A Fatal Fleece (12 page)

Nell smiled and sipped her coffee. But she couldn’t shake the anxious feeling she always got when the pleasant sounds of
summer were broken by the unnatural screech of an alarm. A fishing accident. A car gone off the road. Sirens did not herald good things, no matter how Izzy tried to position it.

“It looks like it’s over near Canary Cove Road,” Ben said, lifting himself slightly from the chair seat and looking down over the trees. “That bend in the road needs a warning sign. There’ve been too many bike accidents down there.”

That’s what it must be. A cyclist gone off the road.
On a quiet Sunday, that would be enough to bring out any emergency-vehicle drivers resting on their laurels. Hopefully the injury would be minor and not require a cast—a definite burden when vacationing at the beach.

When Nell’s phone rang, she checked the name and relief flooded over her. It was Cass.

Only then did Nell realize the siren, as they always did, had caused her to take silent inventory of those closest to her. She knew where Birdie was, but Cass, who should have been sitting at the table, shoveling down eggs, was missing. But now she was in touch to tell Nell she was late but would be there in two seconds.

Nell pressed the phone to her ear, and a relieved smile lifted her lips as she said hello.

In the next instant, the smile dropped away.

“No.” Nell’s single word was firm, a command to change what was happening. To block it out. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and looked at the others.

“There’s been an accident,” she said. “We need to go.”

Chapter 12

I
t wasn’t Cass, Nell assured them as they abandoned their eggs and hurried from the restaurant. Cass was fine.

“Well, not fine, not really. I couldn’t understand most of what she was saying, except that she needed us and there’d been a terrible accident.”

A police car and ambulance had taken up much of the gravel easement along Finnegan’s fence by the time they arrived, and Nell noticed vaguely that the sunflowers they’d planted were flattened beneath the wheels of the emergency medical van. Cass’ truck was pulled over near the community garden, the door open, and folded up on the seat, weeping softly, was Cass. Next to the door, Danny Brandley stood, one palm flat against the side of the car, a helpless look in his eyes.

They were out of the car in an instant.

“It’s Finnegan . . .” Danny began as Izzy and Sam drew close. Ben and Nell were a footstep behind.

Cass pulled herself up in the seat, her hands grasping the steering wheel. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and a lost look dulled her eyes. “Finnegan,” she repeated, her voice a hoarse whisper.

Nell stepped up next to Izzy. She leaned down, her face close to Cass’. “Where is Finnegan, Cass?”

Cass could be tough as nails, a fisherman from her toes to the very top of her black hair, but this bright Sunday morning, with the sun soaking up last night’s rain and the toll of church bells
rolling down the hill and waking the sleepy town, she was a rag doll. Nell resisted the urge to wrap her tight in her arms, something Cass would not appreciate—not with the medical personnel so close.

Ben touched Nell’s shoulder and nodded toward the police car.

Tommy Porter, a young patrolman who not too many years ago mowed the Endicott lawn, was putting the police monitor back into his squad car. He closed the door and walked toward Cass’ truck, his head low.

“Tommy, what’s going on?” Ben asked. “Cass mentioned an accident.”

“Ch . . . Chief Thompson i-is o-on his way,” Tommy answered, the tension bringing back, but only for few moments, the stuttering he’d been burdened with during younger years. He walked closer to the truck, talking to Ben, but his eyes were on Cass. “It’s o-old man Finn-egan. Cass— She . . . He . . .”

Cass climbed out of the truck, and Tommy stopped talking. Danny steadied her, his hand on the small of her back, and this time she didn’t pull away. She looked around at her circle of friends and then her eyes sought Tommy’s.

Her face was drained of color and her eyes locked into Tommy’s.

“He’s dead, isn’t he, Tommy? Finnegan is dead. . . .”

News of old Finnegan’s death spread slowly through town, casting a pall over the sleepy summer Sunday.

At the same time, vacationers, oblivious of the news, moved happily through the streets. Colorful beach bags swung from tan shoulders, and the sweet fragrance of coconut oil filled Harbor Road and Archie’s bookstore.

A normal Sunday in the beach town that was suddenly not normal at all to those who lived there.

