by B. T. Lord
Bitsy, who missed seeing Doc’s facial expression, put a well-manicured finger up to her lip as she carefully thought about Cammie’s question. “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Now that Lily was married and living her own life, I’m sure Helen felt it was her time now to live whatever type of life she wanted.”
“Do you happen to have the name of the charity Tom started?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. But I’m sure you can find it on the internet. You can find everything on the internet these days, can’t you?” She gave Cammie a mischievous smile. “I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity.”
Cammie laughed. “Yes, you did.”
“I think I would have made an excellent investigator,” she replied. “There’s something about delving into people’s lives, finding out what makes them tick, their motivations, the endless ways they can make their own lives miserable.” She laughed. “Then again, that’s just being a busybody, isn’t it?”
Doc raised his eyebrow at Cammie. “There is a fine line,” he replied before turning his attention back to Bitsy. They stood up and he took her hands to say good-bye. Instead, she held onto him tightly and looked into his eyes.
“Your mother called me. She wants so much to have you come to dinner tonight.” Doc said nothing. “If you think it will be easier, I’ll come too. Your father usually behaves himself when I’m around.”
To Cammie’s surprise, he suddenly leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You are a wonderful woman, Bitsy.”
Bitsy blushed, obviously pleased with his compliment. “Then shall I call her and tell her we’ll all be there tonight?”
“Of course,” Doc responded.
When they got back out onto the street, Doc looked Cammie up and down. “Did you bring anything other than jeans?”
She looked down at herself. “Well, these are chinos, so they’re not technically jeans.”
He snapped his fingers. “Come on, we’re going shopping. Newbury Street is just around the corner. Since we’re off to the slaughter tonight, we might as well look good as we’re being drawn and quartered.”
He grabbed her arm and began to pull her down the street. “But Newbury Street is so overpriced!” she complained.
“It will be my gift for putting up with my father tonight.” He glanced at her again. “As for your hair…” He shook his head mournfully. “Hopefully he won’t notice it. Too much. Perhaps we can find a stylish kerchief to tie around it.”
She rolled her eyes. Twin Ponds was looking better and better.
Cammie had never been much of a shopper. Always bound by the smallness of her bank account, she preferred to get in and get out. Even now, with $500,000 to her name, she still wasn’t much of a shopper. However shopping with Doc was an experience all by itself.
Doc was known to slip into lingerie and bunny slippers after a day catering to patients or conducting autopsies in the lab in the basement of his luxury cabin that the locals had taken to calling the Crypt. If there was anyone who knew anything about women’s fashions, it was Doc.
They walked up and down the very fashionable Newbury Street, entering many of their pricey boutiques. Doc had an eye for color and he knew exactly what looked best on Cammie. Everything he had her try on, she had to admit, looked fabulous. She’d lost all the weight she’d gained living with Doc while recovering from her gunshot wound and each outfit she modeled for him accentuated her lithe 5 ft. 8 inch figure.
By the time they were done, she was in possession of a beautiful gold burnished dress that highlighted her auburn hair and sexy curves. They completed the outfit with a pair of low black heels and shimmery black stockings. He’d also insisted on buying her a flattering lavender colored cashmere sweater to offset a pair of skinny black jeans he told her she simply must have. Never one to hesitate in indulging himself, he bought exquisitely embroidered items of lingerie, as well as sweaters and corduroys to wear while seeing patients.
As grateful as she was for his fashion expertise, she did put her foot down when he suggested she wear a strand of pearls with her new dress.
“Haven’t you noticed that all the women we’ve spoken to look alike?” Cammie puffed as she juggled all their bags while walking towards the Navigator. “They all have that blonde pageboy haircut and they all wear pearls. It’s like talking to the Stepford wives.”
“Well, high society isn’t all that big.”
“If you think you’re going to turn me into one of those ladies, complete with the strand of pearls and a stiff smile plastered on my face, you’re nuts.”
To her surprise, Doc laughed. “You’re right. I’d never change you, Cammie. You are a wonderful woman, warts and all.”
She didn’t know if there was an insult in there somewhere. Later though, when she stood in front of the mirror back in Horatio’s apartment, dressed in her new dress, shoes and stockings, she had to admit, she looked pretty good. Turning this way and that, she felt a slight ache when she imagined Jace’s reaction to seeing her in such a beautiful outfit. Knowing him, it wouldn’t stay on her very long. She smiled warmly at the thought.
While Doc was getting ready, she sat on the balcony overlooking the harbor. It was just growing dark and the city lights were already twinkling across the water in East Boston. The breeze was warm and refreshing and she took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Taking out her cell phone, she called Emmy. “How’s life up in Twin Ponds?” She asked when she heard Emmy answer.
“Oh Sheriff, when are you coming back? It isn’t the same without you here.”
Emmy Madachuck was the Twin Ponds Sheriff Department’s dispatcher/receptionist. At just twenty-two years old, she was responsible, reliable and intensely loyal to both Cammie and her deputy Rick Belleveau. Cammie knew she couldn’t do her job without her.
