Angora Alibi (15 page)

“Go on,” Birdie said.

“It was bulky—the envelope. So I looked inside. I think it’s why he wanted to see
you on Sunday.”

Janie fumbled in her bag and pulled out an envelope. While everyone watched, she opened
the end and poured the contents onto a napkin.

A platinum chain fell out first, followed by a handful of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires,
sparkling in the candlelight. Finally Janie stuck two fingers back in the envelope
and pulled out the remaining piece—two large entwined hearts.

Birdie looked down at it. She fingered the hearts, and the trace of a smile lifted
the corners of her mouth.

“Goodness. Even with the jewels pried out, it’s still quite an unattractive necklace,”
she said. She looked around the table. “I don’t believe it would even have looked
nice on Tamara Danvers.” She shook her small white head and smiled in a comforting
way, patting Janie’s quivering hand. “And most certainly not on Justin.”

I
t was late Friday night when they finally went their separate ways.

Ben had called Tommy at the station and invited him to drop by after his shift. He
mentioned the double chocolate brownies—but also said Janie was there. She’d had a
long night. His company would be welcome.

Tommy showed up soon after and stayed close to Janie’s side, mostly listening while
she filled him in.

When she finished, Birdie looked at her long face and gave her a hug. “So much sadness
isn’t productive, dear.” And then she told Janie about the donation Justin had made
to Father Larry’s underprivileged children fund. “He wasn’t all bad, you see. You
taught him some things, Janie.”

“I knew kids like Justin when Ham and I lived in Berkeley in the early seventies,”
Jane Brewster said. “Those were different times, but stealing didn’t seem so bad to
runaway kids—and we met plenty of them. They had their own way of thinking: the store
would always have more wallets and more knives. Rich people had more jewelry. Who
would care? And if some of that money went to help someone who needed it, even better.
And often it did. Like Ben said, there was an element of Robin Hood about it all—redistributing
the goods to make the world a more equal place.”

Birdie smiled at Janie. “We think Justin may have been playing Robin Hood.”

For the first time that night, they saw the shadow of a smile on Janie’s pale face.

The condition of the necklace was interesting, Tommy said. Justin had probably removed
the gems because they’d be easier to sell. Certainly less recognizable than the distinctive
necklace from which they came.

“And he didn’t know it was Birdie’s,” Janie reminded them again. “None of us did.”

Even Tommy agreed he’d probably not have done it if he knew whose necklace it was.
And for Janie’s sake he held back the words they all knew were trying to get out:
But it was still wrong
.

“And who knows what he planned to do with the money he’d get for the jewels?” Ben
reminded them. “Buy something for Janie? A Boys’ Club contribution? Put it in Father
Northcutt’s collection basket?”

The more they peeled away the layers of Justin Dorsey’s personality, the more of an
enigma he became.

Janie pointed to the scribble on the envelope. It was Birdie’s phone number. “He asked
me about the necklace recently,” she said. “He wondered if it had been found.” She
winced when she repeated his words, the lies still a fresh affront. “I told him it
was Birdie’s jewelry and she had decided to simply let it all be, not report it.

“At the time, I thought his reaction was kind of strange,” Janie went on, her eyes
on Birdie’s face. “He was shocked that it was yours. And seemed very bothered by it.
He liked you. He said you were one of the wisest women he’d ever met, and then he
asked me to get him your phone number.” Tommy brought her a glass of water, and she
went on.

“So now I suppose I get it. As wrongheaded as his thinking was, Justin didn’t steal
from friends or people he liked. Stealing from anonymous sources, like a store or
an auction that had anonymous donations, was apparently okay, but not from real people,
especially ones he knew I loved. So he was going to meet with you and make amends.
He shoved the necklace in my glove compartment so he could take it to you Sunday after
his dive. But . . . he never got that chance.” Her voice was filled with such sadness
that they looked away and began bringing in the dishes, leaving Janie to her moment
of grief.

They looked at the necklace again, and thought of his other small thefts—books, a
few small items from stores that Janie had found in his belongings, some wallets,
fancy knives, scuba gear. But none of them could imagine anyone killing him for those
things—and certainly not for an ornate necklace that its owner was happy to be rid
of.

After Tommy finished off the pan of brownies, he and Janie left, promising to be in
touch. Soon the crowd had dwindled to a few.

