A Vineyard Summer

Annie had sped up island to Sweet Everything Farm in Chilmark and was grateful that she hadn’t been stopped. Neither local law enforcement nor the state police had a sense of humor about speeders. Especially in season.

“She’s not home?” Annie asked Rodney as if he might be mistaken about his wife’s whereabouts. She’d power walked from her car up the hill when she’d spotted him strolling out of one of the barns. “Do you know when she’ll be back? It’s kind of an emergency.” She wondered if she looked as ruffled as she felt.

“She’s in Vineyard Haven at the dentist. Root canal.” He grimaced.

“Oh, dear. That’s unpleasant.”

“Not as unpleasant as it was when she woke up during the night. The way she screamed I thought the damn house was burning down.”

Annie smiled. “I needed one once. It’s not high on my list of things I want to go through again.”

His brows knitted together. “But you have a different emergency. Are you in critical need of poisoned honey? Sorry, but we destroyed that batch.”

It took Annie a second to realize he was kidding. “Actually,” she said, “I wanted to talk to her about what happened when she was on the boat. When she got sick and realized the honey cake was bad. Do you remember anything she told you?”

He shook his head. “Only that all she wanted was to get home.”

“Did she tell you that she gave someone—a woman—the boxes to throw away?”

Scratching at what looked like more than a day-old beard, Rodney said, “Yeah, sure. I remember. She tried to call me from the ladies’ room—that’s always weird, isn’t it?—but she remembered I wouldn’t have my phone with me. She wanted to tell me she was sick and she knew it was because of the honey. She wanted to tell me it was bitter, and that a woman said she’d ditch both the cakes before anyone else could have a taste. As soon as Myrna was done with her story, I went into my processing room and tasted the raw honey. Bitter was an understatement. God, I still can’t believe I missed that. I was sorry Myrna felt sick, but we’re lucky it didn’t go public. We’ve worked real hard to have a good reputation.”

“It isn’t your fault that Myrna gave the boxes to a woman and didn’t toss them in the trash herself.”

“I think she was otherwise occupied in a stall.”

Annie tried to look sympathetic.

“But I feel terrible about what happened to that other lady.”

“She’s fine now, Rodney. Though I’m still trying to figure out how she wound up getting the cake.” Then Annie had another idea. “How long have you been selling honey cakes, Rodney?”

“Good question. Five or six years.”

Five or six years. Which meant that more than twenty years ago, when Dana Flanagan and Colin Littlefield supposedly made honey cakes for Fiona because she “loved them,” Sweet Everything Farm would not have supplied them. Annie didn’t know why she’d thought there might be a link, or what it might mean. Suddenly she felt as if she was grasping at too many straws.

“We’ve been selling raw honey a lot longer than that, though,” Rodney added. “Thirty—no, wait—almost forty years. Wow. Time goes by fast.”

“Do you sell it to stores?”

“In the beginning, we thought we’d sell only to wholesalers. Then Myrna had a bright idea. Honey was real popular in the late seventies, so she said, ‘Why not have a real honey wagon? I can travel around the island once every week or two.’ We were newly married, God, we were so young! But she turned our beekeeping into a real business. Smart woman, my Myrna.”

“Did she go over to Chappy?”

“Hard to remember, but probably. If you want, I can try to call her. Maybe she can help sort out your emergency. If she’s not yet tied down in the chair.”

“Tied down?”

He laughed. “I told her they’d better tie her down to stop her from running away when they came at her with the needle.”

“Did she laugh?”

“No. She rolled her eyes and told me to shut up. She’s used to me.” He pulled a phone from a pocket in his overalls. “Let’s see if she answers.” He touched the screen, then held the phone to an ear.

After a couple of seconds, he puffed out his cheeks as if in exasperation.

And Annie waited, trying to sort out the myriad of facts.

Then Rodney shook his head. “Voice mail. Sorry.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway. Maybe I can figure out something else.” She turned to walk back to her car, and then had another thought. “Rodney? Would you mind telling me where Myrna’s dentist is? I hate to impose, but it’s really important. I don’t think I’m overreacting when I say someone’s life might be at stake.”

* * *

The dental office was on State Road, right past the Black Dog Café. Annie made a mental note in case she ever needed another root canal, though the thought made her grimace the way Rodney had.

Myrna was not in the waiting room. Neither was anyone else. Annie stepped to the reception desk, but no one was behind the sliding glass window. She stood, listening, not knowing what she expected to hear. Hopefully, it would not be Myrna screaming as if the building were on fire.

She jangled her keys; she coughed. She looked down a hall that had several doors on each side about ten feet apart. Still, no one showed.

The thought of Fiona sitting at the Kelley House, anxiously awaiting word from Annie, emboldened her.

“Hello?” she called out well above a whisper. “Is anyone here?”

The response came in the form of the high-pitched buzz of a drill. When the buzzing ceased, a young woman in scrub pants and a colorful smock stepped from one of the doorways into the hall. She removed a surgical mask. “Sorry,” she said. “The doctor is with a patient. I’m her assistant, Grace. The receptionist must be out for lunch.”

