Murder in Hum Harbour Page 8

“Seven would be lovely.”

  Finally, I was alone with Sasha. I rounded the counter and gathered her into my arms.

  “Honey-child, you look like you could use a great big hug.”

  She ignored my horrible southern drawl and hugged back tightly.

  “Gai, what am I going to do? I can’t go on like this.”

  “You are going to hang on,” I said. “You have people who love you and we are going to see you through this.”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  I stepped back and gave her shoulders a little shake. “I won’t hear any of that, understand?”

  She bit her bottom lip.

  “Last night, in the middle of all that mess I forgot to tell you I dropped off some of Mimi’s tea. And she’s promised she has more stuff coming that’ll help you.”

  Sasha dropped her head on my shoulder and wept

  “We’ll get you through this, I promise.” I hugged her again and, not the first time that day, or certainly not the last, I prayed God would work a miracle for her.

  13

  I finished sifting through that first file drawer by four-thirty when the clinic closed. No sign of Doc’s Hum Harbour Holes contract. In fact, I’d found nothing remotely interesting, unless you considered stuff like Frank Ague’s varicose veins intriguing.

  On impulse, I jogged over to Sam and Sasha’s. When I’d dropped by the flower shop Sasha was in no condition to talk and I was bursting to know the details of what happened at the police station the night before. I knew Andrew would puff out his chest and tell me his interview with Sasha was police business, stay out of it. Asking Sasha would only make her cry and she was doing enough of that without my help. So I figured Sam was my best shot for finding out.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I could smell the booze before I opened the door. You’d think the house had been hosed down with it. My big brother ambled out of the living room, took one look at me standing in his front hall and, despite the beer in his right hand, strong-armed me right out the front door.

  “You have no business sticking your nose into our lives.” He bellowed loud enough for the whole town to hear. “Just leave us alone.”

  Sam waved his right hand wildly, smashing his bottle against the veranda rail. Beer, broken glass and Sam’s favorite cuss words spewed everywhere. Somehow in the process he even slashed his palm.

  Furious, Sam chucked what was left of the bottle into the bushes bordering the veranda. “Come in my house again and so help me, Gailynn, next time it’ll be your head and not my beer.”

  None of the MacDonald men are tall, but to a one, they’re all built like stone walls: thick, solid and immovable. They can be tough, when they want to, and Sam especially, can be scary mean. It’s not like my brother would ever do anything to hurt me, it’s just when he’s been drinking he projects this overpowering image which implies violence. At that moment, with blood running from the jagged cut on the palm of his hand, Sam looked downright frightening.

  I thought perhaps it would be best if I left him to deal with his injury in peace. I even decided to forgo a parting comment, which is very unusual for me.

  So, while Sam stood bleeding all over his front step, I turned tail and marched down the street. Quickly. Without looking back. And I didn’t stop until I was home, safe, inside Dunmaglass, with Sheba crushed to my chest.

  After about an hour, when Sam hadn’t bashed down my door, and no one else called to inform me my oldest brother had just bled to death on his front stoop, I took my gathering bag off the hook and headed to the shore for my evening walk. Sheba came with me.

  Tide was half in, half out, depending how you looked at it, and there was a fair strip of beach to scour. I took my time. The fleet was chugging into the harbor for the night, and the odd fisherman’s voice rose above the drone of engines. Fishing was good so far this season. Most boats made their daily quota by late afternoon. The men unloaded their catch and were home for supper.

  Lord, what’s going on with Sam? If he’d only been out fishing like he was supposed to be, he would never have cut his hand, today. Is he all right, Lord? Should I have stayed to make sure?

  Come to think of it, why wasn’t Sam out fishing like he was supposed to be? I stooped and picked up a wedge of amber seaglass.

  It seemed to me he was being extremely oversensitive about this whole police investigation business. As Lori said, there were any number of people who could have been on Doc’s boat before he set sail. Sasha’s earring was no guarantee she’d done anything untoward. So why get so upset? Tell Andrew the truth, answer a few questions and go home. Bring the lawyer if you really think its necessary, and be done with it. Let Andrew get on to the real suspects.

