“How old?”
“Twelve.”
“He must be confused. And her parents?”
“I’ve kept them intentionally in the dark for their own protection, especially in light of recent events and the uncertainty of who can be trusted.”
To whom specifically was Aaron referring?
“Do you think Henry Beamer knew about any of this?”
“How can we know until we talk with my grandson?”
“I’m fairly certain Beamer came to Whale Rock.”
“Henry Beamer did?” Aaron’s pallor intensified.
“Yes.” It was unnerving to think this man, whom Ashley and Vince didn’t trust, could’ve been following them.
“We don’t know the depth or validity of their concerns. Perhaps Henry Beamer showed up here because he took his job of protecting them seriously, and nothing more,” Michael suggested.
“Let us hope.”
“But this”—Michael pointed to the grave—“is a dead end.” He then took Aaron’s arm and said, “Time to move on.”
The older man patted the hand of the younger and, with fatigue christening every word, said, “We must do as they have done.”
We walked back toward the house at the tempo of a dirge. The blissfully ignorant Whistler ran playfully ahead of us, offering an opening to break the spell.
“How did Vince end up with Whistler? I’m sorry—I mean Jason.”
“I’d actually prefer if you’d continue to think of them as Vince and Ashley, for obvious reasons.”
“Of course,” I agreed, though I still lacked specific details.
“Whistler is terrified of flying. And since I travel so much,” he turned his palms upward, “he needed a new home. Luckily, my grandson already adored Whistler.”
“I believe it was a mutual love.” I was glad for my sunglasses to mask the threatening tears. I’d fallen hard for this black beauty who had once frightened me. “So, Whistler will go with you today?”
“I hate to impose on you any further.”
“He was never an imposition. I’ll hate to see him go.”
“And Whistler would hate to leave.” Michael stretched out his arms. “All this open space.”
“Michael and I do have an overseas trip to arrange.”
Overseas? It suddenly clicked for me that the code referred to Athens, Greece—not Athens, Georgia—which made sense, since Vince’s father was Greek and there’d likely be family there, offering a safe haven. It likely also explained how they came to have the valuable Greek coins.
“I’ll go out on a limb and make a guess—Greece?”
There was a twinkle in those sightless eyes, but all Aaron said was, “What I’m trying to ask, rather ineloquently it would appear, is could Whistler stay here with you?”
I could hardly believe what he was offering.
“It would be a gift.” I was thrilled at the prospect of keeping him.
“No greater than the gift you’ve given me.” He raised the knotted rope he’d been clutching like a lifeline to his grandson.
We had arrived at the SUV, and Aaron bent down to caress Whistler’s head, choking out the words, “So long, my old friend.”
“He will always be your dog. Yours and Vince’s. Think of me as his caretaker until you return.”
“You are a gracious woman. I understand how my grandson and his wife would have been drawn to you.” He gave the dog one more head rub. “Maybe you could take some of your newly earned money and buy him a collar. The tracking device will be easy enough to change.”
I examined the frayed band around Whistler’s neck. “Aaron’s right. Looks like you need a new outfit, bud.”
“By the way, the command is hup, not up.” Aaron offered a rare smile. “Humor an old man and accept some unsolicited advice?”
“I’m listening.”
“Don’t be too hard on Agent Benjamin. He’d been tossed into a rather thorny bush.” He squeezed my fingers once, then let go and climbed up into the car.
I said nothing, no longer having the energy to wheedle further information from the man.
Michael closed the door and turned to me. “Mr. Benjamin threw himself on his own sword.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s all I can say.” He offered a dismissive wave. “Thank you for allowing us to stir up your life a bit. And my apologies for those times when we were, for lack of a better word, pushy.”
“Oh, I’d say ‘pushy’ is a most fitting word.”
Michael blushed sheepishly and walked to the other side of the car and climbed in.
I knocked on the passenger window for Aaron to open again. “Something else, Ms. Mitchell?”
“Will you deliver a message for me?”
He nodded.
“Tell them when their phoenix rises again, they’ll always have a home here at Battersea Bluffs.”
He looked bemused.
“They’ll understand.” I watched the SUV round the bend of the drive while patting Whistler’s head.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, buddy.” The dog obediently followed me as I headed toward the barn. “Shall we go see what surprise Vince and Ashley left for us?”
30
The next day …
I’d forced myself to wait a cautious thirty minutes after Aaron and Michael departed before returning to my family’s burial grounds, this time with my own spade in hand. After a close check to ensure nobody was watching, I’d heaved aside Robert Toomey’s stone and dug until I uncovered a well-taped plastic bag. I took extra care in replacing the upended earth and marker, so as not to leave any signs the grave had been disturbed.
I’d come so close to missing the significance of those last three knots on the rope. Eye splice/rapala knot/thief knot. Look at Robert Toomey.
I would have continued to assume whatever they’d hidden under the Pooh bear statue had been dug up and taken away, just as Aaron and Michael believed, had it not been for the persistent appearance of the cemetery photo on my laptop screen. When I’d snapped Ashley and Vince, I hadn’t realized they’d been standing beside Robert Toomey’s grave. I would make the photograph my screensaver as a constant reminder to pay closer attention to what my guardian spirits were telling me.
