Death by Cashmere (30 page)

"And speaking of heart attacks," Mae said, "how is our Angus doing? Sure surprised me when I heard the news at Coffee's. Angus told me he had the heart of an ox."

"I guess you never know. He's still holding on and we're hoping for the best," Nell said. "I'm off to a meeting, but please tell Izzy to give me a call."

"Oh, I almost forgot this," Mae said. She thrust an envelope in Nell's hand. "I opened it because I thought it was a bill for the studio. Property tax or some other kind of tax. They slap us with all kinds. The return address was the county offices. Had it clean open before I realized it wasn't for the shop a'tall. You might want to ask Ben what to do with it. Shouldn't have read it, I suppose . . ." Mae picked up a stack of receipts and began putting them in order.

Nell looked curiously at the envelope--a white, legal-sized rectangle, with a typed shop address, but before she could examineit, the phone rang, pulling Mae's attention away, and a noisy group of tourists crowded into the shop. Nell shoved the envelope in her pocket to read later and hurried off to her meeting.

Nell crossed the street, dodging a young boy on a bike and waving at Mary Halloran as she walked up the hill toward Our Lady of the Seas.
Probably lighting a few more candles for Cass,
Nell thought and smiled at the thought. Cass was such a together young woman--and whether she married or not, she would have a good life, just as Nell felt sure Izzy would. And though she wouldn't trade her own life with Ben for anything on earth, she admired Izzy and Cass and their friends who carved out lives they chose to lead, and not necessarily ones their mothers and grandmothers had accepted as the way things were. The world accommodated this generation differently, she thought. Not better or worse necessarily. But differently.

When Nell's cell phone rang, she glanced down, expecting Izzy or Ben's name to pop up. It was Birdie.

With bad news.

Nell listened carefully, then closed her phone and slipped it into her bag. She walked slowly up the brick steps to the museum, the lump in her throat growing with each step.

"Nell, you're a bit early," Nancy said, calling out from her office just inside the entrance.

Nell turned toward her voice.

Nancy took one look at Nell's face and rose from her desk. "Nell, you look awful. What's wrong? Come in here and sit down."

Nell walked into Nancy's office and sat down on a chair near the desk. "I just heard something shocking, Nancy. And I thought I was about shocked out."

"Is Angus all right?"

"No." Birdie's words circled around in Nell's head, finally settling into the right order. Heavy and solid and awful. "Nancy, Angus McPherron was poisoned."

Now it was Nancy's turn to sit down. "No, Nell. That's impossible. I talked with him just last night, not long before he had the heart attack. He was fine."

"Where did you see him?"

"At his usual Sunday-night spot--the patio at the Edge. Angus is the most faithful diner they have. The hostess sets her clock by him. It wasn't long after you and I talked."

"How did he look?"

"Worried. Margarethe and I were meeting there to talk over that display case, and we watched him sit down. He wasn't sick as far as I could see, though Margarethe remarked how pale he was.

"He left before we did, and shortly after, we heard the sirens, and soon after that the news spread. A heart attack, we heard--in Angie Archer's apartment. That caused quite a stir, as you can imagine. But poison, Nell? That doesn't make sense."

"Could he have eaten something?" Nell wondered out loud.

"He has the same thing every Sunday. Clam chowder and pie. That sweet chef who came over from Rockport makes it just for him."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Just for a minute. The place was crowded--all Tony's friends from Boston were there with him, so we chatted with them. Margarethe must have a sixth sense--she didn't think Angus looked well, so we went over to say hello, like I said. I chatted with him while Margarethe went to check on his food--it hadn't come yet and he seemed agitated. He was distracted the way he gets sometimes. Tired. But nothing unusual that I could see. Once his food came, we went back inside to finish our meeting. And that was that until we heard the sirens. A heart attack makes sense. Poison doesn't."

"According to Birdie, a heart attack
didn't
make sense. That's why they checked further into the cause of Angus's illness. At Birdie's insistence, Angus had had a complete checkup just a coupleweeks before. The doctor said his arteries were as clear and clean as a new pipe and his heart muscles as strong as a much younger man's. Angus was in great shape--I guess it's all that walking he does. His weary mind was an emotional thing, the doc said, not a sign of senility. The only bright note in all this is that he isn't dead. And there's a good chance, Birdie said, that he might survive."

