Clammed Up: A Maine Clambake Mystery Part 12

I waited.

"I told you that maid of honor called Michaela several times and left messages apologizing for their fight. But I've remembered she called someone else."

"Do you know who?"

"No, but she said something like, 'She's with Ray. Where do you think she is?' And then 'You need to come over here, right now.'"

Tony. It had to be. Add to it the evidence that his bed wasn't slept in that night and who else could it have been? But why would Lynn order Tony to come to the Snuggles? Wouldn't she have sent him out to look for Michaela and Ray?

"Did Lynn leave the inn that night?"

Fee pushed a hand through her short, gray hair. "I don't know. Remember, I fell asleep in the chair."

"So soundly you might not have heard the maid of honor going out or coming in?"

Fee blushed. "Well, I didn't hear Michaela come in, did I? And yet there she was in the morning." The older woman put a steadying hand on my shoulder and stepped back to admire her handiwork. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I looked across our front yard, which was dotted with irregularly shaped flowerbeds. In one, bright pink peonies blazed in contrast to cool purple irises. In the shade, astilbe bloomed among the variegated greens of hosta. In the sun, yellow day lilies reached for the sky and red roses climbed the side of the garage. When had all this bloomed? I'd been so heads-down busy and obsessively worried about the clambake, I hadn't even noticed.

"It's beautiful, Fee," I said, giving her a little hug.

Now what had I come home for? Oh, yes, I was in a hurry to get to a funeral.

"Julia!" Michaela was at the back of the nondescript, 1960s Catholic Church when I entered for Ray's funeral. She threw her arms around me and hugged tight, confirming my suspicion that she really needed a friend. She led me to one of the very front pews, just behind the couple I took to be Ray's parents. I hadn't known Ray Wilson when he was alive, and I wouldn't have presumed to sit in such a prominent spot if I'd been on my own, but I was there to support Michaela, so I followed her lead. Not long after we settled into our seats, an elderly priest and an adolescent altar girl took their places on the dais and the organ began a slow, sad hymn.

The doors at the back of the church opened and six men entered, standing beside the flower-draped coffin. Tony was at the front right corner as they wheeled Ray Wilson's body slowly down the center aisle. I could tell at a glance Tony's suit was worth more than the total cost of what the other pallbearers wore.

As I stared back up the aisle, following the coffin's progress, I was surprised to see a woman I recognized scuttle into the next-to-last row. Marie Halsey, Sarah's mother. What is she doing here? I'd wondered just that morning if she and Sarah were from Bath. Marie's presence seemed to confirm it. I looked around to see if Binder or Flynn or even one of the local Busman's officers was there, but couldn't spot anyone.

The coffin made its slow progression to the front of the church where the pallbearers turned it over to the care of the priest. Some of them genuflected before they made their way to the front pew opposite Ray's parents, though Tony did not. The priest welcomed the mourners and we moved into the funeral ma.s.s. A young woman who may have been a cousin read some lines from the Bible. Next to me, Michaela snuffled and wiped her eyes. Beside her, Tony's mother sat with the same disgruntled expression she'd worn the morning of the nonwedding. She looked as if she longed to run up on the altar and explain to the priest what he was doing wrong. Tony's father sighed.

Tony ascended to the lectern to give the eulogy. He removed a folded piece of paper from his suit pocket, spreading it carefully in front of him, though once he started speaking, he never glanced at it. "Ray Wilson was my best friend," he began. "He was my business partner, and my brother." Tony's voice broke slightly.

I felt Michaela quiver beside me as she fought unsuccessfully to hold back her tears. She gripped my hand.

"We found each other in Mrs. Kearney's kindergarten cla.s.s right here in Bath. Ray came up to me on the first day and announced that we would be best friends and would play together at every recess. How did he know, at five years old, that we'd be able to accomplish so much, good and bad, together?

"On the good side of the ledger, there was the basketball championship we finally brought home for the Shipbuilders in our senior year, the college scholarships we both earned as a result, and the successful business we built together.

"But there was also the trouble we got into. The time we snuck through the woods into the Pick Your Own Strawberries field and ate so many we couldn't run away when the farmer came to yell at us. Or the time we took two lovely ladies down to the beach to watch the sunset and got Ray's car stuck in the sand so badly, his dad had to come rescue us with a tow truck."