Ben scooped up the necklace pieces Janie had left, tossed the envelope on the kitchen
island, and found a studier container for it. “There’s always next year’s auction,”
he teased Birdie, then suggested Danny and Sam to join him on the deck for a glass
of his prized Macallan.

Nell turned on the dishwasher and began washing wineglasses.

“I’m feeling discombobulated,” Cass said, picking up a towel. “My mom always used
that word when the universe felt off-kilter.”

Izzy sat down at the island, her feet slightly swollen. Her face was drawn. “I think
there’s more to all this, and it frightens me. Things are definitely off-kilter.”

“Yes, there’s more to this than finding out there was a side to Justin we didn’t know
about. There’s his killer, someone who’s still out there somewhere, someone who took
a life,” Birdie said. “And it’s thrown us all off. Izzy, your sixth sense, or seventh,
or whatever it is, was on target. Something is not right in the universe.”

Izzy’s hands moved to the shape that now defined her. “I just ache for Janie. She’s
a brave gal—but she’s a mess right now. She took Justin into her life. And now—now
it’s all shattered.”

“You’re right,” Nell said. She wiped off the island, moving the empty jewelry envelope
and several napkins to the side counter. “She’s strong, but she’ll need all her friends.”

“And a break from being questioned by the police. I don’t care if they’re doing their
job or not,” Cass said. “That’s enough to break anyone. She’s grieving for the guy,
and at the same time she’s furious with him, and then there’s suspicion that she wanted
him dead. That’s heavy stuff.”

There was unspoken agreement, and then Birdie spoke again. “We all agree things are
off-kilter—and that poor girl can’t begin to put her life together until the person
who did this is found. There’s no room in any of our lives for the kind of fear that’s
created this black cloud over Sea Harbor. And it’s certainly not the town we want
to bring Izzy and Sam’s baby into.”

For a moment the only sounds in the kitchen were the wind, the dishwasher, and the
comforting, familiar voices floating in from the deck.

Off-kilter.

Not the kind of world to bring a baby into.

Birdie was the first to speak. “I’m tired, dear ones. But tomorrow I will be bright
and chipper, ready to continue this conversation and to knit an entire arm onto the
beautiful romper I am knitting for baby Perry. Last night’s knitting session barely
counted, and that baby will be wearing jeans and T-shirts before Nell finishes her
blanket if we don’t get to it. We need time to knit . . . and we need time to think.
Time to breathe fresh air.”

Nell peeled off her gloves and turned around. “Birdie, as usual, is absolutely right.”

“I’m in. Tomorrow?” Cass said.

“Yes, tomorrow,” Birdie said. “On my veranda. Bring your knitting.”

Of course,
they all agreed.

Another agreement was made, too, this one in that silent way of old friendships. An
agreement confirmed with a look and a nod of the head; as their needles worked magic
and soft yarn turned into tiny baby garments, their minds would be working, too—and
not on creating new patterns or figuring out a difficult entrelac pattern.

Their minds would be focused on figuring out a murder.

B
i
rdie’s Ravenswood estate was the perfect place to be, no matter the weather, no matter
the occasion. The home was both grandiose and as comfortable as an old friend. And
Birdie shared it generously.

Today, a slight afternoon breeze blew in off the ocean while the sun warmed the veranda
flagstones. “Like baked Alaska,” Birdie said, opening the veranda doors. “Warm and
cold.”

Nell pulled her cardigan around her shoulders and settled into one of Birdie’s steamer
chairs, its teak frame polished to a high gloss. The Favazza home, with its gardens
and verandas and patios, had the most magnificent view in Sea Harbor. The veranda
faced the harbor, and Birdie claimed that on clear days she could see all the way
out to the community center and Sunrise Island beyond. At night, one looked out on
a sea of lights.

“Ella made her famous chicken salad,” she said, motioning for Cass and Izzy to settle
in.

“And Gabby?”

“She’s off somewhere. Said it was a surprise. Gabby is full of surprises these days.”

And her surprises were keeping her nonna young, something her friends loved to see.

“I ran into Tommy on my way over here,” Nell said. She pulled her baby blanket out
of the bag and stretched it across her knees. “He’s worried about Janie. But even
more worried that the police have hit a dead end.”

“No suspects?” Cass asked.

“Apparently lots of them. At least people who had a grudge against Justin. Everyone
he stole from, like Gus McClucken, people whose businesses suffered because of him—”

“Like Archie Brandley,” Izzy said.

Nell nodded. “And each day the police come up with new names. They talked to Martin
Seltzer late yesterday.”

