An Island Reunion, page 7
“I have to order some flowers for our high school reunion as well,” Bea added. “So, take your time. I’m going to look around a little bit.”
Bea strolled around the store, checking out arrangements and flowers. Finally, she decided on an assortment of native plants—wattle, bottlebrush, banksia, waxflower, grevillea. She pointed out the arrangements she preferred to Betsy, who noted them down in a small book with a pencil. She chewed on the end of the pencil, brow furrowed while Bea spoke, then her pencil went flying across the page as she wrote the order.
Finally, they were finished, and Bea followed Betsy to the cash register to pay. “Thank you for all your help. It makes things a lot easier that Chaz works here and can pick them up to bring to the event. She’s planning the reunion for us—did I mention that?”
“You didn’t mention it,” Betsy replied. “But that’s positive — she’ll go far in this industry if she wants. She’s artistic and does detailed work. She’s a good girl.”
“I think so too,” Bea agreed. She’d wanted to bring up the subject of her mother, but it never seemed like the right time. She had questions. Perhaps Betsy would give her the answers she was looking for. She cleared her throat. “I remember when I first met you. You said something about my mother’s death being a waste. That it shouldn’t have happened.”
Betsy’s gaze met hers. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were mostly black against the glow of the shop lights behind her. “That’s right. It shouldn’t have.”
“Did you mean anything by that?”
“Like what?” she asked, her American accent growing stronger by the minute.
“Was there something that could’ve been done to prevent her taking her own life?”
Betsy sighed. “I think so. But what do I know?”
“By Dad or someone else?”
Betsy’s eyes narrowed, and she studied Bea closely. “What are you getting at, darlin’?”
“Did you have something to do with her death?” Bea almost whispered the words, and her heart thudded as they left her lips.
Betsy didn’t move a muscle. Then she spoke. “Why do you ask that?”
“I know about the cave, Betsy. I found the box that was stashed there and handed it in to the police.”
“I get that, Bea. But what does that have to do with me?” Betsy lowered herself into the chair behind the register, seeming suddenly older than her eighty-plus years. Her face was lined, her eyes red-rimmed with dark shadows beneath them. She must not be sleeping well.
“Chaz and Bradford saw you go into the cave and come out again. What were you doing in there?”
Betsy’s lips pulled into a lazy grin. “Aren’t y’all the little detectives?”
“We know about your old life in California and that you kidnapped your son and ran from the law.”
Betsy’s smile faded. “Oh, do you now? Well, I figured, since Chaz had all those clippings.”
“Did you kill my mother?”
Betsy grunted. “Of course not. She took her own life—there was nothing suspicious about it. But if you’re asking whether I had a role in it, yes, I suppose I did. I didn’t do anything to stop her, and I should’ve. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess.”
“What should you have done?”
Betsy’s laughter was high pitched and unnerving. “Why do you want to know all of this now?”
“Because I have to know the truth.”
“Even if I tell you, I’ll deny it all day long. It’ll be your word against mine.” It sounded like a caution.
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if anyone else believes me or not.”
Betsy seemed to consider what she’d said. “Okay, fine. I guess you should know—she was your mother, after all. And I liked her. The fact is, I should’ve put a stop to the rumours that she was crazy. I should’ve owned up to killing Mary Brown first thing, and then none of it would’ve happened. But I didn’t, and things worked out the way they did. And that’s the end of it.”
Beatrice gasped. “You? What?”
“You didn’t know? I thought for sure you’d figured out that part,” Betsy rasped, laughing and then erupted into a hacking cough. “Not as clever as you thought you were, huh?”
“I didn’t think it could be true. I suspected it, but I couldn’t believe it.” Adrenaline surged through Bea’s veins. Her thoughts were clear and steady now. She had put herself in a dangerous situation. She scanned the room for the fastest way out of there.
“It’s true. Your mother said the same thing—she figured it out and no one believed her then, like no one will believe you now. They can’t comprehend that a nice old lady like me could do something so heinous. But people do whatever they have to do to protect their family. Even kill.”
Bea frowned. “You’d kill to protect a brother who impregnated a teenaged girl?”
“I could’ve gone either way on that — I didn’t like what he did. I told him when we got here that he needed to control himself. I didn’t want any trouble. Trouble was the last thing we could afford. But of course, he couldn’t manage to keep it together long enough for us to establish a life for ourselves.”
“Why did you have to run from your husband?”
“He was a dangerous man, a criminal. He robbed banks and jewellery stores. He mixed with the worst kind of thugs, and he was violent to me and Frank. So, when I got the chance, I stole from him and fled the country. I thought he’d be angry, but I didn’t understand how long he’d look for us. This island saved our lives, that’s the truth. No one came looking for us here. He spent decades scouring the earth for a sign of either one of us. And he never did find us.”
“What did you steal?”
