“But Aaron’s first name is Jacob.”
“So?” He wasn’t usually slow on the uptake.
“Jacob. Jacobson. If they were using aliases, they might have chosen names with a—”
“Another code?” Daniel jumped in before I could finish. “That’s pushing it, don’t you think?” His smile was mocking and his attitude just short of insulting. His insinuation about nothing materializing from the knotted rope hit a nerve and had me thinking how glad I was the jerk had a plane to catch.
“Had you let me complete my sentence, I was about to suggest the possibility they chose aliases that had an association with something of a personal nature, like their families.”
There was a subtle eye roll before he emptied his wine glass, pulled out his wallet, and withdrew some bills. “My treat. I’ve got to run. But you stay and finish.”
“You don’t think it’s at least worth checking into? If there are other Welkmans on the Temple Alumni list, maybe they fit Ashley and Vince’s descriptions?”
He frowned as he stood, but said, “Sure, why not? I’ll have someone take a look. Still, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The Temple connection, if it proves to be a valid scenario, could be purely coincidental.”
Was this not the man who less than a month ago told me that he did not believe in coincidences? That every variable, even the most improbable, must still be examined?
“You’ll let me know what you find out?” I asked as he began to walk away.
“Who should I call first? You? Or Chuckles?” He said over his shoulder, but didn’t wait for an answer.
Daniel was playing a role, I had no doubt. I watched him cross the parking lot, phone to his ear. He looked worried.
* * *
“You’ve been quiet lately,” my sister said. I should have ignored the call.
“It’s been a bit busy on this end.” Not wanting to get into the details of the investigation or what was going on with Aaron Welkman, I picked a much safer topic. “Steve Morrison finished work on the carriage house, and the first tenant arrives in two weeks.”
“You don’t sound very excited.”
“There’s still a lot to do to get it ready. I’m sure he’d like to have sheets and towels and dishes.”
“So it’s a man?” The mother-hen voice. “What’s he like?”
“I haven’t met him yet.”
“Have you at least had Brooks conduct a background check?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“You are far too trusting. Haven’t you learned anything from your most recent fiasco?”
Amazingly, I resisted the snappy comeback dancing on the tip of my tongue and offered a brief bio of my new tenant. Though I was truly surprised Lu hadn’t already told Zoe everything about him, since she’s the one who found him.
“He’s an illustrator for children’s books, with a January deadline. He’s booked through the end of the year and will be going back and forth between here and Rhode Island, where he lives with his wife and three teenage daughters. In addition to needing a quiet refuge for his work, I’m guessing he’ll be delighting in a respite from his estrogen-infused household. I think I’ll be safe.”
“Hmph.” Zoe’s murmur could have meant anything. “Nonetheless, you might not need the additional income, what with your new artistic success.”
“I don’t see why I can’t do both.” I was actually looking forward to an influx of creative types taking up temporary residence in the carriage house. “I’d like to maintain a viable Plan B.”
“So have you deposited that large check yet?”
I hadn’t been able to gauge where Lu’s loyalties rested now that I was a client, but suspecting the bonds of lifelong friendship would win out, I chose the more prudent route.
“Lu’s waiting for all the sales to be finalized.”
“Why the delay?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll repay your loan.” First I had to pay Steve Morrison, but there would be enough to cover all my debts, even without Aaron Welkman. I would be starting clean and solvent again.
“I only wanted to share in your joy.”
When it came to my sister, I had a constant internal tug-of-war between anger and shame. Anger at Zoe’s ability to so easily assume the role of martyr when it suited her, and then embarrassment for hurting her feelings through defensive reflexes.
“Sorry. I’m just tired.” It was the truth. I was exhausted from trying to weave into place all the unraveling threads to the mysteries consuming my world.
“It hasn’t been a kind year, has it?”
“No.” I exhaled the stale breath of fatigue. “It hasn’t.”
“But things are looking up, right? Especially with this new buyer?”
“He had some pressing business in Boston, but he’s coming back out to Whale Rock on Wednesday.”
“Do you have any reason to think it could fall through?”
“Only if he’s discovered another unknown but up-and-coming artist in Boston.” I made my voice playful to ease her concerns.
“That’s unlikely.”
“Don’t you think it strange, though, that someone would want to buy up my entire collection?”
“Maybe. But a buyer is a buyer.” Denial. It was always the easier route. However, that was my usual modus operendi, not hers.
Time to cast the lure. “Remember my telling you Edgar Faust was at the exhibit?”
“Vaguely.”
“Did Lu mention that he bought three of my paintings?”
“No, I don’t think she did.” Displeasure was seeping into her tone. “Actually, I’m quite sure she didn’t.”
“Anyhow, Edgar and his partner invited me out to their home in Chatham.”
“Why would they do that?” Her voice was sharp.
“They wanted to show me where they planned to hang the paintings. They selected three of The Bluffs, which is fitting. Did you know he won a literary award for the book he wrote?”
“No, I wasn’t aware. Honey, I’m going to have to get going. I have a meeting.” Avoidance. There was no meeting. It was code for not wishing to continue this line of discussion. We really were doing a role switcheroo today.