  I scooped up a chunk of green seaglass and tucked it into my bag with the amber.

  Maybe Sam’s cut wasn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe I overestimated the blood. I mean, I might not have been noticing things clearly either, seeing how unnerved I was. I’d never seen Sam that over-the-top mad before. Weird.

  In fact, Sam’d been acting weird for months now, since Sasha’s miscarriage, or maybe even before that. She’d needed him and he was nowhere to be found. I suppose he felt guilty. If he’d been there with her maybe he could have…

  What, Lord?

  Sam wouldn’t have known what Doc needed to do anymore than I did. We required an informed medical person to tell us what Sasha and the baby needed and Doc, our informed medical person of choice, had let us down.

  No wonder Geoff came home to Hum Harbour. I bet once he heard what happened to his sister no plane was fast enough. Botched stuff like this might be par for the course in third world countries, but in Canada, we expect better.

  Yes we do.

  What if Sam’s hand needed sutures?

  I tugged my hair. A little pressure, a simple bandage, surely that was all he required. Besides, he’d be too stubborn to call Geoff and ask for stitches.

  Sheba stalked a tidal pool on one of the granite rocks that slope along the shore. I stirred the shallow water with my finger.

  Sam didn’t want Geoff’s help. Lori didn’t trust Geoff, either. Did her concern about Geoff’s motives bear considering? So what if Geoff approached Doc to sell his practice? What was wrong with that? Did it mean Geoff was up to something nefarious?

  Well, God, did it?

  I’d thoroughly searched Doc’s A file and found nothing. Maybe his records for the sale of his practice would be filed under B for Bill of Sales. He’d never given me any contracts to file but if Ellen Fisher filed Doc’s original purchase documents under B, maybe Doc slipped his new papers into the same folder. Of course the papers I sought could also be under P for purchase, M for medical practice, L for legal documents. Or they might not be there at all.

  What if Doc kept his personal paperwork at home?

  I had a zillion questions and no answers. What had Mimi said about Pandora’s Box?

  Crunching footsteps on gravel caught Sheba’s attention. Ears pricked, she turned her head to the sound. So did I. I did not, however, race to the source of that sound, namely Geoff Grant, or throw myself into his arms, as she did.

  Geoff looked his usual handsome self with his coat collar turned up against the breeze and the blue-green scarf that matched his eyes. Lori called them shifty eyes, although I dismissed her criticism as a preference for hazel eyes, like Andrew’s.

  As I watched him approach, I wondered if Lori was right. What if Geoff was not what he appeared—the loving brother returning home to care for his only sister? Their parents both died while Geoff was in Africa and Sasha was all the family he had left.

  Did that kind of aloneness drive a man to do uncharacteristic things? Did it change a man’s character? Did I even know Geoff’s true character?

  I sighed. He’d been so nice to me, especially after the way I acted at church that first Sunday. It was as though he went out of his way to be charming. Lori would ask why.

  Was it naï
ve to think he was simply a nice person?

  He smiled at me now, the kind of smile that made my heart flutter, and I steeled myself against it. I was not naïve. Geoff Grant would not win me over with his easy smile and a few kind words. I was wiser than that.

  “Gathering treasure?” he asked.

  “Pondering life’s mysteries.”

  He didn’t respond, evidently waiting for me to elaborate.

  “I have so many questions I don’t even know where to start.”

  His smile deepened the clefts in his cheeks. “Why not start at the beginning?”

  I hesitated. Was this another way to win me over? Listen to my worries and act concerned? Still, my main worries were my brother Sam, and Geoff’s sister, Sasha. Between their marriage and Geoff’s childhood friendship with Andrew, Geoff was practically family. What he didn’t know about us would get lost in the small tidal pool beside me. Wouldn’t his interest be logical?

  “I stopped by Sam’s to ask how things went at the police station last night. They hadn’t answered the phone all day, and I was worried. Isn’t that fair?”

