A Fatal Fleece (31 page)

“Sure, we have all these tiny pieces, but we still don’t have a murderer,” Cass said.

“But we will. We’ll let all the things in our head fall out on this table like strands of yarn,” Birdie said. “And then we’ll knit them into a magnificent . . . well, into something that makes sense and has no loose ends. I believe that glass of wine is wreaking havoc with my analogies.”

They all laughed.

“Okay. For what it’s worth, this is in my head. I’m about to lose my never-been-touched inheritance,” Cass began. “Which isn’t the end of the world, but the person going after it frightens me. I don’t trust Beverly Walden, and I think she had something to do with her father’s death.”

Birdie finished her first empanada—spicy chicken and cheese—declared it magnificent, and said, “I agree with you, Cass. I think she has an agenda that we know nothing about. She’s doing something behind our backs, and I think Finnegan knew it, too. There was a reason he cut her out of the will entirely.”

“According to Gabby, Finn was upset because she was doing something dishonest or unethical—or something that was terribly offensive to him.” Birdie repeated the conversation they’d had with Gabby earlier in the day. “That sweet young girl doesn’t miss a thing.”

“They caught Beverly sneaking onto his land?”

“Yes,” Nell said. “And she ended up threatening him. I guess that’s what bothers me the most. How far would Beverly take a threat?”

“Here’s something else to weave in. We know that the Delaneys,
several investors, Beatrice Scaglia, and my dear Nick weren’t the only ones in the public records’ office. Beverly spent a fair amount of time there, too. Thanks to dear Sal’s attention to detail, we know each time she was there and what she was looking at.”

“Doing what?” Izzy asked. “If she was so sure she was inheriting everything, why look up the deed?”

“Maybe trying to assess the value?” Cass said.

“Could be,” Izzy said, “But there’d be more efficient ways to do that. Check with a Realtor, for one. The deed wouldn’t necessarily indicate today’s value, only what Finn bought it for a thousand years ago.”

“It wasn’t just Finn’s property. She looked up a lot of deeds, some that seemed frivolous, almost like excuses to be using the computers.”

“What do you think that was about?” Izzy asked.

Nell shrugged. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Cass slid several more empanadas onto her plate. “Jane said Beverly was active in the artist community when she first arrived, but seemed to have lost interest recently. They think it’s because she’s seeing some guy, but when Jane asked her about it, she was defensive and did everything but tell Jane to mind her own business. Some things should be private, she said, like what went on in one’s bedroom, and she would certainly never ask Jane about her life behind closed doors.”

“She said that?” Izzy asked.

Cass nodded. “Her main interest now, Jane says, is getting her hands on her father’s money, even to the neglect of her art.”

“All right, then. Why? She’s certainly defensive about her life. Why does she care if people know she’s in a relationship?” Izzy asked.

“Maybe she isn’t sure of the relationship and doesn’t want to be embarrassed if it doesn’t work out,” Nell offered.

“Or the guy is married,” Cass said.

They all paused. A possibility. And a reason for keeping it under wraps.

“But what would all of that have to do with Finn’s murder?” Cass asked.

“People do crazy things for love,” Izzy said. “If Beverly thought money would make the relationship work . . .”

She might murder to get it?

It seemed far-fetched, but it was possible. People killed for love. The thought hovered over them as they ate the empanadas and passed around the bottle of wine.

Nell set down her glass. “Here’s another loose thread: the body in Finn’s yard.”

“The rumors are awful and ridiculous,” Birdie added. “As if Finn would kill someone, bury him on his own land, and then live there, right next to someone he’d killed.”

It was silly, but as Ben said, the police weren’t concerned about the emotional element. And the fact was he
could
have killed someone, and he
could
have kept everyone off his land so they wouldn’t find out.

“So we need to figure out who was buried there and why. If it doesn’t reveal who killed Finnegan, at the very least we will clear Finnegan’s name,” Izzy said.

Nell explained about the futility of using dental records to identify the long-buried body. “The whole thing is strange, but Birdie and I have a theory—”

Everyone leaned in while Birdie and Nell spread their thoughts on the table, including the role of Timothy Pulaski, DDS.

