Murder in Hum Harbour Page 6

  “How would he find out? I’d never tell.”

  I stuffed my hands deep into my pockets. “I think you should look for yours before we start plotting.”

  “But if I can’t find mine, will you help me, Gailynn?”

  The shop’s doorbell rang and I jumped. It felt like God had sounded a warning buzzer from heaven.

  “Please?” Sasha said again.

  “Sasha, you back there?” I recognized Vi Murray’s voice. She could be very persistent.

  “You better go and see what Vi wants,” I told Sasha. “And I have to get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

  My stomach in knots, I escaped the flower shop and ran back to the clinic. Lord, what am I going to do now?

  I couldn’t lie. The very thought made my stomach clench in panic.

  It was just Sasha’s depression talking. She wasn’t thinking clearly, that’s why she’d suggested it. My earrings were close at hand while hers were somewhere in her house and it would take more effort to hunt them down than she had energy for. But if she didn’t hunt them down, Andrew threatened to come looking with a search warrant. Imagine what a mess he’d make, snooping through every nook and cranny of Sasha’s big old house. And then she’d have to put everything back when he was done. Sam wouldn’t help. It would never enter his fat head to lift a hand around the house and help Sasha.

  Lie? I shook my head. I might avoid the truth, but I worked very hard to never openly lie.

  Though it wasn’t as if Sasha was guilty of anything. If anyone was guilty it was me. I mean, Sasha’s depression was really my fault. Sure she said it wasn’t, but that was friendship talking, not truth. If Sasha was willing to turn a blind eye to my part in her miscarriage, shouldn’t I be willing to make sacrifices, too? Was it really lying to let Sasha borrow my earrings?

  “Are you planning to stand there all day?”

  Geoff’s question snapped me out of my thoughts and I found myself in the clinic’s open doorway, hanging onto the doorknob as if it were some kind of lifeline.

  I blinked a couple of times and pried my fingers loose. “Thinking.”

  “Must be important.”

  I stepped inside and shut the door. Afternoon clinic hours would begin soon. Already one mom and toddler occupied the waiting room.

  “I stopped by McKenna’s to see Sasha,” I said. “I guess Andrew’d been by this morning.”

  “How’s she doing?” Geoff asked in a hushed voice.

  With the racket her daughter was making, I doubt the Mom could hear us, anyway.

  I wasn’t sure what to tell Sasha’s brother about our conversation. “I’m worried. Andrew thinks she’ll probably snap out of her depression now that Doc’s gone but…” I hesitated. “I think she’s worse. Could you talk to her?”

  Geoff propped his hip against the corner of my desk. “Believe me, I’ve tried but she and Sam have built such a wall around themselves. They’re hurt and angry, and I understand, but until they’re ready to let someone in, there’s not much I can do.”

  I frowned. Geoff sounded content to sit back and wait. Maybe he was right. Maybe that was the wisest thing to do and I should wait, too. But when have I ever been wise?

  Before I had opportunity to ponder that bit of self-recrimination, the little girl in the waiting room threw up all over her mother. From that point on my afternoon was filled with seemingly more urgent concerns.

  After the last patient went home, Geoff and I stacked the waiting room furniture in the back room. The janitor had to shampoo the carpets overnight. Cramming plastic chairs against the bank of filing cabinets, I remembered Geoff’s suggestion I check Doc’s files for his copy of the Hum Harbour Holes Agreement. Last night I was busy transcribing Geoff’s version of Doc’s autopsy report. Tonight, obviously, would not be the night, either. That was OK with me because I had other plans.

  10

  Sometime during the afternoon, I’d made a decision. I couldn’t tell Geoff about Sasha’s suggestion we lie about her earrings; that would breach her trust, but I could act on it. Once I was done with work, I waved good-bye to Geoff and trotted to my cousin, Mimi’s place.

  Mimi would have something among her stock of medicinal herbs to combat Sasha’s depression. And if it came in tea form, I was sure Sasha would drink it without questioning its hidden benefits.

