Westin Family Ties

by Alice Sharpe

  “I just received solid information that Cassie was seen at the home of a local woman four months ago,” Smyth said. “The lead was a little late coming because the woman who stole your wife’s things lied about when and where she stole them. Since the DA struck a deal with her, she swears the theft took place in Coeur d’Alene, so I looked harder at Cassie’s background. Turns out her older cousin graduated from a very small high school and one of the cousin’s closest friends married and settled here.”

  “You talked to Lisa about Cassie? She won’t answer any of my phone calls or emails.”

  “I didn’t talk to her. I snooped around behind her back. It’s what you pay me for. Anyway, the friend’s name is Emma Kruger, who employs a cleaning service. One of the women on the team that cleans the Kruger house swears she saw Cassie in a car with Emma Kruger. This is the address.”

  He slid a piece of paper across the table and Cody picked it up. This was his first time in Coeur d’Alene, so the street address meant nothing to him but the timing did. “So as of a few months ago, and well after the theft of her identity, Cassie was alive.”

  “It looks that way,” Smyth said. “We’ll know in a few minutes when we drive out there and talk to Emma Kruger and make sure this isn’t another red herring.”

  Cody pocketed the paper. “I’m going to handle this myself,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” Smyth didn’t sound too surprised.

  Cody nodded once as he took from his pocket a cashier’s check made out to the investigator. “This is the end of the line for me. If Cassie is alive and still avoiding me, then it’s time to call it quits. I need to put my energy back into our ranch. My father and brothers need me there. They’ve covered for me enough.”

  The detective took the check, looked at it and then folded it in thirds. “If you find her, what then?”

  “I just want to know what happened,” Cody said, but internally, he was enough of a man to wince. You know what happened, he told himself. You know why she left you.

  Wishing he was already back in Wyoming tending to business, he got to his feet and picked up his hat. He started to take out his wallet to pay for the late lunch, but Smyth held up a hand. “It’s on me. Good luck, Mr. Westin.”

  EMMA KRUGER TURNED OUT to live in a very large, very white lakeside home complete with its own pier, dockage and what appeared to be a sunning island accessible by a walkway. Cody glimpsed this from the road that curved around an inlet of the lake. The driveway itself emptied out in front of the house, where a black BMW was parked in front of a closed garage. At four o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, the only sign of life was a gray-and-white cat stalking a bird on a patch of grass.

  He rang the bell and waited for a minute or so until he heard running footsteps and the door opened. A woman a few years younger than himself stood there panting. She wore black leggings and a purple racer back tank. A stretchy band circled her forehead and kept wispy strands of brown hair from getting in her eyes.

  “You caught me midworkout,” she said a little breathlessly. “What can I do for you?”

  Subtlety wasn’t in Cody’s nature. He took off his hat and produced what he hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “I’m trying to locate my wife. I was told you might be able to help me.”

  The woman looked puzzled. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you. Oh, wait, are you one of Nathan’s football coaches? Laci’s husband, maybe?”

  “No, Ma’am. My name is Cody. My wife is Cassie Westin. Cassandra. You were a good friend of Cassie’s cousin, Lisa Davis, back in high school. I have a photograph—”

  Her thin lips compressed. “I don’t know any of those people,” Emma said, and started to close the door.

  He caught it in one hand. “I don’t know what Cassie told you about me and I guess I don’t care. I am simply what you see here in front of you. A slightly burned-out cowboy who wants to wrap this thing up and go home to his dog and ranch where he belongs. Any help you can give me will be deeply appreciated.”

  Emma looked into his eyes, started to shake her head, then seemed to reconsider. She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. “I have a napping toddler inside, and I need to go pick Nathan up from football practice in about twenty minutes,” she said, as she folded her arms across her chest. “The truth is I promised Cassie I would never, ever tell you where she is but I’ve been worried about her, so I’m breaking my promise.”

  The first flush of joy at finally having a solid lead evaporated and he stepped closer. “What do you mean you’ve been worried about her?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she tilted her head and stared at him. “You still care about her, don’t you?”

  “You want the truth? After six months of being yanked around, I’m not sure how I feel except she’s legally my wife and I don’t want to see any harm come to her.”

  “Fair enough,” Emma said. “Okay, this is what I know. Cassie was really strung out when she got here. Someone had stolen her old clunker with her purse and suitcase in the truck, which meant she lost all her clothes and ID and she didn’t want to go to the police. I guess she remembered Lisa telling her I lived here now, so she managed to scrape enough together to call Lisa, and Lisa called me, and I went into town and got her and brought her back to the house.”

  “And this was when?”

  “About four or five months ago. School had just let out for the summer. Cassie stayed with us a few days but she was restless. She wanted a job, she wanted a life.”

  “She had a life back in Woodwind, with me,” Cody said, and wished he hadn’t. He shook his head. “Don’t mind me, I’m just kind of perplexed about all this.”

  “Well, what I’m about to say isn’t going to help that much. See, my mother has a distant relative who has a great-aunt, and that great-aunt has a friend who lives in a small town outside of Idaho Falls,” Emma continued. “The old woman was looking for a live-in aide because she doesn’t walk much anymore. She’s quite elderly, but I gather she has more money than she could spend in fifteen lifetimes and intends to live out her days in her mansion. Other relatives live there, too, but the old lady wanted some independence from them. Mom’s friend made a few calls and Cassie got the job. I drove her there myself.”