When they were through, Izzy clapped her hands. “Yes!” she said. “Sherlock Holmes has nothing on you two.”

“The police would say we’re hopeless romantics, out chasing rainbows,” Nell said. “But sometimes that’s where the gold is. So let’s start with burials. Do any of you know someone we can talk to at St. Mary’s Cemetery?”

“There’re lots of Hallorans over there, but it’s hard to get a word out of them.”

“
Living
people, sweetie,” Birdie said.

“I can provide living, too, because I love this idea. I think you
are onto something. The grandpa of a friend of Pete’s has been the caretaker over there for a zillion years. I forget his name—Henry something. Pete and his buddies used to spend a lot of time over there, riding bikes and hanging out. The grandpa loved the company and even put up a rope swing for the guys.”

Nell scribbled the name on a pad of paper and switched the topic to knives. “Both Beatrice and Beverly purchased rigging knives recently from McClucken’s. And they both insisted on buying the best he carried.”

“Beatrice Scaglia with a boat knife?” Cass laughed. “Imagine her in that spotless white suit, gutting a trout.”

The thought made them laugh. But there were other uses for a knife than gutting fish, Birdie reminded them.

“Surely no one wanting to kill Finnegan would walk into the only hardware store in Sea Harbor and buy the murder weapon,” Izzy said.

“Unless that’s the best way to do it. What did Angus say? It’s those things in plain sight that we don’t see. It’s when you’re hiding something that you get the attention.”

“Like the secretive Beverly,” Cass said.

“Who also bought a knife,” Birdie said. “But she also confiscated a boat. Perhaps the two went together.”

Nell pulled out Gabby’s sweater and smoothed it on her lap, listening to the conversation spinning around her.
Beverly bought a knife, too
. She replayed the conversation with Gus in her head. She’d been so taken with the image of Beatrice and a rigging knife that she hadn’t processed carefully what he had said about Beverly. It came back to her now, and, in hindsight, she realized something she’d almost missed.

She looked up. “No, I don’t think the knife went with the boat, unless she was making plans to buy a boat of her own. According to Gus, Beverly bought the knife a few weeks ago, before her father died, so she wouldn’t have been buying a knife for her father’s boat.”

Unless
.

The unspoken word hung heavy in the air. Unless she had a different use entirely in mind.

It was a gruesome thought, and the jingling of the front door was a welcome relief.

They could hear male voices, deeper this time, joking in the outer rooms, the twins bantering back. Minutes later Ben and Sam appeared in the archway. With hellos all around, they headed for the table and peeled back the cover from the Pyrex dish.

“We’re in luck,” Sam said.

“Weren’t you two headed to the Gull to watch the baseball game?” Izzy said.

“Plans change,” Ben said. “My fault.” He looked hungrily at a dozen remaining empanadas. “Besides, these top Jake Risso’s greasy burgers any day.”

“Hey,” Cass said. “That’s my week of dinners you’re about to inhale.”

Birdie laughed and patted her knee. “Cass, dear, there are dozens more where those came from. Gabby can stock your freezer. Ours is already overflowing.”

The two men filled their plates and pulled out two old library chairs, turning them to face the women.

“Okay, so why are you really here?” Izzy asked, handing them each a cold Modela. “It’s a Yankees-Sox game you’re missing. It takes more than empanadas and our amazing company to do that.”

Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her down for a kiss. “Can’t a guy miss his woman?”

“
Woman
? You’ve been reading too much Dashiell Hammett, Perry.” Izzy kissed him soundly and returned to her almost-finished pink socks.

Ben made it through three pastries and a pile of salad quickly. He put down his fork, wiped his mouth, and took a long swig of the cold Modelo. “It’s been a long day,” he said finally.

The women were silent. Their needles clicked as their heads turned in Ben’s direction.

“But a good one,” he added. “At least for some. Not so much for others.” He looked over at Cass.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“Beverly’s case contesting the will is being thrown out. Or, to be more accurate, her own lawyer is telling her to let it go.”

Cass moved to the edge of her chair. “Why?’