  As I pushed open the white picket gate, Mimi’s dogs barked from her garden. They raced towards me between the rows of bright green clumps of new growth. April rains might bring May flowers in the rest of the world, but in Nova Scotia, May plants are mostly unidentifiable globs of promise. At least to me.

  Mimi followed her dogs. She wore muddy jeans, one of Mike’s plaid work shirts and orange plastic garden clogs. Her three dachshunds, Oscar, Meyer and Frank, beat her down the hill and threw themselves at my ankles, tummies up.

  I hunkered down and rubbed them.

  Mimi wiped her hands on her shirttail. “What brings you here?” she asked after we hugged.

  “I’m looking for professional help.”

  Her eyebrows disappeared under her auburn bangs.

  “For Sasha.”

  “Ah.” She led me inside her plant room without further ado.

  Just as I’m not sure about Mimi’s official title, I’m never sure what to call her room. An apothecary? A drying room? A workshop? An office? It has shelves full of labeled bottles, racks suspended from the ceiling which, at various times of year, overflow with bundles of dead plants. An old steel office desk is pushed into one corner. No computer, just a manual typewriter and a Rolodex. In the centre of the room, her wooden worktable, an ancient butcher-block, is marred from years of use. At the moment, it held two mortar and pestles of different sizes. The larger bowl contained lavender, which I knew from the scent. The smaller held something hard and black like peppercorns.

  “The S’s had a row last night,” she said, meaning Sam and Sasha. My brother and his wife lived directly downhill from Mike and Mimi, the M’s. “I had the bedroom window open and they woke me up.”

  “What was wrong?”

  “I’ve gotten to the point that I just shut out their words and start praying for them, instead.”

  I was aghast that Sam and Sasha’s fights were such a common occurrence that Mimi had developed a habitual response. “How often do they fight?”

  She shrugged. “Last night was worse than usual. Have you looked around town, Gailynn? It’s like Doc’s dying lifted the lid off Pandora’s Box. Everyone’s at each other’s throats. It’s as if we’re all afraid.”

  I shivered. Mimi knew the pulse of our community. Nothing happened in Hum Harbour she didn’t hear about—usually before any of the rest of us. “Afraid of what?”

  “Just keep your doors locked, little cousin, and pray.”

  She washed her hands at the sink and dried them on a tea towel. “Instead of Sasha, maybe you could give something to Sam.” She showed me a jar of mixed herbs. “I give this to the boys.” I assumed she meant her dogs, not the men in her family. “It keeps them from wandering, if you know what I mean.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think that’s a problem. Sam loves Sasha. He’s just being a jerk right now.”

  Mimi’s brows shot up and I corrected myself. “OK, more of a jerk. I want something to help Sasha fight this depression she’s in. You have something that will help, don’t you?”

  “My stock’s a little low right now, but I’m sure I can find something.”

  Mimi checked five containers before she found two with enough stuff inside. She dragged out another mortar and pestle and began blending and crushing what she’d selected. Fragrance filled the room. She told me what the stuff was, but I honestly didn’t pay much attention. Dead plants are all the same to me.

  “I’m afraid there’s not enough to make capsules but at least I can give you a tea. My new stock should be here any day. I’ll let you know.”

  “Where do you order from?”

  “All over. If it’s f
rom a Canadian grower, I order directly, but if I want something from outside Canada I get Sasha to order on my behalf. The flower shop imports a lot of plant stuffs, depending on the time of year. Sasha piggybacks my order to theirs. It cuts down on my cost.”

  She pulled out a small tin with a seascape stamped on the outside, and dumped in the crushed leaves.

  “I added mint to the mix since I know how fond Sasha is of mint tea. She can drink this as often as she likes.”

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “For Sasha, nothing. It’s the least I can do.” Mimi snapped the lid on the tin and slipped it into a pretty blue-and-white gift bag. “Give this to Sasha with my compliments and like I said, when I have the other things I’ll call you or drop it by Dunmaglass.”

  I departed, gift in hand. I’d wanted something stronger than tea, I mean, Sasha sure needed the help, but Mimi’s tea was better than nothing. Hopefully it would take the edge off Sasha’s misery. I smiled to myself, imagining what Doc would say. He’d been a firm believer in medicinal whisky for taking the edge off.

