“I tried his cell, but it’s been disconnected since he left high school. I didn’t dare write a letter, because I was afraid his parents would find out. I wasn’t sure what they’d do to him for getting me into ‘trouble.’”
“You really think they’d hurt him if they found out about little Mason?” I felt a pang of guilt because I’d let it slip to the Waterfords yesterday.
“I don’t know. The things he told me about them…it was awful. I think they’re devil worshippers, too.”
I was startled and held back a laugh. “Devil worshippers?”
Her eyes grew round. “Well, they could be. His great grandmother was supposedly a witch.”
This really made me wonder. Had the poor paranoid boy spun all these stories about his folks to keep Jane away from them? To make her afraid enough not to tell anyone about their relationship? Could he have wanted a little tryst on the side without any of the family repercussions?
Or had he really believed all the stories he told her?
It seemed insane.
Why would he care if his parents knew he was dating Jane? Was there some kind of family rivalry going on? Or had they warned him about getting involved with girls, about sidetracking his future?
The poor kid seemed to have no future now. Maybe they’d had big plans for him. Med school? Law school?
I shrugged and stood. “I saw him today. He seemed really, um, troubled, Jane. Seriously ill.”
“It’s the drugs, I tell you,” she whispered fiercely. When a clatter came from the kitchen, she frantically waved me back to my seat. “He’s coming back. Quick. Sit down.”
What did she want from me? Was she really hoping I’d intervene on her behalf? Help her to see Beckett? Help him escape from his folks?
It seemed odd that she’d reach out to a perfect stranger.
Perhaps somehow she’d bonded with me the morning of the crash. Maybe I was the only one who hadn’t judged her, a complete outsider, who hadn’t thought terrible things of Beckett. It sounded like everyone in the town knew about his troubles in high school already. Apparently it had even alienated people from the Waterfords’ life, according to what Cindy implied about Marla having no company anymore.
How could the Waterfords have company with Beckett in the house, anyway? My visit this morning was a good example of the problems that could arise. Did people avoid the family because of that? All except Cindy from the town hall, of course. She’d had coffee with Marla yesterday morning.
More clinking came from the kitchen. While we waited for Albert to bring out the tray, I walked over to examine a row of silver framed photographs on the desk. A wedding picture of Albert and a dark skinned woman was prominently displayed in the center. Beside it, several photographs over the years were mounted in small frames. The young lady they featured—in a dance recital, on a pony, graduating from high school, and then holding a medical school certificate—was a pretty dark woman in a white coat standing before a hospital entrance with a stethoscope around her neck. It certainly looked like somebody had graduated from medical school.
Another photo showed the girl—I figured she was Albert’s daughter and Jane’s mother—in a wedding picture with a very blond young man.
Next, I examined a framed certificate of thanks to Dr. Lorraine Cook and Dr. Manfred Wright, from Doctors Without Borders. Beside it was a picture of the young woman and her husband in front of a straw hut, presumably in some foreign country.
“Are these your folks, Jane?” I asked, pointing to the couple.
She nodded, but her face crumpled and I thought she might be on the verge of tears.
I had to stop being so nosy. Everything I did seemed to make people cry these days.
She waved a hand in my direction. “Sorry. It’s just that I miss them.”
I hadn’t finished looking at the photos, but scanned a couple more of Jane and a young man who resembled her. Her brother? I didn’t dare ask about him.
Albert came into the room pushing an old teacart with wobbly wheels. “My daughter and her husband are in Africa. Been there for a month, looking for Jane’s brother, Robbie.”
Another mystery? I didn’t think one family—or even one town—could hold so many secrets.
Albert motioned me to my seat and handed me a mug of coffee. “Cream and sugar’s there, if you want it.”
“Thanks.” I added a big dollop of cream and one sugar. Albert took a seat on the couch and I turned to Jane. “So, what happened to your brother, if I might ask?”
