by Leslie Meier
Just enjoy. Would you prefer ze Bud or ze Rolling Rock for ze cocktail?”
“Don’t care.”
He watched, grinning, as she popped the tab with a flourish and poured the beer into a pub mug for him.
Dinner didn’t take long to eat, even allowing for the fact they were sitting in the dining room instead of the kitchen and using forks instead of fingers. Lucy assigned Toby to do the dishes and, conscious that his stock was not very high with his mother, he mounted only a weak protest before heading into the kitchen.
Lucy and Bill and the girls went into the family room to watch the news.
“We saw that lady,” exclaimed Sara when the newscaster appeared seated alongside a male colleague.
“Turning to you, Janet,” he said, “I understand you have a special plea from a local teacher.”
“That’s right, Jack.” The camera closed in on Janet. “Tinker’s Cove dance teacher Tatiana O’Brien appealed today for help in finding her missing friend and mentor, retired dance professor Caroline Hutton. I spoke with Tatiana today in the auditorium of the Cove Regional High School, where she was conducting a rehearsal for an upcoming performance.”
“That’s Tatiana! There she is,” squealed Sara, her voice shrill with excitement.
They all watched intently as Tatiana held up a framed photograph of Caro.
“I’m asking anyone who may have seen this woman to contact the police immediately.”
“How long has she been missing?” asked Janet, waving a microphone in front of Tatiana.
“There’s been no sign of her for almost three weeks. I’m very concerned.”
“Why exactly are you so concerned?” Janet adopted a serious expression; she was determined to show she could conduct an in-depth interview. WPZ was fine for now, but she had big plans for the future.
“Because this is so out of character. Caroline Hutton is a responsible, caring person. If she was planning a trip, she would have told her friends and neighbors. She lived alone, she has no family, so it’s up to us to find her and bring her home safely.”
Tatiana’s face faded from the screen, replaced by Jack and Janet at the news desk.
“Janet, what do the police say?”
“Well, Jack, local police conducted an extensive search but found no trace of the vanished woman. I spoke today with Tinker’s Cove Police Chief Oswald Crowley.”
“He doesn’t look very happy to be on TV,” observed Lucy when the chief’s scowling face appeared.
“Chief Crowley, have there been any new developments in the Caroline Hutton case?”
“No.” Crowley was a man of few words. There were beads of sweat on his forehead; he was obviously uncomfortable about being on TV.
“Are you following any new leads?”
“One or two,” said Crowley, “but it’s too soon to comment.”
“If one of our viewers recognizes Caroline Hutton, what should they do?”
“They should call the department, on our nonemergency business line. That number is 861-1234.”
The number appeared on the screen in white letters, which remained after Crowley’s image disappeared, replaced by the photograph of Caro.
“Once again,” came Janet’s voice-over. “If you have seen this woman, please call 861-1234.”
“Thanks for that report, Janet,” said Jack. “It’s quite a mystery, isn’t it?”
“It sure is, Jack. And after these words from our sponsors, our Channel Five weatherman, Ed Santini, will explain another mystery, tomorrow’s weather.”
After the newscast, Lucy helped Toby look for the missing book and found it under his bed. She supervised baths for the girls, read them their favorite Angelina book, and tucked them in bed. Toby was allowed to stay up an hour later, and when Lucy peeked in on him he was sorting through his baseball cards.
The house seemed unusually quiet to Lucy, and she could hear the rain drumming on the roof when she returned to the family room. It had originally been a sun porch, but Bill had made it into a year-round room by installing insulation and thermal glass windows. Instead of turning on the TV, she pulled out the old basket in which she kept family photographs. She always meant to put the best ones in an album but somehow never got around to it. She was looking for a particular envelope of photos, and it wasn’t long before she found it.
She had snapped an entire roll of film one day last summer when she and Bill took the kids on a picnic. One of Bill’s customers had told him about a beautiful waterfall hidden deep in the woods.
