Death by Cashmere (29 page)

"Amazing color," Birdie said, reaching over and touching the cloud-soft fiber.

Izzy smiled. "I love it. Come in tomorrow and I'll find some for you, Birdie. A soft winter hat to pull over your ears." She lifted her brows into slivers of bangs that spiked across her forehead. "Or perhaps for Angus?"

Birdie laughed and leaned forward to pour wine all around. "Now, about Mary's shawl?" She looked over the top of her glasses at Cass.

Cass took a swallow of wine and set her glass down, pulling her backpack out from behind the chair. "I brought it, Birdie, so don't panic. But before you all start offering me advice on the neckline or lace edging or how to finish the seams, let's talk business. "

Nell pulled out her needles and a ball of camel-colored alpaca and began to cast on for a throw. She had made the same pattern at least a half-dozen times--but it was a perfect project when she didn't want to count and worry about dropped stitches. And a perfect elegant gift for anyone who lived through cold New England winters. "Cass is right," she said. "We've got catching up to do, a puzzle to solve."

"Murders," Izzy corrected. The harsh word hung out there in the middle of the room, quieting the group for a moment.

"The police are pretty much through with it," Cass said, breaking the quiet. "Tommy Porter told Pete it was all wrapped up--George Gideon killed Angie. And Gideon was killed by a hit-and-run. And the town's safe again at last."

"Does Pete believe that?"

"None of it. But he's so relieved they're leaving him alone that he doesn't say much. And I think he's finally starting to come back to life."

"Time will help," Birdie said.

"Time and Angie's mother."

"Josie?" said Nell.

Cass took a bite of bruschetta and chewed it slowly. "That sweet woman--in the middle of all her grief--she called Pete and thanked him for making Angie happy the last few weeks of her life. Angie told her wonderful things about Pete, she said. I think it was the best present anyone could have given him. With all the rumors floating around that Angie was using him, or playing with his emotions, or that she was seeing other guys on the side, he was beginning to wilt away. He needed his good memories of Angie back to help him deal with her death, but people were trying to rip them to shreds." Cass paused. She pushed her hair back from her face and fastened it with a band. Her cheeks were flushed with emotion and her dark eyes were sad. She looked around at the group. "But, you know, he really cared about her. And I think she cared about him, too. No matter what I may have said in the past, I'm happy about that."

"Bless Josie," Nell said.

Cass nodded. "Right."

"That rumor of her dating Tony is definitely an urban legend. Tony was never a threat to Pete."

"People saw them together," Birdie said.

"Yes, but it wasn't for pleasure." Nell repeated the conversation she'd had that afternoon.

"Hate is a pretty strong word," Izzy said. "Angie
hated
Tony?"

Nell nodded. "Reading between the lines, I think Ted Archer had no use for the whole Framingham family, and Angie adored her dad. What he thought, she thought. Josie was far more forgiving. "

"I remember when Ted Archer lost his job," Birdie said. "It was sad. The company needed to save some money, and they did it ruthlessly. The Archers had been a part of the Framingham company forever--Ted's grandfather and dad worked in the quarries--and when the quarries closed and they opened their plant, Ted stayed with them. He'd been there so long that he was paid more than the other managers, so it made good financial sense to let him go. They used his absence as an excuse."

"That's horrible. A man with a child, a sick and pregnant wife."

"Ted thought so, too," Birdie said. "He was quite vocal in his dislike for the family--Ben will tell you as much, Nell. His parents spent a lot of time up here during that time and they stepped right in and gave Ted work. He did carpentry work for us, too. And others followed, feeling bad for the unfortunate treatment he got. But Ted always felt violated, somehow. And he had already started to drink to ease the pain. Truth be known, I think that's what killed him."

"How could Angie have blamed his death on the Framinghams? " Cass asked.

"Maybe they were kind of a secondary cause, at least in Angie's mind," Izzy said.

The group fell silent and Ella brought up the heated tureen of soup. The smell of fresh oregano and thyme rose up with the steam and filled the room.