After almost losing Emmy recently in a bizarre set of murders, Cammie had wondered if the young woman would quit and seek a quieter way of making a living. She couldn’t blame her if she had and she carefully watched for any telltale signs of lingering trauma Emmy might be experiencing. To her credit, Emmy refused to leave the Sheriff’s Department and seemed to bounce back from a harrowing incident that would have deeply affected anyone else. She was obviously made of sterner stuff and Cammie’s admiration, pride and affection for Emmy grew deeper. She felt a pang in her heart as she realized how much she missed Emmy and Rick, wanting nothing more than to be back with them in her office, sharing coffee, cookies and town gossip.
“I’m hoping to be back in a few more days. We still have the funeral to get through.”
“How is Doc holding up?”
“He’s had his moments, but on the whole, he’s doing better than I expected.”
“Have you found out anything on who might have killed Doc’s aunt?”
Cammie smiled. “Now you know I’m not here in any official capacity.”
“No offense Sheriff, but you not asking questions is like me not baking or knitting. It just can’t be done.” Both women laughed.
“Okay, you got me there. As a matter of fact, the reason I’m calling is that I was hoping you could do some research for me when you get into the office tomorrow.”
Unknown to most inhabitants of Twin Ponds, Emmy was an accomplished hacker. If there was anyone who could find out anything on Tom, it would be her.
“Sure, no problem.”
“See what you can find on a man named Thomas Hightower. He started a charity down in the Amazon rainforest within at least the last fifteen years. I’m sorry I don’t have the name of the charity. Last year, he went missing in the jungle down there. Can you also find out whatever you can on a man named Charles Evans? He died in a boating accident out near the Farallon Islands in California last month.”
“Wow. What weird ways to die. Is Doc’s family under some kind of curse or something?”
“I think the curse is called ‘tempting fate one too many times’. If you find anything, send me a text and I’ll call you bac
k as soon as I’m able.”
“Do you think they had anything to do with Mrs. Carsgrove’s death?”
“I doubt it since both were already dead by the time Helen was murdered. But I’d like all the bases covered, just in case.”
“What’s Doc’s family like?”
Cammie paused. “Now I understand why Doc is as ornery as he is.”
She heard Emmy giggle at the other end. They said their goodbyes and she hung up just as Doc opened the slider door and came out onto the balcony. In his hand, he held two glasses of wine. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and a black and silver tie.
“You look very spiffy,” Cammie smiled as he handed her one of the glasses.
“And you look very civilized. You ought to wear dresses more often.”
“At the next Twin Ponds cotillion, I’ll be sure to wear one.”
“Smart ass.”
“Aren’t we starting the drinking a little early?”
“I need something to fortify myself with.” He lifted his glass to her. “Let us eat, drink and be merry for in a few hours, we die!”
“Have you never heard of negative energy attracting more negative energy?” she teased as she watched him down the wine in one gulp.
“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out what negative energy truly is.”
CHAPTER NINE
When Cammie was growing up, she and her mother adored watching the British costume dramas on the PBS stations. They loved watching Upstairs, Downstairs, The Forsythe Saga and anything by Jane Austen. Now she reprimanded herself for not paying more attention to the dining room scenes. She had an array of silverware in front of her that she had no idea what to do with. Nor was there an instruction manual shoved under her plate, though she did look just in case. She always thought a simple knife and fork would do the job, but apparently up on Beacon Hill, they needed several knives and forks to eat their meals with.
Already feeling a bit befuddled, she was also constantly jumping whenever the maid silently came up behind her to serve. She was terrified of spilling something on the delicate linen napkin and the maid’s silent maneuvers weren’t helping any.
Trying not to look like a complete idiot, she had no choice but to watch Doc and imitate him whenever he picked up one of the utensils. Her observations were hampered by the fact that he was seated across from her so whatever he did, she had to do it in reverse on her side of the table.
Looking down at the several knives next to her porcelain plate, she wondered which one could cut through the tension that was so thick, it threatened to suffocate her.
She and Doc were seated at the end of the ornately carved, rectangular shaped oak table. Next to Doc was his mother, while Bitsy sat next to Cammie. Seated next to them at the head of the table was Mr. Westerfield. At first, the conversation was light, focusing on the family’s plans for their upcoming August vacations. Each time Cammie glanced at the old man under her lashes, she was struck by the perpetual scowl on his face. Even talking about something as enjoyable as sailing with the wind at your back failed to bring a smile to his face. It was as though lightheartedness was banished from his make-up.
Trying her best not to succumb to the negativity oozing from his end of the table, she half listened to their conversation about yachting and elaborate lawn parties while daydreaming about making love with Jace under the stars. Once it got warmer. And once black fly season ended. But after black fly season ended, mosquito season began. And sometimes those mosquitoes were the size of a tank.
Damn it. I can’t even think about sex without this tension messing up my happy thoughts.
It was then she caught Westerfield and Doc staring at her, not realizing she had a sappy grin plastered on her face as she thought about a naked Jace. Between their strain and disapproving gazes, she cleared her throat and resumed paying attention to the dinner conversation. Heaven forbid someone should be happy at this table while the War of Scowls was underway. Yet, perhaps because they were accustomed to it, Shirley and Bitsy babbled on, oblivious to the underlying friction strumming around the dining room.
