Storm of Secrets

by Loretta Marion

  “Jason spoke with another straggler from the party house last night. This new guy claims he saw Savage having an altercation with Lee Chambers. Savage kept stabbing Chambers in the chest with his finger and said something to the effect of ‘Leave it alone’ or ‘Leave him alone.’”

  If this was true, it meant Christopher had lied to the police about not knowing Lee Chambers.

  “Okay, what’s the worse news?” I splashed water on my face.

  The shower stream stopped, and Daniel pulled a towel off the shower door.

  “When the workers showed up to begin repairs on the cottage Savage is renting, they found what appears to be the mate to the shoe the divers found.”

  A queasiness came over me with this revelation. “Are they sure it’s a match?”

  “Brooks is heading down to pick it up now.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked to the closet. “There might be an easy explanation to that, but Brooks wants me to talk with Savage while he checks out the cottage.”

  “Wouldn’t they need a warrant?”

  Daniel held up his hands. “I didn’t ask.”

  “So what’s the worst news for Christopher?”

  “Jason has uncovered the existence of some sealed records from an incident early in Savage’s career.”

  “What kind of incident?”

  “Nobody he currently works with knows anything about it.” Daniel emerged from the closet in polo shirt and khakis. “Brooks wants me to see if my contacts at the Bureau can get a look at them”—he made finger quotation marks—“unofficially.”

  * * *

  Moments later, Daniel was scarfing down a slice of toast and filling a travel mug with coffee while I was reading a note from Laura.

  “Laura’s already gone for the day, and Jason spent the night at the station.”

  “It’s nice to have the place to ourselves.” Daniel grabbed me and nuzzled my neck. “Too bad we can’t take advantage.”

  I couldn’t help giggling, which was also a nice change of pace. But our brief moment of fun was interrupted when Whistler issued a growling alert a moment before there was a knock on the door.

  “Could I hitch a ride to town sometime today?” Christopher asked me before noticing Daniel in the kitchen.

  “I was just coming over to see you,” Daniel said, wiping his hands with a kitchen tea towel. “But we can do it here.”

  “Do what?” Christopher had a wary look.

  “Some information has come to light that you might be able to help us with.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, but he didn’t look all that eager.

  “I’ll just go take care of some paperwork,” I said as the two men pulled out chairs across from each other at the large oak table.

  “Don’t leave on my account.” Christopher’s pleading look said ”Stay.”

  Daniel merely shrugged, which I took as an invitation.

  I filled a mug with coffee for Christopher, pushing the cream and sugar closer.

  “Thanks. What can I help with?” he asked, stirring cream into his coffee.

  Daniel placed Lee Chambers’s photo on the table.

  Christopher frowned at it. “I’ve been shown this photo before.”

  “That’s right. And you told Chief Kincaid you didn’t know this person?”

  “Correct.” He peered intently at Daniel over the top of his mug as he took a gulp of coffee.

  “I just wanted you to look at it again and be certain.”

  “I’m certain.” He pushed the photograph back across the table with a conviction matching his tone of voice.

  “Well,” Daniel scratched his head, “there’s a witness who’s come forward and stated they saw you and this man having an altercation.”

  “Then that witness would be mistaken. I’ve never met, seen, or heard of this man until the other day when I was first shown his picture.” Christopher’s patience was being tested, which may have been what Daniel intended.

  “Okay.” Daniel raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I appreciate your patience with us as we try to sift the facts from the fiction. Could be mistaken identity.”

  It was fascinating to observe Daniel question someone. It was a poker game, all hedging and bluffing.

  “The second problem we’ve run into has to do with the cottage you’re renting. The workers showed up today to begin repairs and found something concerning.”

  Daniel opened a photo on his phone and passed it across the table.

  Christopher squinted. “A shoe?”

  “A child’s shoe.”

  “Where was it found?”

  “Under your deck steps. A piece of decking had broken, and when they pried it off to replace it, that’s when they found it.” Daniel took his phone back. “Odd place for it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I suppose.”

  I opened my mouth to ask a question about whether the storm winds could have blown the shoe under the steps, but caught myself. It wouldn’t be wise to interrupt.

  “Any idea whose it is?” Daniel asked.

  “Can I see it again?” Daniel pulled up the photo once more.

  Christopher enlarged the image to study it closely before saying, “I can’t be certain, but it might belong to one of the Kleister boys.”

  There was a subtle twitch to Daniel’s jaw that had me wondering if he was surprised by such a forthright response.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Remember when I told you the other day that Nicholas brought Lucas to the cottage once, and I wheeled the two of them back to their place on the beach cart? What I didn’t mention was that Lucas cut his foot that day. That’s why I used the cart. The boys were climbing on the rocks barefoot, but Lucas slipped and cut his heel on the sharp edge of a broken shell.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if trying to bring the scene to memory. “I grabbed a towel from the line to clean it, then bandaged it up. I thought we’d gathered all their things, but now I can’t recall.”

  Daniel was silent. I couldn’t tell whether he believed the story or not.

  “You can ask Nicholas,” Christopher said defensively. “He’ll tell you what happened.”

