A Despicable Mission (Olympia Brown Mysteries) Read online

  Also in the succession of midlife options was the little detail of her professional career. This summer would tell her if parish ministry was going to be a serious consideration or not. And then there was Frederick. She’d met him the previous summer, and since that time, their growing relationship had taken several favorable turns. He was a wonderful man, and she was pretty sure she might be thinking about, possibly considering, falling in love with him … maybe.

  There was no doubt that he had marriage in mind, but she wasn’t even about to let him mention the word. Not now, anyway. He wasn’t exactly on the back burner. More like a really good soup, fine wines, and single malt whiskeys, all of which took a long time to mature, Frederick was on slow simmer and coming along nicely.

  “Life is what happens while you are making other plans.”

  On the top deck of the ferry, not fifty feet away from where Olympia was making soothing noises to the cats, two people, looking for all the world like tourists on a day trip, were standing in the lee of the rumbling smoke stack. They were deep in a conversation that was completely and conveniently inaudible to anyone who might pass by. Alden Francis was shading his eyes against the brilliant mid-day sun as he talked to Mary Beth Lessing, an angular, sandal-shod woman standing next to him.

  “What about the paperwork, MB? How does it look to you?”

  Mary Beth held up a canvas tote bag with Martha’s Vineyard blazoned in pink and green across the front and made a circle with her thumb and forefinger.

  “It’s perfect. Nobody will question it, and not a minute too soon, either. Looks like we’re ready to roll on this one.”

  Al Francis rubbed his chin. He needed a shave. “I still think we’re pushing our luck with this one. It’s too close to the other one—too many parallels someone could pick up on.”

  “Ordinarily I’d agree with you,”’ said Mary Beth, “but Bateson assures me that this one’s dead ripe and ready to fall. Said she’s eating out of his hand. Just a matter of signing these papers I’ve got in here, and we’re off on the next ferry.”

  “I hope you’re right, but no matter how you see it, I think we’re cutting it a little too close.”

  “You worry too much. Bateson knows what he’s doing. So do you. We’ll disappear and lay low after this one until we decide where to, uh, relocate. We’re in the business, remember? This is what we do.”

  “Until our luck runs out.”

  Mary Beth shook her head. “That’s where I disagree with you. I’m the X-factor that no one’s looking for. No one expects a woman to be involved in anything like this. Remember, I’m the elder affairs lawyer. At least I play one on television. I give lectures on how to manage finances in your golden years. I wear the white hat, come in at the end and solve everyone’s problems.”

  “And then get the hell out of there before dawn breaks over old Marblehead.”

  “Something like that.”

  “It’s just that the last one didn’t go exactly according to plan.”

  “It damn sure didn’t, but it wasn’t my fault. She wasn’t supposed to break her neck. That really was an accident.”

  The two swayed with the motion of the ferry as it made the final turn into the harbor towards the slip. Mary Beth shaded her eyes and looked toward the shore. “I’m going to miss this place. It’s really pretty here.”

  “Tough place to find a drink though,” said Al.

  Four

  On the mezzanine deck Olympia watched through a salt-flecked window as the ferry chummed along. The day was travel brochure perfect, not too hot with a light breeze coming off a green-blue sea that was flashing sparkles of sunlight in all directions. Olympia would have preferred to be topside, but in deference to the cats she remained seated next to them. Her mind was racing ahead of the wind as she wondered how in heaven she was going to get all of her baggage off the boat, and if people from the church would remember to come and meet her, and what the guest cottage she would be staying in would be like, and finally … what would she have for lunch?

  She was startled out of her thoughts by a flat voice coming out of a crackly loudspeaker, telling car drivers to return to their vehicles and which side the foot passengers would be disembarking. Olympia stood to see which way the crowd was moving and wishing she remembered which side was port and which was starboard when a voice behind her said, “You wouldn’t be Reverend Olympia Brown would you?”

  Olympia turned to see a tall, suntanned woman standing behind her, smiling all over in welcome and holding out a large freckled hand. Olympia took the woman’s hand and said, “I’m Olympia Brown, but how did you know?”

  “It’s a small island,” said the woman, slinging one of Olympia’s bags over her shoulder and scooping up both cat carriers. “I’m Leigh Mayhew; I’m a member of the church you’re coming to. We’ve heard all about you, right down to the cats, Thunderfoot and Whitefoot, yes?”

  “That’s them,” said Olympia, picking up the remaining bags and extending the handle on the mega-suitcase she’d found in a local thrift shop. She looked around herself and wondered just how small this island was going to be.

  “Were you on the boat all this time?” she asked.

  “Topside,” said Leigh, moving toward an exit sign. “You always meet someone you know on this thing. We got talking. When I came down the stairs and saw this woman with a pile of luggage and two cats, I knew it had to be you. Next time, put your suitcases on the cart.”

  “Cart?” asked Olympia, trying to negotiate the aisle with her load.

  “There’s a baggage cart for walk-on passengers.” Leigh spoke over her shoulder and led the charge as the two women swayed and bumped their way into the line of passengers shuffling towards the debarkation door.

