The Wedding Shawl (22 page)

“Before the talk, I just did a cursory scan of the articles. I wanted a framework of a cold case, that was all. But I went back to my notes after that article showed up about Harmony and Tiffany. Lots of teenagers were interviewed back then, and many of the comments were the same—‘I didn’t hang out with her,’ ‘didn’t know her,’ that sort of thing. But Tiffany was interviewed several times, as you’d suppose.

“Harmony’s mother wasn’t very accessible, I don’t think, and the father all but pulled out a shotgun when people tried to get close. His only comments seemed to be condemning the mother. It was all her fault, in his mind.”

“She has her own demons to deal with,” Nell said. “She allowed Harmony to go to the party that night. It’s something she’s still dealing with, all these years later. But Harmony was her own agent. And you can’t stop a seventeen-year-old from living her life, no matter how hard her father tried to do that.”

“At least Harmony had a mother who loved her dearly,” Birdie said. “And maybe her father did, too, in his own way. Tiffany’s home life was the opposite. She was pretty much on her own.”

Danny leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “Which may have explained her relationship with Harmony. It was probably the one solid thing in her life. And like I said, she was quoted a lot. One reporter, in particular, got to know her a little. He probably made Tiffany feel secure. When he asked her about her friendship with Harmony, she talked about it at length, about how inseparable they were. And then she said something I found a little curious.” Danny took a drink of Cass’ iced tea, then went on.

“Tiffany said that she was the only person Harmony shared everything with. The way the reporter wrote it, she was saying it as a matter of great pride. She told the guy that she was the only one who really knew Harmony’s secrets.”

“Secrets?”

Danny nodded. “And when the reporter asked her what the secrets were, that maybe it was something that would help people understand her friend’s tragic death, Tiffany was clear in her answer—and she said she’d tell the police the same thing if they asked.”

“It sounds like a dramatic teenager getting attention she sorely lacked in her life,” Birdie said.

“Could be,” Danny said.

“What was it she said? What was her answer?” Cass asked with some impatience.

“She said, ‘You’ll never know. I’ll take Harmony’s secret with me to my grave.’ ”

Chapter 21

T
hey all left shortly after, Cass and Danny wandering down Canary Cove Road to look at Willow Adams’ new fiber arts display and perhaps come across the perfect wedding gift for Sam and Izzy. A formidable task, they both admitted.

Nell and Birdie drove in the opposite direction, toward Harbor Road and their homes.

They drove in silence for a while, each sifting and sorting through the conversations that had pummeled them in the past few days. When Nell finally spoke, it was with a heaviness that they’d both carried away from the Artist’s Palate.

“So much of what we’ve heard lately paints Andy in a terrible light,” Nell said. “A part of me wants to put a halt to all conversation. And then have a nor’easter come and blow it all away.”

Birdie agreed. “But the other part wants to talk to everyone who ever had any contact with Tiffany Ciccolo, so we can figure out what this woman was all about and why in heaven’s name anyone would want to put an end to her life.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what we need to do, Birdie. Sheila’s arrival last night cut our evening short. We need to gather up Cass and Izzy and peel apart the layers of Tiffany’s life. Surely we’ll find something there that will relieve Andy of this burden.”

And Claire, too, Nell thought. Her distaste for Tiffany was controlled when she talked to Ben and Nell about her daughter’s best friend. And it had been with the police as well, she supposed.

But the expression on her face when she saw Tiffany standing in Nell’s doorway the day before she was killed was not controlled in the slightest.

Nell turned left onto Harbor Road and slowed just in time to avoid two teenagers in beach gear, cell phones pressed against their ears, walking slowly across the street.

“Do you have a minute?” Nell asked, spotting a parking spot in front of McClucken’s Hardware Store. “I’d like to check in on M.J. and see how she’s doing.”

Birdie gave a thumbs-up, and Nell backed into a spot between two small cars.

“It’s odd that Tiffany didn’t have more friends here,” Nell said. She pulled the key out of the ignition and dropped it in her purse.

“Some people do fine with just a friend or two. Look at my Ella and Harold.”