The congregation laughed. In front of us, I watched Ray's father pat his mother's back as she wiped away a tear. Her profile turned to me, I caught the hint of a smile. Tony's mom continued to glower.

"Those are just the stories I can repeat here," Tony said. "Everyone saw Ray as the troublemaker. My parents blamed him. His parents blamed him. And the truth is, he was the instigator and the talker. The one who thought of the ideas and the one who tried to talk our way out of it when things went terribly wrong. But it took both of us to get into that much trouble, just like it took both of us to build our business. That's why I stand before you, feeling like I've been cut in half, like my own limbs are missing." Tony's voice broke and the congregation quieted.

"Those of you who knew Ray well know his troubles didn't end when we were boys. He had his demons, and he did some things in his life he deeply regretted." Tony words were thick with grief. "That's the greatest shame in all this sadness. Ray tried for so long to be a better man, and at last he was succeeding. He'd cleaned up his life, and far from making him less fun, sobriety made him more fun, more enthusiastic. More eager to embrace life and live it for all it was worth. Ray had just begun what I am sure would have been the very best part of his life."

Sobriety? Ray was drunk the night he was murdered.

At the lectern, Tony continued. "And now, he'll miss it all. I won't be the best man at his wedding. Our children won't play together as we'd dreamed. We won't continue our cutthroat golf games until we're too old to hold a club, as we'd planned." Tony was openly weeping as was almost everyone in the church.

I put my arm around Michaela and hugged her shaking shoulders.

Tony left the lectern and moved down to pat the wooden coffin lid. "I love you, Ray," he whispered.

The priest took the reins and somehow we stumbled through the rest of the ma.s.s. When we gave our neighbors the sign of the peace, I turned and looked back at Marie Halsey. She stood alone in the next-to-last pew. Behind her was someone even more surprising-Lynn, the maid of honor. What is she doing here? She didn't have a good word to say about Ray when he was alive. Is she here at last to support Michaela?

Finally, the ma.s.s was over. The priest invited everyone back to Tony's parents' house after the graveside service. The coffin, flanked by the pallbearers, rumbled up the center aisle.

Outside the church, the men from the funeral parlor loaded the coffin into the hea.r.s.e. The maid of honor went up to Tony's parents and hugged each of them warmly. It was not the greeting of relative strangers. There's history there, I thought.

A few people who weren't going to the cemetery approached Ray's parents. They shook hands, accepted embraces, and were gracious as two people could be in the circ.u.mstances . . . until Marie Halsey approached them. When Ray's mother saw Marie coming, she whirled around, turning her back. There was no mistaking Mrs. Wilson's intention. She meant to cut Marie Halsey dead.

And if that wasn't enough of a snub, Tony's mom's voice cut through the noise of the crowd. "I can't believe you would even come here!"

Chapter 32.

I stayed through the graveside service and went to the reception at Tony's parents' house. Michaela was largely left alone while Tony and his family played host. Tony's mom served a fussy tea with little sandwiches and cakes, which seemed incongruous given Ray and Tony's high school friends, the fishermen and ironworkers who made up most of the guests.

I sat with Michaela on the deck of the neat ranch house, wondering where Lynn was. Once again, her maid of honor was AWOL when Michaela needed support.

I didn't intend to talk to Michaela about our interrupted conversation of the day before. The funeral had been tough enough for her. So I was surprised that she was the one who brought it up.

"I want to apologize for the way I acted yesterday when we talked about Ray," Michaela said.

"It's nothing," I said and meant it. If anything, I should have been the one to apologize for asking if she'd had an inappropriate relationship with the best man in her wedding party.

"No. I was rude. Overwrought. I'm just so emotional . . . with all that's happened." Michaela spread her gorgeous, long fingers on her knees. "I want to talk about my relationship with Ray. He's dead. Nothing I say will hurt him." Her nails dug into the dark fabric of her skirt. "Before you can understand about Ray, there are some things I need to tell you that you don't know about me."

She paused for so long I wondered if she would go on. But she did. "I started drinking in college, just the normal way normal people do. Except, I didn't know then, I'm not normal. I partied pretty hard, but so did everyone around me. After college, a whole bunch of us moved to Brooklyn, where we made more friends and kept going out. Every night I got drunk and every morning I woke up feeling terrible, but it was my life and I didn't question it." She looked into my eyes, making sure I was getting it.

