Dead of Summer

by Sherry Knowlton

  Tyrell’s smile evaporated. “Look, I get hit on all the time. When it’s a young girl, I’m pretty brutal. Maybe they’ll think twice before they flirt with an older man—or respond to some old dude who’s trying to pick them up.”

  “Maybe your intentions were pure, but that was pretty harsh. Do you save your routine just for young girls or does it work for all ages? I take it you live in constant danger of women coming on to you?” Alexa pushed her chair back a few inches.

  “What can I say? The ladies want me. But I don’t always say no if the lady is fine.” This time, Tyrell’s smile lit up his green eyes as he leaned toward Alexa and took her hand.

  Alexa flinched at Tyrell’s touch and jerked her hand away at the surge of warmth. Unnerved, she struggled to maintain a haughty tone.

  “Mr. Jenkins, as much as I’d love to spend more time talking about your difficulties in fending off women, we’re here to discuss something more important.”

  Tyrell sat up straight. “Of course. The Bertolinos are still frantic. They’ve had no word from Meg. They think that she’s been kidnapped or worse, but the police haven’t turned up anything.”

  “I know. I spoke to Detective Miller earlier this morning. They still believe that it’s more likely that Meg is a runaway. She’s under eighteen, but there is no credible evidence that she has been abducted. No one saw her get into a stranger’s car. There has been no demand for ransom. Nothing on her computer shows that she has been in contact with a child lurer. And kids in foster care often run.”

  “But Meg was happy, well-adjusted. No one who knows her believes she just split.” Tyrell slammed his half-empty cup onto the table, coffee sloshing over the rim.

  “I’m in your camp, but I can do nothing to move the police into further action. I know that they are still investigating, but they’ve pretty much reached a dead end. What about the family’s efforts with Facebook and the posters?” Alexa felt powerless to help the family, and she hated the feeling.

  “Nothing.”

  “One thing I could suggest is that Mr. and Mrs. Bertolino reach out to our state senator.”

  “Fran Dodge?”

  “Yeah. She’s got an office in town. Sometimes, pressure from above can move things along.”

  Tyrell dropped the Mr. Cool act as his voice lowered. “The strange thing is that now two of the girls from my youth group have just up and disappeared, within weeks of each other. The first to vanish, Aurora Washington, could easily be a runaway. Her home life sucks. I thought she was too smart to take off, but something could have happened with her mother that sent Aurora running. But Meg just doesn’t fit that mold.”

  Alexa sat up at the mention of Aurora Washington—she had missed her clinic appointment, but confidentiality rules prohibited Alexa from discussing that with Tyrell.

  “Please tell Ed and Toni that I’m sorry I didn’t get anywhere with the police. I’d be happy to speak to them directly if they want. I can’t even imagine what they are going through. We can only hope that Meg is OK and that she returns home safely.”

  Alexa put money on the table for the drinks and rose to her feet. “I need to get back to the office.”

  Tyrell stood to shake Alexa’s hand. “Thanks for your help, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll keep in touch about Meg.”

  As Alexa walked back to her office, she thought about Tyrell. Talk about mercurial. One minute he was haughty Don Juan and the next he was a concerned social worker. He might be totally hot, but this guy had Danger Zone written all over him.

  Haley missed yoga class that evening, so Alexa and Melissa skipped the Om Café. Instead, they stood in the parking lot as the light faded. The cool breeze felt good against Alexa’s sweaty skin.

  “How are you doing, Melissa? Do the police have any suspects in either of your burglaries?”

  “No. They think the same person did both. Duh! What a surprise. Other than that, no clue who. No clue why. And I can’t really point the cops in a particular direction. I can understand if they just broke in to rip off a computer and some camera equipment. I guess they could get some money for that somewhere. But why steal some of my memory cards?”

  “Maybe they thought that they could sell them, too?”

  “Maybe, but you can get a memory card for fifteen bucks. You’d have to be an idiot about cameras to think you could get rich pawning used memory cards. Plus, while they took the camera from the gallery, they left the cameras at the house. Who would take memory cards and leave the cameras if they were after money?” Melissa looked perplexed.

