by Lea Wait
“And here are you and Mary and I in the high school play. I can’t even remember the name of it.”
“I can’t either. All I remember is that Betty wanted a part, and they made her an understudy because she was a freshman. She didn’t speak to me for at least a month.”
They moved to another corner of the room. Aunt Nettie bit her lip. “You put this up.”
“It was a big part of our lives, Nettie.”
“True enough. I don’t have any pictures taken there.”
The photograph showed four smiling young women wearing overalls and holding soldering irons, standing beside a large piece of metal. “What is that picture of?” Maggie asked. The names on the attached yellow label were familiar, but she couldn’t place the setting.
Ruth answered. “That’s Nettie and I and our friends Mary and Susan, working at Bath Iron Works. Remember, Nettie? ‘Bath Built is Best Built.’ They hired thousands of us young women during the war. In 1944 there were over eight thousand workers, around the clock. We launched a new destroyer every seventeen days.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you were a Rosie-the-Riveter, Aunt Nettie,” said Maggie. “I’ve read about those days. I even talk about them in my American Civilization classes. But you’re the first two people I’ve met who really did it.”
“Oh, we did it,” said Aunt Nettie. “We didn’t just do riveting, either. We did everything. Wiring, operating the stamping machine and drill press. Whatever needed doing.”
“A family in Bath opened their home for a few of us who needed places to stay. We were crowded in like sardines, but we worked long hours, and kept the equipment running around the clock,” said Ruth. “They called us ‘production soldiers.’ We did everything we could for our men at sea. Waymouth’s year-’round population was only about eleven hundred in those days. But two hundred of them served in the armed forces. And about three hundred of us worked in defense jobs. It was a frightening time. We were warned that Bath Iron Works could be a German target because it was a defense plant. But we tried not to worry. We all knew dozens of men, and some women, who were serving overseas. They were in constant danger. We wanted to do our part.”
“And then the war was over, and the men came home and your jobs went away,” said Maggie. “But your generation broke down so many walls for women in the workplace.”
“It wasn’t quite like that,” said Aunt Nettie. “Not all of us worked until the end, to begin with. And the navy didn’t need as many destroyers after the war. Plus, when their men came back, most of the girls were happy to go home. Start their lives together. Or begin them again. Not too many women wanted to spend their lives on assembly lines, although a few of the war workers did stay on.”
“None of you did,” said Maggie.
“No. None of us did.”
Maggie glanced at Betty, who was now dozing, still holding the baby doll tightly to her breast. “Betty didn’t work there.”
“She did for a few months, at the end. But she was younger than the rest of us. She wasn’t old enough to go,” said Ruth. “One more thing she thought I’d been able to do that she’d missed out on.”
Maggie searched the other photographs for familiar faces.
“I’m surprised you don’t have a picture of your wedding here, Ruth.”
“It was my wedding, not Betty’s.”
“And here you both are with your children, all four of them, in front of this house. Brian and Miranda are the little ones, right?” Ruth and Betty were standing, each one holding a child of perhaps a year old, with a little boy and a little girl in front of them. The family.
“Yes. They’re close in age.”
As they continued to circle the room the pictures of Ruth and Betty with the four children continued, with all six figures aging slightly in each view. Brian and Noah playing football. Stacy in a Girl Scout uniform. Miranda in a prom dress. Pictures of Noah’s wedding. In between were one or two pictures of “the girls”: Nettie, Mary, Gloria, and Susan with Ruth and Betty. And in later years, Doreen.
The history of Betty’s life, in still photos on a sickroom wall.
Maggie had been so engaged in looking she’d forgotten about Miranda. When their tour of the room reached the door she left Nettie and Ruth to reminisce.
She found Miranda sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea.
“Why did you come today?” she asked as Maggie entered.
“Because the investigation is continuing,” Maggie answered. “People are being considered as suspects. Just because a person hasn’t lived a perfect life they shouldn’t be considered a murder suspect.”
“You’re not allowed to say who they’re looking at.”