Good grief, Annie thought. She hadn’t realized it was well past noon. “I’m here to see your patient,” she said, employing her best smile. “Myrna . . .” Suddenly, she could not remember Myrna’s last name.

“She’ll be finished in a few minutes if you’d care to wait.”

Annie didn’t care to wait, but she felt she had no choice. She sat in the waiting room and Grace disappeared back down the hall. Once again, Annie reviewed the facts.

Somehow, it now seemed obvious that Roger Flanagan was involved.

But why?

To get the land?

If he were hell-bent on that, it seemed he could have resorted to more appropriate means than poisoning Fiona. Besides, how could he have known that his wife would come back from the Cape toting not only custom chocolates for the wedding-guest gift bags but also poisoned honey cakes?

And what about his wife? It appeared that Nicole had been handed the cakes, and had been told that they were poisonous. Had she concocted the plan? Did she, too, want the Littlefield property so badly? Hadn’t Earl once said he thought Nicole would rather be on Nantucket?

“Annie?”

She jumped at the sound and looked up to see Myrna. “Oh, hi! How’s the tooth?”

“The pain is gone. I can’t believe it. Are you here for the same reason?” Her words were a little slurred, as if, like Claire, she too had had a stroke. Must be the novocaine, Annie thought.

“No. I’m here to see you. I have a question about the woman you gave the honey cakes to on the boat. You said you thought she had light-colored hair. But do you remember if she was young or old?”

Myrna held one hand up to her cheek, then shook her head. “She wasn’t young. But she didn’t look too old. I remember thinking she must have had work done.”

Bingo. Nicole Flanagan. So Colin hadn’t lied about that.

“And then you saw her talking to the guy, who you then saw drive off the boat in a Porsche?”

“Right.”

“And he was alone in the car.”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure he was.”

“When you saw them talking, did you notice if she was carrying the cake boxes? Please. This part is very important.”

Myrna took her time. In the distance, the dentist drill whirred again. “No,” she said. “She wasn’t. She was carrying a large purse. It was red, as I recall.”

“Would a man might have thought it was a tote bag?”

Myrna laughed. “Who knows what a man would say? It looked expensive, though.”

“Was it big enough to hold the cakes?”

She shook her head. “No. Not even one. It was the wrong shape. Deep enough, but not wide enough for a box. Not even if she’d put it on its side, but why would anyone carry a cake on its side?”

“I doubt that they would.”

Then Myrna suddenly said, “Wait. She had a box, too. A large one. It was tied with lavender ribbon and had a handle.”

The chocolates for the wedding, Annie thought. “But you never saw the cakes again?”

“No. Wish I could help you more.” She rubbed her cheek a little, dropped her hand into her pocket, and pulled out a set of keys.

“Oh, Myrna, you have no idea how much you’ve helped. And I’m glad your tooth is feeling better.”

“Ha! Rodney will be, too!”

Annie grinned and went out the door.

* * *

On the drive back to Edgartown, Annie mulled over and over why Nicole Flanagan would have wanted to poison Fiona. Even if she’d known the tainted honey probably wouldn’t have killed her, she would have known it would make the girl sick. Why would she have done that? To scare Fiona into agreeing with her siblings to sell the house so Nicole and Roger could buy it, tear down both houses, and no doubt the cottage, too, then build a mega-mansion like the ones in Chilmark that had caused so much controversy?

Had Colin and Nicole been in on this together?

Or had Sheila—the missing sibling who might or might not be at home in Seattle—been involved after all?

Or . . . could it have been Dana, the bride? Was her former relationship with Colin somehow significant?

“Where are you when I need you?” she admonished the sky, her words directed at Murphy. If her old friend hadn’t died, by now they would have solved the puzzle. And Annie would be able to get back to her life.

But Murphy was unresponsive.

* * *

The desk clerk at the Kelley House rang Fiona, who said Annie was welcome to go to her room. She quickly found it again, but paused at the dark wood door, its brass numerals polished to a high shine. “A little help, please,” she whispered, in case Murphy resurfaced. Then she knocked.

“It’s open,” Fiona’s timid voice called from inside.

Turning the knob, Annie was about to caution Fiona about leaving the door unlocked, when she stopped short. Fiona sat on top of one of the beds; she was propped up by several pillows that looked as if they might swallow her tiny body any minute.

But what was more disturbing was that she was not alone. In the navy chair, one leg crossed over the other, sat Colin.

“Hello,” Fiona said. “I guess you’ve met my brother.” She wore a pink cotton robe and her hair was pulled back in a loose chignon that accentuated her jutting cheekbones and made her look like a teenager. Like John’s Lucy, Annie thought.

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Annie replied, “Yes. I have.”

“He didn’t do it,” Fiona said.

Colin stood; Annie braced herself for what might come next. But all he did was walk to the window, look down onto the street, and shove his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “Did you ever hear of a guy named Edward Fenterly?” he asked.

“The filmmaker?” Annie knew the man had won several awards for his historical docudramas that took place during World War II and were centered around the men and women who had served.

