I set the timer on the stove before giving Laddie and Mona Lisa their dinners. Then I went outside with Laddie. He wandered around while I sat in the shade on the patio. I was checking the weather forecast on my phone when Brooks called.
“Amanda, I've reported Olivia's kidnapping to the police,” he said without preamble. “I thought about what you said, and you're right. Whoever's behind the kidnapping could strike again. I thought I should give you a heads-up because I'm sure the police will be getting in touch with you.”
“All right. Thanks for letting me know. I'm a little surprised. You seemed to be against the idea of notifying the police when I saw you yesterday.”
“Yes, well. Let's just say I've thought better of it, even though Olivia and Gabrielle didn't want me to do it.”
I could understand the reason Olivia might not want to endure a police interrogation after her ordeal and now her worry about Ulysses's condition, but I had no idea why Gabrielle hadn't wanted Brooks to report the kidnapping to the police. Perhaps she didn't want the hassle of answering questions, but I knew she couldn't avoid that. The police were sure to talk to everybody who'd been at the paint-out on Saturday when Olivia had disappeared. I had no idea what the chances were of the police finding the kidnapper, but I was hoping they had a better shot at it than they did of finding the driver who had run Ulysses off the road.
My apple pie was still warm when Laddie and I approached Belle's front door an hour later. The door swung open before we went up the front steps, and Mr. Big ran outside to greet us. Belle called him back inside, and he complied, but then he ran back out to Laddie. I carefully stepped around him so that I wouldn't trip over the excited little dog.
“I'll set the pie on the counter,” Belle said, taking the box I'd put the pie in. “It smells so good. I haven't had apple pie for ages. We have some French vanilla ice cream that would be perfect with it.”
“That sounds good. I should have thought to pick up some ice cream on my way home, but I hadn't actually decided which dessert to make yet.”
“I thought I heard a commotion,” Dennis said, stepping into the kitchen from the patio.
Laddie jumped up and down at the sight of Dennis because he knew Dennis would play fetch with him. Mr. Big loved to run along with Laddie while he retrieved the ball Dennis threw for him, although the little fluffy dog didn't have any retriever genes and wasn't interested in fetching anything.
“I'll grill the hamburgers as soon as I'm done supervising doggie playtime,” Dennis said, as the dogs raced outside, ahead of him.
“Were you able to find out anything?” Belle asked.
“Not much. According to Pamela, she and Ralph are the only painters who still live here. I did find out that Ulysses was a player back then, though. His wife caught him when he was on a date with Pamela, and she left him not long after.”
“Do you think that's the reason Jill left him?”
“It could be, although Ulysses later told Pamela that they'd been having problems for a while. I don't know if that's true or not. It's possible he said that to convince her to go out with him after Jill left, though. How did you fare at the library? Was there anything in the paper back then about Jill's disappearance?”
“A couple of articles. I made copies. Just a second. They're still in my bag.”
Belle retrieved the printed copies of the the articles and set them out on the kitchen table.
“The first one says that searchers are looking for a missing woman in the area around Miners' Lookout. That hit the front page with a couple of photos. Of course, that's all the reporter knew when the Chronicle went to press. By the time the newspaper was delivered the next morning, Ulysses knew his wife had left him. The second article was very short and ran on page six, just saying that the missing woman had been located. There were no other details.”
I stared at the grainy pictures that accompanied the first article. One was a photo of a very young-looking Jill.
“Do you suppose that's her college graduation picture?” I asked.
Belle took a closer look. “I don't know. She looks so young. I think it might be her high school graduation photo.”
I peered more carefully at the other picture that accompanied the story. It showed a small group of searchers at Miners' Lookout. It wasn't very clear, but one of the searchers looked vaguely familiar. I had to keep in mind that he would be nearly thirty years older now, but the more I stared at the picture, the more confident I became that I recognized him.
