Candace McCauley, P.I Mysteries (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection)

by Kira Reese

  Chapter 2

  Remote Mansion

  The day ended and I looked forward to talking things over with Nick. Nick Adams and I lived in a lower middle-class tree-lined neighborhood. For me, it was an oasis after a day of working on cases. For Nick, it was the same. He was into real estate and he dealt with as many varied personalities as I did. He released his frustrations by barbequing just about every meal that could be seared outside. I found my way to the back patio sniffing the aroma of something on the grill. The one thing that always warmed me was that no matter what Nick was doing, he could focus on me as soon as he saw me walk through the door. His warm embrace and soft kiss on my lips took all concerns of the day away. I went back inside and poured two glasses of wine. We sat at the bistro table outside and watched the sun sink in the western sky. The hues filtered through the branches of several large maples and oaks at the end of our yard. The evening was perfect.

  “Do you know who Thornton Grey is?” I asked Nick. The realtor was adept at grounding me when my mind swirled with possibilities of a case. “His daughter came into my office the other day and wanted me to find her missing father.”

  “Thornton Grey is a missing man?” asked Nick. His reddish-blond hair glistened from one last ray of the dipping sun. “Are you sure he is missing?”

  “According to Angelina Grey Thomason, he is missing. She is adamant about it. I went to the slip where he keeps his yacht and it is there. She has not been able to get a response from her calls and texts to him. Again, per Angelina, he keeps in close contact with her.”

  “With his money he could be on some faraway island of his own. I suppose he could be missing due to some kind of foul play, but people like him rarely stick at home or in an office day in and day out.” Deep blue eyes penetrated mine. “He probably has more than one yacht, anyway.”

  I had not thought of that possibility. A man who spent a lifetime building boats and made the money Thornton Grey did would have more than one cruiser. His yacht looked more like a ship than a getaway boat. I described the Temptress to Nick.

  “I would do anything to see the inside of a boat like that one,” I said. “It was like a house on water. It probably has every possible comfort a person could ask for in sheer luxury.”

  “You are drooling,” said Nick. He laughed at his own comment. “I can’t say that I blame you. Now that you are working in high circles to solve crimes, and I’ll be selling million-dollar-plus homes exclusively, we will have a yacht like that. We’ll find a remote spot on the beaches of St. Thomas and retire there.”

  “That sounds promising, but what would we do in retirement? I think the sand would get old.”

  “We probably would sell beach houses and solve crimes on St. Thomas.”

  “That is known as addiction,” I said.

  ***

  Natalie was opening the back door of my office building when I arrived the next morning. We greeted one another, and she followed me inside. We had a few minutes before time to unlock the front door.

  “I plan to go to Long Island Sound today and observe Thornton Grey’s home,” I told her. “We have a new case, and I would like for you to start on that one. It concerns harassment of a shop owner who fears for his life.”

  Her eyes perked up. She knew the routine when starting a new case, and she was ready to delve right in.

  Two hours passed and I set aside the folders on my desk containing information gathered so far in the Grey case. Using folders was my backup to information put in the computer.

  I told Natalie to feel free to take a longer lunch for her noonday break. She told me about a new coffee house that served full lunches in our neighborhood. She and a friend wanted to try it out.

  “You should see the eclectic artwork on the walls down there, Candy.”

  I promised I would do that soon. One thing about Natalie Carpenter: she knew good art when she saw it.

  When I stepped outside I shrugged my lightweight sweater off. The earlier cool air had morphed into warm and humid. Summer approached, though the season was not supposed to arrive for another three weeks. Most of my day today meant the drive from the city to Long Island Sound. Setting my GPS, I started for the home of Thornton Grey. If it was anything like his expensive yacht, I knew I could expect a lot.

  Everything I knew about the shipping magnate flowed through my brain. Once I saw where he lived, my next step would be to find out how many yachts he actually owned. It may be a whole fleet, I thought. My GPS directed me across the East River. I navigated to Westchester. After what seemed like an endless amount of time, I looked for the home of Thornton Grey. It was not easy to find even with my handy device.

  The long road that led to the massive structure rewarded me with a view that went well beyond my expectations. This was truly a getaway in itself, and I wondered why anyone ever left it. I stopped at the edge of lush green, a hue that resulted in constant grooming. The landscape appeared as a scene out of a high-end gardening magazine. A man in yard-work attire stepped from behind a row of azaleas. He held long clipping shears and watched as I got out of my car.

  “Hello,” I called to him. “I am looking for Mr. Thornton Grey. Is he home today?”

  At first, there was no response. His look said he missed little when it came to unexpected visitors. He shifted to a firm stance.

  “Mr. Grey is not at home. Was he expecting you?”

  From his facial expression, I knew he knew I was not expected.

  “No, he is not expecting me. I was in the area and wish to speak with him.”

  The gardener transferred his assessment of me to my car. In my own neighborhood, I was proud to drive my two-year-old grayish blue Fusion. On Long Island Sound it definitely did not fit in.

