Shadows on a Maine Christmas (Antique Print Mystery Series Book 7)

by Lea Wait

  Come to think of it, Maggie thought, hadn’t she read that most murder victims were killed by close friends? Or family.

  15

  What Shall We Do Next? Winslow Homer wood engraving published in Harper’s Weekly July 31, 1869. Pictures six elegantly dressed young women playing croquet on a summer’s day. Two younger girls watch from a porch with another woman who is sewing and looks bored. 13.75 x 9 inches. Price: $350.

  After a quick breakfast the next morning Will went upstairs to his office to make phone calls while Aunt Nettie used the house telephone to call Ruth.

  Maggie cleaned up the kitchen, keeping out of both their ways, and then pulled on her heaviest sweater and her jacket and boots and headed outside to clear the driveway after the night’s snowfall. In the morning sun the snow glistened as though tiny pieces of mica had been sprinkled on top, like sugar on Christmas cookies.

  Mica had been mined nearby in the nineteenth century, she remembered. It was used instead of glass as window panels in Franklin stoves and small oil lamps. She threw shovelfuls of snow onto the piles lining the driveway that were already over four feet high. Her shoulders and back would ache tonight.

  If Will bought that other house he could move his RV and everything in Aunt Nettie’s barn into the barn there, put Aunt Nettie’s car in her barn, and plow this drive. Digging out two vehicles with shovels every day would drive anyone south in winter.

  Ready for a little sitting-down time, she went back in the house. Aunt Nettie and Will were glaring at each other.

  “Maggie. There you are,” said Aunt Nettie, turning to her. “I wondered where you were hiding.”

  Hiding? “I was shoveling the driveway.”

  “Good. Because I’d like you to take me to see Ruth now. In my car.”

  Maggie glanced at Will. “Yesterday I said I’d go with you to see Ruth. But it all depends on Ruth’s schedule. And Will’s.”

  “Ruth can see us now. She’s invited us. And I don’t want to try to climb into your high van. My car will be easier. I can drive it, or you can.” Aunt Nettie shot a look at Will. Had she been threatening to drive herself? She probably still had a license. Only last summer she’d been driving.

  “I’d be glad to drive.” Maggie looked over at Will, who was frowning and shaking his head. “But what about Will?”

  “Will isn’t coming with us. If he needs to go out he can take your van.”

  Ah. That was it. Will had made other plans that involved using a car.

  “Will, that’s all right with me. You can use my van.”

  “It would be nice to be consulted before people make plans around here.” He stalked off, muttering about “not being needed” and “grocery shopping” and “lawyer,” but Maggie didn’t have time to follow him. Aunt Nettie was already trying to put her coat on. “Ruth’s expecting us, Maggie. I knew you’d be on my side.”

  Maggie reached around Aunt Nettie’s back and helped her on with her coat. “I didn’t realize we were choosing sides. But I guess we’ll be off. Mustn’t keep Ruth waiting.” She held the back door to the ramp open and called upstairs, “Will, Aunt Nettie and I are leaving. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

  “Don’t hurry. You’re busy, so I’m having lunch with Jo,” he answered.

  Maggie ground her teeth as she helped Aunt Nettie down the back ramp.

  Today the inside of Ruth’s house didn’t resemble the elegant home that had been decked for a party two days before.

  Nor did Ruth herself resemble the refined hostess she’d been then. She met them at the door, cashmere sweater wet with baby spit-up, designer jeans sagging, and hair straggling. The dark shadows under her eyes were not makeup.

  She started to hug Aunt Nettie, but then glanced down at her damp sweater and shrugged. “You’ll excuse the general chaos.”

  “We’ve both seen worse,” said Aunt Nettie, patting her arm. “How’s Betty holding up?”

  “She’s totally confused. She depends on her schedule, and now there’s no schedule.” Ruth shook her head. “She doesn’t understand why Carrie isn’t here during the day, or why the baby’s crying so much, or why ‘other people’ are in the house. Come back to the kitchen. I can hear her more easily there.”

