Trimmed With Murder

by Sally Goldenbaum

  “You’re a step ahead of me,” Rachel said when Ben had finished. “I have yet to meet her in person, although I talked to her briefly today.”

  “But you knew she existed,” Don said.

  They paused while the waitress wrote down their dinner choices and disappeared.

  “I did, although Lydia rarely talked about her granddaughter,” Rachel said, “and when she did, it was with a coldness that surprised me.”

  “It’s interesting that Amber carries her mother’s name,” Ben said.

  “Father Northcutt told me that Amber’s mother had named her daughter and filed her birth certificate from the hospital, before she became incapacitated. I suppose Lydia could have changed the last name if she had wanted to, once she had confirmed the baby’s paternity, but she didn’t. She said if I had any questions when settling the will, Esther or Father Larry might have the answers. Esther apparently kept in touch with Amber—or at least tried to—after she left Sea Harbor.”

  “There’s something very sad about it all,” Nell said. “This is such a small town and the Cummings family is so well known. And yet Amber appears almost as a ghost, an outsider.” She thought about the woman with the angry eyes, but someone who softened almost immediately by simple acts of kindness, a cup of coffee. Birdie’s gentle touch on her shoulder.

  “What about Barbara and Stuart?” Ben asked. “Are they involved in Amber’s life at all?”

  “I don’t know anything about that. Amber was already gone when I met Lydia and got to know the family. And as I said, she wasn’t talked about much. I’m finally meeting with all of them tomorrow to go over that part of Lydia’s will, including Amber. Lydia insisted on that, even though this kind of dramatic ‘reading of the will’ is usually only done in the movies. She also wanted Father Northcutt involved. Maybe to calm any ill will. Keep peace. Though I don’t think any of them will have a problem with it.”

  The arrival of quail and lobster risotto, monkfish and duck breast silenced them while they breathed in the intoxicating aromas.

  The candlelight flickering on the table, the succulent fish and meat, and the warm ambience of the small room brought peace and contentment to the couples, and the next two hours went by in a comfortable haze of friendship. It was only after pushing out his chair, declaring that the homemade banana cake had made the added space physically necessary, that Don Wooten suggested they call it a night. “It’s that or I have to get rid of this belt,” he said. “Besides, Rachel has a full day tomorrow. Not a restful Sunday, for sure.”

  Don and Ben went to retrieve coats and scarves, pay the check, and bring the car around, while Rachel excused herself to use the ladies’ room. Momentarily alone, Nell let the pleasantness of the evening settle around her. She looked through the bay window into the black night, savoring the quiet. Passersby were infrequent, and she watched a couple coming toward her, their shoulders touching as if to share bodily warmth. Their heads were close together, hands shoved in pockets.

  The couple was almost beyond the windows before Nell realized whom she was watching. She half stood, lifting a hand to catch their attention, but before she could wave, they had moved on and only the backs of Amber Harper and Charlie Chambers were visible through the last pane of windows, her nephew’s hand now out of his pocket, his arm wrapped protectively around his companion’s hooded jacket.

  • • •

  “They looked chummy,” Nell said to Ben as they prepared for bed.

  “Hmm,” Ben responded, his eyes already drooping as he sat on the side of the bed and slipped off his watch.

  Nell plumped the pillows. “And where do you think he’s been all day?” Charlie hadn’t come back to the Endicott’s guesthouse since walking out that morning, following Amber through the door. The space in the driveway where they had suggested he park, noticeably vacant.

  “Maybe he’s meeting with Lily Virgilio. Finding out what he’s supposed to be doing at the clinic. The fellow has a job that probably starts Monday. It’d be a wise move to find out exactly where and when.”

  “Of course,” Nell murmured. She had vowed, with Ben’s enthusiastic encouragement, not to hover. Charlie was in his mid-thirties, certainly able to plan his day without her help.

  But she was hovering; she knew it, and Ben knew it, too.

