Murder on the Brewster Flats

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Albert nodded in my direction, tears in his eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sonny.” I knew he was trying to thank me. I saw it in his eyes.

  “See you at three at The Seacrest.”

  ***

  Camille took a bite of her lobster salad and sighed. “As much as I want to go home tomorrow—no, as much as I’m dying to go home tomorrow—I am really sad that this will be my last plate of fresh lobster in a long time.”

  I picked up a crispy hot onion ring and took a bite. “I’m really gonna miss these.”

  She laughed. “We have to go on diets when we get home, honey. I swear I’ve gained ten pounds this month.”

  I shook my head. “No way. You look great. I think I’m the one who’s gained weight.”

  She patted my stomach and chuckled. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I wasn’t serious.”

  She fake-punched me in the arm. “Neither was I. Gotcha.”

  “Thank God for those morning walks on the beach. Otherwise I might’ve really packed on the weight. We’ve been eating such bad food.”

  “Yeah. It’s been heavenly.” She chuckled and tossed a French fry to the same little catbird we’d fed when we arrived a month ago. “So, you really and truly found Albert’s treasure, huh?”

  I showed her the picture on my phone again. “Yeah, aren’t they beautiful? I really didn’t think it would happen. And to think, it was just by accident. If that coffin hadn’t fallen down the stairs…”

  “I suppose if they’d brought it to the museum they might have found it eventually?”

  “Probably. But depending on who found it, they might not have recognized it as the lost Cook treasure.” I shook away the thoughts of “what if” and returned to my clam chowder. “You’ll have to see the crosses in person before we go.”

  “Where will Albert keep them? I mean, he needs to protect them from robbers and such, doesn’t he?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. “Hmm. You’re right. I wonder, though, if he’ll want to hide them away after all these years of searching for them. Maybe he’ll just display them on his wall or something.”

  “Maybe.” She smiled and checked the time on her phone. “Oh, it’s getting late. We’d better finish up so you can change for the concert.”

  “Right.” I tossed my last few strands of onion rings to the catbird. Several of his cousins showed up for the feast. “Let’s get a move on.”

  Chapter 51

  The weather cooperated for the outdoor event by the sea. White clouds scudded across the brilliant blue sky, courtesy of the fresh ocean breeze blowing across the land. Jack had hired a crew to move his piano to a wooden stage on the lawn. They set up row upon row of white chairs on the grass overlooking the beach and the choppy water beyond. Under a white tent nearby, a caterer worked hard to fill guests’ glasses with wine or sparking juice. The white cake in the shape of a violin had been almost demolished, with a few stray pieces left on its platter.

  People milled everywhere. Adults and teens and even little children grouped together in excited clusters, some wandering into Jack’s new studio and storefront. A few young musicians had tried out the instruments offered for sale, and from the satisfied glint in Jack’s eyes, I was sure he’d already sold a few.

  Albert and his extended family arrived right on time, and I’d been astonished to see the man in his Sunday best. From shined shoes to a tightly knotted tie, he was transformed.

  “Albert, you clean up well.” I hugged Jane and Beckett, shook hands with Robbie and his parents, and chatted with them for a while. After I showed them where the refreshments were, Albert took me aside.

  “Gus, I just wanted to say…” He started to choke up.

  I slid an arm around his shoulders. “No need to say it, Albert. It was about time those crosses made an appearance. Long overdue.”

  He gave me a wobbly smile. “Yes indeed, sonny.”

  I set him up in the tent with a glass of juice and piece of cake, and then wandered away to talk with Scout and the McGraw family. Finn introduced me to his nephew, Cody, his wife, Vivian, and their little boy, Martin.

  Fritzi had been helping corral her four little granddaughters—the McGraw girls who belonged to Libby and Finn—and needed a break. After she introduced me to them, they’d scampered away to frolic with the other children.

  I sat with Fritzi and Bubba, waiting for four o’clock when we were scheduled to play. The dog licked my hand and insisted I scratch behind his ears, which I did with great enthusiasm. Fritzi had dressed up for the occasion with a cobalt blue dress, enhanced with a yellow and blue silk scarf at her neck. She wore sparkly earrings and a necklace and looked quite elegant.

