Angora Alibi (4 page)

Izzy frowned. “Party girl?”

“Well, not now that she’s pregnant, I suppose. But he used to see her at the Gull
Tavern when the band was playing there a couple months ago. Her husband was traveling,
Europe or somewhere, and Pete said she was probably bored, being alone in that huge
house.”

They watched Tamara as she walked over to the bar and stood beside her husband. Her
platinum hair was pulled straight back, reflecting the lights from above. Mrs. Franklin
Danvers was every inch the glamorous executive wife tonight, not looking much like
someone who partied at the Gull. She was put together perfectly, almost too perfectly,
as if pulling one thread would cause her to unravel like a poorly knit sweater.

“She probably was lonely with him gone,” Nell said. “Even when he’s home, he works
long hours, though I suspect a baby will keep him home more often.”

Izzy nodded. “Tamara comes into the shop often for that very reason. She doesn’t like
to be alone. There’s always a group in the back room and she likes sitting around
talking to them. But it’s funny, after she leaves, I realize I don’t know her, not
really.”

“You’re never sure what’s really there, right?” Cass said.

“Something like that. Although sometimes she comes out with really personal things.
Like a couple months ago—it was before she was pregnant—she told a whole group that
before she got married, she had a checkup to make sure she could have a baby. Franklin
suggested it, she said.”

Nell lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s
very
personal.”

“And weird,” Cass said.

“Well, maybe not,” Nell said. “If it was important to both of them, maybe it was wise.”

But it was definitely an odd thing to share with people you didn’t know well. Tamara
was Franklin’s third wife—and the first two marriages had obviously not produced a
baby. Perhaps that fact played into the decision. Nell looked back across the room.

Tamara was laughing at something her husband said, one hand resting on the sleeve
of his Italian suit.

He’s mine,
her posture seemed to say.

When Franklin turned his attention to the businessmen and more serious talk, her eyes
wandered around the room, to the tables of jewelry, the well-dressed couples, then
back to the bar, where Tyler Gibson was disengaging himself from a bevy of beauties.
His eyes caught hers, and he paused briefly, his smiling look traveling over Tamara
like a beam of light.

His attention seemed to startle Tamara, as if she’d been caught looking when she shouldn’t
have been, and she quickly turned away.

The bartender looked surprised at the rebuff, then shrugged it off and walked the
length of the bar to where Justin Dorsey stood waiting, a bag of ice in his hands.

Justin nodded toward Tamara with a grin, apparently noticing the brush-off. Tyler
laughed and took the ice, shrugging off Justin’s teasing.

A minute later the mayor approached the Danvers group, and together they moved out
to the veranda, where more appetizers and music filled the sea air.

“Have you seen Justin?” Janie asked, coming up to the group. The worry lines across
her forehead had returned.

“He’s working.” Izzy pointed toward the bar. Justin held the ice lid open while Tyler
dumped it in.

“It looks to me like he’s making himself useful,” Cass added.

Janie’s smile returned. “Good. Which I guess I should be doing, too. I promised Willow
and Laura I’d keep an eye on the auction items.” She hurried off, waving to Justin
as she disappeared into the crowd.

The evening passed quickly as plates were cleared and more desserts made the rounds.
Willow, Janie, and Laura wandered through the crowd, encouraging bidding and making
sure food and drink were plentiful. Justin and the other valets set up extra tables
in the entry hall for checkout, and boxes and bags were discreetly piled up behind
them to carry off winning items.

Finally Laura brought the bidding to a close, and the volunteer staff moved quickly,
collecting bid sheets, circling the winners.

Laura motioned for the bevy of volunteers to stand behind the tables where people
would bring their receipts and claim the portable items.

“Do you need help?” Nell asked.

“I think we’re fine,” Willow said. “Laura could organize a roomful of toddlers. She’s
amazing. And Kevin and Tyler will stick around after the bar closes and help the other
guys handle any of the heavy stuff. They’ve all been taking turns patrolling the tables,
too, keeping an eye on things.”

