Within Plain Sight

by Bruce Robert Coffin

  “Mind if I ask why?”

  “Not at all. We caught him stealing. I believe he may have had a drug habit.”

  Byron nodded and made an entry in his notepad. “And Faherty?”

  “Dani is our maître d’. Works evenings.”

  “Can you tell me when she worked last, Mr. Stavros?”

  “Call me Petri, please. Sure, Dani last worked Saturday night. She was scheduled to work Sunday night, too, but she didn’t show.”

  “That unusual?”

  “Very. She’s one of my most dependable employees. Why are you asking about her?”

  “Have you spoken with her since Saturday?” Byron said.

  Before Petri could answer, a man wearing chef’s garb walked into the office.

  “Petri, I thought I told you to order—oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were meeting with anyone.”

  “Not a problem,” Petri said. “Detective Sergeant Byron, this is my brother Alex.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Sergeant Byron. Detective, huh? What’s up?”

  “Sergeant Byron was just asking some questions about Morgan Bates,” Petri said.

  Alex’s face twisted up in disgust. “I suppose Petri told you that Morgan was stealing from us.”

  “He did,” Byron said. “I was also asking about the last time either of you spoke to Danica Faherty.”

  Petri and Alex exchanged a glance that Byron couldn’t quite interpret.

  Petri spoke up first. “As I told you, Dani didn’t show up for her Sunday night shift.”

  “So, the last time you spoke with her was when?” Byron asked.

  “Early Sunday morning. We walked out together after closing up.”

  “And you?” Byron asked, addressing Alex. “When did you last see or speak to Ms. Faherty?”

  “Not since Friday. I was out of town attending a conference over the weekend.”

  Byron returned his attention to Petri. “Did you try to call her when she didn’t show Sunday night?”

  “I did. I left several messages on her cellphone, but she never returned my calls. She’s due to work tonight. Would you like me to have her contact you when she gets in?”

  “We recovered Danica Faherty’s body this morning,” Byron said matter-of-factly, looking for a reaction from either brother.

  “Her body?” Alex looked genuinely surprised. “Then she’s . . .”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Jesus,” Petri said. “What happened?”

  “We’re still investigating that,” Byron said. “We believe she was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Petri said.

  “We believe so.”

  “Where did you find her—her body?” Alex asked.

  “Not too far from here.”

  “I can’t believe someone would kill Dani,” Petri said.

  Byron watched as both Stavros brothers stared into the distance as if dazed.

  “Petri, you worked with Dani Saturday night, do you remember anything usual happening that evening?” Byron asked.

  “Actually, yes,” Petri said. “Something did happen. I wouldn’t exactly call it unusual, but we did have to call the police.”

  “What happened?” Byron asked.

  “Gene Wagner, one of our regular customers, he kind of has a thing for Dani. He comes in all the time throwing money around. He’s really harmless, but sometimes he drinks too much.”

  “Is that what happened Saturday night?” Byron asked.

  Petri looked to Alex as if for approval. Alex nodded.

  “Yes,” Petri said. “Gene came in around nine o’clock and sat in the bar lounge. He chatted up Dani every time she passed by. Around ten-thirty he began to get grabby.”

  “Grabby?” Byron asked.

  “I guess he put his hands on her.”

  “Did you confront him?”

  “I started to, but I didn’t get the chance. Lina—that’s Mom’s nickname, was already headed over. Lina told him to leave.”

  “And did he?” Byron asked.

  “Not immediately, no. I took it upon myself to call the police, but Gene left before the officers got here.”

  “It really wasn’t necessary to involve the police,” Alex said. “Gene is an old friend of the family, Sergeant Byron.”

  Petri shrugged. “Well, it was my call. I thought it was necessary.”

  “Has Wagner been in since?” Byron asked.

  “No,” Petri said. “He didn’t come in Sunday night, and we’re closed on Mondays.”

  “What about last night?”

  “He wasn’t in last night either. You don’t think Gene had anything to do with Dani’s murder, do you?”

