Ethan had been chosen out of all the detectives in the large private investigation firm because he was a Vermont native, and in the state of Vermont, that mattered. His first stop at the home of Vaughn Makella's aunt, however, had netted him no results at first. Lauretta Hurnel was not in residence at the moment, her elderly neighbor had informed him. She had left a week ago to visit some friends down in Florida. Ethan had whipped his hat off, called her ma'am about every other word, and admired the flowers in her garden. She'd invited him over for a closer look, and in the ensuing conversation, discovered that they had several mutual acquaintances in his home town of Burlington. After that, finessing an invitation to tea had been easy.
She'd feigned reluctance to talk about her dear friend Lauretta's nephew at first, but soon her desire to gossip won out against any scruples she might have had. Yes, she was acquainted with Vaughn. She'd known him all her life...
“He was such a dear little boy, the apple of his mother's eye. Briden, her older boy, wasn't at all affectionate, but Vaughn – what a sweetheart! He was always ready with a hug and a kiss, and so sensitive! So artistic! So imaginative! Elena, his mother, was overjoyed that Vaughn shared some of her own interests, like art and literature and poetry. She loved her husband and her older boy, but they were more into football and baseball and outdoor stuff like hunting and camping. In fact, if you can believe it, her husband tried to stop Elena from developing Vaughn's artistic gifts and talents. Said she was making a sissy out of the boy – can you imagine that?”
Actually, Ethan could imagine it very easily, but he said nothing; instead, he just raised his eyebrows in silent encouragement for Ada to continue.
Ada reached for one of the shortbread cookies that she had set out on the table and bit into it appreciatively. After she had consumed the cookie, she continued, “Vaughn was inconsolable when his mother died. I never saw a boy grieve so. Of course, Lauretta tried to step in and give him some of the mothering that he needed. But Justin, - his father” -she rolled her eyes-“was hell-bent on what he called 'weaning Vaughn away from too much feminine influence' and 'making a man of him'. Vaughn was only ten when his mother passed away, you know. Instead of giving him time to grieve, though, what do you suppose his father did? He forced that little boy to go on a camping trip with him and Briden only a week after the funeral! He knew that Vaughn hated camping, but he didn't care one bit about what Vaughn wanted. He said that camping with him and Briden would help Vaughn, keep him occupied, help him work through his grief.”
Ada shook her head sadly and picked up the teapot. “Would you care for another cup, Ethan?”
He hated the stuff, but he was willing to drink a gallon of it in order to prolong the tea party and keep her talking, so he put an enthusiastic smile upon his face and said, “Yes, please, Mrs. Mainyre. If it's not too much trouble?”
“Trouble? Not at all. I can't remember the last time I had a young man over for tea. It makes me feel young again. Now, where was I?”
“You were talking about a camping trip they went on after Vaughn's mother died.”
“Oh, yes. Do you know, Vaughn nearly died on that trip? His father and brother were so wrapped up with their precious hunting that they lost track of Vaughn. He got separated from them and was lost, all alone, for almost forty-eight hours! They had search parties out looking for him, but somehow he managed to find his way back all by himself. He just wandered into the camp again two days later. And do you know what his father did? He blamed Vaughn for the whole thing! Said that Vaughn should have been more careful. A ten-year-old being blamed by the negligent father who didn't take proper care of him! Lauretta heard the whole story when she went over to stay at the house to help nurse Vaughn after he contracted bronchitis shortly after they got home. Well, it was no surprise that he got sick. It was a lucky thing that he didn't die of exposure, because it was really cold, the whole time that Vaughn was lost.”
“Must have been hard on his aunt,” Ethan commented.
“Oh dear, yes,” Ada agreed. “Lauretta always said that Vaughn was never the same after that. So when he had that trouble – well, she was kind of expecting something like that to happen. But I'm not supposed to talk about that.”