As she flipped through the photos, Lucy remembered how Bill had taken a day off between jobs, and she had packed a lunch of fried chicken, tomato sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, lemonade, and brownies. It had been a real adventure as they followed the unfamiliar directions Bill had scribbled down on an envelope. They were explorers in a fragile craft seeking the eighth wonder of the world. At least, that’s what she had told the kids as they pressed on, leaves and branches brushing against the Subaru.
They heard the falls before they saw them, a torrent of ice- cold water rushing along a downhill streambed littered with slippery black boulders. It was not one single waterfall but many, and the rushing water had carved out pools deep enough to swim in. One pool glowed a beautiful luminous green, catching and concentrating the sunshine in its depths. They had never seen anything like it.
It had been a special day for the whole family. Bill and the kids swam, Lucy dangled her feet in the frigid water, and they made short work of the huge picnic. It was quite late in the afternoon before they packed up their things; they all hated to leave the magical place.
“What are you doing?” asked Bill when he found her on the couch. He’d finished an estimate for a possible job and was looking for company.
“Taking a trip down memory lane,” said Lucy. “Remember the day we went to the waterfall? What was it called?”
Bill settled beside her, draping an arm around her shoulders, and took the photo.
“Crystal Falls.”
“Near Bridgton, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a good drive from here.” Bill took the pictures from her and looked through them. “The kids have grown a lot, haven’t they?”
“Especially Toby.”
Bill got up and switched on the TV. “The Sox are supposed to play tonight.”
“They probably got rained out.”
“The game’s in New York. They’ll be back in Boston tomorrow, and Fred Slack said he’d give me his tickets. I’d love to take Toby. He’s never been to Fenway Park.”
“Tomorrow? It’s sort of short notice.”
“He has season tickets and he can’t go. They’re box seats, right behind first base. We could leave in the afternoon, catch the game, and sleep over at my sister’s house. If we got an early start in the morning we could even be back before school starts. What do you think?”
“It’s fine with me. I didn’t know you were such good friends with Fred.” “I didn’t either. I stopped by his office to ask about the camera.”
“I checked prices. They’re still about a thousand dollars. We can’t afford one now.”
“Fred says there’s no problem. He said to go ahead and get one and he’ll push the claim right through.”
“What about the deductible?”
“Unh?”
“We have a five-hundred-dollar deductible on our policy. It doesn’t pay until we pay the first five hundred.”
“No problem. He said the deductible is waived. Special circumstances.”
“No way. I never heard of an insurance company paying a claim without asking a lot of questions.”
“I’m gonna get the camera tomorrow morning, okay? That way I can tape the game and the rehearsal, too. I’ll use plastic but Fred said I should have the money real quick.”
“It’s okay with me, but I bet we’ll get stuck with the bill,” predicted Lucy gloomily.
“Damn.” Bill reached for the remote and started switching through the ch
annels. “It’s raining in New York. Game’s over.” “That’s too bad,” said Lucy, laying her head on his shoulder. “What could you do instead?” She reached up and stroked his beard, gently pulling his face toward hers. She kissed him lightly on the lips, and was gratified when he responded with a long, lingering kiss.
“I have a few ideas,” he said, and flicked off the TV.
23
Pale pink tights (no shiny tights).
The thunderstorm had cleared the air, and Wednesday dawned clear and bright but chilly. Lucy made Toby and Elizabeth wear their jackets to school, but saw they made a point of taking them off as soon as they got out of the house. She had better luck with Sara, who was little enough to enjoy being fussed over as Lucy zipped up her pink windbreaker. Lucy dropped her off at Kiddie Kollege, and then went straight to the post office. She wanted to mail a “thinking of you” card to Franny before she went to her appointment with Doc Ryder.
Even Franny’s grim situation couldn’t dampen her spirits this morning. Last night she’d been reassured that Bill still desired her, even after twelve years of marriage and three children, and in the middle of her current pregnancy. She felt remarkably light on her feet as she skipped up the post office steps.
