by Mary Vee
“I assumed you wanted them done as early as the women could speak with you. The first is at ten. I’ll initiate the call then have them transferred to you.”
“Very good. Today, I want you to extend the search for Mrs. Duvet to bus, train, and plane. See if she purchased a ticket. Use your contacts to get any information you can’t get on your own. Check December 10 through today.”
“Today?”
“Anything is possible. We can’t miss even the least scenario. Check national and international flights.”
“Yes, Mr. Carhill.”
“I’ll be out the entire day but available by phone.”
“Yes, Mr. Carhill. Have a nice day.”
He disconnected the call then checked his contacts for Sylvia’s home number and dialed.
“Duvet residence. May I help you?”
“Yes, this is Branson Carhill calling for Jeanie Holloway.”
“She hasn’t arrived yet. Shall I have her return your call at this number?”
“Yes. Thank you.” He pressed end.
Typically, Branson knew one should call before visiting a person’s home. This time he wouldn’t. If Mrs. Duvet was at Elizabeth’s estate and knew he was planning a visit today, she might run again. He wouldn’t let that happen. The Alexander’s would simply have to be displeased with his lack of propriety when he appeared on their stoop unannounced.
The hour before his rental car arrived slipped by quickly. Branson devoured a big breakfast thinking it’d be his only meal today. He dressed in calling attire and packed a case with the letters, the planner, and the yearbook. He slipped his shoes on as a knock on the door sounded.
“Your vehicle is ready, Mr. Carhill.”
Branson opened the door. “Thank you.” He accepted the keys and gave the driver a tip, locked the front door then walked to the rental, pleased to see a Mustang. Mrs. Spinnaker earned flowers for arranging this one. A fun ride to endure congested traffic. He sat inside the car and familiarized himself with the features then started the engine and engaged the GPS. The audio voice confirmed the Manhattan address followed by the first direction. Drive time expected to be just shy of four hours.
Once on the expressway, he called the flower shop in his contact list and had a holiday floral arrangement sent to Mrs. Spinnaker.
* * *
One-minute past ten o’clock, his phone rang. He’d connected it into the car system for hands-free usage. “You’re right on time, Mrs. Spinnaker. Remind me whom I’m speaking to first.”
“I have Laurel Grimaldi from Honolulu on the line.”
He heard a click then, “Hello?”
“Ms. Grimaldi, this is Branson Carhill calling on behalf of Sylvia Duvet’s daughter. You live in Honolulu, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Carhill. How can I be of service?”
“I apologize for calling at 4 a.m.”
“It’s the hour most calls from the east coast come to my home. Don’t worry. I can give you a few minutes.”
“Thank you. Are you aware that Sylvia Duvet is missing?”
“She’s what? That’s terrible. No. I hadn’t heard the news.”
Branson struggled to detect sincere sorrow in her voice. It could be difficult to determine over the phone. “When did you see or speak with her last?”
“Let me see. I believe she wrote a month ago. I’m sure I owe her a letter. I feel awful about that. Are you quite sure she’s missing? Maybe she had an unexpected engagement.”
“Neither her staff nor her daughter knows where she is. Did she happen to mention wanting to take a vacation around this time of year?”
“No. We girls from the French Club talk about taking trips all the time. Mostly they’re dreams. We have many obligations that are difficult to break. Sometimes I think I have more appointments than the others since the weather is nicer most of the year in Honolulu.” She sighed. “It would be nice to get together with the girls again.”
“When was the last time the five of you met?”
“I think it was three years ago. Yes. We met at Elizabeth’s home because her husband was gone on a business trip.” She laughed. “We went shopping and stayed up late talking and laughing. It was such a wonderful time.”
“And the five of you haven’t met since?”
“No.”
“Did maybe two or three get together? Perhaps they were the only ones who were available?”
“You must be joking. If all five of us can’t get together then none of us do.”