Maggie shook her head.
“But it’s someone in my family. That’s why you’re here.”
Maggie didn’t answer.
“I don’t know you, Maggie Summer, and you don’t know any of us. If it weren’t for Aunt Ruth, I don’t know what would have happened to Mother and me. She welcomed us into her home, and she and Mother brought all four of us up. We’ve headed in different directions over the years. We’ve had our squabbles. But we’re all decent people. None of us are murderers.”
“Aunt Nettie believes that, too. But Carrie Folk was killed. And so far, no one’s found a serious suspect not connected to this house.”
21
Haddock (Melanogrammus aeglefinus—Linnaeus). Delicately colored 1904 chromolithograph of a haddock on off-white background. No artist named. One of several natural history lithographs bound with the Annual Report of the Forest, Fish and Game Commission of New York. 8 x 11 inches. $50.
Will was standing at the door when they returned. “Where did you go? I got home sooner than I thought and I worried when you weren’t here.”
“We were over at Ruth Weston’s,” said Maggie, helping Aunt Nettie into the house. “We weren’t gone long.”
“You could have left a note. I was worried.”
“We knew we’d be back soon,” said Aunt Nettie. “Once in a while I go out, too.”
“I can see that.”
“How’d it go with the engineer?” asked Maggie.
“Turned out the only real question the guy had was about the clamshell plaster. He wanted to make sure I wouldn’t insist on it being replaced in kind when new wiring was installed.”
“I wouldn’t think he’d even ask,” said Maggie, hanging up her jacket and Aunt Nettie’s.
“Hadn’t occurred to me, either. But he had one client who wanted a house restored totally authentically. An estimate for that would push the price sky-high. The engineer didn’t want to get burned again.”
“Makes sense.”
“It does. But I don’t know why Jo or Art couldn’t have explained that over the phone. I didn’t really need to go over in person to talk to the guy. But maybe that’s how things are done here. Making friends. Networking. In any case, it’s taken care of for the moment. He said he’d finish his evaluation of the house and come up with his estimate tonight.”
“So all’s moving along well,” Maggie said.
“Seems to be. How’s Ruth?”
“Having a hard time of it. Taking full-time care of Betty isn’t easy. We didn’t stay long. Miranda was there, too,” said Aunt Nettie. “And I’ve missed my nap. I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
“We haven’t had lunch,” Maggie pointed out. “Maybe you should have something to eat first.”
“I’m not that hungry. We had eggs again for breakfast. Maybe we can have supper a bit early.”
“We can do that,” said Will. “I’ll fix your bed for you. And maybe while you’re resting I’ll take Maggie out for lunch. Would you mind?”
“Mind? Nonsense. The house will be quieter so I can rest. You two go on about your business.”
While Will was getting his aunt settled, Maggie thought of the pictures they’d seen at Ruth’s house. Last summer she’d seen Aunt Nettie’s old pictures, too. She looked over in th
e corner bookcase where she remembered the old red morocco leather album was kept. Sure enough, it was still there. She opened it to one of the last pictures she’d remembered seeing: the handsome man in uniform who’d been Aunt Nettie’s fiancé. The soldier who hadn’t come home from the war.
That’s where Aunt Nettie had closed the album last summer.
Maggie started there, and kept turning the pages. One picture was that of the four laughing young women who’d worked at the defense plant together. But in this picture they weren’t in the factory. They were standing in front of a house, perhaps the boarding house they’d stayed at in Bath. It was winter; they were bundled up and the ground and stairs to the house were covered with snow. Then there was a black-and-white head shot of Nettie and Ruth with water and trees in the background. As Maggie looked more closely, Will came back into the room.
“Do you know where this was taken?
He looked over her shoulder. “I remember seeing that picture when I was a little boy and asking her. I think it’s in the Boston Public Garden. They were in one of the Swan Boats. I remember because I’d never heard of the Swan Boats before. I’d just heard the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale about the Ugly Duckling. I didn’t know there really were swans.”
