago,” she said. “She’s a runner, and is enjoying exploring Cape Ann on foot.”

Again, Jeffrey wasn’t listening. Instead, his eyes were moving from Jules’s face to her blouse, to the finger twisting around a gold chain.

“Okay, then,” he said finally. His eyes focused on the necklace, shiny against a tan chest. “That’s nice. Your locket. It’s a clamshell, right?”

She nodded. “It’s old. You can hardly see the shell anymore. I should probably stop fiddling with it. Nervous habit.”

It looked for a minute as if Jeffrey was going to reach out and lift the jewelry up to the light. But instead, he forced himself to look away. He smiled at the rest of the group, the expression familiar and one they were all more accustomed to seeing on Jeffrey’s face. He shook his head as if ridding it of cobwebs. “’Scuse my questions. I like to find out about people visiting our town. Two more beers, Danny? On the house.” He looked over as Ben and Sam walked in. “Ben? Sam? Any takers?”

Ben dangled his keys. “We’ve got to get Izzy home. A hungry baby awaits.”

“Sure. I get that,” Jeffrey said as Ben moved his group away from the bar and toward the door.

But the bartender’s words were distracted, muted.

Nell followed Ben through the door. She paused and glanced back before heading down the steps.

Danny’s elbows were on the bar, his head lowered, his attention on whatever Jules was saying. She was talking quietly, leaning toward Danny to be heard. One finger twisted her necklace chain around and around, as if tugging on it brought some clarity to her thoughts. The conversation seemed serious, intent.

And off to the side, his blunt fingers drying the same wineglass over and over and over, Jeffrey Meara watched the conversation as if it was about to change the course of his life.

“O
h, you know Cass. Cass is Cass,” Izzy said. The fat wheel of Abigail’s beach stroller moved smoothly along the sand.

It was the early morning, a clear Tuesday with a slight breeze and only an occasional whitecap rolling up on the shore. Abby loved movement, and her tiny pink hands clapped as she lay back in her padded cocoon. Beside her, Nell and Birdie worked to keep pace with the stroller.

“She can’t be happy about Danny spending time with Jules,” Nell said.

“When we got home Sunday night, she already knew about Danny being at the Edge. He called her earlier and told her Jules had asked to meet with him there.”

“Of course he did,” Nell said, her voice filled with the need to keep Danny’s integrity firm, to protect this quiet man they all loved.

“But why?” Birdie asked. “What could Jules possibly want from Danny?”

Nell looked at Izzy. She had wondered the same thing, and had asked Danny as much when she’d run into him at his parents’ bookstore the day before. His answer then had been a nonanswer. He’d shrugged and said Jules was a mystery fan. And she needed some help with something. She’d heard he was a reporter, and didn’t reporters know everything? It wasn’t a typical Danny answer. Danny didn’t claim to have fans and rarely talked about the fact that he had been a recognized and respected reporter. That he had won awards and was sought after as a special guest at conferences. He had “made it” in a world that didn’t make that easy.

“I guess that’s the mystery in all this,” Izzy said. “Cass was trying really hard to handle it without showing anger or jealousy. She asked him that exact question: Why was he spending time with a gorgeous woman, at a bar, at night—without her? I’ll tell you right now that if she invites Sam Perry for a drink, I’m going along. Or better yet, Abby will go along, nicely parked on Sam’s back, preferably right before a feeding.”

Nell and Birdie laughed, imagining the scene.

“So what did Danny say?” Nell asked.

“Nothing, really. Just that she was interested in mysteries and the fact that he’d been an investigative reporter.”

“Fiddlesticks,” Birdie said. “That’s a conversation you have at a party or when meeting Danny in the bookstore. You don’t invite a handsome young man to have drinks with you to discuss it. Especially one who is involved with another woman.”

Izzy picked up her pace and Nell and Birdie huffed to catch up. “I was upset when she told me, but the more I think about it, I think Jules is oblivious to the fact that Cass might not like her hanging out with Danny. And I don’t think she’s really flirting, either. Jules doesn’t strike me that way. She was in the shop yesterday, talking to everyone, asking a million questions about Sea Harbor, why people lived there, who lived where, who was who. How great the food was. How friendly the people. You’d think she was writing a history of the town or an article for a travel magazine instead of just visiting. She sat with Esther Gibson for a long time in the shop, knitting away, and Esther was in heaven—she loved having someone interested in all her old stories.

