The Bee Balm Murders (14 page)

Orion looked for a recycling container, didn’t see one, and left his empty bottle on the table. “I think we know who the bad guy is. Might as well continue to monitor my calls. Only my landline, not my cell?”

Waverley, still seated, nodded slightly.

“She paid you yet?” asked Orion.

“A retainer.”

“Has the check cleared the bank?”

“Cashier’s check.”

Orion nodded. “Better collect what she owes you before you let it go too long. She pay your rent?”

“Yes.”

“I’d make sure she does, if I were you, since your name’s on the lease.” He stopped at the door and turned. “You can have the rest of the beer.”

*   *   *

On Wednesday, Dorothy’s chauffeur met Finney’s flight, direct from New York. A cool breeze whispered through the fence as the attendant opened the gate. Finney was the only passenger to disembark.

Tim greeted him. “Morning, sir. Want to stop at the Mansion House before going on to Ms. Roche’s?”

“Please,” said Finney.

“Any luggage, sir?”

Finney held up his gym bag and attaché case. “Short trip.”

“We’re parked right over there.” Tim indicated the Mercedes near the gate. “Have a good flight, sir?”

“Fine,” said Finney, preoccupied with his expenses.

“Nice weather we’ve been having,” Tim said as they drove away from the airport. He looked in the rearview mirror. “You don’t get weather like this in Boston in July. Hot and steamy there, according to the radio.”

“Umph,” said Finney, and Tim shut up.

At the Mansion House, Finney registered for one night, went to his room and washed up, and took a manila folder out of his briefcase. He checked his image in the large mirror by the door, turning sideways to see how he’d appear to Dorothy from that angle, then went down the stairs and out onto the hotel’s porch. Tim was parked across Main Street and opened the passenger door. Finney got in.

They drove the familiar route to Edgartown, past the shipyard, the fuel oil tanks, the canoe rental place. They crossed the bridge over the opening into Lagoon Pond, past the hospital, and past the Oak Bluffs Harbor.

Wild roses formed a fragrant pink, red, and white border on either side of State Road. It was still early in the morning, but cars already were parked on the beach side of the road. Bathers and sun worshippers unloaded coolers and umbrellas, picnic baskets, radios, and towels.

Edgartown was scented with roses. Yellow, pink, and white blossoms covered white picket fences in front of white painted captains’ houses.

They turned onto North Water Street, and Finney’s resentment rose. Why couldn’t she have invited him to stay at her place? She certainly had enough room.

“Here we are, sir.” Tim opened the door. Finney emerged, too busy with his thoughts to acknowledge Tim. He went up to the big front door and lifted the brass knocker.

“Darling! I didn’t expect you so soon. How was the flight? Have you had breakfast?”

“An easy flight, thanks. I didn’t have time to eat.”

“Well, we’ll take care of that right away.” She led him down the front hall and into the library where a wide window overlooked the garden. A couch and two comfortable armchairs faced a fireplace at the other end. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the walls.

“I’ll ask Courtney to get us something to eat, and while she’s fixing it, we can talk.” Dorothy bustled out of the room. Finney stood by one of the bookcases, examining the titles. The books, most of them leather bound, included fiction, biographies, and scientific treatises on obscure subjects. They were arranged by size, not by subject.

He barely had time to glance at the books when Dorothy returned. “There, now. Make yourself comfortable, darling.”

“Impressive library,” said Finney.

“I’m glad you like it.” She seated herself in one of the armchairs and Finney sat across from her in the other. She said, “How are the prospects with the financiers?”

Finney patted his folder. “Only a matter of time.”

“We don’t have much time, Finney. Have you impressed upon them the importance of our project?”

“They understand. But as you well know, those of us with money have it because we’re careful with it. Orion has the contract, but hasn’t signed it yet.”

Dorothy smiled. “Are you sure he should sign it?”

Finney shifted uncomfortably in the soft chair. “I don’t know. I called the references you suggested, and, well…” He left the sentence unfinished.

“Since I’m his partner, I ought to be able to sign.”

“It requires his signature, I’m afraid.”

Dorothy pouted. “What was your impression after talking with the references?”