  “For one thing, Nicholas is now with his grandparents.”

  I held my breath waiting for Christopher’s reaction.

  “Where?” he asked, and I relaxed, knowing he wouldn’t betray my confidence.

  “I’m not at liberty to say. Besides, he isn’t talking to anyone.”

  “He’ll talk to me,” he persisted.

  “Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen.” Daniel placed the photo of Lee Chambers back into the file. “Work on your rental will be delayed.”

  The man seemed to deflate with this unwelcomed news. He was likely eager to return to his solitude.

  “Why?” he finally asked.

  “The police are there now, and depending on what they find, it may be declared a crime scene.” Daniel said this matter-of-factly, but Christopher’s head whipped around.

  “Are you accusing me of something?” He was angry now.

  “Just asking some questions,” Daniel told him.

  “Well, I have a question for you. Do I need an attorney?”

  “Entirely up to you. If you think you need representation, then by all means, hire one.”

  “I don’t need representation because I am not guilty—of anything. But if someone is framing me, which I’m getting a sick feeling is the case, then I don’t know how to defend myself.”

  Daniel wrote down the name of a lawyer friend of ours and passed it across the table. “She’s excellent.”

  “Can I go now?” Christopher picked up the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He looked so miserable, my heart wrenched for the guy.

  “Sure. Just don’t leave town.”

  After he left, I asked Daniel, “Do you really think he’s involved?”

  “I’d have a better idea if we could unseal the documents about that past incident. It would open a cl
earer window to the guy’s history.” He took in a deep breath. “And we really need to speak with Nicholas.”

  “You didn’t bring up the sealed records.”

  “Too soon. We need to see if we can get our hands on them before we show those cards.”

  I drummed the table with my fingers.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Christopher Savage is either telling the truth, or he’s a very skilled liar and a cool cat when cornered.”

  “I’ve observed both.” Daniel gathered his papers and his phone, not giving a hint of which extreme he felt better suited the man.

  To use an old sailing expression, I’d cut the guy some slack and see how he handled the sail. Christopher was guarded—no question. But was he evil?

  * * *

  After helping to pack up boxes of provisions at the church, I stacked as many as would fit in the bed of the truck and drove them over to Wellfleet. I found Laura chatting with folks temporarily sheltering in the Catholic Church, and playing with the children. She was a natural with kids; I could tell she was going to be a great mom.

  When she saw me, Laura waved and came over to help me unload.

  “These are going to be a big help,” she shouted, in order to be heard over the chain saws attacking a fallen tree.

  “No heavy lifting for you. Just the lighter bags.” I pointed to the cab of the truck.

  “I’m pregnant, not sick,” she complained, lowering her voice.

  “I was thinking about your foot,” I said as we carried the first load into the church.

  She frowned down at her boot.

  “Is Jason over the moon at the news?”

  “I have not had a moment alone with him. He’s beat from around-the-clock shifts.” She made a pouty face. “I want it to be special.”

  I glanced across the large church social hall and noticed a dowdy-looking woman who seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place how I knew her.

  A pleasant, fresh-faced man sporting a priest’s collar approached us. “Let me help you with these.”

  “Father Sebastian, this is my friend Cassandra Mitchell. She’s delivered a truckload from the Whale Rock Congregational Church.”

  “A much-needed blessing. We are praying everyone will be able to return to their homes soon.” He followed us out to the truck and hefted a large box. “Mitchell, you said? Like the Mitchell Whale Watcher Boat Tours?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Johnny Hotchkiss is one of our most devoted parishioners.”

  I wondered how Johnny found time to squeeze in an hour for Mass anytime during the season.

  “I hear he’s been ferrying the stranded out of town.”

  “A godsend. Truly.”

  It took several more trips to finish unloading. Back in the social hall, I searched for the woman who had stuck out to me, but she was no longer there.

  18

  Cassandra

  On my way back to The Bluffs to collect more supplies for the shelter, I was detoured past The Lookout, where I noticed Helene Kleister chasing after one of the twins. I quickly pulled to a stop and hopped out in time to grab the little tyke before he ran straight into oncoming traffic.

  “You’re a speedy little guy,” I said as he squealed to be released.

  “Mason, you are going to be the end of me.” The harried mother took the squirming toddler from my grasp. After catching her breath and taking in the scene, she looked at me and said, “Lucky you caught him. Thanks.”

  “Traffic is moving slowly because of the detour,” I said to ease her distress. “Having two under two can’t be easy.”

  “Oh God! Aiden.” She ran as fast as she could while holding a wiggling child, and I followed her around to the beach side of the house.

  Fortunately, the other twin was amusing himself on the deck with a smartphone. Unfortunately, I also spotted a pair of sharp scissors lying on the deck not far from where he was playing, so I picked them up to place them out of reach while casually asking, “Where’s Matthew?”

  “Out with the search teams.” She combed fingers through her short dark hair and kept her focus on the twins, who were now fighting over the phone.

  “I’ve got a few minutes. Let me help you put some of this away,” I offered and gently removed the object of dispute from the twins’ grasps and handed it to Helene.