Laura laughed. “Our very own muscle men.” She turned to Willow. “Time to read off
the top item winners. Want to do the honors?”

Squeals and cheers greeted the generous winning bids as people stepped up to claim
their winning sailing adventures and vacation homes. When Willow read Franklin Danvers’
name as the highest bidder on the last item—the diamond, sapphire, and ruby heart
necklace—Tamara leaned over and kissed him fully. The crowd cheered, and the organizers
declared the evening a wild success.

As people headed to the entry hall to claim their items, Nell looked around for Birdie
and Ben.

Birdie waved from a table where she was claiming a cartload of items. “Ben is loading
his art winnings into the car.”

Nell laughed. “All we need is a few more walls in our house.”

“They’re all Canary Cove artists. Ben couldn’t resist.”

He appeared then, taking Birdie’s box and motioning toward the entryway. “If Izzy
has to stand for one more minute, I think she’ll have that baby in the middle of the
community center. She’s drained.”

He nodded toward the jewelry table where Izzy and Sam stood talking quietly to Laura
and Willow. Behind them, Janie Levin, along with several other volunteers, huddled
together, listening intently to what Laura was saying.

“Something’s wrong,” Nell said as they made their way toward the group.

On the table was the black velvet stand that once held the sapphire and ruby diamond
necklace.

“It’s gone,” Laura mouthed, meeting Birdie’s eyes.

Nell turned and looked at her.

Birdie’s hand went to her throat. “Gone? As in . . . ”

Laura nodded.

“Oh, my,” she said, and moved to Laura’s side.

“Tamara or Franklin didn’t claim it?” Nell asked.

Willow shook her head. Her eyes were moist.

Nell watched Birdie’s face, composed and in charge, as if it were her job now to calm
the event organizers. Suddenly she remembered why the necklace looked familiar. She’d
seen it before—in Birdie’s den, when they were looking for some papers in the safe
behind Sonny Favazza’s portrait. “It was your necklace, wasn’t it?” she said quietly.

Before Birdie could answer, Laura spoke up, her voice choked. “Birdie, I’m so sorry.
I don’t know how this could have happened. The volunteers were watching the tables
all night.” Her face was the color of her snowy white Versace dress.

Birdie waved away the concern. “No worry. It isn’t really a problem—except maybe for
your uncle Franklin’s wife. Tamara was determined to get that necklace.” She looked
beyond Laura to the bar, where Tamara Danvers stood chatting with Ty Gibson and Kevin
Sullivan, oblivious of the drama unfolding behind her.

“I’m calling the police—”

“No, dear, you won’t.” Birdie placed one blue-veined hand on Laura’s arm. Her voice
allowed no room for arguing. “Perhaps it was misplaced. But either way, the jewelry
is insured. Besides, my mother always said that when one lost something to theft—if
that’s what this was—the thief most likely needed it more than you do. And in the
best of worlds, one would find that person and give her something to go with it.”

“So we should find a bracelet to match?” Izzy asked.

Birdie chuckled. “That would definitely be the answer. But I doubt if such a thing
exists. So instead, we’ll forgive and forget. As I’m sure dear Carl would have done.”

“Carl?” Cass asked.

“My second husband. He gave it to me. He was fond of such weighty and expensive embellishments,
even though I wouldn’t have been able to stand up if I had tried to wear any of them.
Somehow he thought bigger and brighter and more expensive was always a good thing.”
She smiled brightly. “Now, let’s not ruin a wonderful party over a necklace that I
never liked. There’s no need to talk about this with anyone.”

She glanced across the room again, and then looked sadly at Laura. “Except perhaps
with Tamara and Franklin Danvers. And I suspect you are the best person to handle
that, my dear.”

“F
ranklin Danvers was gracious about the whole messy incident Saturday night,” Birdie
said. She sat on the patio at Coffee’s—Harbor Road’s always crowded coffeehouse. Her
small hands cradled a steaming cup of dark roast.

A blue sky and Coffee’s dark roast. Certainly a good way to begin another week, in
Birdie’s opinion. All was right with the world.