“You look mighty cheerful this morning,” said Barney, greeting her with a big smile.
“I am and I have to admit I feel a little guilty about it, what with Franny locked up in that awful place. I wish I could do more than send her a card.”
“I think that’s prob’ly all you can do, Lucy. Visitors are pretty much limited to relatives and attorneys, and they’re strictly regulated. I’m sure she appreciates knowing folks are thinking about her.”
“We can do more than that, Barney. How come there wasn’t more of an investigation? Why is Horowitz so eager to pin this on Franny?”
“Lucy, I’ve been through that file myself about a hundred times. Do you think I want to see her spend the rest of her life in jail?” Barney took off his police cap, ran his hands through his salt-and-pepper butch-cut hair, and replaced it. “Trouble is, sometimes cops are more interested in making the conviction than finding out the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Horowitz has got one hell of a case against Franny. It’s straight out of a criminal-science textbook, complete with means, motive, and opportunity.” Barney ticked them off. “Means—the video camera was in her possession and it’s covered with her fingerprints. Motive—Slack fired her and she wanted to get back at him. A classic case of revenge. Opportunity—who knew the old guy’s routine better than Franny?”
“What about his wife? Maybe she was sick and tired of him after fifty years.”
“She was having lunch with Miss Tilley.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Miss Tilley to stretch the truth for a friend. She had her differences with Slack.”
“Lucy, we’re talking about two elderly ladies who happen to be very civic-minded,” protested Barney.
“What about Ben? I just have this gut feeling that he did it. Even good boys can get in trouble,” she said, wishing too late that she could swallow her words. Barney must be sensitive about Eddie’s brush with the law.
“Don’t I know it,” agreed Barney ruefully. “I’ve gone over it and over it. Unless the Gilead police can’t tell time, he was in their custody from ten o’clock on.”
“Time of death?”
“Between twelve-thirty and two P.M.”
“Okay, what about Fred? It’s no secret he didn’t get along with his father.”
“Fred was showing houses to some clients, and Annemarie had an appointment with her therapist from twelve-thirty to one-thirty and went straight to a one-thirty meeting of the Junior Women’s Club. The other members say she arrived a few minutes late.”
“Oh,” said Lucy, momentarily distracted by the news that Annemarie was in therapy. “What about fingerprints? Did you check the camera for fingerprints?”
“We did,” said Barney. “And you know what? Practically everybody in this town left their prints on it at one time or another. What do you do? Lend it out to anybody who asks?” “Pretty much,” admitted Lucy.
“Well, like I said, the thing was covered with prints. But one person’s prints definitely weren’t on it. You know whose?” “Ben’s.”
“Right.”
“I’m still not convinced.” Lucy had a sudden inspiration. “What about the tape? The one that was in the camera?” “Gone.”
“Then if you find the tape, you’ll find the killer. Did Franny have the tape?”
“They didn’t find it when they searched her house, but she coulda got rid of it.”
“Dam. There must be some way we can prove Franny’s innocent.”
“I sure as hell don’t know how,” said Barney, looking extremely glum.
“We’ll think of something,” she said, hoping she sounded more optimistic than she felt. “Hey, what’s this I hear about Caro turning up in Graceland?”
“We’ve been getting reports from all over. You wouldn’t believe the crazies that call when a story makes the TV news. And you know what? I think she really was spotted in North Conway.”
“North Conway?”
“Yeah. A New Hampshire state trooper says he’s pretty sure he talked to her at an ice cream stand. Passed the time of day with this nice old woman and didn’t think anything of it till he got back to the barracks and saw her photo on a bulletin board. Doesn’t even remember what kind of car she was driving. He did say she had a little girl with her. She claimed it was her grandchild.”
“Caro isn’t a grandmother,” said Lucy.
“Not that we know of. Well, I better get back to work before the chief misses me.”