“He did what my parents wanted. He became a doctor, just like them.” Her face turned bitter. “Unlike me, the ultimate failure.”
Albert held up a hand. “Now, just wait a minute, honey. Let me tell Gus about it proper like.”
I settled back in my chair and prepared to listen.
Chapter 14
Albert cocked his head toward his granddaughter, his eyes brimming with love. “Honey, we all know you’ve done the best you could. And Robbie had it easy. He didn’t get a little surprise in high school, like you did.”
She sighed. “I know. And I love Mason, you know that, Grandpa. But I hated Robbie for being such a goodie-goodie, and for becoming so darned successful. I mean, for God’s sake, he became a doctor, just like them.”
“But a lot’s happened since then. You don’t feel the same way now, do you?” Albert said gently.
She lowered her eyes. “No. I feel bad about it, actually. I want to know what happened to him. What if he’s dead? What if some terrorists killed him?” Her face grew pale. “And what if they do the same thing to Mom and Dad?”
Albert held up a hand. “Now, Jane. Hang on. We have no idea what happened yet. It does no good to go guessing about bad things. And your folks are going to call tonight, remember?”
I couldn’t help myself. “So what was Robbie doing in Africa? When did he go down there?”
“Same as Lorraine and Manny,” Albert said. “They were dedicated to that Doctors Without Borders thing. And Robbie ended up doing several spells with his parents down there.” He took a sip of coffee. “Robbie left from Boston—where he works at Mass General—on the Tuesday after Memorial Day. Told us he was going to work with the same tribe Lorraine and Manny were with last year. Guess they were working on adding a water line to the village.”
“Did he go alone?”
Albert nodded. “We think so. Lorraine spoke with his coworkers up at the hospital, and they said he’d asked for a leave of absence for two months. As far as they know, no other doctors were going down with him. At least not from Mass General. We never heard from him, but for the first month or so, it wasn’t unusual. It’s hard for them to communicate with the outside world. They have to travel hours to get to a phone. And forget about cell signals. Those only work in the cities.”
“He stays with us on the weekends,” Jane said. “He loves the Cape. The last time we saw him was Memorial Day. He left the next morning for Logan before any of us got up. Six o’clock flight, so he had to be there by four in the morning.”
I leaned forward. “Did your folks confirm that he actually got on the flight?”
They exchanged a glance, as if the idea had never occurred to them.
Albert said, “We’re pretty sure he did. I mean, he didn’t come home or call us to say that he missed his flight.”
“I assume someone saw him in Africa when he got there?”
They both blanked. Jane looked pensive. “I don’t know. But my folks are going to give us more information tonight.”
I leaned back. “Just for the sake of argument, what if something happened to him in Boston, on the way to the airport?”
Albert set his mug down. “We didn’t think of that. But I’m sure he would’ve called…”
Jane rocked little Mason, who’d begun to whimper. “What if he was mugged in the airport? Or had an accident?”
I set down my empty cup and tented my fingers. “I think the cops would have contacted you if that ha
ppened. Assuming they could run the car registration, or look up his driver’s license information.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “What if he was kidnapped?”
Albert held up a hand, chuckling a little. “Wait a minute now, sweetie. Let’s not go off the deep end here.” He shot me an apologetic smile. “Poor Gus doesn’t want to get all embroiled in this stuff, anyway.”
I locked eyes with him. “On the contrary. I’d like to help. I’m here for a whole month. To tell the truth, I’m not used to doing—nothing—for more than a day. It’s kind of weird for me.”
“Wish your wife came today.” Albert stood and looked out the window toward the sea. “Ya know, if Robbie was here, she would get along real good with him.” He cast a sideways glance at me. “Missy from the library told me she was lookin’ up our family history.”
“She did.” Not surprised at the small town grapevine, I tossed a smile in his direction. “She loves a mystery. Especially if it involves history.”
“Like I said, she’d love Robbie.” Albert came back to the couch and perched on the arm. “He’s really into it.”