Across from her, Nell and Ben listened with interest to the happenings since Saturday
night when Birdie’s necklace went missing. Laura and Elliot Danvers had taken her
to Sunday brunch and filled her in on all the details.

“Franklin honored his bid—even though he didn’t get the necklace. He assured Tamara
he’d find something equally as beautiful for her. On my end, I’ll funnel the insurance
payment back to the community center fund, so nothing is lost, everyone wins nicely.”

“Even the thief,” Ben said.

Birdie laughed. “Yes, even the thief. Although whoever that may be is doomed to having
a sore neck should he or she ever try to wear it.

“Franklin Danvers was adamant Laura and Willow call the police, but Laura held her
ground, as I’d asked. Not an easy task, standing up to that man.” Birdie tossed a
crumb of croissant to a waiting gull.

“It would have been a shame to end that lovely evening with flashing blue lights,”
Nell said.

“On the other hand, Franklin’s right—someone committed a crime,” Ben said.

“I suppose,” Birdie said. “And I believe people should accept the consequences of
their actions. But last night simply didn’t seem the time or place. And perhaps the
person truly was needy. How do fines and jail time help such an individual?”

Ben covered Birdie’s hand, his large one causing hers to disappear. “Just one reason
why we love you, Birdie. But what if the guy is buying drugs with money he makes off
the jewels? We don’t know that, now, do we?”

Birdie shushed him and suggested he forget he once had gone to law school.

“Does Laura have any idea who might have done it?” Nell asked.

“Not really, and she was reluctant to guess. There were hundreds of guests, lots of
college kids helping out, people in the kitchen, catering, bartenders.”

Nell thought over the evening. The tables were always crowded—so crowded it wouldn’t
have been too difficult to sweep the necklace off into a pocket. “It happened late
in the evening or someone would have noticed the piece missing earlier.”

Ben nodded. “It was a valuable necklace.” He looked at Birdie over the rim of his
coffee mug.

“That’s all relative, now, isn’t it? Valuable to whom? It dawned on me recently that
things sitting idly in a locked box could be put to much better use—like Lily Virgilio’s
free health program.”

“You’re right, as always.” Ben pushed out his chair, then leaned over and patted Birdie’s
hand. “And with your wisdom ringing in my ears, I’m off to a morning meeting with
the yacht club directors. I’ll leave you and Nell to figure out the world’s problems.”

“And solve them,” Birdie said sweetly.

Ben laughed as he walked off down the street, his long legs taking him quickly out
of sight.

“Ben wears retirement well,” Birdie mused. “Though that’s a bit of a misnomer. He’s
as busy as anyone I know.”

“But he can pick and choose now; that’s the secret. He only has to attend a few family
business meetings a year. That’s the stress that was wearing down that heart of his.
He finally could see what his brothers had already agreed to—that the nephews and
nieces could handle things just fine. Let new blood take over.”

A shadow fell across the table and their words.

Mary Pisano stood at Nell’s elbow. The bed-and-breakfast owner wore her customary
hospitable smile, one that also served her well in drawing out information for the
local newspaper column she delighted in writing. “It was a perfectly lovely party,
but it would have been better without someone stealing your jewels, Birdie,” she said.
“Theft. It’s everywhere.”

Birdie just shook her head. “Mary, you amaze me. You know the unknown. I imagine you
know the Sox score before the game is played. Surely you know who took that necklace.”

No, she said. She didn’t know that. But she wished she did. And she’d certainly work
at finding out. And when she did, her thoughts about it would appear in her “About
Town” column immediately.

The sound of shouting from down the street stopped Mary from the questions they knew
she had on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s Archie Brandley,” Birdie said. She stood up and shaded her eyes against the
sun. “It’s not like him to yell like that unless someone is spilling coffee on one
of his books.”

Nell had already gathered her sweater and bag. “I’m headed that way. Let’s see what’s
up.”

Mary tucked her laptop into a backpack and led the way across Harbor Road and down
the block, the diminutive columnist moving as fast as her sneakers could carry her.

