Bernadine Fagan - Nora Lassiter 01 - Murder by the Old Maine Stream (8 page)

I sneezed and let her stand there and wonder as she listened to Niagara Falls. Who knew a bladder could hold so much without bursting.

One glance in the mirror and I went white with shock. It was worse than I thought. Omigod. Nick had seen me like this. My hair wasn’t just sticking up. It looked like some school science experiment gone awry. The designer clothes I’d bought on sale when I was a working woman were a mosaic of cat hair and dust balls. Worse, now that I didn’t have the car window open, that under-the-bed-aroma was stronger. Which way had the wind been blowing? Had Nick smelled this?

Mary Fran pounded on the door. “Nora. Come out and tell me what you found. You never called like you promised.”

Where, exactly, was that odor coming from? I sniffed here and there.

“Nora Lassiter. Answer me.”

I checked back and front, up and under, and finally spotted the telltale white chunks on the back of my sleeve.

“Did you fall in? What’s happening in there?”

It was quarter after four. The family was gathered in the lawyer’s office wondering where I was. I’d come four days early for this event.

“Noorrrraah!”

I yanked open the door. “I have to get cleaned up and out of here. I’m late.”

“First, tell me–”

“Yes, he’s cheating. Yes, I got the emails to back it up, and when I return from the lawyer’s I’ll give them to you and tell you all about it. Not another word on the subject until then. Help me look presentable.”

“He’s cheating. I knew it,” she said with a grimace. “No surprise there.” She grabbed a towel and brushed me down, then nudged me into a magenta chair and worked on my hair.

“Where the hell were you? How’d this happen? Look at the bumps on your forehead. My God. Were you attacked? Did you fall? Have a car accident?”

“I’m fine. I bumped my head.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“My hair, Mary Fran. Just do my hair. Fast. I hate to be late for anything.” I did not want to tell her right now that Percy had been at the house today.

In the shop, all pretense of not listening ceased. I became the cynosure of all eyes.

“You look like you’ve been crawling around in a cellar. You’re usually such a prissy little neat-freak.”

Prissy? Me? “I prefer to think of myself as being well-groomed.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Mary Fran said, but her tone implied I was a hopeless case and she wouldn’t take total responsibility for the end result.

By the time I headed for the lawyer’s office in his home just outside of town, a straight run, thank heavens, it was four-forty. Every eye focused on me as I walked into the main room. Today seemed to be my day to be onstage.

And the Oscar goes to… .

Hannah motioned me to the chair next to her.

“Finally,” Agnes commented. “My knee’s been bothering me, sittin’ on these metal chairs so long. He should get better chairs.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Agnes,” I said. “I was … busy.”

“She’s dizzy.” Agnes called out. “Someone help. Quick. Before she faints.”

“
Busy
. She said she was busy,” Ida clarified with a smirk that resembled a twisted pretzel.”

“Doing what?” Agnes asked.

“You need that knee surgery,” Hannah told Agnes. “I’ve been telling you for about a year now. You’ve got to make the decision. Just do it, for heaven sakes. We’re sick of hearing about your gosh darn knee.

Ida suggested, “You should talk to Helen in Senior Citizens. She had her knee done last year. She’s up and running around like nobody’s business.”

“Oh, that one,” Hannah said. “Ever since her operation, she thinks she’s a regular Marilyn Monroe. Dyed her hair brassy blond. Wears those tight clothes.”

The uncles exchanged approving glances. They gave me a big hello, big smile, nothing like the reserved reception at the Country Store earlier today. I played the game, and gave them an equally big hello. Strange people, these Mainers.

Exhausted, I slumped in the chair. My detective career had about done me in.

“Where’s Uncle JT?” I whispered to Hannah.

She nodded toward Ellie. “Don’t know. Ellie said he was off somewhere on business.” Her tone implied this was strange, and she wasn’t sure Ellie had told her the truth.

The lawyer, a man I thought looked a little like George Washington on the dollar bill, without the wig, of course, sat at a huge oak desk angled in front of a bay window. My eyes were drawn to a view of towering pines, a pond, a small dock. In summer it would be the perfect place to sit and listen to the loons. That made me smile. Today I’d listened to human loons.

Looking at me, the lawyer cleared his throat. “I think we should get started. This won’t take long.”

Hannah waved her hand. “Everyone’s here. Read away.” She smiled at the uncles, and finally me, the smile losing a shade of brightness the longer she looked at me. “Are you all right, Nora? You look different. Your hair is so high.”

I tried to press it down, not an easy task. Damn Mary Fran and her teasing comb. And her trigger-finger on that hair spray can. I had Brillo hair.

“And your forehead … did you get stung by wasps? Do you need treatment?”

“I’m fine. I just need to sit here.”

Hannah leaned over to give me a kiss and I leaned toward her. My hair touched her face, and she flinched. I quickly checked her for cheek abrasions. She seemed all right. However, when she sat back, she wrinkled her nose, looked around and sniffed the air as if she’d smelled something unpleasant. I casually lifted my arm and sure enough, that sour milk was more than a memory. I thought I’d cleaned it. Instead of enlightening Hannah, I feigned ignorance.

The lawyer had several pages in front of him. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t have given them to someone in the family instead of having this formal reading, or even mailed them out. He’d explained in his letter that Great-grandma Evie had requested a reading with the family assembled, and everyone had agreed to respect her wishes. I suppose when you reach ninety-five and make requests, people try to oblige. Evie was a strong woman, leader of the Lassiter clan for many years.

The lawyer read off a list of items—nothing of consequence—that Grandma wanted family members to have. I was bequeathed a hankie with lavender lace tatting. I was a little hurt, but bobbed my head graciously to hide my feelings. I’d driven hundreds of miles for a hankie? Well, what did I expect? I was out of the loop, an estranged family member, and I should be grateful, I suppose, that I’d even been invited to this reading.

