Mermaids of Bodega Bay

by Mary Birk

Shelton introduced himself, and after saying the usual things, inclined his head to the other people milling around the room. “Who’s all here?”

  Grainger gestured to where the rest of the little group in the parlor was sitting around in front of the fireplace. “That’s my brother Graham and his wife, Meg. Meg and Anne are sisters.” He indicated an attractive brunette who was coming out of a door from what had to be the kitchen, carrying a tray. “That’s Jeanne, Anne’s other sister.”

  That explained Reid’s involvement, then. A family matter, apparently. Shelton nodded, then turned his full attention to the child’s kidnapping. To the police chief, he said, “No call yet?”

  “Not yet, but the note said they’d call at seven tonight. We had hoped there would be some earlier communication, though, so we’re monitoring the lines.” McLendon gestured to a table that held telephone equipment.

  “Good. Sometimes kidnappers will try to mislead us as to when the call is coming in so that they can avoid having the call monitored. My evidence people are already over at the house. I won’t need you to stay here, Chief. If you could make sure you have all available personnel on alert, I’ll be in contact as soon as we have more information.”

  McLendon nodded, acknowledging his dismissal, but Jack saw the hint of resentment behind the man’s calm facade.

  “Do you want my people to stay over at the Colony and show your team around?”

  “That would be great. I’ll stay here with Mr. Grainger until the scene’s processed, then I’ll take him back over to the house.”

  “Right. Let me know if you need anything.” McLendon picked up his jacket and headed to the front door, followed by Anne’s brunette sister.

  Shelton turned to Andrew Grainger. “Okay to call you Andrew?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m Jack. Let’s talk about what happened.” He jerked his thumb up and toward the door, signally that he wanted the room emptied..

  “You want them to leave?”

  “Anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be here.”

  Andrew Grainger approached the group by the fireplace and spoke for a few minutes, after which the brother and his wife and Anne’s brunette sister went into the kitchen. Anne stayed.

  Jack looked at her expectantly, but she made no move to leave. Instead, Grainger sat on the couch next to her, took her hand, and motioned for Jack to join them. This was odd.

  Grainger said, “The note said not to call the police or the FBI.”

  Jack could tell that the father was still not convinced he’d done the right thing. “That’s standard. We’ll be discreet. This is not something you want to handle alone.”

  “I want Terrence Reid to be involved in the negotiations.”

  “Right.” At least the man had chosen someone who knew what he was doing. “I’ve been on the phone with him, and he filled me in with what you and he talked about. I have some more questions, but for right now, I’ll try not to go over the same ground. Some of the questions might be repetitive, but I just need to get a sense for exactly how things went down.”

  Grainger nodded.

  “So, start with last night and when you saw Lenore last.” Jack took out a small recording device and sat it next to the other man. “Okay if I record it so you don’t have to keep repeating yourself?”

  “Sure.” Grainger composed himself, then began. “I checked on her at about eleven, a little after, probably. Then we,” he looked at Anne, “went to bed.”

  We? He and Anne? Apparently the Reids were still separated—more than separated. Why the fuck was Reid here?

  Grainger continued. “This morning, I went to Lenore’s room and she was gone.”

  “What time was that?”

  “About eight-thirty.”

  “Were you there, too?” Jack looked at Anne, seeing her now in a different light.

  She shook her head and removed her hand from Grainger’s. “No, I left earlier.”

  Grainger nodded. “So I looked all over, then went back to her room and found the ransom note.” He ran his hands over his face. “This is driving me crazy. When do you think they’ll call? Do you really think they’ll wait until tonight?”

  “They could call any time. There’s no set pattern for kidnappings like this. But, if they said seven, that may be what their plan is. They’ll want you to be ready and to have had time to get sufficiently worried so you’ll gladly pay the ransom. Also, they may still be getting set up, trying to make sure we can’t track or trace them.”

  Grainger nodded. “That’s what Reid said.”

