House of Ashes

by Loretta Marion

  He puzzled for a moment before asking, “The couple that went missing from Whale Rock?”

  “That was them. Do you remember anything unusual that night, anything they may have done or said?”

  “I was concentrating on my art.” He rubbed his chin. “But now that you mention it, they had this rope they were playing around with.”

  I must have smiled, for Skunk asked, “That mean something to you?”

  “More like satisfies a hunch.” Despite no support from Brooks or Daniel, I was still convinced that the knotted rope was key to figuring out what had happened to my missing friends.

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight when I powered off my laptop just as Whistler lifted his head and uttered a low growl. Rubbing my tired eyes, I flipped on the porch light and saw those telltale Uggs, like the Wicked Witch of the East’s ruby slippers sticking out from Dorothy’s fallen house. Only a house hadn’t landed on Cindy: she’d somehow landed on mine.

  “Come on in.” I swung the door wide open, resisting the urge to ask how she got here and why she hadn’t knocked.

  She slunk in like a naughty child preparing for a reprimand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s zactly what I’m here to find out. I s’pose you’re gonna tell me what awful trouble I’m in, with you bein’ such good pals with the cops and all.”

  “I’m actually on your side, Cindy. I’d like to try and help you out of whatever mess you’ve unwittingly gotten yourself into.”

  She glared at me under a furrowed brow. “What mess?”

  “I believe you’re in possession of a coin that once belonged to Ashley and Vince.”

  “They gave it to me.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “You can’t prove otherwise.”

  “I believe you.” I took a seat at the table and motioned for her to sit as well.

  “You do?” She looked at me sideways.

  “Yes, but I’m probably the only person who does. So that’s why you’re in a bit of a pickle right now.”

  “Damn that gold trader. I don’t know why he just wouldn’t buy it without askin’ all those stupid questions.”

  “It’s his business to be cautious. But that’s water under the bridge at this point. Ashley and Vince are good kids, but I’d bet they didn’t give that coin to you out of the kindness of their hearts. I’m prepared to help you, but you have to tell me what you did in exchange for it.”

  “I knowed there’d be a hitch.” Her arms remained stubbornly crossed. “I gave my word I wouldn’t say nuthin’.”

  “But circumstances have changed. You don’t have a job anymore. No income. No prospects. You’re living God knows where. And you can’t sell the coin. I’d say you’ve run out of options.”

  Cindy’s protruding lower lip caused the loose skin around her chin to pucker.

  “Look, I’m impressed you want to do the honorable thing here, but considering your predicament, you might want to rethink your loyalties.”

  Cindy leaned her elbows onto the table, cupping her face in her palms, staring at me for quite some time before asking, “What’s in it for me?”

  We were making progress. “I’ll vouch for you with the police.”

  “Hah! A lot of good that’ll do me.” Her stomach rumbled loudly, and then she stifled a belch. “Scuse me.”

  “I feel like a midnight snack.” I went to the refrigerator and took out a block of cheese and some fruit, then grabbed a baguette from the bread box. “How about you? Care for anything?”

  “Well. If you’re going to go to the trouble, I wouldn’t mind a lil sumpthin-sumpthin.”

  There was a tug at my conscience as I watched her scarf down the food, half-starved. She wasn’t a bad sort, just an unfortunate soul. I hated to be forced into manipulating her, but I needed answers.

  “Cindy, it’s time for you to level with me,” I said after she stuffed the last slice of the loaf into her mouth.

  She swallowed and then whined, “But I promised.”

  “Okay. So I guess that’s that.” I leaned back in my chair. “What are your plans now?”

  She looked at me suspiciously. “You givin’ up? Just like that?”

  I lifted my hands in defeat, hoping reverse psychology would be effective. “I can’t force you to help me.”

  “Help you?” She sniffed. “I thought you was offerin’ to help me.”

  “Same thing. I’m in a position to help you. But I need your help too. Have you heard the expression: If you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours?”