Jane laughed. “Yeah. He’s almost as obsessed with finding that treasure as my grandfather.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
Jane gestured toward one of the doors that led to another room. “Why don’t we see if Gus’s wife can figure out something from that mess in there? That is, if she’s willing to take a look at it.”
Albert’s face lit up. “Do you think Camille would like to mess around with these books and papers? I studied them ‘til I was cross-eyed, and can’t find anything useful.”
“That’s why he’s given up and just uses his metal detector every morning,” Jane teased.
Albert shrugged. “Ya never know. I still could find it.”
I followed them into the next room, and soon stood in the middle of a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. In the center was a long table piled with antique books and papers. I picked one up to examine it. “Camille would love to go through these; I guarantee it.” It was the understatement of the century. Camille would go nuts in here.
“Lots of this stuff was handed down in our family.” Jane put Mason down and he began to toddle around the room. She followed his every step, keeping him away from things like the pokers by the fireplace, which he seemed obsessed with touching.
“Why don’t you bring her ‘round tomorrow?” Albert asked. “’Bout the same time? Ten?”
“Sounds good.”
We said goodbye and I limped out to the car, dying to tell Camille about the treasure trove of information the family had collected in their library. She’d be in absolute heaven tomorrow.
Chapter 15
Since I couldn’t go swimming, I decided to pay Jack a visit and get in some practicing. He’d offered his piano to me carte blanche, and I intended to take him up on it. After all, if I went a whole month without playing, I’d be rusty when I got home and I needed to start preparing for my weekly radio show on WRLN, as well as for my upcoming new students at Conaroga University who would take my Opera 101, Intro to Music, and Romantic Composers classes next month.
To tell the truth, I missed the solace I found when working through a Chopin mazurka or a Scott Joplin rag. It had always been my “cheap therapy” and even now, I felt the compulsion to run my fingers over the keyboard for a few hours.
If I were honest, I missed a lot more, already, and it was difficult to admit that taking a vacation was actually harder than I’d expected.
Sure, I loved the ocean. I loved meeting the wide and strange variety of people who crossed my path in Brewster. I loved the onion rings and ice cream and lobster rolls, as well as the uninterrupted time with my wife.
But deep down, I sorely missed my grandson and twin granddaughters. In our most recent summer days, I’d been doing a lot of babysitting. Since college was out for the summer, I was happy to do it. We spent hours together, rolling around on the lawn with the dogs, playing on the swings, strolling through the gardens, and picking vegetables together. As much as I knew this time off would be good for me, it was getting harder by the hour.
I missed my best friend in the world, Sig. And my harried daughter, who balanced her life between the kids and saving animals. My teenage daughter Shelby also called to me, in spite of the challenges she gave us almost daily.
But the worst was facing the loss of my dog.
Max had been a hero among dogs, who’d actually saved my life a few years back. I missed having him circle around the bottom of the bed at nighttime before he dropped into his favorite sleeping position. I missed the way he’d bury his chewies under the covers. I missed our walks in the woods, where he’d lead the way with eyes shining and tongue lolling. He loved those walks as much as I did. Maybe more. But most of all I missed his constant presence and companionship in a household full of noise and craziness.
With a long, painful sigh, I turned the car in the direction of The Seacrest mansion. I wound down the long service road that led to the cottage where Jack lived, and parked behind the new studio.
From the cottage porch, Jack shouted a greeting. I turned to see him sitting on a stool with a towel around his neck. A pretty redheaded woman was in the process of giving him a haircut.
“Come on up, Gus,” he said.
The woman lowered her scissors and smiled in my direction, shielding her eyes from the strong sun glinting over the dunes.
Jack met me at the bottom step of the porch and shook my hand. “Hey. Looks like you’re walking a bit better today.”
“It’s not as sore as it was,” I agreed.