"Thank God for that. But surely you don't think anyone in this town would poison Angus, Nell. Everyone knows him--he's a fixture in Sea Harbor. And I can't imagine him having an enemy. He's sweet and gentle."

And maybe that's the problem,
Nell thought. Sometimes sweet and gentle isn't good. Being slightly aware, cautious, standing up for yourself--those traits have a part to play in life, too.

"Do you think there's a connection between Angie's death and this awful news about Angus?" Nancy asked.

Nell nodded. "Yes, I do. It doesn't all make sense yet, but I think all of these things are connected. I think they were started by Angie's desire to right a wrong, and they have to be stopped before anything else happens. Dear Angus is the last straw."

Nancy moved the papers around on her desk and checked her watch, then looked at Nell, a worried expression on her face. "I guess we'd better move into the meeting room, Nell. But please let me know if you hear more about Angus." She reached out a hand and squeezed Nell's. "And, Nell?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

Nell followed Nancy through a door in her office that led directly into the boardroom. Nearly all the chairs were filled, and Nell hoped the meeting would start quickly to avoid talk of Angus. Though news passed quickly in Sea Harbor, she suspected the heart attack was now common knowledge, but not the poison. And she hoped it would stay that way, at least for a while.

"A glorious party!"

"A perfect night."

"The auction brought in enough to support the Arts Academy for two summers."

Nell took the one empty chair. The swirl of chatter allowed her unnoticed silence. Nell sat still and listened. Party talk. That she could handle without her heart aching.

It was a minute before she realized that she was sitting next to Margarethe, who had taken a half-finished shawl out of her bag. It was oversized, more a blanket than a shawl. A TV wrap, as Izzy called them, made out of soft natural mohair.

Nell touched the edges of the shawl. "Is it just we knitters who do that, I wonder? We see a beautiful yarn and our fingers are lured to it instantly."

Margarethe offered a smile, but her eyes were tired. "Maybe so," she said.

"As you can hear, the party was a grand success."

"We raised more than expected. I'm happy for the academy. Sam Perry was a draw. He's been a wonderful asset to the faculty this summer."

"Your son was also a draw, Margarethe. I enjoyed meeting his friends from Boston."

Margarethe's face remained still, but the mention of Tony and his friends seemed to freeze her features, and the look that had controlled boards and swayed business decisions replaced the weariness in her eyes. She nodded carefully. "Tony has many friends," she said.

Nell felt suddenly awkward, unsure of what to say next. Margarethe's look was one of controlled disappointment--and sadness. Suddenly Nell felt an urge to comfort her, though she had no idea why. Clearly Tony was causing his mother distress. Nell took a sip of her ice tea and attempted to lighten the mood. "Tony was nice to take Izzy and Sam Perry hiking out at the old quarries today. Sam is so curious about the area, and it's a perfect day to take a short hike."

"Excuse me?" Margarethe said. Her forehead wrinkled severely. "You must have misunderstood. Tony had a business meeting and is picking me up afterward," she said.

Nell felt unexplainably chastised. "I'm sorry, you're right, Margarethe," she said quickly. "My mistake. Tony said he was busy, but he generously gave Izzy permission to show him around herself."

Margarethe leaned forward in her chair. "No, he wouldn't do that," she said sternly.

"I'm sorry, Margarethe," Nell said. "Is it a problem?"

"It's dangerous out there, Nell." Margarethe's voice was low and calm, but beneath the calm was an edge of steel. "Tony is just like his father. No sense. Those quarries appear without warning. The water can be a hundred feet deep. He's put them in danger."

Nell took a deep breath and tried to calm the sudden wild beat of her heart. For one brief moment she imagined Izzy and Sam at the bottom of a deep blue quarry. But almost immediately, she realized the folly of that thought. Sam and Izzy weren't foolish kids. They were smart, sensible adults. Any danger for them would be imposed on them, not something under their control like being careful around the edges of a quarry. Besides, though she wouldn't mention it to Margarethe, the quarries weren't unfamiliar terrain to kids who grew up in Sea Harbor or spent their summers there.

