A Murder in Mohair

by Anne Canadeo

  Charles took hold of the bike and rolled it along. “I’ll give you a lift home. You can come to the station later and sign a statement.”

  That plan suited Lucy just fine.

  She longed to be back in her quiet, snug cottage. To stand under a long hot shower and scrub the sawdust from her skin and hair. And wash away the deep sadness she felt for the Gordons, if that was ever possible.

  Maybe in a few hours, or even tomorrow, she’d catch up with Maggie and the rest of her friends. At that moment, Lucy felt too drained to tell anyone this story.

  * * *

  All of Lucy’s friends called and sent text messages after her ordeal with Richard, to see how she was doing. But all agreed that she’d wait until they were together to tell them the whole story. They did agree to skip the Thursday night meeting, since they were spending the weekend together. Even though their plans had been changed a bit.

  Suzanne reported in a group e-mail on Tuesday night that the beach house would not be free and clear until Saturday around noon.

  I know, bummer. But we can stay through Monday morning. It’s only ten minutes from town. We get up early and zip back to the village to return to reality, by 9 a.m. (Phoebe, you can wear your PJs on the trip home. No problem.)

  Lucy didn’t mind the slight delay at all. She felt drained after her adventure and took it easy around the cottage and her office. Dara was staying with them all week, before she left for camp and Lucy was grateful for the little girl’s cheerful, energetic company. She was happy to let Dara plan their days —going to the beach, washing the dogs, and making cookies—while Matt was at his office.

  Matt had been very caring and solicitous all week, not even scolding Lucy for the risky behavior that had nearly gotten her killed. Lucy still sensed a subtle tension between them, though Dara’s company was a good excuse to act as if everything was just peachy.

  Still, Lucy wondered what Matt was really thinking and when he’d broach the sensitive topic she’d raised again. Would she have to remind him? That would be so discouraging. She didn’t think that she even could.

  Dara was leaving for camp Saturday morning and Lucy was relieved to be leaving with her friends at just about the same time. She was in the bedroom, packing her beach clothes and knitting after breakfast when Matt called up to her.

  “Lucy? We’re leaving. Dara wants to say goodbye.”

  Lucy left her clothes in a heap and trotted downstairs. “And I want to say goodbye to Dara,” she said.

  She had to be the cutest camper ever, Lucy thought. She wore a Camp Blue Lake T-shirt, polka dot shorts, and brand-new pink sneakers. A huge duffel bag and brand-new sleeping bag sat at her feet. A large green backpack with a frog face—a good-luck gift from Lucy—was slung over one shoulder. Her ponytail, which Lucy had spent considerable energy fastening just minutes before, was already hanging loose. Her smile, excited but nervous.

  Lucy felt a little teary but forced a huge smile as she gave Dara a big hug. “You look awesome. Ready for action. Don’t forget to write me and tell me everything. The postcards are all addressed and stamped, in your duffel.”

  “I will,” Dara said. She put her arm around Lucy’s neck and hugged back. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” Lucy echoed. She stepped back and waved. She hoped that she didn’t cry.

  Dara was already hugging and kissing the dogs and didn’t notice. Which was a good thing, Lucy thought.

  Matt looked a little glassy-eyed, too, but he put on his gruff, cheerful face. “Come on, squirt. Time to get on the road. You go out to the truck. I’ll be right there,” he said as Dara walked out the door.

  He turned to Lucy and met her glance. “You have a great time. Should I call?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Sure. But the cell service is not very good out there,” she added. Plum Island was barely fifteen miles from the cottage, but the service there was spotty.

  “I’ll try,” he promised. “I’m going to stay over with Will and Jen. But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Good plan. Tell them I said hello.”

  “I will.” He paused. Matt picked up Dara’s duffel and sleeping bag with one arm and his small pack with the other. Lucy felt a heaviness in her heart. They were speaking to each other so . . . formally. What was going on here?

  Matt felt it, too. She could tell. Finally he said, “Listen, I know things have been a little off with us since we had that talk. The night before Edie’s barbecue? At least it feels that way to me.”

  “Me, too,” Lucy admitted.