“Cinq Amis.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Yes, Cinq Amis. How did you know?”
“You’re a French Club and are five friends. Cinq Amis.”
The suspicion in her voice indicated those words held more meaning to the ladies than he realized.
“Of course. So, you can speak French, Mr. Carhill?”
“I can speak a few words. Let’s get back to Mrs. Duvet. Is there anything you recall that would help me locate her? Before you answer, I should let you know I maintain a strict work policy and have installed the best firewalls on all computers. Information obtained by my office never reaches any media source. Whatever you tell me will be kept in confidence and used only to find Mrs. Duvet and ensure she is well.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Carhill. I’ve already told you everything I know. We talked about getting together, but we say that a lot and rarely find the time to do so.” She paused. “Oh, wait. I did speak with Sylvia on the phone this week. She mentioned wanting to take a few days to shop for a dress in New York.”
“On her own?”
“She didn’t say. You might want to check with her staff. Could you hold just a moment.” Her voice continued, muffled in the background, before returning to their conversation. “I’m sorry. I must excuse myself. Do have Sylvia call me when you find her. Good morning, Mr. Carhill.”
“Good Morning, Ms. Grimaldi. Please call my office if you think of anything else.”
“I’ll be happy to do that.” The call ended.
The chill in Laurel Grimaldi’s voice clearly indicated she wouldn’t call him. That didn’t mean she didn’t plan to make other calls right away. What were these women hiding?
Besides Mrs. Duvet.
His phone rang a second time. “Thank you, Mrs. Spinnaker. Who am I speaking with next?”
“Constance Weise in San Francisco. I’ll connect you.” The phone clicked.
“Hello? This is Constance.”
He hadn’t expected Mrs. Weise to speak so quickly. “Good morning, Ms. Weise, this is Branson Carhill calling on behalf of Sylvia Duvet’s daughter. I’m sorry for ringing at this early hour.”
“Seven isn’t early in my house. How may I help you?”
“I have been retained to find Mrs. Duvet. Are you aware that she is missing?”
“Sylvia? Not at all. When did this happen? Oh, dear. I hope there isn’t a problem with her health.” Concern coated her words.
Perhaps she would tell him more than Ms. Grimaldi. “Do you know where she might be?”
“I. I don’t know. I’m especially concerned that you’ve been hired.” Oddly, her tone resonated offended.
“What do you mean?”
She cleared her throat. “Women like Sylvia and myself have duties. Our list of meetings and the management of our households—the servants and—you see, Mr. Carhill, running a large household isn’t as easy as it seems. We can’t afford gossip to ruin our reputation.”
He could have given a consoling comment here, but that usually gave a female permission to respond emotionally, and he didn’t have time for that. Instead, he waited for her to say more.
“Please forgive the accusation.” She inhaled deeply. “I suppose I need another cup of coffee.”
“Did you communicate with Mrs. Duvet recently?”
“Yes, I did. I suggested she get a dog to help with her loneliness. Ever since her husband passed away, she’s been terribly distraught living in that huge house by herself. I offered to fl
y there and spend a day helping her shop for the perfect pet. She said something about liking the idea and that a drive to New York City would work. The poor thing.
“There are so many events she simply can’t attend without an escort. Charles, her husband, God rest his soul, was as lively at parties as Sylvia. Witty and funny. Handsome but devoted to his wife.
“Poor thing, she has missed out on some of the most wonderful parties there in Boston. I suggested more than once that she go ahead and attend alone. Who knows? Maybe she might find a handsome, eligible man. Sadly, she refuses to hear of it. I don’t blame her. Propriety and all. Oh, I do hate the charade we have to put on at times. Is there anything else, Mr. Carhill?”
“Just a moment.” A thick traffic pocket forced him to slam on his brakes. He swerved into the lane to the right and resumed speed. “Thank you for waiting. Do you know if Mrs. Duvet intended to take a holiday to celebrate Christmas somewhere special?”