“Okay. But before you do, let me ask you something.”
“Make it quick.”
“Can you send me Mama’s journal? I’d very much like to read it.”
I’d poked the bear with a short stick just as I entered a dead zone, and for once the call was dropped at a most convenient time.
Moments later the phone chimed again, but it wasn’t Zoe—it was Brooks, asking me to meet him.
“I’ll be in Eastham in about twenty minutes. Do you want to meet at Wizards?” I suggested.
“Where are you now?’
“On my way back from Hyannis. I had an appointment with an acupuncturist.” It was the only thing I could come up with to avoid explaining why I wasn’t in or near Whale Rock.
“Not Wizards. The Jail House is closer.”
* * *
During Prohibition, the Jail House Tavern was home to the town constable, who also used it as a lockup for rum runners on the Cape. Turning it into a tavern seemed ironically appropriate. Tonight it was empty, save for Brooks enjoying a piece of apple pie a là mode near the fireplace.
“Hey, there.” I sat heavily as the bartender brought over a pot of coffee to refill Brooks’s mug and a menu for me. I waved it away and said, “Just decaf for me.”
After a steaming mug had been placed before me, and we were alone, Brooks asked, “Why are you having acupuncture?”
I rubbed my wrists.
“Occupational hazard.” It wasn’t an outright lie.
“Does it work?” he asked after finishing his last bite of pie.
“We’ll see. So what happened with Cindy?” I briskly directed the talk away from my fib.
“She’s too slippery.”
I secretly cheered for her.
“Can you tell me why you�
��re pursuing her? Or would that be breaking the rules?”
“Allegedly,” he emphasized the word, “she tried to sell a rare Greek gold coin at the Metal Exchange.”
Bizarre, but hardly illegal. “Since when is that a crime?” I thought about the recent windfall she’d mentioned, but decided it best not to say anything to Brooks—at least not yet.
“It’s not. But the dealer claimed Cindy was acting strange.”
“She is strange,” I argued in her defense.
“True. He also began to question how Cindy came into possession of such a unique coin.”
“Maybe it’s a family heirloom?”
His expression was dubious. “It was the second time such a coin had been brought into the Exchange in recent weeks, which is suspicious. I need to take a look at that coin, if Cindy hasn’t already unloaded it.”
I was stirring sugar into my coffee and thinking about what a mess Cindy might have landed in.
“More to the point,” Brooks continued, “there’s a potential connection with another case. The coin in question apparently bears an interesting symbol.”
“How so?”
“It’s imprinted with”—he inhaled deeply—“a phoenix.”
I sat motionless, blinking at him, letting the words sink in.
“The phoenix,” I whispered, laying my hand atop my tummy. Another flicker of a memory surfaced. I looked down at my bare ring finger. Suddenly I had a very good idea where I might have left Fiona’s emerald ring.
“Weird coincidence?”
“Too weird to be a coincidence. The phoenix tie-in? Cindy working at Hilliard House with access to the Jacobsons’ room?” He took a gulp of coffee. “Not to mention the dealer’s description of the man who brought in the first coin. Tall, dark hair, mid to late twenties. Sound familiar?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“And, it’s apparently quite valuable. However, the young man—let’s call him Vince—had been eager to cash in, so it was a lower take than had he waited for the dealer to sell it at auction.”
“I gather Cindy was eager to cash in too?”
“You got it. Have you heard from her?” Brooks’s voice held a sternness that made me wriggle like a naughty child.
“Not since the night she showed up at my house.”
“Do you know how to get in touch with her?”
“I’ll ask around.” No need to involve Sylvia or Tommy in this mess.
“You do that.” He stared fiercely.
I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee so as not to have to speak. I was an easy read.
“I did some checking. Besides Aaron, there was only one other Welkman enrolled at Temple University, some thirty years ago.”
“Aaron’s son?”
“Nope. Her name was Viola.”
“Okay, so Aaron’s daughter?” I told him about Ashley’s triple-legacy comment. “I’d assumed that meant son, father, and grandfather. But of course it could be Vince’s mother, right? And that likely means Vince has a different last name.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Well, there is something else. Promise not to be angry?” I asked meekly.
“What have you done?” He pushed back his chair from the table.
“Not until you promise.”
He groaned. “What are we, in junior high school?”
I held my ground.
His hands rose in submission. “I promise.”
I took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Ashley and Vince’s photo was recognized at a bar called Johnny Brenda’s near Temple University in Philadelphia. But the staff remembered them as Laura and Jay.”
To his credit, Brooks didn’t scream or storm from the room, though he had to know the source of that information.
“I have a theory.”
“Of course you do.”
“I think they may have changed their identities as a way to hide. Ashley told me they lost something important in a fire. That’s the night they got their tattoos. Apparently, they were both in a state of near hysterics one of the last times they were seen at Johnny Brenda’s. The staff overheard them talking about losing something and being upset because now nobody would believe them. I’m thinking that whatever was lost could be the key to understanding this mystery.”