  ****

  Sasha and Sam’s house is a two-minute walk from Mimi’s. I went there next, planning to brew Sasha a pot of Mimi’s tea and help scour the house for her earrings. Even though I was sure she had nothing to do with Doc’s death, I couldn’t in good conscience lend her mine, but neither would I abandon her to Andrew when he was in his super-cop mode.

  Sam’s pickup was in the drive, unfortunately. Sam’s company is never conducive to confidential sharing.

  Banging once on the door, I let myself in. “It’s just me.”

  My oldest brother lumbered into the front hallway from the living room, cradling an open beer in his hand. Our parents held very strong views about drinking and we’d been raised in an alcohol-free home. Sam’s consumption of liquor was not the only parental dictate he’d spurned over the years.

  “Sasha’s still at the shop,” he said. No hello, no how you doin’ sis, just, Sasha’s not here.

  “The shop closed an hour ago,” I corrected him.

  “Then where is she?”

  Her shoes were by the door. If he’d bothered to look he would have seen as much. “Aren’t you worried about her, Sam? I am and so is Geoff.”

  “Well the two of you can mind your own business. Sasha and I’ll sort things out ourselves.”

  “It doesn’t seem to me like you are having a lot of success. Sam, she needs serious help before it’s too late.” I glanced towards the stairs. “Maybe she’s up there.”

  He swallowed his beer.

  “Have you checked?”

  “What for?”

  “Oh give me a break,” I said and pushed him aside. Mounting the stairs two at a time, I called her name. No one answered.

  I hadn’t been upstairs in six months, but at that moment I didn’t care how bad Sasha’s housekeeping was. Ignoring the unmade beds, overflowing dirty laundry hamper and turned out dresser drawers, I checked each room, including the permanently closed door at the end of the hall.

  To my unutterable surprise, when I opened it I discovered a magazine-perfect baby room. It was painted soft blue with a sponged rainbow curving from one wall across the ceiling to the other side, a Jenny Lind crib with this adorable little mobile, a change table stocked with unopened packages of disposable diapers, and a baby monitor on the painted dresser. Everything a brand new mom could possibly want in a nursery.

  Sam hauled me back and slammed the door in my face. “You have no right to snoop in our house.”

  “Well somebody has to,” I said and shoved him out of the way.

  For one brief second before Sam arrived, I glimpsed Sasha huddled in the rocker in the corner with a plush pink teddy bear crushed to her chest. Tears glazed her cheeks, smeared mascara the only color on her face.

  I pressed into the room and gathered Sasha into my arms. “Oh, baby,” I murmured, holding her close. “What happened? Has Andrew been here already?”

  Sasha silently uncurled her fisted fingers. One silver and violet seaglass earring rested on her palm.

  “Andrew? What’s he got to do with this?” my brother grunted.

  “If you took any notice of things beyond yourself, you would know. Andrew’s looking into Doc’s death. He questioned Sasha this morning. He’ll get to you, too, eventually.”

  Sam wouldn’t enter the baby’s room. “Sasha? What’s Sasha got to do with Doc?”

  “It’s both of you, you idiot. It was you’re bright idea to sue Doc, remember? Andrew is looking into everyone who might want Doc hurt, and your stupid lawsuit puts you and Sash at the top of the list.”

  Sam looked ready to run. Then he sucked in a deep breath and surged into the room.

  “She’s my wife. I’ll look after her,” he said, prying my hands from Sasha.

  “It’s too late for that, Sam. You go make us some of that tea I brought while I look after her. She’s got to pull herself together before Andrew turns up.”

  At that precise moment, the front door banged open, followed by heavy footsteps downstairs.

  “Hey, Sam, you here?” hollered Andrew.

  “Stall him,” I hissed. “Keep him downstairs till Sasha and I figure this out.”

  “Figure what out?”

  Andrew shouted up the stairs. “Hey, Sam, is that you?”

  I spun Sam around and pushed him out, shutting the door before he could react.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I heard Sam answer. “You may as well come on up, too. We’ve got some party happening.”