  “He is not here at the moment. I must ask you to leave the premises.”

  It wasn’t as if I expected him to invite me inside and give me a tour. Still, I was disappointed the groundskeeper was not friendly toward me. I thanked him and got back in my car. I drove back to the main road and parked in front of an upscale café. It superseded any ordinary diner as did the clientele. I needed time to think things out. I had no intentions of driving all this way to find I was not welcomed by a gardener. After a few minutes passed, I put the gear into drive and headed back up the long road. There was no sign of the man, though I felt sure he wasn’t far away. Somehow I had to use a different approach.

  Once again I parked, and out of nowhere my nemesis appeared. His bushy eyebrows knitted into a furrow. Sunburned cheeks flamed slightly redder than before. He stood and waited while I got out again. My insides started to mix up and I took two deep breaths as I approached him.

  “I want to see Mr. Grey for personal reasons. Is there a way I can leave him a written message?”

  The man’s glance at me said everything. I did not fit the image of the usual female visitors who had personal reasons for being on Thornton Grey’s property.

  “It is about his daughter, Angelina Thomason,” I said.

  His head jolted to attention and he focused on my words.

  “Is she hurt in some way?” he asked.

  This was a small break. It was time to get on friendlier terms. “What is your name?” I asked. I hoped it gave him the impression I was not accustomed to giving personal information out to a hired worker.

  “My name is Raymond. What is yours?”

  Raymond had authority.

  I introduced myself giving only my first name. “Angelina is not hurt in any way. I have information about her that her father needs to know about.” This was pushing it, I realized. Raymond could be friendly enough with Angelina to call her to verify my relationship with her. This was the crucial point of our conversation. “She is not in harm’s way. This is a friendly visit only,” I said.

  “In that case, your best bet is to call Mr. Grey and leave a message as to when he can meet with you.”

  Raymond knew the ropes well. The only thing I accomplished today was to locate the home of
Thornton and to meet his gardener who refused to budge. I thanked him and once again drove down the long drive to the main road and back across the East River.

  “I should have known the house would not be left unguarded,” I said aloud.

  I dialed Angelina and got her voice mail. I wanted to ask her the exact duties of Raymond and his role in her father’s life. The question of how many boats her father owned and used for himself had to be asked, too.

  I waited a full six hours before Angelina returned my call. I asked her about Raymond.

  “He has been with my father since I was in high school. My parents were still together then. That was approximately sixteen years ago.” I mentally calculated she was in her thirties. “He is faithful to my father and can be trusted completely.”

  “Have you asked him about your father’s whereabouts?” I asked her.

  “I talked with Raymond the second day when I could not reach him. He told me he had not seen my father for a few days. That is not uncommon, Candace. Raymond is there daily, and often when my father is at home, they do not see each other.”

  “What was Raymond’s mood?”

  “I am not sure what you are asking, but to me he appeared to speak as normally as any other time.”

  “I have another question for you, Angelina.” I inquired as to the number of yachts Thornton used for his own pleasure. I couldn’t tell if she was counting in her head or did not want to give me the information. She finally answered.

  “He has several, but all except the Temptress are dry-docked and in a shed at Winchester near his property.”

  “Do you mean they are in for repair? That is my understanding of dry dock.”

  She laughed softly. “That is the term my father uses when he puts his boats in a shed and does not intend to use them.”

  I thanked her for her time, and we ended the call after I got directions to the boat shed. That meant a second trip across the East River very soon.

  Now that I was into solving the supposed disappearance of Thornton Grey, his daughter relaxed more each time I talked with her. She apparently loaded all her hopes on me, but so far I was not so sure he vanished due to foul play. That would come later. I was glad she trusted me this much.

  Chapter 3

  James Butler

  The next morning I was greeted by Natalie, who handed me a message. Someone named James Butler wanted to see me.

  “Give him a call and see if he can come in this afternoon, Natalie,” I said. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  She shook her head. “When I asked him that question, he answered me in a way that told me he had no intentions of telling me. His voice demanded rather than requested time with you.”

  The only option was to wait and see what James Butler wanted. My hopes soared at the thought he could be a new client. Business was picking up, and I was ready to give Natalie more responsibilities in the minor cases. Another employee may be feasible in the near future. There was still one room unoccupied and mainly used for storage of supplies. I looked at the large walk-in closet to the right of the front door.

  “When you have a minute, will you start organizing that closet? I am thinking we should empty the smaller room next to mine, and in the future you could use it when working on some of these cases.”

  Natalie’s black eyes sparkled beneath long lashes. I told her I was thinking of hiring a part-time person to answer calls and set appointments. “I want to start giving you some of the cases that are suddenly piling up.”

  As soon as she set the appointment with James Butler, she immediately began organizing the closet. By the end of the day I knew she would have cleared the office designated for her.

