Silver Anniversary Murder Page 22

  “And you were with him the whole time? He couldn’t have gone to see her?”

  “No way. We were together all morning.”

  “Other cult members? Those enforcer guys in the white robes? Could they have done it?”

  “No, because whenever Father Gabe went out he made sure the mission was secure. He always ordered them to remain in the front hall to make sure nobody came or left.”

  Lucy was silent, absorbing this information.

  After a bit, Terry spoke. “Are you okay?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well, like I said, I’m really, really sorry.”

  Lucy was suddenly angry, furious with Terry. “That’s a whole lot of hooey. It’s not enough to say you’re sorry—you need to make it right. If you’re really sorry you’ll go straight to the police and tell them everything you know. And if that means you’ll be punished, and I really, truly hope you will be, you deserve it.”

  This time, the phone went dead.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucy sat silently on the sofa, her mind in a whirl. Could Terry be telling the truth? Was it actually possible that Father Gabe didn’t kill Beth? That he was so busy rounding up homeless kids and trafficking them, transporting illegal drugs, cooking the books, laundering money, and screwing the faithful that he simply didn’t have time to commit murder. It was possible, she supposed, especially since they’d been divorced for nearly thirty years. What motive could he have after so many years?

  Maybe it really was suicide. Maybe Beth had been overwhelmed by depression, maybe she’d had a bad reaction to prescription drugs, maybe she’d been deadheading some potted plants and reached too far, lost her balance, and fell. It could’ve happened that way. Maybe it was simply the impulse of the moment, thought Lucy, remembering how quick Beth had been to try new things. Maybe she thought she’d take that final step into the unknown, just to see what awaited her there.

  Pretty darn stupid, thought Lucy, pulling off the throw and getting to her feet. She wanted to take another look at that scrap of paper Sam had given her, the purported suicide note that Detective McGuire had claimed was worthless. It was still in her purse, which she always left on the table by the kitchen door that served as a catchall for mail, sunglasses, flashlights, the dog’s leash, and pretty much anything that anybody happened to be carrying when they came indoors.

  Sue always teased Lucy about the size of her bag, which was roomy enough to hold her reporter’s notebook, camera, and a large number of pens as well as a mini-first aid kit, car keys, a pouch for coupons, a wallet with checkbook and ATM card but little cash, pack of tissues, reading glasses, and sunglasses. There was also a zippered pocket in which she stowed important things she feared might get lost in the chaos, and that’s where she found the little scrap of gray paper in its plastic sandwich bag. It hadn’t changed; the words in Beth’s scrawling handwriting were the same:

  Forgive me. I can’t go on like this. It’s better this way . . .

  Lucy studied it, wishing there was more. The paper was torn after the word way, and Lucy suspected that had been done intentionally by whoever received the note. Beth had obviously continued the sentence to specify what she meant, and Lucy was pretty sure this was a breakup note, not a suicide note. But somebody had wanted to provide evidence that Beth had considered suicide in the past, which would make it seem more likely that she’d actually gone ahead and done it. And she figured that whoever that somebody was, that person who was so eager to claim Beth had killed herself, was in truth Beth’s killer.

  “You’re up,” said Bill, coming into the kitchen with his wet paintbrush. “Have you got an old coffee can or something?”

  “Check the recycling bin in the pantry,” said Lucy, who was still holding the note.

  Bill stepped into the pantry and emerged with an empty tomato can, which he filled with water, then added the brush. “All done. It looks nice. You should check it out.”

  Lucy looked out the window. “Wow. That railing really needed paint.”

  “Yeah.” Bill was at the sink, filling a glass with water. “It’s the sort of thing you don’t notice, kind of creeps up on you. It’s a big improvement.” He drank the water. “What’cha got there?”

  “It’s supposed to be Beth’s suicide note. Somebody sent it to Sam.”

  “Why do you have it?”

  “Sam gave it to me.”

  Bill was silent and Lucy could practically hear the wheels turning in his brain. “Don’t tell me you went to New York to investigate Beth’s death and that’s how you got tangled up in that cult. Did you, Lucy? Is that what happened?”

