Twillyweed
Page 22
“Not right away. Well, yes, right away. But it wasn’t like he gave them to me. He wanted to and then Patsy Mooney snatched them from him and I demanded she give them to me—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted, “she had the stones in her hand?”
“They were in a scarf. He had them wrapped up in a scarf. I don’t think she knew they were in there. I certainly didn’t. I only discovered them when I cleaned out my bag.” She looked puzzled.
“We’ve got to talk to Wendell.”
Jenny Rose made a helpless gesture. “Every time I ask him he shuts up.”
“What, like he’s frightened?”
“No. More like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Look. I know you don’t like the idea, but this goes way beyond illegal immigration, toots. This is withholding evidence in a murder investigation, and in this country they don’t take kindly to that.”
She sniffled into her hanky and pleaded, “Do you think they’ll put me in jail?”
“No, of course not,” I said but without much conviction. If no one had reason to kill Patsy Mooney, the police probably would look for the nearest illegal immigrant. They’d call her a person of interest and come up with some reason to hold her. Even one night in jail was something to be avoided at all costs. I tried to think of how I could use my ex-husband’s connections without getting him involved.
Someone tapped on the door, the dog howled, and we both jumped and grabbed hold of each other. But I knew that shadow. It was Mrs. Dellaverna. I got up and threw open the door.
“I just heard!” She barreled in holding her head. “I’m thinking, what’s gonna happen now?”
Ignoring me and simply brushing past Jake, she sat down at the table facing Jenny Rose. “You the one who found Patsy?”
“Yes.” Jenny Rose seemed very tiny and young sitting there all hunched up. Jake seemed to sense her distress and went over and sat on her feet.
“Oh, my God, what are we gonna do?!” Mrs. Dellaverna raved and the two of them started crying. Suddenly Mrs. Dellaverna reared up and squinted, gypsylike, at Jenny Rose. “It’s a kind of funny. You find the girl drowning, it’s Radiance; you find the body, it’s Patsy!”
“Wait,” Jenny Rose cried, “you think I had something to do with it?”
“I’m not looking for a wage-a-war. All I’m saying is it’s funny, that’s all.”
“Fuck you.” Jenny Rose stood in a fury.
Mrs. Dellaverna threw the dishtowel she held up over her face and ran out the door home. Jenny Rose flung herself onto the bed, sobbing. Jake circled, gargling restrained submission. I called him to me and held him tight because he and I were both trembling. Then a soft tapping at the door sent him rigid and yowling with fright. I calmed him down and went to get it. It turned out to be young Teddy. I was so relieved. He stood in the doorway, his skin all flushed and rosy, looking past me to Jenny Rose. You could tell he was crazy about her. And worried. “Come on in,” I invited. Because Jenny Rose didn’t care a fig for him, she hardly minded that he saw her in such a state.
“Look,” he said as he sat cautiously on the edge of the sofa, “I thought I’d better let you know. Patsy Mooney’s husband is on the loose.”
“Her husband?” Jenny Rose squawked. “She doesn’t have a husband! She told me!”
“Well, she does, I’m afraid. Did.” He sighed sadly. “She didn’t have an order of protection against him because he was a retired cop himself. She thought the police here would have it on file and give her away. Oliver, Paige, Mr. Piet, and myself all knew. We thought he had no idea where she was. And we have no idea how he found her. We knew he was violent. Mooney is her maiden name. She didn’t use his.”
This let Jenny Rose off the hook. “What’s his name?” I asked, more relieved than I wanted to let on.
“Woods,” he said the name with little-disguised scorn. “Donald Woods. One of those control-freak, hooplehead cops you think you’ll only read about in the paper.”
“Oh,” Jenny Rose sank back in the pillows, and cried, “that’s why she said, she said, ‘Thank God that’s over,’ about her marriage! I can hear her clear as a bell like it was yesterday! Oh, my God! I can’t believe it! Maybe if I’d left her alone in her turret she would have heard him coming up the stairs! Maybe she wouldn’t be dead! That fuckin’ thick carpet! She wouldn’t have heard a sound!”
