by Anne Canadeo
Lucy found her water bottle and took a sip. “Great idea. Do you think we can get appointments? It’s after three.”
“We can try.” Suzanne took her cell phone from her tote bag.
“No messages from Amy yet?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Unfortunately. I’ll call the spa first, then check in with her.”
The tide was coming in, and the lacy white edge of the waves washed up closer and closer to their chairs. Suzanne walked away from the blanket, one hand pressing the phone to her head, the other hand pressing against her ear to block the sound of the breakers.
Maggie had moved her chair even closer to the water and was busily knitting. Dana and Phoebe had also left their shady, double-umbrella shelter while Lucy had been napping. But Phoebe soon appeared, her sun hat and glasses shading her face. The rest of her body was scantily covered by a colorful, knitted bikini, one of Phoebe’s own creations.
She carried a paper dish of thin-cut French fries and a plastic cup of soda with a straw poking out the top. She sat down next to Lucy and dipped the tip of a fry into a mound of ketchup. Then she popped it into her mouth and smiled with satisfaction.
“Want some?” she asked, offering the snack.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Lucy said. She still felt full from the brunch, and if she did have a snack it would be a lot healthier than fries and a soda. She wondered where, on Phoebe’s broomstick figure, she had room for more food today. Her friend had a faster metabolism than a hummingbird. Lucky girl.
Phoebe ate another fry then sipped her drink. “Why does salty food always taste good at the beach?”
“I’m not sure but I know what you mean.” Lucy had experienced that strange effect herself. “Where’s Dana? If she catches you eating fries and drinking soda, you’ll get a nutrition lecture. Even if we are at the beach.”
“She’s taking a walk, but she should be back soon. I’d better scarf this up. You have a good point.” Phoebe dipped another fry and gazed out at the water, looking perfectly content. “It’s so pretty here today. I wish I had my camera.”
Lucy felt bad for her. All last week, Phoebe had been talking about taking a lot of photos out here. A cell phone was convenient, but the photo quality was not the same.
“You should call Detective Dunbar and find out if they’ve finished with it. And if not, how much longer it will be,” Lucy replied.
Phoebe looked over from under her big hat. “Good idea. She scares me a little, but if I don’t nudge them they might keep it forever.”
“She is a little intimidating,” Lucy agreed.
Suzanne returned to her chair, shaded by an umbrella. “Sorry, Lucy. I struck out with the spa. They’re fully booked today, but said we should stop by and check for cancellations later.”
“At least you tried. We can stop on the way back to the cottage. If they don’t have any openings for today, we can make appointments for tomorrow.” Lucy was a little disappointed but it was only Saturday. They weren’t leaving until Monday afternoon. They’d surely find an appointment by then.
“Good plan. I also called Amy. She just got a text. The interview is over, and Rob is on his way home.”
“That’s a relief,” Lucy said. “I guess we’ll hear soon what the police asked him.”
“Personally, I’m dying to hear all the gritty details. But I don’t want to be too pushy. Amy said she’d call me tonight or tomorrow. I guess we’ll have to wait.”
“I hope this is the end of it for him.”
“I hear you, pal. Problem is, you just never know,” Suzanne said quietly.
Lucy knew that was true, but hoped it was not the case for Rob and Amy.
Dana returned from her walk, looking a little sweaty, but happy with her journey. She said she felt hot and was eager for a swim. Lucy decided to jump in the waves with her, and once they got in, Maggie joined them, too.
After the swimmers dried off, the group decided to head back to their cottage. Lucy heard many complaints and groans as they climbed back up the steps. Phoebe led the way, but Lucy still stayed at the back of the line.
“Next time, we take the lazy way out and drive,” Maggie said.
“Agreed.” Suzanne paused and took a breath. “If the cell service wasn’t so bad down here, I’d call an Uber car.”
“We’re almost at the top,” Lucy called out from the back of the line. “And I thought we were going to check out the spa on our way to the cottage? We can get some iced tea at the café there.”
“Iced tea . . . something to live for,” Suzanne replied dramatically as she started climbing again.
