“That’s very understanding of you.” Jesse took another bite of her bagel.
“Also, Mr. Hardy, or Lawrence, is about to tell the five people on that island how Vivian’s death is going to affect the rest of their lives. I imagine he was relieved to find two people who won’t be affected by the terms of Amanda’s will.”
“Isn’t it awfully sudden for him to be doing this? She just died, and he’s here already to read her will?”
Vivian finished her tea and looked down the walkway to confirm they were alone. “I’m sure there’s a reason. There will be a funeral to arrange as well as other immediate matters to deal with. He is, quite likely, the executor, so his presence will be needed. I would imagine he has already met with the others in Myrtle Grove. Otherwise, they would need to be here.”
“Having money sure makes death more complicated.” Jesse took a last drink of her tea and stared out over the water. Islands rose from the sea, looking like hills in the distance and deceptively close. Sunlight glittered like molten silver on the water’s surface, beckoning with promises of wonder. “I guess I’ll go a little easier on old Larry. I sure wouldn’t want to be in his shoes right now.”
Vivian stood and tossed more than enough to cover their bill onto the table. “Let’s shove off. I bet we can find our way back to the boat just fine on our own.”
“Tell me this is going to be fun, Viv.” Jesse hooked her arm through Vivian’s.
“It’s going to be fun, Jesselyn, dear. We’re off on an adventure, and it’s going to be fun, and challenging and probably a little sad.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Jesse leaned closer to her friend and mentor of a lifetime and hugged the arm she held. “If Amanda really was murdered, it’s all going to be so sad.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Okay, before we get there, let’s get this straight,” Vivian said. “On the island, there’s going to be Helen’s daughter Treena, Mandy’s daughter Celeste, and a housekeeper that we know nothing about.”
“Nettie Shoemacher,” Jesse confirmed, “a mystery character.” She glanced at the file downloaded on her phone from SueAnn’s email. “According to SueAnn, Ms. Shoemacher’s a local. Uh, let’s see, born on the island. She worked on the estate when she was younger, and it looks like maybe her parents worked there, too.”
“Maybe?” Vivian asked. “Maybe Nettie was housekeeper before? Maybe her mother was, too? Are these just guesses, or might we actually have information?”
“Wild guesses, I think. Or as I refer to it, educated speculation.”
“Oh, yes, I much prefer the sound of that,” Vivian said. “So unless someone confesses, we don’t have much to go on in solving Amanda’s death.”
“Unfortunately,” Jesse agreed. “But without a confession or like… maybe, camera footage of the crime… speculation is probably the best we’re going to get.”
“But you know I’m not going to be satisfied with that, Jesselyn. I’m a spoiled woman who’s used to getting her own way, and I’m not going to be happy until I know what really happened.”
“I know, Viv. And I admire that in you, but I can’t make any promises. We got lucky the first two times when we got confessions, and we can’t expect it again. If somebody’s done a good enough job of making Amanda’s death look like an accident, we could hit a brick wall here.”
“Just who the hell are you, anyway?”
The indignant voice from behind them sent a jolt through Jesse. Male, deep, and accusing, it triggered a knee-jerk reaction of guilt in her until she remembered she hadn’t done anything. They weren’t even on the island.
“Excuse me?!” she shot back. “Who are…”
Whipping around to face her accuser, she found herself staring into what she realized were the pale green eyes of Gordon Pitts. Her irritation melted into confusion. “Oh, hello, how did you get behind us?”
His jaw twitched with tension, and his icy gaze stared back at her, unflinching. “Bethany said you were friends of the family. You sound more like nosey Nellies to me, or maybe reporters.”
His upper lip curled on the last word, and Jesse had the uncomfortable feeling they were about to be left on Lopez Island waiting for the next ferry back to the mainland. He wasn’t just irritated. He was furious, and she had no idea why.
“Young man, can I be honest with you?” Vivian asked.
“I wish somebody would be,” he snapped back at her.