  “That was nice of you,” Cody said woodenly. He took a look around him. This was as close to Cassie as he’d been in months, but it all had a terrible sense of unreality to it. “So, why do you say you’re worried now?”

  “Because we worked out that she would call here once a week. Lisa asked her to do that so they didn’t lose touch, especially now, and she thought it would be better to go through me because Lisa is out of the country on work-related trips so often, and Lord knows with two kids, I’m never gone, never. So Cassie just calls and says, ‘I’m fine,’ or something like that. We agreed I wouldn’t call her.”

  “And?”

  “And Cassie didn’t call this week. So that’s why I’m telling you now where she is. Lisa is in South America for weeks and weeks, so she’s no help.” She bit her lip before adding, “You know, Cassie never said a mean word about you, and she didn’t act like she’d been abused or anything. I’m going to go inside and get you the address. If she’s really mad when you show up, tell her I wouldn’t have broken my word except I’m worried about her. You know, considering everything.”

  Without waiting for his response, she slipped back inside the house. Five minutes later she returned, this time with a yawning toddler in her arms and a purse slung over her shoulder. The door clicked shut with a security beep as she handed him what appeared to be her husband’s business card. Greg Kruger, M.D.; a hastily written name and address on the other side of the card was of more interest to Cody:

  Vera Priestly

  210 Riverside Drive

  Cherrydell, Idaho

  Chapter Two

  Cody arrived in Cherrydell too late to do anything more than drive through a relatively small community built on a river. The downtown
area was old but gave the impression it might have become something of a tourist destination with restaurants, boutiques and salons dotting the streets. He made his way to the house where Cassie had apparently spent the past few weeks.

  Towering and dark, surrounded by huge trees, the gingerbread Victorian nestled on what appeared to be a half acre of fenced property right on the edge of a river. The rest of the neighborhood was equally scenic, though none of the surrounding houses had such large lots or were half as big.

  He drove past twice, wondering if Cassie was in there, wishing it wasn’t too late to ring the bell. For a second or two he thought about rousing the household anyway, demanding to see his wife, but he knew he wouldn’t do it. Showing up on Cassie’s doorstep was going to catch her off guard and no doubt create a scene. Stuff like that was best left for the light of day.

  He found himself a motel room a few blocks away and tried reading, but it was no good; the words of the novel barely imprinted themselves on his brain. He finally turned off the light, but then he found himself checking the glowing numbers on the bedside clock every few minutes.

  Why hadn’t Cassie checked in with Emma Kruger? The obvious answer was Cassie’s cousin Lisa got wind a detective was asking questions about her. Lisa could have alerted Cassie directly before leaving for South America. If that happened, Cassie would already be gone and he’d be too late.

  He awoke at eleven the next morning and bolted out of bed like a horse with a burr under its saddle, appalled he’d overslept on this of all mornings. He took a shower and put on clean clothes while drinking a cup of the coffee he made in his own room. The motel coffee made the stuff he brewed in a pan over a campfire taste like gourmet.

  He paused as he picked up the small black box that he’d been carrying in his pocket. Popping open the lid, he studied the contents for a moment, then snapped the lid shut. Leaving it on the dresser, he went back for it at the last moment and slipped it in with his loose change. It wasn’t a bribe, it was a promise. All he had to do was find Cassie.

  Back in the truck, he drove to the house again.

  What a difference a few hours made.

  The driveway and street on both sides were now jammed with cars. A few people could be seen standing out on the large porch—they appeared to be smokers relegated to the chill of October to feed their habit.

  Cody found a parking spot a few blocks away and walked back to the house. He looked the place over as he threaded his way between the parked cars in the driveway. It had to cost a fortune to keep a mansion like this one operating, but there were signs maintenance had slipped. The house needed painting, for instance. Plants had overgrown the landscaper’s original vision and weeds grew in the sidewalk cracks.

  There were two smokers on the front porch and they both nodded at him. As he climbed the short flight of stairs, the front door opened and a woman and man came out. The man held the door open for Cody so Cody decided to go with the flow.

  The inside of the house gave the same impression as the outside: elegance and expense slightly worn around the edges. The foyer was crowded with people dressed in dark colors, all holding something to eat or drink, all ignoring him after a cursory glance. By the preponderance of dark clothes and hushed conversations, Cody thought it pretty likely somebody had died.

  The motel coffee burned his gut like cheap whiskey. Please don’t let it be Cassie. Anything but that. He chose a man standing alone to sidle up to. “Excuse me. Do you know—”

  “Emerson and Victoria are in the parlor,” the man said, moving off to talk to a woman who had motioned to him. Cody had no idea who Emerson and Victoria might be, but guessing they were connected with this house in some way, he moved in the indicated direction, entering another equally crowded room.

  Through the sea of bodies, he spotted an athletic-looking middle-aged woman seated on a brocaded sofa, her graying hair falling softly over her forehead. She was surrounded by other women, one of whom patted her hand. A man of about the same vintage stood off by a window, alone.