They soon made it to the top, and Lucy glanced over her shoulder as she headed for the cliff walk. The view was dizzying. This time she had counted the steps. More than enough for one day.
Everyone was so tired from their climb and sitting in the sun all afternoon, there was little conversation as they walked to Mermaid Manor. They entered on the terrace level, breathing grateful sighs as they stepped into the air-conditioned lobby.
“Spa appointments.” Suzanne pointed to the spa entrance, which was next to the fitness center. “Or iced tea?” She pointed to the open café across the lobby that adjoined a sunroom sitting area. “A show of hands, please.”
“Iced tea!” everyone answered unanimously.
Suzanne led the way to the café, and they ordered at the counter. Lucy read the chalkboard carefully. Even a simple glass of iced tea wasn’t so simple at Osprey Shores. There were too many to choose from—HEAVENLY HIBISCUS, POMEGRANATE-PEACH PUNCH, DOUBLE-MINT INFUSION, and GREEN TEA-HALF ORGANIC LEMONADE. The ungarnished, traditional flavor was at the bottom of the list, aptly named ICY & NAKED PEKOE.
Lucy settled on Heavenly Hibiscus and was about to order, when someone called her name. She turned to see Dr. Fielding.
He smiled. “Are you ladies coming to the support circle? We start in five minutes, out in the lounge.”
Lucy suddenly recalled he had mentioned organizing a grief support event for the community. She thought it was a nice gesture, but hadn’t given a thought to attending.
“Actually, we’re just about to check out the spa,” Maggie replied.
Dr. Fielding looked disappointed. “I see. Well . . . we’ll be there a while. I know you’re strangers here and only saw Dr. Morton in that meltdown at the poker game. But a sudden, suspicious death like this, happening in such close proximity, is still an emotional shock. I’m sure you all feel unsettled about it and may even have some questions about him. Sitting in on the circle might give you all some insights and closure.”
It sounded to Lucy as if Dr. Fielding was trying to drum up some business. She wasn’t surprised, all things considered.
Lucy glanced out at the lounge, which was filled with comfortable love seats and sitting chairs. A large circle had been set up, but there were few people to be seen. She had to admit that she did feel unsettled by the murder, and she did have questions about Dr. Morton. Was he really as awful as everyone said?
“Thanks for including us, Dr. Fielding. We’re going to have our iced tea and think about it,” Lucy replied, answering for all them.
“Of course. Whatever feels most comfortable. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. And please, call me Lewis.”
“I think it’s a great idea and will help a lot of the residents sort out their feelings about this event,” Dana said.
Dr. Fielding seemed to appreciate her compliment. But he was definitely a shy, modest man. “I try to help where I can,” he said with a small smile.
Dr. Fielding left them and headed to the lounge, but changed direction when Meredith Quinn entered the lobby. He quickly walked over to greet her. Another sales pitch for the grief circle? But Dr. Morton’s ex-wife had good reason to be here. Though Meredith looked anything but grief-stricken, or in need of this sort of support.
Meredith smiled widely, her eyes shining, as she greeted Dr. Fielding. He seemed happy to see her, too. They stood very close, talking qui
etly. Intimately, Lucy thought. She also thought she saw Dr. Fielding reach over and very quickly squeeze Meredith’s hand.
An innocent gesture. A friendly, or even comforting one.
It wasn’t as if he leaned down and planted a big, soulful kiss on her lips. But still . . . there seemed a certain energy crackling between them.
Meredith headed to the chairs, and Dr. Fielding stayed to greet Betty Rutledge. Betty barely paused to talk to him. She didn’t need a sales pitch to participate, Lucy noticed. She headed straight for the circle, her knitting tote tucked under one arm. Lucy guessed that her brother was headed back to Moody Beach by now. She wondered if Betty had asked him to come here. Lucy could think of several reasons why he wouldn’t want to participate.
Had Rob’s attorney brought Betty and her brother to the attention of Detective Dunbar today? Or did the police already know the story but didn’t consider the two suspects? The police sometimes moved slowly on such tips. But word would get around quickly if Betty was called in for questioning.
