by K. A. Davis
“Hello.”
“I love you, Ed. I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid. Will you wait for me?”
“I sure hope this is you, Diane, otherwise some wonderful, sounding woman has the wrong number.”
She cried and laughed at the same time before hanging up.
***
Claire and Ike entered the delicious, smelling kitchen and were greeted by Jill’s wrath. “Claire McPherson, where have you been, and why did you go out by yourself. You know the rules. You’re lucky to be alive. I should kill you right now!”
Ike scurried under the kitchen table with his tail between his legs.
Claire froze, her eyes the size of dinner plates.
Jill was waving a spatula and had something yellow at the corner of her mouth.
“If you’re so mad, why are you making me breakfast?”
Waving the spatula back and forth in the air Jill ranted. “Oh, this isn’t for you missy. This is only for those of us who know how to obey the rules!”
Claire wanted to laugh but she knew it would make Jill madder. “Sorry. You’re right.”
“Jill,” Claire said, meekly lowering her head. “You have something on your lip….”
“Oh damn, Claire. Can’t you be serious,” Jill said, running her tongue around her mouth. “It’s Hollandaise sauce for Eggs Benedict and you don’t get any.”
“Rethink that Jill. If you really want to kill me, your vein clogging, heart stopping Eggs Benedict might just do the trick…but they are soooo worth it!”
Jill laughed and hugged her friend. “I’m just relieved you’re okay. Please, don’t do that again.”
Claire was setting the table as Caroline and Diane walked into the kitchen.
“What is that wonderful smell,” Caroline asked.
“I made us a special breakfast this morning,” Jill answered. “Eggs Benedict and champagne mimosas to celebrate another week here.”
Diane looked dubious. “We’re celebrating walking into danger?”
“What was the name of that movie, Eyes Wide Shut?” Caroline asked. “Don’t remember what it was about, but the title fits us.”
Jill’s breakfast was so good vocals were limited to “oohs” and “ahs.” Finally, raising her mimosa, Claire said, “Here’s to solving this mystery quickly and good weather for the remainder of our vacation.”
Four glasses clinked in the center of the table and the women dove back into the tender poached eggs and Canadian bacon on English muffins smothered in Hollandaise sauce.
***
Caroline opened the front door to a young man in a blue and white uniform.
“Special delivery for Diane Fuller.”
Hearing her name, Diane approached the front door and signed for the package. As she and Caroline both watched, Wendell drove past the house. The courier’s car was parked at the side of the road with Express Courier Service printed on the door.
Tipping the young man and closing the door Diane said to Caroline, “I’d be surprised if Wendell didn’t notice the courier’s car. He’s probably figured out what we’re up to.”
“I hope he has, and I hope he’s scared,” Caroline replied, coldly.
Claire and Jill joined them in the dining room where they spread the papers from the courier’s package on the table. Diane divided the information into four separate piles. When she came to the pictures of the girls she hesitated and looked at Claire.
“It’s okay,” Claire said. “I have to see them sooner or later.”
Jill disappeared into the kitchen where they could hear her rummaging through drawers. Returning to the dining room she started taping the pictures up on the dining room wall. Pens and paper were distributed and the women took seats around the table and started to read. One-by-one, they matched the pictures on the wall to the newspaper articles.
“Claire,” Jill said, looking up from her work. “Do you realize that Betsy did not disappear from here?”
Claire looked at Jill strangely. “What do you mean?”
“The articles I’m reading, from the Bedford Gazette, say she disappeared from her hometown of New Bedford. Where were the articles in the scrapbook from?”
“I don’t know. They were just clippings. The newspaper names weren’t there. I just assumed, because the scrapbook was here, that the articles were from the local newspaper.”
“That would explain why we didn’t find anything at the newspaper office,” Jill added.
Diane laid down her pen. “That might also explain why no one suspected Wendell. There was no reason to think anyone in Haworth, or The Point, had anything to do with it. They may not even have known about the abduction.”
The women continued to work and, one-by-one, the pictures were removed from the wall and paper clipped to newspaper articles. Within a few hours they had fifty-three perfect matches of articles with pictures of missing girls.
“Do you think he killed the girls near their homes and kept the pictures as trophies?” Claire asked, stretching her arms over her head, and looking around the table.
“Not one body was ever recovered,” Caroline pointed out.
Without warning Diane got up. “I’ll be right back.” They heard the front door slam and within minutes she was back with a large road map of the Eastern United States that she taped to the wall where the girls’ pictures had been. Picking up her stack of articles she read each one again and with a red pen made small circles on the map.
“Look at your articles and mark the areas your victims were from on the map,” she said, to the others. When they had finished Diane pulled out the picture of the map in Wendell’s basement. Comparing the pins on Wendell’s map to the red circles they had made, she turned and said, “They match. He marked the places where he abducted the girls.”
“Does anyone see a pattern?” Diane asked, stepping back from the map.
“Not one abduction from Cape Cod. They’re all on the east coast between Maine and South Carolina, and not one town is farther than twenty miles from the coast,” Jill volunteered, feeling like she had just correctly answered a junior high quiz.