  “I might have scared the guy away before he could grab the cameras.”

  “I’m pissed about that thieving, lowlife asshole hurting you. How are your knees?”

  “Yoga mudra was a little painful tonight, but I’ll heal.” Alexa shifted back and forth. The more she thought about her throbbing knees, the more they hurt. “Hey, Jack Nash invited me to a dinner at his house tomorrow night. He says you’re going, too?”

  “I think he invited me because my show raised a lot of money for RESIST. He’s hoping that I’ll inspire some of his rich buddies to do something similar for Children of Light.”

  “I’m glad you’ll be there. He wants me to join the Children of Light Board of Directors.”

  Melissa grinned. “Board of directors? Well, la-di-da. I’ll meet you at Nash’s place. I’m staying with Jim until this burglary is solved, and the Nash compound isn’t too far away. We should have a blast. I hear Nash’s place is fucking unbelievable. Versailles on the South Mountain.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “DAMN, WHAT A PLACE,” Alexa murmured as she pulled the Land Rover behind a line of cars queued in front of Jack Nash’s mansion. The ancient SUV looked a little out of place among the tony assortment of luxury cars. She spied a Range Rover that gleamed like the rich uncle to her ne’er-do-well vehicle.

  A clean-cut, young boy perspiring in a blue blazer tapped on the window. “If you give me your keys, ma’am, I’ll park your car.”

  Alexa slid her heels on and climbed out of the Rover. She coughed at the smell of hot asphalt and idling engines before she responded to the boy. “She’s a little rough between first and second.”

  “No problem. I’ll be careful. This is a Land Rover, right?” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Bitchin’ wheels for a lady like you—begging your pardon.”

  Alexa grinned. “That’s quite a drive up here with the winding road. It felt like I was driving through a tunnel with those tall, narrow cypress trees on both sides.”

  The kid laughed. “I’ve never been to Italy. Hel—I mean, heck—I’ve never been out of Pennsylvania. But I hear that the Nashes copied this house from some huge Italian-type of mansion. I forget what they’re called.”

  “A villa?” Alexa prompted, looking at the ornate columns, stucco walls, and entryway fountain. The alley of cypress had been just a teaser for this Tuscan extravaganza; a villa on steroids.

  “Yes, that’s it.” He lowered his voice again. “I heard the trees are fake though—some type of evergreen that looks like those Italian trees.” Another car approached and the kid hopped into the Rover. “I better clear outta here.”

  Inside, a mousy teenager in a blue dress directed Alexa through an elaborate foyer. The wan-looking girl slumped against the wall as if trying to disappear into the gilded woodwork, but she managed enough energy to steer Alexa toward the right hall.

  Feeling a bit nervous about walking into the unknown, Alexa paused on the threshold of a glass-walled room: a conservatory the size of a high school gym. More than two-dozen people clustered in small groups, chatting with wineglasses in hand.

  Moving past her moment of unease, Alexa squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. A perfectly-coiffed woman in a dark plum cocktail dress drifted forward, offering Alexa a languid hand.

  Alexa smoothed the skirt of her designer knockoff. Unsure whether this was a business dinner or purely social affair, she had compromised with a
fine-knit, tea-length dress to hide her scabbed knees. Now she felt underdressed. Perhaps she should have gone more little black dress.

  She closed the gap between them and took the proffered hand, shaking it with more care than she used in most professional situations. Alexa worried that a strong grip might snap this woman’s wrist.

  “You must be Alexa Williams. I’m Vivienne Nash. So glad you could join us this evening. Jack has been detained, but feel free to join our other guests.”

  Jack Nash’s wife stood ramrod straight; one of those painfully thin society women: all skin and bones and designer dress. Her hair had been expertly tinted a champagne blonde. Alexa assumed that she wore contacts; eyes that genuinely violet had died with Elizabeth Taylor. Vivienne reminded Alexa of many of the partners’ wives from her old New York law firm.