That was true enough. As far as anyone knew, Birdie’s groundsman and housekeeper had Birdie as a friend. And that was it, except for a brief friendship Ella once had with a neighbor who had died. Their world was small, and they were utterly content to live within it. Perhaps that was Tiffany’s choice, too. But somehow it seemed a sad choice for a sweet young person.

As usual on a Friday, M.J.’s salon was buzzing with activity. Animated chatter, bursts of laughter, and the soft hum of hair dryers filled the mint-scented air. Fit young bodies moved effortlessly, escorting clients from the waiting lounge to the softly lit hair-washing room, to the line of styling stations and swivel chairs.

Nell and Birdie waved to Margaret Garozzo, her wet hair combed out and waiting for a trim. In the next chair, her teenage granddaughter sat patiently waiting for strands of long brown hair to be wrapped in foil.

Tanya Gordon looked up from the desk. Her eyes widened in greeting. “Hey, you two. I mean, hello. Welcome. I bet you’re looking for the boss. One sec.” She disappeared down the back hallway and was back just as quickly. “M.J. said to go on back. She’s in her office.” Her smile was huge, and her step light.

Nell found herself looking back at the young woman as she walked down the hall, wondering about the sudden change. The last time she had seen Tanya, she was glum and spiritless. Today she was filled with sunlight.

They found M.J. at her desk and nearly hidden behind a pile of papers. A young man wearing a belt filled with carpenter tools stood nearby.

She stood and hurried around the desk, thrusting a stack of paint samples into his hand, then turned toward Birdie and Nell. “I’m so glad to see you both. Sanity. That’s what you mean to me.” Her eyes were sad but her greeting gracious. “It’s been quite a week, you know?”

Birdie gave the salon owner a quick hug. “We know.”

“This is Tim.” She turned back to the young worker. “He works for D. J. Delaney’s construction company. They’re doing a little remodeling job for me. D. J. is even giving me a deal, if you can believe it.”

“The basement,” Nell guessed.

M.J. nodded. “An indoor staircase, for starters, paint, new walls.”

Tim moved toward the door. “And I need to get back to it.”

“Tanya will show you where everything is,” M.J. said.

Tim tipped his ball cap toward them and disappeared.

Birdie looked at M.J. with the look they all knew meant “Let me have my say,” and then said, “M.J., even if you’d had a staircase, this would have happened, dear. You cannot take the burden of this on yourself, none of it, not one iota.”

M.J.’s semblance of a smile was appreciative. But whether she could believe in Birdie’s words just yet was doubtful. It was her salon. Her employee. Her basement. “A part of me knows that, Birdie. The other part …” “It will come, dear, once we find out who did this.”

“A hair salon can be a hotbed for rumors,” M.J. said. “I ignore it most of the time, but with Tiffany’s death, any mention of her name puts me on alert. I keep thinking I’ll hear something worthwhile, something that will make me say, ‘Of course! That’s what happened.’”

“And instead you’re probably hearing things that make you cringe.”

“Yes. Lots of innocent people get caught up in these things… .” She hesitated for a minute, then went on. “I had coffee with Auggie McClucken this morning. He said he saw Claire Russell that night. She was walking down Harbor Road. Headed toward the salon.”

Birdie and Nell looked at each other. They remembered that night with startling clarity. Claire, her head down, walking down Harbor Road.

But she could have been going anywhere. To the Gull. Or the little café that stayed open late, which was what Nell had decided when she’d looked back on that evening with Ben. “She may have just been out for a walk,” Nell said quietly. “It was a nice night, if I remember correctly. Birdie and I were on Harbor Road that night, too. And lots of other people.”

“Of course,” M.J. said. “But that’s what I mean, stories spinning out of control all over the place. You want to get out the broom and sweep it all away. Bring order back into our lives.”

“Hopefully the sweeping will be done soon,” Birdie said. “But in the meantime, we wanted to check on you, dear. And to see if there’s anything we can do.”

“You’re angels, both of you. It’s been hard, keeping the salon team on track. I had one young girl quit. Her mother was afraid for her safety, she said.”

Nell frowned. “I’m so sorry. That’s silly, of course, but this whole thing has rekindled old fears, I think. Especially with the connection between Tiffany and Harmony.”

