Murder in a Different Light (A Grace Tolliver Cape Cod Mystery Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty- Seven

  Chapter Twenty- Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty- One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  About the Author

  The Caper

  Murder in a Different Light

  Patricia Driscoll

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2015 by Patricia Driscoll

  All Rights reserved

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except where prohibited by law.

  Formatting by RikHall.com

  Cover design: Dave Fymbo- Limelight Book Covers

  Acknowledgements

  Nick Klimenko, husband, reader, consultant. L.U.M.T.A.

  Heartfelt thanks to my beta readers, Thomas Driscoll, Jo Schultz and Malena Elumaily, for their generous advice and encouragement.

  Thanks to Rosie and Harry Walwyn for the use of their family name.

  For

  Daniel B. Driscoll

  Chapter One

  Almost three years after her husband Jack died, and a year since she quit her job as a probation officer and purchased Pearl’s, a run-down antique lamp shop, in a cozy Cape Cod village, Grace Tolliver sailed into her shop with her latest lamp bargain from the local consignment store stashed under her arm. It was a glorious day, the sun still cool, yet shimmering, with a promise of heat. She shuddered when she spotted her employee Michael Shipworth teetering on the top step of a ladder, vigorously pounding a nail into the wall.

  “Hi, Grace,” Michael greeted her. “I just finished installing this shelf. The black color is very nice and will be wonderful with those white empire lampshades.” The ladder wobbled as Michael turned back to the wall and grasped the shelf for support.

  Grace held her breath until Michael steadied himself. She wanted to tell him to get down immediately but they’d had this discussion before, with Michael promising never to use the ladder again. He was the prime salesperson in her shop, Pearl’s Antique Lamps and Shades. Problem was, he was not young. Nor middle aged. In fact, he was well past retirement age. At first, Grace figured him to be about seventy years old, however, after checking his employment papers, she found that he was eighty. Her other employee, Bella Benson, was even older than Michael, and had worked at Pearl’s for more than thirty years after having seen some hard duty as a nurse during the Korean War. They were the best possible employees in so many ways, but, Grace constantly worried about them, fearing falls, exhaustion or worse. But Michael, diminutive in stature, dragged his stepladder all over the shop, never appearing to fear the heights that he would climb to fetch a shade or a lamp from a high shelf.

  “That looks great,” Grace said, feeling relief as Michael maneuvered his way down the ladder and planted his tasseled leather shoes on the floor. “Take a look at this alabaster vase I picked up on my way to work. It’s going to make a stunning lamp when Bella rewires it.” Grace sniffed the air. “Phew. Is something burning? Is someone smoking in here?”

  “Bella’s smoking a cigar on the back porch.”

  “I didn’t realize Bella smoked anything, let alone cigars.”

  “It’s a sometime thing,” Michael said. “She’s got company.”

  “I hope her company is leaving soon because we’re supposed to pick up her friends and go hiking in fifteen minutes.”

  “Bella’s hiking group? The Merry Widows? You’re way too young for that group. Those women are forty years older than you. I hope you know how to perform CPR,” Michael chuckled.

  “You might want to join us sometime,” Grace suggested, at which Michael rolled his eyes, picked up his ladder and headed for the storage closet without comment.

  Grace surveyed the space that now housed Pearl’s. When she decided to swap spaces with Beaus’ Books and move her shop to the downstairs of the nineteenth century building, she hadn’t even begun to appreciate the difficulties presented by its general disorder. Lumber, paint cans, tools and electrical cords were strewn around the floors. The windows were covered with plastic, and sawdust filled the air. Boxes of lamps, tools, and shades were scattered around the shop, many draped in old sheets to keep the dust off. It didn’t seem possible that order would ever be found amidst this chaos.

  The front door of Pearl’s opened, and her youngest employee, Duane Kerbey stumbled in, juggling three large boxes that Grace, when packing up the shop for the move, carefully and optimistically labeled ‘Fragile.’ Half of a jelly donut protruded from his mouth, and sweat poured from underneath the bandanna that was wrapped around his head. His lank, fair hair was wet and pulled into a stringy ponytail. “Where do you want these, Ms. Tolliver?”

  “Just stack them on top of those others.” Grace pointed vaguely around the cluttered room, letting the “Ms. Tolliver” salutation go. After all, she’d been trying to convince Duane, her young employee, to call her Grace for the past several months with no success. Sometimes Duane got stuck on something and there was no changing it. Grace was glad she hadn’t said anything. She was trying to be less controlling. Trying not to fix what couldn’t be fixed. Trying not to be like a former probation officer.

  “Don’t sweat on the boxes,” Michael told Duane. “I’m clearing a space in the chandelier room. You can put them in there for now.”