  Maggie glanced into the living room as they walked past. The bar was gone, but the furniture that had been moved to allow it to fit in the corner had not been replaced. Christmas wrapping paper, boxes, toys, and baby clothes littered the floor. Dirty dishes and glasses were on several tables, along with an open bag of potato chips and an empty bottle of Dewar’s.

  The door to Betty’s room was closed.

  “I’m hoping she can sleep a little,” said Ruth. “The baby’s napping, and so are his parents. The house hasn’t been so quiet in days. That’s why when you said you could come right over, I said you should.”

  “Maybe you should be sleeping yourself,” said Aunt Nettie. “Ruth dear, excuse me, but you look dreadful.”

  “And feel worse. Between the baby’s crying and watching Betty, I’ve hardly slept in days now.”

  “Have you called that home health aide agency here in town? Maybe they could find a temporary person to help you with Betty until you can hire someone full time.”

  “I called. But it’s the holidays, and they have no one available until January at the earliest. And most of their people aren’t trained nurses, the way Carrie was. With Betty’s diabetes, I need to trust that someone knows what he or she is doing.”

  “Oh, Ruth.”

  “Doreen’s volunteered to come and sit with her tonight. I’m looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep then.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Aunt Nettie. “You can depend on Doreen.”

  “She hasn’t been an active nurse since Zelda was little, but I’m sure she can deal with Betty’s diabetes and she knows how to lift her. And Betty knows Doreen as well as she knows anyone now, so even one night will be an enormous help.”

  “I understand.”

  “The one blessing’s been that I’ve been so involved with coping here, I haven’t had time to focus on what happened to Carrie. I still can’t believe anyone would kill her.”

  “Ruth, I brought Maggie with me because she’s been involved with murder investigations before. You remember, when Rachel’s daughter was murdered a couple of years ago?”

  “Horrible situation. Yes, of course I remember. How could any of us forget?”

  “Maggie was the one who found her killer. Maggie can be trusted.”

  Ruth looked Maggie up and down, as though she were buying a horse. “What do you mean, Nettie?”

  “I think we have a problem, Ruth. Tell me the truth, now. Did you get a letter from Carrie? Or did she ask you for extra money recently?”

  Ruth stopped short and lowered her voice. “How did you know that?”

  “She sent me a letter last week, asking for twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “You? But why?”

  Aunt Nettie leaned toward Ruth and spoke very carefully. “You remember…the abortion…I had years ago?”

  Ruth glanced at Maggie and then swallowed hard. “She knew about…that?”

  “She did. I won’t ask what she knew about you.”

  “No, no.”

  Clearly they were talking in circles and avoiding actual topics because Maggie was there. But it didn’t matter. Ruth had a secret. Carrie had known what it was.

  “She was trying to blackmail you?”

  “She asked for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  Aunt Nettie nodded. “She knew you had more money than I did.”

  “I gave her ten thousand. I told her I’d give her more in January. And of course I asked if she was in trouble. I asked what she needed the money for.”

  “And?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me. She just said she had to have the rest of the hundred thousand by the end of January. That she couldn’t wait around.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Carrie.”
r />   “I didn’t think so either. I was worried about her. I kept wondering what she’d gotten herself into that she needed that sort of cash. She didn’t spend money on clothes or jewelry. She’s lived in that little house of hers for years. Her car is ten years old. Billy’s with her all the time, so she doesn’t eat out, or travel. I thought of on-line gambling, although she doesn’t seem the type. But then, I’m not sure there is a type for gambling.” Ruth hesitated. “I wondered if Billy might be ill. She’s taken time off for doctors’ appointments several times recently. But she said he wasn’t, and he hasn’t seemed ill to me. Of course, with Betty having a weak immune system, I’m very conscious of anyone being near her who might be carrying germs.”

  Aunt Nettie nodded sagely. “Who else do you think she might have tried to blackmail?”

  Ruth thought. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that. I thought it was just me. Honestly, I didn’t even think of it as blackmail. She worked here, and somehow she’d found out…things. I was afraid she’d tell my children, or the police, or …” She looked over at Maggie. “I was afraid she’d blab about things that were none of her business. You understand. I thought I could manage. That I could keep her quiet.”