  What the fuck was going on here? Why would Reid be helping his wife’s lover? Could they be involved in some weird threesome? Jack instantly discarded that intriguing idea. Reid was one of the most religious men he’d ever met.

  “The chief gave me a copy of the ransom note. It’s handwritten, which is better for us than if a computer was used. The original will be sent to our lab. We have a unit called the QDQ, Questioned Documents Unit, which specializes in things like this.”

  Grainger looked a little dazed, but didn’t say anything.

  “Did you recognize the handwriting on the note?”

  “No,”

  “Any particular impression about the demand amount?”

  Grainger shook his head, took a deep breath. “Nothing except that it’s low. They have to know I could pay more.”

  Jack thought the man was right. The kidnappers had to have heard about all the money Grainger had gotten from that auction.

  Grainger rubbed a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. Shaving obviously had been foregone that morning. “I was wondering about the wire transfer they mention. How hard is that to set up so it can’t be traced to them?”

  “It’s not like the movies—generally it can be traced—but it depends on their level of sophistication.” Jack hated having to detour into explanations during an interview. “Let’s go back to last night. Was there anyone besides you and Anne and the child in the house?”

  “No, and Anne didn’t stay all night. She’s staying here at the Mermaids with Jeanne for now. My dad and aunt have rooms at the house but they spend most of their time in New Mexico now. No one else lives with us.”

  “What was the condition of the bed when you went to Lenore’s room? Was it made?”

  “No. She’d slept in it. I’ve left it just as it was, if you want to see.” Grainger pulled Anne back against him, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Later. What exactly did you do when you saw she wasn’t there?”

  “I looked around the room just to make sure she wasn’t getting dressed or hadn’t fallen off the bed or anything. Her cat was there on the windowsill, but there was no sign of Lenore anywhere in the room. I thought she must have gone downstairs to get some breakfast and watch cartoons on the kitchen television. Lenore can be very self-sufficient for a six year old, probably because she’s never had a mother, just me. She can get her cereal and milk, things like that. But she wasn’t downstairs, so I searched the house. I started to panic. I thought maybe she had fallen in her room and I’d missed her, so I ran back upstairs. Then I saw the note.” He paused and looked down at Anne. “Babe, would you please get me a glass of water?”

  “Of course.” Anne slid out of his arms and went over to the table where a pitcher of water sat on a tray. She poured a glass of water and brought it to him. Grainger drank deeply, then put the glass down and pulled Anne back against him.

  Jack watched them, noting every detail of their interaction. If Grainger could have glued Anne to his side, Shelton had a feeling he would have. He wondered if Grainger was feeling threatened at having Anne’s husband so nearby. Easy come, easy go. Easy being the operative word, Jack thought sourly.

  “You have an alarm system?”

  “Yes, but I hadn’t set it.”

  “Why not?”

  Grainger shrugged. “I don’t always use it.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “We’ve ne
ver had any trouble before.”

  Jack nodded, indicated to Grainger to go on. His interest piqued at hearing about the missing master keys. “Who else has keys to the house?”

  “Martha Warren, Frank Bolton, my dad, me.” Grainger counted the names off on his fingers, then appeared to consider. “My Aunt Charlotte probably. I think my brother still has a set.”

  “Anne?” Jack gestured to her but spoke to Grainger.

  “No, she doesn’t need them. I’m always there when she’s there.” Grainger took Anne’s hand, raised it to his lips in a kiss.

  Her hands were surprisingly unglamorous, Jack thought, considering the rest of the package. Her fingernails were short and unpolished, her hands riddled with scratch mark, and several of her knuckles bore raw-looking scrapes. Like she’d been in a fight.

  Seeing his scrutiny, Anne made a wry face. “My work tears up my hands.”

  Jack’s mind went momentarily blank. What work? He nodded, thinking he should probably remember what work she was talking about. He’d figure it out later, he decided, then went back to the subject of the keys.