The man in the Chronicle's photo, one of a team of searchers, looked quite like the grumpy police detective who'd arrested my friend Susan for murder a few months earlier and implied that he suspected me, too. It was none other than my nemesis Lieutenant Belmont.
Chapter 18
Tempted as I was to learn more details about the search for Jill decades ago, Lieutenant Belmont was the last person I wanted to ask for information. Still, my curiosity was pushing me to talk to him, even though my better judgment told me not to do it.
It was easy to defer a decision, though, since I planned to spend the next day in my studio, and I'd resolved not to become sidetracked again. The two pet portraits and my latest landscape beckoned me to finish them, and I was further spurred on by the prospect of collecting the last half of the payments due me on completion of the pet portraits.
After an early morning walk in the park with Laddie and a light breakfast of tea and toast, I went to work in the studio. As always, Laddie followed me. There wasn't much for him to do while I painted, so he curled up on his doggy bed in the corner of the studio and snoozed.
I'd been painting for a couple hours, and I was very close to completing the final touches on my painting of the two Siamese cats when Laddie jumped up and ran to the kitchen door, his tail sweeping back and forth as he wagged it in eager anticipation. I set my brush down and followed him. Before I could reach the door, Belle knocked. I could always tell it was Belle when she knocked with her usual three sharp staccato raps.
“Come in,” I invited her, swinging the door open. She had her hands full, so I held Laddie back for a few seconds, long enough for Belle to set the cake she'd brought on the kitchen counter. As soon as she put it down, she called Laddie over and petted him.
“The last of the dates,” she said, waving her hand in the direction of the counter. “I had just enough to make us each a cake. It's a recipe handed down from my grandmother, and it's really yummy. I know you'll like it.”
“I'm sure I will. How about some coffee? We can sample the cake right now.”
“I wish I had time, but I'm off to a dental appointment. I won't be eating much of anything until later today.”
“I don't envy you,” I said, shuddering. Briefly, I wondered which I would most like to avoid—going to the dentist or talking to Lieutenant Belmont. I decided it would be pretty much a toss-up. “I hope it doesn't take long at the dentist. We can have a tasting whenever you feel up to it.”
I took time to drink another cup of tea before returning to the studio. Laddie trailed along and settled himself on his bed again. To my surprise, Mona Lisa made an appearance, too. She circled the studio, switched her tail at Laddie as she passed by him, and ignored me completely. Her exploration complete, she looked back at us with disdain and went back into the living room. No doubt she'd want to get chummy with me later. There was no accounting for my cat's strange mood swings.
Returning to my painting of the Siamese cat duo, I finished the final detail work and carefully added my artist's signature at the bottom right.
I set my brush down and stepped back from my painting. Pleased with the results, I picked up my digital camera to take a picture, which I'd send to the buyers with my final invoice. When I pressed the “on” button, nothing happened, and I knew I'd have to replace the batteries. It seemed like the camera ate them, I had to replace them so often. My camera took two double A batteries. I rummaged around in the top drawer, where I kept batteries, and came up wi
th only one. Since I didn't want to interrupt my work session to run to the store, I decided to press on with the other portrait and leave the shopping until later.
I was returning the lone battery to the drawer when Laddie jumped up again. His time, he stationed himself at the front door. His tail swept back and forth, but more slowly than it had when he was expecting Belle. Laddie loved company, and he was friendly to everybody, but I could always tell if he knew the person on the other side of the door by the velocity of his wagging tail.
I opened the door and was shocked to find Lieutentant Belmont standing on my doorstep. I was even more shocked when he greeted Laddie with “hey, there, fella,” and reached out a hand to scratch behind my affable retriever's ears. Of course, Laddie basked in the attention. Little did he know that, in all my previous encounters with Lieutenant Belmont, the man had been either accusatory or dismissive toward me.
“I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind.”
The lieutenant looked as rumpled as usual in an ill-fitting suit and wrinkled shirt. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead.
“All right.” I opened the door wider so that he could enter. Waving him toward the sofa, I took a seat in the armchair opposite him while Laddie sat in front of me with his ears perked up.