  “And now someone else has,” said Aunt Nettie. “Permanently. And I’m afraid you and I are both suspects.”

  “Suspects!” said Ruth. “You mean the police think we might have killed Carrie?”

  “Nicky Strait talked to me yesterday. I told him about the letter Carrie’d sent to me. He said anyone she’d been threatening would be a possible suspect.”

  “He can’t think you or I …”

  “That’s why I’m here. We have to figure out what Carrie knew, and who might have killed her.”

  “I don’t want anyone investigating my family.” Ruth glanced at Maggie. “You understand, Nettie. Not even at this late date.”

  “That’s why we’re in a pickle, don’t you see?” Aunt Nettie said, reaching over and touching Ruth’s trembling hand. “That’s why we have to get this taken care of before Nicky does.”

  “I’m too old for all of this. It’s too much to cope with at my age, Nettie. Too much.”

  “Ruth,” Maggie interrupted softly, “how did you think Carrie found out about your secret?”

  “I’ve been pretty sure she heard parts of it here in this house. Betty’s tongue meanders some days. What she says isn’t clear. But Carrie sat with her for over a year, and Carrie grew up in Waymouth. She probably put Betty’s words together with old rumors or stories she’d heard.”

  “I agree. That’s how I thought she learned what she wrote in her letter to me,” said Aunt Nettie. “Even if what Carrie understood wasn’t exactly the truth, her version could still be dangerous. Most of what we’re thinking of,” she looked at Ruth, who nodded, as though they were communicating in a secret language, “happened a long time ago. Few of us are still alive to explain or give our versions anymore.”

  “Who else might Betty have talked about?” asked Maggie.

  “Anyone in town, I suppose,” said Ruth. “Most likely herself, of course. And she was close to Mary and Susan. And Gloria, I suppose. But they’re all gone now.”

  The two elderly women looked at each other, perhaps seeing the past, and the friends they’d shared it with.

  “Carrie was a good woman,” said Aunt Nettie finally. “She had a hard life, coping with Billy and all. No one should have killed her.”

  “If she’d needed money she could have just asked me,” agreed Ruth. “If she had a good reason for needing it, I would have helped her. She went about it in the wrong way. Why, for heaven’s sake, did she have to cause all this trouble?”

  “She’s the one who’s dead,” Maggie pointed out.

  “True enough,” Ruth agreed. “She used up her life taking care of Billy, and now Billy has no one. Who knows what will become of him now?”

  “So you can’t think of anyone else Carrie might have tried to blackmail?” said Maggie. “Anyone at all?”

  The two women shook their heads.

  “This may sound paranoid,” said Maggie. “But I’d keep a close eye on Betty. Someone killed Carrie. And if that someone was another person she tried to blackmail, then he or she is going to want to stop whoever gave Carrie the information. And you both agree Betty was most likely that source.”

  “I don’t think you need to worry, Maggie. I can’t find anyone else to watch Betty. Not even her own daughter will look after her. Miranda wants Betty in a nursing home. So unless you think I’m a danger to Betty, or I die of exhaustion, she’s safe.” Ruth tried to smile, but her expression was more of a grimace.

  “Good. Now, will you excuse me?” Maggie asked. “Ruth, would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

  “Use the one off my bedroom, upstairs,” Ruth answered. “Go up the front stairs. My bedroom is the first on the right. The bathroom’s just inside. Brian and Jenny have taken over the other one.”

  Maggie had felt like an interloper in the kitchen. Ruth and Aunt Nettie might be talking in front of her, but they weren’t saying all they wanted to. Perhaps if she left them alone Aunt Nettie would learn more. If there was anything more to learn.

  On her way upstairs she noted the hand-colored Curtis botanical engravings on the staircase wall. Their elaborate French matting and frames probably cost more than the mid-nineteenth-century prints themselves, but the selection was excellent, and the progression of colored flowers from brightly colored reds on the first floor to pinks and then to yellows and finally to blues on the second floor worked well. She glanced down the hallway to see if the progression of prints was continued there, but instead the colors were picked up in the wallpaper.

