Then Maggie asked. “Who was it, then? Who had the pills?”

“We can tell her, Josh. It don’t make a difference anymore,” said Sean.

“I guess.” Josh didn’t look as sure. “But you won’t tell our parents? ’Cause Sean and me, we didn’t do pills. Honest.”

The two of them looked so young and so scared Maggie was almost certain they were telling the truth. But they knew something. “I won’t tell your parents. But I won’t lie to you. I might have to tell the police.”

“Just don’t tell our parents you heard it from us. It could have been a lot of people who told. Everybody knew,” bargained Sean.

“I promise,” said Maggie, hoping no one would else would break her promise.

Sean took a deep breath and looked around. Then he lowered his voice. “Maybe there were other places in town to get stuff, but kids I know got pills from that deaf lady who came to watch the games. Miss West.”

Chapter 36

Silver Maple. Chromolithograph published by Stecher Lithographic Company, Rochester, New York. c. 1890. Probably part of a sample book for use by nurseries and tree salesmen. Shows stately home, with tree in yard, elegant carriage beneath, and inset of leaf. “A very rapid growing tree, forming an open spreading head, has abundance of clean, healthy foliage and makes a fine shade tree” printed in small letters at bottom that could easily be matted over. Silver maples are common in the northeast United States; their leaves turn yellow in the fall. They do, however, have the disadvantages of shallow root systems and brittle wood, so are vulnerable in storms. 5.5 x 8.5 inches. $50.

Maggie drove the boys back to Sean’s house through increasingly heavy rain. The wind was stronger, too. In the short time they’d been at the restaurant gusts had turned to gales. Maggie’s van rocked as she turned one sharp corner.

Hurricane Tasha might not have reached the Cape yet; forecasts said major winds wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. But she was definitely sending warnings that she was on her way.

The boys pointed at branches that had already fallen and excitedly speculated about how high the surf might get and whether anyone they knew had wetsuits and surfboards they could borrow.

Maggie was relieved when they reached Sean’s house and the boys ran for cover. Let their parents warn them of hurricane dangers. She’d have to cope with young people’s sense of invulnerability soon enough. Listening to them she’d been reminded of how fearless kids could be. And how hungry. In twenty minutes the boys had consumed an entire extra-large pizza, plus chips and large sodas. She was taking this as a personal warning that her food budget might have to change drastically in the near future.

She turned the van carefully, managing to miss a garbage can rolling erratically down the street. Luckily, the Six Gables Inn was only a couple of miles away.

Had Cordelia really been the kids’ source for drugs? Or at least one source, she told herself; there might have been another. Thinking about Cordelia as a drug dealer was totally changing the way she looked at Winslow, and the people who lived here.

Who would’ve suspected that the quiet deaf woman who took long walks along the beach and streets of Winslow, who stopped to watch children play, who smiled at everyone and never spoke was also the source of illegal pharmaceutical medications?

She tried to put it all together.

Those boxes Cordelia received from all over the country. And from other countries, the postmistress had said. She’d specifically mentioned Canada, Maggie was sure. Small quantities of prescription medications could be hidden and shipped, perhaps mixed in with the supplies she received to make her dolls. And those eBay sales she made, and the packages she sent out. Were they dolls, or was she sending drugs, too?

Gussie’d wondered how Cordelia managed to pay the high taxes on her house. Perhaps selling drugs had solved that problem.

A strong gust of wind sent the van shimmying across the road.

Maggie turned her windshield wipers on high and refocused on getting back to Six Gables. Rain was now hitting the van from all directions. The sky had darkened enough so she not only turned her headlights on because it was the law, but because she needed them.

If this was the prequel to the hurricane, what would tonight be like?

Maybe Sheila would come to her senses and cancel the party. It would be crazy to go out in weather like this.

Luckily, not many other people were stupid enough to be on the roads. Leaves that had been on the trees this morning now filled the air like rain. Or were they blowing up from the ground? Wherever they’d come from, they were sticking to the windshield. The wipers couldn’t get them all off.

Maggie slowed down even more.

Should she stop and remove the leaves? Or would stopping mean more leaves would get on the van?

She kept going, but even slower.

She crossed the downtown area. Main Street was empty. None of the stores looked open. Although if one were, she couldn’t tell and couldn’t take the time to look. No cars were parked on the street, which was beginning to flood. Leaves must be plugging storm drains. That happened this time of year in New Jersey. The center of Winslow looked like the set of a science fiction movie after all the humans had been vaporized. Prime for a Martian takeover.

Maggie smirked at her own fantasy. Those Martians had better be wearing heavy-duty L.L. Bean slickers, or they’d be mighty wet when they arrived to take charge. She made her way around the town Green and headed north.

Not far now. She slowed down even more. She didn’t want to miss the entrance. Thank goodness there were no other cars on the road.

Finally. There it was. She turned into the driveway with relief.

A police car was parked in front of the entrance to Six Gables.

Chapter 37

Donovan’s Humble-bee and Great Humble-bee.Delicate hand-colored steel engraving (1843) from Sir William Jardine’s forty-volume Naturalist Library, published by W.H. Lizar of Edinburgh. As with other engravings in the volumes, the subjects are carefully and vibrantly hand-colored; backgrounds are uncolored. The humble, or bumble, bee, is black with broad bands of yellow or orange. Humble bees often nest in the ground. Each nest has a queen, drones, and workers. 3.75 x 6 inches. Light foxing. Price: $50.

What business did the Winslow Police Department have at the B&B?

Maggie’s thoughts were almost drowned out by the rain pounding on the van roof.

Why hadn’t she thought to bring a raincoat to the Cape? The door to Six Gables was only twenty steps away, but she’d be soaked by the time she got inside.

The rain and wind weren’t easing up. She hoped Will’s mood had. She grabbed the bag of potato chips she’d bought for him, opened the van door, and ran, splashing through puddles already an inch deep that filled her sneakers with frigid water. Sodden leaves made the driveway treacherous. By the time she reached the ramp to the porch her hair was soaked, and she could practically feel her favorite wool sweater shrinking as it clung to the dripping turtleneck beneath it.

Cold, drenched, and focused on thoughts of Will, hair dryers, and towels, she opened the door to the B&B. All four people standing in the lobby turned to look at her.

“Here you are,” said Mrs. Decker. “Finally. We were wondering when you’d get back. It’s blowing a gale out there.”

“It’s dreadful. I got here as soon as I could.” Maggie stood, dripping, on the mat inside the door. Will was in back of two other women, one of whom she didn’t recognize. He wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry. I should have called, Will. But I got back as soon as I could.” She shook herself a little and carefully stepped across the worn oriental carpet to hand him the bag of barbecued potato chips covered with beads of rain. “Here; these are for you.” She wanted to add: a peace offering. But she wouldn’t say that in front of the others.