Instead of pushing too hard and trying to pry the information about Vaughn Makella's “trouble” out of her, Ethan reached for another cookie. “These are wonderful, Mrs. Mainyre. Did you make them yourself?”
“I'm afraid not. I used to cook and bake quite a lot, but as I've gotten older, I've had to rely more and more on store-bought things. I got those from Rorhich's, the local bakery. Selma Rorhich may be the biggest gossip in town, but her shortbread cookies are almost as good as my own. Selma kept trying to pry the story about Vaughn's troubles out of me, but I didn't say a word to her. If I had, it would have been all over town!”
“I can see that you're one who can be trusted to keep a confidence, Mrs. Mainyre,” Ethan said mendaciously. “No wonder Mrs. Hurnel confides in you.”
Beaming at him, Ada poured out another cup of tea. “Well, it wasn't easy to keep what she told me confidential,” she said. “Especially after Maudie Burtenn blabbed about the fact that Justin Makella had had Vaughn institutionalized...”
Keeping any trace of curiosity out of his voice, Ethan said, “Well, Maudie Burtenn never was able to keep a secret.”
Ada latched onto that comment like a sucker fish. “Oh, are you acquainted with Maudie, then?”
Mentally crossing his fingers behind his back, Ethan nodded casually and took another sip of tea.
“Well, if you already heard about it from Maudie, I suppose it can't hurt to explain to you about how it all happened." Fingering the beads she wore around her neck, Ada resumed her story. “Like I said, Vaughn was always imaginative. He was always pretending he was somebody else. Most children do, you know. They pretend that they're Batman or Superman or some other hero. So when Vaughn started telling everyone that he was Michelangelo, nobody thought twice about it – they thought he was just pretending. His mother was Italian, after all, and she had instilled in him a great regard for the artists of the Italian Renaissance. But then he started insisting that his family call him by that name and refused to answer to anything else. That's when they began to realize that he wasn't just imagining things; he actually thought that he was the reincarnation of Michelangelo! And that wasn't all,” she paused to insert another shortbread cookie into her mouth, “he also went about telling people that on his father's side, he was descended from ancient Viking priests, and that he had visions of some Viking goddess whom he called Vanadis. At that point, his father decided that enough was enough. He took Vaughn to a psychiatrist. When Vaughn refused to cooperate, his father had the boy committed to a mental institution.”
“How old was he then?”
“Oh dear, let me think. I guess he would have been about sixteen by then. At first he wasn't allowed to have any visitors, but that changed after about six months or so. Once he was allowed visitors, Lauretta used to drive up there and spend time with him every chance she got. Good thing too. Neither his father nor his brother ever went to visit him in all the time he was there – not once!”
“And it wasn’t that far away, was it?”
“No, no – it only takes about an hour to get to The Brieuc Center.”
“And he was better when he came back home, wasn't he? That's what I understood.”
Ada nodded her head vigorously. “According to Lauretta, the doctors figured out what was wrong with Vaughn and used a combination of medication and therapy to treat the problem. When he came home about a year later, he was his old self again. Perfectly normal. He finished high school and enrolled in college. Of course, his father wouldn't let him study art, which is what Vaughn wanted to do, so he enrolled in a business program instead. It bored him out of his skull, but he was desperate to please his father, so he stuck it out. He still kept up with his art, though - but just as a hobby. At least until the accident happened...”
>
“How old was Vaughn when he lost his father and his brother?”
“It was during his first semester of his sophomore year. They went on a camping trip and never came back. Poor Vaughn. He just couldn't accept the fact that they were gone. Even after they found the bodies the next summer, he still wouldn't believe it. Lauretta had to arrange for the funeral and internment, because Vaughn was still in denial. He refused to attend either service, which sure shocked some of the busybodies around here. And even after his father's executor had done all the necessary paperwork to have the will probated and the estate settled, Vaughn wouldn't touch his inheritance. He didn't spend a penny of it – not for years. His father had set up a trust fund for his college education, so he used that to finish college – but he switched his major to art, which was what he had wanted to study in the first place. But the rest of the money? He wanted no part of it.