“Janie said Lily Virgilio was very upset about that,” Izzy said. “She told the police
that he couldn’t possibly have done anything to Justin.”

“She probably doesn’t want the clinic drawn into such a mess,” Birdie said. She finished
one sleeve on her romper for the baby and smoothed it out with the tip of her finger.

“I understand that. But I saw Martin yesterday,” Nell said, “and he was very vocal
about Justin. He thought he deserved what he got.”

“Not very smart of him. That won’t exactly clear him of suspicion,” Izzy said. “Janie
said there was terrible friction between those two, and she wasn’t sure why. Dr. Seltzer’s
complaints didn’t seem to merit that much hatred.”

Nell replayed Martin’s dagger-throwing look at Justin’s back the day of Izzy’s doctor’s
appointment. “And then he mumbled something about Justin not being around for long,
or his days being numbered, or something like that.”

“Around the clinic?” Cass said. She put down the small fisherman’s sweater, its cables
beginning to take shape. “Janie said he wanted Justin fired.”

“I suppose that’s what he meant. But . . .” But could it have been worse? She remembered
the look on his face, and then again at McClucken’s. Martin hated Justin Dorsey and
he didn’t care who knew it.

“This is hard for us because we don’t want anyone we know to be guilty of something
so awful,” Birdie said. “But someone is. Someone killed Justin, and it might very
well have been someone we know.” She paused and looked out at the harbor, the blue
of the sky, the billowing sails in the distance. “In fact, it probably is. If there’s
been a stranger lurking around here, we’d surely have known it.”

Izzy lifted the edge of Nell’s blanket and rubbed it against her cheek, as if feeling
her baby wrapped up in it. The tiny seed stitches were soft against her skin. “Did
Tommy mention if they’d questioned Franklin Danvers?”

Birdie frowned. “Franklin . . . ? That’s a little like questioning the mayor or pope,
isn’t it?”

“He thought Justin was bothering Tamara—and Tamara confirmed it. She said he frightened
her.”

Birdie frowned. “Justin may have been many things, but frightening wasn’t one of them.”

“Izzy has a point. She said Justin
touched
her. That would make any husband upset. And Franklin is ferocious these days when
it comes to protecting his pregnant wife,” Nell said. “Franklin complained to the
chief when Tommy didn’t arrest Justin that day on the beach.”

Izzy’s needles clicked away as she talked. She’d finished the booties and was on to
a tiny hat, tissue soft and with a wide brim to protect the baby from the sun. “That
was silly for Franklin to be so upset. Kind of stupid for Justin to go surfing there,
I guess, but still, all the kids do it.”

“Including yourself,” Nell said with a smile.

Izzy laughed. “Tamara said Justin came on to her, but of all the things we’ve heard
about him, that one just doesn’t seem right. I truly can’t imagine him coming on to
Tamara Danvers.”

“So you think she made it up?” Cass asked.

But why she’d do that was a mystery. “Unless,” Cass answered herself, “she wanted
Franklin to think he had. Who knows? Sometimes people do silly things. Maybe jealous
husbands buy more jewelry.”

“I think that explanation makes more sense,” Nell said. “I don’t mean to call her
a liar, but sometimes she might exaggerate a bit.”

“We’re pummeling poor Tommy with questions,” Cass said, “and while we’re doing that,
we’re skipping directly over him.”

“Who?”

“Tommy,” Cass said. “I know—all of us know—that Tommy Porter is the nicest guy around.
But he also wanted Justin Dorsey gone from here. Maybe more than any of the others.
He hated the way he was screwing with Janie’s life. He had a beer with Danny the other
night, and Danny said he was almost obsessed with the guy.”

The silence that followed was sobering, as truth often was. Tommy Porter loved Janie,
a fact that was clear to every one of them. But his relationship with Janie had been
strained by Justin Dorsey’s entry into it. And there didn’t seem to be much he could
do about it.

Finally Birdie spoke again. “So our list of people grows,” she said. “But so do the
questions. Where was he, who did he talk to that week before he was killed? The day
before he was killed? Was he bothered about something? Why did Martin dislike him
so? Did he steal from him?”

“Yes!” Nell said suddenly. “Martin Seltzer said exactly that yesterday. He said Justin
was a thief, that he took things that weren’t his.”