“Good. I’d like you to meet my wife, Scout.” He turned to his wife, who’d put down her scissors and comb and joined us. “Scout, this is Gus.”
A brilliant smile spread across her face. “Pleasure to meet ya, Gus.” She gave me a firm handshake and motioned to the porch. “Just finished my man’s haircut, as you can see. He was getting pretty shaggy again.”
I laughed, running my fingers through my own hair. I tended to run on the shaggy side, too. “My wife’s always after me to get my own hair neatened up.”
“Come down to the shop when you’re ready. I’ll give ya a good deal,” Scout said, swiping her long mane of fiery red hair over one shoulder. The woman had a strong New England accent and I loved listening to her.
“Where’s your shop?” I asked.
“On Main Street, in town. It’s just past the Brewster Hardware store on the right. You can’t miss it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, noticing a big beautiful dog who scratched at the screen door from the inside.
“Looks like somebody wants to join us,” I said, motioning to the door.
Scout let loose a melodic laugh and trotted lightly up the stairs to let the canine out. “This is Bubba.” She held his collar and leaned down to him. “Bubba, meet Gus. He’s a musician, like your dad.”
The dog went wild, trying to get to me with a doggy smile and wiggling body.
“He’ll jump all over you if we let him,” Jack said.
“Let him go. I love dogs,” I said, holding out my hand to him.
“You sure?” Scout said.
I nodded, bracing myself on the porch railing since my balance wasn’t very good at the moment. “I’m sure.”
Bubba raced toward me when she finally let him go, snuffling me all over, licking my hands, and finally jumping up to lick my face. I sat on the porch steps and patted him all over, scrubbing behind his ears until his eyes practically rolled up in delight. “Good boy. Aren’t you a good boy,” I said, over and over.
The simple pleasure of the experience brought me close to tears, as unmanly as that sounds. I couldn’t help it. It made me miss my Max so much.
Jack touched my shoulder. “Gus? Are you all right?”
I swiped at the tears puddling in my eyes. “I’ll be okay. I just lost my dog a few weeks ago.”
Scout made a sympath
etic noise and came forward. “I’m so sorry. It’s really hard.”
Her sympathy made it worse. I sucked in a big breath and tried to still my rampant emotions. “Yeah.”
“Want to come in and have a drink or something?” she asked.
“Actually, I’m here to practice, if that’s okay. And I’m sorry to interrupt your haircut.”
Jack shook his head. “No problem. We were done anyway.” He pointed to the studio. “Piano is right in there, as you know. The music is on the stand. I actually got it all set up for you, knowing you’d be coming soon.”
I straightened and thanked him. “Can’t wait to get started. I’ve missed playing.”
He exchanged a knowing look with me. “I know that feeling. Someday I’ll tell you about my hiatus of months without my violin. It was brutal.” (The Seadog: a love story, Paines Creek Beach book 3)
Curious, I cocked my head. “Sounds intriguing. I’ll take you up on that one of these days.”
Scout slipped an arm around Jack’s waist and laid her head on his chest. “Yeah. It was quite the adventure.” She reached up to lightly kiss him when he lowered his face to hers. “Anyway, hope your practice goes well. Jack’s really looking forward to the concert.”
Jack squeezed her closer to him. “I’m so glad you fell on that rock, Gus.”
Scout let out a shriek. “That’s a terrible thing to say, Jack.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “Well, you know what I mean. Otherwise I’d still be looking for a piano player.”
I held up one hand. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m glad it happened, too.” I chuckled and turned toward the studio with Bubba close on my heels.
“Is it okay if he comes with me?” I asked over my shoulder, reaching down to pat him some more.”
“Sure,” Scout said. “He’s been wanting a new playmate, anyway.”
I laughed and patted my thigh. “Okay, boy. Come on. You can help me practice, okay?”
The dog bounced up and down at my side, occasionally licking my hand when he could catch it. I swear I saw him smile.
Murder on the Brewster Flats Page 6