  “Martha Warren is the housekeeper, right?”

  Grainger said, “Yes, and she also takes care of Lenore while I work.”

  “How long has she been with you?”

  “Since before Lenore was born. Before Marisol, my late wife, got pregnant, she had been ill. We hired Martha to help her through the pregnancy. After Marisol died, Martha stayed on with us.”

  “Where does this Martha Warren live?”

  “In town.”

  “Do you trust her?

  “Completely.”

  Going down his list, Jack asked, “Frank Bolton has a key to the house? Who’s he?” At the mention of Bolton’s name, Jack thought he saw a shadow pass over Anne’s face. He wondered what that was about. Maybe another lover?

  Grainger didn’t seem to notice Anne’s reaction. He said, “Frank’s the Colony’s director. He plans conferences, seminars, publications, shows. Coordinates the business.”

  “Any other employees?”

  “Shannon Muldoon, his assistant. A girl from town. She’s part-time.”

  “Do you or your family have any enemies, people who think you’ve slighted them in any way?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Jack noticed that Grainger didn’t name Terrence Reid as a potential enemy. In fact, he’d been talking about Anne’s husband as if he were an ally, and Jack couldn’t think of a less likely suspect than Reid. Regardless, to be thorough, Jack would need to find out where Reid was when the child disappeared.

  “Who had access to the kitchen where the master set of keys was kept?”

  “The caterers, the artists, anyone at the party last night could have gone into the kitchen and taken them. Or it could have been done days earlier. Maybe Frank will have noticed.”

  “What did you do after you found the note?”

  “I called Anne and she came right away.”

  Jack looked at Anne. “With your husband.”

  She nodded, her face not giving anything away.

  “How’d that happen?”

  A vacant look slipped over Anne’s eyes. “I was supposed to be meeting him for breakfast at the café, but as soon as I got there, Andrew called. So Terrence came with me.”

  Why the fuck was she sleeping with Grainger, then having breakfast with Reid?

  “You’re all friends?”

  The vacant look disappeared momentarily from Anne’s eyes and what could have been pain flashed out. Grainger pulled their clasped hands into his lap. “Sounds strange, maybe, but she and Reid have been separated a long time. Anne and I have been together since September and Reid needed to meet with Anne to have her sign some papers for the annulment. This is the first time I’ve met him, but he’s been great.”

  Jack turned off the recorder. “Yeah, he’s a prince. Andrew, let me walk you through how we’re planning to proceed to get Lenore back.”

  Grainger listened, hanging on Jack’s words as if to a lifeline.

  “The phone lines are set up to be monitored and taped. The kidnappers will want to talk to you—and we’ll let them. We don’t want to panic them. I doubt if they are naïve enough to think you wouldn’t have gotten professional or law enforcement assistance, but we’ll ease them into that after we gauge the kind of people we’re dealing with.”

  “What do I say when they call?” Grainger regarded the telephone as if it were an unfamiliar object.

  “Mostly you need to just listen. Then you say you want to talk to her. Insist on it, but calmly. I’ll be with you listening and I’ll write down what to say. Even if they refuse to put her on the phone, we need to make them give us proof of life.”

  Grainger frowned. “Proof of life is something that shows she’s still alive, right?”

  “Right. They’ll be expecting us to ask for it.” Jack left unspoken the cold fact that proof of life was necessary because ransoms aren’t paid for dead kidnap victims. “The processing of the scene should be finished today and we’ll move you back to the house later this afternoon, but well before the seven o’clock call time.”

  “What should I do about getting the money ready? It’s Sunday, but I can call my banker at home.”

  “I assume he can be trusted to keep it confidential?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, call him.” The FBI made it a practice never to advise the family of a kidnap victim whether to pay the ransom or not, but in this case it sounded like Grainger had already decided to pay. Jack decided not to have the conversation yet about negotiating down the amount of the ransom. Kidnappers rarely expected their victim’s families or businesses to pay the first amount demanded, but there was time enough to discuss that later.