“Now, now,” Teddy comforted her. “There’s no stopping these wife beaters. It’s no one’s fault but his. I won’t have you blaming yourself.”
I shot him a bemused look because he seemed to have affected a Ronald Colman accent. And then I remembered Mrs. Dellaverna telling me about her friend hiding out at her place. Some shit of a husband who’d beat her up good … I said, “So they’re sure it was him?”
“It certainly looks like it. He was seen at the deli, asking around. We know he’d been arrested before for smashing her up. A real violent guy.” He shook his head, grimacing. “I’d give a pretty penny to know how he found out she was here.”
Jenny Rose sat up. Her expression turned suspicious. “And how he knew she was in the basement. You know, I knew someone was watching the house. I felt it!” She shivered.
I remembered last night and Jake flipping out. Had the fellow come looking for her at the cottage? “Where do they think he’s gone?” I asked cautiously.
Teddy raked his hair. “That’s just it. He was seen coming into town but no one saw him leaving. He might well still be here.”
“Shit,” I said.
“So I want you both to lock your doors and windows.”
“Well, he’s not after us.” Jenny Rose quaked in her blanket.
“No, but he might be looking for a place to hide out for a while. You don’t know. He could be in someone’s garage or—”
“Or break into someone’s home and hold them captive till the coast is clear!” Jenny Rose finished for him.
“I’m afraid so.”
I’d brought Jake to Sea Cliff at just the right time. I thought of that poor, demented Daniel on his own. He would be easy prey for a man like that. Obviously, someone like him would never think to lock his doors.
Teddy’s blue eyes moved around the cottage, taking it all in for the first time. “I love your curtains,” he said, trying to lighten things up.
“Amazing what you can do with a little strong detergent and a hot iron,” I said, glad he was here. I was sure he’d be happy to look after Jenny Rose while I did some investigating on my own. I lured Jake up onto the bed—he knew any bed was typically off-limits—to keep him happy and left the two kids with a fresh pot of coffee and some Ikea cinnamon buns.
I almost asked Teddy if I might borrow his station wagon but decided against it. Morgan would have my car back to me shortly and it wouldn’t hurt me to pedal up and down these steep hills, quiet and swift. I went out to the shed, opening the creaky door with care in case Patsy’s murderer lurked inside, and lugged out the bicycle. It was rusty but it seemed to work all right. I was grateful to Morgan. Morgan. His words came back to me and echoed in my brain. I almost strangled him, he’d confessed about the seminarian that’d molested an altar boy. I was only halfway down the path into town when my cell phone rang. I bumped onto the side of the road and opened it.
“Auntie Claire?”
“Jenny Rose. What’s up?”
“Remember I told you Wendell acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about when I asked him about the stones?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I got to thinking. Maybe he really didn’t know about the stones.”
“What do you mean? You told me you got them from him.”
“That’s just it. I assumed he was frightened about having the stones. But when I asked him about the scarf, remember I told you he was completely forthright about answering? Maybe th
e stones weren’t wrapped up in the scarf at all. Perhaps they were already in my pocket.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe I swept them from Patsy when I grabbed the scarf from her.”
We were both silent, digesting this possibility. “Or,” I suggested, “maybe Patsy put them there. Or anybody. Put Teddy on the phone.”
“He had to go.”
“What? I thought he’d stay with you!”
“No, he had to open a house up on Dosoris Lane for Paige. The police are still questioning her and there’s a couple waiting there to see a house. And Mr. Piet is still waiting to be questioned and no one’s heard from Radiance. Teddy’s going to stop off at her apartment over Gallagher’s and check on her.”
“Well, I certainly don’t want you there alone. We’d better meet.”
“Where?”
“Twillyweed.”
“Okay. I’ll come to you.”