  With an almost imperceptible movement of her wrist, Vivienne gestured toward the far corner of the room. “If you’d like wine, there is a bar by the french doors. Just ask the young man for whatever you want.”

  With the obligatory greeting completed, Vivienne moved away. The hostess seemed so insubstantial that the air barely stirred as she floated across the room.

  Left to fend for herself, Alexa wandered past rows of potted orange trees trimmed into smooth-orbed topiaries. The sweet tang of citrus wafted from the miniature fruits that dotted each tree. When she reached the bar, another well-groomed teenager in a blue blazer launched a recital of wines by name and vintage.

  What was with the Prussian blue uniforms? Had there been a sale at Jo-Ann Fabrics? These kids must all be part of the foster care program, Alexa speculated.

  The boy seemed to struggle to remember what came next after he nailed the pronunciation of the Chateau de Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape 1993. Alexa took pity on the kid. He wasn’t even old enough to drink, but they had him masquerading as a sommelier—a role that probably violated both the child labor and liquor control laws.

  “Do you have a Riesling?” Alexa interrupted.

  The boy sighed in relief and retrieved Alexa’s drink.

  Keeping a firm hold on the fragile crystal glass, Alexa strolled toward the nearest group. As she approached, a gray-haired man smiled at her. “Alexa Williams. I’m Chadwick Young. You may not remember me.”

  “Of course I remember you, Mr. Young. You served as a county commissioner during my mother’s first term.” Alexa also remembered that Young and her mother had fought about every important issue, but she stayed silent on that point.

  As she circulated through the guests, Alexa relaxed. She’d attended similar social events and soon fell into the groove. It helped that she knew many of the assembled group. Most were local movers and shakers, although a few came from New York and Washington, D.C. Several identified themselves as board members for Children of Light. Others made no mention of their connection to Jack and Vivienne Nash.

  Alexa had just completed her circle of the conservatory when she became trapped in an animated conversation between two guys with golf tans. When they began debating the finer points of various brands of putters, her attention drifted. Then, Quinn Hutton walked into the room.

  Dressed more formally than at Melissa’s opening, he still managed to stand out in the crowd. His slate gray business suit fit his lean body perfectly. She had been around enough high-powered New York City lawyers to know that a fit like that came only from excellent tailoring.

  “Alexa, isn’t it? What is a photography connoisseur doing with a crowd like this?”

  Before she could reply, Quinn brushed his lips against her right cheek, then her left.

  It was all Alexa could do to keep from touching her cheek in surprise. “How European of you, Mr. Hutton. I thought you lived in Thailand, not France.”

  “Quinn, please. We’re old friends now, aren’t we? I did spend a few years in France as well, teaching at an international school. I hope I haven’t offended?”

  “I’m not sure one brief conversation makes us old friends. But a kiss from a handsome man, even just on my cheek, is hardly grounds for complaint. So, what is your connection to this gathering?” Alexa leaned toward Quinn so she could better hear his low-pitched voice amidst the cocktail chatter.

  “Jack and my father were childhood friends. I visited here with my family many times as a child. That’s one of the reasons I jumped on the Dickinson job when I heard it was available. I had such fond memories of this area.”

  “Carlisle must be pretty tame after a life on the road. Living in Thailand and France sounds like a dream.”

  “For me, it was time to wake up from the dream. I wanted to come home to the States. To paraphrase Michael Bublé: I had my run. Baby, I was done. I had to come home.”

  “You relate to your students with Michael Bublé? I’m not sure he’s on most college kids’ playlists.” Alexa choked on a bubble of laughter.

  “No. I aim for connection through Yeats and Blake and Hemingway. That Bublé song was on the radio on my way here. It seemed apropos.” Quinn drew back and straightened up. “Enough about me. I hear you’re joining us on the board?”

  “You’re a board member?” Alexa raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes. Jack trusts me because of the family connection. My father had a hand in the original funding of the organization, although he doesn’t take a formal role in the company. Not to get too corny, but I think Children of Light is an excellent organization. I take a lot of satisfaction from my work on the board.”