  Jack listened as the father called his banker and gave a short introduction about what was going on. Then Grainger handed the telephone to Jack who took over to complete the details, ending the call with an assurance that they would be in touch when they got more specific instructions from the kidnappers.

  At least putting together the ransom money wouldn’t be a problem in this case. Sometimes the ransom demands were just more than a family could handle. Jack had seen the crushing guilt that came when a family didn’t have the money to pay the asking price for their child.

  “Andrew, you mentioned that Lenore is sick. Is there anything we need to let the kidnappers know about that?”

  “Yes. She’s on a lot of medications and needs special care. I called her doctor to make sure that I’m getting the information correct. He should be here any minute.”

  Fuck, Shelton thought. Just what we need—more spectators.

  Chapter 15

  JACK SHOOK Dr. Will Kempton’s proffered hand. Of course the Graingers’ doctor would look like a fucking movie star and his wife like the proverbial older wife, glamorous and artificially well-preserved. Sometimes the California worship of youth was just depressing. He’d get the information they needed, then send the trying-too-hard-to-be-beautiful couple on their way.

  How had Reid gotten mixed up with this crowd? Jack looked over at the exquisite piece of blonde ass around whose shoulders the distraught father of the kidnapped child rested his arm. Had Reid walked in on her with Grainger, like Jack had on his wife? Anger flared up in him on behalf of Reid, on behalf of all men in general, and on behalf of himself in particular.

  Jack counted to ten, made himself breathe deeply. He needed to try to tone down his antagonism toward any woman whose behavior reminded him of Sarah. He needed to move on. Three years since the divorce—he should be over her betrayal by now.

  He made his voice monotone, a technique he used to make sure no emotion bled into his words. “Dr. Kempton, we need to know exactly what to tell the kidnappers about Lenore’s medical condition to keep her on as even a keel as possible until she’s returned home.”

  “Certainly. What Lenore has is the result of complications associated with an e.coli infection. Unf
ortunately, it appears that her kidneys are shutting down. We tried treating her locally, but with the seriousness of her condition, a specialist was needed to deal with it. We brought a specialist from Stanford in on her case, and he’s had tests done. Andrew is meeting with him this week to go over the results.”

  “This was over your head?”

  Will Kempton seemed a little affronted. “I have a general practice. This is a small town. We don’t have the facilities to handle these complicated cases. I sent Andrew to a specialist.”

  “Understood.”

  “Lenore needs her medication and to be kept away from potential sources of infection, from getting a cold, from people who are sick.”

  Jack handed him a pad of paper. “Can you write it all down please?

  “Sure.” The doctor hesitated briefly, quickly made some notes, then handed the pad back to Jack.

  “Thanks, doctor. We’ll make sure to get that information to the kidnappers, either directly when they call, or if it ends up that we have to go to the press, we’ll put it out through them.” Jack shook the doctor’s hand and said goodbye to the wife who was talking to Anne. They were obviously good friends. Two shallow women, perfect fit, he thought.

  There was no understanding women. Hadn’t Reid had enough money for Anne? Sure, Grainger was beyond rich, but so was Reid. But maybe it was Reid who’d cut Anne loose. That had to be it. Jack wondered what Reid’s freedom was going to cost him. He doubted Anne Michaels would agree to go away for nothing. Her looks had to be her meal ticket, and even if she was switching horses, she’d make the last horse pay a shitload of oats to get rid of her. He didn’t have Reid’s kind of money, but he was still paying off Sarah. One more year and he’d be free himself.

  Jack went over to the work station and took his cell phone out to make a call, but stopped before dialing, and motioned to the doctor to come close.

  “You were at the party last night, Dr. Kempton?”

  “Yes, with my wife.”

  “When did you leave?”

  “About ten-thirty, I think.”

  “Where’d you go after that?”Jack thought he’d just throw the question out to rattle pretty boy a little.