“I’ve got to make a stop or two, first. Then we can talk. Just get there quickly. And, Jenny Rose, stay there! Just answer any questions they have truthfully. Really, this changes everything.”
“All right,” she agreed and she sounded relieved. Little did I know she had her own plans for getting some answers by heading into town.
Meanwhile I bicycled down to the beach and Daniel’s house, dead on the water. It was shabby, but you could see how all the real estate agents in town would give their eyeteeth to get their hands on it. It had charm—or it would have with a lot of money thrown in. It was one of those small cottages with a low-hanging roof that resembles a thatch. I tapped on the back door. There was no sound from within. I knocked again and the door just moved open. All right, I pushed it. The kitchen was outdated in the style of the ’70s and it was damp. A fly battered itself against one of the windows, buzzing. There was an unopened package of baking soda on the table, some toothpaste, and a cylinder of Comet, like someone had gone to the store and left some things for him. “Daniel?” I called, mentally cursing myself for not telling Jenny Rose, or someone, where I’d gone. I looked out the window into the yard. A decrepit lawnmower stood leaning, suspended, in the half-finished yard. I peeked through to the next room. It was a sort of bedroom–living room, the bed covered neatly with a yellowed chenille spread, a permanent sagging dip in the middle where he must sleep. A toy lay upside down on the rug on the floor: a doll, half covered with a blanky, her arm reaching out. I resisted the urge to go in there. This was a strange and complicated place, but it wasn’t degenerate. It was like an empty kindergarten classroom, fizzing with energy that’s gone away, vivacious colored boxes on top shelves and viruses and moving orbs of dust in sun shafts from dirty windows. On the kitchen table beside me I noticed a list of grocery items. Something about it looked familiar to me and I skulked closer to peer at it. It was Jenny Rose’s and my list of suspects! A thrill of fear ran through me. How in hell had that got here? Steadying my heart, I tiptoed in and picked it up and put it into my pocket. Frightened now that someone was watching me, I slipped out the door. Jenny Rose certainly hadn’t been here. Had she? Paige? I wouldn’t put it past her to go through Jenny Rose’s things. Feeling safer in the light of day, I reread the list. My eye fell to the name Mrs. Lassiter, the woman who worked at the rectory. The snoop in me wouldn’t mind checking her out. I got back on my bike, and as I pedaled away I heard the unmistakable clatter of a lawnmower resuming its course. Evidently I frightened old Daniel as much as he’d frightened me.
St. Greta’s Rectory was a beautiful place with a mature copper beech, a profusion of birds, and a lovely, well-tended garden. I rang the bell, but it seemed to be out of order. I clopped on the heavy wood.
A bad-tempered lady threw open the door. “I heard you the first time, so!”
She was a skinny, busy lady with a whirl of graying ginger hair, a snub nose, a giant bust, and a mass of freckles all over her arms and face. Her teeth were spaced apart and separate. “Mrs. Lassiter?” I asked meekly.
“What is it?”
“I’m Jenny Rose Cashin’s aunt. My name is Claire Breslinsky. I’ve come to tell you—”
“Claire? You’ll be Claire, Mary Cashin’s middle girl?”
I was startled. “Yes,” I admitted unsurely.
“You’re the very likeness of her!”
“You know my mother?”
“Know her? I wouldn’t have come to this country were it not for her!”
I was so thrown off my kilter I just stood there while we gaped at each other. I don’t know which upset me more—that she knew my mother or that I looked just like her. My mother was old. She was plump. I was … I was …
She mopped her strong farmers’ daughter’s hands on her apron and herded me in, saying, “Come in, come in. No sense standing here in the vestibule looking like a pie hit you full in the face!”
I blessed myself from the holy water font and followed her through the cool, timbered archways, over the scrubbed and walnut-oiled tiles, and under a series of handsome naval prints. There would be no doubt a County Cork widow was in residence here. The place shone.
