“I want to know just what the reason was,” she insisted.
“Okay, I’ll tell all. Do you remember when we worked on making an office out of that junk shop?” he asked.
“Perfectly. It was hard work.”
“Well, if you think back, you’ll recall that at the time there was no mention of what the firm was to be called at all. Then just before we opened for business, I had the sign painted and hung. You only said that it was a very attractive sign. You had no quibbles then about the name.”
She had to admit that what he said was perfectly true.
“What I’m trying to say, Kate, is that I thought then, and I still do, that it is important for the name of a business to become well known. By the time we were ready for a sign, I had already decided to marry you. It would have complicated things to have had to change the name on the sign and on all the office stationery from ‘O’Brian and Carlson’ to just plain ‘Carlson Realty.’ I guess I’m old-fashioned in that I think the custom of a wife taking her husband’s name is a rather nice one.”
She sat still, numb and confused, sensing, with some embarrassment, that she was blushing profusely while Grev watched her expectantly.
“You idiot,” she said at last. “You pompous, assuming idiot!” After that outburst, she was lost for words. Grev sat smiling benignly.
“You told me,” she said slowly, trying to control the tremor in her voice. “You told me, most specifically, that you had no intention of even considering marriage until you were thirty.”
“That’s perfectly true,” he said seriously, “and I meant it, but the strangest thing happened to me last week.”
“I’ll never guess, so you’ll just have to tell me what happened to you last week.”
“I had a birthday and now I’m thirty. Aren’t you going to wish me a happy birthday?”
“Pompous idiot,” she repeated mildly as he gathered her into his firm arms.
“Please trust me,” he said softly.
“I’m trying, I really am. But I have no intention of marrying you,” she said as she eased out of his embrace.
“We’ll see,” he said, tweaking her nose.
“Did you find the missing attic, Sherlock?” she asked later.
“No,” he said sheepishly, “I haven’t. I assumed that there would be a staircase going up from the basement, but I was wrong. It must simply be an ornamental roof with no access to an attic.”
“That doesn’t make sense. There must be almost as much space up there as there is on this floor. Where is the trunk that you mentioned to me? The one you said contained stamps, coins, and papers.”
“Oh, it was in the closet you’re using for wood. You must have moved it. That’s another thing I want Percy to see.”
“I hate to be continually doubting your word, but it wasn’t there when I came and I’ve yet to find it.”
“That’s ridiculous. This house isn’t really that large.”
“I know, but nevertheless, I don’t know where it is. Speaking of Mr. Peters, I’m surprised that he’s not back. He can’t have accomplished very much as yet and”—Grev joined her at this point—”and he has an appointment this evening,” they said in unison.
Kate heard him calling Mr. Peters outside. Again and again his strong voice called out. No answer.
She was pacing restlessly when Grev returned. He was out of breath and looking most concerned as he glanced at her questioningly. She shook her head. “No sign of him yet.”
“Where could he have gone? I went right down to the water’s edge thinking that he may have fancied a stroll, but there were no footprints in the sand.”
“Oh, dear. You know, I’m getting worried about the little fellow. Surely he would have left a note if he’d gone far.”
“Perhaps he decided to confirm that he could get a boat. Although he would have had to skirt through the woods to have missed us on the road, wouldn’t he?”
After they had eaten a quick lunch, Kate scrawled a hurried note: “Mr. Peters: We have gone to the village to look for you. If you return before we do, help yourself to lunch and wait for us. Kate.”
On their way, they stopped again at the Morgans’ house. The scene was repeated. Again, a sullen Mrs. Morgan at length answered and stated that Luke was not home. As she was closing the door, Kate blurted out, “Have you seen Mr. Peters?” It was as though she hadn’t spoken.
As it seemed likely that he would have gone directly to the village rather than stopping at any of the homes along the way, they walked briskly, watching and calling as they went. They both agreed that the town seemed unnaturally deserted and quiet.
Grev banged heavily on Casey’s door after looking around the wharf for him. There seemed to be sounds coming from within. Grev knocked again and Kate called out, “Casey, are you there? It’s Kate.”
At last the door was opened to them. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Casey said nervously. “I was busy with a tricky repair job.”
He made no move to invite them in, and Kate noticed that his hands bore no trace of grease.
“This is my partner, Grev Carlson,” she said. “I expect you remember him from when he came to see the property.” Casey nodded tersely. “Anyway,
we have a visitor. Or at least, we had a visitor,” she explained awkwardly, “and we seem to have lost him. It’s Mr. Peters, from Tulley’s Auctions, who came on the morning ferry. We thought he’d probably come here in an attempt to hire a boat.”
“How did you get here?” Casey interrupted, speaking to Grev.
“By boat last night. Have you seen Mr. Peters?”
“I sure have,” Casey said insolently, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “As a matter of fact, I saw the little dandy come from the ferry this morning. Thought that he was your razzle-dazzle partner.”
Kate was provoked that he had lapsed back into his recurrent animosity. She struggled to be pleasant.
“Well, as I said, he’ll be wanting to hire a boat as he must be back in Vancouver early this evening. Would you be able to take him?”
