Death by Cashmere (27 page)

Stella's face colored, a deep, sunburned red that spread from her neck to the top of her head. "Belonged to?" she choked.

"Which guest wore it," Nell said. "It was so beautiful, I wondered where she got it."

"Got it?" Stella repeated.

Nell noticed tiny beads of perspiration on the waitress's forehead and regretted cornering her while she was on duty. She seemed distraught. "Stella, please, don't worry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"You won't tell Miz Framingham, will you? She wouldn't let us come back if she knew we tried things on."

"Oh, Stella, it's not a big deal," Izzy said. "I used to work those summer parties when I was your age, and we did the same darn thing."

"And Izzy never got fired, sweetie, so don't worry."

"So--so you won't tell what I did?" Stella stammered.

"Of course not. I just thought if you remembered who wore that gorgeous cashmere wrap, I could talk to her about it. Find out where she got it. Never mentioning you, of course." Nell looked at the teenager with a look she hoped would engender trust. "It's very important to me, Stella."

But Stella didn't seem convinced. She fidgeted and pawed her small paper pad into a damp wad. Finally, her eyes focused on her sandals, she mumbled, "A guest. How would I know who?"

Then, without looking at Nell or Izzy, Stella spun around and hustled over to see if Tony Framingham or his friends would like more coffee, never looking back.

"Now, that's downright weird." Izzy bunched her hands on her hips and watched Stella cross the room.

"Stella doesn't seem the type to be flustered over such a little thing. If that was the worst thing you ever did all those summers you spent with Ben and me, Izzy, I would have lit vigil lights at Our Lady of the Seas in thanksgiving."

Izzy laughed. "Someday I'll fess all, Aunt Nell. But not now. Now is for getting back to the shop. Cass is actually working on her mom's shawl and I told her I'd help with the shoulder shaping. What are you up to today?"

Nell waved at Ben and Sam, who had come in from the deck with car keys in hand, carrying both their purses. What was on her schedule? She had a long list of things to do. A talk to prepare for the arts council in Gloucester. Boxes of flowers she had picked up at the market that needed immediate planting. Bills to pay and e-mails to return. A short article she was writing on grant applications and several birthday gifts to wrap for mailing. She turned back to Izzy.

"I think I'll take some pots of marigolds over to Josie Archer. I bought too many, as always, and I'm sure she could use some color on her front porch."

Josie Archer lived in a small square house on the edge of town, close to the bridge that separated Cape Ann from the rest of Massachusetts. Josie was one of those Cape Ann residents who claimed she never set foot over that bridge. It wasn't true, of course. Nell knew that for a fact because she and Ben had driven Josie to Angie's graduation from Simmons College in Boston. Josie had sat in the front row of the auditorium, prouder than a parent had a right to be, she told Nell and Ben. She had insisted they leave a chair empty for Ted, so wherever he was, he would join them in spirit to see his beautiful daughter receive her diploma.

But for the most part, Josie did, indeed, stay close to home. She and Ted had lived in this Sea Harbor neighborhood all their married life. Willow Road was a pleasant, modest street, home to neighbors who knew one another and who stopped by the grocery store for milk and bread if someone was sick. It was a perfect place for Josie to live, Nell thought, but far too confining to have held the free-spirited Angie. Her teenage years spent in this close-knit neighborhood and tiny house must have been a challenge for Josie. And certainly a challenge for Angie as well.

Nell pulled into Josie's driveway and got out of her car. She knew several people who lived on Willow Road--one of Archie's sales clerks had just redone the white cottage on the corner, and Janelle Harrow, who cut Nell's hair, lived directly across from Josie.

Josie was in good hands, Nell thought. If she was lonely or needed someone to talk to, all she'd need to do was walk out her front door.

Nell took the clay flowerpots from her trunk and walked up the steps to the neat front porch. She set the pots down, but before she had a chance to knock, Josie swung the door open.

"I've been waiting for you ever since you called, Nell. What beautiful marigolds." Josie bent over and touched the bright blooms. "These are exactly what this plain little porch needs." She set one pot at each side of the steps. "Now, get yourself in here, Nell, and let's visit."

