Free A Fatal Fleece by Sally Goldenbaum Page B

Gabby. I saw her riding that ancient bike of yours around Canary Cove today. Ham and Jane were standing outside their gallery, doubled over laughing. There she was, hair flying, some funny-looking little hat slapped on her head, and next to her, wobbling along and trying to keep up, was Finnegan in his new fleece vest.”
    “Finnegan? On a bike?” Nell laughed.
    “If you can call it that. It looked like something he had as a kid.”
    “She’s brought new life to him. I worried a bit about her bothering him—”
    “No worry there. Finnegan doesn’t stand on ceremony. If he didn’t want her around, he’d chase her off.”
    “An understatement.” Ben came in from the deck. The smell of charcoal trailed in behind him.
    “We’re talking about Gabby and Finn, I can tell,” Izzy said, following Cass and Danny across the room.
    “She’s a great distraction for him,” Cass said. “The best thing that could have happened, with things heating up at his place.”
    Nell frowned. “Heating up how?”
    “Beatrice Scaglia is on his case something fierce. A lot of those homeowners on the hill above Canary Cove are up in arms over the continued mess of his property.”
    Ben added, “Folks are insisting she do something about it. Davey Delaney is fueling their fury. The Delaneys are drooling to get their hands on that land. It’s the last waterfront property available near town.”
    Cass set a covered platter on the counter. “But it’s not available. It’s Finn’s.”
    “Cass is right,” Izzy said. “Congresswoman Scaglia is just looking for a cause.”
    “I don’t know about that,” Ben said. “Beatrice has pretty high aspirations, and it all begins here in Sea Harbor. State representative? Who knows? But that means pleasing voters. This is serious business for her.”
    “She’s a tough nut,” Danny said. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and took a beer from the refrigerator. “I was writing on the Palate’s deck yesterday, and she was canvassing the place for support. Getting people’s take on things. Stirring them up, it looked to me. She even had Finnegan’s daughter agreeing with her.”
    “Beverly?”
    “Yeah. She and Davey Delaney were there, talking over in the corner, and Beatrice wandered over and left a flyer behind.”
    “It wouldn’t take much to convince Beverly,” Cass said. She peeled the foil wrap off a tray of lobster rangoon.
    Izzy leaned over her shoulder, eyeing the crisp appetizers. “Good grief, is this my old friend Cass? What’s happened to you? Has Danny turned you into a domestic diva?”
    Cass shoved Izzy’s hand away from the plate. “Brandley made these. I catch lobsters. I don’t cook them.”
    Cass didn’t eat them, either, which they teased her mercilessly about—the lobster fisherwoman who shuns her catch. “I’m just too close to them,” was her traditional response. But tonight she didn’t joke back. Nell watched her brisk response. Cass was usually the first to laugh at herself, but Izzy’s comment seemed to have struck a chord. Something was on Cass’ mind, and Nell didn’t think it was lobster rangoon.
    “So you think Beatrice’s political aspirations are pushing her efforts?” Birdie looked at Ben.
    “Probably. She needs the voters on her side, and Finnegan is a thorn in her efforts.”
    “I saw the two get into it in Archie’s bookstore the other night,” Izzy said. “Beatrice looked like she’d like to kill him. Poor Sal stood quietly by, two steps behind her, just like in the royal family.”
    Sal was shy, but he was his wife’s biggest supporter. Some thought it a perfect match. He was good-looking, in a subdued, Clark Kent kind of way. He cleaned up nicely, as Birdie would say. And he was content to live in the shadow of the ambitious Beatrice—and in the comfort of her family fortune.
    The slamming of the front screen door, the slap of Birkenstocks on the floor, and swish of a long peasant skirt announced the arrival of