“So what was it? Janie doesn’t seem to know. I wonder who does. Maybe we could pry
something out of Henrietta. She seems to be chumming up nicely to the doctor,” Cass
said. “I suppose the police are asking these same questions, but they might not realize
that this has to be resolved so baby Perry can be born.”

“Maybe because we know Justin a little better—we certainly saw plenty of him the week
before he was killed—our questions will be slightly different,” Nell said.

“And we liked him,” Izzy said. “That brings a different perspective to it. Somehow
I feel the answer to all this is right in front of us. So close that it’s frightening.”

“Certainly the police care as deeply about finding the killer as we do,” Birdie said.
“But they don’t knit. They don’t look at patterns like we do.”

Nell looked down at her baby blanket and gently touched the tiny seed stitches with
the tip of her finger. “They might not see connections the way we do, the loose threads,
the surprising way that sometimes a sweater design comes together before your very
eyes, but at first you can’t see it.”

“Yes,” Izzy jumped in, warming to the analogy. “So you keep on frogging where you
have to, reworking rows. You just need to keep on knitting, and then, voilà! There
it is.”

You just need to keep on knitting
. Nell picked up her cable needle and began to slip the next group of stitches onto
it. She imagined the baby, bundled in the warmth of the soft yarn, tucked in his stroller
as Izzy ran behind him over the smooth sand. Carefree. Something that was sorely missing
in their lives right now. No one was taking early walks or runs on Paley’s Cove. Not
alone. Not now. Not until a murderer had a face and was securely behind bars.

The opening of the veranda’s doors was followed by a breeze and flurry of black hair
as Gabby rushed out. She carried a bowl of chicken salad. Behind her, Ella balanced
a tray full of plates, forks, and sweet-smelling corn bread.

“I thought you were out and about,” Birdie said, smiling up into Gabby’s face.

“I
was
out and about.” Gabby gave Birdie a quick kiss and grinned hellos to each of them.
She set the bowl down and glanced at Ella, then laughed. “Okay, I’ll come clean. Ella
knows all my secrets. She told me she’d hold back some of the chicken salad and save
it for me, so I came back for it. She’s amazing, she puts capers and olives and avocados
in it. How cool is that?”

“Great. So you’ll stay and eat with us?” Cass scooted over on the chaise. “Come sit,
twerp.”

“Nope. Not today, Cass. Ella packed up some salad and corn bread for me, and I’m taking
it to my friends.”

“Which friends?” Birdie began spooning the salad onto plates.

But instead of an answer, she got a breezy hug and a grin. Gabby moved toward the
door. “Oh, no, you don’t, Nonna. No getting secrets out of me. It’s a surprise. But
wait, here’s a clue.” She paused and held up one finger in the air. “I got a new hat
today.” Then she wrinkled up her nose until the freckles danced, gave another wave,
and was gone, her doelike body sailing through the door, singing something about cowboys,
her voice full and happy.

“We need a dash of that,” Nell said, watching her through the window doors. “Gabby
knows how to handle life.”

“And death, maybe,” Birdie said. “She has an uncanny way of dealing with it.”

Nell passed around the basket of warm corn bread. Beyond them, out in the harbor,
horns were blowing, vying with the gulls for airtime. And farther out in the open
sea, a parade of sailboats moved gracefully in the breeze.

“How did it happen that Justin went on that dive?” Cass asked, picking up the conversation.
“What did he do that Saturday before?”

They all thought back one week, one short week. A lifetime ago.

“Janie moved the last of her things into the apartment that day,” Izzy said. “And
Justin was there, then borrowed her car. But we don’t know what he did before or after
she banished him.”

“He called me,” Birdie said. “And after that, he met with someone. A ‘business transaction.’”

“And later, he came to the Ocean’s Edge,” Nell said. “And brought along a roll of
bills.”

“You said he was talking to Tyler at the bar?” Birdie said.

Nell nodded. “And there seemed to be more to their conversation than just a friendly
hello. He was telling him something.”

“Tyler was a part of the dive group,” Cass said. “Maybe they were coordinating or
Justin was asking for a ride, or whatever.”

“No, he had Janie’s car. But maybe he needed a place to stay?” Izzy suggested.

The thought of Justin spending time under Esther Gibson’s roof somehow made them all
laugh.

While they were enjoying the scenario, Ella came out to collect the salad plates and
announced that Chief Jerry Thompson was in the front hallway, looking fine and handsome
in his uniform.

Would Birdie like her to serve coffee and lemon bars while they all chatted?