"I think they'll be okay, Margarethe," Nell said aloud. "And they'll probably not get close to the quarries anyway. They just wanted to see if it might be a good place to take Sam's students for a photo shoot."

"No, it certainly would not," Margarethe said. "I won't put children in that kind of danger. Tony should have known better."

Nancy's tapping of her water glass was a relief, and Nell settled in to follow the meeting's agenda and block out the unpleasant thought of Izzy and Sam wandering into a place that could in any way present danger to them, however irrational she knew those thoughts to be.

When the meeting ended a short while later, Nell scooped up her notes and her knitting and slipped them into her bag. She waved good-bye to Nancy and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

At the curb sat the metallic orange Hummer that, in just one month, had become as familiar to Sea Harbor residents as the sound of the foghorn on gray days. It signified Tony Framingham. Nell watched as Tony leaned across the leather seat and opened the passenger door for his mother. She wondered briefly how many off-roads Tony encountered in Boston and New York with that big car, and then pushed her judgmental thoughts to the back of her head. He may not be doing much for the environment and fuel conservancy, but the Framinghams certainly contributed their share to society. Things balanced out.

Before she had settled into the seat, Margarethe confronted Tony. Her voice rose as she talked, floating through the car window and up the steps. Nell tried not to listen. But Margarethe's voice was strident and clear as she accused her son of putting people's lives in danger.

"What were you thinking, Tony Framingham?" she said. "You don't deserve the name given you. You're foolish, just as your father sometimes was. We've had enough death in Sea Harbor."

Nell knew it was foolish, but she called Izzy's cell as soon as she got to her car. "Just to say hello," she told herself. That was all. Then she'd head to the market, pick up some things at McClucken's, and go home. She and Ben hadn't had a quiet moment in days, and she wanted to tap into his logical, well-ordered mind to help straighten out her own thoughts.

Nell remembered her graduate school days when she'd have a complicated paper facing her--and two days left to pull it all together. She and Ben would walk the campus, going through her many note cards and scraps of paper. She would talk. Ben would listen. They'd end up outside the deli in Cambridge Square, where Nell would spread her thoughts and facts across the table while they drank copious amounts of coffee and ate sandwiches piled high with turkey and cheese and brown mustard. When she was finished, Ben would sit back and clasp his hands behind his head, his chair tilted back on two legs and his eyes focusing on Nell in the way that made her shift on the hard metal chair and wish they weren't in a public place.

And Ben'd say, "Here's what you do, Nellie--" And then he'd dictate a perfectly ordered outline, Nell's facts and thoughts and digressions filtered into Roman numeral items that followed one from another and made perfect sense.

So maybe you can work your magic on all these awful happenings around us, my love,
Nell thought.

Izzy didn't answer her phone, and for a minute Nell sat still, an uncomfortable paralysis coming over her. She didn't know what to do next. Should she drive out to the Framingham property? But where would she go? There were several different quarries on the huge piece of land. And unlike her niece, she hadn't been swimming in any of them in her youth. Besides, what would she say when Izzy and Sam strolled back to their car, smiles on their faces and maybe a relaxed look about Izzy that had been missing for days--"I came out here because I thought you might have drowned in a quarry? Been pushed into a quarry?"

It was early afternoon. Izzy and Sam were probably still hiking the woods around the quarries, and Izzy had left her phone in the car. Or it had run out of batteries, which happened often to Izzy. All was fine. Surely she would know it if it weren't so.

Nell turned toward the village and found a place to park near Coffee's. A frappuchino while she finished her phone calls might put things into perspective. The patio was nearly deserted, and when her name was called, Nell carried the icy-cold drink outside and sat beneath an umbrella and made her next call.

Birdie was about to head back to the hospital, she told Nell. "Angus has no one else but us, Nell." Ella and Harold were going with her, she said, having formed an odd attachment to Angus as he came and went from the Favazza carriage house.