  We talked and laughed as if we’d known each other our whole lives. She told me her amazing story, including how she’d come over from Germany to serve in the Vanderhorn’s household at a tender young age, and how she’d secretly fallen deeply in love with Rudy Vanderhorn. I’d been astonished to hear that only last year she’d made a huge revelation to Libby, changing their lives forever.

  “So, now you tell me about your family,” she insisted. “I want to hear about your Elsbeth and Siegfried.”

  Astonished that she’d remembered their names, I sat back and smiled at her. “They were my best friends. They were twins, remember?”

  “Ja, Zwillinge.”

  “That’s right. But they were fraternal twins, not identical. Elsbeth was petite and dark haired, and Sig is just the opposite, very tall and blond.”

  “You married Elsbeth, Ja?”

  “I did. When I was only nineteen.” I went on to tell her how we’d had our daughter, Freddie, when we were still attending the New England Conservatory. I explained how Elsbeth had died, and how I’d mourned her for four long years before I met Camille.

  “But you never get over missing them, do you?” Fritzi said with a sad smile.

  “No,” I said. “It doesn’t go away.”

  She reached over and patted my hand. “I still miss my Rudy so much. You must miss Elsbeth, too.”

  “I do.” I told her the story of Elsbeth and Siegfried and how their family had escaped from East Germany. Fritzi encouraged me to go through my entire family, telling her about each person in my life. She especially loved the descriptions of my grandchildren.

  “And now it’s time for you to go home to see those babies,” she said. “I can tell you miss them.”

  “More than I can say.” The longing for home was overwhelming. As much as I loved this idyllic place by the sea, I ached to return home to the rolling green hills of the Genesee Valley and to the warm hugs of my family.

  It was almost time to begin. I leaned over to pat Bubba one more time before I finished off my glass of Riesling and handed it to a passing waiter. “Thanks.” He nodded to me, but didn’t meet my eyes. “You’re welcome, sir.”

  I laughed. I hadn’t been called sir in a while. Even my students back in Conaroga called me “Prof,” instead of sir.

  Jack came to my side with a huge smile. “Ready to rock ‘n roll, Gus?”

  “I’m not sure Saint-Saëns would call his piece rock,” I said with a chuckle. “But I’m ready.”

  I said goodbye to Fritzi, and followed him onto the stage.

  He stepped up to the microphone, and called the group to attention. “Hello, everyone. Would you please take your seats? We’re about to begin.”

  The crowd stirred and surged toward the chairs, noisily settling into their seats. When most of them had been seated, Jack began to speak.

  “I’m pleased to welcome you to the first of what I hope will be many concerts-by-the-sea,” he said, sweeping his hand across the horizon. “And to the official opening of my studio and store, Sea Strings.”

  A smattering of applause followed.

  “Today I’m featuring some of my recently completed violins,” he gestured toward the shop, “which are being offered for sale for the first time on the Cape. I hope one of
you budding young violinists will end up taking one of these special instruments home with you.” He smiled at the young people in the crowd, winking to a few who had already tried out the violins. “And now, I’d like to introduce my special guest, Professor Gustave LeGarde, all the way from Conaroga, New York.”

  I stood and gave a nod and wave to the crowd.

  “Gus and I met by accident about a month ago.” He tossed a smile at me. “And he graciously agreed to play piano for us. We’re going to start with Danse Macabre, by Camille Saint-Saëns.”

  From the first airy arpeggio on my piano and the prophetic one-note plucking of Jack’s strings, to the swelling, devilish tunes that exploded soon after, we worked through our duet with great enthusiasm, as if we’d been playing together for years. When we were done, the crowd jumped to their feet in a standing ovation.

  We bowed, and I stepped down to join Camille in the first row.

  She leaned toward me, sliding one arm through mine. She whispered in my ear. “Oh, honey. That was glorious.”

  She kissed my cheek and I felt an unparalleled sense of joy. I’d missed playing the piano, and couldn’t wait to get home to my Mason and Hamlin special artist’s edition piano with the extra long bass strings.