Back at the house, I performed a mating dance of sorts with the package, testing its heft and caressing it in an attempt to determine the contents. I sniffed at it, but the clinging scent of the earth masked any other telltale odors. I let it sit for an hour on the credenza of the library while I readied myself to discover what mystery my friends had left in my charge. Extra logs were tossed onto the fire, and I poured a glass of pinot noir to calm my nerves. At last, there was nothing to be done but to open it. Inside was a thick sealed envelope, and taped to the outside was a letter-sized envelope with these instructions: Read first.
The letter offered a lot to digest, and I’d needed a day alone with the package before making the call. Barking announced my visitor’s arrival, and I peeked out the kitchen window as Brooks emerged from his WRPD cruiser. Whistler presented his favorite chew toy for a game of fetch. For several moments, I watched the repetitive tossing and retrieving, assuming it was a stall tactic. Although I had put the awkward night of my exhibit behind me, I wasn’t sure where Brooks stood on the matter. I hoped enough time had passed to wash away the sting of rejection.
After a dozen throws, I swung the door open and called out, “Give the poor dog a break.”
Whistler ran into the house, panting wildly, and flopped down under the old oak table. Brooks followed, taking a good long time wiping his shoes on the porch mat before stepping into the warm and cozy kitchen.
“Smells good.”
“Gingerbread. Fresh from the oven.” This time I actually was baking. Percy and Celeste had been oddly quiet of late. Perhaps they were as tired as I was.
“Sharing?”
“Of course.” I’d had enough caffeine for the day and by the jittery bearing of my f
riend, so had he. I filled the teakettle and lit the burner, then cut a slab of gingerbread.
“Here you go.” I set it before him and took a seat across the table.
“Mmm.” He savored the first taste. “Fiona’s recipe?”
“Yep.” It was Celeste’s originally, but my Granny Fi had somehow tracked down a copy.
“How’s the new darling of the Whale Rock art scene?” he asked between bites. “I hear the exhibit saved The Bluffs.”
“I was just lucky.” Lucky that Aaron Welkman showed up on the scene.
“Not true.” He pointed his fork at me and spoke through the gingerbread. “You have talent.”
“At least I’ve given everyone something else to talk about besides my failed marriage and my”—what to call it? Fiona would say, “Call a spade a spade.”—“my affair with Billy Hughes.”
“Most people knew you and Billy were an item back in high school. Nobody blamed you for falling back with him, especially after seeing how Ethan took advantage of you.”
“Has Billy taken any heat?”
“Not really. He’s a bit of a rogue, but he’s also a charmer. Anyone who did know about it forgave you both.”
I was glad Billy’d been given a pass by the people of Whale Rock.
“Folks were probably just glad to have Ethan out of here. He wasn’t good for you, and he wasn’t good for The Rock either.”
The kettle sounded, and I tended to the tea, thinking how blind I’d been.
“Who else?”
His eyes tightened. “Who else, what?”
“Who else did Ethan borrow from?”
“Not going there.” He jabbed the fork in the air again. “And neither should you.”
“I’d like to make things right with anyone who helped Ethan because of me.”
“No need. They wouldn’t expect you to pay back his debts. Besides, they’d have meant it to be a gift.” The way he said it made me think he’d been one of Ethan’s suckers. My heart warmed, but my pulse raced to think Ethan would have used a good family friend to further his own pursuits.
I’d drop it, for now. But if I was clever enough, I could probably wheedle it out of someone, maybe Evelyn. Heck, she and George were probably contributors to the Ethan Fund themselves.
I brought two steeping mugs to the table. “Did you ever tell Zoe about Billy?”
“Me? Why would I?”
I shrugged.
“I wouldn’t doubt she knows. Your sister has her informants.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” I leaned my elbows onto the table. “It’s just that she never said anything about it, and it’s not like her to keep her nose out of my business, especially when it gets messy.”
“I can’t speak for her, but I would imagine she’d have picked Billy over Ethan any day.” He stirred sugar into his tea, then took a test sip before adding more. “And don’t be too hard on your ol’ pal Brit. Who could have predicted she’d become a loose-lipped Lucy after a few pops?”
“Certainly not the honorable Brooks Kincaid.”
He gave me a stern look. “She was a consenting adult.”
“I meant it as a compliment. You always do the right thing.”
He looked at me skeptically.
“Not always.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Agent Benjamin paid a visit to the station yesterday.”
A peculiar feeling came over me to hear Daniel had been in town.
Brooks gave me a sidelong glance. “You know he’s retiring?”
“So soon?” He wasn’t due to retire for another year. I brooded over whether this was a consequence of his involvement with me during the investigation. Had this been what Michael Bernard was referring to when he said Daniel fell on his own sword?
“Did you hear me?” Brooks interrupted my musings.
“Sorry, what?”
“I was telling you he came to give me a wrap-up on the case.”
“So you know why it was closed.”
“Officially, yes.”
