“I already am this involved,” said Maggie. “I want Diana and Cordelia to be safe. Someone dangerous is out there, and I want him stopped. Maybe I can help. Maybe I can’t. But at least I can let those two women know someone cares about them. I haven’t seen this town doing much so far besides sending over cookies.”
“I’ll call Jim,” said Gussie. “But remember not to let them depend on you too much. That will just make it harder for them when you have to leave.”
“I know,” said Maggie. “I keep thinking about that.”
“Don’t forget it. Sometimes it’s better not to get involved than to make promises you can’t keep,” warned Gussie.
Maggie drove by the bakery and was pleased to see it had opened at 5:30. She was in time to pick up a box of assorted Danish, and not knowing what Diana or Cordelia would want, decided to go for comfort food, and ordered three large hot chocolates with whipped cream. Even she would forego a Diet Pepsi for a hot chocolate on a damp and chilly October morning.
The sky was dark, and the dew was heavy. Wet orange and yellow leaves were pasted onto the sidewalk and street in the center of downtown and stuck under Maggie’s windshield wipers. Luckily she didn’t have far to drive.
Before she got out of her van the door of the house opened. Diana’d been waiting for her.
“Here,” said Maggie, thrusting the box of drinks at Diana, “something to warm you up this dank morning. And I brought other goodies.” She followed the young woman into the house, where Cordelia sat at the kitchen table. They both looked pale and tense.
“I’m so glad you came,” said Diana. “I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.” She held up the goodies so Cordelia could see them.
“I brought hot chocolate and…sweet things,” Maggie signed, unsure of how to sign “Danish” except by spelling it. Cordelia smiled at her hesitation.
“Thank you,” she signed back.
The three women sat at the kitchen table and opened their cups of chocolate capped generously with whipped cream. Some moments called for chocolate and sugar. This morning seemed to qualify.
A few minutes later Maggie wiped off her fingers and signed, “You have no idea who was on the porch earlier this morning?”
Cordelia shook her head. “It was too dark to see. I only saw the beam from a flashlight, and turned on the porch light. Then I saw liquid thrown out of the darkness onto the porch. At first I didn’t dare open the door. Then I did, and smelled gasoline, or kerosene, and called the fire department.”
Diana asked, “Is she sure she couldn’t recognize the person again?”
Maggie checked. Cordelia was adamant. “I don’t even know if I saw a man or a woman. Or how tall the person was. It was all so fast, and so dark.”
“Maybe the police will find some clues,” Maggie said. “Maybe the person left footprints. And whoever it was will certainly smell of gasoline or kerosene.”
“Anyone who works on the water or in a garage could smell of gasoline,” signed Cordelia. “And a shower could take the smell away.”
“But not off all his or her clothes,” Maggie pointed out. “Not immediately. We can hope.”
“Why would someone want to burn the house?” asked Diana.
“That’s what I would like to know,” said Maggie. “Cordelia, can you think of any reason someone would want to destroy this house, or anything in it?”
The woman shook her head slowly, looking puzzled. “My things are here. Nothing anyone else would be interested in.”
“What about Diana’s father? Is there anything he left that anyone would want to destroy?”
Cordelia stopped for a moment, thinking. “His things are in the bedroom he used. I never went in there. There was no reason.”
“Diana, have you gone through what your father left in his room?”
Diana looked down. “Yes. When he didn’t come home I wanted to find out why. I tried to find something that would give me a hint of where he’d gone.”
“Did you find anything someone might want to destroy?”
Diana shook her head. “Just a few clothes. He must have had his telephone with him. There weren’t any papers. No pictures, and no computer. Nothing.”
Maggie translated for Cordelia.
Cordelia looked at Diana. “I knew who he really was. But even with a new name, he was afraid of being tracked. He didn’t have credit cards. He didn’t have a driver’s license or a car. He kept saying he would pay someone to get new papers, but I don’t think he’d done that. He only worked for cash.”
“What kind of work did he do?”
“At first he tried working on fishing boats, like many men here, but he had a weak stomach.” Cordelia smiled. “He got seasick easily. No one wanted him on their boat. Sometimes he worked for Rocky Costa down at the Lazy Lobster, tending bar and waiting tables, when Rocky needed extra help. He mowed lawns and trimmed trees for people during the summer.”
Maggie summarized for Diana, who seemed to know most of that. “He told me he volunteered with a baseball league for teenagers. I thought that was cool because he’d been a Little League coach in Colorado,” she added.
“He worked with boys here?” asked Maggie.
“He didn’t coach. He was in charge of equipment or schedules, ” said Diana. “He told me that was one of his favorite things to do, but he didn’t get paid to do it.”
Interesting, Maggie thought. He was suspected of selling drugs to young people in town, but this was the first she’d heard he’d had a reason to be near young people.
“Was Dan helping with the baseball team this summer?” she asked Cordelia.
“No. He did that a year ago,” Cordelia answered. “Last spring he started working with the team again, but there were problems.” She hesitated. “He was blamed for the death of a boy who took too many pills. Someone even threw rocks and broke two of our windows.” She shook her head. “It was bad. Rocky told Dan he couldn’t come to practices anymore. People were too upset.”
“Rocky told him that?”
“He was Dan’s boss at the Lazy Lobster, and he coached the team. That’s how Dan got the job helping out.”
Rocky Costa. The bartender at the Lazy Lobster. Funny, he hadn’t happened to mention that connection when she was there the other day.
“How did Dan feel about being fired from a volunteer job?”
“At first he was angry. Then he was sad. It wasn’t easy for him here. Working with the boys was one of the things he enjoyed. But he understood why he couldn’t do it anymore.”
“It was kind of you to let him live here for the past two years. That’s a long time to open your home to a distant relative.”
Cordelia looked up at Maggie in surprise.
“This house belonged to him until three years ago. I was the one who was grateful he’d paid the taxes and let me live here all those years. He had a right to be here.”
Chapter 19
Raid on a Sand-Swallow Colony, “How Many Eggs?”Winslow Homer wood engraving of four boys climbing up sand dunes and stealing eggs from the nests of the swallows nesting there. Printed in Harper’s Weekly, June 13, 1874, one of the last of Homer’s engravings to be printed in Harper’s, and one of his finest. It was done at Gloucester, Massachusetts, and is therefore sometimes considered one of his “Gloucester Series,” although it doesn’t quite match the four other beach scenes he did there because it’s a vertical engraving; the other four are horizontal. 13.75 x 9.25 inches. Price: $450.
“This house belonged to Diana’s father? Not just twenty years ago when he lived here, but until three years ago?” asked Maggie.
“Yes. I thought everyone knew,” signed Cordelia. “When he and his wife moved west I needed a place to stay. They told me I could live here for the rest of my life if I wanted to. Roger sent money to pay the taxes and keep the house painted and the roof from leaking. I paid for the utilities and my food, of course. Then three years ago, for some reason, he signed the deed over to me.”