Gull & Bones

Book 8: Seaside Knitters Society

by Sally Goldenbaum

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

The sugar maples are beginning to turn, and the seasonal visitors have closed up their cottages—one more summer has been thoroughly packed away. But the residents of Sea Harbor, Massachusetts, have a celebration to look forward to, until a killer calls sudden death . . .

Long-time resident Angus McPherron has a very special birthday coming up—his 100th! Known as the “old man of the sea” by Sea Harbor residents, he’s lived in town all his long life and has shared plenty of colorful tales of the area.

Back in town to fill a much-needed nursing position at the free clinic, Charlie Chambers, Izzy Perry’s brother, is staying in one of the handful of cottages Angus owns. The yarn shop owner is thrilled he’s in town—though she’d like to know more about his mysterious roommate, Annie Smith. Still, she’s grateful that each morning Charlie checks Angus’s vitals and makes sure he takes his meds.

Meanwhile, Izzy and the other Seaside Knitters are busy planning Angus’s birthday bash, knitting his beloved gulls into everything they make. With bands rehearsing and the menu set, Angus’s celebration promises to be unforgettable. But the day before, when Charlie stops by Angus’s cottage, he finds the old man has died in his sleep. Shocked and saddened, the town decides to go ahead with the festivities, which will now become a celebration of the old man’s life.

But when Angus’s closest friend, Father Northcutt, is found on the floor of Angus’s cottage, unconscious from a deadly blow to his head, Angus’s death is examined more closely, and soon is a suspected homicide. As the knitters delve into Angus’s history, more questions than answers surface. Soon the whole community is concerned over what now looks like murder, a tragedy buried deep in a shameful chapter in Sea Harbor’s past. And one that may point to a killer still in their midst . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Angus McPherron sat back in the weathered deck chair, an old sugar maple providing an umbrella of shade from the morning sun. A gusty ocean breeze released a scattering of leaves, several catching in Angus’s thick white beard.

“Good lord,” the old man muttered, but in a kindly way, as if apologizing for the inconvenience of interrupting their fall. He brushed them off, then glanced over at the large body in the chair to his left, the chest rising and falling slowly, accompanied by a guttural sound that rivaled that of the birds diving for a fish dinner a short distance away.

“Sorry, fellas,” Angus called out to his gull friends. He watched their graceful dance with pleasure, waiting for them to return to their perch on the deck railing.

They never judge, he thought. No matter how many of their feathers I ruffle. The thought made him chuckle. His good friends’ feathers were ruffled far more easily.

“Sorry?” the man next to him repeated drowsily. The Reverend Lawrence Northcutt pulled his lids open and looked out at the water, then managed to turn toward his friend. “You’re sorry? For what? For being old?”

Angus’s answer was a deep, wheezy laugh that belied his nearly one hundred years of life. “Why would I be sorry about that, Larry? It beats the alternative.”

The retired priest’s laugh was muted by his recent dozing.

“I do admit that some of my parts are wearing down a bit,” Angus said.

“It happens,” his friend said solemnly, then followed it with a chuckle. “My guess is it’ll take more than rusty parts to make you miss this grand celebration ahead of us. It’ll be more attention than you’ve ever gotten in your whole life, Angus. All of Sea Harbor feting their very own old man of the sea.”

Angus nodded, smiling beneath the beard. He loved the nickname, given to him long before he was actually old. “One hundred years almost. Who would a thought? After my Anya died those seventy-plus years ago, I thought I was done in for good. And now look at me. Fit as a fiddle, albeit an old one.” Angus paused and swiveled his neck as best he could, looking around his own yard and the wooded acres that comprised the whole park, a forest filled with hiking trails, ponds, and an abundance of wildlife. Some of it was the same as it was all those years ago when he worked the quarry alongside his late wife’s father. In front of him, an ocean that seemed to have no end. His world.

Next to him, the priest sipped his drink slowly, feeling his friend’s reveries and knowing that mixed into his them was a beautiful Finnish woman moving gracefully through his memories.

“You’ve have a good life, Larry, you know that.”

“I do.” Angus smiled, then turned his attention to a tall woman running along the shore, just beyond the line of blowing seagrasses.