“And what do you know unofficially?”
“I wouldn’t be able to share that now, would I?”
“You’re evil.”
He let loose that famous chuckle, making me feel safe again in our friendship.
“However.” He pulled three evidence bags from his coat pocket and picked up one with the remnants of a food wrapper. “I took this from the campsite in the woods the day you and I hiked out there. We’ve since determined it’s from Liam’s Clam Shack.”
“At least the mystery camper had good taste.”
“Also taken from the site.” The second bag he waved before me contained some thick black threads. “This got lost in the shuffle when the case was hijacked by the FBI. When I got involved again, I sent it out to a lab for analysis. They’re nylon strands, consistent with material used to make dog collars.”
He definitely had my attention now. At Aaron’s urging, I’d purchased a new collar for Whistler but hadn’t yet tossed the old one. I retrieved it from the broom closet and laid it on the table.
“Think it’s a match?” I asked.
“Undoubtedly. The single hair attached to the strands was ID’d as canine. And now for the pièce de résistance.” He produced one last bag that held a black rubber tip. “I went back to the site after you told me about that guy from Albany.”
It still bothered me nobody had been able to track down the mysterious Henry Beamer. Brooks suspected he was using an alias, as people in that line of work often do.
“It was before we had confirmation about the dog collar strands, and I wanted to be certain there wasn’t anyone still hanging around out there.”
I inclined my head. “Aw shucks, you were worried about me?”
“Always.” He offered a sweet, sad smile. “Do you know what it is?”
I fingered it, fairly certain, but didn’t wanted to spoil it for him. I shook my head.
“It’s the cap off the air tube of a bike tire. Ashley’s bike was missing a cap, and this”—he flicked the evidence bag—“is a match.”
“So it was the Jacobsons who were camping in the woods between checking out of Hilliard House and before moving in with me?” I braced myself for the I told you so, and was grateful it didn’t come.
“That’s what it looks like.”
“They had good reason, Chuckles.”
He raised his eyebrows. “If you say so, but they still shouldn’t have lied to you.”
I wouldn’t argue the point, but in fairness, they hadn’t actually lied; they’d merely withheld the truth.
Brooks went on to say, “Agent Benjamin also solved the mystery of the pawnshop ring.”
I had never mentioned my suspicions about Fiona’s ring to anyone and was relieved that I’d never had to explain where it had been.
“How?”
“He finally tracked down the summer employee from Sinclair House. She described it as a gold signet ring with an unusual T on it and a black onyx stone.”
“Temple?”
“Most likely.”
I contemplated their reason for pawning it and why the ring and not another of the Greek coins.
“The woman told Agent Benjamin someone else came back to reclaim it.” Brooks’s ears were burning red and it took some coaxing to get him to share.
“Come on, Chuckles. Who would I tell?”
“It was Teddy Howell.” My friend was clearly exasperated. “And don’t ask me how he managed to get it back without the receipt.”
“Why would he reclaim it?”
“He says he found out Vince and Ashley had pawned the ring to pay him for a favor, so he decided to get it back for them.” He continued to fidget.
“What favor, Brooks?”
He sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. “For helping them get off the Cape.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised by this revelation. For some time, there’d been a nagging whisper in the back of my mind. And it explained why Teddy had been
reluctant to divulge the truth about his friendship with Vince and Ashley.
“Agent Benjamin told you this?”
“No! And he’s not going to find out about it either.” He narrowed his eyes. “Right?”
“Not from me.” I held up my arms in surrender. I leaned forward. “Please tell me they didn’t steal Johnny Hotchkiss’s Mercury?”
“No, but if he had, my hands would have been tied, and Teddy would’ve been in big trouble with the FBI.” He finished off his gingerbread. “They sailed out on Teddy’s grandfather’s sailboat.”
It seemed fitting my friends had escaped by sea, though I was left wondering how Brooks became privy to all the details of their escape. I was itching to know more but for now wouldn’t push it.
“How much trouble is Teddy in?”
“Let’s put it this way: he’s used up his three strikes. Sometimes that kid crosses into dubious territory.” Brooks shook his head.
“I’d want someone like Teddy on my side.”
“Said the other person I know who’s likely to bend the law.” Brooks frowned. “Getting through to him can be like cracking a code.” He gave me a hard, appraising look. “I guess you’d know a thing or two about that.”
“Perhaps I would. Not bad for a lowly high school graduate.” I tried not to look smug.
“I have a hypothetical question.” I was finally getting to the reason for asking Brooks to come out to The Bluffs.
“Shoot.” He was already digging into his third piece of gingerbread.
“Let’s say a young couple is on the run, and they disappear without any explanation.”
“I’ve heard this story before.” He grinned.
“Not this part. In my story, the young couple left behind some information that could possibly disclose some details.”
“I’m interested.” He licked his lower lip and leaned forward.
“I thought you might be.” It was fun to dangle the carrot. “The question is, would you turn this hypothetical information over to the FBI?”
“Considering recent dealings?” He made a disgusted face. “Not going to happen until I know what I’m dealing with.”
House of Ashes Page 32