  She puzzled on this a moment, then shook her head. “Yeah, but my back don’t need scratchin’.”

  Maybe not, but I was thinking her palm was itching pretty badly right now.

  “All you have to do is tell me what they paid you to do.”

  “And who will you tell?”

  “Maybe nobody. It depends on what the answer is. But I promise, no matter what, I will keep you out of it. Nobody will ever know you were involved in any way.”

  She was picking up crumbs with her fingertip and licking them off. When there wasn’t a speck of food left on the plate, she asked, “You don’t happen to have any cookies?”

  “I might.” All I had were Oreos, but I doubted she would care.

  She smacked her lips.

  “I’ll check, but if I do, will you give me some information in return?” I stared at her, not moving.

  “Oh, ah-right.” She chewed her fingernail as a stall tactic, but when I didn’t move to get the cookies, she said, “I just mailed a letter.”

  “That’s all?” I held up my end of the bargain and retrieved a package of Double-Stuffs from the pantry.

  Cindy ripped into the package as if she’d not just polished off a wedge of brie, a pear, two apples, and a loaf of bread.

  “Well, it wasn’t as if I just moseyed into the Whale Rock Post Office and handed it over to ol’ Tommy. Ya see, I had special instructives.”

  “What kind of …? What did they have you do?”

  “I had to borrow my friend Buddy’s taxi cab,” she said, then pulled an Oreo apart and began scraping the filling with her teeth. “To take it to an out-of-state post office.”

  “Okay, so where out of state?” The questioning was becoming as tedious as the answers were unenlightening.

  “New York.”

  “You drove all the way to New York to mail a letter for them?” This was throwing me. I could see Rhode Island or New Hampshire if they didn’t want to reveal a Massachusetts postmark. But why New York?

  She must have predicted the next question because she added, “Albany.”

  Albany? The guest who checked in at Hilliard House was from Albany. I took a moment to digest this before asking the next question. “Do you remember who it was addressed to?”

  “Nah.” She looked down at the table.

  “Where it was going?”

  She pressed her lips tightly together and still wouldn’t look at me.

  “Cin-dy.”

  Unexpectedly, she started to cry. “I can’t even sell the damn coin. And I’ve gotta give Buddy his share or he’s gonna turn me in to the cops.”

  I doubted Buddy would do any such thing. The creep was probably bullying her with empty threats. “If I buy the coin from you, will you tell me the rest?”

  She wiped the wetness from her face, leaving gray smudges on her cheeks. She had the resigned look of someone ready to give in. However, at that precise moment Whistler rose from his position at my feet and nudged Cindy’s hand. She smoothed back the dog’s fur, then shook her head. “I made a promise to those kids.”

  We were at a stalemate, and in my frustration I considered snatching back the package of cookies. Then I remembered a ploy Zoe often used on me to pry my sealed lips open.

  “What if I guess? That’s not the same as telling.”

  The tightness in Cindy’s mouth softened, and her eyebrows lifted slightly. I was betting her silence would be easier to break than min
e had been as a child.

  “Just give me one guess. If I don’t get it right, we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

  “Ah-right. Take a stab.” She sat upright with a sense of bravado.

  I inhaled deeply, wishing I’d thought to ask for two guesses. “Was it going to Montana? A town called Bozeman?”

  Her mouth dropped open, which was all I needed for an answer.

  “A Mister Welkman?”

  Cindy slapped the table smartly. “If you already knowed, why’d you have to hassle me?”

  “I didn’t know for sure. It was a gut feeling, and the only way I could be certain was if you helped me.” I reached across the table and clutched her hand. “Thank you.”

  I left her and went to the den, only to find the laptop I’d turned off less than thirty minutes ago had powered up with that same photo of Ashley and Vince looking back at me.

  “Okay, Percy,” I said. “But first let me tend to this.”

  “Who you talkin’ to?” Cindy had followed me and was looking about the room suspiciously.

  “Myself.”