After the ambulance had taken Finnegan away and Cass had talked to Chief Thompson, they retreated to Ben and Nell’s, where Nell quickly tossed together a plate of eggs, thick pieces of French
toast dusted with cinnamon sugar, and a bowl of fresh fruit. Not up to Annabelle’s standards, she told them, but enough to fill empty stomachs.

As she carried the tray of food out to the deck, Nell’s cell phone rang. She handed the tray to Izzy and stepped back inside the family room.

Before Nell could say hello, Birdie began talking. “Esther Gibson called me,” she said. “She didn’t know much, but she said there’d been an accident.”

Nell filled her in on the scant details that she knew. “Last night’s storm made it difficult to know exactly what happened. It was muddy, as you can imagine.”

“And Cass? Esther said she was there. Poor Cass. Oh, Nell, we know how awful such a thing is. . . .”

Nell nodded, remembering the terrible nightmares that plagued her a couple of years before, when she and Birdie had come upon someone they knew lying motionless—and very dead—in a snowy bank. “Yes. She was on her way to meet us for breakfast but stopped to deliver some food to Finnegan. It was awful for her, but she’s here now—and she insists she’s fine.”

Nell looked across the deck while she talked. Cass was sitting next to Ben, with Danny hovering close, while Izzy and Sam set out plates, mugs, and a carafe of coffee. When they had arrived home, Cass had gone upstairs to Ben and Nell’s bathroom and thrown water on her face. Some color had crept back into her face, but her eyes still held the horror of what she’d seen.

“Fine, nonsense,” Birdie was saying into her ear. “She just stumbled upon a dead body. How could she be fine?” She told Nell she’d be over as soon as she and Nick were finished talking with Gabby about the accident. “Finnegan was her friend,” she reminded Nell.

When Birdie showed up a short while later, she wasn’t alone.

A pale-faced Gabby walked in ahead of Birdie and Nick. She smiled and went readily into the hug Nell offered.

“She wanted to come,” Birdie said as Gabby walked on ahead, passing through the family room and out to the deck. “She’s sad,
but children have a way of funneling grief to a place where they can deal with it.” She shook her head slowly. “It’s an amazing gift.”

“She hangs on to people she’s lost, so they’re never really far from her,” Nick said. “A favorite teacher died last year, and Gabby is always telling me about conversations the two of them have. Things she learns from Miss Leah. Advice she gives. Her dad says there’s a whole litany of people who live in her spirit world.”

“Perhaps there’s something there to learn,” Birdie said.

Nick was quiet, his eyes following Gabby as she walked over to Cass and sat down next to her, not saying a word but resting one hand on Cass’ knee.

“It’s as if she’s known you all her life,” he said.

“We love her. She reminds me of what Birdie must have been like at that age.”

“If Gabby grows up to be half the woman her grandmother is, she’ll be a great lady,” Nick said.

“Birdie is embracing this new role. You’ve given her a gift, bringing Gabby here.”

“As we were driving into town that day, I realized that Birdie could turn us away. Close the door in our faces. I hadn’t seen her in a long time, and then to drop this bombshell on her—it was a risk. My brother was wrong, maybe, to keep the fact that he had a son from her. But he knew how weak his heart was by then, that the writing was on the wall. I think he didn’t want her to have to deal with his mistakes.”

“Gabby came from that mistake, so it ended up being a blessing. But maybe it was a good thing not to tell Birdie. What could she have done?”

“That’s the crux of it. Nothing. Sometimes it is far better not to know some things that you can’t do anything about, things that might hurt you needlessly.” He spoke with unusual passion and looked at Nell as if wanting her to listen carefully and to take his words and stash them away.

Then his voice returned to normal and he continued, talking about his brother. “Joseph had me put money into a trust for his son—more
than Christopher would ever spend in a lifetime. Too much, maybe. But, nevertheless, he was taken care of, and so is Gabby. My brother was a secretive guy—he had his problems—but he never shirked his responsibilities.”

“And you arranged for the amazing gift that came out of all that history to meet her grandmother. All’s right with the world.”

His eyes lingered on his niece. “This place is about as different from her Manhattan penthouse life as it can be, but she can’t stop talking about her friends, the town, the lobsters. She loves it all.”

“Finnegan seemed to be one of her favorites. Did you have the chance to know him?”