Ella set it on a hot plate on a side table along with bowls. "Help yourselves, ladies," she said. "I kept a taste back for Harold and me." Ella slipped out the door and they heard the fading sound of her slippers on the steps.

"She's superstitious," Birdie explained. "It's good luck to wear slippers in the summer or some such thing."

"Maybe we could all use a pair of slippers," Cass said.

Nell walked over to the tureen and began scooping the creamy soup into bowls. Large chunks of crab meat floated in the pungent broth and sprigs of parsley, sliced onion, and broccoli added color to the mix.

"I talked to Archie Brandley at the party last night," Birdie said. "He's happy Sam has moved into Angie's place."

"Along with the rest of us," Nell said.

"He thinks Angie had an ax to grind here, and that's why she came back."

Nell listened carefully. She was convinced of that. And that reason was enough to get her killed.

"That would explain the fact that she never intended to stay," Izzy said.

"But she didn't realize the danger in whatever it was she was doing."

"Or maybe she did and didn't care," Cass offered. She got up to refill her bowl.

"So whatever it was threatened someone so terribly that he needed Angie dead."

"And Gideon knew about it," Izzy said.

"I think Gideon saw the whole thing. He didn't kill Angie-- he'd have had no reason to do that. But he was at the breakwater-- people have already come forth saying they saw him headed that way."

"He was headed down that way to steal the lobsters," Cass added.

Nell nodded. "He was probably down on the ledge where he couldn't be seen. He seemed to have mastered his side job. Maybe he didn't know Angie died, not until it hit the news. But he could have put two and two together," Nell said.

"So he may have been blackmailing someone," Izzy said.

Cass nodded. "That makes sense. And whoever he was blackmailing killed Angie. And that someone was . . ."

"Angie wanted to hurt Tony. That may be an important part of this," Birdie said.

"And then there's Sal." Nell filled them in on the conversation with Nancy. "It's quite odd. When I went over to the county offices, Sal acted like he hardly knew Angie, which wasn't at all true. And the phone call Nancy got adds more mystery to it."

"He loved her, according to Rachel Wooten," Izzy asked.

The four women pondered the thought of Sal Scaglia and Angie while finishing off their soup. "It's hard to imagine Sal in the position of a Romeo. I don't know," Birdie said. "He's so shy."

"What is it they say about the shy ones?" Cass asked. "Still waters. Aren't they the ones to be careful of?"

"What if Sal told Angie how he felt about her? And Sal was afraid she would tell Beatrice?" Izzy said.

"Beatrice's wrath would be awful to face," Nell said. If Sal was bothering Angie, and she threatened to tell Beatrice, it could make Sal's life awful. But murder?

"I think Sal is hiding something," Birdie said. "We need to find out what." Later, after the soup tureen was bone dry and Ella's key lime pie had disappeared, Birdie suggested a cup of decaf before they all headed home.

Izzy stretched her arms and slipped her knitting back into her bag. "I think I may skip the coffee, Birdie," she said. At that moment her purse jingled, and she reached in for her phone, checking the number. She frowned, then checked her watch. "It's Sam--and it's late. I hope Purl is all right--"

Izzy clicked on the phone, said hello, and then fell silent.

Nell read her expression as it moved from curiosity to surprise to dismay. "We'll be right there, Sam," she said, and snapped her phone closed.

"It's Angus," Izzy said. "He came to the apartment above the shop disoriented, looking for Angie. And then his body folded up, and he collapsed on the floor right at Sam's feet."

By the time they reached the Beverly Hospital, Angus had been admitted to the intensive-care unit and hooked up to monitors and tubes. Sam and Ben stood outside the swinging doors, their faces drawn and fingers wrapped around paper cups of cold coffee.

"Ben had just stopped by the apartment to invite me out for a beer," Sam explained.

"Angus came up the back steps, mumbling something we couldn't understand," Ben continued. "His face was ashen, and he was asking for Angie. But before we could get him to sit down, he collapsed right at Sam's feet."

"The medics arrived in minutes. Heart attack, they said. And a bad one."

Nell looked through the pane of glass separating them from the still figure. Angus lay unmoving against the white sheets. He looked peaceful, she thought. But the tubes connecting him up to machines told a different story.

