Carrie Alexander - Count on a Cop Read online

  “I’m sending Josh to you early,” Jen said. “I’ve had enough of the kid for this summer.”

  “What?”

  “You’re always saying you don’t get to see him. Consider this my gift to you.”

  “But I’m in Maine. On an island.”

  “That’ll be a challenge.” Jen was breezy now that she believed the issue was decided. “Bruce and I are going to a cooking class in Paris for ten days. The girls have tennis camp.”

  “Cooking class,” Sean repeated. Jen had changed. The woman he remembered wouldn’t let a chef’s knife near her manicure.

  “Bruce’s idea. All of a sudden he’s a French chef. I’ll be shopping while he’s chopping.”

  “But what about Josh?”

  “Keep up. Josh will be with you.”

  Sean closed his eyes. The fire had warmed him through. “When?”

  “As soon as I can book a flight. What’s the nearest airport? After your son’s latest escapade, the sooner he’s out of my sight the better.”

  “What did he do now?” Sean asked, trying to keep the smile from his voice. For once, he almost didn’t care what the bad behavior had been. It was getting him what he wanted.

  AFTER MAKING CERTAIN that Pippa was asleep, Connie got into her pajamas and went downstairs to make a cup of tea. She carried the cup and one of Suzy Q’s coconut cupcakes over to the corner chair.

  No sweater. She still felt flushed.

  The tea was too hot to drink. She checked her cell phone for reception and dialed Lena in Boston. They hadn’t talked in a couple of weeks.

  “Connie!” Lena squealed.

  The bite of cupcake she’d just taken went down the wrong way. She wasn’t used to such girlish enthusiasm from Lena, who spoke and traveled at the same clip—swift and low-key.

  “Mmph. Lena. I expected voice mail.”

  “What are you eating?”

  “Coconut cupcake.”

  “Lucky. I have a packet of water crackers and a shriveled-up piece of Stilton. My cupboards are bare.”

  “Aren’t they always?”

  “No matter. I had dinner with a client at L’Espalier.”

  “A client? Too bad.” Lena’s love life was only slightly more active than Connie’s.

  “What about you?”

  “Wall-to-wall clients. Yesterday I walked in on Sheffield making out with one of the maids.”

  “I’d heard that about him. Has he gone for you yet?”

  “No. Thank God.”

  “You’re probably being all widowish.”

  “In buttoned collars and sensible shoes?” Connie smiled. “You’ll be pleased to know there was a cocktail party last night and I wore that silk dress of yours.”

  “Sexy.” Lena whistled. “Aren’t you glad I talked you into taking it along?”

  “I suppose, but I also wore a sweater. It was chilly.”

  “Then not so sexy. Did anyone notice? Were there any single male guests that aren’t the kind to diddle the maids?”

  “Well…”

  Lena was clearly surprised that she took a beat to respond. “You met someone?”

  “I met someone.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Divorced. One child. Tall, dark and handsome.”

  “Excellent. Any drawbacks?”

  “There is the bullet hole in his leg.”

  “What?”

  “A bullet hole. He’s a statie.”

  Lena hooted. “Leave it to you to find a wounded state trooper in the wilds of Maine. Where’s he stationed—in the city?”

  “No, he said but I can’t remember. Somewhere in the middle of the state. Pippa’s practically in love with him.”

  “She is? That’s a surprise.” Lena knew how attached Pippa had been to her father. “But what about you?”

  “I’m…interested. But it’s only been a few days. Seems like more, though. You know how it is when you meet someone you click with and it’s a natural attraction, hardly awkward at all?”

  “I’ve heard stories.” Connie could hear Lena shaking her head. “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t know. There’s the bullet hole to consider. And the fact that he claims to be a hermit.”

  “Most men fancy themselves hermits, as long as hermits get ESPN. You can overcome that easy enough.”

  “Not so easy in this case, but…” Connie considered. “Maybe. He’s showing signs of life.”

  “Wow. I am stunned.” Lena bit into a cracker. “Here’s the test. Have you kissed him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now I’m really stunned.”