  Jack proceeded to play a unique collection of pieces on his violin, mixing classics with his own compositions that I found evocative of Irish jigs blended with serene tunes laced with dark, sweet emotions.

  When he had finished, the crowd erupted in applause and surged toward the stage, shaking his hand and asking for autographs. I grinned at him over the tops of the heads of his fans, and quietly faded into the background.

  When the party was over, I took my wife’s hand and led her to the grassy knoll overlooking the ocean. We stood and watched the late afternoon sun winking on the waves. Sailboats and kayaks moved briskly through the water, a kaleidoscope of colors on the deep blue sea.

  “Ready to go home?” I asked.

  She leaned into me. “You bet.”

  “Let’s go say our goodbyes and get back to the cottage so we can pack.”

  We said a private goodbye to Paines Creek Beach first, then turned back to The Seacrest to bid farewell to our friends.

  Chapter 52

  We stopped at Rachel Cook’s gravestone at five in the morning. Camille laid a bundle of wildflowers on the grave, said a little prayer, and turned to me. “I’m ready. Let’s hit the road.”

  The drive home took eleven hours. We listened to an audiobook by Harlan Coben, which made the trip fly by. When we finally reached the Route 390 exit on the New York State Thruway, I dialed home to give them a heads up. We’d be there in just over twenty minutes.

  “I can’t wait to see Shelby,” Camille said with a hitch in her voice. “I’ve missed her so much.”

  “And your mother?” I asked with a devilish smile.

  She chuckled. “Okay, so the break has been nice. But I will be glad to see her, too.”

  We wound down the highway, tired, but happy to note the familiar landmarks. We turned off at the Lakeville exit and headed down Route 256 toward Lakeville-Goodland Road.

  Eight minutes later, we topped Sullivan Hill and wound our way up the long dirt driveway leading to our farmhouse.

  There it stood, with its need for paint even more apparent after another month of the punishing summer sun. Our horses, Maggie and Diablo, raised their heads from the pasture, watching us approach the house. I tamped down the wave of sadness that threatened underneath, trying not to think of Max. Max who wouldn’t greet me at the door, who wouldn’t try to lick my hands and face, and who wouldn’t jump on our bed tonight to sleep beside Camille’s little dog, Boris.

  I pushed aside the sorrow—focusing on the opposite feelings—the thrill of the homecoming. In a burst of confusing emotions, now joy swirled through me.

  I felt like a punching bag.

  We parked by the porch and watched the kitchen door fly open.

  Johnny was the first to reach me. I got out, crouched down, and opened my arms to him. The child leapt into my embrace and hung on so tightly I didn’t know if he’d ever let go.

  “You’re home, Opa.”

  I kissed his cheeks and squeezed him to me, standing up with him wrapped around me. “It’s so good to see you, sport.”

  “I missed you, Opa.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  Two little girls suddenly attacked my legs. Marion and Celeste wrapped themselves around me, almost knocking me over. “Opa,” they cried together.

  I dropped to the lawn and let them crawl all over me, watching Camille hug Maddy, Shelby, Mrs. Pierce, Lily and Freddie in the background. I smiled at them over the swarming mass of children. Boris and Sheba both barked and ran around us in circles, making me once again think of my Max.

  When I finally stood, with Johnny still in my arms, I hugged the rest of the crew.

  “Oh, Dad.” My daughter embraced me for a long time. “It’s been way too long.”

  “I know, honey. And you won’t believe what happened to us out there.”

  “Really? You mean on top of going through a hurricane?”

  I nodded. “Um, yeah. We’ll tell you about it tonight.”

  She raised one eyebrow and laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Happy chatter ensued, but someone was missing, and I kept looking to the barn and carriage house for my pal. “Where’s Sig?” I finally blurted.

  Mrs. Pierce tittered with laughter. Maddy gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  “What’s going on?”

  Freddie took Johnny from me and set him on the ground. “You have to close your eyes, first. Then Johnny’s going to lead you to the barn for a surprise.”

  I couldn’t imagine what they were up to, but I closed my eyes as directed and was soon led into the barn by Johnny’s warm little hand.