  “Do you know the people who are going to meet me and where I’m staying?” Olympia hoped she could be heard over the chatter of the passengers.

  “Julia Scott-Norton’s in charge of that,” said Leigh, hiking one of the sliding bags back up on her shoulder. “She’s super organized. She’ll be there waiting for you. No need to worry.” She paused. “The other member of the welcoming committee is William Bateson.”

  Leigh dropped her voice and leaned toward Olympia. “He’s relatively new. He joined the church a couple months ago and got into the swing of things right from the start. A little too quick for my taste—but then, I’m an old Yankee, and we take generations to do anything.” She rolled her eyes and laughed at her own joke.

  The exit door opened, and the crowd moved as a single body in the direction of fresh air. Olympia walked close beside Leigh so she could hear her companion over the surrounding chatter.

  “He’s helpful, but he’s everywhere at once, if you get my drift.”

  Olympia thought she did but offered no comment.

  “He fusses over the old ladies,” said Leigh, walking carefully on the sharply inclined ramp. “Actually, I think he might be gay. You know the type, affected and kind of flirty and attentive. Anyway, they all love it. I guess he’s OK, just not my style. Too much, too quick for my island reserve. We like to take a little longer in getting to know people. Habit, I guess.”

  Again Olympia made no comment. She headed out the exit door with her overload of baggage and Leigh chattering on like they had known each other for years.

  “There they are,” she said, indicating with a nod of her head. “William is the one with the flowers, and Julia’s the woman beside him with the wraparound sunglasses.”

  Olympia spotted them, lifted her chin and smiled. Waving was totally out of the question. She stayed as close as she could to Leigh and picked her way carefully down the passenger ramp to her welcoming committee of two. Behind her deliberately eager smile, she was hoping this had been a wise decision. But now, walking down the plank, there was no turning back. It was too late for second thoughts. In those last few moments before she set foot on the island of Martha’s Vineyard for the very first time, she ran her fingers through her windblown hair, patted it i
nto place and hoped she was putting her best foot forward. She looked out at the multicolored assemblage of people gathered around the base of the exit ramp and realized that she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  But really Olympia, isn’t all of life a mystery? You’re a minister, for God’s sake, what did you expect? And with that scrap of philosophic self-assurance, Olympia took a deep breath and stepped forward to join them.

  Five

  November 26, 1860

  I feel such a stranger here. The crowded streets and red brick buildings of Cambridge, Massachusetts are a long way and a far cry from the little town I left behind. But I have come here because I need time to think and to prepare for a life I could not have imagined a year ago. God bless my stalwart and progressive aunt. Without her, this would have been so much more difficult…but not impossible.

  More anon, LFW

  Leigh Mayhew steered Olympia though a shifting sea of overheated men and women, barking dogs, sticky children and bulging suitcases. When they cleared the crowd she introduced her to Julia Scott-Norton, a pewter haired woman who could have been in her middling fifties, and William Bateson, a man who was slightly shorter than Julia, impeccably dressed and holding a coffee can full of beach roses and wild daisies.

  “Here, let me help you with those things,” said William, taking the roller-suitcase handle out of Olympia’s hands and replacing it with the flowers. Julia Scott-Norton relieved Leigh of one of the cat carriers and immediately began making cat-comforting noises to the wide-eyed captives. Olympia smiled gratefully, sniffed at the flowers and promptly sneezed.

  “Oh, dear,” said William “I hope you’re not allergic. These things grow all over the island. If they bother you, you’re going to have a hard time.”

  “Nope, just the salt air and change of temperature. I’ll be OK in a minute.” Olympia smiled and sniffed the flowers a second time to prove her point.

  Julia took command without ever saying a word, and in a few well-organized minutes, the four of them were trooping through the parking lot toward a dusty green minivan. Leigh waved an energetic farewell, saying she’d see them at the pot-luck that night, and she hoped Olympia would like the cottage, and she was so glad she was here and …

  Pot luck tonight? But what about …

  Olympia said nothing, trusting that all would be made clear in due time. Distance and passing cars obliterated the rest of Leigh’s enthusiastic verbal stream of consciousness, and she climbed into the car. Olympia smiled and waved. That woman could talk, but even in those few moments it was clear she had a heart as big as she was tall, and she wore it high on her sleeve for all to see.

  Olympia squashed herself into the middle seat of the van and sat with an uneasy cat on either side of her. William took the passenger seat next to Julia and then looked back over his shoulder to check on her. When they were buckled in, Julia started the engine, eased out of the waiting area into a slowly moving line of traffic, and immediately began the orientation tour. She had a lovely low, clear speaking voice.

  “This is five corners,” she said over her shoulder, “the land of restaurants, rental agencies and the occasional protest demonstration and peace rally. I’ll get us through it as best I can, but from the end of May until the end of September, it’s a madhouse.” She turned back and laughed. “I tell people the only way to get through is to shut your eyes and step on it.”