Brooks stared at me, drumming his fingers on the table. He was giving me nothing.
Even though we were alone in the bar room, I leaned in and whispered, “Do you think they could they have been in the witness protection program?”
“Impossible.” He scoffed, sticking a pin in my hope-filled balloon. “When someone from the witness protection program settles into an area, local law enforcement must be informed. Scratch that part of your theory.”
“Oh pooh.” Pooh? Another thought popped into my head. Could it have been a phoenix coin Ashley and Vince traded for the bronze Winnie the Pooh? That would certainly cement the connection between the Greek coin Cindy was trying to sell with Ashley and Vince, and it was valuable. A visit to Archie Stanfield’s shop was added to the list.
In the meantime, Brooks was killing me with his silent contemplation.
“What do you think?”
“What I think …” He rubbed his face with his hands, then sighed heavily, “I think we have some work to do before your art benefactor returns.”
“Oh, Chuckles, thank you.” I’d regained an ally.
* * *
When I got home, the lights in the den were flickering, and my laptop was on, showing that same photo of Ashley and Vince in the cemetery.
“Okay,” I cried out, and the lamps calmed. I sat down at the desk and stared intently at the picture on the screen. What was I supposed to see here?
I was startled by the phone’s shrill ring and snatched it up quickly.
“Hi, Cassie? This is Jessica Tanner.”
“I’m sorry, who?” I clicked to zoom in on the photo.
“Teddy’s girlfriend. I met you the other night at the gallery?”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“I need to tell you something”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“about Ashley and Vince.”
“Where are you?” I gave her my full attention.
“At Teddy’s. He’s in the shower, so I only have a few minutes. He wouldn’t want me to call you. When I told him I wanted to report what I knew, he thought I’d be causing more trouble for Ash and Vince. But I’ve been struggling.”
I didn’t want to seem pushy, so all I said was, “It’s been hard on everyone involved.”
“I’ve been so worried about them.”
“What can I do to help?”
“I’m not sure how important or useful this is, but I’d rather someone in a position of authority make that judgment. I would have told Chief Kincaid, but you can probably guess why that wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
“Sure.” I couldn’t really, but I was too focused on what she had to say about my missing friends. “You did the right thing by calling me. Can you tell me now? Or I can meet you somewhere?”
“Let me go outside for a minute.” I heard the soft creak of a door hinge. “Please don’t tell anyone where you came by this information. I don’t want Teddy angry with me.”
“We never had this conversation.”
She let out her breath. “I think they may have been on the run from someone or some threat.”
“What makes you say that?” I didn’t let on that I’d been imagining the same thing.
“One night the four of us were at Teddy’s, and I found Ashley crying in the bathroom. She was a little drunk and said she was missing her family, especially her little brother. It was his birthday, and she was upset because she couldn’t call him.”
“Did she say why not?”
“This is where it becomes troubling. I thought maybe she didn’t have her phone, so I offered mine and suggested she call him right then. But she shook her head and said, ‘Too l
ate. We’re dead.’ ”
I felt icy fingers on my spine.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. She started crying again and said something like, ‘That damn file changed our lives forever.’ ”
“She said ‘file,’ not ‘fire’?”
“Yes. File. I’m sure of it because she freaked out so much as soon as she said it, begging me not to repeat what she’d told me, and not let on to Vince that she had. She said he’d made her promise not to say anything to anyone. It was sorta hard to follow, but it sounded like maybe they’d told the wrong person about it before, and it had caused all kinds of problems.”
My head was filling with questions. Had a file been lost in a fire? If so, what information had the file contained? “Did she seem frightened?”
“Yes.”
“When was this, Jess?”
“Just a few days before they disappeared. I wanted to keep my promise to her, but I couldn’t live with myself if I withheld information that might help find them.”
We were both silent for a moment before she added, “I know. I should have told someone sooner.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision.”
“Do you think any of what I’ve told you will help?”
“It might. Did Ashley mention anything about where she was from? Her brother’s name? Any family details?”
“Not really. I know she’s from down South, but I’m vague on where.”
I was too.
“I have to go, I think Teddy’s out of the shower,” Jess whispered.
“Please call me if anything else comes to mind.”
“I will.”
“One more thing,” I added quickly. “Is Teddy a good sailor?”
“Oh yeah, he’s excellent.”
I hung up with a gnawing in my stomach. If Ashley and Vince were frightened of being pursued, had it been by the stalker in the woods? Or Henry Beamer from Albany? Or was Henry Beamer the stalker in the woods? Most importantly: had whoever it was already caught them?
I clicked the mouse to bring the laptop screen back to life. But instead of the cemetery photo I expected, it was the photo of my grandfather looking back at me. Years ago Ethan had restored what few old family photographs there were and saved them on my laptop. The photo had been taken in front of the Femme Celeste, and it must have been right before Ambrose shipped off, because he was flexing his muscles to show off his new tattoos. Vulcan and Neptune. Vulcan. The night I was getting my tattoo, Ashley had mentioned a statue of Vulcan in her hometown.
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