A Finely Knit Murder Page 26

  Danny feigned resignation and lifted one long leg over the bench, squeezing in next to Cass.

  The casual, teasing exchange meant nothing—but it managed to give inordinate pleasure to Cass’s group of best friends.

  Danny leaned in, his elbows on the table. “I was in Boston the other day on business and had some free time, so I invited Bob Chadwick to a late lunch.”

  He had their attention. They all turned toward him, a huddled group of listeners.

  “Why?” Cass asked.

  “I like him. And I think he holds a key to this whole mess and doesn’t even know he has it.”

  “Go on,” Nell said.

  “I saw the dual townhomes—his and Blythe’s. It’s a shared brownstone with a home on each side. It’s a really great place in a high-end neighborhood. Bob said he took care of Blythe’s place often, since she’d be gone for weeks without checking in sometimes. They depended on each other for practical things, paying bills when the other was gone, trips to doctors when they were both there, that kind of thing. Things you’d ask a friend to do.”

  “Doctors?”

  “If one of them needed a ride or support or whatever. Which, apparently, Blythe did a few months ago—see a doctor, I mean. He was evasive about it when I asked. A little mysterious. I tried to push it, but he wasn’t going there. He said he needed time to think.

  “But I did suggest he pull together any records, bills, paperwork and bring it with him this week. He thought that was a good idea and said Ben had suggested it, too. You never know where a lead might take you.”

  “Did he know her friends? People she dated in Boston?”

  “Not many, but a few. He said Blythe’s relationships were usually short-lived, so he tried not to get involved. He seemed like he wanted to say more about that, but then changed his mind, as if somehow he was breaching a confidence or needed permission or something. But I could tell there was something needling him, something he was trying to sort out in his own mind. We’re going to have dinner tonight and I hope we can talk more about—”

  The ringing of Nell’s cell phone interrupted. It was Ben. And the fact that it was a call, not a text, made Nell think it might be important.

  “Go ahead, Aunt Nell,” Izzy said.

  Nell stepped away and listened while the others tried not to listen. But it didn’t matter because Nell said little. A comment here and there, then more listening. She frowned through most of it, then told Ben she’d get back to him and hung up.

  “Now, that’s odd,” she said, sitting down on the bench. “They can’t find Bob Chadwick. Ben wondered if any of us had heard from him.”

  “Bob’s lost?” Izzy asked.

  “Well, he didn’t show up.” Nell explained the planned meeting at the church. “Ben said there was another meeting lined up after the one at the church—they were going to go over some provisions in the will. And Bob had asked that Jerry Thompson be available.”

  “Did they check Ravenswood-by-the-Sea? Mary told me yesterday Bob was coming back for a few days. She was happy about it; she likes having him around,” Birdie said.

  “Yes, they checked. Bob had mentioned to Ben he hadn’t slept well the night before, so they figured he overslept. Mary double-checked the room because his Subaru was in the parking lot, but there was no sign of him.”

  “What about last night?”

  “Ben invited him to dinner, but he was busy. Mary saw him leave late afternoon. He told her the same thing. She offered to find something in the kitchen, but he said no. He was meeting a friend. And he was off, walking—to help him think, he said. She didn’t see him come back last night, but he had his gold Ravenswood key, so it wasn’t that unusual that no one saw him return.”

  “That’s strange,” Danny said. He thought about his conversation with Bob. “He’s a pretty dependable guy. Levelheaded. I don’t think he’d miss a meeting without a good excuse. He mentioned the will briefly to me—he’s going to donate her place here to something or other. He was looking for suggestions. I don’t think the money was important to him.”

  “Any ideas?” Izzy asked. “Do you think he just wants to escape this whole mess?”

  Danny shook his head. “No, I think he wants to solve a murder.”

  That sobered them, and the donuts went unattended as they considered Bob Chadwick.

  And his search for his cousin’s killer.

  * * *

  Izzy left soon after, needing to return to the yarn shop. She was taking Abby with her to play in the shop’s Magic Room. Daisy and Gabby would be in shortly to provide watchful eyes and caring hands in the kiddy room—and mostly dote on Abby, which was fine with her mother.

  The others talked a little longer with Danny, tugging and playing with ideas. Not being able to define exactly what they were looking for—but knowing it was there in the pile of relationships they were dissecting. Something in one of them that was devastating. Irreparable.

  “Angelo summarized it well,” Birdie said.

  “The killing?” Danny asked.

  “The reason. He said Blythe hurt someone so badly that the agony of it, the irreparable pain, killed something inside that person. And it caused him or her to kill her.”

  “I think that’s right,” Danny said. “Nothing else makes logical sense, even though I know the police have to follow all kinds of things: the will, the money, the job.”

  “Instead of the more intimate life Blythe led,” Nell said. “Feelings. Intuitions.”

  “And lots of relationships,” Cass said, speaking up for the first time. “We have a whole lineup.”

  They repeated them to Danny, hesitating slightly when his own name came up on the list.

  “Hey,” he said. “I never got far enough to get dumped. Or even to dump her.”