  I took my checkbook from the top drawer of the antique rolltop desk. Lucky for me I had deposited a payment from Lu yesterday. I handed Cindy the check and asked, “Do you have the coin now?”

  When she saw the amount, her eyes widened even more. Then she blinked twice.

  “It’s not a mistake. I’ll call the bank tomorrow. You won’t have any trouble cashing it.”

  She took off one of her Uggs and worked at loosening something from the toe. “Here ya are. I guess you bought yourself a weird-lookin’ quarter.”

  “Thank you.” The gold was smooth, worn with age, but the image of the phoenix was well preserved.

  “I feel like a turncoat.” However, she was still gazing at the check with relief.

  “What you did for them may very well have saved their lives. And by telling me—”

  She waved a finger at me. “I din’t tell you nuthin’.”

  “Fine, but it will help me find out if the man you sent the letter to is one of the good guys or a villain.”

  “What if he’s the … not good one?”

  It was a perfectly legitimate question.

  “That’s not for you to worry about.”

  Cindy yawned hugely. I was about to offer her a ride until I looked at the clock.

  “It’s late. Why don’t you stay here tonight? I’ll drive you back to Orleans in the morning.”

  She became timid all of a sudden. “Nah. I don’t have no PJs or nuthin’ with me.”

  “No worries. I’ve got a spare.” I motioned her to follow, pretending not to notice as she pocketed a stack of Oreos. I’d tend to the crumbs in the bed tomorrow.

  “By the way, why did you leave the Hilliard House?” I asked while turning down the bed in the room Ashley and Vince had used during their stay.

  “When the kids went missin’, I figgered the letter I delivered had sumpthin’ to do with it.” She shook her head in annoyance. “That Evelyn has a nose, and it wouldn’t have been long before she sniffed me out.” Cindy’s street smarts were well honed for survival.

  “You’re right, but she also has a good heart.”

  Cindy shrugged. “I s’pose.”

  “You have your own bathroom if you’d like to shower.” I handed her a towel and a toothbrush, hoping she’d take the hint.

  “I reckon I’ll sleep ah-right tonight. No money worries for a good long while.” She waved the check at me, then tucked it up into the toe of her Ugg. She turned shy again and ducked her head. “I owe you, Cassie.”

  “Let’s call it even. See you in the morning.”

  When I awoke early the next morning, my houseguest was gone. The bed was neatly made, with little trace she’d been there save for the scrawled note left on the table: Don’t forget to call the bank.

  I wondered where Cindy would land after Whale Rock, somewhat sad at the thought I’d likely never see her again.

  29

  Six weeks following the disappearance

  I tried to remain calm as I waited for the black Lincoln to round the corner. But with each minute, my anxiety ratcheted up proportionally. What if I was wrong? What if my plan backfired? What if Aaron and Michael were dangerous? What if they didn’t show? All the what ifs were starting to outnumber the established facts. I paced uncertainly, stewing over the biggest question: What if I’d made the situation worse for Ashley and Vince?

  I did a visual sweep of the kitchen. The knotted rope was on the kitchen island, strategically positioned to peek out from under some newspapers near the sugar and creamer. It would be easily noticed by Michael when I asked him to bring the coffee service into the living room. My gut was telling me that Aaron and Michael’s business in Boston had involved a visit with the FBI. And if I was right, they’d be looking for this rope.

  My plan was to bring Whistler in after Aaron was settled in his chair by the fireplace. The dog had reacted unusually calmly during their first meeting, and though I suspected why, I wanted to be certain. And it might offer a bit of leverage if needed.

  I was rehearsing my lines when the vehicle finally came into view. I walked out through the front door to welcome them, pulling my sweater tighter against the stiff cool breeze left over from last night’s storm.

  “I have a fire burning. Let’s get out of this chilly air.”

  Once Aaron was seated, I asked Michael, “Would you mind helping with the coffee?”

  He bowed slightly and followed me.

  “I trust you’ve finished your business in Boston?” I pulled pastries from a box.

