Storm of Secrets

by Loretta Marion

  “From what I witnessed yesterday,” I told them, “there’s trouble in that marriage.”

  Daniel nodded his agreement. He munched on a crisp slice of bacon before asking me, “Have you had a chance to spend any time with Christopher Savage?”

  “Not really. How about you guys?” I asked Laura and Jason. “His beach cottage is next to yours.”

  “He hasn’t been there all that long. Maybe a month?” Laura said. “He was my canvassing partner yesterday. That was the most time we’ve ever spent together. He’s pretty quiet.”

  “A bit of a loner,” Jason agreed. “He took the sailboat out every morning. Walked his dog. Other than that, we rarely saw him. Why do you ask?”

  “The Kleisters mentioned that Nicholas has been spending time with him. Helene has been allowing Nicholas to go as far as Christopher’s beach cottage alone.”

  “Now that I’m thinking about it”—Laura made a face—“I did see Christopher fishing with a little boy a few days ago. At the time, I just assumed it was a relative, but it could have been Nicholas.”

  “Apparently this Kleister woman is no helicopter mom.” I added my two cents. “That’s a long way and a lot of autonomy for a six-year-old.”

  “His father would agree with you,” Daniel said. “He’s made some offhand comments about his wife being too cavalier with the boys. She even let Nicholas go out alone sailing with Savage one day. She defended the decision because she was able to see the sailboat from the deck of her house.”

  “A little too trusting, I’d say.” I wanted to give Helene the benefit of the doubt, but how could she just assume Christopher was trustworthy? “Not only was Christopher a virtual stranger to them, but he wasn’t even someone well connected to Whale Rock.”

  Following those thoughts, Jason managed between bites, “Brooks asked me to do some checking on Savage’s background.”

  “You should talk with Edgar and Jimmy since they’ve been rooming with him the past two days,” I suggested.

  “Edgar is nothing if not observant,” Laura agreed.

  “I’m guessing there’s been no progress on the Lee Chambers case?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “All resources are devoted to searching for Lucas,” Jason said. “However, we did get a lead from someone who thinks they saw Chambers in town the day before the body was found.”

  “Who could miss that platinum blond hair?” It slipped out before I realized my mistake. I wasn’t supposed to have been there when the body was removed from the dumpster. Fortunately, Jason hadn’t picked up on it, and Daniel was checking his phone for messages. I rushed to cover my slip by asking Laura, “What are you doing today?”

  “More canvassing, plus I have an assignment for the Times.” She turned to Jason, “Can you ride in with Daniel?”

  “I can give you a lift,” Daniel said, tucking his phone in his pocket.

  Jason gave his wife an appraising look. “You look a little green. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m just tired,” Laura assured him.

  “Maybe because you’ve been up at the crack of dawn every day this week?” Then to Daniel and me, “Usually I have to drag her out of bed.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” she told him, giving him a slight push toward the door. “Worry about finding that little boy.”

  He kissed the top of her head and said, “I can do both.”

  I envied the easy loving way they had with each other. Perhaps sensing something in the way I watched Laura and Jason, Daniel sidled up to me and asked, “You okay?”

  “It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. We could all use one.”

  “Maybe you should go back to bed for a little while,” he suggested. “It’s still early.”

  “Would you?” I placed my hands firmly on my hips. “I need to be out there helping. Edgar, Jimmy, and I have more food to deliver. The Congregational Church is putting care packages together, so we’re going to help with those.”

  “Okay, I get it. Just be careful. There will be road crews out, removing the fallen trees and branches. Probably some detours.”

  “Daniel, I’m the one who’s lived here all my life. If anyone can find their way around, it’s me.”

  He winked. “Thanks for reminding me. It’s your fault for making me feel so at home in Whale Rock.”

  “It is your home.”

  “My point exactly.” Before he left, he planted a kiss that did make me think about going back to bed, but not alone.

