Chapter 28
The inky pool of predawn pressed in on the sun room window as I rubbed itchy eyes and stifled yawns. Between my throbbing shoulder and a racing mind, seemed like I slept only minutes. Should have taken some of those magic pills Doc Danforth prescribed. But I wanted a clear head—too much to work out—too much potential change in my life, particularly with Stella. Our date was months away, but I was a kid again, planning my prom night.
Exhausted, I backed up to a chair and bent to sit. No, stay and watch. My mind prodded me back to the window. What did I really want? At least I would salvage something out of my lost night by bearing witness to the sunrise.
Jabbed by pointed barbs in the nether regions of my brain about a call Mark took at the restaurant last night, I couldn’t let go of the case. My tenuous theories on Melissa’s murder and everything else that had occurred here in Granite Cove were blown out of the water. The DNA results on the blood samples from the towel rack and the little towel fragment Carl found were a match to DeFranchesco all right, but a filial match. Not him, but a brother. That slime ball slithered off the hook for Melissa’s murder by a couple of DNA markers. Not his print on the knife either. No wound on his face—he couldn’t be the one who shot me in the junk yard.
Never believed I would say this, but evidence be damned. I knew DeFranchesco had to be involved. His fingerprint put him in Melissa’s apartment, and he tried to cover up by deep-sixing it. I pressed that point, but Mahoney insisted that evidence tampering would net him a mere slap on the wrist compared to bigger crimes the State had pending. Even though the bastard broke in here, it still only amounted to a minor complaint. We had hard proof of those two things. We could use those to at least leverage DeFanchesco’s firing. Maybe arrange a little jail time for him as well, but not until Mahoney did her thing.
I unclenched my fists and wiggled my fingers to relieve the tension and tried to refocus on the gloom outside. My mind ran right back to the murder. DeFranchesco did have some sort of relationship with Melissa. Did he convince a sibling to do the dirty work of killing her? If so, he could still be indicted for it. Proving his involvement would be another matter, we had little left connecting him to the crime. The treasure thing appeared to be a prime motive. Jean-Marie confirmed that.
Mahoney told us her investigations turned up no siblings for—what did Stella call him? Oh, yeah, Greaseball. A bit unusual, the Italian families in the north end tended to be large. Mark promised to do some further digging into DeFranchesco’s history. We were missing something.
Damn, I hated when a case fell apart, but this one disintegrated like a sand castle on the incoming tide. What now?
I shifted my focus to the thin line of gray where the sea met the sky—been a long time since I waited on the sun. A tribute to my late wife or symptoms of a restless mind and little sleep? Felt different from all those times the Helen and I watched. Her so sick at the end, I propped her up in the bed to greet the day. Always ended with her same remark, “At least I got to see another.” How pathetic those words sounded standing here alone.
My chest tightened, and twinges radiated out from my shoulder. My throat constricted and I breathed through my mouth as water collected in the rims of my eyes. I blinked them clear. Could not miss the first burst of sun. I glanced at the little lighthouse clock on the dry sink wanting to shove those stationary hands backwards, regain what I’d lost. No, that served no more purpose than leaving the little time piece idle, devoid of purpose with its dead batteries. I would change them today. We all must move on.
A tingly excitement began to run beneath the surface of my pain and grief and I allowed thoughts about the coming days to take form. Hadn’t ever done that before, indeed I resisted it knowing the ultimate end for Helen. I fell into the stupor of routine not caring much what might lie ahead. One of the reasons Mark and I hadn’t set up our agency yet. I wasn’t ready.
A new day began right outside my window. A rebirth and I released a long sigh, letting go of the lines binding me to the dock of my old life, my safe harbor against tragedies and life storms. Anxious now to cast off and sail out into uncharted waters, but fearful of cutting the ties, a cold finger of doubt ran up my spine.
A greenish light burst from the slit of dawn, filling the sky far out over the Atlantic for a microsecond, and then it was gone. Couldn’t believe it, all those mornings watching with Helen, we’d never seen the green. I figured the flash, an artifact of atmospheric light refraction, didn’t occur this far south. Most folks went up to Eastport, Maine to witness the phenomenon. Today, I saw it right here in Granite Cove. So fast and fleeting I could have missed it. Had to be a sign.
Light rays began to pierce the still murky sky. Cloud colors melted from purple, to orange, to white. My eyes burned from their brilliance, and I shifted my gaze toward the Jetty and my town. White caps whipped across the water. My thermometer read thirty four degrees—clear, cold Canadian air ripping out to sea. Be a great day to sail, except for the damned chill.
This kind of day called for a hot, solid breakfast. Mary’s would be perfect. The stiff breeze on the walk down would flush the fog out of my head, and I needed the exercise.
Leaves and road grit tumbled and twirled in the street on the gusting wind. I adjusted my wool watch cap over my ears and pulled my collar up—time to dig out my scarf and gloves.
A single car drove away through the business district, made the turn up North Main and disappeared. Nothing else moved except the gutter trash. The town had donned its post-season hollow shell and echoed with its emptiness. The smart merchants, those who sold Tee’s and trinkets, long since gone to warmer climes, closing shop right after the end of September. Some of them ran businesses up here during the summer and at other locations down south over the winter. They chased the almighty tourist dollar up and down the eastern seaboard.
Off-season, the doorway to Mary’s was a welcome portal to the life pulse of the community. I stepped through into the steamy interior, a stew pot of sound, spiced with the flat twang of “down east” Yankee. The place teemed with activity in stark contrast to the empty town outside.
