Home For the Homicide (A Do-It-Yourself Mystery) (18 page)

“Actually,” I said, refusing to take offense at the hint of recrimination in his tone, “we couldn’t see clearly in passing, and we were worried you might be outside Dr. Ben and Cora’s house.”

Wayne had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry.”

“It’s OK. We were really just driving by. If I’d realized this was the Silvas’ house, we would have just kept going.”

Derek snorted softly, but didn’t actually contradict me. Instead, he said, “Has something happened to Henrietta?”

“Heart attack,” Wayne said.

“Oh, no. Is she . . .”

“Dead” was the word I couldn’t quite bring myself to utter.

He shook his head. “She’s hanging on. Barely. But I’m not looking forward to telling Kate about this.”

“Why?” Not that it’s ever fun to give somebody bad news, but I hadn’t gotten the impression that Kate and Henrietta were all that close. No reason why it would be more difficult to tell Kate than it had been to tell, for instance, me.

“She’ll blame herself,” Wayne said. “For inviting Henrietta to take part in the home tour. For letting her do too much.”

“It was her choice, wasn’t it? She didn’t have to accept.”

Wayne shrugged. “Kate will still blame herself.”

“So you think the stress was too much for Henrietta’s heart? Is that what happened?”

“Something like that,” Wayne said. “Dr. Ben is meeting the ambulance at the hospital. Her cardiologist will be coming up from Portland just as soon as he can.”

“Is she going to make it?” Derek asked.

“Not sure. I don’t have a lot of experience with heart attacks, but she didn’t look good. It may have been too long before anyone found her. The tour was over almost two hours ago. It was more than an hour before Mr. Silva came home, and he didn’t realize anything was wrong right away. Too much time may have passed.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Derek asked as the ambulance took off down the street, lights flashing and siren wailing. The Mercedes with Henry Silva inside pulled out of the driveway and fell in behind. I caught a glimpse of his face as he passed, and his expression was grim.

“I don’t think so,” Wayne said. “Unless you want to keep Darren company.”

We both glanced at the doorway, where Darren was still standing, outlined against the light. Either he was too much in shock to go inside and close the door, or he was wondering who Wayne was talking to.

“I’ll go see if he wants company,” Derek said and opened his door. “Just wait here, Avery.”

I nodded. I had no desire to approach Darren. I didn’t like him, and I was pretty sure he didn’t like me. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t stay if he wanted us to. He and Derek went back a long way, even if they’d never been as close as Derek and some of his other friends. But if Darren needed company, I certainly wasn’t about to refuse.

Derek headed across the street and into the yard, and I turned back to Wayne. “Poor Mr. Silva sure has had a lot to deal with this week.”

He nodded.

“How did he take the news about the baby skeleton? And Mamie?”

“The same way anyone would,” Wayne said. “Shocked. Dismayed. Upset.”

“And of course he’s upset about Henrietta.”

“Of course.”

“Does he have a bad heart, too?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Wayne said. “The heart problems are a Silva thing. Henry takes after his mother’s family, I guess.”

“Where was he this afternoon during the home tour? Here?”

Wayne shook his head. “Henrietta was alone. Darren was out looking at the other houses—”

I nodded. “He stopped by ours.”

“And Henry has a lady friend he was visiting.”

“Anyone we know?”

“It’s personal information,” Wayne said, “and none of your concern.”

“Just answer me one question. Is he seeing Kerri Waldo?”

There was a pause. And although Wayne didn’t answer, I could see the truth in his expression. “I thought I saw him there the other night,” I said apologetically. “Yesterday, when Kate and I were out walking around.”

Wayne didn’t respond. Not to that. “Why are you so interested in where everyone was? Surely you’re not thinking that there’s anything suspicious about this? She had a weak heart.”

“There’s just been a lot of deaths lately in the Silva family.”

“Henrietta isn’t dead yet,” Wayne reminded me. “And Mamie and Arthur were both Greens, not Silvas. And they were accidents, Avery. Mamie froze to death and Henrietta had a heart attack. Between the skeleton and Mamie’s death and now the home tour, it’s not surprising the stress may have gotten to her.”

Maybe not. Although Derek and I had seen Henry and Henrietta having an argument—or at least a heated discussion—at the Waymouth Tavern a few nights ago.

Maybe Henrietta had disapproved of Henry’s relationship with Kerri? Maybe she didn’t like the age difference and thought her brother was making a fool of himself with someone so much younger? He must have twenty years on her, if not more. Kerri was closer to Darren’s age than Henry’s, and by quite a lot.

If they’d been together during the home tour, one of them could easily have snuck out and down the street to do something to Henrietta, while the other held down the fort.

Then again, Henrietta’s disapproval surely wasn’t enough reason for Henry to want to get rid of her. He was the one who had made her move in. He was the one holding the purse strings, too. If he wanted a relationship with Kerri, he probably wouldn’t worry overmuch about his sister’s opinion.

It was probably as Kate said: I’d gotten so used to murders and sinister happenings that I saw them everywhere, even in perfectly harmless occurrences.

I turned my head as Derek opened the passenger door again and slid in beside me. “He doesn’t want company.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Derek said. “He just said he had phone calls to make, and then he was going to drive up to the hospital, too, and stay with his dad.”

“We should go,” I told Wayne, and got a nod in response, so obviously he thought so, too. I thought about asking him to let us know if she pulled through, but I caught Derek’s eye and realized it would be just as easy to call Dr. Ben and ask him. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with Wayne telling me not to butt in where I didn’t belong.

So we wished Wayne well and rolled off down the street. Dr. Ben’s car was already gone from outside the Folk Victorian, so he must be on his way to the hospital. Wayne overtook us after a couple of blocks and zipped past us and around the corner, lights flashing but no siren.