This was an area in which Finney felt more comfortable. “The answers I got were guarded, naturally. The head of Public Works said he didn’t want to talk about Nanopoulos, and the selectman claimed Orion was, to quote him, ‘out of his mind.’”

“Oh dear,” said Dorothy, clasping her hands under her chin. “I was afraid of that. Poor Orion has been under such stress. I had a feeling he might even be suicidal.”

“Really!”

“Such a shame. He’s such a bright man.”

Finney cleared his throat. “I’ve decided I need to remain on the Island for a few more days.” Now was the time Dorothy could offer to let him stay in her house.

“Good idea,” said Dorothy.

Finney cleared his throat again. “I thought of trying a bed-and-breakfast, getting to know the Island.”

“I’m not sure that’s where you’ll find the investors. But you know best.” She frowned. “Do you have any thoughts about this deplorable situation?”

“You mean about Orion?”

She nodded.

“It’s clear that he must step aside,” said Finney. “Away from the stress that’s driving him so, so…”

“You needn’t go on. It’s too pitiful.”

“I think we’re on the same page, Dorothy. I believe you should talk to Orion.”

She nodded.

“For his own health,” said Finney. “We’ll be custodians until he can take over again.”

“You’re so perceptive.” Dorothy looked up at the sound of the wheeled cart coming down the hall. “Here comes our breakfast. You must be starving.”

*   *   *

While Finney and Dorothy were plotting against him, Orion was waiting in line for the three-car ferry to take him over to Chappaquiddick to meet with Roger Paulson.

The ferry docked, the chain was lowered, and Orion drove on board, the first car. The captain slid wooden chocks in front of his tires, collected his fare, and headed out across the harbor. Through his windshield, Orion had a disconcerting view of open water.

“Pretty rough today,” he called out to the captain.

“Since the ocean cut through, the current’s unpredictable. May take five minutes to cross.”

“Using more fuel?”

“You got it.”

They angled into the slip on the Chappy side and Orion drove off the ferry. He found his way to the gate to Paulson’s property, and was buzzed in.

As he drove down the long approach to Paulson’s mansion, he noticed two stocky, reddish bay horses with light muzzles and upright manes cropping the pasture grass. He slowed to look more closely. The horses had stripes on their legs, almost like zebras.

He drove slowly, thinking about the horses. He parked and Paulson greeted him from the top of his stairway.

“Fine car you’ve got there,” said Paulson.

Orion patted the side of his Chevy. “It’s been good to me. I understand you know cars.”

“Largest distributorship on the East Coast. C’mon up.” Paulson indicated the stairs.

“Impressive,” said Orion, looking up at the high roof. “Both the distributorship and your house. You’ve put a lot of work into both, that’s obvious.”

“I started at the bottom, washing cars at a dealer’s. Worked my way up,” said Paulson, leading the way into the kitchen. “Put in eighteen-hour days, seven days a week.”

“You deserve this.” Orion gestured with his hand.

“Sit down,” said Paulson. “Your partner says you’re not interested in releasing voting rights. I have to tell you, if I’m shelling out seven million, I want a say in how the company’s run.”

“Understandable,” said Orion. “I took the same route you did, shoveling stable manure, grooming horses, sweeping floors in an engineering firm, and hitting the books at night school. Twenty-four/seven.”

“You like horses?” asked Paulson.

“I do,” Orion said.

“Got a couple of my own out there.” Paulson gestured to the pasture where the horses stood, nose to tail.

“They’re beauties,” Orion said. “Przewalskis.”

“You do know horses.” Paulson grinned. “Not many people recognize them. Most are in zoos.”

“Horses were my first love.”

“Not anymore?”

“I took a few too many falls,” said Orion. “It’s a young man’s profession.” The horses broke apart and trotted out of sight. “Let me ask you this, Paulson. In your business, have you given investors a say in your company?”

“Hell, no.”

Orion smiled. “We think alike. I understand you had some dealings with Angelo Vulpone.”

Paulson stood up and went to the window. “My dealings with Vulpone have led me to be cautious. Damned cautious.”

“I understand he was responsible for your wife’s—”

“Stop!” said Paulson. He turned and sat down again, his face dark with barely controlled rage.

Orion moved away from the subject of Angelo Vulpone. “Universal Fiber will be a moneymaker.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Paulson folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not interested in making money. I’m interested in running your company.” He looked at his watch.