  “And I didn’t even think about Philip when it happened.” Connie bit her lip. Her gut churned. Everyone had told her she had to move on with her life, but kissing another man without qualms over her husband’s memory was moving faster than she’d expected. “That’s supposed to be good for me, right?”

  “After three years? Hell, yes.”

  “I wish I had your certainty.”

  “What does Pippa think, aside from being in love with him?” Lena asked gently.

  “That part is tricky. She loves him for his occupational skills. I don’t know how she’d be if we were dating.”

  “Then you’re going to be dating. It’s not just a vacation fling.”

  “I don’t know. I’m probably not even capable of a fling.”

  “Everyone’s capable. Remember what I did when I went to Round Hill two Christmases ago?”

  “Ah, yes—the sailboat charter guy. But you knew that you’d never see him again.”

  “Until he showed up at my office in Ray-Bans and Bermuda shorts.”

  “I forgot about that.” She took a big bite of the cupcake. “I am never having a fling.”

  “Maybe that’s what you need. I like staties as much as the next girl, but I’d rather have one out of uniform than in.”

  More cupcake. She’d forgotten how direct Lena could be, always sure that she knew what to do and how to do it. She was usually correct, but then her emotions weren’t nearly as mercurial as Connie’s could be. Lena didn’t need impulse control; she had no impulses, only directives. Even the sailboat guy had been planned before she’d left on vacation: golf, sand, sun, sex.

  Connie scraped the cupcake paper with her teeth. Her lists featured aphid poison and fertilizer. “Well. I haven’t actually seen him in uniform.”

  Lena exhaled. “Look, Con, don’t take offense. You know I’m thrilled down to my pinkie toes that you’ve finally found a guy you’re interested in. But cops have dangerous jobs. They get shot at. Yours already has a bullet wound.”

  “People die without being shot at.”

  “Okay.”

  “Pippa’s not that attached.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, I wanted you to. I’m not—This is strange for me.” Connie pressed her face against her knees. “I needed your clear head.”

  “I had half a bottle of Bordeaux with dinner.”

  They laughed, but Connie’s heart wasn’t in it. She wanted that feeling back, the flying sensation of being one inch away from falling in love. Instead, she had a realistic list of why she should keep away from Sean: his job, her job, his far-away son, her needy daughter. The lingering memory of Phil.

  Moving on didn’t mean leaving their old lives behind. The baggage would have to come with them.

  Maybe there was simply too much of it.

  THE GARDEN PARTY AND MAZE unveiling was less exclusive than the cocktail party. Two large striped tents had been set up on the lawn. Caterers had arrived by ferry that morning with truckloads of equipment and preprepared food. In the second tent, a dance floor had been laid.

  By the time Connie returned to Peregrine House after changing out of her work clothes, a small orchestra was playing lively music. Guests had already begun trickling in on foot from all over the island, gawking over the garden and maze.

  Connie let herself through the back door into the kitch
en. She’d spent the morning grooming the grounds until they were impeccable—unnecessary fussbudgetry, really—with Pippa as her assistant to tote the hedge clippers and whisk broom. They’d strung up the wide satin ribbon Kay had wanted for the ribbon-cutting. Pippa had retied the bow four times before she was satisfied.

  Back at the guesthouse, Sean had arrived as Connie was climbing out of the tiny shower stall. She’d sent Pippa to entertain him until she’d emerged in a pair of good pants and a lightweight cashmere sweater that he’d claimed was the color of the Connemara hills. She had said that clearly he’d kissed the Blarney Stone one time too many, which led to Pippa’s needing an explanation of what that meant. With only a twinge over the spiky memory of Lena’s words and her own doubts the night before, Connie had left the pair of them in close cahoots.

  “Don’t you look nice, Mrs. Bradford,” said Rachel Wells, the housekeeper, a village widow. She was only in her midforties, a slender woman with upswept hair and a sedate demeanor. In her mouth, the familiar Maine accent was as rich and sweet as jam made from the island’s wild berries. “Mrs. Sheffield, now. She’s wearing silk and pearls, with a pair of those shoes my daughter claims cost six hundred dollars.”