“I knew Amanda before she was ever married to Brandon Carmichael. I was at her house two days ago, only a few hours after she left on the trip that brought her here. Everyone was confused, because she hadn’t been planning a trip, and then she died the same night she got here.”
“Are you going somewhere with this? Because I can tell you that Amanda was impulsive. She did things like that.”
“Yes, I’m going somewhere with this, and in all honesty, Mr. Pitts, I don’t appreciate your attitude. I’m angered and saddened by Amanda’s death. This trip was no whim on her part. I want to know what happened, and I would have expected you to feel the same way.”
The man’s indignation faltered, showing the first signs of uncertainty. “Of course I care what happened to Amanda! But what’s that got to do with you? Why are you here?”
Jesse held her breath, afraid to interfere with whatever tactic Vivian was taking. This man was their only way onto the island. If he decided not to take them, they would have to phone Bethany for help, something Jesse was loath to do.
“You know who I am and why we’re here,” Vivian continued. “And to suggest that we’re merely curiosity seekers is ridiculous. I don’t know what your problem is unless you’re afraid we’ll discover your criminal record.”
He sucked in a breath and jerked his head up in a defiant glare.
“We already know about that.” Vivian’s tone softened. “And if Amanda trusted you, then we trust you. So unless you had something to do with her death, I have no idea why our private conversation would upset you.”
“No one had anything to do with Amanda’s death,” he argued. “It was an accident!”
“No one’s saying it wasn’t.” Jesse stepped into the conversation, hoping her voice didn’t sound as impatient as she was feeling. They needed to calm him down and get underway again. Bethany was waiting for them, and they had wasted enough time with an argument that seemed to have no point.
“You did!” he said.
“Oh, good grief!” Vivian snapped. “Can’t an old woman be left to gossip in peace without some man coming along to make a federal case out of it? I’m tired, and I’m cold, and I want to get where I’m going so I can put on some dry clothes.”
The last few words took on a querulous whine that Jesse had never heard from Vivian in the lifetime she had known her. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Vivian must have just realized the same thing Jesse had. They needed to start moving.
Stalking off toward the boat, Vivian called, “Come along, Jesselyn, and take my arm. I’m done with all this fuss.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jesse hurried to catch up and slipped her arm under Vivian’s. “There, just lean on me,” she said at a volume meant to carry. Then, trying not to laugh, she added in a whisper, “Are you okay? That must have been painful.”
Vivian glanced toward her with eyes that sparkled. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like on the stage. I may have missed my calling.”
“He’s seriously guarding something,” Jesse murmured. She did a quick check over her shoulder to make sure he wasn’t on their heels again before adding, “And with Amanda dead, I can’t imagine what it could be.”
“We’ll soon figure it out. Now, help me onto the boat while I act feeble until we’re on our way. Wouldn’t want to offend anyone else before we get where we’re going.”
“And then what?”
Vivian smiled. “And then? Well, I don’t think we’re going to find any answers without stirring the pot just a bit, do you?�
�
Jesse leaned closer and returned Vivian’s smile. “I love the way you think, Viv. I truly do.”
~~~~~
Jesse felt her heartbeat kick into overdrive as they passed through a narrow gap in the coastline and entered a half-moon cove. A sandy beach edged the sheltered body of water all the way to its entrance, where a rugged barrier of boulders faced the sea.
Above the beach, lush green forest blocked out everything but a rocky path that climbed from the sand, through the trees and out of sight. A single pier extended far enough into the water to accommodate several boats on either side. Two were currently tied up. As the sporty red runabout circled around to dock on the empty side of the pier, Jesse could see that the other boats bore the insignias of the San Juan Islands Sheriff’s Department, a grim reminder of what waited ashore.
“I see the police are here,” Vivian said. “I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“They were here most of yesterday. Don’t see how they could have any questions that haven’t been answered,” Gordon said.
Lawrence Hardy shifted in his seat. “I hope nothing else has happened.”