I couldn't help but notice that the lieutenant looked supremely uncomfortable as he removed a small notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. He looked around the room and muttered “nice house.”
“Thank you.”
I almost fell out of my chair. The lieutenant seemed to be making a concerted effort to be pleasant, something I'd never known him to do before, but I found it difficult to believe that he'd suddenly turned over a new leaf.
“Brooks told me he'd reported Olivia Durand's kidnapping to the police. Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”
“Uh, yes. Mr. Miller reported it to the chief.”
I was beginning to get the drift. From the way the lieutenant said Brooks's name, I could tell that he regarded him as some sort of authority. Brooks had gone directly to the chief, the lieutenant's boss, rather than through normal channels. Perhaps the chief had warned the lieutenant to treat the witnesses with kid gloves. I wouldn't put it past Brooks to use his considerable influence to make that happen. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
The lieutenant cleared his throat and asked me first whether I'd noticed Olivia leaving the paint-out and next about my delivery of the ransom.
I told him I hadn't really paid attention to much besides my painting during the plein air event, so I hadn't noticed Olivia's absence until Ulysses did. Then I related the story of my involvement and how I'd delivered the ransom, following exactly the instructions the kidnapper had given Ulysses. While I talked, the lieutenant jotted down a few notes, but he didn't interrupt me. I'd been leaning forward in my chair and petting Laddie while I told the lieutenant my story. When I was done, I sank back in the plush chair.
Sensing that he was losing my attention, Laddie went over to the lieutenant and stood in front of him, looking up hopefully. The lieutenant put his notebook and pen down on the side table next to him and obliged my furry pet by scratching behind his ears again.
“What's his name?”
“Laddie,” I answered. I didn't want to say too much. So far, so good. I found it hard to believe that he was a dog lover, but he certainly wouldn't be accommodating my pet if he weren't.
“Well, you're a good boy, Laddie.”
“Yes, he is,” I said. “He's a great dog.” I almost asked him if he had any more questions before realizing I'd never get a better opportunity to ask some questions of my own. “Would you like some coffee, lieutenant? I was just about to put some on before you came.” That was a fib, but it sounded reasonable. I wasn't a big coffee drinker, but I liked the specialty drinks at the Coffee Klatsch, and I occasionally drank regular coffee at home, too. The lieutenant couldn't possibly know that my go-to drink was tea, though, so he shouldn't find my claim unusual. Even so, I was a bit surprised when he took me up on my offer.
I walked the few feet to my tiny kitchen to put the pot on. When I saw the lieutenant eyeing the cake Belle had left on the counter, I immediately offered him a piece, and he didn't waste any time accepting.
“How do you take your coffee, lieutenant? Milk? Sugar?”
“Just black.”
I poured the steaming coffee into a mug, set a wool rug mug on the table beside him, and carefully put the coffee down. I returned to the kitchen and cut him a generous slice of cake. Putting a dessert fork, tines down, on the plate, so it would be less likely to tumble off, I grabbed a couple napkins and set one under the plate and the other beside it as I placed it next to the coffee mug I'd given him. Then, I grabbed myself half a cup of coffee and some cake.
I was about to join the lieutenant when Laddie came over to me and whimpered softly. I knew he was after a treat for himself, so I obliged him, putting a few baby carrots in his bowl. By the time I returned to the living room, the lieutenant's plate was empty.
“Would you like another slice of cake?” If I didn't stall, I was afraid he'd leave before I could ask him about Jill's long-ago disappearance. Then all my buttering-up efforts would go for naught.
Luckily, he accepted my offer. There didn't seem to be a good way to approach the subject, and I realized he probably wouldn't tell me anything, but I figured it was now or never.
“Olivia's kidnapping must remind you of Ulysses's first wife's disappearance.”
“How do you know about that?” he asked sharply. Laddie had been headed back toward him, but as soon as he heard the lieutenant's tone, he veered off course and came to me.