A small crowd had gathered at the end of the alleyway that separated Archie’s bookstore
from Izzy’s yarn shop. Standing in the middle of the gravel road was a red-faced Archie
Brandley, his hands on his hips and his booming voice shouting at a young man teetering
at the top of a wooden ladder. “You’re not going to kill yourself in my alley, young
man,” they heard Archie boom. “I won’t allow it.”

“Good grief,” Nell said, staring up the ladder. “What are you doing up there, Justin?”

Justin Dorsey looked down, a dimpled smile appearing instantly and one hand releasing
its hold on the ladder to wave. “Hey, Ms. Endicott.”

“Hold on to that ladder. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Nah. I’m good with ladders. I painted a whole house last summer. This is my first
time at window washing, though. Can’t be that hard, right?”

“He’s a fool,” Archie muttered. “I don’t trust that kid farther than I can throw him.
He’s already dropped a wet sponge on poor Hemingway’s head.” He looked down at his
aging Lab, lying calmly in the middle of the alley. “Janie needs to get herself another
project. This one is trouble, I guarantee it.”

“Does Izzy know you’re washing her windows?” Nell looked up the old ladder. A bucket
of water hung from a rusty hook attached to its side. She wondered briefly about Izzy’s
insurance policy. Perhaps it was indelicate of her, but she also didn’t want Izzy’s
baby to be subjected to any stress that an accident might incur.

Justin shifted his weight and Nell held her breath as the ladder moved, creaked, then
settled back against the two-story building.

The side door slammed and Izzy appeared on the steps. “What’s going on out here?”
She stared at the crowd, at Nell, Birdie, and Archie, and then at the wooden ladder
leaning up against her building. Her eyes moved up until they locked into Justin’s.

“What are you doing up there, Justin?” Worry lines creased her forehead.

Justin started to wave again, then thought better of it and held on to the swaying
ladder with both hands. “Sorry to cause such a commotion,” he shouted down. “I just
wanted to help Janie.”

“Janie?” Archie demanded.

“Janie?” Nell and Birdie said together.

“Oh, jeez,” Izzy said. She looked at Birdie and Nell. “I was going to tell you about
it. Janie Levin is moving into the apartment above my shop. That little house out
on the highway that she was renting is up for sale.” She took a step back and looked
again at the young man on the ladder, then over at a beet red Archie.

“I guess he thought the apartment needed cleaner windows. He’s probably right. He’s
not so bad, Archie.”

Archie’s thick eyebrows pulled together, his frown telling Izzy what he thought of
her personality assessment. But before he could articulate it, a metal bucket plummeted
to the ground, its contents spraying old Hemingway and Archie Brandley’s new khaki
slacks.

The ugly gray stain was demonstrable proof that Izzy’s windows did, in fact, need
cleaning.

•   •   •

A call from Dr. Virgilio’s receptionist told Izzy that her morning doctor’s appointment
had been interrupted by the birth of three babies. Izzy agreed to come by after work
the next day instead—a better time, anyway, since her shop closed at six on Tuesdays.

Nell was fine with that, too. Perhaps they’d have more time with the doctor. Although
what they would do with it, Nell wasn’t sure. Izzy had seemed better the past couple
of days. And Sam had told Ben that she was sleeping better. No worries, Sam said.
And Ben brought the message home forcefully.

“So, my Nellie, you need to throw that worry right out the window. Right now,” Ben
had said the night before, wrapping his arms around Nell and trying to understand
her concern for such a natural happening.

Maybe it was because her own efforts to have a baby had never been realized. The years
of trying, of miscarrying, of having an adoption fall through, had been put to rest
over the years, relegated to a quiet corner of Nell’s heart. But now, in the time
it took for Sam and Izzy to show up on her doorstep with the news that she was to
be an aunt again, they reared up—the worries, the fears, the wondering. All overshadowed
by enormous joy, but still there, lingering at the edges of her happiness.