“A few things he’d taken from someone else. It doesn’t matter. It paid for this shop and our house, our new life, our identities. The money gave us a chance to start over, and I’d do it all again if I had to. It was worth it. Mary found out that Buck was the father of Ruby’s baby, and she threatened to go to the police, saying it was rape. Of course, I pointed out that sixteen wasn’t considered rape in this state, but she said she knew it’d started earlier, and I couldn’t fault her on that. But the problem was, if she went to the police, they’d look deeper into our past, and I couldn’t afford for them to do that. ’Course, that was before I made good friends down at the station, friends who like to help me avoid too much scrutiny for a bit of back-scratching.”
“Back-scratching?”
“Never mind, honey. You’re too naïve to understand how the world works. But let’s say I was desperate, and I found a way to make sure Mary never went to the police with her sad tale. Ruby was too afraid to go herself after Mary’s death. So, it all worked out.”
Anger stirred in Bea’s gut. “It didn’t work out for Penny’s family.”
“No, you’re right about that. But I was more concerned with protecting my own family at the time. I didn’t think much about how things would progress. I was new to the island, and I didn’t know many people. Of course, now they’re like family to me, so I’d probably handle things differently given the chance to do it over.”
“You let your own brother take the blame for the murder…”
“I figured he owed me, after what he’d done. He could’ve blown our cover and gotten all of us killed, the lout. He never was much of a thinker. I brought him with us to keep him safe and so he could help us in case we needed it, but I should’ve left him behind. He brought nothing with him but trouble.”
Bea strode to the door, then spun on her heel and marched back to where Betsy sat. “You talk about murder as though it’s nothing. No big deal. But you ended someone’s life. You destroyed families—mine and Penny’s. My mother never got over the way people treated her. She discovered the truth, and everyone called her crazy for it.”
“I felt bad about that. Truly, I did.” Betsy’s black eyes glittered cunningly.
Bea didn’t believe a word. “You’ve never felt bad about a thing in your life.”
Betsy grinned. “Now, you could be right about that. I want to feel bad, but I’m not sure I do.”
“What about the evidence in the cave? Whose blouse was that?”
“Mary’s, of course.”
“Why didn’t the police match the DNA?”
“No DNA back then, was there? I’m sure if there’s any left on it, they’re matching it to her grandchildren now. But they haven’t said a thing to me about it, and I’m not sure how those things work. It’ll likely be used in the case against my brother when the time comes, if they manage it.”
“You’ll let him take the fall?”
“I haven’t decided on that yet. I’m thinking about it.” Betsy tapped a finger to her chin, as though lost in deep thought. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Bea glared at Betsy. “You’re unhinged, a sociopath.”
Betsy shrugged. “It’s possible. But I’m also a mother and a grandmother, a sister, and a friend. Everything I’ve done has been to keep the people I love safe. And I’m sure you’d do the same.”
“I’d never kill someone or let another person take her life because she was made to think she was crazy over my crimes.”
“You don't know what you might do until you’re in the situation. When you’re worried about your baby, you might do almost anything at all.”
“Why are you telling me this? You know I’ll report it.”
Betsy inhaled a slow breath. “Sometimes a load can get a bit too heavy to carry for another mile. I don’t want to carry this secret any longer. It’s time to let it go. Besides, as I said before, maybe no one will believe you. Don’t be like your mother — move on with your life. It’ll be best for you and for the island if we can put this drama to bed and let it rest.”
Beatrice’s nostrils flared. She wanted to scream, shout, slap that silly half-smile off Betsy’s wrinkled old face. Instead, she spun on her heel and stormed from the shop. She was half infuriated and half scared to death. She hadn’t been certain that Betsy would let her leave after baring her soul that way. She was afraid she’d pull out a knife or chase her down. But she wasn’t a young woman any longer, and maybe what she’d said was true. Why would anyone believe that Betsy would simply open up and share her crimes the way she had? Regardless, Bea had to do what she could — she’d make an appointment to see the detective in charge of the case. He’d surely listen to her this time. There was no way he could ignore her now.
Eleven
The entire corner of Main Street opposite the dock no longer held Bea’s Coffee and Eveleigh’s Books. Instead, the corner had been transformed into a sleek, modern, almost entirely white tourist office. Charmaine marched down Main Street, a book of floral arrangements beneath one arm, and stared agape at the new construction. She’d already seen it dozens of times, but today it was open, and she was going inside. There was something appealing about the sparkling glass windows and the gleaming white paint she hadn’t noticed before, even if the entire building was a stark reminder of what had been lost.
The construction was finally complete. Evie and Bradford had been there all morning moving office equipment into the space, according to Evie. She’d called Charmaine earlier to ask her to come over with some ideas for a regular flower delivery for the office.
She spied Evie through the window. Her red curls were piled on top of her head, and she wore a pair of denim overalls and a pink shirt beneath it. Knee-high pink-striped socks completed the ensemble. She looked cute, young, and carefree as she waved to Charmaine.
The front door was ajar, so Charmaine stepped inside, scanning the room as she went. She marvelled at how new and perfect every aspect of the office was.
“This is amazing,” she said.
“Does it look like a hospital? I told Bradford we need a bit more colour.”
“You can add accents, but this is great,” Charmaine replied. “I love it. Very streamlined.”
“That’s true,” Evie replied. “Not my style, but then it’s not about me. I’m only the employee.”
“How is everything coming together?” Charmaine asked, sitting in a chair and crossing her legs.
