by Leona Karr
“Do you often patrol the wharf at night?”
“No, I just happened to be down at the wharf when I saw Jenkins ram the boat into the pier,” he said as he started the car.
“Has there been any news of my sister?”
He shook his head.
Anxiety made her voice strained. “I want to talk to someone in charge.”
“I guess that would be me.”
She must have misunderstood. “What?”
“I’m the only law officer on the island.”
“No, that can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is,” he replied firmly. “Greystone Island has a year-round population of only a few hundred people. Granted, in the summer months it doubles, but for the most part, the demands for law enforcement are slight. I can handle it by myself and with my one deputy. But the fact is—”
“That you’re not qualified to handle anything serious,” she finished in a strained voice. She couldn’t believe it! Her sister was missing and there wasn’t any qualified police force looking for her.
“You’re quick to assume the worst, aren’t you?” he replied as his dark brown eyes appraised her.
“I don’t hide from the truth in any situation.” Her lips trembled. “Not even one as devastating as this one.”
“I see.” His jaw tightened. “Well, I was about to assure you that I have over ten years of experience as a police investigator for the state of Maine. I’ve handled almost every kind of crime you want to mention, and I came to Greystone Island a couple of years ago as the resident police officer.”
“Why?” Her tone clearly inferred there must have been some impropriety involved in the change of assignment.
“I was raised on the island and for personal reasons wanted to come back,” he answered curtly.
“I see.” But she didn’t. She was too much of a city girl to imagine living on a tiny island that was hardly more than a speck in the ocean.
His jaw tightened. “I’ve handled your sister’s disappearance as I would any case, here or on the mainland. A hunting party was organized to scour the island, radio announcements were transmitted to boats coming and going from the island. My deputy and I circled the island in our patrol boat, but in the enveloping fog and thickening storm clouds, visibility was poor.”
“But it’s been hours since she disappeared!” Ashley protested.
“I had to call off the search ’til morning,” he said firmly.
“Someone must have seen her leave the house.”
“Apparently she went for a walk right after breakfast. A fisherman’s wife who brings fresh produce up to the Langdon kitchen came upon some of her things at the edge of a steep drop-off and saw one of her shoes at the bottom of the cliff. I was immediately notified and began the search.” He backed the car away from the pier and headed along a road leading away from the water.
“I’ve questioned the hired staff: a housekeeper, a male Asian cook who doesn’t speak much English and an all-round housemaid. The rest of the help is hired on a needs basis.”
“Yes, Lorrie told me a little bit about it.”
“Apparently your sister sometimes took meals with the family, and sometimes she didn’t. On occasion, she’d walk down to the Wharf Café for breakfast or lunch, and sometimes had dinner at the Chowder House. After a few days, the household paid little attention to her coming and going. We’re fortunate to have discovered her disappearance as soon as we did.”
Not soon enough. She bit her lip to keep back the sharp retort.
“I assume you’ll want to stay with the Langdons.”
Ashley nodded. “If they’ll agree to it.” They would know whether or not Officer Taylor was as capable and well-trained as he presented himself to be. She didn’t know how to justify her feelings, but she felt more should have been done in the hours her sister had been missing.
“Do you know the Langdons well?” she asked in an even tone as if she’d accepted his explanations.
“I guess it depends on what you mean by know. Of course, everyone on the island knows them, but mostly by name and reputation. When I was a teenager, I attended some annual celebrations they sponsored on the lawns of their property, but since my return over a year ago, I haven’t had the occasion to be in their company. Until now, with the investigation.”
“They stay on the island year round?”
“No. In the summer there’s a parade of wealthy visitors who rent the summer cottages on the southwestern high cliffs, but after Labor Day they are mostly deserted. Usually the Langdons have left by this time, but for some reason, the elder Clayton Langdon is staying longer than usual.”
“My sister told me that his son, Jonathan, is really in charge. Lorrie said he wasn’t very friendly. All business.”