Caroline picked up a ruler and a red marker and drew a line from each circle to Haworth.
“It’s a giant spider with dozens of legs,” Jill said.
Diane started to trace each red line with her finger. “Look at this… the most direct way to get to Haworth or The Point, from any of the circled areas, is by sea.”
“I’d say it’s time to have lunch at Blackbeard’s again,” Claire said, pushing her chair back and getting up from the table.
Jill looked at her curiously. “Why do you say that?”
“Boats. I think Brittany probably knows who owns boats in Haworth.”
“Let’s take our bikes. We need the exercise if we’re going to eat again,” Diane remarked.
Caroline left the dining room and returned with the backpack she had bought the day before, in Haworth, for her painting supplies. She removed the map from the wall and folded it carefully.
“What are you doing?” Jill asked.
“We can’t leave any of this information out of our sight.”
“She’s right,” Claire agreed, gathering up the pictures and articles and handing them to Caroline. “I’ll let Ike out to take care of things while you unlock the bikes.”
***
The four women on bikes looked like any group of visitors enjoying a beautiful day on Cape Cod. Their first stop was the bike rental to let them know they would be keeping the bikes for another week. From there they stopped to buy a local newspaper, out of a machine, in front of a small, grocery store. Slowly continuing down the street toward Blackbeard’s, Diane who was in the lead, stretched out her arm and pointed to the police car parked in front of the real estate office that handled Windward Cottage. Anyone seeing her would have thought she was signaling to turn the corner toward Blackbeard’s Tavern. At the pub, they locked the bicycles in the bike rack on the sidewalk.
Unbuckling her
helmet, Claire walked closer to Diane. “What do you think Peterson was doing at the real estate office?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you find it odd that’s the second time we saw him at one of the places Jill and Caroline had been.”
Diane looked puzzled. “Why would he care about what we do?”
Jill and Caroline gathered around to listen.
“Maybe he makes it a habit to check in on the local businesses,” Jill suggested.
“Maybe he just doesn’t have anything better to do,” Claire interrupted.
At the entrance to the dining room they were greeted by Brittany. “Hi. Nice to see you again. Would you prefer inside or outside?”
“Inside is fine,” Claire answered.
Brittany showed them to a window table that overlooked a brick-lined courtyard with umbrella tables and giant clay pots overflowing with ivy and white geraniums.
“Very nice. Thank you, Brittany. Will you be our server today?” Diane asked.
“Sure will. Glad you wanted to stay inside because I’m not working the patio today. What can I get you to drink?”
“Iced tea?” Diane asked, looking at the others. They nodded and Diane confirmed. “Four iced teas, please.”
When Brittany returned with the drinks, Claire inquired, “So, I imagine a lot of people around here own boats?”
“Most of the business owners do,” Brittany replied. “Even my boss has a boat.”
“Really? I guess they do a lot of fishing,” Claire asked, with feigned curiosity.
“Oh yeah… you know men. Gotta either be on a boat or a golf course. My dad says boats are just big holes in the water you pour money into. But then, that’s probably because he can’t afford a boat. They’re really expensive.”
“Do you know anyone who takes women out fishing?” Diane piped in.
“Not personally, but if you’re interested just go on down to the docks and ask around.”
“Do you ever go out on boats Brittany?” Jill asked, with sincere concern.
“Not me. I get seasick. I do like to look at the names though, I think they’re funny. Like my boss’s boat is called Tippy Canoe. Isn’t that cute?”
This gave Diane the perfect opportunity to ask more questions without being obvious. “What do some of the other owners call their boats?”
“Hmmm… well, there’s True Love, Weekend Warrior, Spirit of the Sea and, of course, a lot of women’s names. I think men name boats for their wives. There’s a really big boat that I think is owned by a couple different men… Chief Peterson and Mr. Edwards from the newspaper, and some others. Their boat is called Swift Runner. Now that doesn’t seem like a very good name for a boat does it? I mean boats don’t run, they sail or float. I don’t get that one.”
Diane smiled and winked at her friends. “I think we’re ready to order, Brittany.”
As soon as Brittany had left the table Diane spoke. “I wonder if Wendell owns a boat.
“I think we need to take a walk on the docks, just like Brittany suggested and maybe even charter a boat,” Claire said.
Caroline looked alarmed. “Claire, I really think that’s pushing it… chartering a boat, I mean. We can take a look at the boats, but I don’t think we should go out on one. If Wendell did have the cameras turned on, he knows you’ve been at his house and if he knows you were there, then he knows we know…oh crap, how many times did I say ‘know’…anyway you know what I meant. It’s too dangerous.”
Claire took a long drink of iced tea and turned to Diane. “Is boat registration public record?”
“I don’t know, but Ed will,” Diane said, shrugging her shoulders. Looking around, to make sure no one was close enough to hear her conversation, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans and called Ed. “He’ll check it out,” she said, returning her phone to her pocket. “He’s curious about what we’re up to. I won’t be able to keep this from him much longer.”
“I don’t think you should,” Jill said. “This is getting serious.”
Brittany returned with their meals.