  Geoff nodded, though whether he agreed or just wanted me to keep me talking, I wasn’t sure.

  “Sometimes Sam makes me so mad, I could bash him over the head and not feel one iota of remorse.”

  Geoff tilted his head and his eyes darkened.

  “OK, maybe not. But I swear that man is the most infuriating person God ever created.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He threw me out of his house and told me to mind my own business.” I didn’t know why I shied from telling Geoff about Sam’s bottle bashing spree. “He spent the whole day drinking, by the smell of him. Sasha is dying of misery, and he’s so drunk he doesn’t even see how much she’s hurting.”

  Although he said nothing, I could tell Geoff agreed, so I rushed on.

  “He does nothing. Nothing! Apart from suing Doc, which was the dumbest idea he’s ever had, Sam’s made a career out of doing nothing.”

  “He probably doesn’t know what to do,” Geoff said in his soothing doctor voice. “Depression can be overwhelming to live with.”

  “Exactly. Sasha is completely overwhelmed by it so why doesn’t he get off his duff and get her some help?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, Gailynn. Sasha has to want the help, herself.”

  “Well, how would he know if she wanted help, or not? I tell you, he doesn’t care about anything besides himself. He ordered me to leave him alone. He was so mad he smashed his beer against the veranda. Broke the bottle!”

  Geoff’s eyes were suddenly cold as glacial ice. “He threatened you?”

  I flapped a dismissive hand in the air. Two hours after the fact I was feeling cavalier. “That’s just Sam sprouting off. He wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt me.”

  “If there is any trouble, if you need anything at all, Gailynn, call me. I’ll be over that rail to your place faster than an antelope over grass.” He tilted my chin and held my gaze. The ice in his eyes was gone. “Understand?”

  I blinked a couple of times. I wasn’t sure at what point I’d jumped to my feet.

  He dropped his hand and reached into his jacket pocket.

  “I found these. Are they the kind of thing you gather?” He held a dozen pieces of seaglass in assorted shapes and colors. “I found most of them on the other side of the wharf.”

  “They’re perfect. Thank you.” He set the glass gently on my palm, and my hand tingled at the warmth of his touch.

  “I see you out here every morning as the sun’s coming up and then again at sunset. Do you like walking alone or would you appreciate company sometimes?”

  I dragged my gaze out over the water. I wasn’t having a lot of success with steeling myself, at the moment.

  “I like the silence of the harbor, when there’s only the gulls and me. It’ll sound silly, but being alone out here makes me feel closer to creation, like I’m a part of the ocean, the wind, the earth.” I shook my head. “I don’t mean that in a ‘Here I am Mother Earth’ kind of way. It’s just that when I’m alone I can feel God. Probably more so than any other time, even church. It’s like—” I scrunched my nose trying to find the right words. “It’s like when I touch the water or the wind, I’m touching God, and I can feel Him touching me. Is that weird?”

  “It sounds holy.”

  “It does?” I felt myself blushing. Then I heard myself say, “If you’re asking would I like company when I’m walking, the answer is yes; that would be nice, sometimes.”

  We strolled back to town and for most of the way I wanted to kick myself. How was I to objectively assess this man when I stupidly agreed to anything he suggested?

  As though to prove my point, Geoff invited me to join him for dinner at the Hubris Heron and I promptly accepted. The restaurant would be toasty warm, a definite plus since my jeans were damp. The evening’s special posted on the door said deep fried scallops, my favorite. And I could use the time to inquire into his motives. At least those were the reasons I gave myself for saying yes.

  14

  The restaurant is different in the evening. Mimi’s at home with her kids, the lunch-timer crowd doing the same. Dinner at the Hubris Heron is turned over to high schoolers, rock music, lots of noise and testosterone.

  We settled into the booth closest to the kitchen. Everything else was taken. The teenage waitress wore a white tank and black pants that clung so tightly they managed to cover everything and nothing at the same time. She grabbed the coffee pot and flounced to our table.

  “Hi, Geoff,” she said. She flipped over his cup and filled it without asking. “I thought maybe you weren’t gonna make it tonight. Had to give away your table. Sorry.” She looked me up and down.