“That went on for a couple of years, until finally Lauretta insisted that he get some grief counseling. It must have done him a world of good, because he finally started listening to Lauretta when she told him that his father would have wanted him to use the money to enjoy life. He went on a tour of Europe, visited all of the great museums, studied all of the Old Masters. Lauretta was a little concerned when he went to Italy, kind of afraid that some of that “Michelangelo” nonsense would start up again, but when he came home she realized that she had been worried about nothing. Vaughn was fine, and he's been fine ever since.”
“Has he been around here recently?”
“Not since the summer. We'd had a terrible storm that knocked out the power for several days. Vaughn came as soon as Lauretta called him and told him about the power outage. He was terribly concerned, and he was very angry at Holden Owenroe as well.”
“Oh? Why was that?”
“Well, Holden is his next-door neighbor, and Vaughn pays him to look after his house when he's out of town. Vaughn has one of those gas-powered emergency generators over at his house, and he made it clear to Holden that he was to start it up immediately any time Vaughn was out of town and the power went off. But when he came home that time, he blew up when he discovered that the power had been off at his house for almost twelve hours before Holden came over and turned on the emergency generator.”
“Why did Holden wait so long?”
“Oh, it wasn't Holden's fault! Just before the power went off, Holden's wife fell and broke her ankle. Holden had to rush her to the emergency room, and then he had to wait with her for hours before anyone treated her. And Vaughn didn't need to be so harsh with him, regardless. I mean, what's the big deal? The house was unoccupied at the time. I don't understand why Vaughn got so upset just because the power went off for a few hours.”
“Maybe he has a refrigerated wine cellar or something.”
“Maybe you're right,” Ada said doubtfully. Then she looked at the clock, and when she noticed the time, she put her teacup down sharply. “Oh, dear me! I'd lost track of the time. I'm sorry, Ethan. I have to get ready and leave for choir practice at the church in a few minutes.”
Ethan put his own teacup down and rose smoothly. “Thank you for inviting me to tea, Mrs. Mainyre.” With a splendid disregard for the truth, he added, “I can't remember when I've had such a good time.”
As he bid her goodbye at the front door and walked across the street to his car, he was mentally rubbing his hands in anticipation. That fat bonus for speedy results was practically in his pocket already.
*****
They had cut him out of the loop. That's all Wes Collander could think about as he paced across his brand new office. The promotion from Lieutenant to Captain and the raise that had gone along with it were meaningless to him, as long as his new position left him out in the cold. The chain of command now bypassed him, and he wasn't used to that. And after years of being the Chief's powerful right hand, it wasn't sitting well with him. The fact that Moe Westbrooke, whom he'd known since she was a green, wet-behind-the-ears rookie, could dismiss him with impunity galled him. But he knew a way to fix her wagon, and Rafe Melbourne's too. Punching a number into his cell phone, he said to the person who picked up on the other end, “Meet me at the usual place. Ten minutes.”
*****
Maeve insisted that Dawn eat something when she and Ty returned to the private dining room at Fredo's, so she forced some soup and a sandwich down. After she finished, however, she pushed back from the table abruptly.
“I can't stand sitting still and doing nothing. I need to find a work space somewhere close so that I can continue working on the rental property angle. Even if I'm duplicating some of what Rafe and his team are doing, at least I'd feel like I was accomplishing something.”
“There's an office you can use upstairs,” Sloan said cautiously.
“Yeah, I figured you had a space up there where your minions can hang out and twiddle their thumbs while I'm hard at work across the street.”
Sloan shrugged and waved a hand toward the door. “Come on. I'll take you up.” He led the way out the door and up the stairs. At the top, he paused for a moment before a door that had a nameplate on it reading Aemilian Consulting.