  After Jason and Daniel left, Laura turned to me and asked, “So tell me, Cassie, how is it that you know the victim had platinum hair?”

  Leave it to the cub reporter to catch my slip.

  “I doubt it’s a secret,” I said, defending myself. “Anybody who knew or saw this Lee Chambers guy would know his hair color.”

  “But you said you’d never seen the man.”

  “Fine.” I caved and admitted what I’d observed the day the body was found.

  “Did you notice anything else? What he was wearing?”

  “I had to get out of there quickly.” I tried to remember if there was anything else that stood out. “There was a ring on the ground near the dumpster that initially caught my attention, but it might not have any connection.”

  “What kind of ring?”

  “It was silver, but other than that? Don’t know. It was half-buried in the crushed-shelled alleyway. Before I got close enough for a good look, I saw the dead hand.” I shivered. “Try as I might, I cannot erase that image from my mind.”

  “Where’s the ring now?”

  “Brooks bagged it as evidence. I assume he turned it over to the forensics team. Look, he’d be livid if he knew I stuck around, let alone that I was telling you this.”

  “You can trust me.” She made a zipping gesture to her lips before grabbing her backpack and walking toward the door. “I’m just curious.”

  I had my doubts it was idle curiosity. More like stashing away details for a future article in the Times. But I had too much else to do to concern myself with Laura’s plans, and that included setting up a work space for my two helpers who would be here any moment.

  While waiting for Edgar and Jimmy to arrive, I found myself surrounded by the aroma of burning sugar, only it wasn’t the usual pleasant scent I welcomed. It was sharp and disagreeable, which had me worried. The last time the spirits of the house emitted such an unpleasant odor, it had signaled a medical emergency.

  “Please, not again,” I whispered.

  * * *

  What followed was a long, nonstop day. When Daniel and I finally made it to bed, we could barely speak let alone contemplate the notion of romance I’d longed for earlier in the day. Even if we hadn’t been exhausted, I doubt we’d have had the will, considering yet another day had passed with no signs of little Lucas Kleister. As tired as I was, sleep was elusive, with my thoughts painting unimaginable scenes of terror for the toddler. Had he been kidnapped? Had someone harmed him? Had he been washed away by the storm? It was all too much.

  9

  Renée

  New York ~ Mid-1980s

  Renée was buckled in beside Isabella in the Business Class section of the nonstop flight from JFK to Rome, eyes still red and swollen. She knew it would be difficult to leave her family behind, but the parting was more heart wrenching than she could have imagined. She hadn’t spent a single night away from her son since his birth six years earlier. Her husband had looked on with concern as the unstoppable tears flowed from both mother and son.

  “So, does your husband know about Vito and me now?” her sister asked.

  Renée flushed hot, but she wouldn’t lie to her sister. “There will be time for that later.”

  Isabella sent her a questioning look. “So what did you tell him?”

  “It’s a long story,” Renée said.

  “It is a long flight, is it not?”

  Renée nodded and ordered a Scotch to relax herself.

  * * *


  New York ~ Early 1970s

  Brandan Kane had been a godsend. Renée had met the emerging design artist shortly after escaping to New York City. With his studio located just a block away from her office job, they’d often run into each other at the nearby corner bistro, and quickly a friendship had ensued. Eventually, the two became nearly inseparable.

  “When are you going to move out of the Webster?” Brandan had asked over a shared tuna melt and fries.

  “Hey, I’m lucky to have found it,” Renée responded. The Webster was a private apartment building founded to provide affordable housing for unmarried working women, and she’d been grateful for the room when she first arrived.

  “But how much longer can you take Chatty Cathy?” he mocked, moving his hand like a beak. He’d heard plenty of complaints about her incessantly chatty roommate sucking the limited air supply from the tiny one-bedroom flat.

  Renée was desperate to breathe again, but until she found a better paying job, she was stuck at the Webster.

  “I’m waiting for you to become successful so you can rescue me from the typing pool,” she told him.

