by J A Whiting
The lights seemed too bright and hurt her eyes, and the cooking smells of the greasy late night breakfasts turned her stomach. The waitress returned, snapped the plastic lid over the coffee cup, placed it in front of Olivia, and turned to the cash register to ring in the sale. Olivia reached into her jacket pocket for the twenty dollar bill she had put there before she left her Medford apartment earlier that night. Her fingers bumped something small and hard.
She pulled her hand from her pocket and her eyes went wide. She was holding a thick gold cross attached to a heavy gold chain. The cross was elaborately carved and had a sunburst design in the center of it. In the middle of the sunburst was a small silver skull with a large diamond embedded in each of the eye sockets. The sunburst’s rays radiated in gold and silver from the center skull and were decorated with diamonds of varying sizes. The initial “S” was engraved on the back. The clasp was broken off. There were tiny splotches of blood on the cross and chain.
Olivia gaped at the necklace in her hand like she had never encountered a piece of jewelry. What the hell? Reacting to instinct, she clenched her fingers over the cross to hide it from anyone who might be looking her way and shoved it back into her pocket. The man from the accident must have put it in my pocket. Her eyes darted around the room to see if anyone had noticed what she was holding. No one was looking at her. She paid for the coffee and hurried back to her car, wiping the specks of blood from her fingers against her jeans.
***
It was two in the morning when Olivia turned onto Obed’s Lane and drove slowly down to Whitney Way. The land in this area of Ogunquit had been owned by Aggie’s husband’s family for over one hundred years. In the early 1900s, parcels had gradually been sold off to other people.
Olivia’s house was a three bedroom brick ranch. Its lot was small, but it sat overlooking the ocean, affording a magnificent view from almost every window. The Marginal Way edged along the front of Olivia’s property. The Way was a mile and a quarter paved public foot path which wound along the cliffs and rocky shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean meandering between shrubs of rosa rugosa and bayberry. The path extended from Shore Road to Perkin’s Cove.
Olivia turned into her driveway and parked in front of the one car garage. She walked around to the back lawn. There was a small stone patio with pots of red geraniums and pink and white impatiens scattered around. The moon lit up the night and made a path of silver across the ocean. Olivia took a deep breath of the sea air and stood for a long time, still, quiet, and alone, looking out over the Atlantic.
She shifted her gaze to her neighbor’s backyard and smiled at the manicured lawn and the borders of flowers edging his property. Joe was a master gardener whose yard was always bursting with blooms in spring, summer, and fall. Tourists walking by on the Way often stopped to admire Joe’s gardens, and if he happened to be out trimming or deadheading, people would engage him in discussions about what he had planted and how he cared for them. Joe was always eager to help and he patiently and good-naturedly answered the same questions over and over. Joe had lived in the house next to Olivia’s for over twenty years. Joe had been Aggie’s best friend…more than best friends, and he had been like a father to Olivia since she was a year old.
Olivia returned to her car and took out a small suitcase. She turned the key in the lock of the house. Her house. She wandered from quiet room to quiet room without turning on lights. The kitchen where she and Aggie had cooked pancakes together. The dining room with the cut glass bowl in the center of the old oak table where they had played cards and board games and had done messy crafts that left glue residue and glitter all over the place. The living room where the afternoon light would spread over the puzzle table set up in front of the bay window. The oak bookcases that displayed photographs that Aggie had taken over the years.
Olivia walked down the hallway and into the bedroom that used to be Aggie’s room. The moonlight cast a glow across the floorboards and over the double bed covered by the quilt that Aggie had stitched by hand. Each square had some importance. There was a square cut from the satin lining of Aggie’s wedding dress, a fabric patch from the dress Olivia had worn on her first day of school. Aggie had embroidered dates and descriptions on some of the pieces. Olivia sat on the bed and ran her hand over the different colored squares.
She reached into her pocket and took out the cross necklace. She thought about how the accident victim had clutched at her, pulling on her jacket, and she shuddered. Red Julie. What does it mean? Why did you put this in my pocket? Is it for someone named Julie? The necklace looked old, maybe antique. Olivia wished she could show it to Aggie. Aggie was a lawyer by profession, but she knew all about antiques and, in retirement, ran a small, busy shop near Perkin’s Cove. Aggie would go to Europe once a year and on road trips all over New England, Canada, the south, the Midwest, scouring yard sales, flea markets, and estate sales for treasures to sell in her shop.
The house was so quiet. A weight seemed to be pressing down on Olivia’s chest as she sat on Aggie’s bed alone in the darkness. Her lower lip quivered. She lifted a pillow from under the covers and rested her face against the soft cotton pillowcase. She caught the faint smell of Aggie’s perfume.
Tears tumbled from her eyes and she sobbed.
Chapter 3
Olivia couldn’t sleep and after three hours of tossing and turning, she decided to get up and go for a jog. She did four painful miles through the sleepy, early morning streets and as she turned the corner to her house, she saw Joe Hansen returning from his walk from the other direction. Joe had turned seventy-two around Christmas time, but was still active and strong from years of working in construction. He was just over six feet, lean, with a full head of silver grey hair and light blue eyes. Olivia smiled and waved and jogged to meet him.