  “We’ll be looking at everyone,” Byron said as he made a note to pass on Wagner’s name to Tran. “So, Lina is the only one who confronted Gene Wagner?”

  “That’s right,” Petri said.

  Byron looked to both men. “I don’t suppose Lina is here now?”

  Alex shook his head. “No, she’s at home in Scarborough with my children. Would you like me to get her on the phone?”

  “I’d rather speak with her in person.”

  Chapter 9

  Wednesday, 5:45 p.m.,

  July 12, 2017

  Byron departed Alessandro’s en route to the nearby town of Scarborough. The address Alex and Petri had provided for their mother was located southwest of Portland in the affluent Greater Portland community of Prouts Neck. Connected to the mainland by a narrow stretch of land and bordered on both sides by sandy beaches, the Neck was a large, heavily forested, rocky promontory jutting out into the Atlantic, facing Saco Bay. It was a locale perfectly suited to someone of Angelina’s stature.

  The GPS on Byron’s cellphone led him along Black Point Road, past the Prouts Neck Country Club, and onto Winslow Homer Road, where the celebrated artist’s studio still stands alongside the rugged Maine coastline that made him famous.

  Byron slowed as he neared the address then turned left onto an unmarked paved way. Fifty feet in from the roadway two large fieldstone pillars stood sentry on either side of the drive. Spanning the distance between them was a formidable-looking wrought iron gate replete with piked finials and a large decorative letter S that had been incorporated into the ironwork at the gate’s center. A stainless-steel pole-mounted electronic keypad stood to the left of the drive. Byron pulled up alongside it, lowered his window, and pressed the call button. His eyes were drawn to the security cameras mounted atop each of the pillars.

  A woman’s voice emanated clearly from the speaker. “May I help you?”

  “My name is John Byron. I’m a detective sergeant from the Portland Police Department here to see Angelina Stavros.”

  “Oh yes, Sergeant. Petri called to say you’d be stopping by. Please, drive right in.”

  Byron heard a loud electronic buzz, then watched as the iron gate parted in the center, splitting the S as each side rolled away behind the pillars.

  He drove on.

  Several hundred feet past the gate the driveway turned sharply to the left before re-emerging from the heavily wooded area into a large sunlit clearing. A vast and well-maintained emerald-green lawn sloped upward toward the main house, which sat prominently atop a knoll facing a large pond. As Byron continued up the drive, he could see a woman and small child seated in white Adirondack chairs, facing the pond. A second child, a boy with curly blond hair, was playing at the water’s edge, although his idea of playing seemed to include throwing things toward a flock of ducks.

  Byron pulled the unmarked into the broad cobblestone turnaround and parked. As he exited the car, he caught sight of a large man approaching on foot from behind a shingled outbuilding. Byron waved but the man neither returned the greeting nor broke stride as he quickly closed the distance.

  “Help you with something?” the man growled from beneath his bushy black mustache.

  Byron’s eyes were drawn to a long angry looking scar on the side of the man’s neck, poking up from the collar of
his T-shirt. “I’m here to—”

  “It’s okay, Dennis,” Angelina Stavros said from behind Byron. “He’s a police detective.”

  Byron turned as Stavros approached, both children at her heels.

  “Good afternoon, Sergeant Byron,” she said.

  “Mrs. Stavros.”

  “Lina, please.”

  Byron turned back toward Dennis, but the burly man was already retracing his steps, quickly returning the way he’d come.

  Byron and Lina met at the center of the drive and shook hands.

  Dressed in white capris, a navy top, and a straw sun hat, Lina was every bit as glamorous in person as she had appeared on the walls of Petri’s office.

  “I am sorry about that,” she said. “Dennis is my late husband’s brother. He wasn’t expecting company. I think you surprised him.”

  “Is he always so guarded?” Byron asked.

  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sergeant,” she said, ignoring his question. “These are my grandbabies, Kaia and Leander,” Lina said, her face beaming with pride. “Say hello to the sergeant, children.”

  The dark-haired Kaia gave Byron a sheepish grin before retreating behind her grandmother’s legs.