“See that woman down there? She’s part gazelle,” he said. “Look at her gait. Beautiful.”

The woman’s startling red hair flew behind her, the thick strands separated by the wind, then turning a blinding copper as the sun hit at just the right angle.

As if feeling the old man’s eyes on her—or perhaps hearing the two hard-of-hearing men nearly shouting at each other—the woman slowed, shielding her eyes as she looked up at them. She lifted one hand, smiling, and waved in a familiar way.

Angus waved back, then beckoned her up to the deck with a curve of his hand.

The woman’s gaze shifted from Angus to his companion. Then she nodded and called out through cupped hands, “Later.”

In the next minute she picked up speed and ran down the beach.

“You know something, Angus? I think that young lady is afraid of me,” father Larry said. “She doesn’t come around when I’m here.”

Angus chuckled. “Annie? She’s a quiet one. Not shy. Just careful, I think you’d say. You should work on getting to know her, although that’s a process for sure.”

“A process?”

Angus nodded. “But I’m enjoying it. She’s a mystery of the finest kind. A good person.” He leaned over and picked up a squat bottle, then poured the whiskey into two glasses that sat on the table between them. Angus lifted his up. “Here’s to mysterious women, wherever they may be.”

Their glasses clinked, and smiles returned.

Finally, after a restful silence that was long enough for their glasses to empty, the priest lifted the bottle and made another pour. Then he leaned toward Angus and said quietly, as if even Angus’s gulls should not be privy to what he was about to say, “In some ways I know you better than most people do, Angus. Perhaps even better than that old group of geezers that are your close friends. But our friendship, our trust, it’s something I hold special.”

“Well, sure you do. I’d not expect less.”

“But I don’t know everything about you. And sometimes I sense that there are things that burden you that you may need to let out.”

“Everything about me? Everything is a big word. Everything? Who knows everything about anyone, Padre?”

“Point well taken. But something is weighing on you. You know, Angus, you can’t always solve other people’s problems for them, even when you think you can. Which you often do.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure where you’re going with that, Padre.”

“Maybe you know. Maybe you don’t. But no matter. Is there something, small or big, that you need to talk about today? Need, so you don’t let it get so heavy on your chest that breathing gets difficult? That kind of need?”

Angus leaned back in his chair, a gnarled hand caressing his thick beard. He looked past the priest, his eyes focusing on a movement beyond the deck to movement coming from behind cottages. A coyote or deer come to visit. But no. He grinned to himself as he noticed the hoodie on the figure’s head. A hiker made more sense.

He turned his thoughts back to the priest, allowing his words to lie there between them. The comfortable silence between the friends took over, but this time weighted with a feeling that was new.

Father Northcutt’s voice was matter of fact when he spoke again. “I don’t pry. You know that, Angus. It’s not my way. I’m only asking because there’s something big on that mind of yours, something beyond this birthday party coming up.”

Angus was quiet, nodding slightly.

Father Northcutt went on. “And if I can’t help ease the heaviness that it may be bringing to my good friend, then I’m not much of a friend. I’ve got ears, old man. And shoulders that can take over some of the load, if need be.”

Angus looked out at the endless ocean in front of them, as if his thoughts were surfing the waves, tossing and turning. Finally, he sighed, feeling a shift inside him, a not unpleasant one.

“It’s not a confession, if that’s what you’re expecting, Larry. I’m not into that sort of thing. You know that.”

The priest chuckled. “Good Lord in heaven, I don’t think I could handle listening to you in the confessional. It’d take a much younger heart and mind than mine.”

That brought a throaty laugh from Angus, followed by a swallow of the last drops of whiskey.

He set the glass back down and shifted in his chair, welcoming the early evening sky, letting it soothe his skin and his mind.

Finally, he looked directly at the man sitting next to him and said, “Okay, my old whiskey-drinking clerical buddy, buckle up. I’m about to take you on a ride.”

Charlie Chambers walked across the Endicott family room. He paused at the open doors to the deck and waved to the group of friends gathered outside. Old seventies tunes played from the speakers, mixing with the talk and laughter and click of glasses.