“Liv!” Joe’s face was bright and happy. They hugged. “You made it. Get in late?”
“I got in around two,” Olivia said. “But I couldn’t sleep at all. I got up at six and went for a run.” They walked back to their houses together, Olivia’s arm linked through Joe’s.
“Thanks for stocking the fridge for me,” Olivia told him. “And for taking care of the flowers.”
“Any time,” Joe replied.
“You took your walk already?”
“I try to do my six mile loop early every day. Get it done before I head out to work. Oh, I got a new bike.” He chuckled. “It’s a tricycle.”
Olivia laughed. “A what?”
“You need to see it. It’s an adult bike but it has three wheels like a kid’s tricycle. It’s great for people with balance problems. Or for people who can’t ride a regular bike.” Joe smiled. “My sister sent it to me. She said I was getting too old to ride a regular bike. She worries about me. For no reason,” he added. Olivia knew that Joe’s sister must have sent him the bike because Aggie had died riding a bicycle, but she didn’t mention it.
“You’re in great shape,” Olivia told him. “You don’t need a bike like that.”
“Yeah, well. I kept it. It makes her happy. She doesn’t know I don’t use it.” His eyes twinkled.
“How’s the project going?” Olivia asked.
“That one’s done. Sold right away. But I have a new one. Got a beauty up in Wells. It’s not a beauty yet, but it will be. It’s right on the water.”
“I’d like to see it,” Olivia told him.
After graduating from college with a degree in history, Joe realized that historical renovation and restoration of older homes was how he wanted to spend his working life. He established his own company and, over the years, built a reputation for knowledgeable, high quality work. He was in demand all over the United States and Canada. He had written several books on the subject. In retirement, Joe had taken up buying, renovating, and selling properties along the Maine coast and he was often invited to speak at historical societies and conventions. He had even been a guest lecturer at Yale and MIT. He said that he was busier now than he had ever been in his life.
“Oh, by the way, there’s a new store in the center,” Joe said. “A book shop and it has a little café in it too.”
“Sounds nice,” Olivia said.
“It is. And an old friend of yours is working there,” Joe said.
“Really? Who is it?”
“You’ll just have to go to the center and check it out one day.”
“Joe, come on, tell me.”
“Nope.”
They reached their houses and stood at the end of Olivia’s driveway. “How about I treat you to dinner?” Joe asked. “We never got to have a proper graduation celebration, with Aggie passing and all.”
Olivia had graduated from Tufts University a few weeks after Aggie passed away. She had stayed in Medford for two extra weeks to finish some research she had worked on with one of the Tufts professors, to clean up her apartment and close out her lease. “I’d like that. Where should we eat?”
“Your choice. Where would you like to go?”
“Let’s go down to Perkins Cove. Let’s go early,” Olivia said. “Before the crowd shows up. Want to leave around five?”
“Sounds like tradition.” Joe smiled, but his eyes got all watery. Aggie, Joe, and Olivia always went early to dinner and sat outside on the patio of their favorite restaurant, surrounded by flowers, overlooking the harbor. Joe swallowed hard trying to clear the grief out of his throat. “I’ll be back at five. We can walk down to the cove on the Marginal Way.” Joe stared at Olivia for a few seconds. “I’m glad you’re back, Liv.” He hugged her.
Olivia wrapped her arms around him. “Me, too.”
“It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay,” Joe whispered, trying to convince them both.
Olivia nodded.
“I’ll see you at five.” Joe turned, but paused before crossing the lawn to his own house. “Liv, you do anything wrong by any chance?” he asked her.
Olivia looked at him puzzled.
Joe cocked his head to his right. Olivia turned to look. A dark car was coming down the lane. “Looks like an unmarked police car,” Joe told her. It stopped at the end of Olivia’s driveway.
A tall muscular man came around the front of the car. “Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” Olivia and Joe replied.
“I’m Detective Michaels.” He opened a leather wallet and flashed his badge at them. “Are you Olivia Miller?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” Olivia replied.
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m just following up on the accident report you gave last night.”
“You were in an accident?” Joe asked, concerned.
“No, I saw an accident,” she said. “Well, I didn’t see it happen. I came on it afterwards. I was going to tell you about it tonight.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions, Ms. Miller?” the detective asked.
“No, I don’t mind. Would you like to come into the house?”
“No, thank you.” The man shook his head. “This should only take a few minutes.” He pulled out a notebook.
Olivia recounted what she had told the officer the night before.
“Did you notice anything unusual about the victim?”
“How do you mean?” Olivia asked.
“Did he say anything to you?”
Olivia shook her head. “No. Well…he was trying to say something. Tell me something. But he …there was blood in his mouth.” Olivia tensed up recalling what she had seen. Joe put his arm around her. “I couldn’t understand what he said. It was all just garbled.”
“You’re sure there was nothing you could make out?” the detective asked.
Olivia shook her head again. “Nothing. Sorry.”
The man wrote in his notebook. “Okay then. Thank you for your time. Sorry to bother you so early.” The detective shook their hands and went back to his car. He turned in Olivia’s driveway, backed out and drove away.