“She and Ruth must have taken a vacation in Boston.”
“Guess so.”
Maggie turned the page. The next picture was of Ruth’s wedding party. “What a gorgeous dress she’s wearing. And there’s Betty, her maid of honor. I’m guessing all the bridesmaids are ‘the girls.’ There’s Aunt Nettie. The other three must be Mary and Susan and Gloria. The men look so serious. Ruth’s husband, Jonas, was really tall and good-looking.”
Will glanced at it. “And probably scared to death. Just got home from the war, and tying himself down for life.” He reached down and closed the album. “Let’s go get lunch. And talk about things happening in this century.”
The Great Blue was as crowded for a December lunch as it was in the summertime. “People visiting for the holidays,” Will said, glancing around. “There aren’t many places open this time of year to choose from.”
They were waiting for a table when the hostess came back to them. “The two ladies sitting in the corner over there offered to share their table, if you’d like to join them.”
Will looked over her head. “It’s Doreen and Zelda. Do you mind, Maggie?”
“Not at all; it might be fun.”
“We’ll join them, then,” accepted Will, and they followed the hostess to the table in question.
“Hi!” welcomed Doreen Strait. “Zelda, you know Will Brewer, and this is his friend Maggie from New Jersey; Maggie, this is my granddaughter, Zelda. We decided to take ourselves out for lunch, and it looks as though the whole town of Waymouth had the same thought.”
“Thanks for sharing your table,” said Will. “Hope your Christmas went well.”
“It did,” said Doreen. “Sadly cut a little short when Nick got that call and had to go to work, but that’s his life.”
“We enjoyed hearing you sing Christmas Eve,” Maggie said to Zelda. The girl’s face was healing, and she wasn’t wearing makeup today. But her skin showed the yellow shadows of an earlier black eye.
“Thank you,” said Zelda. She had a sweet smile. “I’ve been in the choir since I was twelve. The Christmas community sing and service are my favorites, I think.”
“I’m glad your dad had the night off so he could hear you,” said Maggie.
“He didn’t have the whole night off,” she answered. “After the sing he was on call for a few hours. He didn’t get home until early Christmas morning.”
Doreen nodded. “Poor Nick hardly had time to close his eyes before Owen called about Carrie, and he was off. He didn’t get home again until late in the afternoon, so we waited to open our gifts until then.” She shook her head. “It’s hard on all of us, his having a job like that. Especially on a day like Christmas.”
“I would think you’d be used to it by now,” said Will.
“I don’t think you ever get used to someone you love working such hours, and being in dangerous situations,” said Doreen. “I worried about his father going out lobstering, and sure enough, one day he didn’t come back. Nick deals with criminals who are even more dangerous and unpredictable than storms and waves.”
Zelda reached over and patted her grandmother on the arm. “Don’t get yourself worked up, Gram. That’s who Dad is. You know you can’t stop him.”
This was the overly emotional daughter Nick was worried about? She was the calmest seventeen-year-old Maggie had met in a long while.
“What do you see in your future, Zelda? What do you want to do after high school?”
“Not nursing or police work.” Zelda absently twisted a strand of her long hair as she thought. “I don’t know exactly yet. I’d like to learn more about choices there are outside Waymouth. I don’t think I’m ready for a school in one of the big cities, like New York, but I’d like to go to a university near a city, maybe in Maryland, or Virginia.”
“You have an intelligent granddaughter there,” Maggie said to Doreen. “That makes a lot of sense.”
“It does,” agreed Doreen. “I became a nurse because my mother was a nurse, and because nurses were needed. I didn’t consider a lot of other options. That was well and good for the time, and for me. And Nick wanted to be in law enforcement from the time he knew what a policeman was. This is a new world. Zelda should explore it. Take time to decide where she wants to be and what she wants to do.”
“I just have to convince Dad to let me go to a school outside Maine,” said Zelda. “I’ve applied to a couple, but I haven’t dared tell him. He’s going to explode if I’m accepted and want to go.”