Would Betty tell the story about Julian Morton and Ted, and the campfire? She would have a captive audience. It was interesting how certain events shaped and defined a person’s life. That event had surely shaped Betty.
Lucy wondered what events had shaped her own life. A good question, but hard to answer about yourself. It was probably best answered by someone who knew you well and could see the big picture, like any one of her dear friends. She’d have to ask them sometime—after a few glasses of wine.
Lucy’s curiosity about the support circle increased with each new resident she spotted claiming a chair. Her friends had been ordering their cold drinks. Phoebe skipped the tea and ordered an ice cream soda.
There was only one counter and a few small tables in the café. Most were occupied. Dana suggested that they sit in the lounge, which was large and mostly empty except for the support group.
“We don’t need to sit near the circle. There’s plenty of space,” Dana said.
“But not too far away. I do want to eavesdrop. It could be enlightening.” Lucy ignored Dana’s look and took another sip of Heavenly Hibiscus tea. It was very good. Definitely in the celestial category on such a hot day.
“I’m curious, too,” Maggie admitted. “There are quite a few people there now. The seats are almost full.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Dr. Fielding will find a few more chairs if we want to sit in,” Lucy said.
“Do you really?” Dana asked them.
“I think it would be interesting. We might learn if Dr. Morton was the awful, self-centered person some people make him out to be. Surely he had a better side.”
“Sociopathic psychos usually don’t. Unless they’re trying to charm and lure you to some awful fate.” Phoebe fished around her drink for lumps of ice cream using a long plastic spoon. “He probably ate deep-fried kittens for breakfast.”
“Phoebe . . . honestly.” Maggie rolled her eyes and sighed.
Lucy couldn’t help laughing. “An awful image, Phoebe. But effective. With all this talk about his death and the people he’d crossed, I’m curious to know more. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to sit in on the circle. If I feel uncomfortable or bored, I’ll just slip away.”
“I’m curious, too. I think I’ll join you. I do have my knitting.” Maggie patted her tote bag.
“If you’re both going, I guess I will, too,” Dana said. “It’s good to see how other therapists conduct grief therapy for a large group.”
While Dana claimed only professional interest, Lucy knew she was itching to hear more about Morton, too.
“That leaves me and Phoebe. Just us chickens.” Suzanne gave a little cluck. “We can either take very long showers, maybe even bubble baths, or stick around to hear some good dirt. Come to think of it, maybe I should stay for Amy and Rob’s sake. I might hear something that would be helpful to them,” Suzanne decided.
“If you guys are all going, I’ll go too. All for one, one for all.” Phoebe tossed back the rest of her ice cream soda and dumped the cup in a recycle can.
“Exactly. The Black Sheep always stick together.” Lucy picked up her tote and headed for the circle.
It was hard to find five seats together, but Suzanne quickly dragged over two chairs from another part of the room and persuaded a few people to move their seats to accommodate the group. Lewis was happy to see them there and helped with the furniture rearrangement.
They were not seated far from Betty, who had already taken out her knitting. She gave them a little wave but didn’t get up to chat. Lucy was thankful for that.
Lucy noticed Meredith sitting a few chairs away, directly opposite of Dr. Fielding. Considering their warm greeting, she thought they’d be seated closer to each other. She also noticed that Meredith had saved the seat next to her with her folded sweater and purse. Lucy wondered who she was expecting. A friend, maybe, who had promised to pay their respects to Dr. Morton? This was a bit like a memorial service. So far, there had been no mention of Dr. Morton’s family holding one.
Aside from Betty, she recognized a few other members of Amy’s knitting group, though, of course, Amy wasn’t present. Derek Pullman wasn’t present, either—no surprise there—but Lucy thought she recognized one or two of the other card players.
Tanya Morton was also noticeably absent. Lucy wasn’t sure what to make of that. She had a feeling Dr. Fielding had encouraged her to come, but Tanya seemed the type who didn’t like to mingle with “the little people.” Maybe she preferred to keep her feelings about her husband’s passing to herself. Or maybe she knew there would be plenty of people, like Betty Rutledge, relating Dr. Morton’s less than stellar moments. She might feel put in a position to defend him. These days, anything she said or did would supply more grist for the Hearsay Shores gossip mill.