“Fenterly is one of Roger Flanagan’s old cronies. He flew in for the wedding. He supposedly wanted me to talk with his partner back in New York. We left before the fireworks because the guy was taking off for Paris the next day. I didn’t think I needed to sign out.”

“Are you saying the airline gave the police the wrong information and your name will be on the passenger list?”

“No. We traveled by private plane.” Colin crossed back to the chair and sat down again.

So far, none of this had anything to do with Fiona being poisoned. “If nothing else,” Annie said, “it might have been nice if you’d told your sister you were going.”

“Look, I told you, I barely communicate with either of my sisters, except to argue about what to do with the mausoleum on Chappy.” He folded his arms again.

“He knew about the cake,” Fiona interrupted.

Annie’s eyebrows shot up. Colin turned and faced her.

“I already told you I met Nicole on the boat,” he said. “And, yes, we were talking about how crazy things get in summer. Then she told me about two honey cakes that a woman had in the ladies’ room. The woman said they were poisonous and asked Nicole to throw them away. Nicole said she did. Then she reminded me Dana and I used to buy honey from the wagon that came from up island, then we made little cakes for Fiona. She loved them.” He propped his elbows on his knees, and pressed his palms together as if he were praying—an act that seemed out of character. Annie wondered if, like Roger Flanagan, he was trying to manipulate her. And Fiona, too.

“She said one of them hadn’t been touched, and that I might consider giving it to Fiona. She said maybe a good dose of illness might prompt my sister into finally leaving the island and agreeing to let me sell them the house.”

“I don’t understand,” Annie said. “Why would Fiona decide to sell just because she got sick?”

“It didn’t make sense to me, either,” Colin said. “Until I figured out that Nicole wanted Roger to think that Fiona would sue him; she probably planted that in his head, as well as the threat that he’d sue Fiona back. Fiona has never liked confrontation; she’s shy, just like our mother was. My bet is Nicole counted on scaring Fiona into agreeing to sell. She’d never allow Sheila to get her bird sanctuary, but if she turned over her voting rights to me, we’d be set. We only need two-thirds to sell to the Flanagans.”

“Okay,” Annie interrupted, “they want your property. I already know that.” She could have sat on the ottoman, but she felt safer remaining by the door.

Colin continued. “Nicole wanted to tear it down and build what she called a ‘show palace.’ She’s planned this since our parents died. Everyone thinks Roger controls that family. But it’s really her. She’s made Roger pump a ton of money into every island charity she knows of. She thinks that means the planning board and the selectmen bend the regulations when Roger applies for the permit.”

Which supported Monsieur LeChance’s theory as to why Roger supported the garden club, despite the fact that neither he nor Nicole had any visible penchant for flowers.

So far, Colin made sense. But Annie was careful not to let down her guard.

“Unlike Chilmark,” he added, “Edgartown doesn’t limit the size of residential homes yet. There aren’t many house restrictions at all, except in the village where there are regulations about everything.”

“How do you know all this about the Flanagans?”

He let out a low groan. “Not proud of myself, but Dana and I were friends with benefits, you know what I mean? She knew I’d never marry her; that family is too screwed up. But she told me about her mother’s real estate plans. And that I should negotiate a wicked-high price.”

“Fine,” Annie said, “but talk to me about the honey cake. And tell me the truth this time.”

“Right. Sorry I wasn’t completely forthcoming, but, Jesus, I didn’t know you. You could have been working for Nicole. Spying on me, you know?”

Annie could not disagree.

“Anyway, Nicole said I should retrieve the cake that hadn’t been touched from the bin and give it to Fiona. She said it looked like it just came out of a bakery.” He examined his fingernails. “I told her no thanks. Then she frowned—have you ever noticed how when someone’s had too many face-lifts, when they try to frown you don’t see any lines, but it makes them look like they’re in pain?” He sighed. “Right after that, the steamship guy announced that drivers had to return to their vehicles, so I went down to the freight deck and got into my car. End of story.”

“Not really,” Fiona said.

“Right,” he said quietly.

Annie waited. She’d developed a cramp in her right hip from standing motionless with her muscles tensed. Still, she didn’t move.

“When Fenterly approached me at the reception, I ran home to grab my valise. When I raced through the kitchen, I saw a white box by the sink. It looked like a bakery box.”

“Was it the honey cake?” Annie asked.

“I can’t say for certain. I paid no more attention to it; I was in too much of a hurry. I do know it hadn’t been there in the morning when I’d gone next door to help set up for the wedding. When I got home yesterday, it was gone. The hospital had left a bunch of messages on my cell saying Fiona was there. When you and your brother showed up, I was trying to find her. We might have our differences, but she’s still my sister, you know?”

Annie had one more question. “Colin, who told you Fiona was at the Kelley House? How did you find her here?”

He shrugged. “Small island. I asked the captain of the On Time. He saw her walk up here.”

Small island, indeed, Annie thought. Reminders were everywhere.

“I’m glad he found me,” Fiona said quietly, and Annie realized she’d forgotten that the girl was there.

Then, as Annie turned to leave, Colin offered one last comment.

“If you want to know what else is going on with the Flanagans, I suggest you talk to Taylor.”

Taylor? Her again?