Orion noticed and stood. “I’ve taken up enough time.”

“I was checking to see how close to lunchtime it is. Care to join me? We’ll talk about horses, not business.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got to go.” Orion offered his hand and Paulson stood again and they shook. “Pleasure meeting you and a delight to see, in the flesh, the horses depicted in those ancient cave paintings.”

“Keep my offer in mind. I’ll be a lot easier to work with than Angelo Vulpone ever would have been, guaranteed.”

C
HAPTER
19

The following afternoon, Thursday, Orion arrived at Dorothy’s a deliberate half-hour late. Dorothy was waiting for him at the front door.

“Darling, you’re late, bad boy!” She was wearing black velvet trousers and a low-cut, long-sleeved silk blouse.

A scent wafted toward Orion, conjuring up a field of wildflowers, a girl running toward him.

Pheromones, Victoria had said. Chemical bewitchment.

“Come in, darling,” she murmured.

They moved from the foyer into the library, and there, sitting by the fireplace, was Finney Solomon. He stood.

“You know Finney, of course,” said Dorothy. “He flew in from the city yesterday.”

“Certainly. We met at my office.” He turned to Finney. “Are you staying at the Harbor View?”

Finney’s smile was feeble. “I decided to stay at a bed-and-breakfast in West Tisbury. Meet more natives that way.” He extended his hand. “How’s it going?”

Orion shook the hand. “Great.”

“Finney has good news,” Dorothy said.

“Always like to hear good news,” said Orion.

“I’ve gotten a lot of interest,” Finney said, still standing by his chair and not looking at Orion. “I can’t get any action, though, until you sign that contract.”

“I’m sure you have plenty of other work to keep you busy. We can wait on the contract.”

This was Orion’s first time in the house on North Water Street, and it was as Victoria had described it, an expensive hotel. Not a personal touch anywhere.

Dorothy slipped into the easy chair. “Have a seat, Orion.” She indicated the couch that faced the fireplace, where three white birch logs were stacked artistically on polished brass andirons.

She leaned toward him. “You wanted to talk to me. Business? Or pleasure. The latter, I hope.”

“Business,” Orion said. “First, that is.” He smiled.

Finney cleared his throat.

“I hope you’re not going to scold me.” Dorothy pouted and sat back, relaxed. “I haven’t paid as much attention to our company as I should have, now that I’m part owner.”

Orion was determined not to show his irritation. “Things are going well.” He turned to Finney. “Angelo’s death must be tough on you.”

Finney gazed thoughtfully at the fireplace.

After a pause, Dorothy sat up and clapped her hands. “What am I thinking! Drinks,” she said. “What would you boys like? I believe I’ll have a glass of white wine.”

“That sounds fine,” said Orion.

As she bustled away a sense of longing trailed her.

Neither Orion nor Finney spoke. They stared at the never-to-be-burned logs in the pristine fireplace.

Dorothy returned a few minutes later carrying a tray with a bottle of white Burgundy, three delicate, long-stemmed glasses, and a plate of crackers and cheese. She set the tray down on the coffee table in front of Orion.

He opened the wine and poured.

“Cheers, darlings!” She held up her glass. “To my two favorite men and the success of Universal Fiber Optics!”

They chatted about wine and the weather. Orion didn’t intend to bring up the subject of Ditch Witch equipment ownership with Finney here.

“Finney is such an asset to our company,” said Dorothy, taking a small sip and smiling at Finney. “He’s wealthy in his own right, you know.”

Finney looked down. Dorothy smiled. Her smile had lost its girlish charm.

“Finney mentioned the contract.” Orion turned to Finney. “I understand you discussed it with Dorothy?”

“Finney’s raising the funds we need,” said Dorothy.

“It’s unethical to discuss the finances of my company with anyone until I sign that contract, Finney.”

Finney stared at the fireplace.

“He’s not only told me about the contract, he showed it to me,” said Dorothy.

“You had no business doing that, Finney.”

Dorothy brushed aside his remark. “I suppose I should sign it, too, since I’m a partner.”

Orion folded his arms across his chest to hide his shaking hands. Hands he wanted to wrap around that pink throat. A partner in his company? He’d see about that.