Murder on the Bluffs, page 22
“Well, I’m hungry!” Jackie said. “You’re the Quaker, not me.”
We kept the conversation light as we ate, but questions kept arising. I set down a forkful of salad.
“Iris, remember what you said about Mary going away when she was younger?”
Iris nodded, her mouth full.
“I think Mark Pulcifer might be her birth son. Her child with Walter.”
Iris nodded again. “He is.” She refilled everyone’s glasses, emptying the first bottle.
I stared. “You know this?”
“Walter told me this morning, in the hospital. Mark grew more curious about his birth parents and did some Internet searches. He had contacted Walter only a few days ago.”
“When I was over at Mary’s last week, Walter showed up in a big hurry. He said to her, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’” I set my chin on my hand, my elbow on the table. “I thought he said the word ‘mark,’ but I didn’t realize it was a name. But then I had a drink with Mary at Ithaki, where Mark worked. She looked at him like she knew all about him, and not simply because he worked in her brother’s insurance agency.”
“He must not have contacted Mary, though.” Jackie leaned back in her chair.
“Right,” Iris said. “Walter said Mark knew about Mary, but he wanted to talk with Walter first. Mary can be unpredictable, and Mark’s probably seen that working with Charlie at the agency.” She sipped her champagne. “And you know what else Walter told me? He’s going to push the Trustees to start doing what they’re supposed to. I think having a gun shot at him kind of woke him up to doing what’s right.”
“He’s going to push them to pay what they owe to the schools?” Jackie asked.
Iris nodded. “They’re going to have to get two new Trustees now, to replace Danny and Charlie. Walter’s got some ideas for who, and one of them is James Wojinski. Another one might be yours truly.” She grinned.
“I’ll drink to that.” I raised my glass and took a sip. My phone rang where it sat on the counter. I reached for it and checked the display.
“Uh-oh, it’s Chief Flaherty. I’d better answer this.” I put down the glass before I connected and said, “Hello, Chief.” I listened, thanked him, and disconnected.
“What’s up?” Jackie asked.
“They finally processed the video from the hospital parking lot where my tires were slashed last week.”
“What?” Mom said after a sharp intake of breath. “You didn’t tell me about that.”
“Mom, there’s actually a lot I don’t tell you. I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, it took them a while because Zac is away. But the chief said it was my esteemed karate instructor who knifed my tires. Dan Talbot.” I shook my head. “What a scumbag.”
“He must have sensed you were on his trail,” Iris said.
“Maybe. But I’m not sure I was at that time.”
“Say, Bobby Spirokis was leaving the rehab center this morning when I got to the hospital,” Iris said. “Guess he’s doing pretty well.”
“I’m glad. He must have been terrified of Dan.”
“Speaking of nuts, anybody heard anything about that crazy Fiona?” Jackie looked around the table.
“James came into the bakery this afternoon,” Iris said. “He’s free, of course. But he said Fiona is home. It turns out the crash was an accident, after all. She was deluded about thinking she brought it on.”
“I feel bad for both of them,” Mom said.
“Yes, and for Daddy, too.” I couldn’t help it. My thoughts kept returning to an image of my father being drowned by Dan Talbot. Or maybe Dan killed him before he hit the water. I’d ask my mother about an autopsy. But not now.
“Did you ever talk to Dan Talbot’s father?” I asked.
“No.” Mom gazed out the window. “I didn’t have the strength to. He sent me a card, but I tossed it in the trash.” She patted my hand, and then wiped a tear from her cheek. “Your father loved all of us. We can hold that in our hearts.”
• • •
I was nearly home from my run the next morning. At the corner with High Street, a little red car passed me and turned up my street. It stopped with squeaky brakes and honked. I turned to look.
“Yo, gaijin!” A head hung out the driver’s-side window.
“Elise! Gaijin!” Our nickname for each other was the Japanese word for “foreigner.”
Elise pulled closer to the side of the road and climbed out of the car. Gone was the black spiky hair, pasty skin, and trembling hand of the addict. Her hair now formed a soft cap around her grinning rosy-cheeked face. She wore her same black high-top sneakers, but now with khaki shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt in blues and pinks instead of her former all-black attire. She’d put some meat on her skinny bones and showed muscled arms and legs that looked like she’d been exercising, too.
I strode up to hug her and then stepped back, matching my friend’s smile. “You look awesome. I haven’t seen you so healthy since our year in Japan.”
“Hey, rehab’s good for something. I’m back on the streets again, though, so watch out.”
“Whoa—” I began.
“Hey, I’m kidding!” Elise laughed. “Not to worry, Lauren. I feel so good being rid of that habit. I know I still have work to do, but I’m not planning on ever going back there.”
“Happy to hear it. I’m heading home to make coffee. Join me? We have a lot to talk about.”
“Twist my arm.”
About the Author
Agatha Award-winning author Edith Maxwell writes the Amesbury-based Quaker Midwife historical mysteries, the Lauren Rousseau Mysteries, the Local Foods Mysteries, and short crime fiction. As Maddie Day she writes the Country Store Mysteries and the Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries.
A longtime Quaker and former doula, Maxwell lives north of Boston with her beau, two cats, and an impressive array of garden statuary. She blogs at WickedAuthors.com and KillerCharacters.com. Read about all her personalities and her work at edithmaxwell.com.
Edith Maxwell, Murder on the Bluffs