“Like what?” the other man demanded, apparently still touchy on the whole subject.
“Like anything.” Hardy sounded like a man who didn’t like being questioned. “This is going to be complicated enough as it is. Amanda didn’t exactly leave a simple will. And there’s quite a bit of property involved here.”
“I take it that you are her executor?” Vivian asked.
“Not at all. Her executor will be arriving later today. He’s been on an Alaskan cruise and is getting off in Victoria rather than going on to Seattle. He’ll be coming by private boat from there.”
“How very exotic.” Vivian raised her brows and made a surprised face just for Jesse. “I can’t wait to meet the fellow.”
Gordon wove his way between the others, tossed the fore and aft lines onto the pier and bounded after them.
“I don’t envy him his task,” Hardy continued. “He’s sure to be busy once he gets here. As will I. Not a lot of time for chitchat, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, yes, I know exactly what you mean.” Vivian rolled her eyes in disgust, again just for Jesse. “We will endeavor not to get in the way of your men’s work.”
In the space of that exchange, the shore lines were tied and the ends neatly coiled. Gordon hopped back aboard to silence the engine and retrieve the luggage he had stowed below. When he carried the bags onto the dock, Jesse noticed her backpack was tied to Vivian’s beach carry-on.
He turned and reached down. “If you’ll take my hand, I’ll help you ashore.”
Vivian graciously took his hand, stepped up onto the edge of the boat and then crossed to the floating dock.
“I’ll bring the bags and lead the way once everyone is off the boat,” Gordon instructed. His gaze followed Vivian’s as she eyed her carry-on.
Taking the hint, she wandered on down the pier and was quickly joined by Jesse. Together, they studied the police boats.
“Intimidating, aren’t they?”
“I don’t know why,” Jesse acknowledged. “We haven’t done anything we shouldn’t. Yet.”
Just as she said that, Gordon went past them, a luggage handle in each hand. “Will you ladies need any assistance across the sand?” He slowed for their answer.
Jesse studied the ramp connecting the floating dock to the beach. The angle was slight, which indicated they were near low tide. The sand was damp and hard packed almost all the way to the footpath, and their shoes were low-heeled and sturdy.
“I think we’ll be just fine, thank you,” she said.
“I’ll be close behind you, if there’s a problem,” Hardy added.
Vivian looked back over her shoulder and gave him a big smile. “Why thank you so much.” She tossed in an eye flutter and a slight southern accent to her words.
He cleared his throat. “Why, uh, yes, ma’am. My pleasure.”
He sounded flustered, and Jesse was pretty sure if she turned around she would see him blushing ever so slightly. Vivian was still a beautiful woman in spite of her years and not above exerting her feminine wiles when the need arose.
And one surefire way to arouse Vivian’s need was to pat her on the head and imply that she shouldn’t strain her little brain because she had a man there to handle things. One of the traits Jesse admired most about Vivian was that she didn’t tolerate fools well but was subtle enough that most of them never knew it.
The rest of the walk was a pleasure. The path climbed, becoming less sandy with more small rocks mixed in as it went. The footing was good, and the path was clear on their trek through the woods of mainly cedar and fir.
Occasionally, Jesse noticed a smaller tree with multicolored, peeling bark that made her want to stop and stare. But Gordon was moving forward at a steady pace, and Lawrence Hardy’s heavy, determined breathing was right on her heels.
Vivian looked around as she walked, pointing to a dense cluster of ferns or a patch of woodland violets. Jesse was delighted to find a patch of wild Solomon’s Seal, looking like a large lily of the valley with its dainty, bell-like flowers.
Then the trees thinned, the light brightened and the path turned to crushed limestone. A few yards later, the forest fell away completely, and they stepped into a wide, rolling field of green. It swept out around them, sloping upward. A white ribbon of limestone wandered its way across the open ground toward a manicured lawn dotted with daffodils.