  “I haven’t agreed yet, but I’m taking the offer seriously.”

  Melissa’s voice called out behind her. “There you are. As usual, I ran late.”

  When she turned toward her friend, Quinn bent to whisper in Alexa’s ear, his lips brushing her hair. “Don’t worry. The board doesn’t have a lot of stuffy rules. There’s no bylaw that says we can’t become more than old friends.” Before Alexa could respond, Quinn moved away, leaving her intrigued and a bit breathless.

  Shortly after Melissa’s arrival, Jack Nash made his entrance. He raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent. Vivienne stood like a wraith at his side, dimmed even further by her husband’s confidence and vitality. With all eyes on him, Jack gave a tug to each of his cuffs and spoke.

  “Members of the board, friends, welcome. Vivienne and I regard you all as our family, sisters and brothers in support of Children of Light. Armand has prepared a feast for us to enjoy. Shall we make our way to the dining room? Vivienne tells me that place cards on the table indicate where each of you will sit. My wife so loves an interesting mix at table.”

  The group trailed into the huge dining room where a single table easily seated the entire crowd. Young girls in dresses, of course the house shade of blue, helped guide people to their assigned places. Somehow, these youngsters knew most of the guests by sight.

  An elderly gentleman with a florid complexion sat to Alexa’s right. He introduced himself as Jay Goldman and immediately reached for the breadbasket. She searched for Melissa, hoping for a friendly face, but saw her friend heading toward the far end of the table. The place card for the seat on her left angled away so she couldn’t make out the name. Most likely, a self-important banker or, even worse, one of the golfers. Sighing, Alexa braced herself for a boring meal. Then, she felt a hand brush her shoulder and turned to see Quinn taking the chair to her left.

  “What a lovely coincidence.” Alexa remarked, happy to see the intriguing professor.

  “Perhaps more than that. I have an in with our hostess.”

  The meal proved much more pleasant than Alexa had anticipated. She enjoyed the continued banter with Quinn but found much in common with all her nearby dinner companions, even Jay Goldman. The dinner passed quickly. Moments after yet another blue-clad adolescent served an elaborate meringue dessert, Jack Nash stood to address his guests.

  “Thank you again for joining Vivienne and me in our home. Nothing can compare to spending time with friends and family. I am proud to have your support for Children of Light. Withou
t your service and financial backing, we could not continue our successful programs that reach thousands of children in need each year.

  “I want to introduce our two new companions.” He gestured toward Alexa. “Many of you know Alexa Williams or her parents, attorney Norris Williams and former County Commissioner Susan Williams. We have asked Alexa to become a member of the board, following the tragic loss of our friend, Cecily Townes. I hope she agrees to join our cause.”

  So much for giving me time to make a decision, Alexa chafed.

  “The lovely and generous young woman at the far end of the table is Melissa Lambert. She is a remarkable artist whose current photography exhibit provides a vivid window into the lives of unfortunate children in Asia. Her selflessness in donating half of the proceeds from her exhibit to RESIST is even more outstanding. I urge each and every one of you to catch Melissa’s exhibit in the next week.”

  Jack continued to talk about Children of Light’s mission and annual report. Although Alexa needed to learn about the organization, her mind wandered. Glancing down the long table, she stifled a giggle. Put tiaras on the women, tuxedos on the men, and this could pass for an episode of Downton Abbey, she imagined.

  The analogy dimmed a bit when she focused on her host. Jack Nash would never fit the refined role of a titled lord. She pictured him more as one of those brash American robber barons who made their fortunes in commerce and relaxed by filling trophy rooms with taxidermied Kodiak bears and African lions.

  The conclusion of Jack’s speech signaled the end of the dinner. In unison, the guests murmured their thanks for the evening and flocked for the door. Going with the flow, Alexa rose and turned toward the dining room exit.

  Behind her, Quinn touched her arm. “Leaving without saying goodbye?”

  “I was looking for our host.”

  “I saw Jack head for the conservatory. Let me take you there.” When he linked an arm through Alexa’s elbow, she couldn’t help another Downton Abbey flashback.