Standing at the kitchen island, Izzy spotted her younger brother and dropped her salad tongs. She hurried over and hugged him. “Hey, I’m glad you came. You’ve missed the last few Friday nights. We were beginning to think you were avoiding us.”

“Never, not a chance.” Charlie handed her the bottle of wine he’d brought. “It’s been busy at the clinic.”

She looked around him, then back, “You’re alone.”

Charlie looked over his shoulder in mock surprise. “As far as I know. Is that okay, Iz? I could go out and find someone.”

“Of course it’s okay. I thought that maybe this time you’d bring Annie Smith. You know our aunt and uncle welcome that new friends on Uncle Ben’s grilling nights. So I thought …” She shrugged. “Maybe she was busy?”

“Hey, Iz. Aren’t I enough for you?” Charlie’s lopsided grin made him look like a kid again, rather than just a few years younger than his sister. His eyes shifted back to the wide deck, where Sam Perry and Ben were stoking coals in between mixing martinis. The strong garlicky scent of grilled steak floated inside.

“See what you’ve been missing?” Izzy said.

“Grilling on the Endicott deck is my idea of paradise, Izzy,” he said. “Microwaved mac and cheese gets to me after a while.”

“And you’ve changed the subject. But just so you know, I’d like to meet your roommate, Charlie. She’s been her in the shop a couple times and Mae she buys great yarn. She likes her. I followed her out of the shop one day to introduce myself, but by the time I got to the street, she had climbed on a bike and disappeared.”

“Into thin air?” Charlie asked.

Izzy ignored her brother. “All I could see of her were her long legs. Runner’s legs pedaling at great speed.”

“They’re good-looking legs, right?” Charlie asked, brows lifted.

“Anyway. We have things in common. Knitting. Running. She’s been here for weeks now?” Izzy refrained from releasing her most pressing thoughts: And, good grief, she’s living with you, Charlie Chambers. Shouldn’t we be getting to know one another?

At that moment, and to Charlie’s visible relief, a small white-haired woman rushed over and wrapped her arms around Charlie’s muscled football frame. Her fingertips barely touched one another behind him. “Oh, my dear boy,” she said. “I’m so happy you came.”

Charlie laughed and lifted Birdie Favazza off the floor, hugging her back.

“Geesh, Birdie,” Cass Halloran yelled over from her spot near the kitchen sink. “Charlie’s old news. What’s with the hugs? I don’t get them.”

“Oh, pshaw,” Birdie said, waving away Cass’s words.

“You back off, Halloran,” Charlie challenged. “I like these hugs. Besides, I’m Birdie’s favorite. Everyone knows that.”

Nell walked in from the deck, catching the tail end of Charlie’s retort. “Those hugs are Birdie’s sweet way of telling you how happy she is that Lily Virgilio has hired you and brought you back to us again.” She gave Charlie a hug of her own. “And our wish is that you’ll stay with us forever this time.”

“Ah, forever,” Charlie said. “There’s that word again. It sounds like some kind of a disease.” Then he added, with the solemnity of a preacher, “We need to live in this present moment, my dear favorite aunt. The future doesn’t exist.”

“You’re hopeless,” Birdie said. “All of us need to settle down at some point, don’t we? And if it’s not in your Kansas hometown or some country too far away for me to drop in with a freshly baked pie, what better place could it be than our little piece of paradise here?” Birdie chuckled, rubbing Charlie’s arm.

Although Birdie was teasing, they were all aware of Charlie Chambers’s history. He’d nearly perfected his severe case of wanderlust in the dozen years since he’d graduated from college. He’d worked in orphanages and NGOs and everything in between before completing a nursing degree. His coming back to work for the free health clinic last spring had been a welcome surprise to all of them. Izzy’s brother was well liked.

“A great guy,” his Sea Harbor buddies had said.

“A humanitarian,” others had remarked.

“Hallelujah,” his relatives and their good friends had said.

Sometimes his aunt’s thoughts took a different route. A lost soul, she occasionally thought, remembering a time in his life when he’d been exactly that. But she kept those thoughts silent, letting the Charlie standing before her, looking more stable, directed, and wonderful, be who he was. The Charlie who may have finally found himself.

