Second Sight

by Philip R. Craig

  Her anger went away. She’d been rich and famous long enough to know that those attributes made her and her daughter targets.

  “All right. Do you know what’s happening? Do you know what happened to Hale or what he’s doing?”

  “All I have are some guesses. Let’s lock this place up and get going.”

  We did that and I drove out to the highway. Marty, the young cop, had again pulled the detail at the end of the driveway, but I didn’t think he had the authority to put a guard at the house, so I just waved as we passed by and took a right toward Edgartown. A quarter of a mile along the highway a narrow, sandy road led off to the south. I took it and followed it, first through oak and pine, then across mostly overgrown onetime fields, then across marshy grasslands, and finally out onto the point of land where the lane hooked left and ended at a small beach.

  The pond was visible on both sides of the woods that covered the point. The distant houses I’d seen from the barrier beach were closer now but still well to the east. To the west, over the marsh grasses, the Carberg house was clearly in view.

  I parked and we got out.

  “Wait for me on the beach,” I said. “If you see anybody, sing out.”

  “All right.” Evangeline took Janie’s hand and they walked toward the little beach.

  I studied the terrain, then made my way back to a clump of trees on the west side of road. There I was not surprised to see fresh tire tracks where a vehicle had pulled off and parked, hidden from view from the Carberg house. There were shoe prints in the dust leading to and from the point of land.

  I followed the prints into the woods until I came to a sheltered spot that offered a particularly good view of the house. There I found an empty soft drink can and half a dozen cigarette butts on the ground. The watcher was the careless type. I picked up the can with my handkerchief, put a couple of the butts in with it, then went back to the beach.

  “Well?” asked Evangeline.

  I told her what I’d seen, then said, “What I think happened is that whoever was watching the house saw Hale and Janie come this way in the canoe and went out to the point to meet them or maybe to intercept them. But Hale didn’t land here; he went to the barrier beach instead. Later, when he was bird-watching with his binoculars, he saw somebody on the point, maybe somebody who was watching him and Janie, so he came to see what was going on.”

  “Who could it have been? What happened when Hale got here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. But I had a bad feeling. “I’m going to take you away from here. We’ll go to my place first. I can’t put you up there because our guest room is already taken, but I have friends who own a big old farmhouse. I’ll give them a call. I’m pretty sure they have a couple of empty rooms where you can spend the night. No one will know you’re there.”

  We got into the Explorer and I started driving.

  “You’re going to a lot of trouble,” said Evangeline. She didn’t sound happy.

  “I’m getting paid to tend to trouble. What do you know about Hale Drummand?”

  Fire reappeared in her voice. “I could wring his neck, I know that!”

  “That’s just your anger talking. How long has he been with you? Where did you find him?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “When I knew I was coming here, my people in Scotland got in touch with an agency in Boston that handles security matters. Thornberry International. Hale is one of their agents. I needed somebody who was good with children, and until today Hale has done his job very well.”

  “I know Thornberry. He runs a good outfit. If Drummand works for them, he can be trusted.”

  When I turned down our sandy driveway, I said, “My wife and kids should be home. My wife is Zee and the kids are Joshua and Diana. You two can stay here while I phone John and Mattie Skye. John teaches at Weststock College. You’ll like them.”

  “I feel like a fugitive.”

  I tried to lighten the mood: “Well, the witness protection program this ain’t, but you’ll be comfortable enough.”

  Zee’s Jeep was parked in the yard, but my old Land Cruiser was not, indicating that Brady had taken it out looking for Christa.

  As we got out of the car, my children came running around the corner of the house and skidded to a stop as they took in Janie and her mother.

  I introduced everyone to everyone. Janie and Diana were of a size. The children eyed each other.

  “How are things in the tree house?” I asked.

  Joshua deemed that was a proper question. “Good, Pa. We have lemonade up there. You want to come and drink some with us? We have paper cups and cookies.”

  “I have to make a telephone call and I want to introduce Mrs. Price to your mother. Maybe Janie would like a look at the tree house.”

  “You want to see it?” Diana asked Janie.

  Janie looked up at her mother then back at Diana. “Okay,” she said.

  The three children skipped around the house and out of sight.

  “A tree house sounds dangerous,” said Evangeline.

  “They’ll be all right. So far nobody’s broken any bones falling out of the tree.”

  “I worry. She’s my only child.”

  “All parents worry. Yours did, too.”

  “How well I know. And they had reason!” She seemed to loosen up, remembering.

  “If you want, I’ll go out and cancel the visit.”

  But she shook her head. “No. Let them go. I’m sure Janie will be all right.”

  “Come on inside, then.”

  When Zee and Evangeline met I was struck by the vivid contrast between Zee’s dark beauty and Evangeline’s pale blonde splendor.

  “Zee, this is Ethel Price. Ethel, this is my wife, Zee.”

  Some feminine evaluations filled the room, and both of them seemed amused by it.

  “Very nice to meet you, Ethel,” said Zee with a smile. “Jeff and I usually have a cocktail on the balcony about now. Will you join us?”