  There was something about the two that linked them in Cody’s mind, a certain air of aloofness mixed with privilege. They were extremely well-dressed in tailored dark suits, their grooming beyond reproach. Both looked like they spent a lot of time on a tennis court or golf course.

  A uniformed woman wearing an apron and carrying a tray, asked if he would like a canapé and started naming the offerings in a broad Cockney accent.

  “No thanks,” he interrupted, adding quickly, “Do you know the woman who owns this house? Her name is Vera Priestly.”

  “Know her? Oh, you mean, did I know her,” she said. “I worked for her for five years, now, didn’t I? It’s shocking what happened to her.”

  “What exactly happened?” he asked.

  She cocked her head to one side as her voice fell to an ominous hush. “You don’t know? Oh, now, mister, it’s terrible. Mrs. Priestly weren’t all fur coats and no knickers, if you take my meaning. She was a lady through and through. You ask me it was that new girl who took over for me. Run me out of a posh job, she did, and her being all—”

  “Bridget? I think some of our other guests may need attention,” the man Cody had noticed by the window said. He’d approached so quietly he caught both the maid and Cody off guard. The maid immediately dipped her head and scurried off. The man looked down his patrician nose at Cody, which wasn’t easy as Cody was easily five or six inches taller. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize you,” he said. “I’m Emerson Banner. Exactly how did you know my mother-in-law?”

  Up close, Banner’s face was crisscrossed with fine lines, his eyes were a pale, icy blue and his chin was slightly receded. He was the kind of man that raised Cody’s hackles.

  “I didn’t know her,” Cody said, taking off his hat. He’d completely forgotten he had it on. “I just heard she passed away. I know this is a terrible time to bother you, but I’ve traveled a distance. I’m looking for my wife. Her name is Cassie—Cassandra, sometimes. I was told she was employed here to help care for an elderly lady named Vera Priestly. If Mrs. Priestly died recently then it figures Cassie will be out of work.” He’d been digging in his wallet as he spoke and offered a photograph of Cassie taken the year before.

  Emerson Banner glanced at it, did a double take, then glared at Cody. The old saying If looks could kill… flashed through Cody’s mind.

  “I think you’d better leave,” Banner said, his voice as cold as Rocky Mountain snow. He tossed a surreptitious glance at the woman on the couch. Her gaze met his and she furrowed her brow.

  “I’ll be happy to go,” Cody said. “Lord knows I’m needed in Wyoming a lot more than I’m needed here. Just tell me where Cassie is.”

  Banner’s voice took on a vicious undertone. “Have you no decency?” he hissed. “This is Vera’s wake, of all things, and you have the audacity to barge in here.” He grabbed Cody’s elbow and maneuvered him through the crowd.

  A younger guy with a pleasant smile intercepted them. “Dad? Is there a problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle, Robert. Do me a favor and find your sister. Have her go sit with your mother, okay?” The next thing Cody knew, he was ushered out the front door.

  While he couldn’t begin to fathom what had brought on this reaction, he hadn’t put up a fuss because people inside were grieving. But the front porch was empty now and he’d had about enough. He tore his arm away from Banner’s grip and stared down at the older man.

  “Where in the hell is my wife, and don’t bother saying you don’t know her because it’s obvious you do. What’s going on?”

  Banner straightened his shoulders. “The woman you claim is your wife presented herself to us as Laura Green. I was very much against hiring her as Vera’s caregiver. The girl was not bonded nor did she have experience or references, but Vera could dig in her heels when she wanted and she was determined to help this girl out. She’d heard about her from a friend of a friend—your typical hard-luck story. Totally inappropria
te.

  “It turns out my suspicions of her were right on the money. We caught Laura or Cassie or whoever she is trying to run off with my mother-in-law’s jewelry yesterday. And today we find there are several additional pieces missing. Who knows how much is gone? The police—”

  “Where is Cassie?” Cody interrupted.

  “She took off in a cab that dropped her at a bus station. No one saw her after that, but trust me, the police are looking.”

  Cody couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “And not just for theft,” Banner added with a tight little satisfied smile.

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Vera altered her will right before she was killed,” Banner said. “She bequeathed one-fourth of her assets, which amounts to over a million dollars, to your wife. She even included a phrase that covered the fact your wife was using an assumed name. If any of the others contest it, they lose their share. How do you imagine that came about?”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “No it doesn’t. And that was just hours before someone broke into Vera’s room in the middle of the night and smothered her during a robbery attempt. For all I know, you were part of it, too.”

  “Listen, mister,” Cody said, stepping close and lowering his voice. “There’s such a thing as slander, you know. Unless you have proof, you’d better watch your mouth. You said my wife was caught stealing jewelry? If she knew she was inheriting money, why would she bother? You don’t make any sense. I can’t believe we’re even talking about the same woman.”

  “Though there are obvious differences now, as I’m sure you’re aware, the woman in the photo you carry and the woman calling herself Laura Green are either identical twins or the same person. I am not mistaken. Now, please leave before I call the police. On second thought, that’s not a bad idea. What did you say your last name is?”