  Rachel looked at Connie. “I can’t imagine. The ways these people waste money.”

  Connie smiled noncommittally. She’d never spent more than a hundred bucks on a single pair of shoes, but Lena certainly had. That didn’t make her a bad person though.

  “La-di-dah,” sniped one of the maids, passing through the kitchen with a handful of tableware. Connie recognized her as the young woman from the butler’s pantry. Jealous.

  “Hush, Kitty,” Rachel said. The housekeeper returned her gaze to Connie. “Mrs. Sheffield’s stiletto heels should do a fine job aerating the sod.”

  Connie dodged one of the caterers, passing by with a platter of lobster rolls. “Then I take it Kay won’t be running the maze.”

  “I expect she’ll be sticking close to Mr. Sheffield’s side,” Rachel said with a glance at the young maid’s twitching hips. Kitty was an islander, with heavily made-up eyes and an insolent mouth. “Are you ready for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Mrs. Bradford?”

  Although they had chatted several times over tea and shared stories—Rachel having lost her lobsterman husband to the sea some years before—Connie had given up on getting the woman to call her by her first name. The locals kept a distance between themselves and the summer people, while Connie had to straddle both worlds.

  “Just about ready,” she said.

  “The island children are certainly looking forward to your maze,” Rachel replied. “Even my sullen teenagers are out to win the prize. They’re expecting something lavish, like a sports car, no matter what I say about how miserly rich people can be.” It was the housekeeper’s daughter Molly who’d sat with Pippa the other night.

  “They’re sure to be disappointed,” Connie said. “I’ve been told there will be one prize for the children and another for the adults. Which reminds me, I came to see if you have a pair of scissors for the ribbon-cutting.”

  “Certainly.” Rachel slid open a drawer. “My kitchen scissors. Don’t misplace them.”

  “I’m surprised the lady of the manor didn’t buy a special golden-handled pair,” sniffed Kitty, returning from the butler’s pantry. “With diamond studs.”

  “That’ll be enough, Kitty,” Rachel snapped. “Take that tray of extra wineglasses to the caterer’s tent.” She closed the door behind the maid and the departing catering assistants before shaking her head. “That girl is riding for a fall.”

  Connie ran her thumb along the blade of the scissor. “Then you know.”

  “It’s no secret, even to Mrs. Sheffield.”

  Which explained the increased petulance, Connie supposed. The Sheffields had been at odds all week.

  “Not that she admits it,” Rachel said. She pressed her lips into a straight line while she polished the countertops and chrome faucet. “Neither should I.”

  “I’ll keep it zipped,” Connie promised, although she had to wonder if there might be a connection between the pair’s squabbles and the suspicious conversation Pippa had overheard in the maze. Unlikely, she decided. Even absurd.

  But she would like to place the two men…before Pippa did.

  A thought occurred to her. “You were here late last night.”

  “Yes,” Rachel said. “Mrs. Sheffield asked me to stay to help serve dinner. The cook went home early to start her day off. The guests were wearing on her nerves.”

  “I see. Then the houseguests were also here?”

  “As far as I know.”

  That didn’t help much, as Connie had no way to identify which of them might have been in the maze. “What about rest of the staff?”

  “Kitty and Mary-Rose were here.” Both maids.

  “No one else?” Connie was trying to remember if the Sheffields employed any other men besides Graves and the local boy who helped him with the heavier grounds-keeping. Both lived in the village and should not have been on the estate after dark.

  “None that I can think of.” Rachel eyed Connie. “Why do you ask? Was that why you called? I suppose Pippa got into something she shouldn’t have. That girl is some snoop.”

  Connie wasn’t sure how Rachel meant that, but she hadn’t known the woman to be snide. She gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Turns out that was a false alarm. Pippa’s perfectly fine.”

  Rachel raised her eyebrows even higher; Connie felt she had to elaborate. “We—I found her right away. She’d only gone for a walk, without realizing how quickly night would fall. I was asking who was here because apparently there were also a couple of men somewhere on the grounds last night. Pippa heard them.”