  “Hello, Sergeant!” Leander screeched in falsetto before sprinting back toward the pond, where Byron imagined the duck tormenting would resume.

  “Come,” Lina said. “Let’s get out of the sun.”

  She led Byron to a granite patio situated beneath a vine-covered cedar pergola. They sat in white rattan chairs, facing the pond and the ocean beyond. The granddaughter stood pressed against Lina like epoxy.

  As soon as they were seated a young woman with a distinctly British accent materialized from the direction of the main house. “Yes, Mrs. Stavros,” she said.

  “Dorothy, would you please look after the children for me. Sergeant Byron and I need to speak privately.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dorothy said as she clasped one of Kaia’s hands in her own.

  “Kaia, why don’t you run along now with Dorothy,” Lina said.

  “Hello Sergeant!” Kaia yelled as she ran off to join her brother, with Dorothy doing her best to keep up.

  “Adorable, aren’t they?” Lina said as she gazed longingly after the children.

  It wasn’t the first word that came to Byron’s mind as he watched Leander the Adorable hurl another rock toward the unsuspecting fowl. Thing One and Thing Two seemed a better fit.

  “Dorothy is?” Byron asked.

  “My au pair. She’s from London. While I do love my grandbabies, I don’t know how I would manage without Dorothy’s help. Would you care for some iced tea? Or lemonade? I’ll have my assistant bring some.”

  “No thanks,” Byron said, making a note to hire an assistant.

  “So, Alex informs me that you’re investigating the murder of one of our employees.”

  “That’s right. Danica Faherty.”

  “So tragic. I heard something on the news about a body being recovered. I had no idea it was our Danica. Such a sweet girl.”

  “I wanted to ask you about Saturday night,” Byron said. “I understand there was a problem with one of the customers at Alessandro’s.”

  “Yes. Most unfortunate. Gene Wagner. He’s a regular. Has a bit of a drinking problem, I’m afraid.”

  “And an infatuation with Faherty,” Byron said.

  Lina sighed. “Yes, it’s true. He was quite taken with Danica, a lovely girl. He really is harmless, though. Lonely, I think. I had the situation well in hand, but my son Petri overreacted, as he’s prone to, and phoned the police. I dealt with Gene directly after he refused to leave voluntarily.”

  “What led up to that?” Byron asked. “Specifically.”

  “As I said, he drinks a bit too much. Evidently, he may have inadvertently put his hand on Danica, and she took exception.”

  Byron couldn’t help noticing the way she both minimized the accusation and redirected blame. “In what way did he put his hand on her?”

  “I don’t know exactly. I didn’t witness it. I was told that’s what happened. Danica was quite upset about it.”

  “Was this the first time?” Byron asked.

  Lina cocked her head slightly. “First time?”

  “Yes. Was this the first time Gene assaulted Danica or any of your other employees?”

  Her eyes narrowed, forming tiny lines on either side of her face, as she struggled to maintain her composure. It was enough of a tell that Byron knew she’d taken offense to his question. Before she could answer, Byron heard a vehicle approaching. He turned to see a white BMW X5 rolling up the drive.

  “Mom!” both children screeched at the top of their lungs. The SUV came to a stop nearby and the Adorables sprinted toward it, leaving Dorothy the au pair in the dust.

  “My daughter-in-law, Deborah,” Lina said, her pleasant demeanor returning, answering the question before Byron could ask. “She’s an attorney.”

  Byron rose as a tall blonde woman wearing sunglasses walked toward them, the children swarming around her legs, vying for her attention.

  “Sergeant Byron,” Lina said. “This is my daughter-in-law, Deborah.”

  “Byron?” Deborah said, removing her glasses. “Oh, my God, John Byron. It’s Debbie Strickland. Well, Strickland-Stavros now,” she corrected, flashing a rather large diamond solitaire ring.

  “You two know each other?” Lina said, sounding perplexed.

  “John and I went to Saint Joseph’s together, before I changed universities and moved out of state.”

  “Great to see you, Deb,” Byron said as he extended a hand.