  “Neither did Barrett,” Nell said. “At least we don’t think so. But I think anyone she touched—or who touched her—was in danger of being hurt. And if not them, then someone close to them. I think Blythe absolutely couldn’t stand anyone taking power away from her. You’re right that you probably don’t factor in, Danny—”

  “It’s because I saved you,” Cass said.

  Danny looked at her. He frowned.

  “I kind of liked you back then. I told her I’d dump live lobsters on her platinum head if she made another move.”

  Nell and Birdie laughed out loud.

  “You didn’t,” Birdie said.

  “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” She got up from the table and picked up her bag. “Blythe needed to know she wasn’t the only powerful woman on Cape Ann. Not by a long shot.”

  Danny just shook his head, trying to hide the small smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. “Okay, then,” he said, clearing his throat. “The key is to peel away all the layers. I suppose some people might kill because they were dumped by a beautiful woman, but somehow I don’t think that’s what happened here. Frankly Blythe wasn’t all that lovable—and I would bet a lot of guys, even ones having a good time, were fine moving on when Blythe was ready to do the same.”

  “The person who seemed to have the biggest infatuation with Blythe was Teresa Pisano,” Nell said. “And she would have had nothing to gain.”

  “She wasn’t cast aside like the others, either,” Cass said. “As far as Teresa was concerned, Blythe was her best friend.”

  “Right,” Danny said. “So I think the hurt or pain or whatever she did to whoever killed her had to be a lot deeper. The murderer wasn’t just losing a girlfriend. It was something bigger, something enormous—to him or her, at least.

  “A pain so enormous it took a life.”

  Chapter 30

  A short while later, Danny left. He pulled the heavy backpack over his shoulder and brushed hair off his forehead. “I’m going to find Ben and see what’s up with Bob Chadwick. Maybe I can help find the guy.”r />
  They promised to keep one another in the loop and watched Danny walk toward his car, concern shadowing his face.

  Danny was a surprise bedfellow, but in the realm of things, it couldn’t hurt to have a mystery writer to consult with.

  Even Cass agreed. “But now I’m starving,” she said. “How about you two?”

  Nell was planning on exactly that. Cass’s appetite never failed them. “I think we need to have a chat with Liz Santos over at the yacht club. How about a sandwich on their deck?”

  * * *

  It was a nice enough day to sit on the club’s terrace, provided one had a sweater on. The hostess found them a table just outside the open French doors with a view of the sea and sailboats.

  Liz was in her office, the waitress told them, trying to straighten out some kind of mess. She’d have her stop by their table to say hello.

  Cass began drawing lines on the tabletop with the tip of her finger. She looked up from her doodling. “What pain is that big?”

  “I was thinking about the same thing,” Nell said, moving aside while the waitress set down a plate of pickles, olives, and slender bread sticks. “What could someone do to you that would make you kill them?”

  “If someone were going to hurt Gabby, or one of you,” Birdie said, “I think I’d be capable of almost anything.”

  They all sat silently, applying that to themselves, and to people they loved who might suffer at the hands of another. They’d do anything to stop it.

  Just as Barrett and Chelsey Mansfield would do for their daughter, Anna . . .

  “You are certainly a silent group.” Liz stood at their table, smiling. “Betty said you wanted to see me?”

  “We always want to see you, dear,” Birdie said. “You brighten our day.”

  The waitress returned with tea and water. They ordered the lobster rolls and salad, then turned their attention back to Liz.

  “It’s busy out there on the water. You need a traffic patrol to keep the sailboats from colliding,” Nell said. “And in here. Everywhere.” She looked across the terrace and down to the water. The well-maintained yards were filled with strollers walking along tree-shaded paths that wound all the way down to the marina, the beach, and the yacht club dock and slips.

  “It’s such a glorious time of year,” Liz said. “We’re getting the first of the leaf watchers and also the sailors trying to get in every gust of wind before the cold weather freezes them out. There’s a whole fleet going out today—it’s a parade of white.”

  “That’s all good, right?” Birdie asked, catching a worried look that passed across the manager’s face.

  Liz brought back her smile. “Yes, of course. We’re growing. That’s good. But sometimes growth brings glitches.” She looked at Nell. “We had a problem with keys to the boats this morning. Somehow the keys got messed up. We thought a set was missing; then it reappeared this morning. I’m going to call Ben and Sam and get their committee together to figure it out. Those two guys never fail me.”

  “What kind of keys?” Cass asked.

  “Keys to the sailboats. It isn’t really that big a thing. I just don’t like confusion—and it was confusing this morning. Most of the owners keep a set of keys to their boats on a big board in the equipment building down near the slips. It’s helpful in case someone calls in and needs us to check something on a boat, move it for some reason or repair something. They got messed up, that’s all. But in answer to your comment, yes, it’s really busy around here right now. Weekends are crazy. In fact, our guesthouses are completely booked for the next few weeks.”

  “That’s wonderful. Speaking of those little cottages, do you have time to sit for a few minutes?” Birdie asked. She held up her glass. “The mint tea is delicious. Have one.”

  Liz laughed and pulled out a chair. “Sure. I’m headed home from here but always have time for this group. What’s up? Don’t tell me you have need to rent a guesthouse, Birdie?”