“About the woman with the legs,” Izzy said, nudging her brother with an elbow.

But Nell saved the moment, asking Charlie to help her slice some loaves of bread on the island. “I need an update on my friend Angus. You’re keeping an eye on him, Doc Lily says. That’s a good thing. I hope the preparations for his birthday aren’t causing him stress.”

“Angus? No way.” Charlie helped himself to a beer from the refrigerator, then straddled a stool next to Nell. He picked up a knife and began to slice the bread. “He seems to be doing okay. I don’t have anyone to compare him to, since he’s the only almost one-hundred-year-old I know. He’s sharp, great to talk to. We go for short walks up to the center from his house. People come out of the woodwork to say hello. Yesterday it was his Harbor Road buddies.”

“Who?”

“You know. The. Harry Garozzo, Gus from the hardware store, old Henry Staab and Jake Risso. Sometimes Hery’ll pick him up, and they meet at Risso’s tavern. The fab five. Anyway, Angus is insisting they sing at his party. Lots of arguments on that deck, let me tell you. But I think they’re helping keep each other young.” Charlie took a long drink of beer, then sliced another piece of bread.

“Angus loves all that—arguing, laughing, reliving old times,” Birdie said, leaning in to the conversation. “But he’s slowing down. Having a huge party in one’s honor would drive me to a cave to hide in.”

“Fat chance,” Charlie chuckled. “You’d be leading the band, Birdie. But, anyway, Doc Lily, Annie Smith, and I keep an eye on him. He’s on a couple of meds, nothing unusual for his age. I feel lucky the doc has asked us to check in on him. He’s told me stories about Cape Ann that’d curl your toes.”

Nell laughed. “I think he tailors his stories to his audience. You probably get the more raucous ones.”

“Raunchy, you mean. Yeah, I think I do.”

“You do know that those stories have been embellished over his one hundred years,” Birdie added.

“That’s the best part of it,” Cass said. “Danny says the stories get better with each telling.” She took a piece of slice of bread from Charlie and slathered it with warm Brie.

“And your hubby eggs him on, Cass. I hear them. He wants Danny to write a book about him that will make him famous, but he’s made him promise to not do it until he’s left the planet.”

“Probably because if it comes out while he’s still alive, he’d be run out of town,” Cass said.

“No joke,” Charlie said.

“Between his stories and the photos of Angus’s life that Sam is taking, it’ll be a Sea Harbor history like no other. They have so many photos now that Brenda Owens at the community center has had to clear space in her office,” Cass said.

“They have some from his early days, too,” Izzy said. “Don’t know how they got them, but Sam is quite a researcher.”

“Yeah, Sam’s great,” Charlie said. “You married well, sis. The way he photographs Angus and the gulls is fascinating. I think the gulls actually preen when Sam shows up with his camera. Half the time Sam stands off in the shade and snaps away. Angus doesn’t even know he’s there.”

“It’s Angus’s Libra aura, Sam told me,” Birdie added. “Kind and generous and loving people.”

“Speaking of Libras, Izzy,” Nell interrupted, “your birthday is getting buried in this one hundredth birthday planning.”

“Thank heavens,” Izzy said. “Besides, I’m on the cusp. Part Scorpio.”

“Ah, Charlie said, “that’s right. Passionate and intense, right?”

Izzy was about to retort when Jane Brewster walked in and placed one of her special charcuterie platters on the island. Balls of burrata cheese and fresh herbs created a pleasing pattern with asparagus spears, endive, and fresh beans. The platter itself was a work of art, expertly thrown on a wheel, painted, and fired by the artist in her Canary Cove studio.

Jane’s husband, Ham, also an artist and Jane’s co-founder of the art colony, was several steps behind her. He paused briefly, greeting everyone, then claimed that Ben and the sound of his martini shaker needed him on the deck.

“I can tell that you’re talking about the man of the hour,” Jane said. “Isn’t this all so great?” She took off her jacket, tucked her salt-and-pepper hair behind her ears, and stuck out her chest proudly.

Jane grinned as they stared at her.

The artist was wearing an extra-large T-shirt boasted a screened image of Angus McPherron’s wonderful old face. Below the image, guarded by two gulls, were the scripted words We Love Our Old Man of the Sea in brilliant ocean colors.