  “It’s hot and these things are heavy,” Duane grumbled as he juggled the boxes affixed with labels marked ‘Bella’s Stuff.’

  She realized they were all tired, and everyone was getting on each other’s nerves. There was always some bickering, mostly of the friendly variety among her employees, but with the stress of the move it seemed to be escalating into more testy territory.

  The screen door leading to the back porch closed with a thump as Be
lla, attired in her customary housedress and slippers, strode purposefully across the room in her characteristic bold manner. A large woman, in Grace’s opinion a look-alike for Julia Child, Bella was a few inches taller than the man who followed her. He was wearing a multi colored Hawaiian shirt with a pair of red sunglasses dangling from his shirt pocket. His face was tanned and weathered. His thick salt and pepper hair was disheveled, as if he’d been out on a boat or clamming in the bay and his smoky ocean blue eyes fixed intensely on Grace. He was a man who had probably seen better days, but who was still very good looking.

  “Grace, this is Ben Walwyn, Imogene’s son,” Bella said. “He’s brought me some photos and knick-knacks that she wanted me to have.”

  Grace instantly recalled Bella’s distress, not long ago, when her closest friend, Imogene, who had served as a nurse with her in Korea, had died after a short illness.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that your mother recently passed away,” Grace said, extending her hand.

  “Thank you,” Ben replied, as he appeared to be struggling to focus his eyes on Grace. When he swayed toward her, she detected the odor of alcohol on his breath.

  Ben scarcely acknowledged Michael and Duane when Grace introduced them, muttering, after kissing Bella’s cheek, that he had to go. As he sauntered down the stairs, a blue truck, brakes screeching, came to a halt in front of the shop, and a man Grace recognized as Mason Crawford leaped out.

  Mason was a familiar person around the courthouse, her former place of employment, because he was usually in jail, about to go to jail, or in a courtroom, trying to get out of jail. Now, his face was crimson, and his words were sizzling as he shouted obscenities at Ben.

  Mason grabbed Ben around the throat with one hand and put his face close to Ben’s. “You double crossed me for the last time, Pal!”

  Ben pulled the hand from his neck. “Get over it!” He pushed Mason, causing him to stumble backwards, but Mason was not one to back down so easily. He steadied himself and took a swing at Ben, which Ben easily deflected.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Ben demanded. “The courthouse is a block away. I’m not going to jail because of you, so get lost.”

  Scowling, Mason climbed in his truck. “I’m not done with you yet!” he said, before driving off at a high rate of speed.

  Ben gave a one-fingered salute in Mason’s direction, put his sunglasses on, slid into his pickup and started the ignition. He stared at Bella and the shop for a minute or two before slowly pulling away from the curb.

  “He looks like he’s had one too many,” Grace said. “I hope he doesn’t kill someone on his way home.”

  Chapter Two

  “Salty Cove must be right around here,” Grace said as she slowed her car, now occupied by Mary, Sharon, and Phyllis, all members of the Merry Widows hiking group. “Didn’t you say it would be on the left?”

  “Yes, we’re really close,” Bella said, peering intently through the windshield.

  “When was the last time you were here?”

  “A couple of months ago,” Bella replied. “I came as often as I could when Imogene was sick. I feel a bit apprehensive, coming here now. Her death, although expected, was difficult for me. I remember her, sitting on the front porch, waiting for me, with cups of jasmine tea and a plate of lemon cookies, served on her pretty white wicker table. We would spend hours talking about our families and our experiences long ago in Korea. She was a delightful person, not without her foibles of course, but so much fun to spend time with.” Bella sighed. “Ben said he’ll be waiting for us and give us a tour. It’s a most remarkable house.”

  “I hear that Salty Cove is nearly in its original condition,” Phyllis said from the back seat. “So many of these historic Cape houses have deteriorated due to age and neglect, slipped into the sea, or remodeled beyond recognition.”

  It had only been a couple of hours since Grace met an intoxicated Ben Walwyn. When Bella informed her that he had invited the Merry Widows to hike at his place, instead of their planned excursion to Sandy Neck Beach, she was apprehensive. But, Bella and the others were so happy with their new plan that she agreed to drive them the extra distance, so that they could tour the property and have their picnic by the private beach in front of the house. The clear September afternoon promised a beautiful sunset. No reason to feel apprehensive just because Ben’s presence at the lamp shop made her uncomfortable. Better to shake off her queasy feelings and enjoy the evening.

  “Look, there’s a bunch of people standing in the cranberry bog,” Mary said. “And there’s a small bus. Is that the latest tourist thing? A trip into the bogs?”