“Without a husband or escort?” She laughed. “I imagine she’d reserve vacation time for a get together with us. You know there are five of us all together, and we’re quite close.”
“Yes. So I’ve heard. That is why I called you.”
“You’ve contacted the others?” Her tone changed to one of extreme suspicion.
“Not yet.” Technically he hadn’t called all the others.
“Well, then.” Her voice sparked with cheer. “You’re sure to discover something important from one of our other friends. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Carhill, I have duties. Do have Sylvia call when you find her. Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
The call ended.
As he expected, fifteen minutes was all these women would speak with him. How odd that neither Laurel nor Constance seemed concerned about Sylvia’s welfare. Why was that?
His phone rang a third time. “Yes, Mrs. Spinnaker? Who is next?”
“Sorry, Mr. Carhill, this is Jeanie Holloway.”
“Good morning, Ms. Holloway. Were you able to find anything?”
“Actually, we did. The entire staff took a break from their daily chores to search the trash and the house for Mrs. Duvet’s night clothing.”
“And?”
“We found them hidden in a back corner of her closet. The fabric was folded neatly and placed on top of her slippers. It was an odd place for them. Still they’ve been found.”
He’d stood in that closet. So distracted from searching for those letters that he missed this important clue. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. “With your find, we have confirmation that she isn’t roaming aimlessly on the city streets. Her daughter should be happy to hear this news. Thank you.”
“I like that we eliminated one possibility.”
“Did you have a chance to check the safe for her passport?”
“I did and relocked the safe after finding it. Since she didn’t leave the country, do you think she went on a trip somewhere in the States? Her suitcase is still here, and Tanner checked the security tapes. There is no sign of her leaving the estate.”
“This may seem like a ridiculous question, but is there a secret way out of the house? A cellar with an exit out the back or side?”
“No. There isn’t.” She paused. “None that I know of anyway. I can’t figure out how or when she left. You don’t suppose she was kidnapped?”
“And leave her night clothes folded neatly? A kidnapper wouldn’t give her time for that. The information indicates Mrs. Duvet willingly left the estate.”
Jeanie didn’t speak for a long moment. “But why? Why would she do that and not tell me? She tells me everything.” She spoke with such sadness weighing her voice. “I thought—”
“It’s a question worth investigation.”
“I appreciate your help, Mr. Carhill. The entire staff is grateful for all you’re doing to bring her home.”
“My pleasure, ma’am. Did you happen to find her coat?”
“We searched and noted one of her winter coats missing. So yes, she must have taken one. Thank you for asking, Mr. Carhill. At least we know she is warm.”
Interesting. Mrs. Duvet left home without telling her staff or daughter. How did she get out of the house unnoticed, and where did she go? “Your welcome, Ms. Holloway.” The call ended.
Chapter Ten
Traffic volume had increased on the expressway as Branson neared New York City. He wasn’t accustomed to driving. Taxi drivers jockeyed lanes and moved forward, protecting their cars from other vehicles. They eased into the correct lanes for tolls smooth as ice. Tackling the rush hour gridlock was not for the weak.
About the time the NYC skyline came into view, the phone rang. “Hello, Mrs. Spinnaker. Who is next on the list?”
“Marguerite Chadwick from Atlanta. I’ll connect your call.”
Following a click, a woman said, “This is Mrs. Chadwick.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Chadwick. Branson Carhill calling on behalf of Sylvia Duvet’s daughter.”
“Good morning, Mr. Carhill. How may I help you?” Her voice wasn’t the deep southern he’d expect from an Atlanta gal.
“I’m conducting an investigation. Were you aware that Mrs. Duvet is missing?”
She gasped. “Why no. I had not heard. Do you have any idea where she is?”
Branson waited, but Marguerite didn’t elaborate. The silence dragged. “I have been retained by her daughter to locate her. My services include anonymity and no contact with the papers.” When she still didn’t offer information, he added, “You don’t have to be concerned about revealing what you know. Every word is kept confidential.”