“It’s perfect,” Izzy said.

“That’s good, because I have ones for all of you and the munchkins, too. We have all sizes.” Jane stepped back to breathe more freely.

“I almost don’t want the old man to turn a hundred,” Cass said. She took a drink of Charlie’s beer. “It’s somehow way too ominous a number.”

“Think of it as magical,” Jane said, dramatizing her words with her fingers, her ample body moving and her long full skirt waving in the breeze.

“Angus is ready for it,” Birdie said. “Singing and music, speeches … Father Larry told me yesterday about the special whiskey tent they’re putting up outside the community center. Leave it to the padre to cater to his friend’s favorite things.”

“Our customers are crocheting and knitting gulls like crazy,” Izzy said. “When has this town ever honored those birds? Angus is probably the only person in Sea Harbor who hasn’t had a sandwich snatched out of his hand by one of them.”

Charlie laughed. “They respect the old guy.” He looked out at the deck. “Oops, looks like my uncle needs me.” With that, he disappeared, along with the cheese platter Cass had been picking at.

“It’s true about the gulls,” Birdie said. “Angus named them.”

Izzy looked around and noticed that Charlie had disappeared outside. She frowned, grabbed some salad tongs, and began mixing a green salad with unusual vigor.

“You okay?” Cass asked. She picked up a cherry tomato that had flown out of the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “Looks like those lettuce leaves have done something nasty to you.”

Izzy stopped tossing. “No. Sorry. It’s just that sometimes Charlie is as irritating as he was when he was sixteen. He needs to grow up.”

“What? He’s charming.”

“Hah. It irritates you, too, Cass. Being so blasted secretive about his life, the way he is.”

“Brothers can be like that. I hear we sisters can be a pain, too, or so my brother Pete tells me.”

Nell listened from across the room, her thoughts traveling back to memories of Izzy and Charlie as teenagers standing in their Kansas City kitchen, arguing. Even back then, Charlie had evaded personal questions with great finesse and always with charm. He’d done it with his mother and father and older brother, but most often with his sister, although Nell suspected the two of them were the closest and had a special bond hidden somewhere beneath it all. Which maybe was why Izzy felt entitled to know everything about her brother’s life. School issues, friends, and most especially things that involved a romantic attachment. She’d obviously not let go of that role.

“It’s Annie Smith that’s bothering you, right?” Nell asked.

Izzy wrinkled her forehead and stared down at the salad, then looked up at her aunt. “I suppose so, if I can be bothered by someone I’ve not officially met. She seems to have dropped in out of nowhere and now is living with my brother. Why? And why doesn’t he bring her around? I—”

Izzy’s words were cut off by the old brass dinner bell just outside the deck door.

Ben opened one of the French doors and waved everyone onto the deck for dinner.

Immediately, bodies scurried around the island, gathering plates, salad, and extras to take out to the old teak table beneath the maple tree that grew through the deck.

“Lily,” Nell exclaimed, spotting the doctor on the opposite side of the deck, deep in conversation with Sam. She hadn’t noticed her coming in. Lily’s ob-gyn practice, along with her work at the free health clinic, made her appearance at a Friday night dinner a special event.

“I snuck by you,” Lily said, walking over and giving Nell a hug. “I haven’t seen Sam Perry since he did that fantastic photo shoot at the health clinic. I wanted to give him effusive praise in person. What talent that man has.”

“He’s helping with the big party, too.”

“I’ve heard that. Brenda at the community center keeps me up to date. Since the pictures are of Angus, she’s taking a vested interest in them. He’s quite important to her, as you may know.”

“Brenda has been a town loner, I think. When Angus hired her, it gave her a new lease on life.”

“That sounds like Angus. And at his age, it’s good to have people looking out for him.”

“You’re doing a good job of that, yourself, Lily. We are all grateful for that.”

“Your nephew is, too. Charlie’s a great help. And Annie Smith is too. She volunteers in the clinic sometimes and helps Charlie with Angus.”

“Well, let us spoil you tonight. Dinner will be good, I promise.”

“When Charlie mentioned that Ben’s famous steak tips were on the menu tonight, my stomach started growling.”