  Ruth’s bedroom wasn’t empty.

  A man with his back to the door was rifling through the contents of the top drawer of a mahogany desk. She stood for a moment, certain he didn’t know she was there, before she spoke. “Excuse me, but is this Ruth’s bedroom?”

  Brian almost jumped as he turned toward her. “Ah, yes.”

  “I’m Maggie Summer. We met at the party Christmas Eve? Sorry to disturb you. Ruth said I could use her bathroom.”

  “Of course. It’s over there.” He pointed to his left. He stuck a couple of papers in his pocket as she passed him.

  When she left the bathroom he was gone. Ruth’s checkbook was on top of the desk.

  Downstairs, Maggie helped Aunt Nettie into her coat. “By the way, what does Brian do for a living?” she asked as they were walking to the front door.

  “He’s a lawyer,” said Ruth. “Works for a bank in Philadelphia. He just bought a big new house. He’s the most successful of my children.”

  “You must be very proud of him,” said Maggie.

  “I am,” said Ruth. “Everything turned out well for him.”

  “Does he know you gave ten thousand dollars to Carrie?”

  “I didn’t tell him, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ruth answered. “I hadn’t told anyone until now, when I told both of you. Why?”

  “I just wondered who else knew about Carrie’s attempts to get money,” said Maggie.

  “It wasn’t anyone’s business but mine and Carrie’s. Did you tell anyone about her contacting you, Nettie?”

  “Not until Christmas morning, after we heard what happened to her. Then I told Will and Maggie. And Nicky Strait, since he’s heading the investigation.”

  “We appreciate your taking the time to talk to us,” said Maggie.

  “You’ll let me know if you find out anything more?” Ruth asked.

  “We will,” Aunt Nettie assured her. “And you’ll call if you think of anything else that might help?”

  “We’ve always been here for each other,” agreed Ruth. “Always. No matter what.”

  The two old friends clung to each other for a moment in more than a hug. It was a moment of solidarity.

  16

  Trapping in the Adirondacks. Winslow Homer wood engraving of two trapp
ers in a canoe. The man paddling the craft, probably a guide, is roughly dressed. Ahead of him in the canoe is a younger, better-dressed man, holding up a trap from which a dead beaver is hanging. Published in Every Saturday, one of the smaller-circulation papers Homer worked for, on December 24, 1870. From 1870 until 1902 Homer often visited the Adirondacks, usually the North Woods Club in Minerva, New York, and painted there. 9 x 12 inches. Price: $450.

  For their lunch Maggie heated turkey noodle soup Will had made (under Aunt Nettie’s direction) and frozen after Thanksgiving. Will was still out. (“Having lunch with that Jo Heartwood again, I see,” said Aunt Nettie.) Again?

  “How many children does Ruth have?” Maggie asked, she hoped, casually. She wanted to know more about Brian. And didn’t want to think about Jo.

  “Three. Noah, her oldest boy, he’s a carpenter up to Caribou. Followed a girl up there years ago and stayed. They have two grown children. Stacy, she’s next. Lives out in California. Thought she could be a movie star. Ruth paid for acting lessons for a while, but then Stacy got a job doing something technical for one of the television companies. Hasn’t been home in a while. You met Brian, her youngest. He got into a little trouble when he was a teenager, and changed colleges a couple of times, but finally got his law degree. Ruth was partial to his first wife, but hasn’t taken to Jenny, this new one. They’ve been married a couple of years now. Little Jonas is his first child, and I don’t recall Brian’s coming home for Christmas in a while. So maybe the new baby will bring Ruth and Brian closer together.” Aunt Nettie yawned. “I think it’s time for my nap. I don’t usually have as busy a morning.”

  After Aunt Nettie was curled up under her new Christmas comforter, Maggie decided it was time to check in with Nick. It had been over twenty-four hours since Carrie’s murder. Maybe Nick’s team had found evidence at the murder scene that yielded more information than she and Aunt Nettie had heard at Ruth Weston’s home.

  The call went to Nick’s voice mail. But a few minutes later Maggie’s cell phone rang.