“I expect I could, all right, if you ever find him. Little dandies can easily become lost on wilderness islands like this. Send him down though, when he’s ready to go.”
“Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”
They met with similar negative results at the two stores—the proprietors were stiffly formal and admitted to no knowledge of Mr. Peters. Kate bridled with frustration. “They’re lying,” she fumed. “I know they are and so is Casey.”
“I don’t know why they would,” Grev said reasonably. “And as I said, it’s unlikely that we could have possibly missed him on the road. I think I’ll make a few phone calls. Or you make
them while I talk to Casey. Phone Allan, try Lynn, and check with Tulley’s.”
This time Casey answered the door at their first rap and said that Kate could use the phone. She tried the apartment first and as she expected, there was no reply. Most likely Lynn had found another job and was at work.
She called the office, waiting patiently as the phone rang repeatedly. Poor Allan was probably having a hard time with the two of them away. She frowned as the ringing continued. He had better have a good explanation for leaving the office during business hours. She was replacing the receiver when her eye focused on a suitcase under the workbench. There was something familiar about it, she thought as she looked up the number for Tulley’s.
“Is Mr. Peters there?” she asked foolishly.
“No, I’m sorry that he’s out of town, but if it’s important, you could call tonight. He nearly always attends the auctions and he has an appointment after.”
“I know,” she replied rather giddily. “This is Kate of Carlson Realty calling from Garrett Island. I was wondering if you’d heard from Mr. Peters. He did arrive here, but while we were out we seem to have lost him. Has he contacted you?”
“No. He hasn’t called, but you can’t have lost him. He has an important meeting that he must keep toni
ght, you see. He’ll be back then,” she assured Kate confidently.
Mr. Peters apparently had a reputation of infallibility among his staff. She envied them their certainty and trusted that he would indeed keep his appointment.
She waited a bit before dialing the office again. Allan was definitely out. Her gaze wandered to the suitcase again. It was a navy blue, crinkly, shiny material. Of course! Lynn had one just like it. Kate glanced around apprehensively before stooping beside it. With quick determination, she flicked open the clasps. She stared in confusion at Lynn’s belongings jumbled inside.
The elasticized side pockets bulged with an assortment of pill bottles. Gingerly she picked one up. “Librium, 10 mg., East Brock Pharmacy.” And another: “Valium, Star Drugs.” She began plucking containers at random. The collection included Darvon and phenobarbital as well. In all, there were four different drugs, with several containers of each type. All were prescribed for different patients by different doctors and were filled at different drugstores. What did it mean? Bewildered, she closed the case and went back to the waiting men.
“No luck,” she said. “You haven’t seen or heard from Lynn by any chance, have you, Casey?”
“Your girl friend? No, I haven’t seen her.”
“Her suitcase is in your workshop.”
“Oh, that’s right,” he said smoothly. “She must have been so glad to leave this place that she forgot her bag on the ferry. The crew left it with me. You’ll have to take it back to her when you go.”
“Sure, I’ll pick it up then,” she said.
“Well? What did you find out?” Grev asked when they were out of hearing distance.
“Lynn is no longer employed, she’s not at home, there’s no answer at the office, and—”
“No answer at the office?” Grev roared. “That little twirp, what’s the matter ‘with him?”
“I’m certain Allan has a perfectly good reason,” Kate pacified him. “Mr. Peters’s secretary tells me that he will be back this evening for sure because—”
“I know, because he has an important appointment.”
“Right. What do you think of Lynn’s suitcase being at Casey’s? I’m worried about that. Worried that it’s there and worried because it’s full of prescription drugs.”
Grev stepped back. “What do you mean, prescription drugs?”
“Just what I said. I looked in the bag to be sure it was hers. It is, but it contains bottles of phenobarbital, Librium, Valium, and Darvon. Grev, what does it mean?”
“It means she has a drug dependancy,” he said tersely.
“No, that can’t be so. I’ve lived with her for a year. I’d know.”
“Okay, let’s hear your explanation.”
She was at a loss. At last she said, “I can’t think of any other logical reason, but still, it doesn’t make sense. I do know she uses tranquilizers to quite an extent. I’ve tried to talk about that with her but it’s no use—you have to respect people’s privacy. She does sleep an awful lot and can’t hold a job, but what kind of friend or roommate would I be if I didn’t know something as important as that?”
“Now, don’t blame yourself. You can’t do anything at the moment. There’s something odd about Casey as well. He’s as hyped up as a skittish cat. Maybe Lynn, never left the island. Anyway, she never seemed too honest or stable to me.”
“Oh, the powers of suggestion. You’ve never said anything against her before. If you’d like to know something, she’s been warning me about you. According to Lynn, you’re to be avoided like the plague.”
“Is that right? Why doesn’t she like me?”
“I thought you might be able to tell me why.”
“I have no idea, unless it’s that she sensed my disapproval of her.”
“No, it couldn’t be anything as vague as that. She was really venomous about you. She was out with Allan, you know, and I wonder if he said something against you. To some extent, whether I like to admit it or not, her opinion of you has probably tainted mine. If for no other reason than that she and I have lived a reasonably harmonious life for a year and she has never tried to interfere in my personal life before.”