  “I’ll take a glass of white wine, if you have it.”

  “White wine is what the good ladies in the soap operas drink,” I said. “You two go up and I’ll bring the booze.”

  They climbed the wooden stairs and I got drinks and snacks, put them on a tray, and carried everything to the balcony. There, Zee and Evangeline were sitting and chatting easily while watching their children play in the tree house in the giant beech at the rear of the yard.

  “I’ll be back,” I said. “I have to make a couple of phone calls.”

  I used the bedroom phone and called the Skyes. Mattie answered, and I told her what I needed.

  Mattie had two college-age daughters, and it took a lot to rattle her. “Evangeline and her daughter here for the night? Sure. But I may have to go buy some smelling salts to revive the twins.”

  “You’re a sweetheart. And I’d just as soon no one knows about this.”

  “Keeping such a secret might cost the girls a few burst blood vessels, but I think they can manage it for Evangeline’s sake. It’ll be something like dying heroically for your country.

  “Why don’t you bring the two of them over right now. I’ll have John toss a couple extra burgers on the grill, and we can all size each other up. Maybe Janie would like to take a look at the twins’ horses before dark. Girls are usually crazy about horses.”

  “We’ll be there as soon as we finish this round of cocktails.”

  I hung up and called the number at the bottom of the ID that Jake Spitz had given me. I got an answering machine. I hung up again and called the Edgartown police station. The chief was out, but Kit Goulart, the officer at the desk, gave me a phone number for Jake Spitz. It was the same one I’d just called. I called it again and told the machine that I needed to talk with Jake ASAP.

  Then I went up onto the balcony and joined the ladies. They seemed to be hitting it off, as did the children out in the tree house. I was glad.

  When our glasses were empty, we rounded up Janie, who was
reluctant to abandon her new playmates so soon, and I took her and her mother to the Skyes’ place, where Mattie, John, and the twins welcomed Mrs. Price and her daughter to the farm.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” I said to Evangeline. “You’ll be safe here.”

  I hoped I was right.

  When I got home, my rusty Land Cruiser was parked beside Zee’s Jeep. I got myself another drink, and followed the sounds of voices and laughter up to the balcony, where I found Brady Coyne having cocktails with my wife.

  I shook his hand. “What’s new in the lawyer biz?”

  “I’ve had a busy day,” he replied.

  “Me, too. We can trade tales. You go first.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brady

  “You really want to talk business?” I said to J.W. He shrugged. “I figured you’d want to.”

  I held up my martini. “In due course.”

  The Jacksons’ balcony looked out at the salt pond and, beyond it, Nantucket Sound. The sky toward the east was darkening and the ocean looked flat and purple. A gang of swallows were chasing mosquitoes around the yard, and a couple of half-grown cottontails were hopping on the lawn, approaching dangerously close to Zee’s vegetable garden.

  “What’s your secret?” I said, holding up my glass. I’m not normally a martini guy, but J.W. made excellent ones.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “I tell you, you tell the bartender at the Ritz, next thing you know it won’t be a secret.”

  “I don’t know the bartender at the Ritz.”

  Zee laughed. “He won’t even tell me. Says he’s going to bequeath the recipe to Joshua. But not Diana. It’s a guy thing, he says. Seems to me, everything’s a guy thing.”

  “At least tell me whether you stir or shake.”

  J.W. shook his head. “Can’t say. There’s a woman present.” He refilled all of our glasses from the pitcher. “You feel like talking about your day?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I damn near had my fortune told.”

  “I wouldn’t’ve taken you for a believer,” said Zee.

  “I’m not,” I said. “It’s silly. Thing is, I think she was seeing—or hearing, or smelling, or whatever she does—she was seeing something. About me, I mean. It was actually a little spooky. I told her not to tell me. I can’t imagine knowing what my fate is, you know?”

  Zee laughed. “If you feel that way, it means you do believe in it. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t care if she told you.”

  “She got you there, pal,” said J.W.

  I shrugged. “Point is, I was interested in what she might conjure up about Christa. I showed her the picture. She saw bright lights and explosions and chaos and a big eye in the sky, or some damn thing, watching it all, and—how did she say it?—and spirits colliding.”

  “What do you make of that?” said Zee.

  “Nothing. Like I said, I don’t believe in it. It was…interesting, that’s all.” I held up my half-empty martini glass. “You don’t shake a good martini, I know that much. Ice cubes colliding with each other chips them. Melted ice dilutes the vodka. This is definitely not watered down.” I arched my eyebrows at J.W.

  “Flattery’ll get you nowhere,” he said.

  I handed J.W. Christa’s picture. “Don’t suppose you’ve run into her in your travels?”

  He frowned at it, closed his eyes for a minute, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “There’s something familiar about her, but it’s probably some face I’ve seen on TV or something.” He squinted at the picture again, then put it down on the table. “The problem, of course, is that lots of people look like lots of other people. I’ll keep an eye out for this girl in my travels with the singer.”

  “And how are the travels with the singer going?” I said.