Josie wore a flowered blouse and yellow linen slacks that were slightly baggy through the hips. She had lost weight these weeks, Nell could see. She should have brought food instead of flowers, but she could certainly do that next week. Or maybe she could convince Josie to come for a Friday dinner on the deck. Sometimes grief required alone time, but eating with friends might help the healing.

"I've made us some tea," Josie said, ushering Nell into the living room off the entryway. The room was clean and neat, with the couch pillows plumped up for company. And all around the room--on the bookshelves and mantel, the side tables and hanging on the rose-colored walls--were family photographs.

Josie noticed Nell looking at the photos. She smiled. "My Ted and my Angelina. They were so much alike. Sometimes I felt like the outsider--their feelings and thoughts were lined up like two peas in a pod." Josie pointed to a framed photo on the mantel of Angie and her dad. "He took her everywhere when she was little. Angie missed him so--but they're finally together. Now, come sit, Nell, and tell me about you," Josie said. She pointed to the couch.

Nell sat against the velvet cushions in front of an oval-shaped coffee table, and Josie took a chair opposite her. On the table was a tray with a plastic pitcher of tea, two tall glasses, and a bowl of sliced lemons.

Josie poured Nell a tall glass of tea. A plate of sugar cookies sat next to the tea, and Josie had set out two lace napkins, one for each of them, with a tiny A embroidered in the corner of each.

Nell could see new, deep lines in Josie's face, and her faded red hair was streaked with gray. But her smile was warm and her eyes soft and sincere.
Josie will survive even this,
Nell thought.
The most difficult thing a mother can ever face, the murder of her child.

"How is Ben?" Josie asked. "Ted thought the world of that man. His parents, too. The Endicotts were such good folks."

"They thought the same of the Archers, Josie. Your Ted helped Ben and his parents out of many jams--leaky roofs, frozen pipes. Ted could do anything."

Josie sipped her tea and smiled over the curl of steam, the good memories playing across her face. "When Ted lost his job out at the factory, Ben Endicott and the good Lord saved his life."

"How was that, Josie?"

"Ted was depressed. No job, not much money. Angie was young, and I was pregnant with her baby brother."

"I didn't know that, Josie."

"You didn't live up here permanently those days," Josie said. "I suppose that's why, because everyone knew. It just wasn't meant to be. I got sick, and Ted insisted on staying home to be with me. I knew he shouldn't have--they needed him at work. He didn't have vacation. But he wouldn't hear of it, and when he went back to work, his job was gone."

"And the baby?"

"The good Lord took him. It was God's will, though Ted didn't see it that way. He was sure that losing his job made me lose the baby. Of course it wasn't true, Nell."

"I'm so sorry. You've suffered more than your share of loss, Josie."

"We're given what we can handle."

"Well, you are an inspiration. The whole town is distraught over Angie."

Josie set her cup down in the saucer. Her eyes looked intently at Nell. "I don't think it's my place to always understand the Lord's ways. But my Angelina--why anyone would ever want to harm my baby is something I won't ever understand."

"None of us understand that, Josie. It's an awful thing."

"It was a gift when Angelina came back home. She wasn't going to be here long--she told me that when she came back--but she was here for a while, anyway, and she stopped by almost every day."

"She was leaving again?" Nell asked. Coming from Angie's mother, the rumors and innuendoes that had been circulating the past days took substance. Apparently Angie
had
been planning to leave Sea Harbor--but she hadn't shared it with her employer or her landlord, or even close friends like Pete, as far as Nell knew.

"She was going back to Boston. The college had offered her a job. Imagine, my Angelina, working at a college." Josie leaned forward and picked up a bound leather book from the coffee table. She handed it to Nell. "Angelina's master's thesis," she said proudly. "She had a copy bound for me so I could put it on my coffee table."

Nell ran her hand over the pebbled leather surface. She felt that tinge of regret again, that there was so much about Angie she hadn't taken the time to know. She looked down at the title: "Research Methodologies in Land Deeds: Use and Misuse."

