“Decorative use only, my dear woman, of course,” said Will, with a twinkle. “Although if we lose power Friday night…”
“Gussie! Have you heard about the hurricane?” Maggie said.
“Jim called and told me last night. I can’t believe we’ve been so involved we didn’t know.” She shook her head. “He’s going to try to pick up enough plywood today for the shop windows.” They all looked at the wide store-front windows she and Maggie’d admired a few days before. “We’ll put off decorating them until after the storm. I can do them with Ben’s help after you’ve gone. Why risk having anything damaged? We’ll concentrate on the rest of the store today. Will, can you help, too?”
“That’s what I’m here for. Do you need anything done at any of your houses before the storm? I can help Jim with the plywood on the shop windows, too.”
“The house I just moved out of is fine. There’s nothing to move inside, and no large windows to cover. Jim’s moving the few pieces of outdoor furniture at his house into his barn this morning. I’m a little worried about our new place, though. It’s near the beach, and since it is new, we haven’t seen it through any storms yet. We don’t know where weaknesses might be in the roof or around the foundation. And there are picture windows overlooking the Bay.”
“I assume they’re the strongest glass you could buy,” said Maggie.
“Double-paned and insulated and all of that,” agreed Gussie. “It is New England, and we live here year ’round. But in a hurricane all bets are off. I’m thinking we should cover them before the storm.”
“I haven’t seen your house, but if it’s that close to the Bay, that sounds like a good idea. The last I heard Tasha was a Category Three, with winds over a hundred and ten miles per hour,” said Will. “Of course, she could weaken before she gets to the Cape. And you’re on the northern side of the Cape, not the southern. The damage should be worse there.”
“When Hurricane Carol hit the Cape in 1953 the storm surge on the south drove salt water inland as far as Route 6. Hundreds of homes were flooded, and thousands of trees were killed. I remember seeing all the dead, white trees, on the Cape when I was a little girl. My father used to call them ghost trees, and talk about how frightening the storm had been. A lot of old-timers still remember. The spire of the Old North Church in Boston was blown down in Hurricane Carol, too. We don’t get many bad hurricanes hitting up this far. It’s like Maine. But once in a while we get surprised. And I don’t want to take a chance with our new home.” She picked up her phone. “I’ll make sure Jim gets enough plywood for those windows.”
While she was talking with Jim, Maggie and Will moved empty cartons from the front room into the back and folded them.
“Look around, Will. This room is going to be the new Shadows Antique Print Gallery,” Maggie said, proudly.
“What?”
“Gussie’s offered it to me for my prints,” she explained. “I’ve already measured it. I’m going to hang framed prints on the walls, and put three or four of those folding stands I have for large prints on the floor over here, below the windows.” She showed him. “I’ll bring four of my show tables up for the center of the room, and put stands on them for smaller groups of prints.” She turned to look at him. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s great you’ll have a place to sell your prints that’s closer to Maine,” he said. “If it works, maybe it’ll mean you won’t have to do as many shows. And you’ll have to come to the Cape to replenish and change your inventory. This would be a great place for us to meet, too.” He smiled and gave her a hug. “I can think of a number of reasons why your having your prints in Winslow is a good idea.”
Maggie’s phone rang. “Excuse me!” she said, untwining herself from Will’s arms. “Yes, Diana? No! No.” Maggie’s face paled. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”
“What is it?” Will asked, as Maggie almost ran back to the front room, pulling him with her.
“Gussie, it’s awful. You won’t believe it. Diana just called.” She took a deep breath. “Cordelia’s been shot. She’s dead.”
Gussie stopped arranging toys and stared at her. “When? What happened? Oh, Maggie, I can’t believe it! Who would hurt Cordelia?”
“Who’s Cordelia?” said Will, looking from one of the women to the other.
“Diana slept in this morning. When she came downstairs she didn’t see Cordelia in the house. She thought she’d gone for a walk. When Cordelia still hadn’t come home after she’d had breakfast Diana decided to see if she was on the beach. That’s where she found her.”
“Like Dan.”
“I don’t think she’d been in the water. She didn’t say that. She just said she was on the beach.”
“She’s called Ike?” Gussie checked.
“He’s already there. I told her I’d come, too.”
“Go, then. My scooter’s no use on the sand, and Jim expects me to be here. You and Will go. She needs someone with her.” Gussie shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Why? I still can’t imagine a possible reason.”
Will held up his keys. “I assume we’re going somewhere?”
“I’ll explain along the way,” said Maggie. “I haven’t told you everything that’s been happening in Winslow.”
Will sighed as he followed her out the door. “My dear lady, when do you ever?”
Chapter 28
Medical Plants.One of a series of illustrations of plants grown for medicinal use, from The Practical Home Physician, 1883. This page illustrates Dill (to increase breast milk and cure colic), Peppermint (for intestinal gas), Spurge-Laurel (a poison), and Black Bryony (for constipation). 6 x 9 inches. $35.
Maggie and Will had to park several houses down Apple Orchard Lane. The driveway and street were filled by two police cars, an ambulance, and a van marked CRIME SCENE UNIT.
Not to speak of several neighbors, whose cars (and one bicycle) were driving slowly through the area, and one WBZ-TV Boston van that must have been in the area, since it had reached the scene so quickly.
Maggie and Will tried to avoid them all.
The first barrier they ran into was a patrolman Maggie hadn’t seen before. “Sorry, folks. This is a crime scene. No one’s admitted. No sightseers. Go home. Or at least stay on the street.”
“I’m Maggie Summer. Diana Hopkins called me. I’m a close friend of the family. That poor girl has no one!” Maggie chattered. “Chief Irons knows who I am.”
The cop hesitated and pulled out his phone. “Chief, woman name of Maggie Summer is out front. Says Ms Hopkins called her. What do you want me to do with her?” Pause. “Okay.” He turned to Maggie. “You stay here. The chief’s going to send someone out for you. He says the Hopkins girl’s really upset; maybe your being here will calm her down.” He looked at Will. “I don’t know about you, sir.”
“He’s with me,” said Maggie.
The patrolman shrugged.
A few minutes later another policeman came out of the house and beckoned to Maggie. She took Will’s hand, and pulled him with her.
“Who’s this?” asked the policeman.
“My friend Will,” said Maggie. “I’m sure the chief will say it’s all right.”
The patrolman didn’t look convinced, but let the two of them follow him.
Diana was standing at the side of the house, out of view of the street. Her face was pale, and she was clasping a glass of water as though she would never let it go.
She looked up as Maggie came around the corner. “Maggie!”
With that word the tears she’d been holding back began flowing. Maggie reached out and took the glass from her shaking hands and handed it to Will. “I’m so sorry, Diana.”
She put her arm around the girl and let her sob.
Finally Diana stood back. She looked questioningly at Will.
“This is my friend from Maine, Will Brewer.”
“Right. Your guy. I remember. I just didn’t want him to be a plainclothes cop or something,” Diana said. “Maggie, you’ve got to help me. The police won’t let me into the house. They keep saying it’s a crime scene. I called 911 and you, but now they’ve even taken my cell phone away.” She began to sob again.