  “I think so,” Grace replied, fondly remembering her trips to Napa and Sonoma during the years she had lived on the west coast. “I guess it’s the same idea as walking into the vineyards, people love getting a close look at things they don’t necessarily see in their own neighborhoods.”

  “God Almighty!” Mary screamed as Grace pulled the steering wheel sharply to her right, and the car skidded along the edge of the road skirting a ditch that was deep enough to cause tumult inside the car as its occupants were bounced around in ways that eighty years olds should not have to experience.

  “Steady, Grace. You’re doing great,” Bella said as she bumped alongside Grace.

  “What the hell was that?” Grace said as she managed to pull the car to a firm stop inches from a sizable boulder. “Is anyone hurt?”

  A few moments of silence caused Grace’s heart to race.

  “No, we’re all okay,” Mary said.

  Grace let out a huge sigh of relief. “Did anyone see anything? All I saw was a dark car crossing the centerline and barreling down on us.”

  “I think it was a black van. They are always going too fast,” Mary said, as if the same reckless person drove all black vans. “I think I saw something sparkly.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” Sharon added. “I was putting my cell phone in my bag, when all of a sudden we were swerving all over the place.”

  “Whoever it was, they were in a big hurry,” Bella said.

  “Yes, and they couldn’t be bothered to stop to see if were all right,” Grace said, her voice trembling. After a moment and a few deep breaths, she started up her engine, her fingers shaking on the wheel. “That was a really close call.”

  Chapter Three

  Grace drove slowly up the driveway, a mix of dirt, sand, and gravel, surrounded by thick scrub pines. After a series of lazy turns, the property known as Salty Cove came into view. The house was immense, weathered to a bleak gray, two stories tall, with several dormers and a long, low porch that sagged in the middle above a short flight of stairs.

  “Oh my goodness!” the three women in the back seat said in unison.

  “Isn’t she an old beauty?” Bella said. “Just like us.”

  “Right you are,” piped up Phyllis. “And look at that ocean view!”

  As for Grace, she felt herself calming down. The near accident on the road had been frightening, and they were all lucky not to have flipped into the cranberry bog. But, this old house, with its expansive lawns, overgrown as they were, and a view to die for, was having a soothing impact on her nerves. Opening the door to the backseat, she watched as her companions straggled out.

  “Ben’s around here someplace,” Bella said reaching back into the car for her walking stick. “I see his truck over by the garden shed. Why don’t we take a walk around? We’re bound to find him.”

  Grace craned her neck to stare up at the house. The roof was uneven, one of many chimneys leaned precariously, and the paint on the trim was peeling. Of course, Grace knew that living by the ocean caused paint to chip and wear off at an alarming speed. Salty Cove had clearly been weathering without intervention for a considerable time.

  Bella led the way to a garden gate smothered in ivy, and they stepped into a once lovely kitchen garden, now full of dead herbs and live weeds.

  “It used to be so well manicured,” she said sa
dly. “Imogene decided to let the gardeners go because Ben said he could take care of things and save money. Besides, she hoped it would give him something constructive to do. Unfortunately, Ben’s idea of taking care of things was quite different from Imogene’s. It’s still impressive, even if it’s not as grand as it was in its heyday.”

  “It’s an absolute dream property. How many acres are we talking about?” Grace asked as she pulled her long chestnut hair off her neck and secured it with a tortoiseshell clip.

  “I’m not sure exactly, maybe three or four. Could be more. There’s quite a bit of beachfront too.”

  “My daughter will want to see this,” Sharon said, taking pictures with her phone.

  They continued walking around the house until they came to an area of deep untended grass that stretched down to the water. “Is this Cape Cod Bay or the ocean?” Phyllis wondered, taking out a package of oyster crackers and swallowing a handful.

  “It’s Cape Cod Bay,” Bella replied, sweeping her arm to the east. “Beyond those hedges, there is a pool and tennis court. Ben was a very accomplished swimmer in his youth,” she sighed. “But, that was a long time ago.”

  “I’d like to take a peek at the courts and the pool,” Grace said, swatting a black fly that was hovering around her eyes. “Then, we better go back to the house and see if Ben has shown up.”

  The group of five ambled around the tennis courts now overgrown with wildflowers, the poles listing, an old net, full of holes, sagging on the cracked sizzling surface.

  “I’m sure Ben will be able to give us more history of the property,” Bella said, as she and Grace trailed the others over to the pool.

  “Yes. I’m sure he will,” Grace said. A slight breeze was coming off the water now, and the early evening sky was deepening, turning shades of melon and teal. The birds were quieting down and the sea was calm. Small waves lapped the water’s edge.

  “Help!” someone cried. “Oh my God! Grace, come quick!”