Josie smiled at the book. "Angelina loved the history of land. She was intrigued with the early days of Cape Ann and this enormous pile of rock that we built our lives on. Even when she was young, she loved all that, but it became a passion when she went off to college. She'd come home for holidays and go snooping around the museum and the courthouse, looking up deeds and things. I told her those old papers made me sneeze, and she would laugh. She said it wasn't just old paper. It was people's lives."

"That explains why she liked her job at the museum."

"Oh, yes." Josie nodded and handed the cookie plate to Nell. "But it wasn't a permanent job. She was working on that exhibit for Nancy and when it ended, she would leave. She was moving back to Boston in a week or so." Josie picked up one of the embroidered napkins and wiped the corners of her mouth. "A week or so," she repeated.

Nell could read the "if only" in Josie's mind. But she wouldn't say it out loud, Nell knew. If this had been preordained, she would somehow accept it and bury her "what ifs" and "if onlys" in her faith.

"Angelina asked me if I'd like to move with her," Josie said, her voice lifting slightly. "I think she meant it, too, but she knew I wouldn't leave Ted's house."

"But it was a lovely thought," Nell said.

"Yes." Josie offered a small laugh. "A sweet gesture. But no matter, I couldn't have lived with Angelina, as much as I loved her. She saw the world differently than I did. She was so much like her father. People were good or bad. You did right or wrong. Such clear lines. I told her life wasn't like that, not black and white. That's why we had confession, to acknowledge weaknesses. God forgives, I told her. But she would have none of it. And she couldn't forgive. Not ever."

Nell watched the emotions play across Josie's face. And at that moment Nell knew that Josie Archer would find a way to forgive her own daughter's murderer. No matter what. "Josie, I hope you will call me if you need anything. And Ben, too."

"Oh, Nell, of course I will. You were always so good to my daughter. And Izzy, too. Angelina loved that little apartment of Izzy's. She always wanted to live at the edge of the sea, and thanks to you two, she got her wish. I think her time here was very special to her."

Nell nodded. She was glad Josie could see it that way. What Nell saw was that the time in Sea Harbor--and whatever that time held for Angie--in some way led to her death. And that wasn't special. It was tragic. She stood and collected her glass and napkin, setting them back on the tray. She gathered her bag and looked again at the pictures lined up along the top of the mantel. It was a timeline of Angie's life in small, framed photographs--Angie as a baby; Angie without her two front teeth, sitting proudly on her father's lap; Angie holding up a shell at Good Harbor Beach.

Josie came up beside her. "I love looking at these. The memories are such a salve for my soul. Everyone isn't so blessed, you know, with such a wonderful family, such amazing, loving memories."

Nell swallowed hard. What a remarkable woman. She concentrated on the photos to hold back a rush of emotion that tightened her throat. There was one at the yacht club--a group of gangly kids in swimsuits standing with arms wrapped around one another. She spotted Izzy in the front and Angie standing tall in the back, her red hair making her easy to see. "The summer swim team," she said aloud.

"Angelina was a strong swimmer. Ted saw to that. 'Can't live by the sea and not be a swimmer,' he told her."

Nell moved on. The high school pictures showed Angie in school plays, receiving an award, and there was one shot of a group of young people in formal dress.

Josie picked up the picture. "Prom court," she said proudly. "Angie was on the court."

Nell looked closely. There was a king and queen in the center of the photo, and several attendants. Angie stood just behind the queen, her red hair floating around her shoulders. Her expression was of discomfort. A somber look.

"Angelina didn't like things like dances, big school events, but she loved to dress up. So when she was elected to the prom court, she reluctantly agreed to go." Josie shook her head. "I remember it so clearly. It wasn't her best night."

Nell looked again at the picture. She recognized the queen, a sweet gal whose family lived on Sandswept Lane. She looked at the young man with the crown on his head. "Isn't that Tony Framingham?"

Josie nodded. "And that was the problem that night. Tony Framingham. At first Angie refused to be in the picture, but they made her--told her it would look strange in the yearbook if she wasn't in it. What would they say in the caption?"

Nell looked at Tony's broad smile and black hair. "Tony was a problem? Was he Angie's boyfriend?"