There was already plenty of talk about her angling for a divorce and trying to break the prenup agreement with Dr. Morton. Lucy could understand why she might skip this hour of sharing memories and feelings. She probably had few fond memories or feelings about her husband to draw upon.
Thoughts of Tanya reminded Lucy of her call to the police department and the information she’d volunteered about seeing Sam Briggs at the Morton cottage late Friday night. Lucy felt guilty, as if she’d singled out Tanya as a suspect. But the spouse was always a suspect, especially one trying to divorce a rich man who wanted his wife to walk away from the marriage empty-handed.
Compound that scenario with a muscle-bound paramour. A friendly, accommodating guy with plenty of brawn and motive to toss the cranky, tightwad husband over the edge. It was definitely a theory worth pursuing.
If Tanya was innocent and had no involvement in her husband’s death, whatever Lucy had told the police wouldn’t matter, she decided. Tanya can’t go to jail for having an affair with a handyman. If there was such a law, an astounding number of women all over New England would be wearing orange jumpsuits.
Dr. Fielding appeared and took his seat. “Welcome, everyone. I’m glad you all found time to come to this support circle. Dr. Morton’s tragic death was a shock to the whole community. No matter what your relationship or feelings about him, it’s a help to recognize and express those feelings in a safe space. A space where there’s no judgement, only acceptance and validation.
“So I ask you all now to simply listen to one another and honor each other’s experiences and feelings. And to express your own feelings with honesty and trust.” Dr. Fielding paused. “Who would like to go first?”
An older man with a fringe of grey hair and large thick glasses raised his hand. “I’m Oscar Newland, for those of you who don’t know me. I didn’t really come to talk about Morton. I know plenty of people have stories about him. I came because I’m honestly rattled. Part of the reason my wife and I chose Osprey Shores was that it looked like the safest place in the world to live. Then some guy gets pushed off a cliff. I know the police are investigating, and Morton’s killer is probably someon
e he knew. That’s what they say on the police shows. But taking a stroll on the cliff walk will never seem the same to me. Right now, I avoid it completely.” Oscar paused, and his glance swept the circle of faces. “What if it was some random psycho who wants to push people off of cliffs? Whoever killed Morton is still out there. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been double-checking our locks and windows, and our security system. I sure didn’t sleep much last night and I don’t expect to sleep very well tonight either.”
Several people in the group nodded. “I feel the same. It was an awful shock, and I’m scared silly it could happen again. I won’t dare take a walk at night,” another woman said.
Dr. Fielding nodded. “I understand. The event was shocking and fractured our sense of this community as a safe and beautiful place to live. When an event like this happens, we go into our fight or flight mode, we self-protect, without much objective thought. Dr. Morton’s death was frightening. But there’s no reason to think a serial killer is on the loose. That’s our lower brain creating some frightful disaster scenario.” He leaned forward and folded his hands together. “In time, our rational thoughts will take over because the police will find Dr. Morton’s murderer, and his death will prove to be an isolated incident.
“Bad things happen in life. Unexpected events. But I can almost guarantee this horrible crime is an anomaly. The norm of our community is serenity, beauty, and yes, safety. Have patience with yourself if you don’t feel that way. It will take time to get our bearings and see it that way again.”
Dana leaned over toward Lucy and whispered, “He’s good. Who knew?”
Lucy kept her eyes straight ahead and stifled a smile since the atmosphere seemed so somber.
“Who’d like to go next?” Dr. Fielding asked the group.
“I will.” A woman with dark red hair raised her hand. She was also a member of Amy’s knitting group, though Lucy couldn’t recall her name. She was well turned out in a silk tank top, gold bangles, and a short linen skirt. Her legs were smooth and tan, and her high-heeled sandals were stylish and uncomfortable looking. Lucy thought she was well preserved for her age, which Lucy guessed to be early fifties.