  “Well . . . I don’t want you to worry. We’ll sort this out.” He shrugged. As if they had disagreed about who should empty the dishwasher. “I’m sorry to make you wait but . . . it’s complicated.”

  Lucy felt sucker-punched but tried to hide her reaction. “Must be. That’s what you said before.” She didn’t mean to sound snide, but her words had come out that way. He looked about to reply, then seemed to think better of answering her. Maybe that was just as well, she thought. This was hardly the time for some big, emotional showdown.

  She guessed Matt had initiated this little chat to reassure her. But she felt anything but reassured.

  “Hey . . . it’s all right.” She shook her head. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever . . .”

  She also hated when people said “whatever.” Maybe even more than “it’s complicated.” But she found herself scrambling for emotional cover in the face of an unexpected meteor hurtling down upon her.

  It sounded like Matt did not want to make a commitment. Lucy was not only surprised but deeply hurt. It was all she could do to keep a stoic expression as he leaned over to kiss her goodbye. She’d expected a real kiss. Wrong again. An awkward quick peck landed on her cheek as he wobbled from side to side, unbalanced by the weight of the duffel and pack.

  He grinned self-consciously. “Don’t forget the sunblock.”

  “I won’t.”

  She stepped out on the porch and watched him toss the bags in the back of the truck, then slip behind the wheel.

  Dara was already wearing headphones but waved to Lucy as the truck pulled out of the driveway. They seemed to be sharing a joke, which Lucy couldn’t hear, of course, and laughing wildly. Matt tapped the horn as they sped off.

  For some strange reason, she did think he looked relieved—and maybe even happy—to be getting away from her.

  * * *

  Suzanne was late. Over an hour. Lucy hovered around the house, looking for little jobs to occupy her time. She felt too restless to read and didn’t want to walk the dogs in the midday heat and start the trip feeling hot and sticky.

  It was hard to distract herself from disturbing thoughts about Matt and what he might say when—and if—they returned to the touchy subject she had raised. Did couples often break up over this issue? She knew that was true. If one partner laid down an ultimatum.

  But I’m a long way from that stage. Unless Matt has a panic attack and plans the old “I can’t give you what you need” exit strategy.

  Just stop. You’re driving yourself crazy. This weekend is supposed to be a relaxing, fun-filled time with your stitching and bitching soul sisters. You look like you’re on the way to a funeral, Lucy told herself, glancing in the mirror.

  At least there would be plenty of time this weekend to ask for their advice. And get their encouragement, which went without saying. She’d return home with a strategy of her own. The plan made her feel a little better. Good enough to smile at the sight of Suzanne racing into the driveway and waving from her window.

  “We’re here! Are you ready?” She was clearly ready, dressed in a hot pink tank top and huge black Wayfarers.

  “Totally,” Lucy called from the door. With her bags slung over her arm—one for clothes and one for her knitting—she quickly locked the door. Tink and Wally had jumped on the couch, staring out with serious concern. A neighbor was coming in a few times a day to take care of them. She knew they’d be fine, but also knew she’d miss them a little.
/>   Next time—me, dogs, beach house. That combination might end up a necessity.

  Lucy was the last on Suzanne’s route. Dana slid over to make room for her in the backseat and she tossed her bags in the trunk and slammed the door.

  “Tuck it in or lose it, ladies,” Suzanne announced, backing the bus-size vehicle out of the small driveway.

  “Did Dara get off to camp all right?” Maggie asked from the front seat.

  “Without a hitch . . . or a tear. She seemed a little worried but also excited.”

  “As it should be. It’s a big step, first summer at sleepaway camp,” Maggie replied.

  “Then they get to the stage when they don’t want to come back,” Dana added.

  “We’re having our own sleepaway camp this weekend, sort of,” Phoebe mused. “Fresh air, exercise, crafts?”

  “Gourmet food and wine,” Suzanne noted. “That cooler in the back is seriously stocked. Including . . .” She stopped herself and met Lucy’s curious gaze in the rearview mirror. “Well, lots of good stuff.”

  Lucy met her gaze in the mirror. She could tell by now when Suzanne was hiding something. Or trying to. She was awful at keeping a secret.

  “I hope you didn’t bring a birthday cake or anything silly like that. I just want this getaway to be about hanging out, all of us. Definitely not about my birthday, okay?”