“Still hungry?” Derek asked into the silence.

“I could eat.” Although the thought of Guido’s Pizzeria, with its hustle and bustle, had lost some of its appeal.

Derek must feel the same way, because he said, “D’you just wanna grab something quick somewhere nearby? I’m not sure I’m up for a lot of people right now.”

“That’s fine with me.” The question was where to go. Waterfield rolls up the sidewalks pretty early, especially on a Sunday night.

“The cafés on Main Street usually stay open late the day of the Christmas Tour,” Derek said, reading my mind again. “Maybe we can grab a couple of roast beef sandwiches or something.”

Roast beef sandwiches sounded great. I made another turn, and we were on our way back toward Main Street. Downtown was mostly quiet now, when the home tour was over and done. Just a few people walked the sidewalks. The greenery strung across the street swayed gently above us as we drove, and the seahorses and anchors lit our way.

We ended up in a little café and ate our sandwiches right there, on opposite sides of a little marble-topped table. Neither of us said much. There wasn’t much to say.

“Was Darren rude to you?” I asked Derek, who shrugged.

“He wasn’t warm. But then he had a lot on his mind. And we’ve never been close.”

“Why not?”

“He’s a snob,” Derek said. “His family had money, so he’d only associate with certain of the kids. I was all right, because Dad was a doctor. And Zach was all right, because his dad worked for the bank. But Alex wasn’t, because Alex’s dad worked for the Silvas. And of course, Darren wouldn’t have anything to do with Barry . . .”

I nodded. “I don’t like him.”

“I don’t dislike him,” Derek said.

I did, sort of. “I’d love for him to be guilty of something.”

Derek’s lips twitched. “Like what? He’s my age. Born thirty years after whatever happened to Baby Arthur. And there isn’t anything else he could be guilty of.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything related to this. Just something. Shoplifting maybe.”

“He doesn’t have to shoplift,” Derek said. “He has money.”

“I don’t think people who shoplift do it because they can’t afford to pay. I think they do it because it’s fun. Like a game. Seeing if they can get away with it.”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t think he’d do anything like that, Tink. He gets his self-worth from his money—or I guess I should say his father’s money, since Darren hasn’t worked for any of it. Not that Henry has; he got it from Henry Senior. But I don’t think Darren would risk the reputation of the wealthy and well-respected Silvas by doing something stupid like that.”

Probably not. “I was just dreaming,” I said.

Derek grinned and pushed back his chair. “How about we stop by Cora’s house on the way home? Maybe Dad’s called with an update on Henrietta.”

A man after my own heart. “Let’s.”

“After you,” my husband said, and gestured to the door.

• • • 

I hadn’t expected Dr. Ben to be there when we pulled up in front of the house on Cabot, but his car was back in the driveway, where it hadn’t been when we drove by earlier. When we walked in, he was sitting at the table, indulging in food he had probably had to leave earlier, and which had been kept warm for him by Cora.

He looked up and waved when he saw us, but didn’t stop eating. Cora turned from the sink, smiling. “Derek. And Avery. Good to see you.”

Unlike Aunt Inga’s house, which was still an unholy mess, the Folk Victorian was pristine. Cora was just finishing putting the dinner plates and pots and pans in the dishwasher and wiping down the counter. The floors were clean, the place was neat, and she didn’t look like she’d been through hell earlier in the day.

“How many people came through here on the tour?” I asked suspiciously. Because I’d lost count at two hundred fourteen, and if she’d only had fifty or so, maybe that explained how her place looked so together while mine was such a mess.

“A few hundred,” Cora said. “Brownie?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” My husband took a seat across from his father at the table. “Dad.”

Dr. Ben nodded, still in the process of eating.

“You had time to make brownies?” I watched Cora pull a tray out of the oven. They were still warm, and when she put a scoop of ice cream on top, and drizzled caramel sauce over that, the ice cream started melting. My mouth watered.

She glanced at me. “They’ve been gone for several hours by now.”

True. But . . . “I don’t have the energy to do anything. Derek had to take me out for sandwiches, because I couldn’t face cooking anything after baking eight dozen cookies.”

“We did have enough energy for something,” Derek reminded me, fork already halfway to his mouth. I blushed. Dr. Ben grinned, and so did Cora.

Derek turned to his dad. “We were on our way down the hill when we saw the lights outside the Silvas’ house. How’s Henrietta?”

Dr. Ben’s face darkened. “She didn’t make it.”

Oh, no. My heart sank. “She died?”

He nodded. “DOA. Dead on arrival at the hospital. They tried to revive her, but there was nothing anyone could do. Her heart had stopped and refused to start again.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s hard,” Dr. Ben said. “But at least it wasn’t unexpected. I knew she had heart problems. So did she. So did her family.”

“Was it the stress, do you think?”

“I imagine it was.” He pushed his plate away, and nodded thanks to Cora when she swooped in and removed it to the sink. “There’ve been a lot of shocks in her life this week. The home tour on top of it may have been too much.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down next to Derek, who was happily digging into his brownie à la mode. “Does that happen a lot? That stress brings on a heart attack?”

“Hard to say,” Dr. Ben said judiciously. “Stress is a contributing factor to heart disease, we do know that much. Once the heart disease is present, a heart attack can come at any time. Stress won’t always trigger one, but I wouldn’t rule out that it could.”

“There’s no question that it was her heart, right?”

He shook his head, and smiled at Cora as she put a brownie in front of him. “No, no question at all.”

Cora sat down beside Dr. Ben with her own brownie, and I lifted my fork and devoted myself to mine. We’d had enough sadness for one evening, and besides, my suspicions about Henry and Kerri were just that—suspicions—since I hadn’t been able to convince even myself that if they were carrying on a clandestine affair, it was anything like a motive for wanting Henrietta out of the way.