  “You’re right,” she said, forcing conviction into her voice as she crawled in beside Ben, wrapping one arm across his chest. “Of course you’re right.”

  “Hmm,” he said, reaching up with one hand and clicking off the light.

  But what had Charlie been doing in Gloucester? With a woman he didn’t know, someone he’d called a thief.

  Nell’s thoughts became more tangled as Ben drifted off, his breathing gradually slowing down.

  She turned onto her back, her eyes tracing the night shadows on the ceiling and her thoughts on a nephew who had had a much harder time navigating adulthood than his brother and sister had—even though outwardly Charlie Chambers had it all going for him: brains, looks, personality.

  But somewhere along the road, he’d stumbled.

  And now that she had this unexpected chance to be in her nephew’s life, Nell felt a compulsion to make sure no one threw pitfalls into the road he wanted to travel.

  Chapter 7

  It was Father Lawrence Northcutt who brought Ben into the fray the next day. But even important matters like wills had to wait until after breakfast. He spotted Ben at the Sweet Petunia Restaurant, sidled up to him, and suggested he’d like to have a word. But only after breakfast.

  Ben wholeheartedly agreed on that. So it wasn’t until after both men were filled to the gills with the chef’s creamy spinach omelet that Father Larry had his time with Ben. They walked to the window and talked in private for a few minutes, and then, while Ben left to get the car, Father Larry came over to Nell.

  “I’m stealing him away for a bit later this afternoon, Nell,” the priest said with a bow of his head. “But never you fear, darlin’, I promise he’ll be back home in time for dinner and in fine shape. No worse for wear—at least that’s my honest hope.”

  “I second that hope,” Nell said. She studied the look on the priest’s face. “But you’re looking a bit worried. I’m assuming that means you aren’t inviting Ben to the rectory for a taste of your finest Irish whiskey.”

  “No, not this time. But it’s nothing to worry about. We’re meeting with the Cummings family, is all,” he said. He paused for a moment and looked off into the distance, as if imagining the scene, seeing the family sitting around his rectory, waiting, listening—all of them together, including the niece they’d never claimed. Then he concentrated back on Nell. “I always tell my parishioners to mentally prepare themselves before they go to family weddings or funerals—and all the things that surround those events—like who gets Mama’s favorite chair, Papa’s pipe. And bigger things, of course—property, wills. Those events have an insidious way of sometimes bringing out the worst in people. I’ve known Lydia Cummings for a long time, helped her bury her husband. And then a son.

  “It’s a decent family and certainly a successful one, very generous to the church. But there can always be emotional complications after a mother or father dies, one who has held the reins. And I’ve found it never hurts to have Ben’s calm presence at my side on such occasions.” He pulled back Nell’s chair, helped her with her coat, and walked her toward the entrance.

  Calm presence. . . along with a dose of legal expertise, Nell suspected. And just maybe, in this case, so Amber Harper had someone in her court.

  Father Northcutt had called upon Ben frequently in recent years, employing him, as he told Nell, as his unofficial consultant. “Especially in family matters,” he said. “Ben is the voice of calm and logic in those cases.”

  Nell touched the priest’s arm and reassured him with a smile and squeeze, but added that she wanted Ben back
in one piece.

  Father Northcutt agreed with a smile, then released Nell to hurry out the door and into the warmth of the car waiting at the restaurant steps.

  • • •

  Father Northcutt stayed true to his word—and more so. Ben came home, but even sooner than Nell had anticipated. The beginnings of a fire in the stone fireplace had just begun to warm the room, and she’d yet to pull the chowder out of the refrigerator to heat up.

  At the sound of the garage door opening, she pressed a button on the controller and Laila Biali’s husky voice filled the room.

  A glass of wine together in front of the fire. Mood music and spicy chowder. Sunday with Ben. Her favorite time of the week.

  But Father Northcutt had failed to mention that Ben’s return would not bring with it the promise of a quiet Sunday evening.