  “Hi, Stephanie,” I said. I used to babysit Stephanie and her five malicious brothers when I was in high school. She’d grown up a lot. “How’s school?”

  “Fine.” She gave Geoff her undivided attention while I got a view of her back. “Will you have the special?”

  Geoff looked at me. “Gailynn, would you like to look at the menu?”

  “The special’s fine.”

  “Then make it two, thanks.”

  Stephanie heaved a sigh, “Whatever,” and reluctantly filled my cup, too.

  Geoff and I watched her saunter away.

  “I guess you come here often.”

  “Most nights I get Stephanie to pack up the special and I eat upstairs but sometimes I stay down here. The kids are noisy, I know, but after being away for so long I think of it as a crash course in Cultural Change.”

  “Have things changed that much?”

  He glanced around the room and my gaze followed. The boys wore oversized hooded sweatshirts or white sleeveless undershirts and baggy jeans slung so low they defied the law of gravity. The girls squeezed into tiny tops and skin tights pants. Most, however, were not as pleasantly proportioned as Stephanie and although the overall effect might thrill the teen-aged boys present it did nothing for my appetite.

  “What are kids like in Somalia?” I asked.

  “Modest.” He turned back to me. “Thanks for saying yes to dinner. I get tired of my own company.”

  “There’s always down here if you’re lonely,” I said. I was sure Stephanie wouldn’t mind, which annoyed me. The fact that it annoyed me, annoyed me even more. “Judging by the pictures you sent home to Sasha, you lived in a compound with hundreds of people. I’d have thought you’d be eager for privacy.”

  “You’d think. I shared a hut with six other doctors. We got along well enough, but you’re right, there was no privacy.”

  “Kind of like Hum Harbour, where everyone knows everyone else’s business?”

  “It was a different kind of exposure. We knew each other intimately, if you’re talking about sleeping patterns and irritations. But our thoughts, feelings, those are the kind of things you kept to yourself. A loose word overheard by the wrong person could have calamitous consequenc
es.”

  Geoff fell silent as Stephanie arrived with biscuits and butter.

  “What kind of consequences?”

  He took a long time to answer. “Life is cheap in Somalia. For the meanest of reasons, anyone is expendable.”

  I shivered. Somehow, I knew that comment was significant. The things he’d seen had taken the luster off his ideal of helping humanity. I could see it in the deep lines in his face.

  I’d hoped to uncover Geoff’s motive for coming home. Maybe this disillusionment was as far as I had to go.

  Once Stephanie set our dinner in front of us Geoff seemed to come to life again. “I’ve been thinking about Sam’s reaction to you dropping by.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine. We’d have heard if the cut was serious.”

  “What cut?”

  “Didn’t I mention it? Sam, uh, cut his hand when he was waving around the broken bottle.”

  Geoff laid down his fork. “Is there anything else you haven’t mentioned?”

  “Nothing significant. Sam’s always been a bully. I’m used to it. Not that he’d ever be rough with Sasha,” I added hastily. “He loves Sasha.”

  “Just because a man loves his wife doesn’t mean he won’t turn rough if he feels he’s being pushed.”

  “He’s never hurt Sasha, I’m positive.”

  He picked up his fork. “Neglect is another form of abuse. He and Sasha had been trying for that baby for years. The fertility clinic was their last option. Sam knew he should keep close to home until she was through the dangerous phase of her pregnancy. Where was he when she needed him?” His eyes glinted with anger.

  Or was Sasha his reason for moving back?

  “Did your sister ever tell you where Sam’d run off to?”

  “No. But I get the sense that the men in this town take off whenever and wherever they like without much concern for their responsibilities.”

  “If you mean Doc, we always knew he was close. Most weekends he never sailed any further than Port Hawkesbury. He’d weigh anchor in some little cove and stay put ’til Sunday night, then sail home again.”

  “He’s not the only one. Your cousin’s husband, Mike, scoots off for days at a time.”