Mary came out of the kitchen, loaded with plates, spotted me, and shrieked, “Al– Al Snodgrass.” She slung the meals at the customers, mixing up the orders in the process, something that never happened. An indoor sun in a prim yellow uniform, she ran around the counter throwing her arms out wide as she approached. I braced for impact.
“Chief Snodgrass you are a sight for sore eyes.” Her arms started to drop as she stopped short of an embrace.
“Go ahead if you want to. I’m fine.”
She wrapped me up and squeezed, tender, but tight. “Chief, you scared us real bad. How are you feeling?”
An extra twinge bolted out from my shoulder, but I let the hug on a good friend run over it and hugged her back. “You know what they say darlin’, ‘only the good die young’. I’ll be around a good long time.”
“Good to hear. I need to talk to you right away.”
One of the bent backs at the counter straightened and Joe Burns turned around glaring at the two of us still snug in embrace. “Huh. Guess a guy has to get shot to attract that kind of attention around here.”
She leaned back and laughed. “Joe Burns, at Mary’s if you want something, you muster up the gumption and ask.”
A ripple of snickers ran down the counter and he turned red.
I nodded toward the dining room. “The office free?”
“Sure is. Held it open for you.”
“Why thank you ma’am. All right with you if he listens in to what you have to tell me?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“Good. Come on Grumpy, grab your plate and let’s all go out back where it’s quiet.”
The waves beyond the glass wall, much larger than they appeared from my back window, raced for the harbor mouth. It would be a wet, cold day on the water. I took my usual seat at my unofficial desk in my offsite office. Bill Jamison moved around on his boat getting ready to go out. He would be the only one in weather like this. A lot of mouths to feed and bills to pay and those things never stopped.
Joe trundled in juggling his breakfast, coffee and a handful of silverware.
Mary jammed fists into her hips. “There’s utensils back here you know. You didn’t need to lug everything from up front.”
“Wanted to save you some extra washing.”
“Appreciate it, but the dish washers running fine today. That’s what I want to tell you about, Al. Beanie showed up this morning.”
“Where?”
“Here. Bangin’ on the back door as soon as I walked in. Said he was cold and hungry. So I fed him. He fixed the dish washer and took out the trash, like a typical day.”
“Jesus. You tell him he’s supposed to stay hidden?”
“Yes, but Al, he kept insisting you were taking care of everything, and it was all right to be here.”
“I’m trying, but he has to keep his side of the bargain. Mort Shaw is due back today. All I need is a few more hours.”
“He talked about Mrs. Crosby and all the things he needed to do over there. I think he might be planning to move back to his room sometime soon.”
“Crap. DeFranchesco’s watching the place.”
Joe listened, a slice of bacon hovering over his plate. “Can Mary here be in trouble having him hang around?”
“No, I don’t think so, if Beanie told her it was okay. Did DeFranchesco ever tell you to turn him in?”
A frown appeared, a stranger on the landscape of Mary’s beaming face. “Let me think. He asked if I knew how to find Beanie, and if he worked here. Oh, and he wanted to know last time I saw him, but I hadn’t seen him for days. I’m sure he didn’t ask to be contacted if Beanie came by. I wouldn’t anyway.”
“You should be fine. DeFanchesco probably assumed you wouldn’t call, but he screwed up by not asking.”
Joe stared me down. “You’re sure?”
She squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “The man just said so, Joe.”
“I worry about you is all.”
She leaned in and hugged him from behind. “Thank you, my dear. Wish I could stay, but I’ve got to go back up front. Oh, one other point, Al. Beanie wanted to know if I owed him for any back hours. Said he needed seven dollars.” Unwrapping herself, she gave us palms up shrug. “Gave him a ten and he left happy. Pretty cheap fee for a repair.” She slipped through the kitchen door.
The red in Joe’s face ebbed as he started in on the bacon again. What did Beanie want with seven dollars? Something silly, I expected, but troublesome. Whatever he had in mind would bring him out in public. With a little luck, Shaw would be back in town before anything happened. In the meantime, Joe needed a swift kick. “You ever going to get off your ass and ask that girl out?”
He stopped chewing. “Figure I’d do that about the time you asked Stella.”
“Then you’ve lost your excuse. I already did.”
“What? When?”
“On my visit down to Mass General last night. Dates set for when she can get out.”
“Snodgrass, you are one sly dog. Guess I ought to get off my butt, huh?”
“Guess? No guesswork here. You both want this to happen. Jesus, everybody knows, even the lunks up front. So make the move.”
“But we’ve been such good friends all these years. Afraid I’ll lose what we’ve built up.”
“And while you’re stewing over what you might lose, you’re wasting precious time, missing out on something better.”
“You’re right, and you know what, I’m gonna do it.”
“Good. While you chew on how to go about it, how about taking a little ride with me?”
“Ride? Where?”
“Over to School Street to Mrs. Crosby’s. Need to head Beanie off before he gets himself comfortable there. We can check on the furnace and her wood supply.” I wanted to find out if DeFranchesco made good on his threat to search the entire property. Mrs. Crosby hadn’t called, but she wasn’t one to bother unless she couldn’t handle the situation herself. Also wanted to take a closer look for more coins.
“And you didn’t bring your car.”
“You read me so well. You should try applying some of that skill to Mary. Might be surprised what you’d learn.”
Verba Mea 