  I turned back to Sasha. “That’s it? You only found one earring?”

  She nodded mutely.

  “Does Andrew know?”

  She shook her head.

  I could hear Sam and Andrew arguing. So much for keeping Andrew downstairs until Sasha and I figured this out. Any moment he’d be barging through the door.

  “It’s no big deal if you’ve lost your earring, Sash. You have a legitimate reason for having been on Doc’s boat. It doesn’t implicate you in his death.”

  “Andrew won’t believe that. Please, just let me use your earring. He’ll never know the difference.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “It’s wrong.”

  Ignoring me, she tugged off my earring.

  I grabbed my empty earlobe in surprise. Sasha had actually ripped my earring right out of my ear. I reached for her hand but before I could nab it or say, “Give that back,” Andrew opened the door.

  “Ladies,” he said.

  I glanced at my sister-in-law, wondering if I looked as guilty as she did. I sure felt guilty.

  “Did you find your earrings?” Andrew asked her.

  Sasha held out a pair of seaglass earrings. I held my breath.

  Unfortunately, Andrew knew us too well. His eyebrow rose ever so slightly and he looked me square in the eye.

  “Gai?” Andrew read my reaction, and a very sad expression spread across his face.

  He tucked my hair behind my ears “Where is your other earring, Gailynn?”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “You had on two this morning. Is one of these yours?”

  I hung my head.

  “Why are you doing this? Don’t you realize I could charge you with interfering in an investigation? Is that what you really want?”

  I watched Sasha through my tears. What should I say? I wanted to ask her.

  My friend slowly turned to Andrew. “It was my idea. Gailynn told me no, but I took her earring, anyway.”

  “Is that true, Gai?”

  I nodded forlornly.

  Andrew squared his drooping shoulders, as though preparing himself for an unbearable task. “Then I’m sorry, Sasha, truly, but I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”

  “What?” Sam bellowed. “You’re arresting my wife?”

  “No, Sam, I’m just taking her in for questioning. But if I were you, I’d call that high-priced lawyer you hired when you decided to sue Doc. Have him meet us at the station
, just in case.”

  11

  I was on autopilot, walking with my head down, paying attention to nothing except my thoughts.

  Lord, why is this happening? Why is everything going wrong? Surely there must be something I can do to fix things, isn’t there?

  Lori pulled her dad’s pickup to a stop beside me, almost running me over in the process. “Want a lift?” she asked.

  I stared at her.

  “I assume you’re going home. Do you want a ride,” she repeated.

  I climbed in the passenger’s side.

  Lori looked me up and down before shifting the stick into gear. “What’s with you? I haven’t seen you look this miserable since you decided you were adopted. Remember that? You tried dying your hair red and somehow the peroxide turned it green? Then you had to tell your Mom why you’d done it.”

  I slumped lower in my seat. I was in grade six at the time and we’d started studying genetics. Mendel’s square and all that. I was the only non red-haired MacDonald in three generations and according to Mendel, and my teacher, my two redheaded parents could not produce a black-haired child. That meant one of two possibilities: Dad wasn’t my real Dad or both Mom and Dad weren’t my real parents.

  Murder in Hum Harbour

  Dad had always called me his raven-haired maid, and I never understood how likening me to an oversized crow could be considered an endearment. When all this blew up Dad dragged out a box of old family photos and showed me the sepia-tinged picture of his grandmother. She was the daughter of a Mi’kmaq chief and her name, translated, meant Raven’s Wing. I looked just like her, right down to the slant of my eyes. From that point on I abandoned my doubts, even taking modest pride in my poker-straight black hair and never questioned my parents again.

  “Got plans for tonight?” Lori asked as she pulled into her driveway. “Would you like to stay for supper?”

  Why not.

  The Fisher’s live in a basic three-bedroom bungalow, nothing fancy. Lori’s mom kept it spic-and-span and Lori tries to follow in her mom’s footsteps, but a housekeeper she is not. I added my shoes to the pile of discards stashed just inside the back door, hanging my jacket on top of several others already overloading the hooks.