“I for one appreciate that, Mr. Carhill.”
“Have you been in contact with Sylvia recently?”
“Yes. We talked about taking a shopping trip. Seems she’s looking to redecorate her living room and dining room. Before calling in interior decorators, she wanted to go to the city and shop for ideas. She probably is there. Have you searched?”
“Sylvia would stay in a hotel rather than travel back the same day, right?”
“You have no idea how tiring shopping can be.”
“Nothing is recorded in her planner. Wouldn’t she have such a trip noted?”
“You’ve seen her planner? And she didn’t write down the trip? My. That is odd.”
“Mrs. Chadwick, do you know where Sylvia is?”
“Are you pressing accusations against me, Mr. Carhill?”
“No, ma’am. I simply want to know that she is well. That is all her daughter is asking.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. You’ll see. She’ll show up at the house bursting with design ideas. I’m sorry, Mr. Carhill. I don’t believe I can offer further assistance.”
The code politely indicated she’d finished the conversation.
“Thank you. Are the Cinq Amis planning to exchange gifts this year?”
“Why, Mr. Carhill. What possessed you to ask such a question?”
“Most friends exchange gifts. Especially five close friends.”
“Oh. I see. You hadn’t mentioned knowing about our group. Yes. We usually exchange gifts. I have Sylvia’s all wrapped. I’m so glad you asked. I’ll need to get it to the delivery service soon.”
“So, you don’t plan to meet?”
She paused. “Well, yes. I said I would come to help with the interior decorating, but the date hasn’t been set. I’m sorry, I really must go. Please ask Sylvia to call when you find her.”
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Chadwick.” The call ended. How interesting. These three ladies seemed confident in Sylvia’s safety despite not knowing where she was.
Ten minutes later the phone rang. “Mrs. Spinnaker, is Elizabeth Alexander on the line?”
“She is, although I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to speak with her since you’re driving to her home.”
“You didn’t mention that to her.”
“Of course not.”
“Then yes, I want to talk with her. In case Sylvia�
�s four friends are reporting to each other, Mrs. Alexander will be expecting a call from me.” The excuse she would give for what her dear friend Sylvia was doing ought to be intriguing. Those four women definitely were in cahoots with each other.
“Very well. I’ll connect you.”
Following a click, a woman answered. “This is Elizabeth Alexander. How may I help you?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Alexander. This is Branson Carhill calling on behalf of Sylvia Duvet’s daughter. She is concerned about her mother who has been missing for three days and has asked me to investigate. Do you happen to know where she is?”
“Sylvia’s missing? Oh, Lord. I was afraid that would happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“She said she planned a shopping trip to the city. As you may have ascertained, Sylvia is not a young woman anymore. I warned her not to go by herself. What with thieves and rapists out there. But no, she made up her mind that she had to have a new purse. The French have created this fabulous new bag. One of the designers said he would be in New York this week and would hand create a bag for anyone who visited. Sylvia fell in love with the idea the moment she saw a photo. Of course, she had to have one. I must admit the colors and style suited her perfectly. She asked me to go along, but I couldn’t get away until next week. You don’t suppose something has happened to her?”
“That is what I’m trying to find out. Why do you think she didn’t record the shopping trip in her planner?”
“It was a last-minute thought. Opportunities like this don’t come along often. Only three days ago the designer notified his inner circle that he would be in America. It took another day to spread the news. Hardly enough time to arrange a trip with friends, especially when they live all over the country. I’m surprised Sylvia squeezed in the visit. Even you must understand time is needed to prepare for such a trip into the city.”
He didn’t. Not the preparation or the desire to have yet another bag. Why would a woman need more than one purse? Fashion had always been a mystery even if the item was designed just for her. “All right. Assuming she went shopping, Sylvia’s staff can’t explain when or how she left the house. Do you have any ideas?”