  “Well,” he said, smiling broadly, “I sold a collection this week.”

  “That’s wonderful, Brandan!” She was genuinely pleased. “It’s about time someone took notice.”

  “Soon I’ll be needing an assistant.” He raised his eyebrows expressively.

  His confidence was well placed. It wasn’t long before Brandan’s talents were being celebrated by Manhattan’s elite, and Renée had been lucky to go along for the exciting ride. Her role evolved from assistant to indispensable handler of his professional life, which expanded well beyond his art. The Brandan Kane Creations empire grew to include furniture and fabric design as well as complete home décor makeovers for select clients. Those few who could boast of having a Brandan Kane home paid prodigiously for the privilege.

  Renée now had assistants working for her and had even begun dabbling in design herself. The nightmare of her early life, though never completely forgotten, had faded more than a young immigrant girl could ever have dreamed.

  She grew to love Brandan, even having serious thoughts about a life together beyond their professional ties. However, what she’d seen as dating, he’d considered something far different. She’d been floored when Brandan finally admitted he was gay.

  “You certainly hide it well,” she told him, trying not to let her wounds show. Though he must have known how she felt about him.

  “I hoped you might have guessed.” He reached across the table to take her hand. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

  Renée wondered if Brandan had intentionally chosen Tavern on the Green for dinner that night. It was a popular dining spot for the art crowd, and there were frequent stops by friends and admirers to chat him up.

  Upon reflection, of course, there had been signs. But Renée had not wanted to acknowledge the truth. With no family and few friends, she’d become emotionally dependent on Brandan.

  “I will always watch out for you,” he told her. And he had been true to his word.

  Renée’s heartache had been short-lived. Meeting Michael had changed everything. It had been at an exhibit for Brandan where she first met her future husband. He later confessed to having purchased a painting only for the opportunity of seeing her again, though he’d also assumed there was more to the relationship between Renée and Brandan. Thus, it took Michael over a year to ask her out on a date. However, once together, their relationship quickly blossomed, and six months later they were wed. After years of trying, Renée finally became pregnant with their son. This new life made her believe in second chances.

  At her first opportunity after Isabella left, Renée had put in a frantic call to Brandan.

  “I need to go to Italy,” she told her friend.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandan asked.

  “My brother is very ill.”

  “You have a brother in Italy? How did I not know that?” He sounded hurt.

  “We’ve been estranged for years.” She paused a moment before adding, “Michael knows very little about my past.”

  “And you’d like to keep it that way?”

  “Yes.” She felt her face flush warm for admitting this. “For now. Look, my past is complicated … and now isn’t a good time to bring out all the skeletons.”

  “I get it.” Brandan had a few of those himself. “What do you need?”

  “A good reason to be in Italy.”

  Fortunately, he was able to locate a fabric design show in Rome as a convenient and plausible explanation for her need to fly out quickly.

  * * *

  Italy ~ Mid-1980s

  “This Brandan sounds like he’s been a brother to you.” There was a whisper of regret in Isabella’s tone.

  “He’s my best friend in the world.”

  When Renée and her sister landed in Rome, the two women had a much better understanding of what had been the steering force in each other’s lives since the day of their unfortunate parting fifteen years earlier. For Isabella it had been her faith and commitment to God. For Renée it had been a need to power forward without a rearview mirror.

  A driver was waiting at baggage claim to take them to where Vito now lived with his family. Both sisters had reasons, though differing, for feeling deep trepidation.

  10

  Cassandra

  The Bluffs ~ Present day

  “The gods have been kind.” Jimmy Collins raised his hands and lifted his head toward the skies in a dramatic pose. “Electricity is back on in Chatham.”

  Edgar and Jimmy had joined Daniel and me in the kitchen for one last cup of joe the next morning.

  “More important, let’s hope those gods have been kind to Alcyone.” They’d named their home in Chatham after a story in Greek mythology because of Jimmy’s fascination with mythological deities.

