by Anne Canadeo
There seemed to be a blank spot, Suzanne realized, where Gloria’s favorite chaise longue usually sat, the top portion shaded by a standing umbrella. Then she spotted the chaise down near the end of the pool, left at a random angle. It was a heavy piece but had wheels on one end, so it was not impossible to move, she realized. Gloria must have rolled it away from her usual spot for some reason.
Suzanne resisted the urge to run outside, clean up, and rearrange the lawn furniture. She wasn’t Gloria’s maid, for goodness sakes. A few dirty dishes weren’t going to throw the deal, she thought. I’ll just have to remind her for next time …
“Do you know how much it costs to heat that pool?” Ken stood by the glass doors, gazing outside. “The waterfall must run on some sort of electric motor … right?”
Suzanne had planned on showing the outside last, after they toured the house. But it was usually better to go with the flow if the clients were hot about the property.
“I need to check with the owner on those costs. I’ll make a note, Brad. Why don’t we go outside and take a look. All the stone and tile is imported from Italy, and there’s a beautiful mosaic at the center of the pool.”
The glass door was unlocked. Ken Bueller pulled it open and politely let his wife step out before he did. Suzanne hung back a moment, checking her specs. Ken Bueller had so many questions, he must have been a quiz show host in a past life.
“Oh my God!” Marcia Bueller stood in the middle of the patio and squealed. Suzanne looked up and saw her through the glass, pointing at the pool.
She loves that mosaic, Suzanne thought.
Then she watched Marcia’s hand rise to cover her mouth. She turned to look at her husband, her expression hardly one of delight. More like shock and horror.
“Hey, what is that? … is there someone … in there?” Her husband also stared at the pool, then trotted down to the patio’s lower level.
“Good Lord … Marcia … don’t come any farther. Don’t look,” he shouted back, waving his hand at her.
Suzanne raced outside to the pool. Shards of sunlight glinted off the sparkling blue water, making it hard to see clearly.
She cupped her hand over her eyes and stepped closer to the edge.
Something was floating in the water at the far end. She couldn’t quite tell what it was. She walked closer, down the side of the pool toward the waterfall.
She could see it now. It was a body … facedown. Perfectly still. Except for a slight bobbing motion caused by the current from the tumbling water.
Suzanne ran the last few steps to get a better look.
It was a woman. A loose yellow top billowed around her middle, exposing her bare waist up to the band of her bra. She wore white capris below that clung to her bottom and thighs, the waterlogged fabric practically transparent.
Long blonde hair drifted around her head like water weeds, with dark roots showing near the scalp in back.
A tangle of orange yarn floated nearby.
Suzanne staggered backward, gasping for air. “Oh my God—it’s Gloria! Call nine-one-one. Get some help. Please!”
The folder of papers Suzanne held slipped from her grip … and everything went black.
Chapter Four
Lucy? I’m at Gloria’s. There’s been a terrible accident …”
“Suzanne, what’s the matter? What happened?”
Lucy had just walked in after a visit to the beach with Tink. She scrambled to pick up the phone in time. All she could hear now were Suzanne’s muffled sobs.
“It’s so awful,” Suzanne managed, choking on her words. “Jamie will be back soon … and the police have to tell him …”
“Tell him what? Did something happen to Gloria?”
Suzanne burst into tears again. “Gloria’s dead. She must have fallen into the swimming pool …”
“Oh my God! No …” Lucy dropped into a kitchen chair, unable to believe Suzanne’s words. “How can that be? I just saw her in town last night.”
“I spoke to her last night, too,” Suzanne said. “They’re still trying to figure out when it happened … and what happened exactly. The police said I could call someone. I tried to call Kevin, but he didn’t pick up.”
Suzanne’s voice dissolved again into a burble of sobs.
“How can I help? What do you want me to do? Should I go to your house and check on the kids?”
“Kevin took them all to the Cape to visit his parents this weekend. I didn’t know whom to call. The police aren’t supposed to let anyone else in, but Detective Walsh just came …”
“Detective Walsh?” All the Black Sheep knitters knew Detective Walsh, though they hardly had warm feelings for him. He’d investigated the murder of a village shopkeeper, Amanda Goran, just a few months ago and Maggie had been his lead suspect.
