Across the room, Brendan called to another employee, “I’m going to take my break now.” He set down the empty coffeepot and whipped off his apron while heading toward the kitchen door.
Should I? I hesitated then decided, yes, I should. I cleared the cups, pouring the leftover coffee into a container used for that purpose. Then I hurried out of the restaurant.
As I guessed, Brendan was smoking a cigarette in the side alley, a narrow slice of space between the Bean and the adjacent building. “Hey,” I greeted him. “I’ve been hoping to catch up with you.”
In the midst of inhaling, he cocked a brow. “And why is that?” he said after releasing a stream of smoke. He seemed if not exactly cagey, cautious.
I moved closer, avoiding a puddle of something dubious. As with Theo, I decided to take an indirect approach to the topic of Hailey. “You almost hit me the other morning. On Cliff Road.”
His eyes flared in surprise as he took an instinctive step backward. “That was you?” He took a hasty drag. “I’m sorry, I know I was driving too fast.”
“No harm done,” I said. “But you really should be careful on that scooter.” The vehicle in question was tucked up against the wall, near the kitchen door.
He kicked at a stray clump of asphalt with his toe. “I usually am. So dumb. I was upset so I drove a little crazy.”
“Upset about Hailey?” I held my breath, wondering if he would answer or blow me off. This line of questioning was pretty personal and I barely knew Brendan.
But he must have needed someone to talk to, because he nodded and said, “Yeah, Hailey. My kryptonite, I call her. We went out in high school and hooked up a few times since. Whenever she was around. Summers mostly. I was pretty tired of the sitch, but I didn’t say no when I ran into her the other day.” Still holding the cigarette, he scratched the end of his nose. “Should have, that’s for sure.”
I remembered Hailey approaching Brendan while he was clearing tables on the Grille’s deck. But not wanting to be seen as a nosy creeper, I didn’t mention it. “She was a beautiful girl,” I said instead. “And she had a powerful personality.”
He took another drag. “Yeah. All true. But she could flip on a dime. And when I went out to Shorehaven the other night, at her invitation no less, she was on a tear about something. Not fun. Finally, after drinking with her into the wee hours, I crashed on a couch downstairs.”
“Good call.” Driving a scooter impaired was far too dangerous. I waited a beat before asking, “What was she upset about?” Again, not my business. Hopefully he would bother to answer.
Brendan made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “The usual. Someone wasn’t giving her what she wanted.” He waved the cigarette. “Who, I’m not sure. Or what. She didn’t really say plus we were drinking…” He took a final drag then dropped the butt, stubbing it out with his shoe before carefully picked it up and tossing it into a can labeled SMOKES.
“Did you see her the next morning?” What I was really asking was whether he had gone for a sunrise stroll with her, lost his temper, and pushed her off the cliff. Or alternately, whether he had seen her with someone else, aka the killer.
Instead of answering, he pulled out his cigarette pack and extended it to me. When I shook my head, he shook out another and lit up, the onshore breeze forcing him to cup his hands around the flame.
Was he stalling? Brendan had the fair skin of a natural redhead, and a telltale flush was creeping up his neck. But when he blinked furiously, I realized he had tears in his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice husky. “I got out of there soon as I woke up. I didn’t see Hailey.” He cleared his throat. “But if I had, maybe…”
My stomach sank with a thud. Maybe she would still be alive.
“Both Theo and Brendan had good reason to resent Hailey,” I said to Grammie a little later, while we were getting ready to open the store. “But I’m having a hard time seeing either of them as a killer.”
“That’s because you’re soft-hearted.” Grammie slid a new roll of register tape into the dispenser. “You don’t want to think anyone could be that evil.” That task complete, she turned on the iPad that served as our point of sale system.
“Very true. I sure don’t.” I slid the last bunch of store bags into their standing slot beneath the counter, and as I straightened, a sticky note on the counter caught my eye. “Oh yeah. I’ve been meaning to research auction houses for Eleanor’s clothing and jewelry. Maybe I’ll have a chance today.” My plan was to identify the houses most likely to show interest—and work hard to get her the most money.
“By the way, I took her jewelry to the bank,” Grammie said, placing the cash drawer inside the register. “It’s now safe and sound in a deposit box.”
“That’s a relief.” I went to the coffee station and measured coffee into a filter basket. We offered coffee and tea to customers, inviting them to sit in the side room if they wanted. Quincy padded over to nudge my ankles, excited by my proximity to his snack tin. “Hold on, you. I’ll give you a treat in a second.”
A rapping on the front door caught our attention. A short, plump woman with a brown bob pressed the edges of both hands and her face into the glass, peering inside. “Now there’s an eager customer,” Grammie said.
Since Grammie was busy logging onto the point of sale system, I went to answer the door. We weren’t officially open for another five minutes but I wasn’t going to be a jerk and make the customer wait. “Good morning,” I said after unlocking the door, which now had nose and lip prints. “Come on in.” I turned the hanging sign to OPEN.