  “Sort of,” admitted Lucy.

  “You told me you just wanted to get away, revisit your childhood home, get in touch with the inner you. You lied to me.”

  “No. All those things were true, but I also wanted to come to grips with Beth’s death.”

  “Coming to grips is different from conducting an investigation, Lucy. And look where it got you.”

  “I know,” admitted Lucy. “It was a stupid thing to do and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Lucy,” said Bill, in a stern voice. Lucy was uncomfortably aware that he sounded quite a bit like she must have sounded when she scolded Terry. “Promise me you’ll leave this alone. It’s over. Time to move on.”

  “I promise,” said Lucy. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. I have to accept the fact that I’ll probably never know what happened to Beth, and that’s okay. I have my own life to live.”

  “Good.” He stepped close and embraced her, stroking her head. “I don’t want to have to go through anything like that again. I thought I’d lost you and it was awful. The absolute worst.”

  Lucy nestled her head into his shoulder. “I’m here. I love you. I won’t leave you.”

  Bill let her go. “I think I got paint on your hair.”

  “I don’t care,” said Lucy, raising her face for a kiss when her cell phone rang.

  “Leave it,” urged Bill, but Lucy was already checking the caller ID display.

  “It’s Sue,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “Hi! What’s up?”

  “News flash,” said Sue. “I just left Carriage Trade and they’ve got tunics like that one you were wearing yesterday on sale. I thought I’d let you know.”

  “Thanks, but even on sale Carriage Trade is too expensive for me.”

  “Not today it’s not. They’re ten dollars, down from a twenty-five weekend special. I bet they brought in a bunch for the weekend and got too many.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. So if I were you, I’d get down here toot sweet, ’cause at this price they’re not going to last long.”

  “I think I will. Thanks for the tip.”

  “No problem. Stop by the house after and we’ll have some iced tea and gossip. You won’t believe what I heard about Sylvia. . . .”

  “Do tell.”

  “No. Not on the phone. It would fry the wires.”

  “This is a cell phone.”

  “The tower would crash to the ground.”

  “Okay,” laughed Lucy. “See you later.”

  “So you’re going into town?” asked Bill, as Lucy pocketed her phone. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  Lucy wasn’t at all sure. Tinker’s Cove was probably still packed with the last of the Silver Anniversary weekenders. She’d never find a place to park, and what if she had another panic attack? “I guess not,” she said. “I don’t really need another tunic.”

  “What about Sue? She’s expecting you?”

  “She’ll understand. I’ll call her back.”

  “Don’t do that,” said Bill. “We’ll go together. I could use a new pair of boat shoes.”

  Lucy was shocked. Bill detested shopping. “Really?”

  “Sure. It’ll do you good. Get you back in the swim of things. And besides, Sid has a new riding lawnmower and said he’d sell me the old one.”

  Lucy knew tha
t Bill had wanted a riding mower for some time, and Sue’s husband Sid was one of those people who always had to have the newest, latest thing. The old riding mower had only been used a couple of years and Bill could probably get a good deal on it.

  “Okay,” said Lucy. She tucked the note back into her purse and swung it over her shoulder, ready to go.

  The crowds had thinned by the time Lucy and Bill reached town, and they were able to park in the lot by the harbor. The Silver Anniversary banners were still flying, however, and most of the stores were open. They checked out the shoe store, but they didn’t have his favorite boat shoes in his size. Next up was the candle shop, which had a sign advertising BUY ONE, GET TWO FREE, which Lucy had to investigate. Bill willingly accompanied her, but when she couldn’t decide between Sunfresh Linen and Very Vanilla he began to grow restless. There was a bit of a line at the checkout, so Lucy decided to skip buying the candles and suggested going straight to Carriage Trade, across the street.

  Word about the sale had spread fast and quite a few women were pawing through the tunics, which gave Lucy pause. She knew Bill wouldn’t be happy in the shop, and the bench outside was already occupied by a couple of husbands, so she decided to send him on his way while she joined the bargain hunters inside. “Why don’t you go on over to see Sid,” she suggested. They both knew the Finches’ house was only a stone’s throw away. “I’ll poke around a bit here and bring the car over and meet you there in, say, an hour?”