“Oh, hey, forgot to tell you. Chief Peterson was in yesterday, after you left, asking about you. Did one of you get a parking ticket or something?”
The four women looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“No,” Claire said. “We met him at the bakery one morning. He was probably just being friendly.” Then just to make it interesting she added, nodding to Diane, “I think he kind of likes my friend here.”
“You ladies be careful. He has a real reputation with women.”
“But I thought you said he was married to the librarian?” Caroline asserted.
“Well now, you know there’s married… and then there’s married,” Brittany replied, with an exaggerated wink before turning back toward the kitchen.
“Holy moly, that’s the best over-tipping we ever did,” Jill said. “She’s a walking encyclopedia.”
“Indeed,” Claire concurred, biting into her BLT.
When Brittany returned to retrieve the check, Diane handed it to her with another big tip. “No change Brittany.” Leaning close to Brittany’s ear she whispered, “Just between us girls, if Chief Peterson comes in, you don’t need to mention our conversation. I’d be embarrassed, if you know what I mean?”
“Oh sure,” Brittany agreed, bobbing her head. “I know exactly what you mean. These lips are sealed,” she promised, imitating locking her lips with an invisible key.
***
Back at Windward Cottage, the women changed into bathing suits and took Ike and Caroline’s backpack down to the beach.
“Let’s go over these articles again,” Claire said. “There has to be something to tie the girls together.”
One by one, they reviewed the articles and compared they’re previous notes.
Diane shook her head. “Nothing, there’s nothing similar. The girls were between the ages of eight and sixteen, different sizes, shapes, hair color… nothing to indicate a certain type was targeted. The only similarity is they were never found.”
“Wait,” Jill said. “There is one thing, they all disappeared after dark when their families thought they were with friends. The disappearances were never discovered until the following day. That’s plenty of time to get from any of the abduction sites to Haworth by boat.”
Caroline unfolded the map and calculated the distance with the scale. “She’s right. Until they got around to reporting them missing, and investigating outside their immediate areas, the girls could have been here.”
Claire reached out her hand. “Let me see all the pictures.”
Reluctantly, they handed them over. Claire scrutinized each picture and then handed them to the others. “Don’t look at the girls. Look at the backgrounds.”
A few minutes passed and Diane said, “Stone. The pictures are dark. The backdrops all look like stone walls. Claire, is this the stone wall we saw in Wendell’s basement?”
“I can’t be sure because the pictures are so dark, but I think the stone is the same in all the photos which would mean the girls were all taken to the same place.”
***
Showered and dressed in comfy sweatpants and shirts, the women took up residence in their favorite rockers on the front porch. Each woman rocked at a pace consistent with her personality. Caroline had her eyes closed and rocked only every now and then dreaming of beautiful paintings. Claire rocked steady and fast, like her brain moved, always contemplating her next move. Diane was slow and steady, with purpose, as she was in business. Jill’s rocking was erratic like her fun loving personality. Ike paced around the porch doing his sniffing act before settling down beside Claire’s chair.
Claire finally broke the silence. “Anyone getting hungry?”
“I am,” Caroline answered. “I saw a pizza place in town. Why don’t we order for delivery, and have pizza and beer on the roof?”
Jill gaped at Caroline, “Beer? You drink beer?”
“Of c
ourse I do Jill,” Caroline laughed, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “This is the new me remember. I’m actually hoping I never have to attend another country club function, or business dinner, again. I like this new life.”
Diane stopped rocking. “So do we Caroline, you’ve come a long way.”
***
On the roof, with cold beer and hot pizza, the foursome sat cross-legged around the open pizza box.
“This is great,” Claire said. “We really need to do this more often.”
Jill stopped chewing and said with sarcasm, “Do what? Try to get ourselves killed?”
“Oh, come on Jill, it’s not that bad.”
“Not yet,” Caroline said. “But I have to admit I’m nervous. Wendell may be planning something bad.”
“Let’s just see if we can make a boat connection and, if we do, we’ll turn everything over to the state police,” Claire pleaded. “We’re so close.”
Diane pulled her phone from her pocket. “No messages from Ed. He must not have found anything yet. I agree with Caroline, this is getting too close for comfort. We make this connection and then we’re done.”
“You’re right,” Claire agreed, reluctantly. “I think we were brought here for a reason and we’ve done the best we can. This may be enough to convict Wendell.”
Jill fanned a hot flash with a paper plate. “That’s the best news I’ve had in days. I want to be done with this so I can concentrate on Drew.”
“And, I want to concentrate on painting,” Caroline said.
“I just want to concentrate on staying alive long enough to see Ed again,” Diane added.
Claire stalled for time. “I want to know Betsy’s at peace.”
Jill threw the paper plate at Claire. “Oh, Claire, why do you always have to be so deep? Couldn’t you just say something like, ‘oh I don’t know, like maybe you want a million dollars or something?’”
“That would be nice. I’ll go with that,” Claire said, laughing as she caught the plate before it blew off the roof.
Chapter Ten
Saturday
“Has anyone noticed?” Claire asked, at breakfast.
Jill turned around from the stove. “Noticed what?”