I tried not to smirk.

Or cry.

So far, this had not been a banner day. Crappy. It had been crappy. I tried to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and almost cut my finger. I smelled my sleeve again while it was up there. Not too bad. Hannah’s nose must be ultra sensitive. Or maybe I was getting used to the smell?

I closed my eyes. I was so tired. If I were lying down I’d be asleep in minutes. The lawyer was reading about some land. I drifted mentally. Who cared? Everyone knew Ida got everything, house and land. She deserved it, earned it. For years Ida had taken care of Great-grandma Evie. She had cooked and cleaned, taken her to doctors’ offices and on visits to relatives and friends. Ida was a good woman and deserved the security of the house and property, even if she was getting on in years and would probably not be here much longer.

“Nora Lassiter,” the lawyer said aloud. All heads swiveled in my direction.

What?

I knew I should have been paying attention. This used to happen in school. All of a sudden the teacher would call on me, and I had no idea of what the question was.

“Nora,” Hannah said gleefully. “I’m so happy for you.”

Before I could respond to Hannah, the lawyer said, “You can remain and we’ll go over the paperwork. I wish your brother Howard had been able to make it today, Nora.”

What had we inherited?

“You can do so much with the property,” Ida said, smiling. “Build a house, tap the maples and make syrup.”

“You could tap the maple trees and make syrup,” Agnes said.

“I just said that,” Ida told her. “Plug in your hearing aid.”

Ignoring the comment, Agnes said, “Many years back Grandma Evie was famous, at least in the family, for her maple syrup. No one’s bothered since she stopped. More’s the pity. But someone could show you how it’s done. You can even make maple candy. That’s one of my favorites. Maple candy.”

Holy crap! Land. Howie and I had inherited some land, a section of Ida’s property? Me, Nora Lassiter, a landowner. A maker of maple syrup? Hard to picture.

I looked at Ida and she didn’t seem upset. Surprisingly, neither did any other members of the family. Had they known? And approved? Strange. With all the nodding and smiling, they seemed to. I wondered how much the property was worth. I’d be able to pay the American Express bill, for sure.

“Why me?” I asked the lawyer after everyone left.

“Evelyn ‘Evie’ Lassiter and her husband Charles, who died five years ago, decided they wanted you and your family back in Silver Stream, Nora. Even your mother, if she would come. They felt this would be a draw.”

The lawyer held out an envelope. “I was to give you this. Evie said it explained what she wanted to explain.”

I took the envelope with my name and Howie’s written in flowing, old-fashioned script across the front. More than anything I wanted to rip it open and read it immediately, but caution, which I believe runs only surface-deep in me most of the time, urged me to hold off until I was alone.

“Thank you,” I said to the lawyer as I slipped the envelope into my purse. “Can I sell this land, or hand it over to Ida?”

“Both, I suppose. Ask the family if any of them want to buy it. Or you could live there, as your great-grandmother wanted. Perhaps a trailer to start out. Later, a house. I did not read the letter she wrote to you. It was sealed by her, kept private, the way she wanted it. She considered it extremely important. She did tell me there was something she wanted you to do.”

He seemed to leave the last sentence hanging, implying I should do what Grandma Evie wanted before I returned to New York.

“One more thing.”

He hesitated, and I realized he was going to say something he felt uneasy about, which, of course, made me uneasy, too.

“Several years back, when your great-grandmother was ninety-one, but in full control of her faculties, she was very troubled about something. Maybe she tells you about it in the letter. I hope so. Ninety-one should be a time of peace. Clearly it wasn’t peaceful for her, at least where you and your brother and your parents were concerned.”

Okay, now I was definitely uneasy. I figured it had something to do with Dad and the move to New York. Perhaps I would finally find out what had happened all those years ago.

As I signed more papers, he promised to help with any details he could.

I drove back to Ida’s place, thinking about how much my life had changed in four days. Not only had I taken on a “job” for Mary Fran, but I’d inherited a large tract of land, fifty acres. With the loss of my city job, my life had been in the toilet financially. Now, I had land I could sell.

Unbidden, Whatshisname flashed through my thoughts, and I felt a sharp stab of grief. As much as I wanted to be rid of him, he still invaded my head. I wished I could press a mental eject button, especially of that last crushing scene when he had been naked in my shower with that woman.

Ida was watching
Crime Stoppers
when I arrived back at the house, so I gave her a quick kiss and went up to my room. With great care, I opened the letter. It was written in the same flowing script as the names on the envelope: Howard and Nora.

I quickly read to the end, then sat there with my mouth open. Stunned, I read it again, more slowly this time.

EIGHT

Dear Nora and Howie,

I’ve seen lots in my time. Some good, some bad. One of the bad was your father leaving Silver Stream. It was my fault.

Maybe we should have come together more as a family and backed him. The offender should have been brought to justice like he wanted originally. I begged him not to pursue the matter. I had visions of the family name being dragged through the mud. I shouldn’t have meddled. I should have let him handle it any way he chose, being that his wife was the affronted party.

Although your dad did what I wanted, he thought we were choosing to sweep it all under the rug. That wasn’t so. Sexual harassment is wrong. Plain and simple.

Back then, we thought since your mother was okay, the matter should be put behind us. After much ado, your father finally agreed and I thought that was the end of it. But of course, it wasn’t.

I won’t go into the details. By now, you know them. The matter is long over and should remain so. I just want you to know that I’m sorry I meddled. I, for one, didn’t think he was guilty of anything, although some did, but I may have been the cause of the tragic consequences. I’m sorry I didn’t understand how upset your father was before it was too late.