“Yes, it’s Walsh. Small world, right?” Suzanne added in a lower voice. “He can see I’m a basket case, so he said I can have someone come over and stay with me. For support. Are you free?”
“Sure, I’ll come. I’ll leave right this minute,” Lucy told her. “Sit tight, I’ll be right there.”
Lucy hung up, then wondered if she should tell any of their other friends about poor Gloria. Maggie, Dana, and even Phoebe were going to be terribly upset by this news. Lucy didn’t even want to imagine it. Somehow, she and Suzanne would have to get word to them. The most important thing now was to help Suzanne.
Lucy’s old running shoes were full of sand and her T-shirt was stuck to her skin with a combination of salt air and perspiration, but she didn’t want to waste a minute changing. She quickly grabbed her handbag and keys, then headed for Gloria’s house, driving on autopilot.
But how could Gloria be dead? She just saw her last night at the restaurant, all cheery. It was impossible. It must be some huge mistake, Lucy’s heart argued. But she sensed there had been no mistake. Life was fragile; a shaky proposition. A minute-to-minute arrangement. Of course, we couldn’t think about it that way. We couldn’t function very well, constantly holding in mind the image of our fragile mortality, dangling from a thread.
The truth was, there were no guarantees for anyone. Every day, every hour could be the last.
Poor Gloria, Lucy thought. Why here, why now, when she’d finally found some happiness? It didn’t seem fair.
As she drove toward The Landing, memories of Thursday night came to mind, cruising down these same roads, sheltered by the arching boughs of towering old trees, the big houses that looked so grand and solid, seeming immune to the troubles of ordinary lives. Was that only two nights ago? It seemed light-years now, Lucy reflected.
Despite her knowledge of the sad situation, the scene in front of Gloria’s house still surprised her. Three police cruisers, two local and one state, and an ambulance with a swirling red light on top, stood parked at the top of the drive.
She parked farther down and quickly walked up to the front door. A uniformed policeman stood at the doorway, eyeing her as she approached.
“I’m Lucy Binger, a friend of Mrs. Cavanaugh’s?” Lucy pointed to Suzanne, who was standing in the living room, talking to a tall, bald man who wore glasses. An investigator, she guessed.
“Detective Walsh said she could have someone with her. For support,” she added.
The uniformed policeman’s expression didn’t change. “Can I see some ID?” Lucy handed him her license. He looked it over, then handed it back. “Print your name and sign over there.” He handed her a clipboard and pointed to the spot she needed to fill in. The sheet showed a list of names and times for arrival and departure. She noticed Suzanne near the top as she scribbled her signature.
“You can go in. Just don’t touch anything.”
“I won’t,” Lucy promised.
Was this a crime scene? Gloria’s death had been an accident. But the police had to inspect the place to confirm that, she guessed. They had to investigate to eliminate the possibility of foul play. She knew as much from watching police dramas on TV.
As Lucy walked
into the living room, she saw Suzanne standing alone by the fireplace. Suzanne glanced her way and her big brown eyes lit up. She ran over and Lucy gave her a tight hug.
“Are you okay?” Lucy eyed her with concern. Her poor friend looked as if she’d been put through the spin cycle.
Suzanne’s eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying, her eye makeup smeared and her long dark hair flying off in all directions.
“Oh Lucy … it was horrible to find her like that … you can’t imagine …”
“You found her?”
Suzanne nodded bleakly, then blew her nose on a wadded-up tissue. “My client, Marcia Bueller, saw the body first. But I was the one who got really close and … recognized her.”
Lucy sighed and squeezed Suzanne’s hand. Poor Suzanne. That was even worse than she’d imagined.
“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to,” Lucy told her.
“It’s okay. I want to tell you. I really need to talk to someone who knew her. Another friend. You know.”