“We’ll figure out something, honey. That’s why you and I’ve been putting money away all these years. You need to get out of here and see the world.”
Will called over the waitress and they placed their orders: cheeseburger and fries with a blueberry soda for Zelda; lobster roll and onion rings and diet soda for Maggie; haddock sandwiches with sweet potato fries and coffee for Will and Doreen.
“Aunt Nettie and I visited Ruth this morning,” Maggie said to Doreen. “She’s having a hard time of it, taking care of Betty. But she said you’re going to help her out. That’s wonderful. She can really use a hand now.”
Doreen nodded. “I thought as much. I’m going over later today. In a way I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t used my nurse’s training in a long time, except for binding up Zelda’s and Nick’s scratches and bruises. I wouldn’t want to go back to work full-time at this point, but it’ll feel good to help out a friend.”
“Aunt Nettie said you worked here in town at Rocky Shores Hospital?”
“I did, for some years. And did private work as well.” She looked at Maggie. “Did she mention that?”
Maggie shook her head. “No; she said you’d been a nurse, and your mother, Mary, had also been a nurse. And that when she was older, you’d taken care of your mother.”
“Yes. Mother was ill for a long time, beginning when Zelda was a baby. Those were rough years.” Doreen stood up. “I’m going to visit the ladies’ room before our food is delivered. Maggie, can I show you where the rest rooms are?”
Maggie knew very well where they were, but she got the message. She excused herself and followed Doreen.
When the bathroom door closed in back of them Doreen glanced around to see if anyone else was in the room. No one was. “Maggie, I didn’t want to talk in front of Zelda. Do you know if Nettie received a letter from Carrie Folk before Christmas?”
22
The Study Hour. Color lithograph of beautiful young dark-haired woman leaning on her hand and reading one of several books piled on her desk, which is also decorated by two red roses, some of whose petals have fallen off. Based on a print originally published in 1907, this copy was included in a collection of Harrison Fisher’s illustrations (Fair Americans) in 191
1. Fisher was a well-known illustrator of women in the first quarter of the twentieth century. 8.5 x 11 inches. Price: $65.
Maggie looked at Doreen. “Nettie got a letter from Carrie last week threatening blackmail. So did Ruth. You got one, too?”
Doreen nodded. “I didn’t know who to tell. I was stunned. The letter mentioned things that happened long ago; things my mother was involved in, more than I was, but that I knew about. I couldn’t see why Carrie was dragging it all out now. I decided to wait and see if she approached me again; if she was serious. It seemed so strange. Anyway, maybe I was wrong, but I didn’t do anything. I put the envelope in my desk, under other papers.”
“And then Carrie was murdered.”
“And Nick was investigating, and I realized that letter could make me a suspect. I knew I should give it to Nick, but it would only have upset him, and of course I hadn’t killed Carrie, so I decided to destroy it. Forget it.”
“And?”
“Christmas night, after Nick had come home and gone to bed, I went to get it. To burn it.” Doreen looked stricken. “The letter was gone. I looked through that desk drawer a dozen times. I was frantic. I looked on the floor. I looked in the other drawers. It had disappeared.”
“And you hadn’t mentioned it to anyone.”
“No one.”
“How long had it been there?”
“Maybe three or four days? I’m not positive. Less than a week. And then I started wondering about other people. Whether anyone else had gotten letters. That’s why I asked you. I was going to ask Ruth tonight.”
“Nick’s investigation includes Ruth’s whole family. He was also looking at Aunt Nettie and Will; he may still be. Could he have found the letter and destroyed it so you wouldn’t be a suspect?” Maggie asked.
“I suppose so. I hadn’t even thought about that.” Doreen paused, and then shook her head. “No. That would be destroying evidence. Nick’s very strict about doing things the right way. I can’t believe he’d break one of his own rules. But the only other person in the house was Zelda. She certainly wouldn’t have been involved. If by any chance she’d found the letter she would have asked me about it. Zelda and I are close.”