The path climbed past a bench here, a cluster of shade trees there. Mounting the peak of the hill finally, it circled a bed of flowers and arrived, like something from a fairytale, at the feet of a great Queen Anne Victorian. Clad all in white with wide, rounded porches, bay windows, turrets and balconies, the house rose three stories high.
“Okay.” Vivian stood spellbound, staring into the distance. “I begin to see the appeal of this place.”
“It looks like a hotel,” Jesse whispered, not sure she wanted anyone else to hear her comment.
“Yes, it does, a little bit. I wonder if Amanda gave any thought to that.”
“You think she might have?”
“What woman with a dog, one companion, and four servants needed something of this size?” Vivian asked. “Even Amanda didn’t have that much vanity.”
“I think we can find our own way to the house now,” Hardy said, addressing Gordon. “If you could go on ahead and round up the other four residents, I’d like to get this first part over with as soon as possible. No need everyone trying to be polite while all they can think about is what Amanda’s last will and testament bequeaths.”
“Doesn’t seem respectful,” Gordon answered. “But I suppose you’re right. The others will be wanting to know.”
“How about you?” the lawyer demanded. “You’re not curious?”
“I know well enough what my future holds. At least enough that I’m not spouting pipedreams the way some others are. I’ll put your luggage in your rooms,” Gordon said with a nod to Jesse and Vivian. “You have adjoining bedrooms at the top of the staircase. I’ll leave your doors open.”
Walking quickly, he drew away, and after a moment Vivian leaned toward Jesse. “I hope that’s not the same staircase Amanda was found on,” she murmured. “Apparently, they’re not treating it as a crime scene.”
Jesse suppressed a groan. Walking into a home where someone had just died was not going to be pleasant under any circumstances. But one where so many questions were unanswered and so many lives were affected was little short of a nightmare.
“Crime scene?” Lawrence Hardy asked, demonstrating either excellent hearing or Vivian’s abysmal whispering abilities. “Why in the world would they treat it as a crime scene? She fell down the stairs. Probably tripped over that dog she took everywhere she went.”
“Uh…” Just then Jesse noticed a tall, sturdy woman, who clutched something in her arms, run down the front steps of the house and straight tow
ard Gordon, who was on the circular walkway almost to the front entrance.
The woman paused when she reached him, and they appeared to be in deep, hurried conversation. When she took a step to move beyond him, his hand caught her arm and stayed her for a moment longer. He glanced over his shoulder to where Jesse, Vivian and Mr. Hardy were making unhurried progress toward them. Then the woman took two steps backward and out of Gordon’s reach before she moved around him and hurried onward down the path, practically running toward the three new arrivals.
As she drew near, Jesse recognized Bethany as much from the melting dark eyes of the Cavalier spaniel in her embrace as from the woman herself. Cheeks flushed pink from exertion, hair awry, eyes bright, almost feverish, Bethany O’Connor at first seemed nothing like the hesitant woman Jesse had met only days earlier, a woman whose emotional delicacy was starkly at odds with her stalwart appearance.
“Oh, thank God, you’re here,” Bethany cried. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you! Thank you so much for coming. I’ve been beside myself waiting for you to arrive!”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed and rubbed them away with the back of her hand. “Silly me. I’m sorry to be such a basket case. I really have to pull myself together.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Gordon stood on the front steps, looking toward them.
Bethany turned back, her movements jerky, her eyes red. “The police are here, you know. They want her death to be an accident, but to placate me, they are questioning everyone again. They want me to just shut up and let it be done with.”
Like tiny waterfalls, tears dribbled over her lower lid and ran in a stream down her cheeks. Pooling along her jaw line, they dripped onto the ground. This time Bethany made no attempt to wipe them away. “I can’t do that. I can’t let Amanda’s murder be shoved under a rug like that.”
Behind them, Hardy gasped. “See here, young lady, you can’t go around saying things like that. It was an accident, and everyone knows it. There’s been no murder done here.”
Murder on a Silver Sea (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 3) Page 10