“I can believe that. Jonathan is fifty and he’s been taking over the reins of the family’s finances for several years now. His father, Clayton, is a widower in his late seventies. The only woman relative in the house is Ellen Brenden, Jonathan Langdon’s late wife’s sister, and she’s about Jonathan’s age.”
“There isn’t any Mrs. Jonathan Langdon?”
“No. Jonathan’s late wife, Samantha, was killed in an automobile accident some twenty-five years ago. She left a baby girl only a few months old. Raised without a mother, Pamela Langdon grew up spoiled and she died from a drug overdose two years ago, shortly before I came back to the island. She was only twenty-three. Pamela’s death was hard on her father and her grandfather.”
“I can imagine.” Ashley suppressed a shiver. What a tragic family. What kind of ill fate had drawn her sister into it?
As they headed for the Langdon house, the car windows grew foggy, and a narrow dirt road plunged into the darkness of thick trees and huge granite boulders. The pitch of the car told Ashley they were climbing at a steep angle.
The headlights swept across jagged rocks, and spumes of white foam rose in the air. She could tell they were skirting the edge of a steep shoreline. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands as the sound of pounding surf grew louder and louder. A sudden deluge of raindrops splattered in a mesmerizing pattern on the windshield as strong winds whipped them against the car.
“How far is it?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Within walking distance of the wharf,” he assured her. “But not on a night like this. The Langdon house sits on the highest point at the southwestern tip of the island. There’s a great view when the weather’s clear, but its location makes it vulnerable to wind, rain and fierce winters.”
Ashley sat rigidly in the seat, staring straight ahead. Lorrie…Lorrie.
“Tell me, what exactly was your sister doing for the Langdons?” he asked, which surprised her. Surely he’d been informed of her assignment at the house. She had the feeling he was just trying to keep her mind occupied.
Briefly, she explained the Langdon family’s decision to auction some of the vintage clothing that had been collected since the turn of the century.
“A lot of money involved?” he prodded in a slightly skeptical tone.
“A handmade gown by a noted designer can bring as much as a hundred thousand dollars.”
He let out a slow whistle.
“Private collectors, dealers and museums are always on the lookout for the kind of vintage clothing that the Langdons have decided to put on the market. Prices have shot up eighty percent in the last five years. There’s a charm about antique clothing and jewelry. Lorrie was excited that she was the one chosen to catalog everything.” Ashley’s voice broke as she remembered how happy her sister had been when the assignment had been confirmed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”
They both fell silent.
A few minutes later, he swung the car in a half circle and parked at the side of a sprawling, three-story structure that seemed to be balanced precariously on high ground facing the rocky Atlantic shoreline below. All the windows were dark except for a couple
on the main floor. The roar of the crashing surf was like a greedy monster lashing at the land with a crazed fury.
“This is known as the Langdon compound,” he explained as he hurriedly guided her along a walk to the front of a white mansion. “There are several outbuildings and a private dock below the mansion.”
She straightened her shoulders and brushed damp bangs back from her forehead as they mounted wide steps to a pair of carved doors. She had never felt more unkempt and had never cared less!
“Be careful,” he said as he rang the doorbell.
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. Watch yourself. There’s a pattern of violence in the Langdon family.” His tone was hard as the granite rocks strewn along the beach. “Tragedy seems to follow anyone who unwittingly gets snared in their web.”
Chapter Two
The front door was opened by a tall, angular woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight knot. She wore a shapeless dark dress that accented her beanpole figure. As she admitted them into the entrance hall, her sharp glance went to their wet shoes; she looked as if she might order them to take the sodden footwear off before allowing them any farther into the house.
“Evening, Mrs. Mertz,” Brad said, nodding. He’d met the widowed housekeeper earlier when interviewing the family after Lorrie’s disappearance. The austere woman had answered his questions curtly, maintaining she hadn’t even been aware of Lorrie Davis leaving the house. Edith Mertz’s attitude had given him the impression that she hadn’t thought the comings and goings of the young woman were worthy of her attention.