  Bill gave a big sigh of relief, followed by an expression of concern. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be fine,” said Lucy. “Go.”

  Lucy was able to find a pink paisley tunic in her size and bought it. Discovering she still had a half hour before she was due to meet Bill, she continued on down the street to Country Cousins, where she knew they also carried Bill’s favorite boat shoes and were advertising 25 PERCENT OFF EVERYTHING!

  Dottie Halmstad greeted Lucy warmly when she stepped inside the old-fashioned country store, which drew visitors from around the globe. “It’s great to see a friendly face,” said Dottie, who was looking rather tired. “The weekend’s been a big success, that’s for sure. Now what can I do for you?”

  When Lucy explained she was looking for a pair of size eleven boat shoes, Dottie had just the thing. “Somebody returned these,” she said. “I can let you have them for fifty percent off.”

  “Great,” said Lucy, eagerly snapping up the bargain.

  She felt quite pleased with herself and swung her shopping bags as she made her way along Main Street and down Sea Street to the parking lot, where she gave Sally Kirwan a wave. Sally was ticketing cars that had been parked illegally in unmarked spaces. She was a member of the large Kirwan clan that worked in town jobs, especially the police and fire departments. Her uncle, Jim, was the police chief.

  “Hi, Lucy,” yelled Sally. “Got a minute?”

  “Sure,” said Lucy, meeting her by a huge Navigator with New Jersey plates that was blocking a driveway.

  “Will you look at this?” asked Sally. “I know the lot was full earlier today but there are plenty of other parking places in town.”

  “Just too lazy to look, I guess,” said Lucy.

  “Or maybe figures the rules are for other people.” Sally ripped the ticket off her pad and slid it under one of the Navigator’s windshield wipers, then turned to Lucy. “I heard you had a rough time in New York. How’s it going?”

  “I have my ups and downs.”

  “That’s how it goes. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help if you need it.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” promised Lucy, amused at the young woman’s earnest attitude.

  “I’ve got a story for you, if you’re interested,” said Sally. “The department sent me to a workshop last weekend on spousal abuse, and Uncle Jim—I mean the chief—has assigned me to spearhead a program to better address the issue.”

  “Wow, that’s great,” said Lucy, who knew that abuse was a large but hidden problem in the little town.

  “Yeah. I’m going to start meeting with health care professionals to encourage them to ask their patients if they’re ever afraid at home. We’re working in the department to develop better protocols, and I’m going to be talking at the high school, too. It’s not just spouses. It can be boyfriends, too.”

  “Why don’t we set up an interview,” suggested Lucy, digging in her purse for her smartphone.

  “The sooner the better,” said Sally.

  When that bit of business was done Lucy continued on her way, taking a moment to enjoy the amazing view from the parking lot. Looking out across the blue water, she could see Quissett Point, with the white-shingled yacht club and the rocky shore dotted with tall pine trees. It was quintessential Maine and it always reminded her how lucky she was to live in such a beautiful place.

  She was loading her purchases into the back of the SUV when she heard a familiar Brooklyn accent and turned to see the tall woman Sue had remarked upon at the fashion show. No longer dressed in city black, today she was wearing a formfitting and extremely low-cut silver dress that sparkled with sequins.This time Lucy’s memory clicked and she realized the woman was Dr. Fine’s receptionist, who’d insisted she pay the $240 copay. And the man with her, who was unlocking the expensive sports car parked next to her CRV, was no one other than Dr. Fine himself.

  “Hi!” she exclaimed. “Imagine seeing you here. I was in your office last week. I’m Lucy Stone. You gave me an adjustment.”

  “Right, I remember you,” said Dr. Fine. “How’s that back?”

  “Just fine,” said Lucy. “Did you come to town for the Silver Anniversary Weekend?”