Lucy got in line at the stamp window. There were several people ahead of her, but she didn’t mind. There was no sense in hurrying to her appointment just to sit in the doctor’s waiting room. Besides, she couldn’t help overhearing the conversation selectman Hancock Smith was having with Winchester College president Gerald Asquith. The two men had met in front of the numbered boxes.
“Can hardly believe it myself,” she heard Smith proclaim. “He left his entire fortune to the historical society, house included. All told, it could come to nearly a million dollars,” he told Asquith, who looked slightly sick at the thought. It was no secret that the college had been flirting with financial disaster for some time.
“The house is a gem,” continued Smith. “Virtually untouched. A fine example of Victorian architecture, with the original furniture. What a treasure!
“Of course,” he said, thoughtfully scratching his chin, “Mrs. Slack has a life tenancy, but she’s pretty old. I don’t imagine it will be too long before the society takes possession.” Smith paused; a rather unpleasant thought had obviously occurred to him. He lowered his voice. “I just hope she doesn’t take it into her head to modernize the place or something. You can never tell with these old ladies.”
“That’s for sure,” agreed Asquith, visibly brightening. “Take my aunt, for instance. Her husband died confident that he’d left his considerable fortune to the National Rifle Association. Somehow she undid the will and the money went to the Ethical Culture Society instead.”
“Really?” Smith was clearly unsettled. “How could that be legal?”
“I don’t know.” Asquith shrugged, but something in his tone told Lucy that he was planning on finding out.
“Next,” said the postal clerk. Lucy was embarrassed to realize she was holding up the line and quickly stepped up to the window.
“Lucy, this will never do.” Lucy was standing on the scale in Doc Ryder’s examining room, and the doctor was sliding the weights across the bar. “You’ve gained nine pounds in four weeks. That’s more than two pounds a week. That’s double what you should gain,” he scolded, beginning his usual harangue.
Lucy, however, didn’t hear him. Her thoughts were miles away as she climbed onto the examining table.
North C
onway, she thought to herself as the doctor lifted her shirt and palpated her abdomen. There was a dance outlet in North Conway; Karen had mentioned it. Maybe Caro was stocking up on leotards and tights. It was a link of sorts, anyway.
Lucy hardly noticed when the doctor applied the cold stethoscope to her tummy. Barney had said Caro was with a child, a little girl. A student? A child of a student? That was more likely, thought Lucy. But why?
Mechanically placing her feet in the stirrups, she remembered the photographs of laughing children in Caro’s album, and the childish map. Snake’s House. Crystal Falls. Of course, she realized, sitting bolt upright.
“Whoa!” exclaimed a surprised Doc Ryder. “If you wouldn’t mind lying down, I’ll be finished in a minute.”
“Sorry,” said Lucy, reclining on the table. Crystal Falls. No wonder the photographs seemed so familiar. Wasn’t Crystal Falls the place where they’d had the picnic last summer?
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” demanded the doctor, offering his hand so she could hop off the table. “What?” asked Lucy.
“Everything’s fine. See you in four weeks.”
“Okay.” Lucy nodded.
“Four weeks, four pounds. Got that?”
“Right. Four weeks, four pounds. See ya.”
Hurrying out of his office, Lucy glanced at her watch. It was only ten-thirty; Sara would be at Kiddie Kollege until noon. She had plenty of time; she’d just stop by at Sue’s house. There was something she wanted to ask her.
24
Male relatives are NOT allowed in the dressing room.
“Lucy, what’s the matter?” exclaimed Sue, opening the door for her. “You look upset.”
“I’m fine,” said Lucy. Passing the hall mirror, she noticed her hair was sticking out wildly all over her head. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, rummaging in her bag for a comb and smoothing it back in place. “I think I know where Caro is.” “Really?” Sue’s face lit up in excitement. “Where?”
“It’s really just a hunch.”
“Tell me all about it. I just made a lemon pound cake. Want some?”