  “I can manage,” she said, though not defensively and certainly not convincingly. Nor did she stop me as I began to gather up the remnants of their lunch.

  “Of course you can,” I said before going inside to tidy up a bit. Evelyn was right. The house was a disaster waiting to happen. The first hazard I noticed was a bottle of pills, unlabeled—not even a child-resistant cap. I didn’t hesitate to move it to a safer location, but not before opening it, tapping one out, and tucking it into my pocket. I looked out to the deck to ensure Helene was occupied with the twins before slipping into the master bedroom.

  I checked both night table drawers and found another similar bottle hidden in the back behind some books. Using a tissue, I pried off the cap to find it contained the same type of pill. I rushed back out to the kitchen for a plastic zipper bag to preserve any fingerprints with the thought of tying the pill bottle to whoever was on the supply end of these drugs. I then tucked the bag containing the pill bottle into the waistband of my shorts.

  I spent the next few minutes loading the dishwasher and cleaning off all the kitchen counters. A peek into the refrigerator assured me that they at least had adequate food for the next few days, though I wondered how the parents of a missing child could manage to keep anything down. I was just about to sneak into the boys’ bedrooms for a look when Helene brought the twins in from the deck.

  “I’m going to try to coax them down for a nap,” she told me over their shrieks of protest. After taking in the now sparkling kitchen, she offered a defeated shrug. “Thank you.”

  I wrote down my cell phone number on a whiteboard next to the pantry. “Call if you need anything.”

  She nodded and then pulled the two resisting bundles of energy down the hallway.

  * * *

  For the second time in as many days, I was surprised to see Daniel walk into our kitchen in the middle of the day.

  “If you’re hungry, all I can offer is an encore to yesterday’s lunch.” I hadn’t yet made it to the grocery store and wasn’t ready to face Stella Kruk again. With all that was going on in Whale Rock these days, she’d be salivating for details about everything from poor little Lucas to the mysterious dead man, to my postponed wedding. On the other hand, maybe Lee Chambers had stopped by her store. Hmm … perhaps a visit to All the Basics was in order after all.

  “I’m hungry all right.” He sent me a randy smile, then checked the captain’s wheel clock. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much time.”

  “This will have to do”—I set out all the fixings and pecked him on the cheek—“for now.”

  He pulled me into a hug but quickly pushed me away and felt along my waist and pulled out the bagged pill bottle. “What the heck is this?”

  “I borrowed them from Helene Kleister.” I then proceeded to tell him about what happened just an hour earlier.

  “You use the term borrowed quite liberally.” I couldn’t tell if he was dismayed or proud of me.

  “I don’t think she’ll miss them yet. She has a large supply.” I dug out the single orange pill I’d tucked into my pocket and handed it to him. “Look familiar?”

  “Might be Adderall.” He pulled out a pair of reading glasses to inspect more closely. “See the ‘AD’ printed on the side? Big abuse problem with these.”

  “Do you want to give them to Brooks?” I held up the bag. “Or should I?”

  “I’ll be seeing him later.” He took it and held it up to the light. “If we’re lucky, there will be prints other than Helene’s on the bottle.”

  At least I’d be off the hook to explain to Brooks how I managed to take them.

>   Daniel gazed out the window at the carriage house. “Where’s Savage?”

  “I haven’t seen him since this morning. Maybe he’s meeting with his new attorney.”

  The sarcastic edge to my tone prompted Daniel to ask, “You feel confident he’s not involved?”

  “I just don’t get the sense that he’s an evil human being. He’s quiet, but he seems relatively normal.”

  “Ted Bundy syndrome,” he mumbled, taking a plate down from the cupboard.

  “What about Ted Bundy?”

  “He was a nice-looking and charming guy, seemed perfectly normal. Nobody would have guessed that he was capable of bludgeoning someone to death with a baseball bat.” Daniel shook his head as he slathered bread slices with peanut butter and beach plum jelly. “That name you found?” he said between bites. “The guy who went sailing with Savage last week?”

  “Tyler Stendall. You’ve tracked him down?”

  “No, he’s not answering his phone. But we were able to speak with his parents. Mother, that is, and stepfather. I get the impression they’re somewhat estranged from their son.”

  “How old is this Tyler?” I unscrewed the peanut butter jar lid and scooped out a gob with my finger.

  “Just turned twenty-eight.” Daniel made a face. “Hey, we do share that jar.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled through the thick paste. “So, the parents weren’t all that helpful?”

  “Only in the sense that they generated more questions. The mother did say that Stendall loved the Cape. Apparently, she and his father brought him out here when he was a boy.”

  “Where’s his father now?”

  “He died in Afghanistan.” Daniel pulled a carton of milk from the refrigerator and gave it a sniff. Deeming it fresh enough, he poured himself a glass to wash down the PBJ. “Stendall has no record of a criminal past, no arrests. His mother said that he wasn’t a bad kid, just not terribly motivated. He dropped out of college and has remained aimless ever since.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He was tending bar somewhere in Rhode Island last they heard. That was a year ago.”

  “Where do the mother and stepfather live?” I let Whistler lick the remnants of peanut butter from my finger.