“Will you inform the family that Ashley Davis, sister of the missing woman, has just arrived from California.” Brad’s tone made it sound more like an order than request.
“They’re in the family sitting room,” she replied curtly. “Understandably upset. I certainly hope you will clear this up quickly, Officer. The entire household has been distressed by this unfortunate event.” Her tone clearly indicated she thought the island’s poor police protection was to blame. “Follow me, Miss Davis.”
As she turned away, Ashley shot him a questioning look. Despite all her bravado, he could tell she was looking for his support.
“You want me to stay?”
“Yes, please.”
He had decided to leave her suitcase in the car until they knew what kind of reception she was going to get. Clearly accepting guests in their home, unless they were personally invited, was not the norm for a prestigious family like the Langdons; they might expect Ashley Davis to find accommodations elsewhere. Unfortunately, seaside cottages were already closed for the season and only a couple of questionable boarding houses took in transient year-round visitors.
He boldly put a guiding hand on her arm as they followed the housekeeper across a wide foyer. They went past a curved staircase mounted against one wall and then down a hall paneled in dark walnut.
They had passed several closed doors when they met a man, wearing a raincoat and carrying a medical bag, coming toward them.
Brad nodded in recognition of the island’s doctor. “Evening, Dr. Hadley.”
He was a tall, nice-looking man in his late forties, with graying dark hair and a well-toned body that matched his alert expression. The doctor was Clayton Langdon’s private physician, and he handled only routine medical cases that arose on the island. All others he sent to the mainland either by boat or arranged a helicopter pickup at the school playing field. A makeshift ambulance van was kept in the garage of the doctor’s home office.
“How is he, Doctor?” Mrs. Mertz demanded in her usual curt manner. “We hated calling you out on a night like this but—”
“No problem,” Dr. Hadley quickly assured her. “Clayton is less agitated now, and I left something for a good night’s sleep when he’s ready to retire.” He nodded at Brad. “Evening, Officer. Any new developments?”
“’Fraid not.”
The doctor glanced at Ashley. “My goodness, young lady, you look chilled to the bone. You’d better get into some dry clothes and have something hot to drink. We don’t need another patient in the house.”
“No, we certainly don’t,” Edith Mertz echoed with pursed lips as if Ashley were bringing some kind of sickness into the house.
“From the sound of that wind, we’re in for a night of it.” He gave them a brisk nod and continued down the hall toward the front door.
Mrs. Mertz led them deeper into the house and then turned into a brightly lit sitting room warmed by blazing logs in a large fireplace.
Three people sat in chairs near the fire. Brad kept his hand on Ashley’s arm as they moved toward them. An elderly Clayton Langdon squinted at them, and his fifty-year-old son, Jonathan, frowned at the intrusion. A slightly built woman, somewhat younger than the men, rose to her feet with the habitual response of a hostess to unexpected guests.
She was Ellen Brenden, the sister of Jonathan’s late wife, Samantha, who had been killed in that automobile accident on the mainland nearly twenty-five years ago. Now in her forties, Ellen had become a fixture in the Langdon’s household.
Brad liked her. Ellen was a spry and energetic woman with dishwater brown hair cut short around a full face. She wore a colorful, trendy outfit designed for a younger woman. Living with the Langdon family afforded her a comfortable lifestyle, but Brad thought that meeting the demands of the two Langdon men couldn’t be an easy row to hoe.
“This is Ashley Davis, the dead girl’s sister,” Mrs. Mertz announced in her abrasive manner.
“Missing sister,” Brad loudly corrected her.
“Oh, yes, of course…missing,” Ellen Brenden stammered as if trying to rectify the housekeeper’s embarrassing error.
Brad guided Ashley across the room to where Clayton Langdon and Jonathan were sitting. “Miss Davis flew in from California this evening in response to her sister’s disappearance,” he told them briskly.