M.J. nodded. “I know that rationally. And we’re doing our best. The young women who work here are wonderful for the most part, but they’ve gotten caught up in it, too. None of them were close friends of Tiffany’s, which in a way is bad. There’s no one to be loyal to her memory. So instead, they dissect it all with a kind of detachment, wondering who did it, who didn’t, but it seems disrespectful, somehow. They’ve pointed fingers all over the place—deliverymen, the Fractured Fish… . They’ve even accused Tanya.”

“She wasn’t crazy about Tiffany; I remember that from the day Izzy and I were here—”

“That’s right, I forgot. You saw Tanya with her claws out. But good grief, she’s not a murderer; she was simply jealous. Tiff had pulled her life together, gotten some sophistication, and Tanya was a ways off from that. But she’s really trying. She drives me crazy sometimes, but I think the girl has potential.”

M.J. glanced down at a notepad on the table, then frowned. “Another thing I need to take care of. I talked to Tiffany’s sister yesterday. Have you met her?”

“We have. She’s a knitter, and wandered into the shop last night.”

“She seems nice enough. This must be difficult for her. I guess we all share a bit of guilt when it comes to Tiffany.”

“I’m sure she has the bigger chunk.”

“Maybe. I suggested she come by to pick up Tiffany’s personal things. She said she’d try to find time but didn’t sound happy about it. Maybe it’s just too difficult for her. But Tim needs to get in that office soon, so I may have to have Tanya box up her things.”

Somehow the thought of Tanya going through Tiffany’s things seemed wrong. Nell looked at Birdie and read the same thought on her face.

“Why don’t we do it for you?” she said.

Birdie glanced at her watch, then agreed. “Good idea, and if the work crew needs to get in there soon, we might be able to do it now. Nell?”

“Now would be perfect.”

“We’ll be seeing Sheila tomorrow and can take the things to her.”

“You’re amazing, both of you. That’d be a terrific help,” M.J. said. “I don’t think there’s too much, but I don’t want the workers in there until her personal things are removed. And it’s crazy up here in the salon or I’d do it myself. Tiffany kept things running so smoothly, and losing her is like losing five staff members, not one. You’re lifesavers.” M.J. walked to her desk and made a quick phone call to the front to tell her assistant, Lynn, where she was, then headed for the door.

Birdie and Nell collected their bags and followed her down the back hall.

Nell paused at the foot of the outside stairs, her hand still on the railing, her mind still on the rumors that M.J. was having to live with every day. “M.J., was Tiffany distracted by anything that last week? She had missed the appointment with us—were there other things that maybe the staff noticed?”

“Maybe a few. I think she was distracted. For a few weeks, actually. Relationship difficulties, I think.”

“With Andy?”

“I think so. The girls up front said they were together, a couple, for a while, and that Tiffany was obsessed with him—they tend to exaggerate, though, so I hear everything with half an ear. ‘The drummer,’ they called him when they were teasing her. Frankly, I think they were jealous. Andy, Merry, and Pete have become rock stars around here.

“But to your question—Tiff didn’t confide in me much, but she did talk about Andy some. She told me about their high school friendship and how nice it was to be together again. She talked about his music, going to the Fractured Fish concerts, that sort of thing. Her face definitely lit up when she said his name and I suspect it’s a feeling she’s harbored for a long time.

“Alex and I don’t exactly hang out in the same places as the younger crowd does, so I didn’t see them together, but Tanya brought in reports now and then, much to Tiffany’s chagrin.”

“Did Tiffany ever mention Harmony to you?”

“Yes. And that’s why it unnerved me that night when Danny brought up her murder at the book club. Tiffany always seemed a bit fragile. I didn’t want this rocking her boat. And then all this happened and it was like a dam burst.

“I didn’t know for a long time that Tiffany knew Harmony. But one night she stayed late to help me with something and she got to talking about it. She told me that her best friend had been murdered, how awful that night had been. I got the feeling it was the first time she had ever had anyone to talk to about it.”

“So she told you about the night Harmony died?”

“Yes. A lot of it was in the paper, but she talked about the party, and that Harmony was supposed to spend the night at her house. They were going to exchange graduation presents, and she’d stocked up on ‘sleepover’ food—late-night frozen pizza, doughnuts for breakfast, that kind of thing. She thought Andy would come by for breakfast, too. It might have been a normal thing for some kids, but it was a big deal to her. A special event.