“He's very sensitive,” I told the lieutenant.
“I can see that.” He clucked softly and patted his leg.
“It's OK, Laddie,” I assured him, and with that, he trotted over to his new buddy.
“What is it you want to know, Mrs. Trent?”
Chapter 19
“It struck me as odd that Olivia was kidnapped from the same place and at a similar event where Ulysses's first wife disappeared, so I thought perhaps the kidnappers might have been at the first paint-out or known what happened there. Maybe they planned the kidnapping in the same place to goad Ulysses.”
“Seems a little far-fetched to me,” Lieutenant Belmont said. “I figure whoever did it heard a rich guy was in town and saw an opportunity to make some money by grabbing his wife.”
“But why there? Why at Miners' Lookout?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “Like I said, a crime of opportunity. The kidnappers could have been among the spectators.”
“I suppose, but it seems so coincidental. I can't help thinking the two incidents are connected somehow.” Then I had another, much darker thought. “Has anybody heard from Jill since she left Ulysses? What if she didn't really leave him? What if he's responsible for her disappearance?”
“One of your wild theories panned out once, so you think you're Miss Marple now, is that it?”
Same old lieutenant, I thought, but I could tell he knew something, and he seemed eager to show me the error of my ways.
“I hate to disillusion you, but you're wrong,” he continued. “Jill Durand really did leave her husband that day, although I'll admit it looked bad for Durand for a while.”
The lieutenant tugged at his collar. I noticed beads of perspiration had popped out on his face, which had turned pale all of a sudden, though I had my air conditioning turned on, and the house felt quite cool.
“I don't feel so good,” he moaned, clutching his chest.
He slumped over on the sofa, but he didn't try to swing his legs up. His breathing seemed labored, but, at least, he was breathing.
“Chest pain?”
Grimacing, he nodded.
I reached for my phone and punched in 9-1-1.
I was sure the lieutenant was having a heart attack, and he obviously knew it, too, because he didn't protest. Laddie stay
ed by his side as we awaited the arrival of an ambulance. I ran outside to flag the paramedics down as soon as I heard the siren. The two paramedics—a young woman and an older man—quickly assessed the situation as I held Laddie back so that they could check the lieutenant. As I'd expected, they rapidly made the decision to transport him to the hospital. He was able to move onto the gurney they'd brought in, which I thought might be a good sign.
“I'm sorry we're not permitted to let you ride along in the ambulance,” the young paramedic told me, “but you'll be able to see your husband in the emergency room at the hospital.”
“Oh, no, he's not my hus—” I began, but they were already out the door and beyond earshot.
When I sat down and gave Laddie a big hug, I realized I was shaking. It wasn't every day someone had a heart attack in my living room. After I recovered a bit, I realized I should notify the police department that Lieutenant Belmont had been taken to the hospital.
As luck would have it, Sergeant Martinez, whose wife Dawn was a member of the Roadrunner, was on duty. He knew why Lieutenant Belmont had come to my house, so there was no need for explanations.
“Thanks for letting us know, Amanda. I'll notify the chief and get the word out to the guys. He doesn't have any family, not around here, anyway, so I'll go check on him during my lunch break. I always said the guy was a heart attack waiting to happen. He never met a steak or a hamburger he didn't like, and he never got a lick of exercise. Too bad, though. I wouldn't wish a heart attack on my worst enemy.”
Feeling guilty for tempting Lieutenant Belmont with cake, I worried that eating the sweet snack might have triggered his heart attack, but from what Sergeant Martinez had told me, it sounded as though Lieutenant Belmont had been building up to it for years.
I felt a bit unnerved, too. Whenever I became distracted, I couldn't concentrate on my painting. I realized that sometimes I'd rationalize not working, because I had a bad habit of procrastinating, but today wasn't one of those times. I truly needed to take a break and calm myself down after witnessing a guest's unexpected heart attack in my home.
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