Nurses scurried back and forth, checking vital signs and the sacks of liquids hanging from metal posts. Finally a woman in a white jacket pushed through the doors and smiled at them. "Are you here for Mr. McPherron?" she asked.

They nodded and moved to a small alcove of seats, where the doctor explained that the next twenty-four hours were the most critical.

"But I think you all should leave. There isn't anything you can do, and he needs his uninterrupted sleep more than anything."

"But you will call?" Nell asked.

"Of course." The doctor looked down at the chart to check her notes, then back at the group. "We found an envelope in his pocket with an address crossed off and
Favazza, One Ocean View Drive
scribbled in. Is that the correct address?"

Birdie lifted her hand. "That's my name and my home. Angus is staying with me for a while. There isn't any other family."

The doctor nodded. "Then you will be our contact, Ms. Favazza. "

"That's fine," Birdie said, brushing a trace of moisture off her cheek.

The doctor checked a message on her pager, then disappeared, her heels echoing along the white-walled hallway.

Birdie got up and walked back to the window in the door. She stood up on her toes, peering through the window and spoke to no one in particular. "I'm not going anywhere until I know the old guy is out of the woods." She looked back at the group, huddled in a semicircle behind her, and pulled her gray brows together in a stern look. "But you go on--all of you. Scat. I'll call if there's a change."

There was no arguing with Birdie, and every single one of them knew it.

"Birdie's right," Ben said. "She'll call us with news, and we can't do anything here but get in the way."

They hugged Birdie good-bye, then headed out into the summer night. Ben climbed into Nell's car, and Cass and Izzy followed Sam to his Volvo. With promises to spread news as soon as it arrived, the two cars pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed home.

Ben and Nell drove in weary silence, their mutual thoughts not needing expression. A short while later, they drove up the hill of their sleeping neighborhood and into the garage at 22 Sandswept Lane. "We've been up after midnight two nights in a row," Ben said. "Think we'll make it, Nellie?"

"I think we will," Nell said. "The question is, will Angus McPherron?"

Birdie called Nell early the next morning to report that there hadn't been any change. Angus was still alive. And that was about all the doctors would say. Harold had picked her up and taken her home to shower and get a few things done. She'd go back to the hospital later.

Nell knew there was nothing she or Ben could do. Just wait. And hope that the phone would ring. Her day was full--but nothing that she couldn't drop in a second if Angus needed them.

A long shower brought life back into her bones, and after a quick cup of coffee with Ben, she drove down to the village to give Izzy an update on Angus--and then over to a committee meeting at the museum.

The Seaside Knitting Studio was bustling with customers when Nell walked in, but Izzy wasn't anywhere in sight.

"You won't find her here, Nell," Mae said, speaking over the head of a customer. A curious smile lit the sales clerk's face.

"Is she sick, Mae?"

"Maybe so. She sure doesn't do this when she's feeling normal, " Mae said. "Prying her out of here is harder than nails out of granite." Mae's words lacked most R's and Nell held back a smile. Ben lapsed into Boston-speak sometimes, too, but years of schooling and traveling had softened the effect. Mae's dialogue held a bright tough color that Nell loved.

"So where is she, Mae?"

"Took the day off," Mae said, relieving the next customer of an armful of yarn that she was cradling like a newborn.

"On a Monday?" Nell asked.

"I know--miracles happen. This one's name happens to be Sam." Mae waved at a group of regulars who were on their way into the back room to knit and gossip.

"What's up?"

"Sam wanted to explore those old quarries on the Framingham land--see if it'd be a good place to take his class for a photo shoot."

"That's a great idea. What made Izzy decide to go?"

"She called Tony and asked him if he'd show Sam around, but he had some business meeting. So he told Izzy to go ahead and show Sam where the trails were. Seems she and Tony used to sneak their friends in at night to swim in the quarry pools when they were teenagers."

"There's a reason we don't know those things while they're happening," Nell said. The quarries were beautiful for photo ops--but very deep for night swimming and teenage antics. "Margarethe would have had a heart attack if she'd known they did things like that."