  Now Suzanne and Dana and even Maggie looked a little uneasy.

  But Maggie’s tone was decisive. “There is absolutely no birthday cake, or anything like that, in this vehicle. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

  “All right . . . if you say so.” Lucy still had a funny feeling they were planning something. Maybe a cupcake with a sparkler in it?

  She finally had to smile. Her friends were the perfect tonic for her anxious mood and she already felt better.

  “This trip is about relaxing, totally,” Suzanne chimed in. “I estimate we will be on the beach, knitting within the hour. The great thing about Plum Island is that it’s so close. But when you get there, you feel really far away.”

  Lucy loved the spot, for that reason and others. She and Matt went there often in the summer when they wanted a change from their local beach. And just as Suzanne had predicted, they were soon crossing the land bridge that connected the island to the mainland. It was sometimes washed out by a big storm, or even submerged under a particularly high tide. But today they drove across quickly and soon found themselves on the island’s main road.

  “Wow. That was fast,” Dana said, checking the time on her phone. She leaned over the seat and spoke directly to Suzanne. “We’re here already. It’s not even two.”

  “Yes, I know. I can see that.” Suzanne sounded annoyed at Dana’s announcement for some odd reason. Lucy wondered why. She’d hoped to get here even earlier. But it was still early. She was just stressed. I’ll be in a better mood later, Lucy thought.

  Suzanne slowed down and pulled her phone out of a cup holder. “Somebody read this thing, okay? I can’t google and drive at the same time.”

  “I’ll try.” Maggie took the phone and slipped on her reading glasses. “There’s a little red pulsing dot. Is that the house?”

  “No, that’s the car,” Suzanne corrected.

  “Oh . . . let’s see. What am I looking for?”

  “A blue dot,” Phoebe snapped. She was squirming with impatience. The way adults feel watching a child try to feed herself for the first time, Lucy thought.

  “Oh, okay . . . Oh my goodness. I touched something wrong. The whole darn map disappeared.”

  Maggie looked back at them, baffled. Phoebe snatched the phone from her. “What’s the address?”

  Suzanne told her and Phoebe quickly tapped a few times. “Got it. Looks like we’re going entirely the wrong way; you have to turn around.”

  Suzanne made a face. “Oh, all right. I should probably know better but I don’t have many listings out here.”

  It took Suzanne a while to find a good place to turn the SUV. The road was very narrow, with sandy trenches on either side.

  Finally, they were pointed in the right direction. Lucy hoped.

  “Okay, let’s try this again,” Suzanne said more cheerfully.

  But the island was a maze of twisting lanes and sandy dead-end streets. Lucy started to wonder if they’d get to the beach house before sunset.

  Maggie sighed as they needed to double back once again. “My goodness, so close and yet so far.”

  “I’ll say. How long have we been driving around?”

  Dana checked her phone again. “About half an hour. Oh well, there’s plenty of daylight left. I like the beach best in the later afternoon anyway, when the sun isn’t so strong.”

  That was Lucy’s favorite time at the shore, too. She didn’t mind going to the beach late. But she was feeling a bit carsick. She hoped they’d get to the house soon.

  They finally found the street and searched for the house number. The atmosphere on the island was funky, another reason Lucy loved it, with lopsided cottages that weren’t winterized, set next to more modern homes. But all jumbled together on small plots, the decks and balconies shimmering with wind chimes and colorful flags. And lots of wet beach towels.

  “There it is. Finally.” Suzanne sighed with relief as she pulled into the driveway in front of a reasonably sized cottage, freshly painted pale yellow and decorated with buoys.

  “It’s adorable. So . . . Plum Island,” Dana said with appreciation.

  “It’s perfect,” Suzanne agreed. “Let’s check it out and pick bedrooms before we bring all our stuff inside.”

  They emptied out of the SUV and followed Suzanne up the path. Lucy was right behind, with Dana dawdling as she fumbled with sunglasses and Maggie moving even slower behind her. Phoebe was last to get out of the car and trotted to keep up.

  “Let’s see . . . which is the front door key?” Suzanne had a key ring in her hand, with a fat rubber shark dangling from one end.