Ben suggested it wasn’t fair to Izzy for her to hover. He was right. Did all mothers
go through this when their daughters announced a pregnancy? But she wasn’t Izzy’s
mother, and even Izzy’s own mother didn’t seem to share Nell’s anxiousness. Nell’s
sister called her once a week, but mostly Caroline talked about nurseries and showers
and baby names for her first grandchild. Not anxieties.

She’d finally decided it was Izzy herself who was making her anxious. She and her
niece were so closely connected, and some days she felt Izzy’s mood shifts as acutely
as if they were her own.

“Aunt Nell?” Izzy’s voice intruded, pulling her from her thoughts. They were standing
at the door to the Virgilio Clinic.

“Where did you go? You were far, far away. . . .” Izzy smiled, searching Nell’s face.
She rested one hand on the doorknob, then leaned over and brushed Nell’s cheek with
a kiss. “I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being with me.”

A push from the other side of the door caused Izzy’s hand to fall from the knob and
they looked up into the smiling face of Tamara Danvers, her husband, Franklin, right
behind her.

“Greetings, ladies,” Franklin said. He nodded slightly, then took Tamara’s arm and
ushered her down the steps as carefully as if he were carrying a basket of eggs.

A long black car pulled up at the curb and a uniformed chauffeur hopped out and opened
the door. Tamara looked back at Izzy and Nell and offered a small wave. She lifted
one shoulder slightly as if apologizing for her husband’s unnecessary gallantry—but
the smile was more one of an Olympic swimmer winning a gold medal.

The door closed and the car sped away.

“Laura says her uncle is crazy with joy,” Izzy said. “He insisted on extra tests,
precautions, recording blood types, all sorts of things, even though Dr. Lily assured
him that the drugstore pregnancy test was fine this early in the game.”

“Well, I suppose when you’ve waited this long, you want to be sure everything is covered.”

Izzy watched the car disappear around the corner. “I suppose, although I think of
having a baby as a more natural happening, something that shouldn’t be weighted down
with all of that.”

Nell listened, her own thoughts about Franklin’s odd behavior filtering into the mix.
Rumors had surrounded Franklin Danvers over the years, something that often accompanied
great wealth. It seemed all that had come from his previous marriages were tales of
wives’ infidelities—not children. Perhaps history and experience colored a person’s
approach to events, even to the natural order of things, like childbearing.

It was certainly true in her own life.

She followed Izzy into the waiting room and closed the door behind her.

•   •   •

Once the great home of a sea captain, the Virgilio Clinic still held a grandeur and
spoke of the ocean. On every wall were framed paintings of Cape Ann’s heritage—majestic
storms, stately schooners, and brave, weathered fisherman. In the reception area,
soft couches were angled discreetly, offering a sense of warmth and comfort—and privacy.
At the far end of the room, Janie Levin stood behind the reception desk, looking down
at a computer screen.

She looked up as the door clicked shut, and almost immediately her face flooded with
apologies. The news of Justin’s recent escapade had clearly made its way to the clinic.
“I don’t know what he was doing today. I’m so sorry, Iz. Justin doesn’t think before
he acts.”

“He could have fallen,” Nell said. “That was the concern, Janie. The ladder was ancient.
Justin found it in a shed behind the bookstore.”

“And simply helped himself to it,” Janie said. She looked around to be sure no one
was within earshot, then lowered her voice. “It’s a pattern with him. Do you think
he’ll learn?”

“A pattern?” Nell said.

“He’s been in trouble his whole life. But no one ever tried to help him or give him
a chance. I thought I could make up for some of that.” She leafed through a few papers
on the desk. “Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew, but I really thought I could
help him. He can be so charming—when he isn’t trying to think up ways to get rich.
Having money is so important to him, but I guess when you’ve never had any, maybe
you think it’s an answer to all your problems, I don’t know.”

“Well, Justin was right about one thing—those windows were filthy,” Izzy said.

“Like he thought I needed clean windows? You’re so generous to rent me that beautiful
place, Iz—I’d love it if it had no windows.”

She bit down on her bottom lip. A slow flush of frustration worked its way to each
cheek. “Tommy is upset with me. He’d like to wipe Justin off the face of Sea Harbor,
if not the earth.”