Jonathan had quickly risen to his feet. He was a man of medium height and weight, slightly round-shouldered, with a furrowed brow which seemed to reflect heavy responsibilities. As acting head of the family, he looked older than fifty.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Davis.” He offered his hand. “I regret the unhappy circumstances,” he added in an apologetic tone.
“Damned confounding! That’s what it is,” bellowed the seventy-nine-year-old Clayton. As he fastened wrinkle-lidded eyes on Ashley, he clamped his sagging mouth shut and lapsed into a belligerent silence.
“Is there anything new?” Jonathan quickly asked Brad, ignoring his father’s outburst.
“Not yet.”
“This must be very trying for you, Miss Davis,” Jonathan said sympathetically.
“How could such a thing like this happen?” Ashley demanded, worry and bewilderment in her voice.
“Very unfortunate,” Jonathan agreed in a people-management tone.
“Just awful,” Ellen echoed. “She was…is…a very pleasant and agreeable young woman. All of this is too frightful to believe. What could have—”
“Where is your home, Miss Davis?” Jonathan asked, deliberately interrupting.
“San Francisco. I came as soon as I received the news of her disappearance. It took all day because I had to change planes and make three connections.”
Clayton grunted as he leaned forward in his chair. The old man’s heavy-lidded eyes reflected a far-off look, but his voice was surprisingly firm. “Traveling is always exhausting under the best conditions, young lady. Even in a private plane you have to contend with all the time changes.”
An exasperated look crossed Ashley’s tired face. Brad knew her nerves were already threadbare. Trying to cope with mounting anxiety was taking its toll. He quickly intervened.
“Dr. Hadley wanted Miss Davis to have something warm to drink and perhaps a robe around her shoulders.”
“Oh yes, a cup of hot tea,” Ellen responded quickly. “It’s a late hour for coffee, isn’t it? Please sit here, Miss Da
vis.” She motioned to a nearby chair and as Ashley wearily dropped down into it, Ellen handed her a knitted afghan.
“Thank you,” Ashley said as she spread it over her damp lap and legs.
“I made it myself. Pretty isn’t it?”
As if enjoying the unexpected company, Ellen happily gave her attention to a silver teapot and china cups that were already sitting on a nearby small table.
“I was enjoying a cup of peppermint tea myself,” she bubbled. “Cream? Sugar? Lemon?”
Ashley just nodded as if making a choice was too demanding. Brad took the cup of tea from Ellen and carefully placed it in Ashley’s trembling hands.
“I expect you would probably prefer a highball, Officer Taylor,” Jonathan spoke up as if he’d already anticipated Brad’s answer.
“I never drink on the job,” Brad answered evenly. He’d learned earlier in life that it was better not to socialize with any of the island’s wealthy inhabitants.
Even as a teenager growing up on Greystone, he’d viewed the Langdons’ social whirl from afar. Since he’d been back, his contact with the parade of wealthy visitors who rented cottages at the southwest tip of the island had been purely in the line of duty. Only the disappearance of a woman in the Langdon household had gained him entry into this pseudopolite rich society.
After taking a few sips of tea, Ashley said firmly, “Now, I would appreciate hearing from all of you anything you can tell me about my sister’s disappearance.”
“I’m sure Officer Taylor has filled you in,” Jonathan responded smoothly. “We know little more than what we told him.”
“And what was that?” she asked pointedly.
Jonathan looked at Brad as if he expected him to speak up, but Brad deliberately kept silent. Sometimes people tripped themselves up when they tried to repeat the same story in the same way.
Jonathan cleared his voice. “We have arrangements with one of the local housewives to bring fresh produce and seafood to the house every day. She found a woman’s belongings on a cliff not far from here. She brought them to the house, and our housemaid, Clara, recognized them as belonging to your sister. The circumstances seemed dire and we quickly reported her absence.”