  “Oh. Two men, was it? According to Pippa…” The housekeeper laughed.

  “I know.” Connie didn’t smile. “Probably her imagination.” She held up the scissors, preparing to leave. “Thanks for these.”

  “Wait,” Rachel said. “There was a mechanic. He’d been working on the convertible, and Mr. Sheffield wanted it delivered to the house before morning.”

  “When was the mechanic here?”

  “I couldn’t say precisely, except that dinner was over. I offered him a cup of coffee and a slice of cake while I finished wiping down the counters.” Rachel seemed bemused by all the questions. “It was Wink Kennedy. He’s been the island mechanic for thirty-odd years.”

  Sheffield and an ancient mechanic? An unlikely pair. But if so, Connie recalled something they’d said, according to Pippa. “Is there a local meeting spot, possibly scenic, some sort of rock?”

  “A rock?” Rachel laughed again. “Really, Mrs. Bradford. There are rocks all over the island.”

  “Of course. But maybe this is a special place, known particularly to the islanders?”

  “Are you planning an outing?”

  “After today’s over, I’ll be on vacation,” Connie said, evading her question. “Pippa wants to explore.”

  “There’s Whitlock’s Arrow and Cutter Head. They’re on all the maps. And that large, mossy rock near the yacht club is something of a landmark.”

  “Hmm. Yes, I know it.”

  “Speaking of the yacht club, you should bring Pippa to the regatta on Sunday. We take our own picnics and chairs, but we have just as good a time as the club members.”

  “I may do that,” Connie said, distracted by the rising volume of music and conversation outside. She’d wasted enough time.

  “Bring your man, too,” Rachel said with a little wink.

  Connie twisted the scissors in her hand. She clenched her fist around the cool metal. “I don’t have a man.”

  “No?” Rachel’s smile was aggravatingly serene. Almost smug. “Perhaps I’m mistaken, then, and that handsome fellow from Pine Cone Cottage wasn’t with you last night.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Pippa Bradford’s Book of Curious Observations

  CLUES FOUND at the garden party:


  1. Mr. Sheffield flirts a lot. He even put his hand on one lady’s rear end, when Mrs. S. was standing by him. Yuck.

  2. The old man gardener who doesn’t like my mom has dirty fingernails. He was hanging out at the fountain in the maze until Mr. S. made him leave.

  3. I saw one of the man guests and the blond lady who looks like Mrs. S. pour extra alcohall into the punch. It already had alcohall because I tasted some by accident on purpose. It was disgusting.

  4. The maid Kitty was crying in the kitchen (she has red hair like me and is beautiful when she’s not crying). Mrs. S. thinks she stole a diamond ring but she didn’t. The other maid said she should quit and take the Sheffields to court for slander and win a million dollars. Mrs. Wells told them to be quiet or they would both be fired. Then she caught me eavesdropping and she made me go. So I don’t know what else happened.

  5. Molly Wells kissed a boy behind one of the tents. I don’t like her very much because she is only fifteen and she thinks she’s the boss of me!

  6. Some people were talking about how much money the Sheffields have. They said the paintings should be in a museum and Mrs. S.’s jewelry was worth a fortune. They said that anybody could walk in to steal stuff, but that Mrs. S. probably just lost her diamond.

  P.S. from before the party: Mr. Rafferty has a SON named JOSHUA!!! He used to be married to Jen, I think. I heard him on his cell phone and he sounded kind of mad at her, but then he was happy because his son is coming here. Oh, boy.

  MIDWAY THROUGH THE afternoon, Anders Sheffield called for the guests to gather around for the ribbon-cutting. He waved them over with the hand that wasn’t holding a scotch and, looking rather bored with the entire event, surrendered the floor to his wife.

  In her silk and pearls with a sun hat so large it could have sheltered a small family, Kay might have been fresh in from a day at Ascot. After a brief welcoming speech and a self-congratulatory discourse on the importance of preserving Osprey Island history for future generations, she introduced Connie. “Kudos to our brilliant garden designer, Connemara Bradford.”