  “Tempestas can be temperamental.”

  “And which Greek god is Tempestas?” I asked, unfamiliar with the name.

  “Not a god, a goddess.” He waved a finger. “And not Greek, but Roman. Tempestas is the goddess of storms. There was a temple dedicated to her by some Roman leader several hundred years BC. When his fleet was caught in a bad storm, he prayed to Tempestas, and she delivered the ships safely back to Rome.”

  “That must be where the word tempestuous came from. I knew it had to have a feminine origin,” Daniel teased. I sent him a reproachful look, which prompted him to change the subject. “Now if only they could get the power back on in Whale Rock.”

  “It would make the search easier,” I agreed.

  “Once we check on Alcyone, we’d be happy to come back and help,” Edgar said.

  “Absolutely.” Jimmy nodded his agreement before suggesting, “Maybe Christopher can help deliver food today.”

  “Speaking of Mr. Savage, did Jason talk to you?” Daniel asked.

  “He did.” Edgar stirred sugar into his coffee. “A rather reticent man, at least with me. He opened up more with Jimmy. My husband can get anyone to talk.”

  “So, sue me—I have a gift.” Jimmy feigned indignation but went on to say, “He’s a New Yorker. First time to the Cape. He told me he’s a prep school history teacher, and he had a lot of questions about the area. Said he was looking for interesting stories for a class he’s preparing on New England history. We talked a little about First Encounter Beach and the Mayflower. Of course, I also invited him over to Chatham to see the Marconi Museum.”

  “Considering kids’ fascination with their smartphones and tablets, they could use a lesson in the history of the shortwave radio,” Daniel said. “The original wireless technology.”

  “If for no other reason than to help them appreciate what they have now,” Jimmy agreed.

  “He also seemed curious about Whale Rock’s history. Especially once Jimmy told him he was staying on the most significant property in Whale Rock.” Edgar was momentarily pensive. “I have the feeling Christopher
’s purpose for coming here goes beyond a conscientious teacher looking for ways to spice up his class.”

  “How so?” Daniel asked.

  “Nothing concrete. Just an impression.”

  “He has spent time at the library doing his research,” Jimmy said. “Maybe the librarian could give you an idea of what he’s been looking at.”

  “I know Bethany, and I’d be happy to ask her,” I volunteered. “I’ll be in town anyway.”

  Daniel nodded his assent before asking, “What else did you learn besides his being a teacher?”

  “Um … Let’s see. What else?” Jimmy tapped his chin. “He was interested in significant shipwrecks on Cape Cod Bay. Edgar told him about the famous ones—you know, the Sparrow-Hawk and the SS Merrimack?”

  “He asked if there was any with local lore attached. The only one I could come up with off the top my head was the Whydah Galley and “Black Sam” Bellamy.”

  Sam Bellamy was an English pirate known as the Robin Hood of the Sea. In 1717, he and his crew captured the Whydah, which was carrying over four tons of silver, but the great treasure was lost at sea off the coast of Cape Cod during one of the most violent storms ever recorded in New England history. The recent discovery of the pirate’s remains had been a hot news topic the past few years.

  “What about Barnacle Boy?” Laura asked, having just caught the tail end of our conversation after returning from walking Whistler. “That’s a local legend he might find to be of interest.”

  “Are you kidding? Edgar talked his ear off about Barnacle Boy.”

  “It was Christopher who asked,” Edgar said a tad defensively. “Still, we don’t know how the young lad came to be washed up on the Whale Rock shores. It may not have been from a shipwreck at all.”

  That was true—there had been many theories about Barnacle Boy, ranging from accidental drowning to shipwreck victim, to body dumped at sea to hide evidence of other crimes, but none had even a trace of evidence to verify. Edgar had his work cut out for him if he hoped to piece together the mystery. At least, because his was a work of fiction only inspired by a true story, he could choose which theory to follow.