She thrust a piece of paper at me. “Oh, I don’t need to come in. I just wanted to give you my entry form.”
“For the lobster bib contest?” I guessed, accepting the entry.
“Exactly.” She glanced both ways before leaning close and whispering, “Are we restricted as to the materials we use?”
What an odd question. “Um, no, I don’t think so,” I said. “As long as you can wear it.”
She thrust a fist into the air. “Yes. Thanks so much. Ta-ta.” She bounced off down the sidewalk.
“Tell you what, Grammie,” I said, looking over the form. “This contest is really attracting some interesting people.” Including Mr. Buxton, who I owed a text regarding electricity at the event. After giving Quincy his treat, I found the right form in the file folder and sent the message. Then I tucked the folder away for safekeeping.
My cell phone rang in my apron pocket. Sophie. Oops. I was so eager to talk to Brendan I hadn’t paid my check. “Hey, Sophie,” I said. “I still owe you for breakfast.”
“No, it’s fine. I told you it was on the house.” Dishes clattered in the background and she turned away from the phone for a second. “Sorry. I’m back. I was wondering if you have lunch plans. If not, Lukas and I want to come by. He said he has news about Eleanor’s mother. And I’ll bring Niçoise salad bowls and iced tea.”
“Yum. Love Niçoise.” My heart jumped at the news of Lukas’s progress. “That’s awesome Lukas found something already. See you then.” After I disconnected the call, I gave Grammie the update.
“Oh, excellent,” she said. “I hope Claudia’s story will help when you contact the auction houses.”
“Me too. From what I’ve seen, an interesting provenance can definitely boost interest and prices.” I wandered over to the spinning clothes rack to rearrange the display. The hostess aprons were selling fast, leaving empty spots that I filled with colorful kitchen linens. Time to look for more inventory, another task that never ended. Not that I was complaining.
The bells on the door jingled and the first customers of the day strolled in. Grammie and I turned to them with smiles. Quincy greeted them with a meow. Showtime.
In between customers, I managed to get online and research auction houses. In addition to the big New York names—Sotheby’s and Christie’s—there were smaller houses around New England that offered high-quality items like Eleanor’s. I made bookmarks, planning to contact each house to gauge interest, find out about their fees, and get estimated appraisals. We’d need to send photos of each item at some point, but I could at least get the ball rolling.
Just before noon, Madison strolled into the store, carrying a duffle bag.
“Doing a lot of shopping?” I quipped. “Oh, and did you get my text? News at one, with Dr. Lukas de Wilde.”
Madison dropped the duffle in the side room with a thud. “I did. And I’ll be staying for that.” She hunkered down and unzipped the bag, then pulled out a black and bright blue garment. “This is your wetsuit, to wear during the boat race.”
I took the neoprene suit, which looked far too small, and held it up against my torso. It had short sleeves and legs that went to mid-thigh. “Seriously? You want me to wear this?” With my curves compressed inside it, I would resemble a sausage.
“It will help keep you alive in cold water, should we sink,” Madison said. She tossed shoes and gloves made from similar materials out of the bag. “Booties and gloves.”
“We’re going to look so good, uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Grammie said. “No one will see it under the life jacket.”
“True,” I said. “Uh-oh. Do we have life jackets? And what about paddles?”
“All taken care of. They’re in my car.” Madison took back my outfit and put it in the duffle, then stowed it in the corner. She went over to check the catboat, making sure the paint was dry and the seams were intact. “The boat is looking good.”
I had a sudden thought. “How are we getting the boat down to the harbor?” Neither of our vehicles was large enough. And I couldn’t see us carrying it through the streets, one on each end.
“On it,” she said with a grin. “Ian is coming to get it later with his pickup truck.”
“Good call.” My heart skipped a beat at hearing Ian’s name. We had plans after the race to attend a clambake and listen to music. It would be the first opportunity I’d had to attend the festival. I’d basically been consumed with Hailey’s death and helping Eleanor, both of which were priorities, of course. But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to take a night off with my guy and eat some lobster.
A customer in the main room was looking around for help, so I excused myself and went to assist her. She ended up buying three sets of sheets from Shorehaven for gifts and a martini-themed hostess apron for herself. As I rang up her sale, she asked, “Do you sell that apron you’re wearing?” She put the glasses on a chain around her neck on her nose and took a closer look.
She was referring to the white pinafore we wore as a shop uniform. Grammie and I had designed and sewn them. “I haven’t yet,” I said. “But if you’re interested, I can do a custom order.” I hadn’t before, but custom work might be a nice addition to what we offered. Exactly when I would have time to sew, I had no idea.
“I would really like that,” she said. “I have three granddaughters who would look darling in them. Maybe you could embroider their names? Ava, Aria, and Anna.”
“Oh, what cute names. We certainly could. If you give me your contact information, I’ll send you a quote. I’ll need their sizes.”
“Wonderful,” she said, writing her name, e-mail address, and the girls’ sizes on an order form I handed her. Two, four, and six. How cute. “I would like them for Christmas, so no big rush.”