  “She never showed up,” Ben said as he walked through the back door. He glanced at the fire, then strode across the room to the kitchen island and gave Nell a hug. “Fire feels good.”

  “Who didn’t show up?”

  “Amber Harper.”

  Nell frowned. “Really? That’s strange. Rachel had given her all the information, and it’s just a short walk from the Gibsons’. Esther would surely have told her how to get to the church if she’d forgotten.”

  “Rachel called Esther from the rectory after we rescheduled the meeting. She and Richard had talked to Amber this morning—the first time they’d really seen her. Esther said she’d gotten in very late last night.”

  Nell nodded. They hadn’t heard Charlie drive in, but assumed it was late.

  “They talked about the meeting, where it was, what time. Amber said she had a couple of things to do first but she’d be there. Esther made sure she had a heavy scarf and hat and off she went, asking briefly where a good doughnut shop was.

  “Esther felt awkward with all her mothering, she said—she didn’t want to overwhelm Amber. But apparently Amber didn’t take offense. She listened, even tapped the time into her phone. Esther did say that she didn’t show much interest in the reason for the meeting, though. She told Esther that if Lydia left her anything, it wouldn’t be much. She was cynical, Esther said.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why she wasn’t at the meeting,” Nell said. “She came all this way—and wasn’t that why? For the will? Do you think her inheritance was insignificant?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t read the will, just the directives that Lydia had insisted on. Often now, wills are mailed out to people, but Lydia wanted the will read to all the beneficiaries at the same time.”

  Ben took a beer out of the refrigerator and snapped off the cap. He looked out the window toward the cottage. “Charlie’s car wasn’t in the drive when I drove in, but there’s a light on in the cottage. Any idea what’s going on?”

  Nell walked over to the sink and looked out. “That’s strange. Maybe we should check—”

  Ben nodded. “Okay. Let me do it, Nell.”

  Nell knew what he was thinking. It wouldn’t seem like hovering if he did it. The man’s way.

  Without grabbing a jacket, he pulled up the collar of his flannel shirt and opened the deck doors, walking quickly into the impending darkness.

  Nell watched him walk down the steps and across the yard to the guesthouse. Its front door faced the woods, a design she and Ben had purposely implemented to give their guests privacy and not feel their front door was being watched from the kitchen window. Easier to come and go without being detected.

  Nell turned away from the window and took the chowder and loaf of French bread out of the refrigerator. She had made too much, as usual. But it didn’t matter, she could freeze the rest. It was too early for dinner, but being busy calmed the anxious feeling inside her that something in her world wasn’t quite right.

  The ringing of the phone was a welcome distraction, not intrusive as it sometimes was. Nell rummaged around on the counter until she found her cell. Izzy’s name appeared, and Nell picked it up quickly.

  “What are you and Ben up to?” Izzy wondered. And, “Is Charlie there?” She told Nell he had been floating around in her head all day. “He’s right here in Sea Harbor, Aunt Nell, and the only words I’ve spoken to him have been about as intimate as what I exchanged with the sacker at Shaw’s today.”

  “I’m not sure if he’s here.” Nell glanced out the window. Two figures were walking up the flagstone path. “I take that back. He’s here. He and Ben are coming in right now. I’m putting on some chowder—”

  “Chowder? My favorite. I made that apple crisp you like this afternoon . . .”

  It was settled, then. Sunday night dinner, a family affair. They’d collect Abby and be over shortly.

  If that was all right, of course.

  • • •

  Ben stoked the fire, then began mixing a shaker of martinis while Nell explained to Charlie that Amber hadn’t shown up for an important meeting that afternoon. The others were worried. Did he know where she was?

  Charlie, frowned, concern shadowing his face. “She didn’t show? She has my car.”

  The sound of a car in the drive interrupted and they all looked toward the door, half expecting Amber to walk in.

  But it was the Chambers clan, Red leading the way, immediately rubbing up against Charlie’s jeans.