Olivia’s face was ashen.
“You okay?” Joe questioned.
She looked at Joe. “The man died at the scene.”
“Oh, no.” Joe looked down. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” He took her arm and walked her to her door.
***
At five, Joe stood in Olivia’s kitchen while she found her sandals and pulled them on. “I’m starving,” she announced. “Can’t wait to eat.”
They headed out the door. “Wait, I want to get my wallet.” Olivia turned back and grabbed it off the kitchen counter. Joe stood in the open doorway.
“What the hell?” he muttered. He was looking out at the road.
Olivia came up beside him to see what had Joe’s attention.
“Now what?” she asked when she saw what was outside. A police car had pulled up and parked beside her front lawn. An officer got out and started up her driveway. She and Joe looked at each other. Olivia sighed. They stepped out onto the walkway.
“Hello. I’m Officer Chapman. Are you Olivia Miller?” he asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Ms. Miller, would you mind if I follow up with you on the accident you saw last night?’
Olivia’s face was stern. “Okay. But how many times do I have to answer these questions?”
The officer was polite. “We just sometimes need to follow up. It won’t take long.” He took out a small notebook. “Was the man conscious when you arrived on the scene, Ms. Miller?”
“Like I said to the detective this morning…”
The officer interrupted. “Detective?”
“The detective who came this morning,” Olivia told him.
“What was his name?”
Olivia and Joe looked at each other. Joe shook his head.
“I didn’t get his name.” Olivia thought for a moment. “Wait…it was…Michaels. Detective Michaels.”
“What did he say?” the officer asked.
“He asked about the accident. He asked me what the man said to me. Things like that.”
The officer looked from Olivia to Joe. “Would you excuse me for a minute?” He walked back to his patrol car and got in. He sat there for a while talking into his radio.
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked Joe.
“Not sure. But something isn’t right.”
The officer came back up the driveway. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He hesitated. “Would you mind coming down to the station?”
“The station?” Olivia’s voice was high.
“What’s this about?” Joe asked.
“No need for concern. It will only take a little while,” the officer said. “The captain would like to have a word with you. Simply precautionary.”
“Precautionary?” Joe repeated.
Olivia looked pained. “Am I in some sort of trouble?”
“No, no. Nothing like that,” the officer responded. He hesitated again, almost said something else but thought better of it. “The captain will explain it all to you.” He smiled.
Olivia and Joe exchanged glances.
“What should I do?” Olivia asked Joe.
Joe looked at the officer. “Guess it can’t hurt to go down there. See what this is about. But I’m going along.”
The three of them got into the police car and headed to the headquarters.
“So much for our early dinner,” Joe complained.
***
“What do you mean you don’t have a Detective Michaels here?” Olivia demanded.
“It appears that the man who paid you a visit this morning is an imposter,” the captain informed them. “There is no record of a Detective Michaels at any of the departments in the area.”
Olivia let out a breath. “Could he have been a private investigator?”
“He should have identified himself as such,” the captain said. “There are private investigators working in the area, but we know them and have a fairly good relationship with them.”
“Couldn’t he have been from out of the area? Hired by someone not living around here?” Joe asked.
“Certainly possible. But PIs usually
identify themselves appropriately. This man who paid you a visit? As far as we know, he is not a legitimate member of any law enforcement agency. And he could be brought in for impersonating a police officer,” the captain said. He directed his attention to Olivia.
“If he shows up again, refuse to speak with him. And as soon as you are away from him, call 911,” the captain urged. “Do not put yourself in danger by confronting him in any way.”
Olivia nodded.
“Ms. Miller…I hate to ask you…but would you be willing to speak with one of the state police detectives on Monday?”
“Is that necessary?” Joe asked.
“It would be most appreciated…because of a turn of events.”
Joe and Olivia looked puzzled.
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.
The captain hesitated. His expression was serious. He cleared his throat. “The victim…the man who died at the scene. He had been shot.”
Olivia’s and Joe’s eyes widened.
The chief cleared his throat again and continued, “You couldn’t understand him because he…his tongue had been cut out of his mouth.”
Olivia gasped.
Joe shook his head. “Ugh, no,” he said.
Chapter 4
Joe and Olivia skipped the restaurant. They picked up a pizza and walked back to Joe’s house. He made a fire in his fire pit and they sat in the yard munching on slices loaded with cheese, tomatoes, peppers and mushrooms. Joe had a beer and Olivia was sipping iced tea. The sun was setting and the sky was a mix of blues, violets and pinks. The slight ocean breeze cooled the air from the unseasonable heat of the day. It was getting dark, but tourists still streamed by on the Marginal Way.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with Aggie’s shop?” Joe asked, leaning back in the Adirondack chair. He wanted to talk about something besides the accident.
“Yeah. At first, I was just going to put it up for sale, but now I’m thinking about opening it up. Maybe just limited hours this summer. It will keep me busy and give me time to think about whether to keep it or not. I don’t know a fifth of what Aggie knew about antiques, but I’m willing to learn. And I could definitely use some income.”