  “Everything came to a reasonably satisfactory conclusion.”

  I nodded to a tray. “Can you put the sugar and creamer there beside the cups and bring it all to the living room?” I intentionally went ahead, leaving him in the kitchen.

  “I hope you like cheese Danish,” I said to Aaron, setting the platter on the coffee table in front of him.

  He inhaled. “They smell delightful. But you needn’t have gone to any trouble.”

  “We have an excellent bakery in town.”

  A moment later, Michael appeared with the tray.

  I tapped my chin. “Oh goodness, I forgot the coffee.” I returned to the kitchen and collected the carafe, feeling a surge in confidence when I observed the rope was missing.

  “Do you mind pouring?” I asked, handing the carafe to Michael. “I have one more item to retrieve.”

  I opened the door to the back stairway where I knew Whistler would be eagerly waiting. He stayed at my heels until we reached the living room and saw Aaron. The dog’s ears went flat, and he let out a whimper before trotting over to the man’s feet where he folded himself into a down position.

  “Ah, my friend.” He patted Whistler’s head. “My memory isn’t what it used to be. What’s this guy’s name?”

  I didn’t answer. Instead I called out a command to the dog. “Up.”

  Whistler rolled onto his back in a submissive position.

  “Go,” I commanded, and the dog jumped up and ran from the room.

  Aaron had subtly issued those directives to Whistler during his first visit. At the time, I’d been too nervous to recognize them as such, but it continued to bother me how the dog’s reaction to Aaron had been so obviously different from that to anyone else he’d come across.

  “I believe you and Whistler met long before your last visit to Whale Rock.”

  I caught Michael’s uncomfortable glance at Aaron, who was now sitting with his hands folded together, head slightly bowed. A prisoner awaiting his sentence.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  What else might he be guilty of?

  “Was he your guide dog at one time?”

  “You’re quite the clever girl, Cassie.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. I’d been more formal when we first met and used my professional name to introduce myself. Cassandra Mitchell was how I signed my
paintings. He’d been talking with someone who knew me more familiarly, someone who called me Cassie, and I was growing sickly assured of who the person was.

  “So it was you who named him Whistler? Because—and I hope I don’t misquote you—‘Whistler Mountain is one of the most beautiful places on the planet.’ ”

  Aaron nodded gravely.

  “What I’m not clear on though, is how Vince Jacobson came to have your dog.”

  Michael fidgeted uncomfortably. I addressed my next question to him. “Why did you take the rope?”

  He closed his eyes and laid his head on the back of the wingchair.

  Aaron leaned forward and spoke in a calm but solemn tone. “I’d really hoped not to overly involve you in a sensitive matter, a matter that is personal and serious. I’d like to give you the opportunity now to let us walk away with the rope, no questions asked.”

  “And the paintings?”

  “The offer remains. And I urge you to take it.”

  “Why buy them all when the portraits of Ashley and Vince Jacobson—even though those aren’t their real names—are what you’re really interested in, right?”

  Neither of them responded.

  “I’m guessing you’re trying to acquire all evidence they were here, which was fairly easy because they’d left few telltale signs. However, my exhibit featuring their portraits was an inconvenient complication.”

  Aaron nodded.

  “How do you know the rope is significant?” I wanted my suspicions confirmed.

  “I guarantee you will find no satisfaction in knowing,” Aaron said with an air of finality.

  “And I can guarantee there will be no satisfaction derived from the rope Michael took from the kitchen.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because it’s not the rope you’re looking for.”

  Michael pointed a warning finger at me. “You are playing a dangerous game, Ms. Mitchell.”

  The mention of danger made me squirm, but I stood my ground. “This is not a game to me. Two of my friends disappeared under a cloud of mystery, and you know something about it.”

  “Let’s be reasonable,” Aaron began his own gentler plea. “I’ve agreed to pay a substantial fee for your paintings. I’ll sweeten the deal by offering the same amount for just the portraits, and you’re free to sell the others. You stand to do quite well from my proposition.”