Evie sat across from her. “It’s going well. The construction was only a couple of weeks behind schedule. Bradford has taken the boat back to the mainland to get another load of supplies to bring over, and we’re on track to open in a few days’ time. It’s going to be scary, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“Do you think you’ll enjoy being a tourist guide?” Charmaine asked.
“I really do. Brad has already promised to teach me how to scuba dive and sail, so eventually I can take customers out on tours and not be stuck behind the desk. But for now, I’m going to learn the business here, in the office.”
“I’m kind of jealous, I have to admit,” Charmaine replied with pursed lips.
“Jealous? Why?”
“You get to work with Brad all day, every day.”
Evie laughed. “He won’t be here much. He’s mostly at the main office or out on the yachts.”
“Still…”
“I promise to make sure no one flirts with him,” Evie whispered conspiratorially.
Charmaine hid a smile behind her hand. “I’ve never had such a good looking boyfriend before, and I’m not used to all the stares he gets. I still don’t know what he sees in me.”
Evie waved a hand. “Oh, stop with that nonsense. You’re a great catch. He sees how lovely you are. He’s a smart guy.”
“Halloooo?” Bea’s voice echoed through the open space. She angled her head through the doorway, and her gaze met Charmaine. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair messy. Her eyes were glassy, and she blinked repeatedly.
Charmaine stood to her feet. “Are you okay, Bea?”
Bea hurried inside, shut the door behind her, and glanced out the window, peering as best she could around the two women. “Can we pull the blinds on those windows?”
Evie frowned. “Um… Sure, okay.” She closed the blinds on the line of windows with one push of a button against the wall. The blinds whirred shut slowly until the women stood in darkness.
“Light switch?” Bea’s voice rang out.
“By the door,” Evie replied.
The shop sprang to life with the lights overhead flickering on all at once. Bea strode across the floor and stopped in front of Charmaine and Evie.
“I have to tell you something, but we’re all going to need a stiff drink. What can we drink, Evie?”
Evie glanced around the shop strewn with half-empty boxes and pieces of semi-finished furniture. “Well… I think there’s some kombucha in the kitchen.”
“That will have to do,” Bea replied.
Evie hurried to pour three glasses of kombucha and brought them back on a tray beside a pile of crackers and cheese on a very white brand-new plate.
“Everything’s white, huh?” Bea asked.
“White, white, white,” Evie replied with crossed eyes. “Your brother loves it. I’m coming around. Chaz thinks I can add splashes of colour.”
Bea laughed. “Good luck with that. Let’s sit. You’re not going to believe what happened.”
By the time Bea had finished telling Charmaine and Evie what Betsy had said and done, Charmaine could barely contain herself. She leapt to her feet and paced to the windows, then back again.
“She told you all this stuff?”
“Yep, blurted it out like she’s been wanting to spill for a long time and was glad someone finally asked.”
“That’s so strange,” Evie replied, her eyes wide and staring blankly at the ground. “How could Betsy kill anyone? She’s so nice.”
“I don’t think she’s very nice. Stabbing someone to death puts a bit of a damper on the whole nice-old-lady image.” Bea shook her head. “What kind of person…?”
“Clearly a psychopath,” Evie said.
Charmaine paced some more. “But … it doesn’t make sense. And yet it does. I still can’t believe it. She’s my boss, my friend. I’ve come to see her as family, since I lost my own. And now? Now what?” A lump built rapidly in her throat. This couldn’t be happening.
Bea hurried to her side. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking. Of course you’d be upset. I shouldn’t have told you—at least, not like that. I’m so shocked about the whole thing; I’m not seeing things clearly.”
“It’s not your fault,” Charmaine murmured. “Only I still can’t take it in.”
“She wasn’t this old, you know. At the time, she only would’ve been about thirty. She could’ve done it,” Evie said with a sigh. “It was a long time ago.”
“That’s true,” Charmaine admitted, the lump in her throat growing. She didn’t want to cry. It was silly to cry because a murderer had turned out not to be the nice person you thought they were. Silly and embarrassing. She held back the tears with a cough.
“We were all fooled,” Bea said, patting Charmaine’s back. “It’s true that you didn’t see it, but none of us did. We all love Betsy. The whole island adores her. She’s part of the furniture around here—a fact she reminded me of. She said no one would believe me if I told them she admitted to the murder. Still, I’m going to the police. If they don’t believe me, I’ll deal with that when it happens.”
“Well, I believe you,” Evie said.
“Me too,” Charmaine whispered. “I don’t want to, but I do.”
“Thank you,” Bea said with a shake of her head. Her brow furrowed. “But can I ask why you believe me, Chaz? You love Betsy. You’ve told us before you can’t believe she’d be part of this, yet now you’re ready to accept that I haven’t made this story up. That it’s all true, even though it means your friend and boss is a murderer. Has something changed?”
Charmaine didn’t want to say it, but she had to. There was no keeping it to herself now. And if she didn’t speak up, she’d be putting herself in harm’s way. It was time to bring everything out into the open, no matter what the consequences might be.
“I know you’re telling the truth because my mother witnessed the murder.”