“Speaking of my fame,” Ben called over, waving his long grill fork, “it’s time to put the tips to the test. Time to stop talking about them and start eating.”

As if Ben had sounded a fire drill, all conversations ended instantly, replaced with scurrying bodies filling the benches that surrounded the old wooden table.

Angus was propped up in his wide bed, the window open a few inches, just the way he liked it. He looked up at the woman who had plumped the pillows for him, and smiled tiredly at her. “So, Annie my dear friend, you’ve done a fine job, if I say so myself. A woman’s touch is nice. How did you happen to get stuck with old man duty tonight?”

“What do you mean, get stuck with? I had to fight Charlie for it. Wait till you see his shiner. It’s not a pretty sight.” She pushed her wavy red hair back and twisted a band around it.

Angus chuckled. “My two buddies fighting over me. Life is good. Now, pull up a chair and talk to me. Why is Charlie playing hooky?”

Annie sat down and placed a delicate gold-rimmed teacup on his nightstand. She frowned at it. “This is a cup for a tea parties, Angus. It doesn’t look like you. Where did you get them?”

“Ah, you are probably right. They were here in this lovely place when I moved in. Decorating was not my thing.”

Annie laughed. “Well, I’ll bring you a surprise. A tea mug, specially made for my friend Angus. One not so fragile looking.”

“Surprises are always welcome. So back to Charlie. Where is he off to tonight?”

“It’s a dinner thing. A Friday night tradition of some sort. He hasn’t been able to go lately, and his sister is giving him trouble.”

“Ah, sure. Today must be Friday. Dinner on the Endicott deck. That’s a fine place to be. The Endicotts, Ben and Nell, are Izzy Perry and Charlie’s aunt and uncle. Finest people you’d ever want to meet. You should have gone with him.”

“What? And let that overpowering Brenda take over here? Never. She scares me.”

Angus’s laugh was full. “Yeah, she’s a tough lady.”

“She isn’t fond of me. Or Charlie, either. She shook a broom at him one day when she was cleaning your place.”

“That’s Brenda. Sometimes she’s a tad overprotective. But, anyway, Annie, the Endicotts and their friends are your kind of people. Next time, you must go.”

Annie stood up and twisted the lid off the pill vial without commenting. She handed Angus a glass of water and his pills, then sat back down. “I’m sorry if I was a little late tonight. My bike was to blame—the chain broke. And a presumably Good Samaritan saw me and was determined to give me help, which I really didn’t need. He was nice, but he knew very little about how to repair a bike chain. Nothing, in fact.”

Angus sipped his tea, enjoying listening to Annie talk. The chap was most likely someone he knew. And someone who had flirted with the attractive woman sitting next to him. “Well, who wouldn’t want to stop and help a beautiful lady? But you know there’s no early or late around here. Time is irrelevant to me most days.”

“It was selfish on my part. I enjoy our talks. And I promised Charlie I’d get here before you fell asleep.”

“You do know, Annie, that I am fully capable of taking these pills myself. Believe it or not, I even brush my own teeth, make coffee and even a mean BLT when the tomatoes are fresh. And sometimes I even dance by the light of the moon. Some fair evening, I will have you and Charlie come, and I’ll show you how.”

“It’s a date.” A smile came with her words, and Angus savored it. Annie didn’t do it enough. “And truly, I’m not at all surprised you can cook and dance. Charlie and I—and Doc Lily, too—are fully aware of your abilities. The truth is, Angus, it makes us feel useful. Me anyway. I like spending time with you. You ground me in an odd way when I’m with you. It’s a nice feeling.”

Annie leaned forward in the chair and looked him directly in the eye. “Besides that, who doesn’t like having someone come into their room before bedtime, turn out the lights, wish them a good night or a ‘sleep by the light of the moon’ or whatever you say. Who doesn’t like that?”

Angus watched Annie’s face as she talked. He suspected that Annie probably hadn’t had that kind of comforting good night herself.”

She had been a puzzle to him from the moment she’d first arrived in Sea Harbor those weeks ago. But he had never met a puzzle or a challenge that he didn’t like, especially the one sittin. . .