“Perfect.” I should have time to sew three small aprons before then. Maybe after fall foliage ended and visitor traffic died down—until ski season. The so-called shoulder seasons of late fall and early spring in Maine seemed to be getting shorter every year. More and more people were visiting year-round.
A couple of minutes later, the customer left with a big smile on her face and a promise to return. “I really love our business,” I said to Grammie. “It’s so much fun to make people happy.” Especially since we were sharing our passion for beautiful aprons and linens.
“I feel the same way,” Grammie said. She showed me the impressive tally of sales for the morning. She winked at me. “They seem to be very happy indeed.”
The front door burst open and Sophie bustled in, holding a huge paper bag, Lukas on her heels. He reached out to stop the door from shutting to allow Bella, who was behind him, to enter.
“Bella.” I swooped her into a hug, inhaling her light but sophisticated perfume. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
She laughed. “I managed to sneak out for a bit. My new employee is working out really well, I’m happy to report.”
Sophie made a face of mock hurt. “I don’t get any sugar?”
“Of course you do.” Her arms were full so I hugged the whole package. “I’m so lucky, I get to see you twice today.”
“Three times,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll be cheering you on later, during the race.”
“Oh no.” I put a hand to my head. “Is everyone I know going to be watching?”
“Yes,” Grammie and my friends said in unison.
Lukas looked confused, so while Sophie set down the bag in the side room and began unpacking our lunch, Madison showed him the boat, with Quincy’s help.
“I can see you were the inspiration,” Lukas told Quincy, bending to give him a chin rub. “Good job.”
“Yeah, he helped all right,” I said, exchanging a smiling glance with Madison. “We had paint paw prints all over the store.” I put out a stack of paper bowls, forks, and napkins next to the colorful and tempting platter of tuna, green beans, hard-boiled eggs, tomatoes, olives, greens, and potatoes. The dressing was a mustard and herb–infused oil and vinegar. A pan of fluffy homemade dinner rolls and local butter rounded out the meal.
Grammie added tall pitchers of iced tea and water to the table, and we lined up to fill our bowls and tall cups. Then we sat around the long table and dug in, with Grammie and me keeping an eye out for customers. Fortunately we were in one of those inexplicable lulls in foot traffic and were able to eat without interruption.
I chased the last bite of tuna around my bowl. “So, tell us what you found out about Claudia, Lukas. We’re dying to hear.”
Before replying, he finished chewing and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “That salad was so good. Thank you, Sophie.” He balled up the napkin in his fist as he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.” As we all continued to stare at him, he shifted in his seat and said, “Claudia de Witte was from a noble and wealthy family, well established in Antwerp for generations. She was engaged to marry Baron Xavier Delberke.”
Madison slapped her hand on the table. “Sounds like good news to me. Well, except for the engagement. Wonder what the story is there.”
Claudia’s ownership of couture clothing and expensive jewelry now made sense. She came from a wealthy family. But why had she kept her past hidden? Why had she worked as a nursemaid, one of the lowest rungs on the domestic worker ladder? In fact, why was she employed at all?
Grammie said slowly, “So what’s the bad news, Lukas? Was she running away from her fiancé?”
He pressed his lips together, then sighed deeply, as though working up to what he had to say. “No, it’s worse. Claudia’s father, Baron Adrien de Witte, was killed during a robbery. In 1932, the same year Claudia left Antwerp.”
Left or fled? Were the diamonds Claudia hid stolen? Did she have anything to do with her father’s death? My delicious lunch now sat heavy in my stomach. Putting a hand on my belly, I groaned. “I can’t tell Eleanor about this. Please don’t make me.”
The uneasy silence that fell over the table told me no one else wanted to volunteer to break the news.
“I think we need to keep digging before we say anything,” Grammie said. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. We don’t even know if Claudia was in the country when her father died.”
I felt a spark of hope. “Good point, Grammie. Lukas, do you know the actual date Baron de Witte was killed?”
“Let me double check.” Lukas pulled out his phone and scrolled through. “May first, 1932. According to the newspaper article, the butler found Baron de Witte suffering a head injury in his library. His safe was standing open and empty.” He looked up at us. “Baron de Witte was involved in the diamond trade. But there aren’t good records of what he was keeping in the safe.”
Diamonds. Like the ones from Claudia’s necklace. “Where do we go from here?” I asked. “How can we find out when she arrived? We don’t even know which ship she was on.” I thought of the trunk, which didn’t even boast a shipping label.
“I have some ideas,” Grammie said. “Some friends of mine have been tracing their ancestors through the Ellis Island website. They told me that some manifests from ocean liners are also online now.”
“Maybe we can find her name on one of the lists,” Madison said. “At least we have the year to work with.”
Madison’s optimism eased my fears of reaching a dead end. I was usually the one gnawing at sources like a dog with a bone, but the stakes in garment history were usually pretty low. Learning the truth about Claudia was far more important. I just hoped we’d be happy with the answers.