“How did you ever get into law enforcement, Ms. Farnsworth?” Shirley asked, when the vacation topic died out.
Cammie quickly considered how best to answer the question. The truth was that she’d sworn never to be a victim again. But one look around the table and she knew that was definitely not the right thing to say. It had too much emotion attached to it and, as she’d come to see, emotion was a four letter word in the Westerfield household. Scanning her brain quickly for an appropriate response, she finally said, “I was living in Seattle and trying to find a job. I saw an ad for the police academy and decided to apply. They accepted me and the rest is history.”
Whew. Short, sweet and to the point.
“And how did you end up in Twin Ponds?”
“I was born and raised there, actually.”
“There’s no place quite like home,” Bitsy piped up.
“No, there isn’t,” Cammie agreed quietly.
“We went to see Abby,” Doc replied, noting Cammie’s discomfort at being the center of attention. “She has two gallery shows coming up.”
“You call that art?” Westerfield spoke up, his voice shattering the pleasant air the women had tried to create. “It’s simply blots of paint on a canvas.”
“Actually, her art has grown,” Doc replied, ignoring his father’s sharp tone. “Rather than imitating Pollack’s splashes of color on canvas, she’s creating moody pieces that actually cause an emotional reaction. I was quite surprised and taken by her artistic evolution.”
Westerfield rolled his eyes. Before the old man could speak, Shirley broke in. “I’ll have to call her and see when her shows are.”
“Will you be going?” Westerfield asked icily.
“I think it’s important that her family be there to support her,” Shirley spoke up, either ignoring or accustomed to his harshly judgmental tone.
He harrumphed, but remained silent.
“If you don’t mind, I need to use the ladies room,” Bitsy announced as she stood up. Looking at Cammie, she smiled. “I’ve always had a bit of a princess bladder.”
After leaving the room, Westerfield lifted his grey eyes and looked at Cammie.
“Have you heard anything more about this person of interest the police up in Maine mentioned, Ms. Farnsworth?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“They seem to be taking forever to arrest that man who was suing my sister.”
“Investigations are not usually so cut and dried,” Cammie tried to explain. “I’m sure when and if they make an arrest, it will be because the evidence is there to support the arrest.”
“I hope you still aren’t considering the ridiculous possibility that one of us committed this terrible crime.”
“I have no opinion one way or the other.”
“Oh that’s right,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not here on an official basis.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Doc interjected quickly, his icy tone matching his father’s.
“For someone who is not here in an official capacity, she is acting as though she is actively investigating this murder. At least Lily thought so. She phoned and told me how she felt as though she were being interrogated in her own home. Really, Samuel. After everything she’s been through…”
Hoping to avoid an explosion, Cammie quickly asked, “I’m not investigating the murder, but I am curious about one thing. We found a letter addressed to Helen from a man named Rob. Do you know who that is?”
For a moment, she detected a look of surprise, then distaste quickly cross Westerfield’s features, before disappearing behind the scowl.
He knows who Rob is.
Her suspicions were confirmed when he bypassed her question and continued his conversation regarding Lily.
“I’m afraid she was quite upset by your visit. It’s bad enough that her mother was murdere
d in such a despicable manner, but on the heels of losing Charles, to have you two bombard her with distasteful questions-”
“We did not bombard her,” Doc responded defensively. “Lily has and always will be a drama queen. Whatever we spoke about came up in the course of a friendly conversation.”
“I thought you were going over there to discuss the funeral.”
“We did.” Westerfield opened his mouth to continue his tirade when Doc added, with a vengeful twinkle in his eye, “You’ll be happy to know she’s decided to cremate Helen.”
Shirley and Westerfield sucked in their breath.
“That’s—that’s not how we do things in this family!” Westerfield thundered, repeating Doc’s words almost verbatim. “I absolutely forbid it. No one has been or ever will be cremated in this family. She will be buried, as is customary, in the family vault in Cambridge.”
Doc shrugged. “You’ll need to bring that up with her. She’s quite made up her mind. The only sticking point now is whether to spread her ashes on the Cape or in Maine.”
Westerfield sputtered as Shirley tried her best to diffuse the escalating emotions. “Don’t upset yourself, dear. I’m sure you’ll be able to make Lily see reason. Ever since Freddy died, she looks to you as her surrogate father. Now, did you hear that Marion is considering giving up her seat on the Symphony’s Board? That would be a shame. She’s been such an asset to them over the years.”
Things calmed down and the conversation turned to Marion. Cammie noticed how quickly Westerfield overcame his boorish behavior from a few moments before. Now he was engaged in reiterating Marion’s wonderful attributes
Amazed by his abrupt about face, Cammie finished her glass of wine and found she too had to use the bathroom. She wondered if she could hold it, but afraid the fireworks were only postponed, she thought she’d better go while peace reigned.
“Can you tell me where the ladies room is?” she asked as she stood up.