  Olympia hoped she was joking but didn’t know Julia well enough to ask. Once they were through the intersection, she turned right onto the main street of Vineyard Haven. Looking back and forth through the open windows, Olympia took in as much as she could and within minutes was on visual overload. The place was sweet and colorful, like stepping into a candy house at Christmas time. After a few more lefts and rights which entirely did in Olympia’s sense of direction, Julia turned onto West Maple Street and pulled over in front of a little house that seemed to be growing out of the larger dwelling next to it. It wasn’t much bigger than a garage, and soon Olympia would learn that was exactly how it started out. She would also learn that just about anything that could be made into a living space or a rental unit was soon converted. Life was expensive on the island, and affordable rentals were at a premium.

  William waved his hand in the direction of the diminutive purple and white cottage.

  “Here you are, Reverend Brown, home sweet dollhouse. Or as we say in the real estate business, quaint and cozy, which further translates into tiny. It used to be a two-car garage with a door connecting to the main house. Eudora West, she’s the owner, put up a couple of walls, added a kitchenette and a broom closet that passes for a bathroom, and voila! A guest house. She lets the church use it if she isn’t renting it.” He lowered his voice to a more confidential tone. “She’s getting on, though, might not be able to do it too much longer. She wanted to come and meet you, but she’d made other plans. You’ll love her. She’s a real sweetheart, isn’t she Julia?”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Olympia leaned forward to open the mini-van door, but William Bateson was fast ahead of her. In one motion he’d opened the passenger door and picked up a cat carrier while she was still fumbling with her seat belt. Once unbuckled, she picked up her other cat carrier and walked up a weed-sprinkled brick path to her new home away from home.

  Julia stepped between the two of them, opened the grape colored door and stood to one side so Olympia could be the first to go in. It smelled like it had been closed up for a while, not musty or moldy, just very much in need of an open window or two or three and a good, stiff breeze.

  William Bateson set down his cat carrier inside the door and began describing the place to Olympia. “It is small, but I think you’ll find it has everything, including a teeny second bedroom which you might want to use for an office. You even have a fenced-in yard for the felines. Without saying a word, Julia took William’s arm and turned him around, stopping him mid-spiel. “Come on. We’ll go out for the rest of her things. That way she can have a little look around for herself.”

  “But I thought I might …”

  Julia smiled and moved him toward the door.

  Olympia chuckled at the interchange and made a mental note of it as she turned back to look at the home that the generous Mrs. West had so graciously offered her. Julia was right, it did seem to have everything a person could need and most of it within arm’s reach. The design was clever and made good use of every available inch. Olympia took a deep breath, counted to ten and went to oversee the rest of the unloading.

  Once all of the bags and boxes were inside, Julia gave her a quick inventory.

  “The futon sofa here opens to a double bed, if you need extra sleeping accommodations. You did say you were unmarried, did you not? She looked at Olympia over the top of her glasses.

  “I’m not married.”

  William looked away and fingered his lapel, and Julia started opening windows.

  Suddenly Olympia felt very tired. As much as these two were trying to make her feel welcome, she wanted nothing more than to be alone with her cats and settle in to her new digs by herself.

  “About the car,” she started to say.

  “We’ll be bringing it by later this afternoon, about five-thirty. You can follow us back to the church for the pot-luck. Don’t worry about bringing anything this time. I’ve already made enough for an army. Vegetarian, eggs and dairy, right?” Julia was now fluffing pillows and straightening curtains.

  “Tonight?” said Olympia.

  “Everybody in the church wanted to do something to welcome you, and pot-lucks are such an island thing. We told everyone you’re vegetarian, so you’ll probably have bean sprouts growing out of your ears by the end of your stay here.”

  Once again Julia laughed at her little joke, and Olympia added another mental note to her list. Misses nothing!

  “I can stay and help if you’d like.” William was nodding his head.

  “That’s really kind of you, William,” said Olympia,
“but I’ve been up since five this morning, and I need to sit down and put my feet up for a while.”

  “Of course, of course, of course. Silly of me. You need to be alone. Maybe later.”

  Olympia smiled and covered an exaggerated yawn.

  Julia turned toward Olympia but spoke to William.

  “I’ll meet you out in the car. I just need to speak to The Reverend about some church business.”

  “Oh, please do call me Olympia. I much prefer it.”

  “Surely, Olympia. We’ve had a death over the weekend, an elderly lady named Mary Parker. She was an island character and member of the church, but she didn’t come very often. She preferred going out to lunch—said she got more out of it.” Julia winked and continued. “Her son hasn’t said what they want in terms of a service yet, but he implied there was a problem. It’s all rather unclear at the moment. I do think it will be a graveside service rather than something in the chapel. Dan, that’s her son, will undoubtedly want to meet with you. I’m hoping you have a cell phone. I’m not sure what the telephone arrangement is in the cottage yet.”

  Olympia gulped. “Oh, gosh, I left it charging on my dresser at home. I’ll have Frederick bring it this weekend.”

  “Frederick?”

  She swallowed a second time. “Um, he’s a good friend. He’s coming down for the weekend. I’ll ask him to bring it with him. So you don’t know if there’s a working phone in the cottage?” Olympia looked around, trying to see if she could locate one.

  “I’m sure there is, but I think it might just be an extension off the main phone in Dory’s house. I’ll leave any messages with Dory until we’ve sorted it out.”