Nothing I heard surprised me. Most people drank too much in college and some people continued drinking hard into their twenties. That's where I'd first met Michaela years ago, in clubs around Manhattan.

She took a deep breath and went on. "What I didn't notice was, the gang was breaking up. The others started having careers instead of jobs and didn't go out during the week. They had serious relationships and got married and by then they were only going out on holidays and special occasions. But not me. I was still getting drunk every night and working at the same stupid retail job I found when I first went to the city. I'd had dreams of working in the fashion business, but got totally sidetracked.

"I went to the same neighborhood dive, drank my dinner, and stayed out way too late every night. The bar was a comfortable place where 'everybody knew my name.' But one night, I had a moment of clarity. I looked around and realized who 'everybody' was. People who were alone, working in dead-end jobs, if they worked at all, with no friends or sign of any life outside that barroom. I saw a woman about ten years older, who'd been drinking across the bar from me for two years, and it was like looking at my future self. The smudged makeup, the unsteady hands. It was terrifying.

"I left the bar and found a meeting. AA. It's been a huge struggle, but I haven't had a drink in three years. That's where I met Ray. It was his first meeting, too." Michaela smiled at the memory. "I know it's supposed to be anonymous, and that's why I didn't tell you yesterday when we talked. But actually, Ray was quite open about what he'd been through.

"We were drawn to each other immediately. Ray made me laugh. After I'd been sober a year, Ray introduced me to Tony, and that was it. Love at first sight. Since I'd gotten sober, I'd changed jobs . . . from clerk to a.s.sistant buyer, something with a future, and I was working my way up in my company. At last, I was ready for a serious relationship. Tony and I have been together ever since that first date." Michaela's features softened, warmed by the memory of meeting Tony for the first time.

"Ray and Tony got more and more successful. Ray was the salesman, in charge of persuading the property owners to sell them the land, and then marketing the resorts to upscale buyers. Tony's the numbers guy and also oversees the planning and construction. Ray had been a college drinker like me, a little wild even as a kid, as you heard today. And then, as an adult, his job reinforced his tendencies. He was always wining and dining people. So it was hard for him to stop drinking. He had a much harder time of it than I did. There were lapses, some ugly scenes. He was a belligerent drunk. People judged him."

Certainly Lynn, the maid of honor, had. How many times and in how many ways had she said to Michaela, "Forget him. He's not worth it."

"But I saw how hard Ray tried," Michaela said. "Before that night in Crowley's, he hadn't had a drink in a year. I was shocked by his behavior. It was like someone had flipped a switch and brought back the old, crazy, drunk Ray. I was desperately worried about him. Not just because he'd fallen off the wagon, which was bad enough, but also because his years of drinking caused health issues. Drinking could kill him."

The blood in Chris's cab and down the front of Ray's shirt. "Is that what you and Ray fought about at Crowley's? His drinking?"

"Yes. I begged him to stop."

"And why you called him on his cell after you'd gone back to the Snuggles?"

"Yes. I saw where his behavior was headed. I wanted to help."

"You left the Snuggles to meet him? Where did you go?" I felt bad for pressing her, but she'd initiated the conversation.

"Nowhere. We walked along Main Street and talked."

"You were gone from the Snuggles Inn for at least a couple hours. It's hard to believe you and Ray just walked along Main Street all that time. It's four blocks long."

"I don't know what to tell you, Julia. We found a bench outside the hardware store and talked. The last time I saw Ray, he was alive, slightly more sober and headed back to his hotel. I wish I could help. I want Ray's killer arrested, too."

We sat quietly for a moment. Michaela stared through the picture window into the living room. I followed her gaze. Lynn stood with Tony and his parents, deep in conversation.

"She was Tony's college girlfriend." Michaela answered the question I hadn't asked. "She's had trouble adjusting to the idea of me. And trouble letting Tony go, though they hadn't been a couple for years by the time I came along. Tony was a big jock on campus when they dated, but I don't think Lynn ever imagined he'd make so much money. He's the one that got away."

"But why-?"