Lucy nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“I brought my clients, the Buellers, over to show the house,” she began. Then she went on to explain how the couple went outside first to the patio while she stayed in the living room, brushing up on the specs. Then she heard Marcia scream and by the time she got outside, both Buellers had spotted Gloria floating in the pool.
“We didn’t even realize what it was at first. She was on the far end. So I ran down and took a closer look … and saw her. Facedown in the water. But once I looked closer, I could tell …”
Suzanne’s voice trailed off again and Lucy saw her eyes fill with tears.
“How horrible,” Lucy said quietly. Suzanne nodded bleakly. “What did you do, call the police?”
“I blacked out,” Suzanne admitted. “I mean, the shock and all, seeing her like that. Ken Bueller called nine-one-one and Marcia splashed some cold water on my face. Then we just waited and the police came. Uniformed police came first and they called the detective and said we had to wait to talk to him. And we’ve been waiting ever since. They questioned each of us separately, in the kitchen. But they said we can’t leave yet.”
“I guess it won’t be too much longer,” Lucy said. “Where is … Gloria?” she managed to ask.
“Last I checked, she’s still out there.” Suzanne tilted her head in the direction of the patio. “But they may have taken her away by now. I asked what was going to happen after Detective Walsh questioned me. He said he couldn’t move the body until the medical examiner came, or something like that. But I think that guy has gotten here. They’ve been taking photographs and looking around the house and the property. I guess they need to be very official. But it seems pretty obvious. She fell into the pool and drowned.”
“I guess,” Lucy murmured. Gloria had expressed her disdain for the pool’s chlorinated water the other night because she hated what it did to her skin and hair. Lucy wondered now if she even knew how to swim. Maybe she was a weak swimmer and panicked when she fell in the deep end?
“Maybe she tripped and hit her head on something,” Lucy offered.
“Maybe.” Suzanne sighed. “They didn’t tell Jamie over the phone. They just said it was an accident.”
“When did the police call him?”
“Not too long after Walsh came. Nearly two hours ago,” Suzanne added, glancing at her watch.
They both knew what that meant. Boston was only about two hours. If you were lucky with traffic and pushing the speed limit, you could make it out to Plum Harbor even faster. Jamie would walk through the door any moment. Lucy felt her breath catch just thinking about it.
Suzanne glanced across the room. “The Buellers are traumatized. Ken Bueller won’t even look me in the eye. Could you imagine it, though? You go out house hunting on a sunny Saturday afternoon and this happens? They may never make an appointment with a real estate agent again.”
They’d never make one with Suzanne, Lucy felt pretty sure of that. But she didn’t want to make her friend feel even worse. In the big picture, what did that matter?
“Don’t worry about them. They’ll recover. They didn’t even know Gloria. Not the way we did.” Lucy rested her hand on Suzanne’s shoulder. “Why don’t you stay over tonight? You probably don’t want to go home to a big empty house, right?”
“Can I, Lucy? That would be great. Thanks. I was really dreading going home later.” Suzanne drew in a deep shaky breath.
Lucy was about to answer but the scene outside drew her attention. Suzanne cast her a curious look.
“What is it?” Suzanna turned and followed her gaze.
Down at the end of the pool they saw some officers lift a long bundle in a heavy plastic bag and place it on a gurney. Gloria, wrapped in a body bag. Lucy’s breath caught in her throat as the gurney was wheeled out of view.
“I can’t watch.” Suzanne shook her head and started crying again. Lucy patted her hand “I still can’t believe it. I’m really worried about Jamie. You know how close they were. Still in that honeymoon stage, for goodness sakes. He’ll be devastated.”
“Devastated” was one word that came to mind.
“Crushed,” “overwhelmed,” “grief stricken” were a few more.
As if their anxious thoughts had summoned him, Lucy suddenly spotted Jamie standing in the foyer.
He was flanked by two uniformed policemen who stood on either side as he walked toward the living room.
“Suzanne … Lucy …” he called out to them, sounding surprised to see them there.
He turned, started to walk over to them, but one of his police escorts held him back. “You can speak with your friends later, Mr. Barnett. Detective Walsh is waiting to see you outside,” the officer said simply.