  “We did,” said his companion, chiming in so enthusiastically that her bosom jiggled and Lucy wondered if she’d had a drink or three with her lunch. “I saw the ad in the Times and I thought how this is our twenty-fifth year of being together, if you know what I mean. We’ve only actually been married for twenty-three years; he had a wife to get rid of and she didn’t make it easy, did she?”

  Dr. Fine seemed a bit uneasy at the direction the conversation was taking and jangled his car keys. “We better be going. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “Are you going back to the city?” asked Lucy.

  “I hate to leave. It’s so nice here. We stayed at this gorgeous B and B, the Queen Something or other,” said Mrs. Fine. “I’m Ronnie, by the way.”

  “So you’re married and work together, too?” asked Lucy, slamming down the rear hatch door. “You really deserve to be congratulated.”

  “It hasn’t been easy, that’s for sure,” said Ronnie, eager to chat with her new best friend.

  Lucy saw that Dr. Fine had opened the passenger door for his wife, but Ronnie was ignoring him, unwilling to drop a favorite line of conversation.

  “Second marriages are hard—everybody says so—because there’s not just the two of you in the marriage, but the ex and the kid and, in our case, the ex’s first and second husbands.” She rolled her eyes, which were heavily made up with plenty of gloppy mascara, dark eye shadow, and dramatic swoops of black eye liner. “You’d think he’d have better sense than to get involved with a woman going on her third marriage, wouldn’t you?”

  Lucy shrugged and attempted to step past Ronnie so she could get in her car, intent on escaping what was fast becoming an awkward situation. “What is it they say? The heart wants what it wants—something like that.”

  Ronnie grabbed her arm and leaned close, so close that Lucy could smell the alcohol on her breath. “He wanted me, the naughty boy. But that wife of his, she simply wouldn’t accept the fact that their marriage was over. She was always after him. At first it was for more alimony, even child support, which was crazy since Colin here wasn’t even the kid’s father. And then, wouldn’t you know it, she married that billionaire Jeremy Blake and moved into the same apartment building as Colin’s mom. Talk about awkward—they were always bumping into each other, at least that’s what she cl
aimed, but I know better. She used to lie in wait for him, peering out the little peephole in her door, trying to catch him when he visited his mother.”

  That was interesting, thought Lucy. Dr. Fine’s mother lived in Beth’s building, apparently on the same penthouse level. Now she wanted to hear more, but Dr. Fine had other ideas.

  “That’s enough, dear,” he said. “We really have to go.”

  Dr. Fine took his wife’s arm, attempting to guide her into the car, but she was having none of it. “She was one crazy bitch, that woman,” she said, planting her feet and digging in. “Do you know what she did? Here she was, living on the penthouse level, married to a billionaire, had everything a woman could possibly want, which in my case would be not having to work in my husband’s office tracking down those weasly insurance companies and deadbeat patients.... Well, to make a long story short, Madame Blake just took it into her head one fine day to jump off her balcony, up there on the twenty-second floor.” She gave a sharp nod. “With predictable results.”

  “Okay, dear. That’s very interesting, but I don’t think we should hold up Mrs. Stone. . . .” The doctor raised himself to his full height, then bent down and took his wife quite firmly by the shoulder, attempting to shove her into the low-slung sports car. The doctor’s shape, bent over, flashed in her brain, superimposed over a similar image. It was the shadowy shape of the intruder, who’d broken into her apartment in New York.

  Of course, she realized, picturing the note in her purse. Beth’s supposed suicide note. It was written on a prescription pad. That’s why the paper had looked so familiar. It had been torn off a prescription pad. Suddenly, it was as if her brain was on fire. Everything was falling into place. He had a motive: The newly assertive Beth was threatening to reveal his profitable sideline writing prescriptions for painkillers. He had the means: Beth’s penthouse balcony. And he had the opportunity: after paying a visit to his mother he would have the freedom of the building without being caught on the CCTV in the lobby. Lucy was seeing Colin Fine with new eyes and her reaction was to run, to get away as fast as she could. She yanked open the car door and practically leaped inside, starting the engine.