She led me into a white kitchen, fitted out in unfashionable but sturdy oak cabinets, and sat me at the checkered oilcloth. In the tiny window a cactus bloomed an orange wart.
“There now,” she said, releasing a happy, eager sigh, and I realized I might be in for a long one. With easy movements she had the teapot up to boil and soda bread whisked from the box, transported butter and jam from the fridge, then carefully sliced a wedge of soda bread and placed it reverently on a doily before me.
“I’m not sure my mother mentioned you were here,” I declared cautiously. Had she told me about this woman while I hadn’t listened?
Her face fell. “Did she not?”
“But,” I hurried to say, “wait a minute, I do remember now! She told me to tell you she was polycoating Jenny Rose’s picture in the paper and sending copies off to Skibbereen! That was it. I’m sorry, I forget everything these days. You understand. It’s quite an event for us, having Jenny Rose here in the States.” I gave up with a heaving breath. “What I mean is, it’s not because of her that I’m here.”
Suspicious, she looked at me, her freckled face closed and leaning to one side.
“I’m afraid I’ve come with bad news,” I went on.
“Your mother!”
“No, it’s none of us. It’s Patsy Mooney from up at Twillyweed.”
Mrs. Lassiter clutched her heart. “Patsy? My Patsy?”
“I’m afraid she’s dead.”
She turned red and began to make a strange noise in her throat. I looked around for something stronger than tea. I thought she might be having a stroke, or was choking on something, the way she sat there gurgling and sputtering.
“Mrs. Lassiter, is there someone I can call? Is Father in the rectory?”
She gasped, “He’s having a pre-Cana.”
“Would you like me to call him?”
Chalk faced, she shook her head then demanded, “How did she die?”
“I’m afraid it was murder.”
“Murder?” She stood up and sat down, covered her mouth with her hand. “He got her? Donald, that blaggard, he finally got her?”
“They think so.”
She sucked in her breath. “She always said he would! She always said he’d find her one day like he promised and kill her!”
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sherry. Under the sink. Hurry.”
I went right to it and poured her a water glass full. It smelled like something stronger than sherry. “Sláinte,” she gasped and drank it straight down. It didn’t seem to hurt her. She began to cry. “How did he do it?”
I looked around uncomfortably. “He strangled her.”
“Ahh!” She fell again into sobs, her large shoulders heaving up and down.
“So you were best friends with Patsy Mooney, then.”
“Oh, aye. Grand friends.” She peered up toward the little window and shook her head. “Best friends when it comes to that. We’re bingo partners. We’ve been to every jewelry show at the Coliseum. And every fortnight we sit together on the bus to Atlantic City. It leaves from the mall parking lot over at the Americana Mall. She always wins, let me tell you. Patsy can play anything—poker, all of it. Not just the slots like me. I don’t know who I’ll go with now!” She looked at me with refreshed shock as the atrocity hit her again. “What about all of our plans?” she wailed. “We have so many wonderful plans!”
I let her calm down. “I guess going down there you’d have plenty of time to talk. She must have told you all about her troubles with … Donald, is it?”
“Oh, yes. She tells me all about it,” she sniffled, still referring to her in the present tense. “I know the whole story, so.” She cut into yet another slice of soda bread and pushed it on me. “That’s why I have to drive us to the mall parking lot. She won’t drive. She thinks if she renews her license, he’ll find her, like, what with all his friends on the job. And he did, didn’t he? Just like she said!” She burst into fresh sobs. “That’s how sly he is. Oh, he’s mean. How many times did he beat her up! Kicked her down the stairs when she tried to leave him!”
“I guess you’re not surprised to hear the tragic news, then.”
She held her arms and her head went down. “It fair breaks my heart.” She looked up with sudden clarity. “But I have to say I am surprised. Shocked, more like. It’s been some years—so long for him to hold a grudge, isn’t it? You’d think he’d have found someone else to torture by now.” She shook her head and snuffled into her tissue. “We’re good friends, me and Patsy. I always make her laugh.”