“No.” The answer came quickly, definitively. “Gabby talked about him. He was teaching her how to fish somewhere down near Canary Cove, she said.”

Yes, somewhere down where you had an argument with that very man whom you don’t know. Less than a day ago.
Nell’s brows pulled together. She took a deep breath, then released it, along with the uncomfortable image of Finnegan spewing his anger on Nick Marietti. She wanted the thoughts gone, out of her head. Nick Marietti had done a wonderful thing bringing Gabby here. He was gracious and kind. And there was something about him that elicited trust and welcomed friendship. She liked him.

And he had just lied to her.

She forced a smile to her face. It didn’t matter now. Whatever they had argued about was a nonissue. Finnegan was no longer able to argue.
Let it go.

“This deck is our safe haven,” she said, motioning for him to follow her. “A place to be with friends no matter what the occasion—happy or sad.”

Nick took in the group gathering together in the comfortable circle of chaises and lounge chairs. “I should be embarrassed to be intruding like this. But you don’t seem to allow it.”

“No, we don’t. You’re practically a relative. We’re glad you’re here—and I know Birdie is happy that you and Gabby will stay a few more days. I hope it all means your mother is doing better?”

“She’s rallied. Sometimes I think she uses the drama of death to play us all, get us to do her bidding. I went to Italy thinking I might be attending a funeral, and instead I came back to one here in Sea Harbor. Life is full of twists and turns,
sei d’accordo
?”

“Yes, most certainly.” She smiled. Her own life had had its shares of curves, for sure, and whether they added lines to her forehead or etched joyful memories in her heart, the curves were always enriching in one way or another.

Nick’s head leaned to one side, as if pondering a serious thought. Then he asked, “Were you close to the man who died?”

Nell considered the question for a moment. “Not close like I am to these people.” She looked around the deck. “But Finnegan was a fixture around Sea Harbor. A few, like Cass and her family, Angus McPherran, and Birdie, too, knew him better than others. It’s difficult to imagine the town without him. He’ll be missed.”

“Does he have relatives?”

“A daughter. His wife died a while ago.”
His daughter
. Nell had barely given a thought to Beverly Walden. Surely she knew by now. Chief Thompson would have gone to her immediately. Or Tommy Porter. Nell hoped there was someone there with her. Even though the relationship might not have been good, the death of a parent was not an easy thing to face.

Ben walked across the deck and shook Nick’s hand. “The eggs are getting cold, Nick. How about I fix a plate for you?”

Nell left Nick in Ben’s care, checked on Gabby, who had gone inside to watch a movie, and then walked around to the deck railing to where Cass was sitting. She noticed with some satisfaction that she was able to eat. A good sign. But then she remembered that the awful part of finding a dead body in such an unnatural way usually came in the middle of the night. She silently hoped Danny would be there to help her through it.

Nell ignored the myriad questions squeezed tight inside her chest and instead picked up the coffee carafe and walked slowly around the group, refilling cups. Cass would talk when she was ready.

Ready was sooner than Nell thought.

“It was that crazy yellow fleece. That’s the only reason I noticed him,” Cass said, setting her plate down on the teak table. “Otherwise, I’d just have left the soda bread on the step. Ma insisted he get it this morning while it was still fresh.
Finn is just like your dad,
she said.
He doesn’t use the sense the good lord gave him. He needs to eat.
And then I saw that familiar puddle of sunshine—the golden fleece vest, matted down in mud. . . .”

“I don’t think he’s taken it off since you gave it to him,” Izzy said softly.

Cass nodded. “Yeah. He liked it. He put it right on that day and said that it was there to stay.
Finest knit fleece I’ve ever had,
he said. Then he told me his Moira would have loved it, too; she loved to knit. Yellow was her favorite color. She used to knit him yellow socks.” Cass managed a smile. “Finn was a weird guy sometimes, but he cared about us. He kept telling me not to worry about our lobster business. It’d end up all right.” She shook her head. “I didn’t know what he was talking about half the time. He rambled.”

Finally Ben broached the subject they hadn’t touched. “Do you think with all that rain we had, he slipped and fell on a rock? How did he die?”

“It was hard to tell. There was a lot of blood. The police said he might have fallen on one of those old tractor parts. It . . .”