  I heard the front door opening around three. A shadow loomed in the foyer. Natalie’s voice quivered at first before she took command of it. She escorted James Butler into my office. Though he did not really have to duck at the entrance, he did so. He had to be at least six feet tall. Coal-black hair covered every bit of his head. High cheekbones and a dark complexion gave a certain air of someone in command. His face could have been etched feature by feature on a stone or marble carving and recognized immediately. I stood to greet him from behind my desk.

  He easily reached for my hand and grasped it in a strong handshake and then abruptly released it.

  He got right to the point. “You are looking into the disappearance of Thornton Grey,” he said. “I advise you to look closer to home on suspects.”

  “What is your relationship with Thornton Grey, Mr. Butler?” I asked.

  “We have been very good friends since our younger days. I am a former business partner of his in the shipping business. I am here to give you my take on this affair that Angelina has put you up to.”

  He did not flinch. Neither did I. “I am open to listening to what you have to say.” In truth, I needed all the input I could get at this point.

  “Angelina and her husband, Camden Thomason, wish to give the impression they are very close to her father. She is more interested in his monetary status than any emotional tie with him. Camden is a well-known stockbroker on Wall Street, and he is very influential.”

  “What is your conclusion, and why do you think as you do?”

  For the first time since his arrival, James Butler glanced my way with a tinge of admiration in his eyes.

  “I see you are professional and know how to cut to the chase,” he said. “Angelina has been given everything she ever wanted all of her life. When her parents divorced she chose to stay near her father. Her mother lives in Puerto Rico and enjoys the benefits of the breakup. Angelina did not want to get too far away from her father’s wealth.”

  “She told me she talks with him nearly every day, either by phone or by texting him. She is concerned because he has not answered her calls, though bills are still being paid and his property is still being taken care of.”

  The massive frame leaned toward me. He was almost close enough for me to touch his face if I wanted to. I didn’t do that nor did I want to. “She talks with him daily to keep an eye on what he is doing in his business dealings. She is most afraid that he will cut her out of his will.” I waited to give him time to realize he had to say more. “She is so afraid she will be cut out that she has taken things into her own hands. He is nowhere to be found because she and Camden have made sure he is gone and no one will find him.”

  “Are you presuming this is a case of murder?” The massive frame remained taut. I continued. “Besides, why would the Thomasons be so intent on accruing more money? From what I learned, Camden Thomason does very well for himself. What is his interest in getting rid of his father-in-law?” For a split second I ignored the man in front of me and focused on a closed folder in front of me. “If they wanted to get rid of him, and his body is never found, it would take years for the courts to pronounce him dead. That would take a long time for them to wait for his will to be read and accepted.”

  “You have some good points. Both Angelina and Camden are young. They will be patient. It is their way to make everything look the way they want his disappearance to look.”

  “I get what you are telling me, Mr. Butler. However, you have not given me anything except conjecture on your part. According to you, Angelina is a greedy daughter, and for some reason her husband wants more, as well. Both did away with him, in your opinion, which is a strong accusation,” I reminded him. “There is no real motive here in my eyes. I need more from you than this. No court would take a second look at your surmises.”

  “I hope you will look more into Thornton’s family and see what you can find. I want to know what has happened to my friend, and his own family should be scrutinized.”

  He stood and once more his presence sucked the air from the room. I told him I would look at every angle. James Butler’s long strides caused his arrival at the front door in short time.

  After he left, I dialed my friend Detective Ben Johnson. “If you have a few minutes, I would like to see you in a half hour or so. I
f you are busy, then tomorrow morning is fine.”

  Ben agreed the next morning would be better. “It looks like nothing is so important around nine that can’t wait.”

  Ben and I both grew up in the same neighborhood, and we knew a lot of people. He knew the ins and outs of some better than I did. I needed to put this case on the table in front of him to get his opinion. I wanted to know more about James Butler, and I wondered why he left the partnership with Thornton Grey. For that matter, how did he know I was taking the case of the missing magnate? Thoughts flooded my mind in regard to Angelina and her husband. How close to Thornton was his son-in-law?

  Suddenly, I had an idea. When I found the telephone number of the Wall Street stockbroker’s office, I dialed it. A cultured voice answered on the other end.

  “Is Mr. Thomason expecting your call?”

  “He is not. I know he will want to take my call. It concerns his father-in-law.”

  It did not take long for Angelina’s husband to answer my call. For someone so successful, his voice held a slight tremor. After I introduced myself, he stated he had heard of his father-in-law’s disappearance. At first, I found no words to answer his remark. Then I remembered a courage that I depended on in such circumstances.

  “I’m not sure if I understand your remark,” I said. “Your wife, Angelina, has hired me to find him. I was sure she discussed the matter with you.”

  A loaded pause ensued. Then he responded. “To tell you the truth, Miss McCauley, I rarely have time for elaborate conversations with my wife. I’m afraid I spend more time in my office than with my family. In response to your comment, Angelina did tell me she was worried about her father. I did not realize he is actually missing.”