“For starters, there was some question about whether Beverly was in a position to judge Finn’s mental capacity. The two rarely saw each other. And if she wanted to recruit allies, no one in this town—even those eager to grab his property—would argue that he wasn’t mentally competent.”

No one moved. It was clear from the look on Ben’s face that he wasn’t finished.

“There’s something else,” Nell said quietly.

“All right,” Cass said. “Let’s hear it.”

Nell’s thoughts ran the gamut, and she knew from Cass’ expression that she, too, was expecting the worst. The land was being foreclosed upon. There was another relative, another will uncovered. Or, perish the thought, another dead body.

But Ben’s words were simple and unexpected.

“Beverly Walden isn’t Finnegan’s daughter,” he said.

Chapter 30

T
he news landed like a grenade right in the middle of the knitting room.

And then came the explosion, with voices colliding.

“What?

“Are you sure?”

“How do you know?”

Finally, Birdie quieted everyone, walking around the group pouring wine and replacing empty beer bottles with full ones. “All right, now,” she said, sitting back down and pulling her knitting into her lap. “Please explain, Ben.”

Ben smiled. He nodded to Birdie. “That, I will. The rest of Finn’s documents came today. Although it had seemed rather perfunctory stuff to the Boston firm, they don’t live here in Sea Harbor and didn’t know that an adoption application, particularly one that had been denied, would be of interest.

“Finn had agreed to adopt Beverly, apparently because Moira wanted him to. Father Larry remembered that part of their story. What he didn’t know was what the application and accompanying letter revealed. Beverly’s biological father refused to sign over his rights.”

“Her father?” Izzy asked.

“A marine Moira had met in California. He and Moira never married, and he didn’t seem to have much interest in having a baby. So Moira moved back East and had the baby. But years later, after
she and Finnegan married and he petitioned to adopt Beverly—she was around ten when the application was filed—the guy refused. Wouldn’t sign the papers. No one’s sure why. A power thing, maybe.”

“Did Beverly know that?”

“No. And we had to put Angus McPherran in the hot seat to find out why. Angus knew about the failed adoption, but the man is as closemouthed as they come. He said Moira had sworn Finnegan within an inch of his life never to tell Beverly. She wanted her to think she was Finnegan’s adopted daughter.”

Wanted her to feel wanted,
Nell supposed.

“I don’t suppose Beverly had an easy life,” Izzy admitted.

“Probably not. But it wasn’t for want of trying. Finnegan and Moira did everything they could to give her a decent life, Father Larry said. She was a troubled kid. She probably blamed it on the two of them, but sometimes it runs deeper than that.”

Bad blood,
perhaps, from a father she never knew.

“She started getting in trouble early, if memory serves me right,” Birdie said.

Ben nodded. “Moira thought Finn could straighten her out if he was legally her father. She probably thought Beverly might listen to a parent figure.”

Beverly had been so optimistic about meeting with the priest today. It would all be over, she’d have her money and. . . . run? No, not that, if she was looking at property around town. Nell looked at Ben. “Does Beverly know this? She said she was meeting with you today. Did you tell her?” But it was rhetorical. She knew from the weary look on his face that he had, and that it had been difficult.

“Her lawyer was there, too, to offer advice. We thought it was better that she hear the news from Father Larry and me, rather than in a court as she tried to lay claim to her father’s money. There was also a letter Finnegan had written to her, to be given to her when he died. She looked at it, but not really, then threw it on the table when she left.”

“What did it say?” Cass asked.

“It was formal, but kind. He explained about the failed adoption,
about wanting her to have a good life, and regretted that it hadn’t been the kind of life her mother wanted for her. He also mentioned the will, and that she would understand why she wasn’t in it.”

“How did she react?”

“She’s a tough lady. It’s hard to know what she feels. She seems to have many different faces, but we saw a mean one today. She was determined there was a loophole somewhere. She didn’t care at all that she wasn’t Finn’s daughter, but she cared a hell of a lot about his money. I think when she left, she was still plotting a way to turn this around. She seems to think this money will get her something she desperately wants. She’s one determined lady. Frankly, I think she might be dangerous.”

The room was absolutely still, with thoughts of Beverly Walden sucking out the air.