  Charlie kneaded his ears while Izzy put the still-warm apple crisp on the counter and Sam climbed the back stairs to settle Abby down for an early bedtime.

  Ben repeated briefly to all of them what little he knew about the meeting that was cut short. “Basically nothing happened. We rescheduled,” he said.

  The creases in Charlie’s forehead deepened.

  “So you loaned her your car?” Ben asked.

  Why? Nell thought, and realized suddenly that while she’d felt some compassion for the young woman, she had also felt a slight distrust, something she wasn’t proud of. She tried now to push it aside. The concern on Charlie’s face was easy to see—but whether it was for his missing car or for the missing woman, she wasn’t sure.

  “I told her last night that I was still camping out in your guesthouse, just in case she needed anything. And I guess she did. She showed up this morning, pounding on the door with doughnuts and coffee. She had walked up from Harbor Road, bundled up like an Eskimo. The doughnuts were a ploy so I’d let her use my car. She needed one today and had never driven a stick, which is what the lady she’s staying with has.”

  “Why did she need a car?” Nell asked.

  Charlie didn’t answer for a minute, as if it was a most logical question, but one he himself hadn’t thought to ask. Finally he said, “She mentioned the meeting at the rectory around four.”

  “She came for your car this morning?” Ben said. The implication was clear. He passed around martinis while he talked.

  “She said there was something else she needed to do first.” This time there was a hint of defensiveness in Charlie’s voice that he tempered with a swallow of martini.

  Nell watched the shadow across Charlie’s face. It wasn’t really their business. They all knew that. But somehow it seemed as though it was. Amber had taken Charlie’s car. Somewhere.

  Everyone was quiet.

  Izzy busied herself by unwrapping a circle of Camembert. She tugged off the last piece of paper and set the cheese on a board next to the crackers.

  Nell stirred cream into the chowder.

  Charlie stared into the martini glass as if the answer were there in the clear liquid. He took another swallow, then fingered the toothpick, swirling the olive around the sides. Finally he looked at Ben. “Hell, Uncle Ben, I don’t have a clue where she is or why she needed my car. All I know is wherever she was headed was too far to walk. For someone who likes to walk and is used to hitchhiking, I suppose that means some distance.” His voice had an edge to it, but his eyes held concern.


  The popping and crackling of the cheery fire at the other end of the room belied the grim silence that settled over them.

  Sam spoke first, his words tentative. “Hey, man, what do you think? We’re here to help. Do we need to call the police? The chief’s a friend of ours. He’d be discreet. Could Amber have taken off, gone back to wherever she came from?”

  And taken your BMW with her?

  Chapter 8

  And the silent answer was Of course she could have.

  The rattle of the deck doors rescued the moment. It saved them from saying what was on all their minds, words they’d regret—a stolen car, Charlie’s poor judgment. A missing girl.

  Amber stood on the deck, her breath fogging the glass and one gloved hand tapping insistently.

  The sigh of relief was audible.

  Nell reached the French door first and ushered Amber in out of the cold. They walked together into the steamy kitchen, the chowder now warming on the stove, the oven readying to crisp the French bread.

  Amber brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and looked around until she spotted Charlie on the other side of the kitchen. She dangled his keys in her hand. “I didn’t want to leave these on the doorstep back there. It’s so windy. But your car’s in the drive.” She dropped the key chain on the island and looked around at the others. Then looked slightly awkward. “Thanks,” she added.

  The relief on Charlie’s face was clear, his anger dissolving in an instant as his eyes met hers. He looked down at the keys in her hand.

  Amber glanced at the others. “You must think I make a habit of barging in on you—like a bad penny.” Her words came out slowly, with a slight catch to her voice.

  At first Nell thought it was because she was truly embarrassed about coming in the way she did. But when she suggested to Amber that she warm up with a glass of wine and walked over to take her jacket, she realized it wasn’t embarrassment that was causing the catch in her voice—at least not because she had barged in on them.

  Amber had been crying.