  “A handshake?” Deborah said. “Not on your life. You don’t get out of it that easily.” She moved in and hugged him. “John and I dated while we were at St. Joe’s.”

  “Is that so?” Lina said, sounding amused. “This is a small world.”

  “Do you all live here?” Byron asked.

  “My son Alex and his family are staying with me until their new home is ready,” Lina said.

  “Well, if we decide to stay,” Deborah corrected.

  “Not exactly roughing it,” Byron said.

  “Not exactly,” Deborah said, giving him a sly smile.

  “I’m afraid Sergeant Byron came with some tragic news about one of the restaurant employees,” Lina said.

  “Oh?” Deborah said with a look of concern on her face.

  “Yes,” Byron said. “Danica Faherty was found murdered. Did you know Ms. Faherty?”

  “I don’t think so,” Deborah said.

  “She was one of our hostesses,” Lina added. “Deborah is a corporate attorney, Sergeant Byron. And about the only one in the family not involved in the restaurant business.”

  “And not affiliated with Hollywood either,” Deborah said with a wink.

  “Mom, can we go out back and play with Uncle Dennis?” the tow-headed Thing One asked.

  “Why don’t you go inside with Dorothy and get washed up for dinner,” Deborah said, drawing groans of disapproval from both children. “It’s so great to see you, John. We should catch up while I’m in town.”

  “I’d like that,” Byron said.

  Deborah handed him a business card after scribbling her number on the back. “That’s my personal cell. Call me.”

  “I will,” Byron said, looking on as she herded her brood toward the mansion.

  “My apologies for the interruption,” Lina said as she and Byron resumed their seats in the shade of the pergola. “Where were we?”

  “I asked you if this was the first time Wagner had assaulted Danica, or any other member of your staff?” Byron watched as her expression changed again from doting grandmother to protective matriarch.

  “Gene Wagner is a well-to-do businessman, close friend, and frequent customer in my restaurant. He has even produced several of my films.”

  “He financed them?”

  “Yes. Now to your question. Gene’s attraction to Danica was well-known b
y the staff. To my knowledge, this was the first time Danica ever took offense to his advances. Truthfully, she was a bit of a flirt. That probably sounds horrible of me, given the circumstances of your visit, but I think she rather enjoyed the attention.”

  “Until Saturday night,” Byron said, continuing to hold eye contact with her, letting the awkwardness of the moment hang between them.

  “It’s all in the past now, Sergeant.”

  “Just the same, I will need to speak with Gene Wagner.”

  “Is that absolutely necessary?”

  “Mrs. Stavros,” Byron said, intentionally reverting to the formal use of her surname. “I am investigating a murder, and as such I will be speaking with everyone who may have had contact with Danica Faherty prior to her death.”

  Lina studied him before speaking again. “Surely you don’t believe Gene had anything to do with Danica’s death.”

  “I don’t make it my practice to rule out anyone until the facts say otherwise. At this point everyone is a suspect.”

  Byron was turning onto Winslow Homer Road from Angelina Stavros’s driveway when his cell rang with an incoming call from Stevens. He answered it.

  “Got some interesting news on our security guard,” Stevens said.

  “Hopkins?”

  “Yup. Looks like he lied about when he was last in the lumberyard.”

  “How do we know that?” Byron said. “I thought there weren’t any surveillance cameras.”

  “There aren’t. But I just spoke with David Merrill, the manager of Secure Incorporated. Merrill told me that the company’s been getting killed on their insurance premiums. S.I. installed tracking devices in the trunks of each patrol vehicle as a big brotherly way of controlling costs.”

  “And?”

  “And, according to the tracking data, the vehicle assigned to Craig Hopkins was inside Forest City Lumber’s fenced-in lot early Tuesday morning.”

  “This past Tuesday?”

  “Yup. For nearly an hour. I’ve got a printout of the log and a screen shot from Merrill’s computer.”

  “And you’re positive it was inside the enclosure?” Byron asked, wondering if he dared allow himself the glimmer of hope that the case might be narrowing in scope.