“Customers liked her, too. Even Mae likes her, and she’s a pretty good judge of character. She likes that Jules seems unaware of her looks, as if it’s totally irrelevant to anything important. She’s almost careless about herself.”

Nell had noticed that, too. Unlike many beautiful women, Jules didn’t try to bring attention to herself. She was who she was—that was the message she gave out, and whether people liked her or not didn’t seem to be anything she worried much about.

But there was something else about Jules Ainsley. Something just beneath the surface. A kind of determination that Nell couldn’t quite put her finger on. She was friendly, but directed, and Nell suspected she wouldn’t take kindly to people getting in her way.

“Do you know if she’s been married?” Birdie asked.

“No husband, now or ever. Mae came right out and asked her.”

Nell laughed. “Mae Anderson is the perfect shop manager for you, Iz. She probably knows the complete history of every deliveryman who steps into the shop. No unsavory characters allowed.”

“Was Jules offended?”

“Not at all. She laughed, in fact, and told Mae that she’d had a couple of relationships but none that ended in permanency. She said she probably wasn’t cut out for that kind of commitment.”

A familiar voice traveled across the sand beach and stilled the conversation. They all turned toward the sound.

“Hi, guys,” Jules Ainsley called out from the water’s edge. She waved a baseball cap in the air.

A bright red tank top was plastered to her damp tan skin. Green sneakers kicked up sand as she jogged along the beach, her shoes just touching the tide. A headband was only partially successful in holding her hair in place.

They waved back, but Jules had already passed them and soon was just a moving dot in the distance.

Jules’s appearance caused an end to the conversation. The feeling that somehow they’d been gossiping hovered uncomfortably as they kept up with the fat wheels of the stroller moving along the sand. For a while they walked in silence, the breeze off the water blowing away remnants of the uncomfortable conversation and energizing them with the smells of the sea. When the beach narrowed to a sliver, they turned their backs on the beach and headed toward the road.

“Is your house on the market yet?” Birdie asked, looking down the road to the hilly neighborhood that Izzy had lived in before her marriage to Sam. The cottage was at the top of a gentle rise in the land on the quiet Ridge Road cul-de-sac. Trees, brambles, and bushes crowded the low hill that led up to the homes.

Izzy laughed. “Supposed to be. But no. We thought it’d be ready to show sooner, but Abby put her chubby little foot down. It’s amazing how a person as sweet and tiny and wonderful as Abigail Kathleen can determine our days with such indomitable force. With a tweak of her finger she pushes everything else in our lives to the backseat.”

“As it should be. And you love it, Isabel,” Birdie said.

Izzy nodded happily. She looked back at the hill. The potting shed and back porch were just visible above the trees. “As for the house, Sam did some minor fix-ups last night. We didn’t get around to the potting shed as we’d planned—it’s still a mess from the last tenant. Gloves and tools all over the place. But Stella thinks that’s okay since, as she so sweetly put it, we’re selling a house, not a place to pot plants. She’s having an open house Friday. She even bought a new dress for it. Can you believe it? She’s so excited.”

Watching Stella Palazola, a young Sea Harbor resident they’d known nearly her whole life, setting out on a new career was nice to see.

Izzy turned Abby’s stroller down the beach road and toward a shortcut that would take them back to Nell’s house, where scones and iced tea were waiting.

Birdie paused for a minute, looking back toward the hill leading up to the Ridge Road neighborhood. She pushed her sunglasses into her short white hair and squinted. “Isn’t that Jules down there?”

Izzy and Nell stopped and looked back down the road toward the hill.

Jules Ainsley stood at the edge of the road, her profile visible as she stared up the hill. For a moment she appeared to be frozen, her body unnaturally immobile. Then one hand lifted to her mouth, as if suppressing a cry.

Birdie started to move in that direction, to call out, but she stopped before the words were formed, instinctively knowing it was a moment that defied interruption.

An eerie moment.

Jules’s head was held back as if tethered in place. Her eyes were focused on something in the trees and bushes that covered the hill like a briar patch, as if seeing something visible only to her. It was a look of awe, they agreed later. A look of disbelief.

A look that was seeing a mirage, or a miracle in motion, or something else entirely.

A look that was aimed directly at the hill leading up to the Perrys’ cottage.