  She finally opened the door and stepped inside. “Hey, this is nice. Even better than the photos. Take a look at that view, everybody.”

  Suzanne beckoned from an entryway, smiling with delight, and Lucy quickly followed. She stepped into the foyer and looked into the house . . . and saw a crowd of people facing her.

  “Surprise! Happy birthday, Lucy!”

  Lucy screamed and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God! What is this?”

  She couldn’t believe it. Matt broke free from the group and ran up to her. “Happy birthday, honey. Gee, you were really surprised, weren’t you?”

  Lucy blinked, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “I was . . . I still am. Totally.”

  “We fooled you, Lucy,” a small voice said gleefully. Lucy looked down and found Dara, standing next to Matt.

  “You totally fooled me. Why aren’t you at camp, miss? Was that all a big trick?” Of course she knew it had been, but she enjoyed watching Dara relish the moment.

  “Uh-huh.” Dara nodded vigorously.

  “She’s actually leaving tomorrow. Her mother is going to take her,” Matt explained. “Dara didn’t want to miss your party.”

  “I’m so glad you didn’t,” she said to Dara, then looked up at Matt again. “You did a stellar job of tricking me, too.”

  “I tried. I could barely hold it together at the end,” he admitted. “Your buddies helped.”

  “We were only bit players,” Suzanne cut in. “Though it did get tricky. He didn’t want you here before three. And I nearly told you that the cooler is full of party food—and raspberry mojitos.”

  Lucy laughed at that confession. “You’re usually an ace with directions. I almost got suspicious. But I was too carsick.”

  Suzanne shrugged. “Blame Matt. He planned it all. He even found the house.”

  “Wow . . . pretty good.” It was all Lucy could say as Matt’s glance met hers and held it. He planted a big wet kiss on her cheek and slung his arm around her shoulder as they walked farther into the
big living room to greet her many guests.

  This has to count for something good, Lucy decided. He wouldn’t go to all this trouble if he didn’t care about me. Would he?

  Well . . . don’t get your hopes up yet. This birthday bash could be a consolation prize, another voice warned. A bid to get into your good graces before he delivers the “complicated” bad news?

  Lucy glanced at him. She wasn’t sure. But she suddenly didn’t care. Be here now. At your party. Worrying won’t make any difference.

  As she moved into a sea of friends and family, all trying to hug, kiss, and wish her well, she didn’t want to change a thing.

  In addition to her closest pals and their significant others—Charles, Jack Haeger, and Kevin Cavanaugh—Lucy also spotted Phoebe at the edge of the scene, talking with a tall, thin, cute guy with a big brown beard. The potter with soulful hands, she guessed. That seemed promising. There were many friends she knew from town, other couples she and Matt socialized with, along with friends from her book group and even a few old friends from Boston.

  Her sister Ellen and her family were there, of course. Ellen hugged her excitedly. “You should have seen your face. I took pictures! They’re already on Facebook,” she announced, happily waving her phone.

  “Thanks!” Lucy gave her a hug, vowing she’d never go on Facebook again.

  Lucy guessed the photos made her look like the star of a slasher movie. Ellen was not known for her photographic skills.

  What could you do? Family was . . . family.

  “What a great party. If only Mom was here,” Ellen said wistfully.

  Lucy’s spirits dipped like a kite. “Yeah . . . too bad. But she’s stuck in Africa a few more weeks. No help for that.”

  “Not quite,” another voice cut in. Lucy spun around to find her mother, beaming at her. She couldn’t imagine where she’d kept out of view all this time, but glancing at Matt, Lucy could see this second surprise had been carefully crafted as well.

  “For goodness’ sakes, look who’s here. Isabel, all the way from another hemisphere,” Matt remarked with mock astonishment.

  Lucy’s mother did carry a certain foreign air, wearing a toast-colored linen shift and a bright shawl, fashioned from a swath of fabric she’d surely found in some far-off, native marketplace. Her jewelry, handmade as well; bright beads on a dark strand of hemp and several woven bracelets. Her hair, fair like Lucy’s but streaked with silvery white, was wound in a loose bun at the back of her head. Her round face was lightly tanned and bright eyes peered out from behind large-framed, professorial-looking glasses.