  It was cool inside, and I welcomed the smell of fresh alfalfa hay and horses. “Can I open my eyes yet?”

  “Not yet, Professor,” came Siegfried’s voice. “You have to sit down here first, okay?”

  They led me to a bale of hay. I felt my way down to the bale and sat. “Okay. What’s the big surprise?”

  I heard Camille gasp. The twins giggled. And soon a furry bundle was placed on my lap.

  “Okay. Open your eyes,” Sig said.

  The puppy placed both front paws on my chest and lapped at my chin, unable to stop his wiggling dance. His soft, curly fur was white with patches of brown. His big eyes were chocolate brown and his long, soft ears flopped beside his face.

  Sig said, “You like him, Professor? I found him for you at the Lollypop Farm. He is a rescue dog.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning and looked up at my dear friend. “You got him…for me?”

  Siegfried let out a huge laugh. “Of course, Professor. Everyone knows you need a dog, Ja?”

  I cuddled the puppy to me, stroking his fur and letting him lap at my hands and face. “He’s beautiful, Sig. I don’t know what to say.”

  Sig approached me and gave me a sideways hug. “You don’t have to say anything. I can see you two are already going to be great friends.”

  “What shall we call him, Gus?” Camille said, leaning down to pat the puppy. “He’s so adorable. He looks just like a little stuffed animal.”

  I thought about it for a while. “Let’s give him some time and see what comes to mind.”

  “Okay.” She sat beside me and the puppy immediately jumped to her lap, taking her sweatshirt drawstring in his teeth and pulling on it with a little growl.

  I reached over to scrub behind his ears and he stopped for a moment to close his eyes in pleasure. “He’s got spirit, Sig.”

  “Ja, he does. But now it’s time for him to sleep while we go inside to eat.” Sig took the puppy and settled him in a pen he’d made with a soft bed and shavings. “Just for now, Professor. While you get unpacked and get some rest. Tomorrow we can start training him.”

  Mrs. Pierce—who rarely s
tepped foot into the barn—clapped her hands. “All right, Siegfried’s right. Enough of this lollygagging. Let’s get these two tired travelers inside and feed them.”

  I looked up with interest. “Did you cook for us, Mrs. Pierce? I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed your home cooking.”

  She tut-tutted and slipped an arm through Camille’s. “Did I cook? Of course I did. I made my famous lasagna, just for you two.”

  My stomach growled and my mouth watered. I couldn’t wait.

  She slid her other arm through mine and walked us toward the house. “Oh my goodness, you’d think Gus completely forgot who I am in the time you two went off on your fancy-dancy vacation.” Her laughter reminded me of the loons on Great Pond in Maine. “You and your missus, lying on the beach every day, frolicking in the waves. Oh my, I imagined it every minute of every day. And I just don’t know what you did with yourselves for a whole month!”

  Camille and I exchanged a glance. In her purse, she carried the pouch of pearls that Jane and Beckett had insisted we keep. She planned to have pendants made for all the women in the family for Christmas. But that was a secret, and as hard as it would be for her to keep, she had promised herself she’d try not to spill the beans.

  She beckoned to Shelby, who took her free arm. “Well, it wasn’t exactly boring, Mrs. Pierce.” She chuckled. “But we’ll tell you those stories later. We did miss you all dreadfully, though.”

  Shelby snorted a laugh. “Sure you did, Mom. And next time you go, you’d better take me with you.”

  Maddy trotted to my side and grabbed my free arm. Now there were five of us abreast, and I wondered if anyone else would join the growing line. Johnny ran in circles around us. Freddie carried the twins, although I don’t know how she did it, they were so big now. Sig and Lily walked side by side, he at his gargantuan height of six-foot-eight and she a petite five feet tall. In spite of their dramatic height difference, they looked perfect together.

  A tiny howl came from the barn, followed by another, and yet another.

  I disengaged from the long line of family. “Sorry, guys. I can’t leave him alone.” Without waiting for anyone to object, I turned and jogged toward the barn. My new little pal stood up on the side of the pen, his paws over the board and his nose pointed to the sky. He howled once more before he noticed me coming to the rescue.