  Birdie laughed, used to being teased about her eight-bedroom home. “Not just now. But Nell has many a question about the cottages.”

  “Two, in fact,” Nell said. “Chelsey Mansfield was telling us how nice it was when they were in the process of moving to have one of the little cottages at their disposal. And it was especially nice for Barrett when he’d come check on the remodeling.”

  “Sure. I remember that because the cottages were new and the club was trying to get the word out. I was a hostess, not a manager, back then, so I saw Barrett often,” Liz said. She was hesitant, unsure of what was coming next.

  “You also mentioned that Blythe Westerland spent a lot of time here—” Nell purposely left the comment hanging. She didn’t want to push Liz into areas she didn’t want to go.

  “Yes, Blythe has always spent time here.” She hesitated just for a minute. “And I think I probably mentioned to you about her attraction to Barrett. The police know that, too.”

  “Could you tell us exactly what happened? I don’t want to put you on the spot, but here’s why I’m asking. Blythe clearly didn’t like Barrett Mansfield. She seemed to be against anything he was for, including having his daughter in ‘her’ school, as she called it. And objecting to his choice for headmistress. I suspect it’s because Barrett refused her advances, because we know she had a problem with that and often managed to make people sorry if they made the unfortunate decision to move out of the relationship. But her grudge with Barrett seemed somehow extreme.”

  Liz looked out to sea, thinking about the comment, formulating an answer. Finally she said, “You’re right. It was more than that. Her grudge was most likely because of what happened that night—and I’m sure it was intense. The whole incident is still clear in my head. For one thing, I was the hostess, so was ultimately responsible for smoothing it out. But also because I think everyone involved felt awful about what happened. Blythe seemed almost lonely that night, and she was determined that Barrett pay attention to her. Somehow she needed affirmation. But I think in her zeal, she had a few too many glasses of champagne.

  “Barrett is always such a gentleman, but that night he had had it. When she refused to leave his table and began putting her hands on him, he said a few choice words to her, then got up to leave and go back to his guesthouse. She jumped up, but her dress caught on the table leg and she stumbled, then fell. She ended up flat on the floor, champagne covering her dress and her hair. She was a mess.

  “The bar was crowded. Everyone was staring at her. And for someone who is always perfect, it was completely, totally humiliating. Awful. I felt terrible for her.”

  “Geesh,” Cass said.

  Liz nodded. “I know. You can imagine how she felt. Barrett, being the all-time wonderful gentleman that he is, tried to help her up. He felt bad, too, though he had nothing to do with her falling. But she slapped his hand away, said something to the effect that she’d get even with him even if it took the rest of her life, and then somehow pulled herself up. We helped her clean herself up, called her a cab. And that was the end of that.”

  “And the beginning of the poor man’s struggles,” Birdie said. “No wonder she was determined to get even, even though he didn’t cause it.”

  “At least that explains her anger,” Nell said. “It makes it less mysterious. Sometimes the easiest way to get rid of embarrassment is to blame the other person. Not exactly admirable, but I suppose it’s a way to save face, if that’s the most important thing to you. And clearly it was to Blythe.”

  “It also helps me understand Barrett’s patience with her, even when she was less than cordial to him,” Birdie said. “I’m sure he regretted her humiliation.”

  “She bounced back, though,” Liz said. “The next time she came in, she looked perfectly gorgeous, every hair in place, and acted like nothing had ever happened.”

  “It’s an admirable trait, I suppose,” Birdie said.

  �
��Is there any update on finding the person who killed her? I’ve noticed the skittishness in our neighborhood. No one is jogging these days, at least not once the sun sets. It’s even getting hard to find babysitters. Moms want their kids home. Or they want to be with them—something I completely understand. Our nanny lives with us, and we consider ourselves fortunate.”

  “I think it’ll soon be behind us,” Birdie said, almost without thought.

  Nell looked at her with surprise, then realized that she felt the same way. It would be solved soon.

  “That brings me to one more question. Liz,” she said. “You mentioned that Barrett wasn’t the only man that Blythe met here at the club. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I got the feeling when we talked the other day that there was something or someone in particular you thought of mentioning, but then held back—”

  “You don’t miss much, do you, Nell?” She smiled. “Yes. She was still coming here regularly, but often it was for meetings with the mayor’s group or planning meetings for one event or another. The episode with Barrett was the last really aggressive flirting I saw Blythe do publicly—here, anyway. She didn’t really have to. Men liked her, if for no other reason than they looked better with Blythe on their arm. So recently it was more business related than anything else. In some ways she was quieting down a little.

  “But last spring I saw her here several times with a man. It wasn’t a flirtatious kind of thing. It was almost as if they were a couple, though with Blythe it was hard to tell. But they came as a couple, if you know what I mean? It was during a really busy time, but they stayed in a guesthouse here a couple times.”

  “Do you know who the man was?”

  Liz pulled her eyebrows together, trying to think back. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “That’s tough. It was a busy time with lots of people coming and going. And now that I have all these management duties, I spend more time in my office than doing the fun things, like talking to people. I suppose the reason I even noticed them was that . . . well, it was Blythe. It was always hard not to notice her. And I remember that together they made a very striking pair.”