  J.W. rolled his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Sure I do. It’ll give us an excuse to have one more refill.” I handed him my glass.

  He gave us all refills. Then he told me about his adventures with Evangeline.

  When he finished, Zee turned to me and said, “See, Brady, I knew it sounded too good to be true. Tooling around the island in a nice new air-conditioned car. Showing the visiting celebrity the sights. No danger. Cushy work. Easy money. Ha! My instinct was to refuse to let him do it.”

  “But when you found out it was Evangeline,” said J.W., “you changed your tune.”

  “I should’ve trusted my instincts,” she said. “Always trust your instincts. My mother taught me that.”

  “Wise woman, your mother,” said J.W.

  The next morning I woke up with a nervous, acid feeling in my stomach, as if something was going to happen if I didn’t do something about it. The fact that I had no idea what might happen or what I should do made the feeling worse. I attributed it to Princess Ishewa and her damn clairvoyance. I never should’ve gone within a mile of her shop.

  I was itchy to get going. I told J.W. my plan for the day, such as it was, and he told me his. Then I climbed into his ancient Land Cruiser, drove down to the harbor in Edgartown, and had breakfast at the Dock Street Café.

  On an island with scores of excellent eateries, the Dock Street Café was the one I liked the best. As well as I could determine, they served breakfast all day and night. It seemed to be a gathering place for locals. It was always noisy, with people walking around talking to other people, but if you wanted to prop your newspaper up in front of you and read about the Red Sox, nobody bothered you.

  I sat at the counter and had three over-easy eggs on top of corned beef hash, with home fries and wheat toast and a big glass of orange juice. A breakfast intended to get me through the whole day.

  When I finished, the waitress took away my dishes, then came back to refill my coffee mug. She looked about twenty. She had brown hair and brown eyes and olive skin and a quick smile. Her name tag said KATE.

  “Kate,” I said to her, “can I bother you for a minute?”

  She glanced around the café. “A minute, I guess.”

  “I wonder if you’ve seen this girl.” I put Christa’s picture on the counter.

  Kate glanced at it, narrowed her eyes, then shook her head. “I’m terrible at faces. I might’ve seen her. She looks like lots of people. I don’t know her, I can tell you that.”

  “Do you go to parties, hang out with the young people down here?”

  “Sure.”

  “If I gave you this picture, would you keep an eye out for her and let me know if you see her?”

  She frowned. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what you want with her.”

  “If I told you, would you believe me?”

  She looked at me for a moment. “Why should I?”

  I fished out one of my business cards and handed it to her. “I’m a lawyer.”

  She smiled. “And that makes you trustworthy?”

  “Touché,” I said. I tapped Christa’s picture. “This girl ran away two years ago. Her parents want me to find her. Her father’s dying, and I hope to talk her into going home to see him.”

  “Oh, man,” she said. “That sucks big-time.” She peered at me. “That’s the truth?”

  “It is,” I said. “Honest.”

  “You’re not like a cop or something?”

  “No. Her name is Christa Doyle, and she’s eighteen years old. She’s committed no crime, unless you count breaking her mother’s and father’s hearts. I just want to talk with her.” I wrote Christa’s name and the Jacksons’ phone number on the back of the picture and pushed it toward her. “Keep this. If you see her, please don’t say anything about this to her. Just call me.” I hesitated. “There’s a reward.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Five hundred dollars if you spot her and help me find her and I get to talk with her.”

  “What if I see her but you can’t find her and talk to her.”

  I shook my head. “No deal. You could tell me anything.”

/>   She stuck out her lower lip and pretended to pout. “You don’t trust me?”

  “Five hundred bucks is a lot of money.”

  At that moment, another waitress came over and said, “Hey, Katie. Let’s go, huh?”

  Kate took Christa’s picture, folded it twice, and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “They’re yelling at me.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I left Kate a big tip and walked out of the Dock Street Café smiling. A reward. Brilliant, Coyne. Offering Kate a reward had come out of my mouth without, as far as I could tell, passing through my brain. But now that I thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. If it led me to Christa, five hundred dollars would be a bargain.

  My plan, if you could call it that, was to spend this Monday covering as much of the three easternmost towns on the Vineyard—Edgartown, Oak Bluffs, and Vineyard Haven—as I could, although I wasn’t exactly sure what “covering” meant. I figured I’d walk up and down the streets, go into any business establishments that struck me as places that might attract people like Christa, study as many faces as I could, leave her picture with likely people, repeat the reward offer, and see what happened. Putting in the hours. Thrashing around.

  If nothing flew out of the bushes today, I’d start prowling around the other parts of the island, and I’d keep prowling and thrashing and looking at faces and talking to people until something happened. The Celebration for Humanity was scheduled for Friday and Saturday nights, and if I hadn’t found Christa before then, that would be a good place to look for her. I figured J.W. could get me in.

  I spent the rest of the morning in Edgartown. I talked to shop owners, restaurant hostesses, real estate brokers, gas station attendants. I dropped into clothing stores and gift shops and bookstores. In three or four hours, I found nobody who thought they’d seen Christa Doyle.