Would they have Jamie identify the body right here? How awful. Lucy hoped not.
Jamie nodded, and continued walking. He looked haggard and disheveled. As if he had dressed in a hurry and hadn’t slept very well. But he’d been at an art scene party last night, boozing and schmoozing. Probably bar hopping after the party ended, too. He had probably been sleeping late and the phone call from the police would have seemed like a nightmare.
Once Jamie went outside, Lucy and Suzanne drifted over to the glass doors. They didn’t say a thing to each other but both knew what the other was feeling. They couldn’t help themselves. They felt compelled to watch the unbearable scene unfold, like being unable to turn away from the scene of an accident.
They watched Jamie walk down the length of the pool.
Detective Walsh appeared and walked up to meet him. Lucy recognized him easily, even at a distance. A tall, thin man with a long, sad face. He rarely smiled and when he did, it appeared to pain him. That’s how she’d describe Walsh.
She saw Walsh speak quietly to Jamie for a moment, with his characteristic deadpan expression that Lucy remembered so well, then reach out and briefly touch Jamie’s arm.
Then Lucy heard Jamie scream, “No … no … oh my God … please, no …”
He covered his face with his hands and fell to his knees. The uniformed officers gently tugged Jamie up and maneuvered him to the chaise longue that stood nearby.
Jamie sat holding his head in his hands, his big body shaking with sobs.
“Poor Jamie. What a shock.” Suzanne shook her head and pressed her hand to her mouth, looking as if she was going to cry again. “I knew he’d take it hard. And now the police are going to ask him a million questions. The poor guy.”
Lucy guessed Suzanne was right. Even though it had been an accident, the police didn’t seem to be in any hurry to depart. Thank goodness the police had taken Gloria’s body away and he didn’t have to see her like that, Lucy thought.
“Maybe we can sit with him a while?” Lucy said.
“I don’t think so. They barely allowed you in here,” Suzanne reminded her. “I think we just have to wait.”
Suzanne was right. Detective Walsh stood outside with Jamie a long
while, asking him questions and writing on a notepad.
“Gosh, this is taking a long time. What could Walsh be asking him?” Suzanne sounded annoyed.
Lucy just nodded. She felt bad for Jamie, too, and wished the police could wait until tomorrow with their questions. That’s all Jamie needed now was some dragged-out interview.
Finally, Detective Walsh was done. Jamie got up and slowly walked back into the house. Suzanne reached him first, putting her arms around his shoulders. “Jamie … I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s so horrible. So … unbelievable.”
He nodded, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe it,” he gasped. “It just can’t be …”
Lucy came up to him next and also gave him a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jamie. How can we help you?”
Jamie stepped back, his blue eyes blank and stunned. “They won’t let me see Gloria. They’re taking her to a hospital somewhere in Boston. Mass General, I think he said? I have to go there to identify the body.”
Probably a morgue where Gloria’s remains would be autopsied, in order to confirm that she drowned, Lucy guessed. Or maybe she had a heart attack and that’s why she fell in?
It was useless to speculate. They would find out the facts soon enough.
Suzanne rubbed his arm in a soothing gesture. He didn’t seem to notice. “We can drive you there.”
“That’s okay … they say I can’t see her until tomorrow…. But I can’t stay here tonight. They want to just keep looking around.” He gazed around, seeming totally disoriented. “It would be hard anyway,” he added.
Lucy swallowed. She didn’t know what to say. “You can come to my place. Suzanne is going to stay over, too. Her family is away.”
Jamie looked surprised by the suggestion and she almost thought he’d accept. Then he shook his head. “Thanks, Lucy. But I just … just need to be alone right now.”
Being alone at a time like this was probably the worst thing for him, Lucy thought. But she couldn’t argue.
“It’s still so hot out. Come into the kitchen. We’ll get you a cold drink,” Suzanne said, coaxing him.
Jamie stood up and allowed himself to be led toward the kitchen. Lucy had never seen anyone sleepwalking, but she imagined they would look a lot like Jamie did right then.