Grev shrugged. “Questions and more questions.”
As they entered the lane, Grev called out hopefully, “Percy. Percy, we’re back.”
In anticipation, they opened the door and called again.
“Grev, I’m so worried about him. I’ve known him such a short time that it’s hard to guess where he might have gone, except to his meeting, that is.”
“I don’t like this at all,” Grev said grimly. “I think we’d better check everywhere before it gets dark. Closets, basement, shed, everywhere. You take the inside, I’ll do the basement and outside.”
“I wish we could check the attic. Maybe he found a way up there and couldn’t get down. Or perhaps someone put him up there.”
“If I find a long ladder, I promise I’ll look through a window.”
As soon as he went outside, Kate quietly opened the closet door and eased through to the Indian room.
“Percy,” she whispered. “Percy, are you in here?” There was no answer, and the room seemed to be exactly as she had left it. She quickly scanned the room for a trunk resembling the one Grev had mentioned. It wasn’t there.
She continued her search of the rest of the house, half afraid of what she might find. But she found nothing—nothing to either allay or confirm her worst fears.
Chapter 15
Grev returned looking somberly disturbed. “It doesn’t make sense. Why should he have left the house of his own volition? Yet there’s no sign here of any struggle or disturbance. There’s no trace of him outside. A man can’t simply disappear.”
“I know, it’s just ridiculous,” she said. “I can’t help feeling that the Morgans know something about it. They’ve been so evasive today. Although I can’t think what they’d want with Mr. Peters, I’m sure that they know something.”
Grev busied himself rebuilding fires, a lock of sandy hair dangling on his brow. His blue eyes were distracted and troubled as he restlessly prowled the house, looking searchingly from each window.
“He’ll be okay, don’t worry so.” Kate tried to encourage him. It depressed her to see him so low. “There will be a perfectly logical explanation and we’ll laugh about it later. And if he doesn’t have a good excuse for frightening us, I’ll take him over my knee and spank him!”
Grev grinned wryly but could offer no further ideas other than to wait as patiently as possible and see what turned up.
They wandered through the house, finding it hard to settle down. Kate pointed out the vast divergence in the selection of reading material, china patterns, furnishings, and paintings. “It disturbs me, for some peculiar reason. We’ve handled so many houses this past year and each one seemed to give such a clear picture of the occupant’s personality. But this one—this one is a muddle that leaves me only with a vague confusion.”
“I can see what you mean. The pieces of the picture simply don’t fit together. Anyway, it doesn’t add up to a personality profile of any type. Oh, where is that man? I’m getting as edgy as you were the night I came. I’m beginning to understand.”
“If he went exploring the island, he’ll surely return any time now. It’s nearly dark,” Kate said as she began to light the lamps. “On top of everything else, it’s beginning to look stormy. It wouldn’t be the safest trip back to the mainland in a small boat now.”
“His blessed meeting is the last thing I’m worrying about,” Grev said. “It’s Percival Peters himself that I’m concerned with. He’s a very wealthy man.”
“Oh, surely he wouldn’t have been kidnapped,” Kate interjected. “And besides, no one on the island would know that he is rich.”
“Yes, who would know? We always come back to more questions. I’ll tell you one thing: I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if a brick with a ransom note tied to it came hurling through the window.”
Kate shivered convulsively. “At least then we’d know what was going on. Why doesn’t something happen?”
Grev brewed a large pot of coffee. “Drink up, lassie, methinks it’s going to be a long, long night.”
Kate accepted the steaming mug gratefully. She felt chilled and tired, her energy at an all-time low. “One good thing, you know, is that for Mr. Peters to have the reputation and wealth that he is reputed to have, he must be a deceptively clever man. So whatever predicament he’s in, he must be handling it competently.”
“Mmm... I suppose that’s true, but he really doesn’t seem too shrewd or cunning, does he?”
“No,” Kate had to admit. “He’s more like a little boy. A very vulnerable, naive little boy at that.” Her depression deepened as she sat idly sipping her coffee.
“What was that?” Grev asked, suddenly alert.
Kate listened intently. “I’m certain it came from the attic. Something moving.”
“Oh, it must be squirrels then,” he said, settling back on the sofa.
“Oh, Grev. Stop it about squirrels. There has to be access to the attic.”
“I know you’re disappointed, but there isn’t. There’s no ladder and even if there was, I wouldn’t be able to see anything now that it’s dark. The windows aren’t the type that open and none have been broken, so there’s no way that Percy could have been spirited into the attic.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”
“Kate, what do you expect me to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sorry,” she said tiredly, knowing that his temper was becoming frayed.
She let her head fall back and closed her eyes to discourage further conversation until they felt more level-headed. She grew sleepy and was ashamed that she could relax when something terrible might have happened to Mr. Peters. She straightened up and pinched her cheeks.
“Kate, you look so tired. You have a rest and keep one ear open for whomever might come. I’ll go down to the village again and talk to everyone, just to make sure that he wasn’t taken back to the mainland. Someone may have stopped by who was leaving immediately and he might just have decided to go. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
The Secret of Bourke's Mansion Page 11