When she noticed the name plate, Dawn said, “I can't believe that you actually put a fake nameplate on the door to hide the fact that this is really a hang-out for a couple of clowns from Lewellen Security. Don't you think that that's taking it a little too far?”
“It's not a fake,” Sloan replied absently. “If you look it up, you'll see that Aemilian Consulting is a branch of Vetranio Enterprises, which is a division of the Erkina Corporation, which is a subsidiary of The Lewellen Group. See? Everything aboveboard and legal.”
Dawn stood stock-still for a moment. “I hadn't thought about that.”
“Thought about what?”
“That you can set up a company that's four or five steps removed from its parent organization so that unless you dig deep down, you could miss the connection between them.” Dawn took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “We've been looking for single men matching our perp's general description who have rented a house in this area over the past month. But what if he's not actually doing the renting? What if he just scoped out the properties and then rented the one he wanted under a corporate name instead?”
Sloan produced a key card and opened the door to the office. Hal and Morgan sprang up immediately as he entered. After telling them to go downstairs for a while, he picked up the conversation where Dawn had left off. “He might not even be renting, Dawn. The real estate market in certain areas around Mountpelier is really hot right now. You can buy a piece of property and then turn it around and sell it at a profit in a relatively short period of time.” As a speculative expression crossed Dawn's face, he added, “If you want to look for corporate properties that have been acquired recently, I could probably help you with it.”
Dawn considered, then nodded. “Okay. I'll concentrate on rentals. If you could handle the corporate ownership side, it'd be a big help.”
“I can give a hand as well,” Ty said. As Dawn and his father turned to stare at him simultaneously, he added defensively, “Hey, I might not like doing it, but I know my way around a computer, and I've done my share of research. Had to, before an op., when I was in the Air Force.”
“The more people we have working on this, the better,” Sloan said. He pondered for a minute, then added, “You know, Lotti's helped me on more than one occasion when I've been working from home. If she were here to assist, I could work twice as fast.”
Dawn thought it over. “What about the baby?”
“I could watch her.”
All three of them turned toward her in astonishment at Maeve's suggestion.
A little amused at the joint reaction, Maeve said, “What's the matter? Do you all think I can't handle taking care of a baby?”
Sloan swallowed hard before answering. “Uh... Are you sure you don't mind, Maeve? You don't have to. Fredo's wife, Rosa, has a sister who is generally availab
le to come over and help out any time Lotti needs some time off.”
Maeve shrugged. “In case you've forgotten, I like babies. Besides, since I'm not very good at doing research on a computer, and Lotti is, if I watch the baby while she helps out, it'll make me feel like I'm contributing something to this operation.”
“Uh... okay, if you're sure about this.”
Maeve shrugged her shoulders. “No problem.”
There was a slight pause, and then Dawn filled it by saying, “Okay. Fill Lotti in and ask her if she's willing to help. As long as...” Dawn hesitated for a moment, not sure how to proceed.
Sloan understood immediately. “Don't worry. Lotti can be trusted to keep everything in confidence. She's very discreet. In fact,” he added with an attempt at humor, “clams could take lessons from her when it comes to keeping one's mouth shut.”
“All right. Give Lotti a call, and let's get started.”
“I need to go downstairs for a minute or two and update Brody, let him know what's going on,” Ty interjected.
“Brody's here?”
“Yeah, he was with me at Nyetimber when I got the lieutenant's call, and he insisted on coming along. Didn't want to intrude, though, so he's hanging out down in the bar.”
He was taking them all to the cleaners. Hopping around on his one good leg, Brody was still beating the pants off all of his opponents at the pool table. A pile of money lay on one corner of the table, but when Ty signaled him from the doorway, Brody grinned and pocketed it before putting his cue away, grabbing his crutches, and making his way across the bar to the door. Ty led the way back to the private dining room, where he let Brody in on what was going on with Dawn.
When the Tiger Kills: A Cimarron/Melbourne Thriller: Book One Page 21