Michaela smiled. "When you give up drinking, you give up your drinking companions. I'm still building new friendships. Lynn is important to Tony. Besides, as they say, keep your friends close-"

"And your enemies closer," I finished.

Michaela laughed. "Honestly, I'm fine with her. I really am." She sat back in her deck chair, her posture relaxed.

She was through talking about Ray, but I still had something I needed to know. "That night, when you went to meet Ray, did you run into Tony?"

"Tony? No. He was at the Bellevue."

"No, Michaela, he wasn't. His bed there wasn't slept in. Lynn called him from the Snuggles and asked him to meet her."

Michaela's brown eyes flashed beneath her thick lashes. "What are you implying?" She said it so loudly, the few other people on the deck turned to stare at us. It was the same quick mood change I'd seen in her the last time we'd talked, the fiery temper buried down deep.

"I'm not implying anything. I a.s.sumed Tony and Lynn went out looking for you."

"Where did you hear this? Who told you these lies?" Michaela shouted.

Through the picture window I saw people in the house turn their heads. Tony's mother stared at us, openmouthed.

I remembered, much too late, the old adage about killing the messenger. "Michaela-"

"I think you should go," she commanded.

"I'm sorry," I said, and I really was. I slunk off the deck and walked to my car, wishing I could make myself invisible.

Chapter 33.

Back in Busman's Harbor, I put my mother's car in her garage and went along to Gus's. It was late in the afternoon. I hadn't eaten anything at Tony's house. I hadn't expected to be leaving so soon.

When I walked through Gus's door, I couldn't help glancing at our booth to see if Chris was there. It was Wednesday, not one of our days and not even lunchtime, so it was a completely unreasonable hope. I realized how much I'd depended on him the last few months. I'd thought Michaela was the one who needed a friend. After she'd dismissed me so abruptly, I realized that maybe I needed one, too.

I wandered to the counter and sat down. The place was almost empty, not unusual for that time of day. I ordered a burger and fries. Gus turned to work the grill.

"Well look who's here." Quentin Tupper III stood beside me. I'd been so absorbed in my own misery, I hadn't heard him come in. He sat down on the stool next to me. He wore a rumpled blue b.u.t.ton-down shirt, khaki shorts, and leather boat shoes, a very different uniform than the few other men in the restaurant. He looked like he'd gotten off one of the yachts in the harbor, come to gawk at the locals.

"You gave me a newspaper," I said rather stupidly. Last night, I'd searched in vain for him on the Internet and here he was in the flesh.

"I was leaving town. You seemed like you wanted it."

Yeah, right. He found out where I lived and came over to deliver a used newspaper that he could have far more easily thrown away because I seemed like I wanted it?

"There were two pages with corners turned down," I said. "The page with Tony and Michaela's wedding announcement and the page with the article about Tony and Ray's business. Like you were calling them to my attention."

He nodded, affirming it had been deliberate.

"Why?"

"I thought you should know."

"You thought I should know?" He was irritating me.

"I thought you should know about what Wilson and Poitras were really up to. Their plans for your island."

Gus put the burger down in front of me. The fries were still cooking. Gus didn't believe all the items you ordered had to arrive simultaneously.

"Why didn't you just give me the newspaper while we were here? Or for that matter, just tell me Ray and Tony were in the business of building resorts on private islands?"

Tupper shifted on his counter stool. "You didn't tell me your last name. I didn't know who you were until after you left. Then Gus told me. Don't thank me, by the way."

Gus had his back to us as he pulled the potatoes from the fryer. I was never quite sure how much he picked up of the conversations that went on around him while he was working. He didn't suffer fools gladly, and I bet he blocked out most of it. About eighty percent of what he'd overhear would drive him crazy. But I thought I saw him stop for just a second and snap his head to the side very slightly, as if trying to dislodge water from his ear.

"Thank you for what?" I asked Quentin. "For your cryptic messages I might never have found?"

"Suit yourself. Like I said. I just thought you should know. " Tupper placed his order with Gus and toddled off toward a booth.

"Bull crackers," Gus said as soon as Tupper was out of earshot. "I never told him who you were. Couldn't have. He left before you did, remember? And don't let him fool you with that disinterested party routine. He owns that horrible gla.s.s monstrosity out on Westclaw Point, right across from your island."